Claimed: A Forced Submission Romance by J. Jackson Page B

breathlessly. “When d’you want to leave? We can stop at my flat, if you like, before we get onto the motorway.”
    While her feelings may have been tumultuously confused, the overriding emotion Sandy felt was one of glee. “My bag’s in there,” she said indicating the little bedroom. “Just let me say good-bye to Lindsay and Alex.” As Damon disappeared after her bag, Sandy headed for the living room.
    “Damon’s driving me to Aberdeen,” she announced. The atmosphere was noticeably strained, and Sandy considered the strange circumstances. She wasn’t sure whether to thank them for their hospitality, or bid them good-riddance.
    Alex stood and extended his hand. “It was wonderful to meet you, Sandy,” he said wistfully, not completely unaware of Sandy’s inner distraction. “Sorry you couldn’t stay longer.” Dropping her hand, he leaned forward and gave her a warm, brotherly hug. Sandy could tell he wanted to say more, but knew not what to say. She couldn’t help him there. Her emotions swirled as she returned his hug in kind.
    Clasping Sandy’s hands between her own, Lindsay looked searchingly into Sandy’s eyes. She believed she could almost see the moral quandary raging in the sweet young traveler. “Good bye,” she said quietly. “God be with you.” Leaning into Sandy, Lindsay looped an arm around her waist and planted a chaste but meaningful kiss on Sandy’s cheek.
    Sandy felt a pang. She liked Lindsay, despite everything, and would have liked to stay longer and really get to know her. “Maybe another time,” she whispered, more to herself.
    Lindsay nodded, softly agreeing, “Maybe.”
    Gently releasing herself from Lindsay’s embrace, Sandy whispered, “Bye,” and, with a peck at Lindsay’s cheek, she turned to join Damon at the front door. Her tummy was all a-flutter with the realization of what she was about to do. “Bye,” she called again, over her shoulder, then, not exactly sure what she meant, she added, “Thanks for everything!” as she took Damon by the hand and raced out to his car.
    After opening her door for her and getting her seated, Damon shot off like the legendary Le Mans start, jumping into place and spinning his tires as he took off. “We’ll just stop at my flat, okay?” he asked, as if still not believing his good fortune.
    “Of course,” Sandy tittered. “That’s part of the deal.” She felt as light and giddy as a schoolgirl on a first date. There was a sense of the surreal as Damon careened across the countryside and into town, to pull up in front of a neat little council-house. Curiously, Sandy noted that her panties were damp. They hadn’t been when she’d left Lindsay. Her reaction fueled her anticipation and in detecting the dampness, exacerbated it. If she wasn’t careful, the wet spot would show on her jeans before she even got inside. “Oooooh,” she trilled, quietly, as Damon raced around to open her door, “What a strange whirligig I’ve managed to find.” Her head was swimming with possibilities and outcomes. Just where she was headed she wasn’t sure, but it seemed certain she was picking up speed. Feeling terribly evil, yet delightfully mischievous, Sandy skipped up the stoop and through the opened doorway. Spinning about the entrance, holding her hands out like a pleased child, she giggled and said, “Well? Where do you want me?”
    Damon’s look dripped with lust and self-satisfaction. After all, wasn’t he about to get a dessert his mates might well kill for? As he pointed toward the bedroom, Sandy threw her arms around him and pulled him hard into her, crushing her tits against his chest, and her lips on his. “How ‘bout right here?” she asked innocently, when he broke for a breath, and she began peeling his shirt from his shoulders. Dropping to her knees right there in the hall, she tugged on his zipper, while pulling out his shirt-tails. Recovering his already turgid penis from his shorts she kissed the tip, then,