The Auto-Parts Girl

I had to bring the convertible in for regular servicing, and I said I'd wait for it. A couple of hours at the dealer wouldn't bother me. In fact, I was looking forward to it. Based on past visits, I knew I could myself up with a laptop and cappuccino at a desk on the edge of the showroom. Moreover, there I'd be near a counter for the parts department. And staffing that counter, I knew, would be Teresa.

She was a 20-something brunette who often wore short skirts. One couldn't immediately see her legs because she'd be behind the counter. But then at some point, she could be expected to walk out, into the showroom or back to the service department, to confer with a colleague or client, and that's when my gaze would follow her, as discreetly as possible. Her legs were gorgeous, whether bare or nylon-clad.

I'd never spoken much to Teresa. Just a few "Good morning's" or "Thank you's" on previous visits, when she'd gotten me a replacement fob battery or run the case register after some repair. I suspected that I was unlikely to catch her eye, a guy with some 10 years on her and a shy manner. But I always hoped for some longer interaction, whatever that might be. And this time, when the service guy told me I should get a new alternator belt and tire rotation, I was glad at the thought I'd spend a little more time just a few yards from Teresa, as she made calls and deal with customers who approached the counter.

She was wearing a short purple dress, dark tights and heels, and I gazed at her intently, though as surreptitiously as I could, every time she walked by. I guess I wasn't that subtle about it, as she caught my eye and smirked at one point while passing my borrowed desk. embarrassed, I looked down at my laptop screen. I could sense her pausing for a moment behind me, as if she were looking at what's on the screen. There wasn't much to see there, just a spreadsheet of auto expenses. I'd safely minimized the window with a short story I'd started to write about a hot young woman at an auto-parts counter.

Well, the repairs dragged on longer than expected, and it turned out the dealership was closing early today, 5 p.m. before the holiday weekend. It was 4:54 when the service guy handed me an invoice and told me I could pay it and get keys from the parts desk. He then called over to Teresa, "Thanks for locking up tonight," and walked out. As I shut down my laptop, I looked around. The dealership now was empty, as far as I could see, except for me and Teresa, who was looking over at me from the parts counter. She smiled, and as I approached, that took on more the look of a smirk. "I bet you got a lot of work done today," she said as I placed the invoice on the counter.

"Just keeping track of a few expenses," I said, still self-conscious about the writing I'd been doing.

She looked me in the eye, her smile widening. "Didn't look like that way to me," she said knowingly.

I didn't know what to say. Had she seen the story I was writing? I suddenly realized that I'd left it open on screen as I'd stepped over to the men's room an hour earlier. Had she walked over just then? And if she'd actually read what I'd written, I had reason to be mortified. In the paragraph I'd gotten up to, the auto-parts girl had pulled the client by his tie over to her work area, bringing him behind the counter and having him kneel and kiss her stockinged legs, just out of sight of her co-workers and customers.

"I think you have a lot more interesting ideas than tracking expenses," she said. I looked at her silently for a moment. "I'm going to ring you up for today's repairs," she continued, looking at me yet more intently. "And then I'll give you your keys. That's if you do as you're told." My eyes widened as I looked back at her. Then I looked down at the receipt, feeling a blush spread across my face. She had read it, hadn't she?

I paid the bill and then looked up at her. "What now?" I asked, in the hesitant voice of someone seeking direction.

She beckoned me with her finger to come around the counter. As I did, she pointed toward the floor. "Now you kneel," she said firmly. As I complied, she chuckled and said, "I knew you'd know what to do."

She leaned on a stool, and I hesitantly put my hand on her thigh. She allowed me to stroke her legs, one at a time, for a minute or so. Then she grabbed me by the hair and pressed my face into her crotch. "May I lift your skirt?" I said timidly. Her reply had a slightly sharp tone. "You may and you will," she said.

I could hear traffic pass by in front of the dealership, and I wondered if anyone in a passing car might see in through the large windows and notice a woman sitting at a counter in the back of the showroom. Would they realize she was giving orders to a kneeling man behind the counter? The thought embarrassed me, and excited me. I didn't realize I'd soon be fully visible to any passing motorists.

After I'd kissed her panties for some long, wonderful moments, Teresa told me to get up and bend over the counter. I did, facing way from her and looking out over the showroom and the highway beyond. She then undid my belt and pulled my pants and underwear down below my knees. I started to move, but she put her hand on the small of my back and said, "Stay there."

I waited silently as she opened a drawer next to me. "You'd be surprised at some of the parts we keep around here," she said cheerfully. My jaw dropped as I saw what she was holding: a pink dildo. She waved in the air as if trying to make someone in a passing car would see it, and then she began rubbing it between my butt cheeks. Before long, it turned out she also kept some cream in her drawer, and she applied that before pressing the dildo further in.

I moaned, with my head down on the counter. Teresa gave me a few spanks with her hand, and then told me to pull my pants up. "Here are your keys," she said in a businesslike tone. Then, as I was getting dressed, she looked over my file: "I have your number," she said, with just a little more sultriness. "I'll be calling to give you some additional instructions."