The sharp taste of her stunned him, so different was it from what he’d known most of his life. Her tongue and full lips sucked his own, and her teeth bit his flesh. Despite the cramped quarters, they were not still. Their bodies slid, twisted, and probed, pressing together until no pocket of air remained between them. Their movements had a frantic quality, driven by the knowledge that after years of denial they might only have a few moments in this protective darkness. Tom wanted to squeeze her breasts, but he held back until he heard her skirt slide up her stockings. Thus encouraged, he unzipped the back of her white uniform dress and pulled it from her muscular shoulders. A low-pitched purr rose from her throat, then she reached back and unhooked her bra. Tom wasn’t sure how to proceed in the confined space. Viola solved his dilemma by entwining her arms behind his neck, pulling herself up, and closing her thighs around his waist.

Even through her stockings, the heat from her pubis felt like the coffee mug he sometimes set between his legs as he drove to work. Despite being married for four years, Viola had never borne children, and her breasts were firm and high. As Tom kneaded them, he noticed they felt made of muscle rather than fat. He bent his neck and sucked a swollen nipple into his mouth. She moaned deep in her throat, then choked off the sound as though suddenly remembering the danger.

“There’s not enough room,” he whispered. “The door’s going to break open.”

“Let me down,” she said. “Scoot back. It’s locked.”

Tom pressed his back against the door so hard that the wood groaned.

As Viola slowly turned away, she said, “There’s not enough room to take my stockings off.”

“It’s all right,” he replied, not meaning it. “We can wait.”

He heard a swish of polyester against nylon, then a sharp ripping sound. Blood throbbed in his veins.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

He reached down, seeking out her hand in the dark. His fingers slid across her bare behind, found her grasping fingers. He pressed them against the swelling in his pants. She deftly unzipped him with a nurse’s confidence. When she closed her hand around his penis, he sucked in his breath, afraid he would lose control then and there. He felt her rise on tiptoe, tugging him forward, under her rump.

“Jesus,” he whispered, bending his knees. “Will they hear us?”

“They’ll think we’re working on the machine. Just push.”

He pushed.

She sucked in her breath sharply. “Lower down.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh,” she groaned, much too loudly.