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At thirty-eight years of age, Joshua Carson was an up and comer. Well educated and articulate, he was the first African-American to rise to the position of District Accounts Manager with the prestigious firm of Kelsey-Chetland, the first without "Professional Athlete" on his resume at least. Tall and handsome, he was a guy you felt comfortable talking with and rumour had it, he had a way with the ladies. He could charm the feathers off a bird and make it feel happy about it. He was great with young or old, black or white, male or female. He was a natural. No doubt about it, Joshua Carson was definitely a man on the way up.

But at this particular moment, Joshua Carson was going nowhere. He sat impatiently in a long line of cars waiting for something, anything, to happen. Every day it seemed, there was a car with its hood up at the side of the road and every day it seemed, every passing motorist had to slow down to have a look. "What's so interesting about an overheated radiator," he thought? Today was a little different. A three car fender bender lay up ahead in the merge lane, making access to the only bridge to cross the Soneeset River impossible. Nothing to do but wait.

A young girl dressed in a white V-neck teeshirt and faded jeans walked slowly towards Carson's blue Miata. Long brown hair with a thin slightly upturned nose, enchanting almond shaped eyes and full red lips. For a split second, Joshua smiled as he imagined those ruby red lips clenched tightly around the base of his thick hard cock. As the girl passed Carson's car, he marvelled at her profile. She had a tiny ...

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