I’ve been thinking of you all day and I do not want to make love to you. Nor do I want you to make love to me. I want us to make sweet love to each ...ther…together. Let’s make slow, soft, sweet love. I am imagining you lying beside me in the bunk made for one. Being crowded in the bunk just adds to the building passion of the night. The truck motor is idling and that creates a throbbing sensation that carries through to our bodies. The radio is playing some love songs. The night is ours to. She thinks she is better than everyone else. That is her Achilles heel.”“And,” I asked.“You are good, yes there is an and,” he smiled, “And dominant at work but secretly very sub in the bedroom. After her current mistress made the emerald into a butt plug, she needed a hiding place and the Diana emerald is currently in the young lady’s bum.”“So you can just arrest her, bend her over and get the emerald back.”“We can indeed, that is plan B.”“So what is plan A?”“She is at the Savoy tonight. And. I think their names were Trixie and Candy or something close to that. Trixie was the smart one and she spent most of the trip reading the frigging Wall Street Journal like she understood every confusing word. Candy was playing with Lenny’s oversexed male equipment like it was the only available toy in the playground and it diverted her from having to think. I averted my eyes from the panting couple and tried to figure out the Trixie dame because she was not your run of the mill showgirl with a. Shoot me any ideas or directions you might have. They have certainly helped in the past and I welcome the interaction.Full disclosure; I am considering moving some of my writing to other online platforms. All open-access and free-to-read, of course. The stories published here will be my unwitting test material as I check out different sites by posting them there. Otherwise, have fun. I'll drop writers notes in the comments section as always so look out for those and happy reading!~.