Rose looks almost apologetic, and mumbles, "Sorry."

"This is what you get for that," I say, and a second finger sinks inside her.

"Oh shit," she blurts into my throat, "just like that."

I hold her against me and feel her writhe as her quivering pussy grips my fingers.

She grabs fistfuls of my shirt and buries her face in my shoulder. She's so hot, her skin like flame, her pussy a furnace. My hand is covered in her slick juices, and I feel like she's going to break my wrist when she jerks and her legs snap together around my hand.

I turn her around so I can grind my cock in her ass while I finger-bang her. She gives me a wicked look over her shoulder, shifts, and grinds her butt against me while I slip my other hand up and cup her breast, squeeze as she pitches forward, curling up around my hand, her legs shaking, one shoe dangling off her quivering foot.

Her whole body is coiled up like a spring that's about to snap, and then she does, bucking back against me, crying out before she tries to stifle herself, loses it, cries out again. Her pussy is so tight, I just want to rip her clothes off and shove myself inside her right now until I come over and over, grab her hips, and make her take me to the root and empty my balls in her.

Panting, she collapses against me.

I pull my hand loose and press my fingers to her lips. Without hesitation she sucks, and when I feel her hot lips wrapped around my finger and the suction on the tip, I can only think of how I want her to swallow my cock and look up at me with those big blue eyes and adore me while I blow a load down her throat. She licks my whole hand clean, turns around in my lap, and kisses me hard, her lips salty.

Her butt hits the horn and it beeps, and she jerks back, shocked.

"I-I-I-I need to get home," she stammers, shaking.

She slips off me, all the way across the bench. Sweaty and shaking, she stuffs her blouse back down and looks at me, confused and flushed.

"Are you okay?"

She adjusts herself and sits in the seat. "I'm sorry I, uh, bit you."

"Anytime."

I roll back through the drive-through and order three Happy Meals. The big kid will probably want two of them. I request girl toys.

Rose takes the bags, her fingers brushing mine.

"Was this a date?" she says.

"I don't know. Was it?"

"I don't know."

When we pull into the driveway, the kids are at the window, watching us. Being a gentleman, I get out and walk her up to the door.

"Hurry inside."

I manage to resist the urge to smack her ass.

"Uh, see you in the morning," she says weakly. "Ride?"

"Yeah, you can ride me anytime you want."

"I mean I want to ride you to work. A ride to work. You know what I mean."

"Yeah," I sigh.

I plant a kiss right on her lips.

She blinks a few times before she opens the door and walks inside. The kids are still at the window, staring at me like I just stepped out of a flying saucer that landed on their lawn.

It's a little silly to drive back to my house. I should have just parked there and walked her over. I'll do that next time.

Goddamn it, Quent. There can't be a next time. What the fuck are you doing? This is crazy. You're going to get her killed.

I roll into my garage. The garage door rumbles down and I head over to the computer.

Let's see what Burt's been up to. I'm feeling frisky.

Rose To my surprise, Karen claims two of the Happy Meals for herself, or at least the food, devouring the cheeseburgers. Kelly ends up with the toys, and that works for me. They eat in the kitchen and then I bundle them off to bed as quickly as I can, and stumble into the bathroom then tumble into the shower.

I'm still shaking. I can't remember the last time I came that hard... And I bit him. I feel weird just thinking about it, floaty. I try to wash it away with hot water, but I can still feel his fingers inside my eager body. My skin is tight and hot all over, like I'm glowing.

I'm full, too. I feel like I swallowed a cow.

This shower is turning into a bath. I nudge the lever over and lower myself into the steaming water as it rises up around my legs, lean back, and let it fill the tub, the heat drawing into my muscles as the water swirls up around my shoulders. I nudge the faucet closed with my food and lie in it, breathing in the steam.

That was...interesting.

I didn't think I could feel that way about a man anymore. Things were chilly with Russel toward the end, even before I learned about the affair. That time when I was infatuated with him feels like a story someone told me, a happy tale about another person. Not part of my life.

I knew from the start that Quentin was attracted to me. I mean, it was obvious from the way he was looking at me after I got soaked by the damned hose. I'm not stupid. It was only tonight that I started to like it. It's nice to feel admired, and he doesn't send any mixed signals. I can wiggle my butt a little and still feel his cock grinding against me.

When the water goes cold I rise, wincing. I'm too young to be stiff all the time. I'm only thirty-four. I step out and look at myself. My stomach isn't as flat as it was when I was younger, and I'm a little heavier, but it doesn't matter. I feel sexy, and twist my hips and blow a kiss at the mirror.

God, Rose. Stop acting like a teenager with a crush.

Once I've dried off I slip into my bedroom and into bed, pulling the covers up to my neck. God, I'm tired. I have another class tomorrow and I'm really, really looking forward to seeing Burt tomorrow after that little show Quentin put on.

At least sleep comes fast.

Maybe because I've relieved a little, ah, tension.

The alarm clock follows it, bleating at me in an acidic monotone, beep beep beep. I slam the thing with my fist and swing out of bed, lean on the dresser, and sigh. I could sleep for fifty years.

First things first, the kids. Karen practically claws my eyes out when I wake her up, and Kelly stumbles around in a stupor. They were both up too late last night waiting for me to get home. I should put my foot down and insist they get in bed at a proper hour, but I can't make them go to sleep without seeing me.

I hate this. I'd get a babysitter, but I can't afford it. If Russel finds out I'm leaving them alone like this, he might use it against me in court and sue for custody. I can't stop, though. I have to get a better job. I can barely feed them. Karen will be old enough to drive soon, and how will she get a car if I can't pay for it? They don't pay kids enough at part-time jobs to afford a car anymore, and even if they did, she'd need the car first. I'm not putting her on the bus every day.

Then there's college, and four years behind Karen, Kelly will be ready to drive. They'll want things I can't provide. Neither one of them wants to live with their father, and I bless them for that, but they might have to. The thought of giving them up sickens me.

"Mom?" Karen says between bites of eggs. "You okay?"

"Just tired, honey. I have a lot on my mind. Try to actually stay in school all day this time, huh?"

"Yeah, I will." She nods.

After I walk them to the bus stop and get ready, I find Quentin leaning on his car, in his driveway. He beckons me over and I smile as I stride across the grass. He's looking me over and even in these stupid scrubs, it feels good.

"Hey, need a ride?"

"Yeah."

I drop myself into the car and fight off fatigue. I want to nod off even before he starts it up. The sound of the engine startles me awake, and Quentin backs out.

Mrs. Campbell is eyeing us again, from her front porch as she waters her little garden. Her head swivels to watch us roll all the way down the street.

"What's her problem?"

I shrug. "Your car is too old for her."

He snorts. "Whatever happened to taste?"

I sigh.

I'm dreading work like my daughters must be dreading school. I don't want to get out of the car when Quentin stops to let me off.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," I sigh. "Should I take the bus home, or..."

"I'll pick you up."

"I have another class tonight."

"That's fine."

I start to step out of the car then slink back and look at him.

"Um, could you do me a favor?"

He leans back in the seat and smirks at me. I swallow, trying to wet my throat.

"Would you mind staying with the girls? Maybe you can get them to go to bed while I'm gone. They stay up too late when I'm in class."

"I could, I guess." He shrugs.

"I don't want to impose..."

"I can work around it. It's only a few hours. What the hell."

I beam at him. "Thank you so much."

"It's nothing. See you after work."

"Yeah, thanks."

Resigned to my fate, I trudge inside. Laura is already behind the desk, in my spot.

"You're on insurance today," she says, giving me a funny look.

Great. I have to process the insurance claims. I'd rather deal with angry patients with broken teeth and screaming children. Sartre said hell is other people. He was almost right. Hell is other people who work for the insurance company.

I settle into the desk to find that Laura has left me a pile of claims to settle. It's mostly tedious computer work, until the computer inevitably pops up with an exception.

The first claim I enter pops up with an exception. I can't do anything else until it's fixed. So I spend the next hour listening to crackly, barely intelligible hold music that sounds like the distant wailing of the damned.

Oh, joy.

By lunchtime I've cleared half of Laura's backlog from the previous day. By midafternoon I'm partway into my own, fresh backlog.

That's when Burt strolls up to me.

"How's that going, getting it sorted?"

"Yes," I say curtly. "I'm getting it done."

"Good, good. I'm going to need you to stay late until they're all cleared. You can lock up when you leave. Hope that isn't too much trouble."

It would be, if I was taking the bus. I'll have Quentin hang out with me until it's time to leave.

"No trouble," I say wearily.

"Good. Hop to it, then."

He retreats into the back and I hear the hygienist giggling. God, how can they stand to let him touch them?

Sighing, I turn back to my work. Thankfully most of my claims clear faster and it looks like I won't be more than half an hour or so behind. Laura must have been slacking off for days. I can't believe Burt didn't do something about this before.

Wait, yes I can. Laura probably blew her way out of it and into my desk. I watch her in the mirror as she plays with her hair and types one-handed, oblivious to the scowl of the patient at the desk watching her.

Working here is like pulling out my own teeth.

About two in the afternoon, a new patient comes in. I can't help but notice her. The countertop doesn't even reach her chest. She must be six feet tall, but in a statuesque, model-ish way, with a full, voluptuous figure, perfect skin, and thick auburn hair so lush it looks like she's been auditioning for one of those commercials about the orgasm shampoo.

Burt noticed her, too. He greets her in the hallway.

"Hello," he says brightly. "I'm Dr. Simonson. What brings you in today?"

Miss Model smiles warmly. "I'm here for a cleaning. I just moved to town."

"Huh," he says. "Great to see you. We'll be in soon."