I’m looking at him. A big ex-jock of a guy. Deep chest, big round biceps. Dark hair that’s arranged in waves around his ears. Strands of gra...

His neighborhood is dark—almost pitch black, in fact. The closest streetlight was at the intersection where I’d turned my car behind his, a ...

There are slow or even tragic evenings at the park-and-ride lot. Then there are Monday nights like this one, when I pull with a sharp right ...

Guys are always asking me in email or on an instant messenger about the park-and-ride lot I visit. They picture it as basically a roadside o...

When I pull into the park-and-ride lot, it’s nearly full with cars idling, headlights on. Most of the cars are mini-vans, or foreign-made SU...

It only takes one word to change the situation from good to bad. I’m lifting up my pelvis, pulling down my shorts, when the man in the drive...

When he pulls his car next to mine—and I’d known he was going to pull his car next to mine—he noses it into the parking space an inch at a t...