The Red Sports Car

Let me start by assuring you that I'm neither rash, nor prone to acting without forethought. My name is Emma Thornton, I'm thirty-seven, with two kids in their mid-teens and a career in commercial property brokerage. My old man couldn't cope with the stresses that having a young and growing family inevitably brought, and headed out for easier grazing in newer pastures. We haven't seen or heard anything from him ever since he left.

It took a year to stop falling further behind and nearly eighteen months for me to stop blaming everything and everybody else for the predicament in which I found myself. For the last fourteen years, as a result of hard work and astute judgement, things have improved each and every year. We've reached 'comfortable' now, with an old brick property that we've renovated and extended ourselves. The rest of the county seems to have come round to our way of thinking and these days this is a very popular place to live, so I'm paying a mortgage on it that's less than six percent of its value.

The kids have learned to ski and Genie, my youngest, keeps a pony in the paddocks that are between the house and the road. Last year Kira, ever the tomboy, decided to save up what she earned at her gardening jobs so that she could purchase an off road motorbike, which she takes for long rides through the wilderness of the huge mountainous national park which adjoins the edge of our property.

Mostly I just make sure that there are adequate supplies in the house and they just get on with their lives. Don't get me wrong, we all spend time together and get on as well as any family I've ever come across; it's just that we're all busy and happy in the independence within the interdependence that we have. My girls and me... we're good friends.

Sometimes my work makes me suffer long hours; occasionally I have to meet clients who've travelled after hours. I'm a great salesperson and it's because I've done the hard graft that over the years I've worked my way up to the position of senior partner in the business.

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Manchu Industries need a continental headquarters and this evening I'm meeting with their Director of Expansion to discuss the possibility of his corporation taking the entire development that our company is building an hour and a half over the state border from the new international airport. We have a lot going for us, not the least of which is much cheaper rates than they would get if they located in one of the cities which were trying to attract such a prestigious name. We have better housing and transport than any big city and I'm going to show him that just living somewhere as beautiful as we do makes for better working conditions than any city could ever offer.

The site nestles just off the interstate with forest-covered mountains offering a fantastic frame to the offices where we will meet; there are two staff members waiting with me, Steve Hunter runs the legal and contracts side of the organisation and Mandy Ewing manages the office staff back in town.

There are eight tables set up, each with a scale model of another of our interpretations of their specifications. If any of them are taken up our company will profit by many millions.

He's late; I walk over to the air conditioning controls, and it surprises me to find that they're not set very high; I'm sweating because the wait is getting to me. I pick up my bag from the floor by the small conference table set just beyond the models and decide to freshen up in the ladies room at the end of the corridor.

If the office felt hot then the chill from the ladies room almost makes me stagger; immediately the sweat is gone. I rinse my hands quickly at the sink; checking while I do that my makeup is fine and needs no improvement. I spray a quick shot of breath freshener into my mouth and examine myself in the long mirror on the back of the door. I'm wearing a matching calf-length blue pinstripe skirt and conservative jacket over dark hose and shining black pumps.

For just a second, as I look, my mind wanders as a shiver of loneliness bids me to ask myself why it was that I was feeling so lonely lately, and what was so wrong with the way that I looked that it was more than a decade since the last man had made a pass at me.

I shrug my shoulders and push such thoughts to the back of my mind as I head back along the corridor to the office; I'm just in time.

If you had asked me how he'd be arriving, I would have said in a limousine with a driver who would be wearing a uniform and cap.

The windows at the front shake at the bark from the car which arrives at some speed in front of the building. It's an angry red streak and then, in an instant, it's stopped. Darkened windows hide the driver as it pulls alongside my Mercedes. Next to the Merc I can see how low slung it is. It makes my beautiful silver saloon car look like a clumsy off roader; you'd be forgiven for expecting to find a gun rack in the back and some baling twine in the glove box.

There doesn't seem to be a straight line involved anywhere in its gorgeous design - it's curvy and sensuous, made to a European ethos a zillion light-years from the macho brutality of American sports cars, made to insinuate itself between the molecules of air - not to smash them out of its way.

I'm so jealous that I throw myself a one liner to cheer my spirits. "But I bet he's only got a small dick."

Mandy and Steve laugh politely until the door of the car opens and she steps out.

She's wearing tight black leather driving gloves, a black flared trouser suit above slim super-shiny unadorned slip-ons with two inch squared heels. Her skin has a definite, if light, Asiatic hue to it, but the shade screams falsehood at the viewer because of the shocking white-blonde short spiky hair that tops her head. Her eyes are covered at first by large round sunglasses in black frames. She removes the shades and looks directly along the mirrored windows, before walking assuredly towards the entrance.

I was all thumbs for the entire meeting, but it didn't matter, the decision had already been made in China. She seemed about to hold out for a better deal on prices, but changed her mind after a short walk around the prepared ground. Two and a half hours later she informed us that she was satisfied and that Manchu were willing to head with purpose towards contracts and told Steve that his counterpart at her company would contact him by lunchtime the next day.

As the meeting was drawn to a close I asked if she'd like dinner or if she was heading back to the big city. She told me that she had the last two days of the week and the weekend to compile a report for the boards' perusal on an expected schedule for the eventual opening of the Manchu facility here. She told me that she was booked into a hotel inside the national park and that she was heading that way.

We were standing at the back of the offices looking at the wispy clouds gathering in the last of the evening sun; in early summer around here the sunset doesn't happen until way after ten, but we were heading up to that time. Mandy and Steve made their exit with quiet goodbyes; Steve reminded me that a cleanup crew were due inside fifteen minutes and that they would lockup afterwards.

"My name is Mitsui; it is alright in American business for us to become less formal after work?"

"Oh, yes... please call me Emma. Would you let my company treat you to dinner here before you head off to your hotel?"

"How about if we share the bill and go as friends - not as anything to do with business? But before we go anywhere I've been wearing these all day and I need to change into some more comfortable clothes. I could do it in the bathrooms here, I suppose?"

"There's no need, my house is ten minutes away and I could get changed too, you could follow me in your beautiful car."

"Would you like to ride in it? I could bring you back here for yours after the meal, if you'd like?"

How could I refuse? It was so low slung that I had to slide in rather than climb. She reached over to show me how to work the two seat belts which met in an 'x' at my bellybutton; she smelled of apples. The seat felt moulded to the contours of my body, and from inside the windows didn't look darkened at all.

I was going to tell her of my daughters and the situation at home while in the car, but found that I wasn't initially capable of speech when I felt myself pushed gently but firmly back into the seat as we pulled away. I pointed out directions rather than trying to raise my voice over the noise of the engine, which seemed to be directly behind our heads.

I watched her gloved hand as she worked the stick shift between us; she seemed so poised, easily in charge of this insane four-wheeled beast. It took less than five minutes to do the journey and as she switched off the engine outside the house it took me a few moments to gather myself. Nothing ... nothing had ever felt like that before.

There were no lights on in the house but there were notes from both girls reminding me that they'd both be staying with study friends in preparation for exams the next day. I remembered that I had noticed something about the tests on the family organizer when I'd jotted down that I'd be late that day.

I showed Mitsui to the guest room and we both went off to change. I decided that I had time for a quick shower. The cares of the day were stripped from me along with the dust and I was feeling more than just refreshed as I dried my hair. As I was choosing between outfits, wearing just a slip and pantyhose, she knocked on the door. Before I had a chance to answer she pushed down on the handle and walked in, naked. I couldn't help but stare; I'd never seen an Oriental, of either sex, without clothes on. There wasn't a single hair anywhere on her body below the shock of bleached blond on her head; her skin was blemish free, toned to perfection, wrapped over muscles and bones - everything in perfect proportion to everything else. I wanted to hide myself, immediately feeling cumbersome and ugly... a mountain mare next to a Lipizzaner.

"Do you have some moisturiser or body spray that I could borrow? I've just remembered that I should have bought some as I came through the duty free shops," she said, "and if I don't use lots when I'm travelling by air or spending too much time anywhere that is air-conditioned my skin dries so that I start to look like a yellowed walnut."

"Sure..." I murmured.

It took an effort to drag my eyes from her as I walked across the room to where my make-up sat on the dressing table. I didn't recognize what I was feeling ... it had been such a long time, and I must have been befuddled by the combination of everything that had happened since Mitsui had first come into sight in that red sports car.

She thanked me before turning and leaving my bedroom. For a second or two I thought that the sticky stream which had passed through the sheerness of my gusset and was beginning to run down the inside of each of my thighs meant that for some reason I had lost control of my bladder. I was so confused within myself that I had to sit on the bed, realizing that it wasn't urine - I was as turned on as I could ever remember, and nothing overtly sexual or even sensual had happened.

I thrust the jumbled thoughts clogging my mind to the 'leave this until later' zone and I hurriedly dressed, trying not to keep Matsui waiting. A little make-up - it seemed pointless trying to compete, and I was done. She was drinking a glass of water in the kitchen as I loaded a tiny purse for the evening. I noticed that the kitchen clock was reading nine fifteen.

"We should probably make a start."

She put the glass down and turned. "Let's do it then... do you want to drive us there? It'll save you having to try and talk over the engine noise."

I wasn't thinking that it had been more than a decade since I'd driven a stick, or that the blood-red beast under offer was probably more powerful than all of the cars I'd ever driven in my entire life; I don't think that I actually had a coherent thought.

"You'd let me drive? Oh boy, oh boy! Let's party!"

The key didn't fit into the steering column or the dashboard; it wasn't even shaped like a key! A bar with indentations wrapped in a spiral pattern that slotted into a space alongside the stick shift sparked the console into life, then a button adjacent to it brought forth the sharp bark as its engine ruptured the air with its call before dying back to a more throaty rumble.

Even as I selected a gear I could feel that the fresh knickers, which had replaced the soaked pair a few minutes before, immediately lost the battle to keep the flood gushing from my pussy. The thought flashed across my synapses that maybe it would seep through my dress as well and stain the dark calfskin seat.

We pulled away and suddenly I was empowered, the throttle responding with more... something - just more than it seemed that I could ever need. There was no screeching of tires as it took corners, just the feel that the further I pushed it, the more it would stick to the road. Every curve and every length of straight road - stretches that I had known all of my life, were now a new adventure. Far too soon we were turning every head in the restaurant as we pulled up outside. The valet thought that he'd died and gone to heaven as Matsui handed him the keys.

"Take good care of our baby while we eat, please."

We took a table in its own alcove and ordered soft drinks; we hadn't spoken about who was going to drive after the meal, and I for one could never disrespect the immense power of the car by trying its patience while I was under the influence of alcohol. I knew that it could kill us both with my first mistake.

We ordered our food from the waiter who delivered our drinks; she sipped hers for a few seconds, as if in ponderance, before quietly speaking.

"I want to make you come on my fingers, and on my tongue. I can smell how turned on you are and couldn't help but notice the wet patch you left on the car seat. I need to have you; I can hardly restrain myself from reaching out and touching you as we are sitting here. Will you join me in my hotel for the night? Or perhaps, if I beg, you'd stay the whole weekend?"

I can't tell you whether the food was good or bad; I ate in a daze of mechanical actions. I hadn't dared reply to her questions aloud, and so just nodded my head. As I did I had to grip the table with both hands as the gentle, unfamiliar shudders of an orgasm shook my frame. I could tell that she noticed, and watched a bead of moisture appear on her top lip before rolling slowly between her slightly opened lips and into her mouth. Her eyelids drooped as if she had suddenly become drugged.

It was just as well that the tablecloth hung down to nearly the ground. As the waiters delivered our starters, I was initially startled to feel her bare toes reaching under the table to caress my calf. Before the main course she was worming her toes under my skirt and past my knickers to stroke and pat the lips of my cunt. I wasn't swooning so much that I couldn't respond in kind and rubbed at hers through her slacks. She wasn't wearing any underwear and I could feel her lips parting as I pushed my big toe and the seam of her pants into her pussy. I could feel her moistness increasing; neither of us seemed to care of any consequences when we eventually stood up to leave.

Maybe, anyone who might have been watching wouldn't have noticed that we were hurrying through our food, I don't know - or care, but we were.

"No coffees, we'd just like the bill please." She left a hundred for the food; I left the same amount as a tip.

To be continued...

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The author would like to express his sincere thanks to Hotti for her editorial expertise.