Your car pulls up outside my work. I can feel the eyes of the men who would be my customers eye up my legs, my short skirt, convincing themselves that they are merely attempting to decipher the squirl of colour that is my tattoo, partially hidden by the red silk top of my hold-up. I open the door, it creaks and the scent of some cheap after-shave washes over me at the same time the music drops and the bass shakes the door beneath my hand. I bend slightly to look at you, knowing my skirt has ridden even higher on my behind.
"You took your time." I say with a smile.
"It'll be worth the wait." You drawl, that sheer confidence instantly making my knees tremble. I turn and demurely plant my backside in the passenger seat, noticing an older man staring at me while his wife attempts to control their squabbling kids. I push my boobs together and pout, putting my legs into the car one after the other, giving him an almost-clear view up my tantalising skirt. The ice cream drops from the cone in his hand and I roll down the window to wave and blow a kiss as you rev the engine out of the car park.
"You're terrible, y'know?" You change gear as we pull out, heading towards the countryside. It's still bright, sundown isn't for another couple hours, and neither of us are expected home any time soon. I pout again as your hand moves from the gear stick to my knee, tracing minuscule circles on the inside of my leg. "What if that family comes back tomorrow and recognises you in work? You'll get into trouble."
"I'll wear my hair up, and my glasses, and that dumpy uniform will disguise me. They won't know." The fingers move upward.
"Hm, we shall see. You still aren't the most lady-like of females, taunting that old man with your youthful feminine wiles." Your finger strokes upward, meeting the skin above my hold-up, and tracing back down when you hear my gasp at the contact with my bare skin. Your concentration hasn't gone from the road as you whisk us round corners away from civilisation.
"I was as demure and lady-like as possible. Besides, he wasn't an old man, he was in his mid-thirties at most." You trace over the top of my hold-up, where the elastic bites into my skin. As you get closer to the inside of my thighs I shift slightly allowing greater access, but you just circle leisurely on a spot which is as frustratingly close as it is far.
"Hm, and dead to the world with those two children and that wife. God forbid I'm ever like that." Your hand leaves my leg to turn the music up a bit. Soon the beat of your heavy metal music throbs through me, making my chest rattle in time, vibrating the chair beneath me. Your touches have already turned me on, and seemingly unconsciously you've made the music do the rest. It's not long before I'm gripping the seat and tightening my thighs together, trying not to give it away. You notice my fluttering lashes and deep breaths, and flash a concerned look my way. "You alright, babe?" Your hand returns to my knee, this time more firmly, meant to be comforting, but the contact makes me gasp. You look even more worried now.