The ride home was a familiar one. Silent and tension filled. The tension had Missy warm and tingly and the alcohol had her feeling brave. She slid ...cross the seat and pressed herself up against his side. She put her hand on his thigh and pressing her fingers into his muscles she ran it up, eager to grasp him in her hand. She could see that he was hard beneath his jeans. He grasped her wrist and held it, stopping her hand, holding it still where it was. She pulled away from him and slid. “Let’s do it.”Tyrone led her out to the warehouse floor where several cameras and lights had been set up around a mattress in the middle of the concrete floor. As she strutted out to the mattress, five towering black men entered from another doorway. Even though they were all wearing underwear Denise could tell that they were packing some serious meat and she smiled. The director, an older white guy introduced all of them and laid out what he wanted them to do. His instructions were fairly. More

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