Please enjoy this new short story. It is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. All characters are adults, eighteen or older, and unusually horny
.βTaylor VanCannon.
Fred wheeled the big SUV into the carwash. The place was a little tacky, and well past its prime. The same could be said of the attendant that approached his car.
In a pleasing southern drawl, she asked, "What'll be Darlin'?"
"Just an exterior wash. Nothing extra."
"Honey, you want our Express Wash. It'll be $8."
He handed her a ten dollar bill. "Keep the change."
"Thanks sweetie, just let me get your receipt and we'll get you nice and clean."
She opened the door and handed him the receipt. "I'll take it from here, dear. Just leave the keys in the car." She waited for him to get out.
"Listen," he said, "do you mind if I drive it myself. I like to keep an eye on my car."
She stepped back and smiled at him. It was late in the day, and the last thing she needed was some asshole telling her how to do her job. "I'm sorry, sir, but our insurance doesn't allow any customers inside the carwash." It was a lie, but it usually worked.
He returned her smile. "I understand, and if you want me to sign a waiver, I'll be happy to."
"Listen pal," she said, dropping the southern drawl. "This ain't exactly my dream job, so don't fuck with me. Especially not today."
Undeterred, he said, "I don't mean to be a bother. Can't we work something out? I'll double the tip."
There were two cars in line behind him, and she needed to get things moving again. "Fine, but just do what I tell you to." She walked around and got into the passenger seat. "Pull up, and drive around the vacuum station, you didn't pay for that."
He did as she asked and drove around to the back of the building. There were two cars waiting to go into the carwash.
"Sorry we got off on the wrong foot. My name's Fred." He extended a hand to her.
"Charlene." She took his hand, warmly touching it with her fingers. The southern drawl was back.
"You look a little frazzled," he said. "Tough day?"
She stared at him, trying to decide how to respond. It was none of his fucking business. She ignored his question and asked her own. "Are you retired?"
Fred laughed, "Do I look that old?"
She smiled. "Not old, just retired. And yeah, this has been one fucked up day."
"Sorry," he said, "anything I can do to help?"
Without thinking, she said, "Not unless you've got $500 to spare. My landlord is all over my ass for back rent, and he's calling me every hour, threatening eviction."
Fred gave her a sympathetic smile. Her face looked weathered, with at least one wrinkle for each of her forty years. Her scraggly blonde hair was pulled back into a poorly tied pony tail. The loose fitting khaki work pants were stained, and did a good job hiding whatever figure she had left. Same thing for her bright green shirt, emblazoned with the carwash logo. She was a touch on the heavy side, with big tits and a big ass. All in all, nicely proportioned.
"Maybe I can brighten your day." He pulled five crisp one hundred dollar bills from his wallet and laid them on the center console.
She looked at the money, then back up at him. "Hey, I was just kidding... I mean about sparing the money. You rich or something?"