Green Panties

"Here! Take this!" She leaned across the passenger seat and held something out to him, a tiny white card. He took it from her, barely brushing her fingertips. She immediately retreated into her car and rolled up the window.

He turned the card, it was a business card, over in his fingers a few times. The front held the name of some web design firm. The back had a scrawled number. He glanced at the BMW, then at the long line of Santas and picked up his cellular phone. He'd probably get her answering machine or her boyfriend, but hell, you never knew.

"Hello?" The voice was a huskier version of the one that had yelled at . He went from a nice semi to fully erect in .04 seconds. He looked over at her again; she was on her cell

...

"Your panties. What color are they?"

"Green."

"I'd pictured you in blue, but green is good too." His heart raced, did he have the balls to do it? She did start it, so it wasn't exactly sexual harassment. What the hell. "What kind of panties?"

"Kind?"

"Your panties."

"They're french cut."

"French cut? What do those look like?" He watched some of her fingers slide under her skirt, his hand went back to front of his jeans.

"They're high cut in the hips."

"Cotton?"

"Nylon, like green satin."

"Wet?"

"Yes." She sucked in a breath, as if just realizing what she'd admitted to.

"I can see your hand. Well, part of it, the rest of it is under your skirt."

"Oh my god," she murmured. Her hand froze; he could see it quiver. Would she pull it away from herself?

It gets a lot better. And it has a surprise ending, too!