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When a young lawyer starts taking the bus to his new job, he finds his seatmate has more in store for him than he imagined. In the course of a short week, they share a torrid connection -- without leaving their seats.

"Week Of The Golden Girl" is a sizzling erotic story from the collection "Girls On Top." It features S.R. Delaney's uniquely provocative combination of sharp writing, sensual realism, and a temperature level hot enough to make you beg for more.

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Excerpt:

She looked out the window at the morning sun trying to break through the overcast, and then took out a phone and started texting. I pretended to read my textbook, but now that she was sitting next to me the balance sheets and stock options were replaced by the image of those fat, round tits inside the round purple cups of her bra. I let my hand roam over to her knee, just like yesterday. She didn’t budge. I let my fingers travel up her leg – under her skirt this time – and then move to the soft skin on the inside of her thigh, as close as I could get to her panties without exposing her to the rest of the world.

That’s where the zipper came in. She’d had a plan all along. With her left hand, she reached down to her knee and quickly moved the zipper up about an inch, then went back to texting. I looked at the tantalizing little wedge of pink thigh that was now exposed. Time to move.

I pinched the cold little zipper and moved it up just slowly enough to avoid the incriminating zzzziippp sound that would alert everyone I was trying to undress a stranger in public. I bent my elbow and got the thing up to the top of her thigh, then let my hand slide under her skirt and into her lap. I palmed her naked left thigh, freshly shaven, perfectly smooth and with just enough baby fat to hide her thigh muscles. I slid my hand into the warm valley between her legs, then northward, all the time pretending to stay immersed in the book spread out on my lap. I moved my hand up to touch her cotton panties and found that they’d vanished. She’d had the balls to go al fresco on a forty degree morning, in a thin skirt, no less. I touched the soft mound of her freshly shaved pussy, the skin slightly rough, like fine sandpaper. I felt a thin, soft tuft of hair right above her clit.

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