Cheryl lets the wheel glide through her hands as she pulls off the road and into the service station.
Guiding the heavy nozzle into the hole, she squeezes the handle and listens as the pump churns into life, spilling gas into the tank. Looking past the pump, she sees a man standing at the checkout chatting with the cashier. She pulls a pair of sunglasses from the pocket of the tight pink blouse she is wearing, slips them on and pretends not to notice. Shaking the final drop from the tip, she replaces the nozzle.
"That'll be twenty dollars please," the cashier says, hand outstretched. "I-I think I left my purse in the car." Cheryl says, reaching deep in her handbag, "will you excuse me a minute?"
It's a short trip, but Cheryl is quickly out of earshot. "I could really go for that," says the cashier to the man standing with him at the cash desk, "what about you Ted, fancy a bit of that lovely round ass?"
"Are you kidding Carl? I could definitely give her something to stick between those tits. Did you see the way they bounce under that blouse?"
"Yeah, yeah. Tits are nice but give me a nice tight ass in a short skirt any day."
The men gawk as Cheryl reaches her car.
"Look at that!" Carl says, gesturing toward Cheryl's prime, round rump, "I swear she does that on purpose."
"On purpose? You mean she's wiggling her ass like that to get us going?" Ted asks.
"Better believe it. I bet she's loving every minute of it too, showing off like that."
Cheryl opens the glove box and takes out her purse. "Uh, oh, she's got it," Ted says, "mind what you say, she's coming back."
The doors slide apart and Cheryl steps up to the cash desk once more. "Twenty dollars did you say?" Cheryl asks, handing her card to Carl.
"That's right, twenty bucks Miss."
She signs the receipt and shoves the card back in her purse. Smiling politely, she throws the strap of her handbag over shoulder and turns to leave.
"And by the way, it's Mrs. not Miss," she says in a curt tone, "Mrs. Decker."
"So sorry Mrs. Decker. I shouldn't have assumed."
"That's okay. Carl" she says, glancing at his name badge. "Do you have a restroom I could use Carl? I've a long way to go and don't want to make too many stops."
Carl points past the magazine rack, "It's just through there," he says waiting until she is once again out of earshot before adding sarcastically, "Mrs. Decker!"
"She sure told you!" Ted laughs. "Tell you what it is mate, it was all I could do to hold my laugh in. She stood there telling you off like she was your mother or something and you shittin' yourself and saying sorry!"
"I was not shittin' myself," he says, throwing a punch at his friends arm and making him recoil in pain. "She's a customer and I have to be all nice and stuff. It's part of the job!"
"She still had you though, didn't she!"
Carl's face turns from a sulk to a grin as he races for the lock on the door to the shop.
"Tell you what," he says, flicking at Ted's arm, "Miss or no Miss, come with me, I got something to show you."
The two men tip-toe past the bathroom to a door with a sign saying STAFF ONLY, DO NOT ENTER! Once inside, Carl lifts three boxes stacked against one of the walls and hands them to Ted.
"She's so fucking clever, bet she doesn't know about this."
Ted's jaw drops in surprise when he sees what is behind the last box. "Shit!" Ted says, stifling his surprise, "you've drilled a fucking hole in the wall to the bathroom!"
"No I didn't," he says crouching to bring his eye level with the hole, "it was already here when I started. I found it by accident."
"What can you see?"
"Dunno, it's difficult to make out," Carl replies in a hushed voice.
"Has she got her skirt up, can you see her pissing?"
"Will you be quiet you stupid fuck, she'll hear!"
The room is dark and quiet. Ted pulls at his friends shoulder.
"Let me have a look!"
"Fuck off, it's my hole," he says, frowning at how immature his last remark had sounded.
"Come on," Ted insists, "just for a second, I promise."
Carl gets up and lets his friend take his place.
"Look! She's got her panties down around her knees!"
"Will you be quiet!" Carl says, pulling Ted away, "I told you, she'll hear us!"
Carl lowers to peer through the spy hole.
"She must have moved, I can't see a thing," he says, bolting away from the hole and grabbing the boxes placed out of the way. With the last box put back, he turns to the door, pulling his friend out with him.
"And what were you two doing?" Cheryl bellows, beating them out of the restroom and into the corridor.
Carl sees the look in her eyes, turns to his friend and swallows.
Cheryl screams as Carl lunges the distance between them and clamps his hand over her mouth. The bare brickwork is rough against Cheryl's back as she is shoved hard up against the wall of the corridor.
"Now you just listen lady, what we were doing is no business of yours," Carl says, his face an inch from hers. "I'm going to take my hand away and you aren't going to scream! Get it?"
A moment passes as Carl waits for a sign of her compliance. Slowly he releases his grip over the Cheryl's mouth. She jumps towards the door.
"Oh no you don't!" Carl cries, lunging after her before she has the chance to reach the door.
"Let me go!" she cries, falling to the floor.
"I told you not to panic," Carl says, reaching out to cushion his fall and landing on top of her. And there they lie. In silence. The clock ticks on the wall above them. No one speaks. No one makes a sound.
Carl slowly pushes his weight from the floor, releasing Cheryl and allowing her to pick herself up.
"This is getting out of hand." Ted says sheepishly.
Carl looks down at the woman on the floor of the corridor. The same woman they were spying on, the woman he had forced up against a wall and then knocked to the floor when she had tried to escape. He runs his fingers through his dark brown hair, worriedly wrings his hands and opens his mouth to say words, which do not come.
Falling to his knees beside Cheryl, he reaches out as if to comfort her. "Look, I'm sorry," he says. "It's just that you screamed and then you ran and I had to... can't you see?"
Cheryl lies motionless, eyes closed.
And then she moves. Just her right hand. Nothing more. She brings it around and places it beside her thigh. Carl watches as she hooks two painted fingernails under the hem of her skirt and gathers a handful of material.
Cheryl brings her left hand around.
Carl looks at the woman on the service station floor pulling the back of her skirt, exposing more and more of her thighs to his gaze. Little more than a glimpse of her panties are showing as she raises her hips ever so slightly to pull her skirt the remainder of the way until it lies bunched around her waist. Carl gulps.
"Pull my pantyhose down," Cheryl says quietly.
