1). Lane
Something about putting on those fishnet stockings made me hot, not just regular Saturday night hot, but holy shit, fire rockets from the pits of the earth, smoking hot! A mysterious and enticing invite came from Lane, a man who I met on a dating website. Gosh, every woman deserves a universal hall pass of hotness at least once in her lifetime. It was my lucky chance to turn up the heat in my life and sizzle. It was as if a firecracker of sexy sparks completely engulfed me. Those sparks were the kind of heat-seeking diamonds that deserved a life of their very own. Mom jeans and a vanilla evening out on the town was simply not enough heat to do the trick. Little did I know of the events that would unfold later that evening, as naughty Cupid would soon be winking down on me from the erotic heavens.
Lane and I met each other for the first time at The Cove in Deerfield Beach. It startled me that Lane’s profile pi cture did not do that devilishly handsome man justice. Walking up to him, I was kicking myself and wishing that I had run home after work, slid out of my work rags, slipped into on a slinky top and squeezed my zaftig behind in to a tight pair of jeans.
We settled in after our initial greet ings and ordered two delicious Rum Runners and sized each other up. A short time after clinking glasses and engaging in an intoxicating conversation, I was lost in the precarious grip of lust. Out of nowhere, Lane surprised me and invited me out the very next evening—just as the red curtains on our date were coming to a close. The chemistry between us was undeniable. The instant I said a resounding yes, an overwhelming tingling sensation deliciously flooded over me. Lane casually mentioned that it might be a good idea for me to wear something sexy and preferably black. That was the only tantalizing hint he gave me about our mysterious second date on the nearby horizon.
My sparkling , brand-new, monster-size crush on Lane caused me smolder with heat. His mere presence made me flash back in time, thrusting me back retro style—right smack dab to a few decades past. Suddenly, I was the geeky girl in class once again who was crushing on the cute guy in the front row. Staring at him, I was enveloped with the sensation of butterflies all over, as I imagined that my Coach bag was magically transformed into a metal "Wonder Woman" lunch box and that my flat-ironed hair had been instantly whisked up into sun-kissed pigtails.
Our good bye kiss left me wanting more of him—a lot more! Lane had a few years on me, but I did not care one bit, simply because his dashing good looks by far trumped his age. Lane was boiling over with raw sex appeal and he was just the right dose of holistic medicine that I had been searching for.
Lane's racy invitation came just in the nick of time to save my rusty spirit. Being a corporate beauty rep and lugging around spa items to local salons in the heat of the Sunshine State was slowly taking a toll on me. I felt like I would crack if even one more disgruntled spay-tan queen complained that her “tan in a can” was not dark enough to disguise her lumpy cellulite!
To top it off, my suburban neighborhood in Coconut C reek had become stale and was dripping in vanilla. The edges of my very existence were starting to fray at the seams and turn my insides completely numb. The usual single-gal stomping grounds that I once loved had started to lose their prior luster. I needed to get out of the house and kick up my heels with a real man in a terribly bad way. Or maybe what I needed was a strong man to pin my heels back? Either way, the call of the wild was definitely screaming my name loud enough for every wanton star in the galaxy to hear it!
My explosive passion-filled night with Lane will be forever “triple-x” branded into my brain. That particular evening earned a spot in my “hot damn, what the Hell possessed me, I can't believe I did that,” secret mental diary. Only a chosen few of
Something about putting on those fishnet stockings made me hot, not just regular Saturday night hot, but holy shit, fire rockets from the pits of the earth, smoking hot! A mysterious and enticing invite came from Lane, a man who I met on a dating website. Gosh, every woman deserves a universal hall pass of hotness at least once in her lifetime. It was my lucky chance to turn up the heat in my life and sizzle. It was as if a firecracker of sexy sparks completely engulfed me. Those sparks were the kind of heat-seeking diamonds that deserved a life of their very own. Mom jeans and a vanilla evening out on the town was simply not enough heat to do the trick. Little did I know of the events that would unfold later that evening, as naughty Cupid would soon be winking down on me from the erotic heavens.
Lane and I met each other for the first time at The Cove in Deerfield Beach. It startled me that Lane’s profile pi cture did not do that devilishly handsome man justice. Walking up to him, I was kicking myself and wishing that I had run home after work, slid out of my work rags, slipped into on a slinky top and squeezed my zaftig behind in to a tight pair of jeans.
We settled in after our initial greet ings and ordered two delicious Rum Runners and sized each other up. A short time after clinking glasses and engaging in an intoxicating conversation, I was lost in the precarious grip of lust. Out of nowhere, Lane surprised me and invited me out the very next evening—just as the red curtains on our date were coming to a close. The chemistry between us was undeniable. The instant I said a resounding yes, an overwhelming tingling sensation deliciously flooded over me. Lane casually mentioned that it might be a good idea for me to wear something sexy and preferably black. That was the only tantalizing hint he gave me about our mysterious second date on the nearby horizon.
My sparkling , brand-new, monster-size crush on Lane caused me smolder with heat. His mere presence made me flash back in time, thrusting me back retro style—right smack dab to a few decades past. Suddenly, I was the geeky girl in class once again who was crushing on the cute guy in the front row. Staring at him, I was enveloped with the sensation of butterflies all over, as I imagined that my Coach bag was magically transformed into a metal "Wonder Woman" lunch box and that my flat-ironed hair had been instantly whisked up into sun-kissed pigtails.
Our good bye kiss left me wanting more of him—a lot more! Lane had a few years on me, but I did not care one bit, simply because his dashing good looks by far trumped his age. Lane was boiling over with raw sex appeal and he was just the right dose of holistic medicine that I had been searching for.
Lane's racy invitation came just in the nick of time to save my rusty spirit. Being a corporate beauty rep and lugging around spa items to local salons in the heat of the Sunshine State was slowly taking a toll on me. I felt like I would crack if even one more disgruntled spay-tan queen complained that her “tan in a can” was not dark enough to disguise her lumpy cellulite!
To top it off, my suburban neighborhood in Coconut C reek had become stale and was dripping in vanilla. The edges of my very existence were starting to fray at the seams and turn my insides completely numb. The usual single-gal stomping grounds that I once loved had started to lose their prior luster. I needed to get out of the house and kick up my heels with a real man in a terribly bad way. Or maybe what I needed was a strong man to pin my heels back? Either way, the call of the wild was definitely screaming my name loud enough for every wanton star in the galaxy to hear it!
My explosive passion-filled night with Lane will be forever “triple-x” branded into my brain. That particular evening earned a spot in my “hot damn, what the Hell possessed me, I can't believe I did that,” secret mental diary. Only a chosen few of
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