“That rotten cock sucker!” Rhonda shouted aloud as she sped down the highway. Dave hadn’t even had the decency to deny it that evening when she got out of the shower and confronted him with the private investigator’s report and the accompanying photographs. His only defense had been that his job caused him so much stress he needed the relief of that cunt secretary of his sucking his dick several times a week. She threw the manila folder in his face, pulled a sundress over her nude body, grabbed a bottle of scotch from the bar and stormed out of the house, speeding off in her sports car. Twenty five years of marriage, during which she had given up her own career, had given up on the prospect of having children, all to further his rise within the firm.
The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon as she rounded the long curve along Lake Shore Drive. Suddenly, Rhonda realized how badly she needed to pee and began to slow down to make the turn into the parking area with a view of the lake. Pulling in near a cluster of trees at the near end, she parked and got out of the car. Turning to her left, Rhonda saw the figures of two men with their backs toward her standing at the far end of the rest area. Next to them were two motorcycles. She almost didn’t notice them since they were dressed in what appeared to be, from the distance, black leather biker garb.
On a whim, she started to walk toward them. As she approached, Rhonda could see that the two guys had evidently stopped for the same reason she had… they were each taking a piss. Either they hadn’t heard her pull in, or they didn’t care, because neither of them turned her way until she was nearly upon them and said, “Hi guys, mind if I join you?”
