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He grasped me firmly, but gently, just above my elbow and guided me into a

room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone.



He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring

voice close to my ear. "Just relax." Without warning, he reached down and I

felt his strong, calloused hands start at my ankles, gently probing, and

moving upward along my calves, slowly but steadily. My breath caught in my

throat.



I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so

experienced, so sure. When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight

shudder, and partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt his

knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my rib-cage. And then, as he cupped my firm,

full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply.



Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my

shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine to my panties. Although I knew

nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant. This is a man, I thought.



A man used to taking charge. A man not used to taking 'No' for an answer.



A man who would tell me what he wanted.


A man who would look into my soul and say . . . .






Okay ma'am, you can board your flight now."
 
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