Taking The Top Down

Inspired by a car commercial and an audience line from

Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Steven rapped crisply on Diedre's apartment door on the second floor over the local hardware store, his cock twitching in his trousers. This was their third date, and after reaching second base the last time, he had hopes of clearing the fences tonight.

Looking through the window at the end of the hallway, he could see the late summer sun shine warmly as it descended to the horizon. Steven was no slouch: he wasn't a body builder, but his frame was lean due to his indifference to food and alcohol; his sandy hair was short, his rugged face cleanly shaven, his tall frame dressed in a green polo shirt and dark slacks. He'd gotten his degree in English Literature, and was paying off student loans selling insurance in a small burg of 2000 living with his grandparents, writing novels, short stories and poems nights and weekends. His thirtieth birthday was behind him, and he'd just received his twenty fifth rejection letter for his literary output, which made an extended stay in Tiny Town a near certainty for the immediate future. The locals liked him in spite of his disdain of his work, and Deirdre had been eager to give him her phone number two weeks before at the only bar and grill in town.

It was three seconds after his knock the door opened to reveal Diedre. She was an attractive woman for the small town he found himself in: her brunette hair was done in an elaborate coif over her head, streaming down a long lock that curled around her throat. She wore a yellow top under an unbuttoned scarlet floral blouse, with a short dark skirt and sandals. The figure beneath the clothes were promising: two lovely dollops pushed her top out invitingly and provided a subtle glimpse of cleavage, highlighted by a gold necklace. Her legs were long and shapely, her ass nicely rounded, and her age probably near thirty. Her face was angular, but highlighted by bright blue eyes and delicious dimples. Deirdre worked as a bank teller at the town bank.

"Hello, babe," Steven drawled, "how's it going?" He leaned over and gave her a long lingering kiss that included a taste of her mouthwash.

She smiled with her eyes closed as she drifted away from their greeting. "Fine, sugar, just fine. Come in, come in."

The apartment was clean, neat, slightly worn and lived in: several rooms that took up half the footprint of the hardware store below. The furniture was nearing garage sale age, yet had a faded elegance that spoke of humble yet revered legacy. The carpet was less ragged than the hall outside, and flecks of cat hair witnessed a housemate that wisely hid from Steven during his previous visits.

Coming inside and closing the door, Steven initiated another long, lingering kiss which Dierdre responded to by pressing her entire body into his. Breaking, she purred with a twinkle in her eyes: "What do you wanna do tonight, sugar?"

"Oh, a little bite to eat, a ride around the county, and maybe we can take the top down later," he said, his eyebrows wiggling up and down electrically with original wit and building testosterone. His cock wiggled again, searching her clothed pelvis for the canyon of its aspiration.

She broke his embrace suddenly and turned her back on him, stepping away and taking several deep breaths. The wind left his sails in an instant, bewildered by her sudden rejection. His gaze probed the back of the brunette head trying to read her mind; they had gotten along well on their previous two dates, but nothing in their encounters forewarned him about this reaction. He'd gotten his hand inside her blouse and bra their last date in the back seat of his car, and thought his proposition would be favorably received. Unfortunately, she was framed by a huge, worn reproduction of the Last Supper, and it gave him no insights to her thinking.

"Look at this, Stevie baby, look at this," she said, spinning around, taking her index finger and running it around her face and head. "This is a package you found attractive. This is an investment you've expressed an interest in." Her blue eyes were steely and her brows knit under the perfectly sculpted hairdo and makeup. "I do not appreciate this suggestion that you'd like to ride around tonight with the top down; it is a lack of respect. This," she said, making the circle of her face and head once again, "is something not to be trifled with. If you only knew what it took to make this possible, the long hours of hard work to make this happen, you would think differently, buster. Mavis spent ninety minutes today putting this package together for you, full facial and perm. You do not waste an investment like this for an open air ride under the stars on a summer's evening and feel the wind"

He rolled his eyes as he turned to face the mirror on the wall behind him, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his right hand. His looked at himself in the mirror, shielded from her indignation. The eyes in the mirror held a exasperated look, visibly draining patience second by second. The urge to abandon the evening and his hopes hit him like a rabbit spotting a coyote on a nearby hilltop. It took fifteen excruciating seconds for him to summon up the courage to turn and face her again.

Her face was still locked in full pout, her eyes boring into his with steely determination. "Tell me that you're not going to mess this carefully prepared package up by riding around in your convertible with the top down," she demanded, her face screwed up in a rictus of indignation, hands on hips and a perfectly pedicured foot with bright red nails tapping impatiently.

Walking crisply behind her, he reached over shoulders and dove into her cleavage. Fortunately she was wearing a front clasp bra, so he was able to undo it and rip off all her clothing from above her waist in a single motion without disturbing anything from the neck up. Her pert breasts bounced twice when they were released, standing out proudly with light pink nipples that made his mouth water. He tossed the ruined clothing aside casually.

She was stunned by her sudden forcible disrobement, her jaw dropped as her nipples erected in the air conditioning. Reaching under her breasts, he cupped them and toyed with them, holding them out and savoring their velvety plushness. He grasped her tightly as he looked at her in the huge mirror on the wall. Her face was a scene of confusion and bewilderment as they regarded her sudden plight.

"Look baby, I don't have a convertible, remember, I drive a Camry," he hissed in her ear. "This is what I meant by taking the top down, not messing up your wonderful, world class hairdo in the wind. Your tits have been talking to me since your wore that skimpy halter top that night at Marvin's Bar and Grill." His hands roamed around her white breasts, making her swoon with joy at his touch. "You want a ride or what?"

Her face took on a hungry gaze, and she ground her apple round asscheeks into his pelvis. "Oh baby, I'd hoped you'd come around sooner or later," she cooed softly. "Yes, yes, yes, and we don't even need to go out tonight." Her body turned, her mouth met his, and her tongue impaled his tonsils until he though he would pass out from lack of oxygen. Dancing eyes full of anticipation met his as they broke their kiss, and she purred: "You can fuck with my body and you can fuck with my mind, but don't you ever, EVER, fuck with my hair."