At the Car Wash

Harriet considered her outfit carefully. She needed access, and she needed it fast. Also, she had to be able to hide what she was doing; she wanted a cheap, exciting thrill, not a warrant for her arrest and a restraining order.

After some deliberation, she chose a form-fitting black top that never failed to make her feel sexy, and a loose, floaty knee-length skirt, also in black. Granted, she’d put together a dark-coloured outfit which would absorb heat to wear on one of the hottest days of the year, but she’d be fine. Thankfully she had air-conditioning in the car. Plus, the very idea of what she was about to do was already making her feel all hot and bothered, so it wouldn’t make much difference.

What really mattered, after all, was what they would be wearing. Or, more accurately, what they wouldn’t be wearing. Harriet had deliberately not cleaned her car for ages, then chosen a day with record temperatures to take it to the hand car wash. Why?

Because being called boring by the man she’d thought was the love of her life had been a slap in the face. More of a punch, really. Especially when she’d come to the conclusion that he was right. Now she lived for danger and naughty sexual escapades. A visit to the hand car wash where several shirtless, muscular men would clean her car while she sat inside with her hand down her knickers was definitely in order. It had been...