Tesla Girl

She laughed a little when she had to explain to him how to operate the car's strange, non-standard door handles. Once he had his side open, she slid back around to the driver's. Clement dutifully donned the safety belt, but his eyes were focused across the cabin at the steering column in front of her. "That there looks like the yoke on my Cessna, not a steering wheel," he observed.

His Cessna? Yep, this boy's family owned all the goddamned cows...

As she waited for her window to quietly close, she was mildly surprised to observe that he was still looking over at the yoke... Then she realized that her skirt had ridden up a fair amount when she had gotten in. Was he looking at the wheel, or at her legs?

Just in case, she smoothed the skirt back in place, though sitting down with the seatbelt on as she already was, it still remained an inch or two above her knee. Clement's gaze swung smoothly up and around the rest of the car.

Son of a bitch! This rich adonis had been checking out her legs! She honestly wasn't sure when was the last time that had happened, or at least the last time she had noticed. Now she was getting the eye from a guy who was at least ten years younger than her, probably more. Bernadette resolved to distract him from any embarrassing ideas.

"Ready?"

"Sure enough," Clement said eagerly, leaning forward in anticipation. That was a sure sign that he was not, in fact, ready.

Bernadette eased the car slowly back onto the pavement, then slammed the accelerator hard, possibly harder than during their race, since she had a rolling start this time. She had planted her back against the seat before she did so, and only felt the acceleration press her into the upholstery. Clement had been leaning forward and the sudden appearance of almost a gravity and a half pulling him straight back without preamble slammed him into the seat, drawing a very satisfying, "Whoa!" in a register much higher than his throat was likely used to producing. She laughed in response, the kind of wild laughter she hadn't done enjoyed much of late.

With the cowboy in the car with her, instead of chasing, she felt no need to go much beyond 85. But she didn't slow once she reached it.

"Lordy, this is so quiet!" Clement marveled. He looked around wildly at how fast the terrain was gliding by. But then his attention was drawn back into the cabin. Bernadette looked down. The acceleration, her right leg movement on the accelerator, and the way her left leg had slid wide, bracing in response to the sudden speed, had run her skirt back up high on her thighs--possibly higher even than it had been earlier.

She smiled to herself and deliberately left it that way. It was kind of nice to observe herself being ogled, she found to her surprise. And it wasn't like she was flashing him or anything inappropriate like that.

The boy's eyes lingered no longer than was polite, but long enough to be... polite. Then he went back to trying to stare at everything in and out of the car at once.

"I still can't right handle how quiet it is in here," Clement marveled. "Gun it again," he asked almost absently.

They were already at 85. Bernadette thought she should slow a bit before going for another burst of acceleration, but her foot just slammed down instead.

The car leapt forward with just the slightest whine and rush of tires on pavement.

They both whooped at the sensation.

When you are going over 110 on a rural road, you should not take your eyes off that road, but Bernadette could not help but glance over at her passenger. His face was overrun by a broad smile, and his eyes were back on her... on her lower half.

Nor could she help but let her gaze run down his broad chest, and even to his lap in turn. It would have been difficult to miss that his jeans appeared much... fuller than they had been when he had first sat down.

The situation in his jeans should have scandalized Bernadette, but she merely smiled.

Then the car beeped at her angrily, and she felt the yoke tug in her hands. Her eyes jerked up and she realized that she had lost focus on the road. The car had not liked how close to the edge she had drifted, and neither did she!

Her body shivered, though not totally from fear, and she centered the car, letting the speed drop back to a more reasonable level.

"Sorry," she said a little sheepishly to Clement. "I let myself get a bit distracted."

"Can't say's how I blame you," he replied unconcernedly. "Must be damned exciting to go that fast, that easy, that quiet."

Without quite realizing that she was about to do it, Bernadette applied the brakes firmly, pulling off onto the dirt and scrub beside the road as quickly as she could. She turned in the seat to look at Clement and a smile spread her lips involuntarily.

"Want to give it a try for yourself?"

Clement just stared at her for a moment. Then that spotlight of a smile returned to his youthful but rugged face. "You mean that?" he asked hopefully.

Bernadette's only answer was to unbuckle her seatbelt. Clement opened his door to leap out, once more eager to forestall a change of mind.

Bernadette slipped out herself, primly smoothing her disheveled skirt into place. The two passed each other in front of the car as they switched spots. She smiled at him as they passed, but she more subtly took note of the front of his jeans. She was surprised to find herself almost disappointed that they were no longer as stretched as they had been a few minutes before.

A lady has tricks when she seats herself, especially in a car, to keep her skirt in a respectable position. Bernadette, on impulse, not only failed to employ those steps, she practically reversed them. As she buckled her belt tightly, her skirt was riding well more than halfway up her thighs. Had Clement been sitting across from her somehow, instead of beside her in the driver's seat, he might perhaps have seen all the way up her skirt.

She pressed her thighs together primly... and let the skirt ride up another inch.

She turned to Clement in anticipation. He was looking excited but distracted. That made her smile wider.

"Ready to give it a go?"

He tossed his head and blinked hard, then began to look in front of him (rather than elsewhere) in earnest. His foot rested on the brake, and his big, surprisingly elegant hands gripped the yoke. After a moment, he began looking around in more confusion. "Nothing in this car is where I'd expect it," he muttered. "Where is the ignition?"

"Nothing to ignite," Bernadette laughed. "And the car knows I'm inside it, so it is already on. Just tap the shifter, and you'll be in drive." She worked him through the mirrors and wheel adjustment. At last he was ready, and eager to go.

"Roll down the windows," she requested on a whim. "Let's hear what it really sounds like." She unbuttoned a button on her blouse to better feel the impending breeze.

"Let's ride," Clement breathed as he pulled back onto the road. He was cautious and respectful of the car at first, feeling out its behavior. In a few hundred yards, they reached a stop sign. It was another ridiculously empty intersection.

The two shared a glance, followed by a smile.

"Let her go this time," Bernadette said firmly. "But brace yourself," she added.

"I purely learned that lesson the first time," Clement chuckled. He pushed his head back on the rest and smoothly pressed the accelerator to the floor. The car leapt forward like a shot.

The sensation of the acceleration was dramatically different as a passenger than as the driver, Bernadette realized. The sense of control provided by driving was absent, taking away the rush of commanding the speed herself. It was replaced instead with a thrill of vulnerability, and being swept up in the whim of the car... and its current driver.

In moments, the wind was swirling through the cabin, its turbulence shattering the usually serene quiet of the Tesla's interior. Bernadette was off-balance in every way she could think off. A stranger was driving her car. The wind was incredible. Without really having done so, she felt as if she had relinquished all control. She was truly exhilarated.

Both of them whooped with something close to, but definitely not, childish glee as the car hurtled its way past a hundred miles an hour.

Bernadette virtually always kept her fairly long hair tightly done up, its blonde locks neat and businesslike. But the various pins and the hairband that she had employed today were simply no match for the hurricane force winds lashing around the inside of the car and against her head. Her hair was rapidly escaping everywhere, and to keep from looking completely ridiculous, she swiftly removed the band and yanked free the critical pins. Now her hair raced freely around her face in a thrashing corona of naturally straw-colored ribbons.

The roiling wind even pressed its way up between her legs under her skirt, providing its own interesting sensation, and she let her legs spread a little to enjoy it more.

Then suddenly, Clement was dynamiting the brakes, slowing rapidly to obey a stop sign. As the Tesla lurched to a halt, Clement turned happily to Bernadette. "Holy shit, this is fun," he burbled. "Mind if I turn right here? There are actually afew turns a mile or so yonder, and I'd love to give them a..." he trailed off as Bernadette's disheveled appearance registered on him. She brushed her hair from over her face, and drew a deep, excited breath. Her hair must look a fright, but she noticed that Clement's eyes were moving rapidly over more than just her head. She looked down.

The wind had had its way with her skirt and now it really was indecently high. Her panties were still not quite exposed, she hoped, but it was a close thing. Moreover, several more buttons on her conservative blouse had blown open, making for a hint of some seriously improper cleavage.

No. They had not blown open. She had almost unconsciously undone them herself during that first rush of acceleration. The feel of the wind had been so amazing, she had opened the blouse further to the air circulate against her body. It had been a sensual, almost instinctual, action and she had been barely aware of doing it.

She was certainly aware of it now. She was sitting in her car, legs practically splayed out (okay, really just no longer pressed tightly together), skirt hiked up practically to her crotch, shirt the next best thing to wide open, and her hair a long, disheveled, but fortunately not tangled mess.

And there was this fucking fully clothed, living Michelangelo's David sitting in the driver's seat of her car, staring at her.

No, whomever he was a statue of, it wasn't David. She had seen the original once in Italy, and the replica many times in Las Vegas. Whatever Clement had distending the front of his jeans had in no way sprung from what The David sported. He was staring at her while producing a significant hard-on.

And she was staring at him... and at that bulge.

"So you'd like some curves?" Bernadette asked before she could stop herself.

"I, uh," Clement gulped. "I surely would like to try some, ma'a... Bernadette!"

"Sounds fun," she said, still almost breathless. It occurred to her briefly that she was sitting there looking a bit like a prom date late in the evening. (Or at least the way she had looked late in the evening after her prom!)

Almost reluctantly, she pressed her thighs together once more, coving the movement by turning a bit toward Clement in her seat. She did not think to correct any of her wardrobe malfunctions. The turn on the seat meant that her unbuttoned neckline spread open further due to the tug of the shoulder belt.

"What is up further that way?" she asked interestedly.

"Uh, well, some more road, mostly," answered Clement, who seemed to be having difficulty staying focused on the conversation. His eyes left her for a moment to look down the road and he gestured accordingly, but they gravitated back to her almost immediately. "It runs up against my family's south range in a few miles after the curves. Not much to see. We got no cattle there right now, even. You can tell that by the fact that the lake up yonder is almost full right now. They pretty near drink the water dry when we bring a herd down nearby."

Bernadette looked at him. It was becoming consciously clear to her that she had a hold on this young man. She wasn't remotely sure of what she thought about that, except that she did not want to let it go.

"Then let's go up to the lake," she said softly, leaning back in her seat. "A full body of water out around here in high summer is a sight worth seeing all by itself."

Clement shook himself, though he tried to hide it, slid the car through the intersection and shot off to the right.

The feeling of speed took them both for a bit. The first curve wasn't much, but at 100 mph, they could both feel it. The whooping resumed. As the car shot out of the curve to another straight stretch, both of them smiled into each other's eyes, briefly but intently.

The seatbelt pressed between Bernadette's breasts in a way utterly the same as seatbelts always had, but now she was aware of it pressing between her curves in a way that she never had before. Her fingers toyed with yet another button on her blouse, but she let them drop with the button still fastened.

She found that she did not want to show off her built-for-comfort, utilitarian brassiere. She told herself that it gave her some shred of proper behavior to cling to, entirely missing the point that she had been trying to work out how to show off more in the first place.

The remaining curves on the road were tighter, and Clement responsibly slowed to take them. It was still fun for them both, and after the turns, he floored it again on an open stretch, which further wilded her hair.

As the road began to run along a stretch of fencing and mounded earth, he slowed, stopping before a gated dirt road.

"Sorry about the lake, but I forgot you pretty near can't see it at all from the road out here," he said, peering through the gate, which afforded only a glimpse of water a ways up the dirt road.

Bernadette pulled the shoulder strap aside and leaned across Clement's lap to look where he was looking. Or where he had been looking. His gaze was suddenly focused on closer things. She sat back. "Well, we came all this way. Is the gate locked?"

He looked at her for a moment longer, then bolted out of the car to open the gate. He was quick to get back in the car, but the whole exercise gave Bernadette a few moments to further appreciate how good he looked, coming and going.

Clement eased the Tesla down the dirt road, quickly grumbling about how the track made for a pretty boring drive. Bernadette's mind just raced at their isolation. They were now invisible, even to the deserted road.

She was realizing that she was going to fuck this boy.

Or, at least she was going to try. Despite all the evidence available to her, she was not sure he would be as eager for the idea as she found she was. Simply put, she was a whirling cloud of uncertainty, confusion... and lust. At least the lust part was clear to her now.

She had been married for ten years, then, as a sudden widow, she had abandoned her libido with extreme prejudice and kept it at bay for the last year and a half, until today's spontaneous race, and the rides, and especially the look of this boy himself, had let that libido out of its wilderness. But she was more than just out of practice, she was at a loss about how to get what she definitely wanted.

As the car rolled to a stop, Clement said, "Welp, here it is. All the scenic beauty of a hole in the dirt, filled with water!" Nonetheless, he got out of the car, and Bernadette swiftly did likewise. To her dismay, her skirt slipped naturally back down, its hem once again dowdily resting just below her knees.

Fuck it. She slipped another button open as she stepped toward Clement, while he looked at the honestly very uninspiring pond. "Some things are fun just because they are so... unexpected," she essayed, and she stepped up next to him, shivering in the sweltering summer heat.

God, that had been a pathetic come-on... This was insanity. Her several seductions in her youth had been always initiated by the male in the equation, and those were in the dim past. She was going to embarrass herself, then, once she had been rejected, have to ride in the car with this boy for half an hour back to his gorgeous Corvette.

That's it, she told herself, chickening out. No way was she going to have the guts to try to actually do what she wanted.

She comforted herself with knowing she had a story to blow Brenda's mind.

"That... that is a plumb fabulous car, Bernadette," Clement said awkwardly. "It's a true joy to drive. But mebbe it's you should be the one driving back to my car... It's hard," he said, pausing. Then he seemed to flinch at the pause and rushed on. "I... I mean it is hard for me to give driving it the concentration it deserves. Everthin' is kinda distracting," he almost mumbled, running out of steam.

It was sweet, she realized.

For a moment, they looked at each other. Fuck, this was a gorgeous hunk of man. Young man, to be sure, but man. And his jeans were again visibly over-full.

Bernadette lifted one arm, pressing the inside of her forearm against her breast as if to protect her chest from his gaze, but she felt her fingers curling around the neckline and tugging it wider at the same time, thoroughly spoiling the affected modesty. "Everything?" Bernadette replied, screaming at herself inside to shut the fuck up. "Are you saying that I distract you, Clement?"

"Ye..." he began, then stopped himself. But his nodded sheepishly.

So.

She was going to go full Mrs. Robinson after all.

"Well then, we have a problem," she said, still tugging at the blouse. "Because you sure as hell are distracting to me too."

Clement looked utterly flustered, an expression that was enchanting to Bernadette, given the rugged features that displayed it. She hoped to hell that he was being uncertain about how to proceed, not being uncertain about how to get away.

"I think it might just be curiosity," she said, casting about for how to do this. "I mean," she added, sitting on the frunk of her car and leaning backward, bracing her hands behind her and hunching her shoulders just enough to let her shirt gape well and truly open. "I mean that there are things I'd like to see more of... to investigate."

Clement's eyes were transfixed on her. Her bra might have been a Dillard's store brand, but seeing it peek out had certainly not dimmed his focus. She let herself slide down the front of the car, pushing her skirt back up once more.

He moaned just a little. It was an involuntary, quiet noise, but the thrill in her core from the excitement of that first drag race was nothing to the jolt that that simple moan sent through Bernadette now.

The image of throwing herself to her knees before him and yanking open his Levis flashed through her head, but her confidence was growing. She wanted to induce this gorgeous specimen to touch her first. Her fearful decision to retreat was no longer even a distant memory.

"Perhaps if we get our curiosity out of the way," she practically purred to Clement, letting her eyes rest openly on his crotch, "we can drive back with our heads in the game?" With that, she slumped backward onto her elbows, sliding a little further down and moving her skirt a little farther up. It hadn't moved far, but the movement was what seemed to have his attention.

She just looked at the boy with challenge in her eyes.

He tore his own eyes from her chest and rising skirt, and as he recognized that challenge, he seemed to take heart from it.