I didn't notice the car pull up beside me at first. I was too busy juggling the flimsy grocery bags from hand to hand on the way back from the Campus Mini Mart. My arms were feeling like they were stretching a mile long, as I mumbled a string of swear words under my breath. But then I heard a hum, deep and smooth, that made me look up.
It was a car--sleek, polished, and black, catching the late afternoon sun on its glossy surface. Expensive. It moved toward me slowly, almost deliberately, then rolled past just as I thought I was imagining things. But then it stopped a few yards down the road and turned around. I could see the flash of its wheels as it glided in a U-turn, cutting across the narrow street, and pulling up just beside me.
The window slid down, and I found myself face-to-face with Simon. It took me a moment to click who he was. Simon - the old man at the Student Union Bar last weekend.
He was leaning over the passenger seat, one hand still on the wheel. His face, so much more defined in the daylight, looked different from what I remembered the night we 'met' in the loud and dark Student Union Bar. Without the flashing bar lights and noisy drunk students between us, I could really see him.
His face had the careful lines of someone who had smiled a lot but possibly not in a while, maybe he was missing me. Joke. His eyes were warm, a deep, unreadable grey, and there was this flicker of amusement as he looked at me, his mouth curling a smile that somehow made me feel shy to be honest. Shy and curious. A slight nervous tingle gave me a sudden shiver.
"Hello again," he said, his voice carrying that same calm confidence, like he was greeting an old friend. I suddenly became very aware again of how heavy my grocery bags were, how they were starting to dig into my palms, but I couldn't move. For a second, I felt completely still, like the whole street had paused just to watch us meet again.
"Hi, Simon," I managed, a little breathless. His name sounded different coming out of my mouth now, less casual and flippant and teasingly than when I'd said it that drunken night.
I glanced at him, trying to take in more than I had before. He was dressed impeccably in a dark suit that fit him so well it looked almost like a part of him. The white collar of his shirt, crisp and pressed, peeked out neatly under the knot of a navy blue tie. Even the mahogany trim inside the car caught the sunlight, glinting against the deep leather. The interior was filled with this warm, musky scent--clean but not too strong. Everything about him, about the car, seemed to belong to a different world than my grocery bags and scuffed-up ankle boots, my messy hair and my thrown-on summer dress.
Then, as he reached across to push open the door, his hand caught my eye. And that's when I noticed it. A glint of gold on his ring finger. A wedding band.
My heart seemed to miss a beat. How had I not seen it before? The bar had been weirdly lit, true, and we'd been too busy talking for me to notice anything like that. But here it was, shining plain as day, right in front of me.
Actually, now I think about it, why would it ever have even been on my radar that night, and if it had would I have cared? The free drinks and intense old-man cock teasing were far too much of a distraction for something as insignificant as him being a married man. And he had probably taken it off and hid it in his suit pocket that night. Hoping for student-girl action!
My gaze flickered from his hand to his face. He was still smiling, that same friendly look in his eyes, almost like he didn't know I'd noticed anything different. I could feel my cheeks flush, and I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because I'd been so caught up in the way he looked at me, the way he seemed so at ease pulling over to talk to me in broad daylight, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. For some reason, I glanced between his legs. That's not usually my style, honestly! I am not a girl on constant cock watch. Honestly! But I checked anyway. Nothing to see here. Yet.
"Need a lift?" he asked, his tone warm and casual, and it was as if nothing else mattered. The ring could have just been an accessory of course. But it wasn't, and I knew that, even if he didn't say it. Even though he didn't seem to remember he was wearing it.
I hesitated, my mind beginning to bounce between the memories of that night and the possibilities of this moment. Were the tingles and shivers and drippings of that drunken moment enough to scratch a question mark on my little panties for further exploration?
I tried to play it cool as I moved towards the back door of his car, feeling his gaze steady on me as if he were committing every step to memory. Every flow and movement of my little summer dress felt as if I was teasing him with my secrets and the appearance of every goose bump on my sensitive body parts felt like a clap of thunder across me. The car door opened with a gentle click, and I placed my grocery bags in the backseat, carefully, like they were fragile. But it was more than that. I knew he was watching--closely, intently. So I played the part in almost slow motion and then as I slipped into the passenger seat, I felt my cheeks flush with this warmth I couldn't shake.
His eyes didn't leave me, not for a second. I could feel them on me, lingering as I adjusted the hem of my dress. It was a light, summery one that I hadn't really thought about when I threw it on this morning, and my attempt to hide my bare soft smooth legs was hindered by the lack of material in the dress. I pulled it as far down as I could though it barely covered my inner thighs. But now, sitting there under his gaze, I felt how it brushed my young legs far above my knees.
His stare was unwavering, the kind of look that didn't hide anything, that didn't apologize. It was like he wanted me to know that he was taking in every small, self-conscious shift I made--the way I tucked my hair behind my ear, the slight way I turned in the seat to face him, how I straightened my dress with my hands and folded them in my lap. I felt completely... seen. Totally wide open for his viewing.
Simon's smile softened, and something in his eyes grew warmer like he was enjoying watching me without needing to say a word. I felt this fluttering mix of nerves and excitement. It was strange, being so close to him now, so different from that night. There was no noise, no distraction, just his steady, deep gaze and the silence of the car around us. And of course, on that night he was only an observer of me from behind. The occasional sideways glance and a couple of face-to-face moments. But my view from behind was his pleasure then. And only now could I imagine how much he must have explored me.
