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She swung open the door and got inside. I lowered the air conditioning and wrapped the towel around her shoulders.
“I’d offer you my shirt again, but you look like you would need my whole outfit.” I paused, smirking. “I mean, I’ll take my pants off if you want me to.”
She ignored my comment and squeezed the water out of her hair with the towel. “Thank you so much for the ride. Where were you headed?”
“Nowhere. I saw you walking past the shop and figured you could use a lift.”
“Oh.” She looked surprised. People were always surprised when I did something nice. I guess it didn’t happen very often. “I’m sorry you had to leave work just for me.”
“I’m not.” Her wet top, yet again, clung to her tits, and I wanted to peel it off her. It took all the restraint I had not to. She wasn’t the kind of girl who got fucked in a car. Think about something else before you pitch a damn tent in your pants and embarrass yourself. Car. Tree. Tits. Fuck.
“Where to?”
“My apartment is down Rossville.”
“Do you have anything going on right now, or can we make a pit stop?”
“No, please. You’re doing me the favor, so I’ll go wherever you need to go.”
Turning down a side street, I pulled the car over and unclipped my seat belt. “Switch seats with me.”
“What?”
“I’m going to slide over into your seat. I want you to sit here.”
“No way. I know what you’re doing. I can’t drive this thing.”
“Yes, you can. Just switch.” Without waiting for her to move or respond, I climbed into her seat.
“Ow!” She grunted as she tried to climb over my legs. “You’re too big to do this.”
“Yeah, I hear that a lot.” I chuckled to myself.
“You’re an idiot.”
“I hear that a lot, too.”
“I can see why.”
I didn’t want to be a dick, but I enjoyed irritating her.
She sank into the driver’s seat and helped me swing my legs onto the passenger side of the car. She had to pull my seat all the way forward to reach the pedals. Damn. She looks good in my Mustang.
“All right. The most important thing you need to remember is: If you crash my car, I will have to kill you.”
Her eyes widened, and I smirked. “Kidding. Well, sort of.”
“We shouldn’t be using your car. I don’t think I’ll be very good at this.”
“You’ll be fine. Trust me. You’ve had sex before, right?”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Think of it this way: Driving a stick is like having sex. You have to know your car very well—how it works, what it needs from you, what each noise means. You can’t force it. You have to use your whole body and mind to get the vehicle to do what you want it to do.”
Her lips parted slightly and then she shook her head. “So, what do I do first?”
“These are your gears. Whenever you want to change a gear, you have to use the clutch.” I reached over and pointed to the pedal on the left. “You have to use your left foot to operate the clutch.”
