home, her mind already on her special stash.
***
She was driving down the road with her music blaring when it happened, it, being that her car spluttered and produced foul smelling gas into the air, putting her Uncle Hubert to shame. Swearing loudly, she pulled to the side of the highway and ignored the cars that honked at her as she did so, giving them the finger from the safety of the inside of her car.
As she came to a full stop, she pressed her head against her steering wheel and started yelling, “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”
It was of course, the one day that she had not charged her cell phone; the one day that she had been in such a hurry that she had forgotten pretty much everything except for her wallet. She checked her watch. There was no way that she would make the concert now, even if a magical mechanic fairy appeared out of nowhere and fixed her engine.
Just in case, she waited for a moment and peered around hopefully. Nothing! A girl can dream, can’t I? she thought. Stranger things had happened, especially in her tiny Southern town.
As she got out of her car, resigned to her fate, she kicked the wheel and took in the rusted exterior. She half wanted to leave the damned thing there. It was the third time this week that it had broken, which was why she walked to work, even if it was a mile away. She chewed her bottom lip, wondering whether she was going to have to flag down a total creep, before she heard a vehicle come to a rest behind her.
It was a motorcycle, a big, masculine, powerful one, judging by the sound. Was this the moment that she was waiting for? The moment that she screams out to the world, “YES, I AM ACTUALLY A PERVERT OF EXTREME PROPORTIONS!” while raping her savior? Maybe, just maybe. She whipped around, a big smile on her face, when she was met with a very cynical stare, the same one that she had seen in the parking lot approximately five days ago, which had spurred on her new fetish of publicly embarrassing oral sex.
“It’s you,” said Lynette quietly.
“Yeah, well,” the biker man said, swinging his leg over the back of his motorcycle and approaching her and her car. “Don’t ask me why I stopped for you. Any person that touches another man’s Harley deserved some serious reprimanding.”
Lynette drew herself up to her full height, which at 5’3” was pathetic, and said, “Well, mister, maybe you should get over that, okay? It wasn’t like I was going to steal it.”
“Then what were you going to do with it?” asked the man, raising an eyebrow. It was so sexy that Lynette almost wet herself. Head out of the gutter, she thought, shutting her mouth hastily. Now is not the time to be doing this.
“I was... I’m in the market, that’s what,” Lynette lied. “I liked the model and wanted to know how it felt.”
I was really imagining the way that you felt, she thought. I wonder what he would say if I asked him if I could take his body for a test drive.
The man was smart and didn’t act as though he bought it. He said, “Well, if you’re driving this piece of junk, it’s no wonder you want something new.”
After that, he walked around her car and popped the hood of the engine before she could say another word. Maybe she should have been offended that he had taken such authority without asking, but honestly, she was just too grateful that he was helping her. She was a mechanical failure. The most that she knew about cars was stick the key in and twist. If it didn’t work then, the world was damned.
“Holy shit,” said the man, looking at her from a sea of black smog. “Why haven’t you taken this car in? If cars had beds, then this one would be on its deathbed, it needs serious help.”
Lynette sniffed. “I don’t make that much money at the diner. I’m trying to save as much as I can to move to the big city.”
The man snorted and muttered, “Baby, a girl like you wouldn’t last a
***
She was driving down the road with her music blaring when it happened, it, being that her car spluttered and produced foul smelling gas into the air, putting her Uncle Hubert to shame. Swearing loudly, she pulled to the side of the highway and ignored the cars that honked at her as she did so, giving them the finger from the safety of the inside of her car.
As she came to a full stop, she pressed her head against her steering wheel and started yelling, “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”
It was of course, the one day that she had not charged her cell phone; the one day that she had been in such a hurry that she had forgotten pretty much everything except for her wallet. She checked her watch. There was no way that she would make the concert now, even if a magical mechanic fairy appeared out of nowhere and fixed her engine.
Just in case, she waited for a moment and peered around hopefully. Nothing! A girl can dream, can’t I? she thought. Stranger things had happened, especially in her tiny Southern town.
As she got out of her car, resigned to her fate, she kicked the wheel and took in the rusted exterior. She half wanted to leave the damned thing there. It was the third time this week that it had broken, which was why she walked to work, even if it was a mile away. She chewed her bottom lip, wondering whether she was going to have to flag down a total creep, before she heard a vehicle come to a rest behind her.
It was a motorcycle, a big, masculine, powerful one, judging by the sound. Was this the moment that she was waiting for? The moment that she screams out to the world, “YES, I AM ACTUALLY A PERVERT OF EXTREME PROPORTIONS!” while raping her savior? Maybe, just maybe. She whipped around, a big smile on her face, when she was met with a very cynical stare, the same one that she had seen in the parking lot approximately five days ago, which had spurred on her new fetish of publicly embarrassing oral sex.
“It’s you,” said Lynette quietly.
“Yeah, well,” the biker man said, swinging his leg over the back of his motorcycle and approaching her and her car. “Don’t ask me why I stopped for you. Any person that touches another man’s Harley deserved some serious reprimanding.”
Lynette drew herself up to her full height, which at 5’3” was pathetic, and said, “Well, mister, maybe you should get over that, okay? It wasn’t like I was going to steal it.”
“Then what were you going to do with it?” asked the man, raising an eyebrow. It was so sexy that Lynette almost wet herself. Head out of the gutter, she thought, shutting her mouth hastily. Now is not the time to be doing this.
“I was... I’m in the market, that’s what,” Lynette lied. “I liked the model and wanted to know how it felt.”
I was really imagining the way that you felt, she thought. I wonder what he would say if I asked him if I could take his body for a test drive.
The man was smart and didn’t act as though he bought it. He said, “Well, if you’re driving this piece of junk, it’s no wonder you want something new.”
After that, he walked around her car and popped the hood of the engine before she could say another word. Maybe she should have been offended that he had taken such authority without asking, but honestly, she was just too grateful that he was helping her. She was a mechanical failure. The most that she knew about cars was stick the key in and twist. If it didn’t work then, the world was damned.
“Holy shit,” said the man, looking at her from a sea of black smog. “Why haven’t you taken this car in? If cars had beds, then this one would be on its deathbed, it needs serious help.”
Lynette sniffed. “I don’t make that much money at the diner. I’m trying to save as much as I can to move to the big city.”
The man snorted and muttered, “Baby, a girl like you wouldn’t last a
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