Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With a Delivery Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

not? But with me, it’s
more…’ With her nails digging into her palms, she took a sustaining breath, and
went on. ‘Look, perhaps I should tell you just exactly how far away from my
usual type you actually are.’
    John’s eyebrows rose, but mercifully, he
didn’t comment.
    ‘You know how we share a fantasy about
women?’
      Colour immediately infused John’s cheeks, and his eyes shone as he
muttered, ‘Yes.’ Jenny was sure he was thinking about seeing her with another
woman, and she could feel her own body responding to the expression on his
face.
    Forcing herself to stick to the point and
to not get lost in the prospect of their mutual desires, Jenny continued. Her
tone was low, as if scared of being overheard by the occasional passerby,
despite the fact that they were in an enclosed cab. ‘Well, to be honest, it’s
ummm, well, it’s the women I go for first. In the past they would always have
been my natural choice in a sex or relationship situation.’
    Jenny didn’t dare look at her companion as
she waited for him to say something.
    ‘But you have had boyfriends as well?’
    ‘Yes, but none that have lit the blue touch
paper, passion-wise, if you see what I mean. None that made me feel alive.’
Jenny wanted to add, ‘until you,’ but John had used the phrase ‘boyfriend,’ and
she wasn’t sure if he could be placed into that category.
    ‘Are you gay, then?’
    ‘Not really. I’m just me, honey. You could
say I was bi; but I think of it as being flexible. I like a bit of cock every
now and then, although I’ve never been keen on giving blowjobs and stuff, well,
not till, well, you know… I just prefer women… usually.’
    ‘Usually?’
    Jenny risked a glance in his direction and
sighed with relief at the pleasure evident in his eyes. Finally addressing him
properly, her muscles unclenching in response to the fervent expression of
desire on his face, she said, ‘You, Mister Courier Man, are very much the
exception to the rule. I don’t know what it is about you, but I hope I get to
find out.’
    Jenny thought John was going to say
something, but then he obviously thought better of it. He put his hands on the
steering wheel, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles were almost white, and
suddenly the convivial air became so tense it could have been folded in half.
    Searching her head for something to say to
break the uncertain mood, Jenny shifted in her seat, her eyes falling on the
row of shops nearby. ‘Do you want to go to the coffee shop to talk?’
    ‘Do up your seat-belt,’ he ordered gruffly.
And before she knew what was happening, the lorry was reversing and they were
heading out of town.
    ‘Where are we going?’
    ‘Somewhere private.’
    The perspiration that had dried on Jenny’s
palms gathered again. Five minutes later, John was parking in a deserted yard
behind a derelict warehouse.
    Anything
could happen here. Anything.
    John seemed to read her mind. ‘Don’t panic,
I’m not an axe murderer or anything.’ His acknowledgement of her unease broke
the tension.
    Tilting her head to one side, Jenny blurted
with blatant curiosity, ‘Who are you,
then?’
    ‘I could ask you the same.’ John jumped
down from the cab before letting Jenny out. ‘I know you’re an accountant. I
know you work from home, and I know you have rubbish taste in films. That’s it
– apart from knowing your tits are beautiful, your skin tastes fantastic,
you prefer girls, and that right now, thanks to that knowledge, I have the wood
from hell knocking at my underwear.’
    Unable to stop herself, Jenny looked
directly at the fly of his denims. An undeniable swelling revealed that John
wasn’t exaggerating. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to go into the café. ‘If it
helps,’ she observed John carefully as she perched on a broken rubble wall, ‘I
couldn’t be more turned on if I tried.’
    He hovered so close to her that Jenny
thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he sat just out of