Busted…in a Parking Garage

September 5, 2008

Yesterday after work I met up with Dave to hang out for a bit.  He looked hot, the best I’ve seen him look yet.  He had on jeans and a nice belt and shoes.  His shirt was really cool.  My first thought was Charlie Brown on LSD.  I shared my observation and he told me it was designed by a Hip-Hop artist and Japanese designer.  Dave is 10 years older than me and his hair has already turned completely silver.  But, damn, he looked good.  Never underestimate the power and impact of great fashion sense.

After getting caught up on what was new in our lives and the currently bizarre world of politics, he walked me to my car.  It was already almost 7pm (i.e., past rush hour) and since my car was parked several levels below ground, it’s a little hard to get to.  For some reason, they close the elevators and stairways at 6pm, so you actually have to walk around in circles to get to your car.  Weird.

We finally get to my car, which is parked at the end of a dead end, three levels under ground.  There are no cars, except for a red Mazda Miata right next to my car.  We proceeded to have a fun make-out session on the other side of a cement pillar.  We were aiming for being discreet, which was only possible if the owner of the Miata didn’t get their car in the next 10 minutes or so.  In Match.com lingo, Dave finds PDA (public displays of affection) a turnon, while I list PDA as a turnoff.

As we are enjoying the most of our brief make-out session, Dave grabbed my brea…(crap my boss just walked by, I better get back to work)…sts, animalistically (I just invented this word), one in each hand.  We had been making out for less than 2 minutes and the owner of the Miata came to get her car.  He removed his hands from my breasts and stepped back and shyly chuckled.  I’d never seen him embarrassed before.  He looked so damn cute!  It was an incredibly endearing moment.

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