Mouthing along to Doechii’s “Catfish”, I smoothly shift gears as I pull in to the car wash to get the rental cleaned before returning it. My cheeks hurt from the wide smile that’s been fixed on my face for the past two hours. I drum along to the beat and glance at myself in the rearview mirror, still grinning.
“Hoorah”. Look at me. I’m awesome. Six-figure contract signed and sealed. My first six-figure contract! I feel good, I look good, I’m amazing. I’m on top!
Rolling up to the washing tunnel I spot a guy in a CozyWash uniform approaching—shirt snug across his chest. He leans down to the window with a polite, apologetic smile.
“Card reader’s down. Only cash payment possible at the moment. Might be fixed later today if you don’t have cash. Sorry for the trouble.”
I turn the volume down a notch.
“No worries. I should have enough cash. How much is it?”
Oohh la la. Nice lips. Sweet face. Real nice forearms, and beautiful hands, too—I wonder if he’s used them for more than just opening protein bars.
He gives me the rundown of the prices and programs—pre-wash options, care packages, the like. His eyes flicker down for a second. I’m pretty sure he just copped a peek at my cleavage.
My, oh my. Caught your interest? I can’t blame you, they do look great!
“Underbody care, huh?” I arch an eyebrow, tipping my body forward just enough to let my blouse shift to reveal a bit more. “Sounds exactly like what I need to cap off this fantastic day.”
He blinks. Again. I see him swallow, and I think his ears turn red.
Oh. My God. Cringe. Abort. My brain scrambles. Maybe I can simply close the window and drive away. What did I just say?
But then—his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but going there. Maybe I can salvage this.
“What’s the longest program you’ve got?” I ask, trying for casual.
“That’d be the intensive one. Should take about fifteen minutes. You can stay in the car while it’s being worked, or you go grab a coffee and I get it done for you.”
Fifteen minutes. That’s… not nothing.
I lean an elbow out of the window. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stay in the car.” I meet his gaze, then let mine slide down over him. “I wouldn’t mind some company, though.”
He stares. Like, deer-in-the-headlights stares. Puppybrain-does-not-compute kind of stare.
Where’s the Rewind-Button?
“I… you want me to—”
“I want you,” I say, voice low, I look intently at his crotch. And I might have nibbled on my lower lip just a little bit, for good measure. Subtle? Absolutely… not.
I withdraw my elbow. Eyes firmly fixed on his crotch I press the button to roll the window up. That’s a cinematic boss-move for the movies, right there.
For a long, heartbeat-drowning-out-all-sound-in-my-ears-moment, I am lost. I swear I could feel the heat rolling off him like waves off asphalt. And either it’s the music—or I can feel my own pulse trying to tear through my pants.
I return to reality, drive forward and roll the last few meters up to the tunnel.
As the light turns green, and the belt engages to move the car forward, the passenger door opens.
He slips in beside me, bringing with him a waft of sweat, soap, and something woodsy. He’s about as relaxed as a fencepost. I glance over.
Before anything else happens his eyes drift from my mouth down to my chest and linger. His palms press against his knees like he wants to do something, but doesn’t know what.
“So… Hi” he says awkward as hell, voice a little high. “I’m not sure how…”
“Hey.” I pull the key, ensure the handbrake is engaged, release my seatbelt and turn to face him.
“We’ve got fifteen minutes. Let’s figure it out.”
I lean over, hook a hand behind his neck, and kiss him. His lips are warm. A little dry, though that’s changing through my action. He returns the kiss, hesitant at first. But the moment my free hand wanders over his thigh and my fingers caress the growing bulge between his legs, he jolts forward as if shocked. His lips part open.
As if sparked to life by our touch, the car lurches. We are pulled into the tunnel’s waiting embrace. Water hits the windshield with a hiss. Brushes stir to life, whirring and swaying like they are cheering us on. A cascade of water of soap enveloping us, separating us from the outside.
Surprised by the sudden movement I catch myself on him, with one hand still hanging off his neck, the other braced squarely in his lap.
He gasps, eyes open wide.
“Oops.” I glance down at my hand, pressed firmly against his bulge. “Hope I didn’t break anything down there.”
He leans back slightly. He takes a moment. Then, glancing down, then up, then down again. Finally, he gives me a grinning smile. A playful gleam in his eyes.
“I doubt you could. But maybe you should check.” He subtly shifts forward, pressing himself harder into my palm. “You know, just to be sure.”
“No.” I say. “I don’t think I will.” My fingers trace idle patterns over the hard ridge beneath his pants. I give my words warmth and say them with a smile, to let him know that we’re still playing. “After all, I ordered the intensive care package, and I’m still waiting on that service. It’s on you to make sure your tool is still in working order.” I give him one more squeeze, then I fall back into my seat. Your time to move. Let’s see what those hands of yours can do.
He takes a second, or two. Whatever clever line he might have tried to come up with is scrambled by surging lust. He lunges, as much as you can in the confines of a car. Awkward, clumsy, but clearly enthusiastic. He goes straight for the boob that first caught his eyes. His fingers fumble, finding a way past the fabric of my blouse and of my bra. The other hand slides down my waist, exploring my curve as if he’s looking for grip.
He clamps his lips on mine, docking onto me with force that tells of his eagerness. His breath quickens. So does mine. I’m forced to share in the rhythm of his breathing, of his excitement.
I shift closer. Moving my head to the side a bit, I draw the flesh of my warm lips over his. So close that he will feel each syllable I murmur.
“I want you to undress me. One button at a time. I want you to look at me while you do it. I want you to admire what you uncover.”
He freezes, breathing ragged, his ministrations halt. But I don’t stop.
“Then I want you to put those big hands on my chest and really feel me. And when you’ve got a real good grip, I want you to slide one hand down. And down. And when you reach down there, when you feel my warmth and my wetness coat your fingers, then I want you to explore deep.”
I move my body against his still frozen hands, giving him the idea of how I will grind on his hand when he gets there. “Think you can deliver that kind of care package?”
Outside, foam slaps against the windows. The tunnel drums. The wet sounds providing a surprisingly fitting soundtrack to what’s happening in my pants. The rhythmic thumping on the outside mirroring the throb between my thighs. The air grows thick and sweet with desire.
He nods, hand trembling just a little as he reaches for the first still closed button on my blouse.
Careful. Deliberate. Like he’s afraid of tearing the fabric, he maneuvers the button free.
Cute.
By button number three he’s gotten bolder. While his eyes stay on target and never waver, he lets his knuckles brush against my skin.
I make a sound. A small one. Honest. A breathy little moan makes it past my lips. I don’t get to figure out if I’m embarrassed over that sound, because whatever his touch did for me, my moan does far more for him. The moment he hears that sound, he loses his restraint.
His mouth finds my neck. His hands roam free. He slides them under the fabric, fumbling for the bra strap. His palms race over me, like he wants to touch all of me at the same time.
He’s frantic now, but this is not getting me anywhere near fast enough.
A whining noise fills the interior. It might originate from the tunnel, but it’s giving voice to the urgent need I feel.
I clamp my hands over his and press them harder against my chest. I arch into the pressure. “That’s it. Just like that.” I squeeze my breasts through his hands. I moan. “Fuck, I’m so wet.”
That draws a groan from him. Without conscious thought my hands move. I feel him. His cock, stiff and straining, his excitement blazing through his pants, begging for release.
I reach under his shirt, working my fingers under his waistband. He sucks in his stomach to give me room, hips jerking to help me slide my hand in place. My fingers wrap around him. Hot, heavy, alive.
He gasps. His head falls back. I feel a pulse running through his cock. For a second I think he’s going to lose it right there in my hand.
“You okay?” I tease. “Did I break something earlier after all? I’m not sure, based on your reaction.” I enjoy this so much, and my tone betrays me. Teasing him. Getting this reaction from just touching his cock. I feel good.
“I’m…” he keeps his eyes closed, head still held back “Trying. Not. To explode.”
“That’s good.” I grin “We can’t have that…. yet. But you have to multitask. Your hands aren’t busy anymore.”
He takes the hint. Mirroring my earlier move he opens my pants just enough to slip one hand between my thighs. Like on a mission his fingers seek out the heat there. My gasp echoes his. Now he’s drawing patterns with his fingers. Circling. Testing. Waves of pleasure radiate whenever he does it just right. I bring my hands down on his wrist and hold it in place. I rock myself into his hand. Trying to find my rhythm.
But it’s too cramped. I can’t get the angle I need.
“Wait,” I pant. “I need to … reposition.”
I brace myself on my seat and start maneuvering, knees first, thigh twisting over the middle console, angling for his lap.
The horn blares.
We both freeze.
I snort. Loudly. Right into his chest.
And with that all the urgent need, the desperation, evaporates.
He laughs, too. A bit high and constrained at first, but then as he relaxes it turns deep and warm. I feel the laughter slowly ripple out from his chest. He holds firm onto my waist with one hand, giving me something to stabilize myself against. He slides his other hand along my side, but without urgency. He lingers, never loses contact. It’s a softer touch now.
I bury my face in his neck, with a small giggle I release the last of my tension.
“So…how does this rank for break-time activity?”
“Oh, I don’t know. “ I can hear the grin on his face as he responds “I’d say it has potential.”
I snort again.
A blaring chime cuts through the space. Loud and sudden. I bump my head against the roof and slap him in the face with my boobs.
We both go still.
“It’s the alert for the final rinse.” I hear him mumble from beneath me. I relax again and collapse against his shoulder. For a moment I enjoy the warmth shared between us.
“We’re almost out.” His words break the moment. The last remnants of the unspent energy evaporate.
“Tragedy,” I sigh dramatically, giving one last wiggle before I slowly climb off. The fabric of my blouse clings to my skin, my pants … let’s not talk about my pants.
He watches me as I shift back into my seat.
“Sorry.” I flash him a grin as I bring my boobs back into place “Time to button up.”
One button, then another. Slow. Deliberate. I can’t help it. He’s still staring.
He returns a sheepish grin and then we both fumble with buttons and zippers. No rush. No shame.
As the blower lifts for the final time, the car glides out of the tunnel.
“I’ll give you a four point five-star review,” I say, smoothing down my blouse. “Very hands-service. Though I had to give you thorough instructions first.”
“Glad to hear it.” He smirks back as he adjusts himself. “ Maybe you’d be up for a follow-up appointment?”
I lean in again. My hand moves over his thigh, my fingers find his bulge. Still there. Still hard. I give him a light squeeze, just enough to make his breath catch.
“I so would have loved to fuck you.” I whisper.
Then I kiss him. Passionately. Deep, messy, there’s nothing delicate about it.
When I pull back, he smiles like an idiot.
“Too bad. Don’t have the time for another go.” I add, and tap him on the nose.
The end-of-service light turns green, and I turn back on the motor. He climbs out of the car.
I roll forward and gently park the car near the edge of the lot. My heart’s still hammering. My pulse is still racing. I’m still buzzing.
I give myself another moment to reassemble myself. I tuck the blouse in place, and make sure I didn’t accidentally wedge a hair somewhere. I’m trying not to laugh at my own reflection, but I don’t stop the grin from forming.
A tap on the driver’s window startles me.
I roll it down halfway.
He’s there, flushed and out of breath.
Oh no. What now. Please don’t do or say something foolish now.
“You, uh…” He clears his throat. “You still need to pay.”
Oh. Right. The car wash.
A brief burst of laughter escapes me. I shake my head and fish out my wallet from the middle console. I withdraw a twenty and give it to him.
“Keep the change,” I say, handing it over with a smile.