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It was late afternoon on a warm summers day. I had visited a client in Glasgow and was returning to Edinburgh. The traffic was slow and I was thankful for my air conditioning. The traffic became heavier and soon we came to a stop. Typical, the day I really wanted to get back to the office to impress my new boss, and it just wasn't going to happen. The traffic edged slowly on at this rate it would be well past seven by the time I got home. A sign by the edge of the motorway named the towns available from the next exit a ½ mile ahead. Livingston is a dreary new town but suddenly I remembered that some friends of friends lived in a small village just outside. Fiona and her partner Ruth lived in an old cottage that they had renovated and extended. It was out on its own the end of a lane between two farms. I had met them both at one of our client's functions. Fiona is a lawyer and by accident they were placed next to me for dinner. Ruth was introduced as her partner, and all three of us enjoyed each others company while the men in suits strutted around attempting to impress each other. I decided to take a chance. The back road would be slow but if they were home, then I was sure of a welcome and a nice coffee while the traffic cleared.

It took me some time to find my way but 30 minutes after leaving the motorway I was driving up the narrow farm road to their cottage. Just in front I spotted someone jogging. As a got closer I recognised the short dark hair of Ruth. Her grey crop top had perspiration patches down her back and, after I sounded my horn, I could see they the patch down the front or her top between her breasts. She beamed a smile and I ...

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