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slipped from the truck just after sunrise and made their way quietly to the deserted rest stop toilets. When she came out, he was waiting for her. He pulled her behind the alcove where the vending machines stood, kissing her until her insides buzzed with sleepy arousal. ‘I woke up thinking about your silky smooth pussy, English, and now my cock’s so stiff I can hardly walk. You’ll take care of it for me, won’t you?’ Then he turned her to the wall and lifted her damp skirt. As she bent over, she could hear him donning a condom. He fingered her pussy lips open and let out a low whistle. ‘As slick as you are I’d say you weren’t exactly thinking about England.’
    With a quick upward thrust, he penetrated her, grunting his pleasure as he did so, reaching around her to stroke her clit with one hand, while the other sought out her breasts beneath her clingy vest. ‘God, you feel good,’ he whispered against her neck. ‘I could get used to waking up like this.’ He tweaked her clit just enough to make her sigh. She was already concentrating on the orgasm building somewhere deep in her belly, and he could feel it. He slowed his thrusting and let her pussy grasp and clench his cock with each penetration almost as though he instinctually knew what she needed. By the time her orgasm hit, turning her legs to jelly beneath her, he wrapped her in hard arms and, in a few more demanding thrusts, came with deep-chested grunts.
    When the oxygen finally returned to their lungs and their brains, he wiped her pussy with the untucked hem of his T-shirt, the same one he had wiped his face with last night, then he brought the wet fabric to his nose and inhaled. ‘I have your scent, English,’ he held her gaze. ‘Even after you’re gone, I’ll remember it, and you’ll still make me come.’
    The next day, she got her car fixed. After making sure her trucker was properly thanked for being the best Good Samaritan ever, they went their separate ways. Mark was suddenly a fading memory and life looked much brighter. She had no doubt that, even without olfactory prompts, thoughts of her South Dakota trucker would keep her coming long after she was back in England.

Productivity
    ‘You want me to do what?’ Alan’s voice cracked in a sudden bout of nerves that would have been completely unacceptable at the negotiating table.
    ‘You heard me.’ Victoria spoke like she had just asked him to hand her the stapler. ‘I’d give you a little privacy and let you do it in the loo, but you’d tell me you’d done it when you actually hadn’t, and then you’d go into this meeting with the muscles in your shoulders still like rocks and the acid in your stomach still on the rise.’ She walked to the door like she owned the place and locked it. ‘It’s my job to prevent that, so come on.’ She nodded to the fly of his trousers. ‘Trust me, you’ll feel so much better afterward, and you’ll be amazed at how much better the meeting will go.’
    He folded his hands protectively in his lap. ‘I can’t just yank one off right here in front of you.’
    ‘Course you can. I’ve got a copy of Hustler in my briefcase if that’ll help.’
    He cursed under his breath and scooted as far back in his chair as he could get.
    She rolled her eyes. ‘Look, you hired me to improve your productivity, to make you a better boss, and frankly, you’ve got no outlet.’
    ‘I’m going to the gym three times a week, just like you ordered. That’s an outlet, isn’t it?’
    She tisk-tisked him. ‘Alan, you told me yourself you haven’t had a good shag in four years.’
    ‘Three and a half,’ he corrected.
    She waved a dismissive hand. ‘The point is, humans are sexual animals, we have sexual needs, and whether you like it or not, the fact that yours aren’t getting met interferes with your productivity.’
    ‘You don’t know that.’
    She gave him a hard stare over the top of her Sarah Palin glasses. ‘Look, when you hired me, a part of