We sit in silence as you drive. My hands are clasped together in my lap as I stare out through the windshield. I can see your hands, knuckles pronounced, on the steering wheel without turning my head. I swallow slowly.
The sky is heavy, the air warm and thick with suggestion. The car turns off the road onto an unsealed track, driving through the trees, their reflection gliding over the old red convertible. We come to a gradual stop, amongst the thick of the dark green pines. You turn the car off and we sit silently for a few moments. Suddenly I open the door and get out. Taking a couple of steps, I lean against the car, wrapping my arms around my waist, staring into distance: the pastel horizon moving as the ocean heaves up, over and over.
I feel something on my hair, and then again. I run my hand over my hair, trailing it down the back of my head, feeling liquid under my palm. Raindrops land on the back of my hand and I hear the echo of rain as it begins to fall around me, through the trees and on the car. With my eyes closed, I lean my head back and feel the droplets land on my face, splattering on impact.
I continue to stand outside, leaning against the car as the rain falls slowly, yet steadily. The water cooling my skin as it weighs down my sundress, moulding it against my form. The droplets slide down my face and under my chin, running down my neck. They soak into the top of my sundress, which is now clinging, outlining the shape of my breasts. My tongue darts out to taste and collect some of the rain on my lips.
I feel your fingers move the hair across the back of my neck, replacing it with your lips, pressing against my damp skin. You linger there until your lips move, parting on my neck. I feel the tip of your tongue, run slowly, languidly from side to side, between your lips.
I breathe in sharply as I feel my knees weaken, willing myself not to fall back against you. You move your attention behind my ear, brushing my lobe with your nose and your lips. Your teeth graze my skin as you flick my earlobe with your tongue. You run your tongue slowly up and down the edge of ear as my nipples tighten and I feel a stirring between my legs.
Placing your hands under my arms, your run them both slowly down my sides and over my hips, as far as the length of your arms go, your fingertips extending down the sides of my thighs. You stop, then ever so slowly, you gather up the sides of my sundress, moving your fingers alone, until the hem is bunched up under your hands and your fingertips are touching my skin.
You are still, the wet material gathered under your palms. Lazily you circle your fingertips on the skin of my thighs, barely touching, only the slightest contact, my skin prickling at the sensation. A weak groan escapes my lips before I can stifle it, and, in a swift movement you swing me around and lean me over the bonnet of the car, trapping one of your hands between my legs and between the side of the car, your other hand is on my left breast.
Despite your trapped hand you squeeze and rub me through the front of my dress, massaging and running your middle finger up and down my line while leaning yourself on me. I feel your hardness against my back. Your other hand rubs over my breast and hardened nipple, up and down, squeezing and cupping, catching my nipple between your fingers through my soaking sundress, as you nibble on my neck and along my shoulder.