—–Present Day—————————–

Shane raised an eyebrow, watching Carmen carefully.

What?

Carmen blinked and laughed softly. Shane turned around, placing her arms around Carmens waist.

Once again I ask you, what? Carmen stopped laughing and leaned in, pressing her hips against Shanes and illiciting a small groan.

I was just thinking about that night, after you met my parents.

Shane closed her eyes and felt a blush rising up behind her ears. She no longer cursed it.

The space between them closed and suddenly it was just happening, lips and hands stroking, searching, until Carmen caught the sight of the bathroom wall clock in the mirror. 12:05.

*****, we cant be that late. She rushed out of the bathroom to search for her purse. Shane groaned, and not in a good way.

*****, Carmen…you cant do that to me.

Carmens head popped back in the bathroom, purse in hand.

I know, its just as bad for me…I swear, Ill make it up to you when we get back.

With a wink, she grabbed Shanes hand and lead her out of the bathroom…and then turned so quickly that they bumped into each other. Shane looked at her, confused as *****.

What?

 Before we get to the parents…dont even think Ive forgotten about that accessory of yours. She accentuated this with a tap on Shanes nose.

Of course, just the verbal mention of this made Shane curse the screaming throb in her pants. Carmen decided any more would be torture, so she simply grinned and continued her way to the car, looking over her shoulder at Shane.

Coming?

Shane gave her a stare that could pierce steel.

Right, but soon baby, I promise.

Shane gave her a I hate waiting but I will anyway nod and moved to find her keys.

Carmen exited the bedroom, smiling and shaking her head. Lunch was going to be delicious torture. Shane found her keys on the vanity, and just as she was about to grab them, turn and dash for the door, she saw herself in the mirror, leaned over the padded bench in front of the vanity. She leaned back, eyed the bench as a wonderful image passed through her mind. Carmen, bent over the raised edge of the bench, legs spread, that black skirt from three nights before raised above her waist, panties at her knees. Still wearing her heels. Her eyes glazed and blurry with desire. Her gorgeous pink ***** glistening with arousal and held open because of the way her hips were raised, so that Shane could see it clearly as she thrust all nine inches into her from behind, riding her body as she bucked and moaned uncontrollably. Fifteen rushed minutes later, amongst chatter and hyper children, Shane cursed the suddenly prominent phallic shape of tamales.