...The moment Sharon stepped into Billy’s arms and they began to move to the music, once again the past ten years disappeared as she remembered other times and other places where they’d slow-danced like this—her parents’ basement family room; Billy’s bedroom, where they’d gone a few times when his parents were out; school dances, and, in particular, their high school prom when Billy and Mark Sayers had gotten themselves drunk and given their teacher, Miss Brown, a glass of soapy water they’d told the poor woman was extra-fizzy ginger ale.

She smiled at the memories, then laid her head on his shoulder, feeling his erection press against her belly as he slid his hands down over her buttocks and pulled her in close.

Sharon knew Billy was as aroused as she was. But somehow they managed to get through one more dance before saying goodnight to Megan and going out to the parking lot in search of Billy’s borrowed car.

“You want to go back to your hotel, or shall we go for a drive?” he asked as he turned on to the street and reached again for her hand. As he continued along the edge of the lake, he pressed her fingers over his rigid cock. “Unless, of course, there’s something else you’d like to do.”

“Not the hotel.” Sharon gritted her teeth and gave him a tight, little grin, wishing she could stay mad at him, but knowing she couldn’t. Billy knew damn well what she wanted to do. She wanted to get laid, by him. She wanted him to rip her clothes off, open her legs and fuck her brains out. She wanted him to make her come and come again until she was too sore to come anymore. She wanted him to take back what had always been his and, if she had her way, always would be. She wanted to smell Billy’s smell on her. She wanted to be Billy’s woman again so badly, she was having trouble holding herself together.

As they drove across town, she pulled down the zipper on his pants and slipped her hand inside, loving the feel of heat and hardness as she ran the tips of her fingers over his shaft and it responded eagerly to her touch. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private.”

“I hope it’s not the local lover’s lane.”

He made a noise like he was choking. “That’s not the place I had in mind.”

“Where then? That farmer’s field where we used to go?” The thought of making out on damp grass and maybe getting caught made her catch her breath with anticipation. She wrapped her fingers a little tighter around his penis. It was hot, it was hard, and it was hers to command.

“Somewhere we won’t be disturbed or interrupted.”

“Good. We’re a bit too old to take a chance on the cops catching us with our pants down.”