You push open the car door with weak arms, struggle out and stand, legs wobbling. You shiver as the night air chills your saturated cunt and the rivulets leaking down your thighs.

You stumble up the walk, the shards of your now crotchless pantyhose prickling, your ears ringing with begging pleas, vulgar exhortations, and a chorus of cumming cries. 

Reflected in the front door window, you see the disheveled hair, the smeared lipstick, the glisten of passion bathing your skin.

It's crystal clear now.

When Connie Nichols offers you a ride home from book club,

always, always, always answer

Yes!