(Once again, not all the tags apply to this chapter. But even if you ain't seen 'em yet ... they'll be here. All characters who are actually having sex are over eighteen. This chapter is a touch shorter than the last, but it's got more nasty stuff per cubic inch.)
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The Miata was incredible; it ate up the road like a hungry tiger and went exactly where I pointed it. On the way to the arena, I took the opportunity to blow off a couple of 'Vettes and a Porsche at stoplights. It was wonderful watching their drivers' expressions in the rearview as the Miata pulled away...
"Having fun?" Frank growled from the passenger seat.
"Well, yes," I admitted.
Frank scowled; reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out a miniature pack of unfiltered Chesterfields and lit one. Then he climbed up the shoulder belt to the top of the seatback so he could see out.
"Okay," he said. "First groupie lesson -- parking the car."
"What does parking the car have to do with being a groupie?"
"Practise," he said, with an evil grin that looked positively Satanic on that face with that beard nose and eyebrows. "Turn in there."
I looked; the parking lot he was pointing to was one of the close-in ones at the OmniTheatre, and "Event Parking", according to the sign, was fifteen dollars.
"No way," I said. "There are cheaper lots and there are even safe places to park on the street down here."
"Yup. But you aren't gonna pay fifteen dollars for parking. You aren't gonna pay at all. Well, not money, anyway."
"What do you mean?" I asked, though I suspected I knew... and the thought gave me sort of a warm feeling Down There.
I pulled into the lot, and there was a vacant parking space right behind the attendant's shack -- close to the gate, but out of sight of the street. I parked the car, looked up, and saw the attendant approaching. For just a minute I was worried -- I knew him! He was in my English class! In fact, because he was the class geek and I was the class titless wonder, we'd both felt excluded enough a lot of the time that we'd sort of become friends. "He's going to know me!" I breathed in panic.
"Know you? What the hell -- did FG make those oversized tits out of part of your brain? Would you know you if you saw yourself and didn't know you were you?"
"Uhhh... well..."
"Okay -- First Groupie Lesson -- 'Strategic Flashing'. Wait to get out till he's almost here, and then make sure he gets an eyeful as you swing your legs out..."
"Oh -- sure!" I said with a giggle. "Poor Dexter; he's liable to faint if I show him too much..."
"Don't worry about that."
I looked in the mirror; Dexter was coming up to the car, parking ticket in hand. He hadn't really noticed me in the car, he was just doing his job.
Timing it carefully, I flipped open the door, and swung around to get out of the car. As I did, my miniskirt (micro, let's be honest) slipped up until it was more like a wide belt. Not only did it show every inch of my legs up to the tops of my sleek sheer stockings, it showed my garter belt and... well, let's say that I'm pretty sure that Dex had no trouble reading the descriptive text on the front of my thong, as bad as his eyes were.
"Now lean forward as you get out..." FZ hissed. I did, and the old t-shirt I wore was loose enough and the cutout neck opening was large enough that I was wondering if one of my boobs was about to pop out right between Fred and Paul's pictures on the shirt.
Looking up at Dexter, I was amazed; he was standing there, white as a sheet, eyes huge behind his thick glasses. He was actually sweating. Most of the parking tickets he'd been holding were fluttering to the ground, except for the ones crushed in his shaking hand. "Look down" Frank hissed. I did, and I was amazed -- Dexter had a sudden raging hardon; it must have popped up suddenly in response to... err... something he saw. With a sudden evil glee and an even hotter tingle in my pussy, I asked myself if I had any idea what could possibly have caused that... I thought I did.
"Okay -- here's the deal," Frank hissed. "You don't have any money, you need to park, and wouldn't he be a sweetie and sort of look the other way."
"And...?"
"And make him feel good. Looking at this geek, I'd bet he never even saw a real naked girl, and I'm certain he's never touched one. With one hand you can get him to do anything you want..."
I thought about what he'd said, and then I got it. Grinning wickedly to myself, I walked up to my sweating classmate, letting my hips roll even more than FG's modifications made them roll naturally. Stopping when I could tell that I was about an inch closer than he really felt comfortable with me being, I licked my lips (those wide slutty harlot red lips) with barely the tip of what I knew was now a small, pink and very pointy tongue, batted my eyelashes, and ran one hand down my hip to smooth the skirt (which, of course, led his eyes downward and reminded him of what he'd just seen) and asked "Hey, Sweetie, is it okay if I park it there?" I was amazed at the tone and effect of my new voice -- you almost felt as if guys could fuck that voice all by itself and get off.
"Ummm, sure, ummm, ma'am..." he stammered, eyes rolling as he looked for an escape route. He backed up to preserve his personal space, and I stepped right into it again.
"How much for parking?" I asked.
"Fif... fifteen dollars," he managed to get out.