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She goes over and speaks to him, to get his name and number. She leans over and kisses him. His expression says he’s in heaven. She reaches into his...crotch to play with his dick. He stiffens, and goes limp. As she returns he stands up and staggers away, with a big damp stain in the front of his pants. She hands me a piece of paper, saying, “He’s nice, but not really my type. Here’s his details if we need a sign writer.” Our Sarai is blossoming, and I’m wondering where it’ll end. But I can’t. ‘Sounds like more fun than writing software. I’m staying about 10 miles back towards the bridge at what seems like the only hotel left on the island. Me and about 10 other guests.’ She lay on her side facing me, a hand rested on her mound, a finger lightly rubbed her labia and her clit. I watched for a few moments, not saying anything, just watching how casually she played with herself in front of what was a total stranger. I was fascinated how relaxed she seemed to be doing that. It was not. If anything, it was raining harder. Samantha got out and let Tara drive. Tara was a year older than Sam, but both had only been driving for two years. Again, the car would move, but not get out of the ditch. By now, the girls were scared, cold, muddy and very wet. They had not seen anyone on this road for hours. Tara had seen a house off the road just on top of that last hill. Maybe they had a phone, or maybe the cell phone would work up there. Both girls took off running in the pouring rain. “No, no,” I tried to correct him immediately. “It’s not like that at all! You see, I’m here for y—” he cut off my sentence midway by holding his hand flat up.“If it’s not like that, have a drink first. Show some commitment, then you can start your sales pitch,” he eyed me briefly before continuing. “That’s assuming you are even old enough to drink.”It was around then that reality came back to hit me hard. I should have waited to meet him at his apartment. Things would have been so much easier.
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