Maybe life is like pushing a dead car over a hill. It takes a lot of effort to get there, but eventually you get over the crest, and you can relax and enjoy the ride down the other side. That is, assuming that the brakes work and things don't get out of control. You should really keep track of those things.

I guess I wasn't keeping track. Things were coasting along very nicely, I thought, and then my wife decided she wanted to ride in someone else's car. My life limped to the side of the road as she drove away with him. They make each other happy, so there is that.

Maybe life is like a stone rolling down a hill. It takes some effort to get it going, but then gravity pulls it along until it stops. My stone hadn't stopped, I guess, but it wasn't really rolling, and there was moss growing on it. I needed to clean it off and give it a push just to see if there was any hill left.

I started by joining a gym. I wasn't entirely out of shape, but I certainly wasn't in good shape. I was fairly pleased with how quickly it all came back. I was doing three days a week of strength training and three days a week of aerobics, and both my strength and stamina seemed to be improving weekly.

I was only disappointed by one aspect of the gym. Jumping back to my first analogy, I had my eyes open for a passenger. There were plenty of women there, especially in the aerobics class that I attended, but none of them were quite what I was looking for.

Maybe life is like a heavy dumbbell, flung aside by a careless lifter, rolling until someone else's ankle stops it. That's a terrible analogy, even if it was somebody else's weight, and my ankle. The sounds that I felt up my leg as the bones broke were terrible as well.

The rehabilitation process started out as pure torture, and pressed on into self-induced agony. It took six weeks for the bones to mend, and a couple months of basic therapy before I could trade out the crutches for a cane.

I met Tanya when I moved into advanced physical therapy. She was the doctor in charge of the therapy clinic, but she decided to take my case personally. Working with her to improve my ankle was nearly agony.

She was everything that I would have wanted in a woman. She was a few years younger than me, and very pretty. She worked out to stay in shape because the physical side of her job demanded it. She was very smart, with PHD's in both medical science and therapy. She was eternally happy and optimistic, and her enthusiasm touched all of her patients.

By my own ethics, she was also untouchable. I can imagine that all of the traits that made her attractive to me made her attractive to every red blooded male that she met. I am sure that most of her adult patients had hit on her at least once. I refused to be like that. As a therapist, she deserved a great deal of respect and I treated her with honor.

Not that my inner demons didn't make themselves known. My baser side was sure that she was flirting with me at every turn. I would arrive early for my appointments, and I would see how she was with other patients. Her hand would linger on my shoulder much longer than she did for other patients. She would flip her hair out of her eyes and she would lick her lips more often when she talked to me that with others.

The most unnerving thing she did involved the machine that I used. I have never seen anything like it anywhere else. You sit in it, and strap your feet into pedals, almost like a reclined bike. The exercise motion is more like a flutter kick for swimming. A little gauge shows how much force you are getting through your ankle to your toes. A little dial allows you to set the resistance.

I have seen her strap other patients into the machine. When she adjusts their resistance, and checks the gauge, she squats to the side by their hips, and leans in to see. For me, she moves behind me, squatting with her hands on my shoulders, leaning forward with her face right next to mine. I can feel the warmth of her cheek next to mine, and smell her sensual scent. God forbid she make an adjustment on the machine!

Her arm slides between my body and my arm as she reaches in from behind me to adjust the dial. Her arm will fall to rest on my ribs as she watches the gauge. I am sure she is merely using her hand to monitor my breathing, but her touch feels more like a caress, at least to my imagination.

My imagination insisted that her advances were intentional. My ethics countered that it was incidental. The battle between the two was more agonizing than the physical therapy.

I was both relieved and disappointed when my insurance ran out. To my horror and delight, Tanya suggested an elegant solution. By working as a volunteer at the hospital/clinic where her offices are, I had full access to the rehab facility after hours to continue on my own. I saw her fairly regularly, but she was no longer there to invade my personal space.

Maybe life is like a brisk walk along the trails in an unfamiliar park. At every fork in the trail, you know each path will go somewhere interesting, but you can only see so far. Sometimes both paths look promising.

How do I begin to describe Megan? First off, she is dreadfully young, fast approaching the category of 'too young for me'. She is not pretty, but she is enticingly unique. She is very tom-boyish, almost to the point of being butch, which is a plus in her job as a security guard. She is also a highly skilled flirt.

Most people wouldn't believe that. As a volunteer, one of my jobs is to escort people who need access to the clinic offices after regular hours. They have to check in at security, where Megan is the face of authority and professionalism. The only time she changes is when we are alone.

She can say more with a smirk and a flash of her eyes than most people can say with words. She always suggests that it's time for me to vary my workout, with her guidance of course. Without ever saying so, she conveys that working out with her would require a certain lack of clothing. Many times she has suggested that she has interesting training gear in a suitcase in her closet that I simply must try!

Of course, I smile, and play along for a bit. My ethics jump in again and I realize that she is a co-worker. It would be just as improper to accept her advances as it would be to make advances on Tanya. Not that the lustful dreams of my inner demons cared. They demanded that I turn left, or right, and stop taking the straight and narrow path.

Maybe life is like water droplets on a window in the mist. Bit by bit, the droplets grow, until finally one breaks free and rolls down the glass. Maybe it was time to get rolling. I worry about what the window's edge represents.

I ended my volunteer shift later than usual. The immediate care clinic had been very busy, while the hospital was very slow. The areas around the various offices and the other departments were nearly deserted. I could tell Megan was bored as I approached the checkpoint.

"Time to go get sweaty?" she asked as her eyes flashed.

"Better late than never," I answered politely.

"You know," she leered, "if you're going to stay this late, you might as well stay until I get off shift. I could show you how to get real sweaty."

"That sounds like fun," I said, trying to sound friendly. "You know I have a real job to go to in the morning, and it's nearly my bedtime."

"You'll sleep better after the workout I'd give you," she suggested. "You'd be happy with how I'd keep you up!" Her eyes dropped briefly to my crotch, just to make sure I caught her hint.

"That sounds delightful," I answered politely. "Enjoy the rest of your evening," I suggested as I continued on my way to the therapy room.

As I walked through the lonely, dark corridors of the clinic, lonely and dark suggestions kept percolating out of my mind. I could just about convince myself that I should take Megan up on her offer just once. I ignored all of those dark thoughts as I changed into shorts and t-shirt and started stretching and warming up. The more I tried to ignore them, the louder they sounded.

My workout was just starting to make me breathe hard when I heard the solenoid latch on the office door buzz. As the door swung open, the voices in my head were screaming at me to let her have anything she asked for. Even they were shocked silent when Tanya walked in.

She gave me a big smile as she greeted me. "Hi John! How's my favorite non-patient doing?"

"Hi Doctor W___," I answered back. "I'm doing well. Is that an actual billing category?"

She smiled at my attempted humor. "It's an un-official category for an un-official follow-up." Her hand gave my knee a push to instruct me to start moving my feet again. "As long as we're being all un-official, you should call me Tanya."

"Anything you want, Doc," I answered. She laughed at my jest. Then she moved around to my shoulders to check the reading on the gauge. Her hands were resting on my shoulders for balance, and her cheek was nearly touching mine.

"How does it feel?" she asked. Her lips were nearly on my ear. I desperately wanted to tell her how she was making me feel.

"There is almost never pain," I said. "It only hurts if I go faster than a jog, or if I misstep on the stair climber. It always aches, but it’s only bad if I spent too much time on my feet during the day."

"Does it feel like muscle pain or tendon pain?" she asked. To illustrate her question, her fingers slid across the muscles of my upper chest and then probed along my ribs. My heart skipped a beat and I had to remind myself to breathe.

"I'm not sure," I finally managed to answer. "It comes and goes quickly, so it doesn't feel like a muscle cramp or a strained ligament."

Her lips were still right next to my ear. "I'd like you to come with me," she said, and I nearly died. She added, "And not too quickly, I should hope."

My legs slowed to a stop as I tried to decide if I had heard her right. Maybe my thoughts about the things Megan had said were making me hear things that Tanya wasn't saying.

"This way," she said as she popped the straps loose at my feet. She walked across the office to a different group of machines. I forced my straying mind back onto the straight and narrow path, and followed her.

The machine she had me sit in was a standard leg press machine. She set the weight and had me press up with my legs, and then lower it again. She sat very close to me and leaned over me to make an adjustment on the foot pads.

I didn't really pay attention to what she adjusted. As she leaned into the machine to make the adjustment, she was leaning across my leg. I was acutely aware of her breast resting on my knee. It took every bit of my will power to stop my leg from moving against her to take its measure.

She was oblivious to my inner struggle. As she sat back, she left one hand on my inner thigh near my knee. Her hand felt extremely warm on my flesh.

"Lift again," she instructed, and I did. It wasn't as easy as the first time. She had turned the top of the footpad away. My toes were therefore pointed away, and I had to concentrate on keeping traction with my feet. Her hand stroked my leg to command me and I set the weights down.

She leaned forward to adjust the machine, and my imagination just about bowled me over. I imagined that instead of just leaning forward, she swooped forward. Instead of having her breast just pressed against my leg, she slid her cleavage along my leg to press both breasts against me. I had no idea whether or not she adjusted the machine.

"Again," she instructed, and I pressed the weight up. This time, she had the top of the pad turned sharply back. I was able to lift without any problems.

I was barely able to speak, as both of her hands caressed my thigh. "That is pulling on the tendons in my arch," I was able to say. She nodded and I set the weight down.

She turned toward me, saying, "It might just be false nerve impulses."

I couldn't reply.

As she turned, her hand on my outer thigh slid over the top of my leg to my inner thigh, and all the way down into the open leg of my shorts to my crotch. She studied my face with a half smile on her own. Her hand remained on my leg, but her fingers caressed along the hem of my underwear.

"Tighty whities?" she teased, making fun of my choice in underclothes. I couldn't stop from blushing.

"Only for working out," I managed to say. "Things need some support," I explained.

She didn't respond. Her fingers continued to stroke along my leg as I stared into her eyes and tried to see how far she would push. Her eyebrows twitched.

"So, I'm trying to figure out why you aren't taking what I'm offering," she said. Her tongue barely snuck out to wet her lips, and she waited.

My mind couldn't formulate an answer. There were too many variables, too many risks, and far too many naughty thoughts in my head.

My hands knew what to do. One slid onto her hip and the other slid up her arm to her neck, caught her hair, and pulled her into a kiss.

She moaned her approval, and my tongue leapt forward to taste her desire. She opened herself to me and she breathed in my desire.

She pressed her lips onto mine while pressing her head back into my hand. I took a bigger handful of hair and held her close. I turned her head and kissed and nibbled my way to her neck.

"Oh, Daddy, that's what I..." she started say, but the stopped short with a gasp.

I eased my grip in her hair, and let her push back a bit.

"That's what you need?" I asked gently. "Or should I ask, 'That is what. Baby-girl?'"

She caught her bottom lip with her teeth, and slow let it slide free. She swallowed and then smiled.

"That's a game I didn't want to start yet," she answered. Her eyes never left mine.

"That's a game I would only play if you really, really wanted to," I told her.

"We should find a different game to play," she suggested.

She smiled and abruptly stood up. She caught my hands and pulled me to my feet. She steered me backwards and pushed me to straddle the end of a padded bench. She straddled the bench and me as well. She sat with her legs over mine, facing me.

"I say you're wearing too many clothes," she pronounced. She caught the front of my t-shirt and pulled it up. I lifted my arms, and she pulled the shirt up over my head. At the last moment, she twisted it and caught my hands behind my head. She sighed lustily as she first kissed my lips, and then turned to playfully bite my biceps and shoulders. Eventually, she let go of the shirt to run her hands up and down my chest as she kissed and nibbled.

"I say you're wearing too many clothes," I declared as I threw my shirt aside. She smiled as raised her hands. I trapped her hands just as she had done mine. We were both making lusty sounds as I nibbled on her arms and shoulders. She threw her shirt aside and pulled me in for another kiss.

"Say it again," she moaned into the kiss.

"Too many clothes," I managed to reply.

Together we made her bra disappear, and then she pushed me down to kiss her breasts. Her small C cup breasts fit her perfectly, and they filled my hands and mouth perfectly as well. She let me taste and tease until both of her nipples were perked up and happy, and then she pulled me back up into a kiss again. Her skin and breasts felt exquisitely good against me.

Pushing away, she smiled and said, "I say you're wearing too many clothes."

She was still sitting on my lap, facing me. Her hand slid down my side and pulled at the elastic of my workout shorts. Her smile got bigger.

I wasn't sure how far she would take this game. There probably wouldn't be anyone passing by in the hallway, but we were very exposed to anyone that did. I trusted the confidence I saw in her eyes. Grabbing her ass in both hands, I lifted her as I stood up. She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me.

She let her legs drop to the ground, and I let her slide away from me. She slid down my body, planting kisses along the way. She caught my shorts and underwear and pressed them down my legs. I kicked my shoes off, and then kicked the clothes away. She pushed me to sit on the edge of the bench as she knelt between my legs.

"It's so hard to resist," she teased, and she smiled at her own pun.

Her eyes watched mine to make sure I was watching as she nibbled down one side of my hard shaft and back up the other side. She gave me a naughty smile and the tipped her head forward to swallow my cock whole.

I caught her hair in a tight grip as she bobbed up and down. I think we both enjoyed knowing that I could have forced her deeper, but didn't. Just as I reached the point of making a decision to end quickly or not, she let my cock pop out of her mouth and she kissed her way up my body. She left one hand holding my cock.

After a quick kiss on the lips, she leaned back and looked at me expectantly. It only took me a moment to remember the game.

"I say you're wearing too many clothes," I said, following the rules.

Breaking the rules, in a very pleased voice, she said, "No I'm not."

To prove her point, she dropped back into my lap. She used her hand on my cock to guide it inside. She was exceedingly aroused, and although the fit was tight, we slid together nicely. It took me a moment or two to remember to breathe. I had no idea how she managed to lose her clothes.

She sat on me with a very pleased look on her face. When I finally managed to take a breath and smile into her eyes, she traced her fingers across my shoulders and down my arms.

"Lift and thrust," she instructed.

I grabbed her ass and lifted. She gasped as she bent to plant her teeth in my bicep. I started rocking into her and she cried out in joy. She quickly nibbled her way back up my arm, across my shoulders, and up my neck. As her lips met mine, she rocked into an orgasm.

We continued to rock together as she came. Her body trembled, and her moans and whimpers sounded like she was about to break into tears. As she ended, we slowed until I held her in my arms.

"Sorry," she said with a shaky smile, "I’ve been lusting."

I kissed her gently.

"Two can play that game, as well," I suggested.

My hand slid into her hair again, and I gently pulled her head back. She smiled and purred as I nibbled down her neck to her shoulder. Tipping her head back more, I nibbled my way onto her breast. At the same time, I started rocking into her again.

She moaned her approval and started rolling her hips against me. As we moved faster, I nibbled my way around the edge of her breast to the perfect hanging curve at the bottom. I pulled away for a moment. She opened her eyes to see why I had stopped. I gave her a naughty smile and held her eyes as I attacked her hard nipple. I used teeth and tongue and lips, and in moments she cried out and came again. She wrapped her arms around my head and held me tight to her breast the whole time.

Eventually, we slowed, and I kissed my way up to her lips again. There were tears of joy on her face. After another gentle kiss, I used her hair to pull her away.

"You know what my physical therapist always says, don't you?" I teased. She shook her head in confusion.

"Always keep your workout balanced," I reminded her. She still had no idea what I was saying.

I pulled her head back and quickly nibbled down to her other breast. I also started thrusting up into her as well.

Her eyes went round in surprise.

"Oh, Daddy, it's too soon," she wailed. I might have believed her if her hips weren't already thrusting down against me harder than I was pushing up into her.

I made sure she saw my evil smile before I attacked her nipple, using a lot of teeth and tongue. She cried out and I felt her body racing towards another orgasm.

She grabbed my head and ripped it from her breast to pull my face up to her own.

"Please, Daddy, now!" she insisted, crying "I need you! Cum with me!"

She attacked my lips much harder than I had attacked her breasts, and I couldn't stop from giving in to her demands. She felt my cock surge inside her and she exploded into her biggest orgasm yet. I continued to thrust into her for as long as I could. We were both breathless as we slowed to hold each other and gently kiss.

When we could finally breathe again, she let her hand tip my head up to make eye contact.

"I did it again," she said apologetically. We both knew she was talking about the name she had called me.

"It didn't sound like a game this time," I pointed out.

We sat and looked at each other as we decided what to do next. Once again, there were too many variables, and too many risks for me to make a wise choice. I did realize that we were awfully exposed as we sat there.

"We need to clean up and get dressed," I suggested.

Her eyes flared. "Oh, yes!" she exclaimed.

She lifted a bit and wiggled her hips against me. We both trembled as my very sensitive cock slid out of her. She rocked against it and more wetness rolled out of her, making her tremble all over.

In one fluid motion, she stood, stepped back, and dropped to her knees. Before I could do anything, she had filled her mouth with my cock and the puddled wetness around it. She moaned, and I trembled. As her head started to bob up and down, I caught her hair and held her from over-stimulating me.

She struggled against my grip as she tried to get more of my cock and the flavors. I gripped tighter, and she moaned in need and pleasure. I was terrified to feel myself getting harder in her mouth. I used her hair to pull her to her feet as I stood up.

"Shower. Clothes," I managed to say. She shuddered against me, and then nodded. And then she pulled me into a deep kiss.

Our mixed flavors still filled her mouth, and we tasted unbelievably good together. I have never wanted to taste my own flavors. She wanted me to share and taste the flavors that she loved, and I loved it. There's probably a saying about old dogs that applies here, but I was too lost in enjoying her to think of it.

We continued to kiss as I lifted her. She wrapped her legs around my hips and I carried her to the small changing room and shower. We rinsed and dried quickly.

"You're following me home," she commanded as we separated to get dressed.

"We are not finished," I agreed as we cleaned up the mess we had made on the equipment.

Maybe life is like pushing a car over a hill. I kept catching the looks Tanya was giving me. We were going to push the car together, and we were both looking forward to enjoying the ride down the other side. There was no way we were going to let the car wreck.

If only Megan hadn't thrown a spike strip across the road to take out our tires.

Megan stepped out of her booth as we approached. She had probably seen us coming in the security cameras.

"Doctor W___. Sir. May I have a word with you both?" she asked very formally. Tanya and I exchanged a quick glance before stopping to see what Megan wanted.

"Do you know," Megan said, looking at Tanya, "that I suspected something was up when you asked me to ring your desk phone if anyone went past here."

I struggled to keep myself from looking at Tanya with a guilty smirk. No wonder she had been so confident that we wouldn't be caught.

"You know I had to check up on you two," Megan continued and then paused. "Do you know, I'm a little disappointed right now."

I couldn't stop from stealing a glance at Tanya. She looked as guilty as I did.

"I have been flirting with the two of you for weeks," Megan said. "I thought for sure I'd have managed a fling with one or the other of you. It never occurred to me that you had the hots for each other. Based on the picture that I took through the window, I probably haven't a chance at all, now."

She tried for a moment to actually look sad, but an evil grin won out.

"Of course, I have this photo," she said, waving her phone at us. It wasn't turned on, but we were pretty sure we knew what it would show. "I'd hate to use the term 'blackmail', but here's what I want. You two will go straight to the doctor's house. I will be there in forty-five minutes. You will both do exactly as I say, and then I will delete the photo. Are we clear, or do I need to include the photo in a report?"

I stole another glance at Tanya. She was as shocked as I was.

"There's no need to report anything," I stammered. "We'll be there."

Just then, a maintenance worker came around the corner, heading towards us. Megan made a closing statement with a flare of her eyes, and then turned to deal with him.

As Tanya and I exited the building, she began to shake as she fought off the need to cry. As we walked together across the lot, it took almost all of my will power to keep from taking her in my arms and promising that we would find a way to fix this. She was sputtering so badly that I didn't think she would make it to the cars.

As we walked between the cars and out of sight of the building, Tanya suddenly grabbed my shirt. She slammed my back against her car as she pulled my face down and she aggressively kissed me.

The kiss faltered as her emotions overtook her. What I had mistaken for sobs of worry erupted into gleeful laughter. I was suddenly quite worried for her sanity.

"Do you trust me?" she asked through the laughter.

"What do you have in mind?" I asked. I was afraid of what her answer would be, but I couldn't help but smile with her.

"We are going to my place, and I am going to have you back inside me like I need," she said lustily. "When Megan gets there, give me a few minutes with her, and then she'll be doing anything at all that we ask her to do."

I had no idea what she was planning. The look in her eyes was all I needed to convince myself to say yes.

Maybe life is like having a car. If it has problems, you have to push, and that's easier with help. But maybe the car shouldn't be dead at all. Maybe the car has a big V8 engine, off-road suspension, and puncture-proof tires. With an outlook like that, you're in for one hell of a ride!

I couldn't help but smiling as I held Tanya's door for her and then ran around to jump in as her passenger.