"I didn't mind. I'd left social suicide behind many miles ago."Yes, thanks," I said, "I'd love a ride."She smiled."I'm Veronica, by the way." Yeah, I ...now. I'm Amy." Well, Amy, let's go."We got into her car. It was big and rusty. At one point it had probably been olive green, but now was mostly just grey. It had a beige vinyl bench seat, with several strips of duct tape where I sat down.The air conditioner didn't work, of course."Sorry the car stinks," she said, "the window on your side doesn't. When her thighs flex again, I have to say something. "Are you ok?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her. "Yes, why?" she replies, leaning her head back on my arm. Because you look like you want to be fucked . "You just seem...fidgety," I say, and Chanel's pupils dilate by a fraction as she stares at me. The longer she says nothing, the more certain I become. She needs to get off...and I'm right here. I reach my hand up, cupping the side of her face, and lean carefully, turning my head to put my. More

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