And I wanted him in the worst way.Which translated into manic babble in the back of the cab. With my anxiety replaced by lust, I couldn't stop talking... until without saying a word he shut me down. It was gentle, and patient, but it was a command, of that there was no doubt. And it worked. It stilled me, and I didn't say a word the rest of the cab ride. My mind was buzzing, working on what he'd said. That we needed to talk (ominous, but his tone of voice didn't sound ominous) and this wasn't the. I was driving myself mad, and I knew I had to talk to her. It was with this train of thought running in the back of my mind that I stopped, as usual of late, on my way into work one afternoon to get a mint chocolate chip shake. She was there, dressed in her work attire of a two-button polo shirt and khaki mid-thigh shorts. The shirt was snug enough to accent the gentle curve of her breasts, which looked to be small handfuls, maybe a nice 32B if I had to guess, yet she always left the buttons. More

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