Life of an Intern, pt. III  

rm_annaalyn 35M/37F
0 posts
7/16/2006 9:55 pm
Life of an Intern, pt. III


Another symptom of being a lowly intern is that I can barely afford my rent, much less a car. So when we both work late -- something that has become a more and more frequent occurrence -- he drives me home.

The first few nights we chatted amicably about trivialities -- the sweltering heat, the network's hierarchy, the daily city-wide lockdown that is rush hour.

But it wasn't long before we moved on to more personal conversations ....

"Peanut butter."

He turned his gaze briefly from the road and cocked an eyebrow at me. "Your favorite food is peanut butter?"

"Absolutely."

"Not a juicy, rare steak? A rich chocolate souffle? How about pizza? Everybody loves pizza."

"Nope. Peanut butter."

"Peanut butter," he repeated. "What's so special about peanut butter?"

"Hmm ... I don't know, really." I thought for a moment. "It's smooth and sticky and sweet ... and I can take a huge spoonful in my mouth and go at it for as long as I want. It's a very satisfying food. I can't resist it."

"So if I put a spoonful in front of you right now, you'd eat it, no questions asked?"

"I couldn't help myself. I truly, genuinely cannot resist it."

He nodded. "I can understand that. I can't resist a big, juicy steak."

"I have trouble resisting a big piece of meat, too," I said, only realizing my double entendre when he turned and winked at me, chuckling. I felt my face flush, but I smiled and laughed with him -- it was an awfully suggestive thing to say, but it was funny because it was so unintentional.

What I said next, however, was not at all unintentional.

"It's indicative of a larger problem," I said. "I have no will power whatsoever. If there's something I crave, I have to have it. Resistance just isn't an option. It's true across the board -- certain foods, a beautiful sweater, a particular man ..."

"Really." I watched him as he stared ahead for a full minute, seemingly suppressing a grin.

We arrived at my building, but instead of pulling into the driveway to drop me off, he parked across the street under a large tree.

He unbuckled his seat belt and turned in his seat to face me. I followed his lead. "So what sort of man suits your tastes?"

I was intrigued. My boss had driven me to a dark spot in his big, luxurious SUV and asked me about my taste in men. To some women, I suppose this would seem like a threatening situation, but it didn't feel that way at all. Actually it was exciting -- my pussy got wetter with each word. I involuntarily squirmed a bit in my seat.

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