janeyruth
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Oct 2, 2006
- Posts
- 810
Night. An old beat-up Honda backfires. Blue smoke pouring out the tailpipe. Another backfire.
Inside the car. More backfiring. JESSICA, 21, behind the wheel, pretty face, nice body. wears a skimpy waitress uniform which displays her cleavage. She's had a rough day. The car lurches, the engine sputters.
"I hate this car! Hate it, hate it, hate it!"
Blam! Another backfire.
Inside Jessica's and POLLY'S apartment. The interior has the look and feel of the apartment of two college girls. Polly, 21, cute, serious, a thin, boyish shape. She sits at desk, doing homework. Sound of a car backfiring. Polly looks up. She knows that sound. She sighs.
Outside at the curb. Jessica stands, glaring at car. She's in her sexy waitress outfit and 3 inch fuck-me pumps. She looks good enough to eat. She kicks at the car.
"Take that, you pile of junk!"
She hops on one foot.
"Owwwww. Oh God, my poor toe! That hurt!"
A moment later, Jessica enters, limping, smoldering. Polly looks up. She knows a rant is building.
"I am sooo losing it. I was so upset I almost got out and walked. And I would have, except for..."
She gestures at her shoes.
"A suggestion?"
"What?!?"
"Find a job on campus. That way you won't have to drive across town in that clunker."
Day. On a bike trail. Jessica and Polly, in cycling togs and helmets, riding their bicycles.
"No way. I need my job. The tips are huge. And I don't have to know anything. All I have to do is be cute, serve drinks and show some tit. It's middle-aged men on expense accounts."
"It's demeaning."
"It's business."
"Find a job you can walk to. If you had to walk, you wouldn't dare dress like a slut."
"This from a girl who makes nine dollars an hour at Dairy Queen."
"I have my pride."
"You can't eat pride."
Back at the apartment. Jessica, in her sexy waitress garb, circles ads in the PennySaver.
"My mother said beware of occupations that require you to wear certain kinds of clothing."
"Yeah yeah yeah."
Jessica finds an ad that looks promising. She dials the number.
Jessica on the phone.
"Hello? I'm calling about the car?"
Inside LUCILLE'S workshop. Lucille, 40, a very butch female cop, her cell phone propped on the work bench with the speaker on.
https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-FOiW9xL-6xk/Tp23Dc16d7I/AAAAAAAAFyg/ediuqQeRhrw/w662-h666-no/lady+cop.jpg
She attends to two female subs, HILLARY & GILLIAN, 50-ish twin spinsters, gagged, naked, tied back to back on a sawhorse. They've been oiled and creamed. She fits suction syringes to the areoles of their sagging bosoms. Hillary and Gillian gasp through their gags as she draws back on the plungers. Vibes taped to their naughty bits hum away. They are in ecstacy.
Lucille into the phone as she continues attending to the spinsters.
"Yes, car's in good shape. Very good shape. Know it backwards and forwards, every nook and cranny. Keep it greased, oiled, start it up to keep it charged, push the buttons every so often."
She pauses to listen.
"Why am I selling it? Don't need it. You're welcome to come and look. It's parked on the front lawn."
Back in the apartment, Jessica waxes enthusiastic.
"...And she sounds really nice."
"Sounding nice on the phone doesn't equal a good car."
"She drives it, she changes the oil and filters."
"She says she drives it, She says she changes the oil."
"You are so negative"
"She lives way out in Pumpkin Center. That's a long way to go for a car."
Jessica flutters her eyelashes.
"I was kind of hoping you'd drive me."
"Me? Oh no. Don't ask me that. Please. I've got tons of things to do. I have tests and term papers and projects and - "
"Please please please please please."
"I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't."
"Please please please please please."
"I can't I can't I can't I can't Okay yes yes YES!"
Jessica smiles triumphantly.
The front lawn of Lucille's farmhouse. A car with a "For Sale" sign parked on the grass. Hillary and Gillian, in granny dresses, each lugging a suitcase, walking despondently toward the road. Gillian turns and flips off the house.
Mid-morning. Polly and Jessica are parked at the roadside, engine running, in Polly's 1985 Volvo. Jessica dressed in athletic shorts and a top that shows off her midriff and her cleavage. Practical Polly dressed in jeans and a workshirt. Jessica sits in the passenger seat fumbling with a map. Polly looks over at her.
"We're lost."
"We are not lost. We're just temporarily misdirected."
"We left the Interstate, then we left the highway, then the good country road, then the bad country road, then the gravel road. And now we're on a dirt road with a ditch at one end and a swamp at the other end. I'd say we're lost."
"You're always so negative. Where's your sense of adventure?"
Inside the car. More backfiring. JESSICA, 21, behind the wheel, pretty face, nice body. wears a skimpy waitress uniform which displays her cleavage. She's had a rough day. The car lurches, the engine sputters.
"I hate this car! Hate it, hate it, hate it!"
Blam! Another backfire.
Inside Jessica's and POLLY'S apartment. The interior has the look and feel of the apartment of two college girls. Polly, 21, cute, serious, a thin, boyish shape. She sits at desk, doing homework. Sound of a car backfiring. Polly looks up. She knows that sound. She sighs.
Outside at the curb. Jessica stands, glaring at car. She's in her sexy waitress outfit and 3 inch fuck-me pumps. She looks good enough to eat. She kicks at the car.
"Take that, you pile of junk!"
She hops on one foot.
"Owwwww. Oh God, my poor toe! That hurt!"
A moment later, Jessica enters, limping, smoldering. Polly looks up. She knows a rant is building.
"I am sooo losing it. I was so upset I almost got out and walked. And I would have, except for..."
She gestures at her shoes.
"A suggestion?"
"What?!?"
"Find a job on campus. That way you won't have to drive across town in that clunker."
Day. On a bike trail. Jessica and Polly, in cycling togs and helmets, riding their bicycles.
"No way. I need my job. The tips are huge. And I don't have to know anything. All I have to do is be cute, serve drinks and show some tit. It's middle-aged men on expense accounts."
"It's demeaning."
"It's business."
"Find a job you can walk to. If you had to walk, you wouldn't dare dress like a slut."
"This from a girl who makes nine dollars an hour at Dairy Queen."
"I have my pride."
"You can't eat pride."
Back at the apartment. Jessica, in her sexy waitress garb, circles ads in the PennySaver.
"My mother said beware of occupations that require you to wear certain kinds of clothing."
"Yeah yeah yeah."
Jessica finds an ad that looks promising. She dials the number.
Jessica on the phone.
"Hello? I'm calling about the car?"
Inside LUCILLE'S workshop. Lucille, 40, a very butch female cop, her cell phone propped on the work bench with the speaker on.
https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-FOiW9xL-6xk/Tp23Dc16d7I/AAAAAAAAFyg/ediuqQeRhrw/w662-h666-no/lady+cop.jpg
She attends to two female subs, HILLARY & GILLIAN, 50-ish twin spinsters, gagged, naked, tied back to back on a sawhorse. They've been oiled and creamed. She fits suction syringes to the areoles of their sagging bosoms. Hillary and Gillian gasp through their gags as she draws back on the plungers. Vibes taped to their naughty bits hum away. They are in ecstacy.
Lucille into the phone as she continues attending to the spinsters.
"Yes, car's in good shape. Very good shape. Know it backwards and forwards, every nook and cranny. Keep it greased, oiled, start it up to keep it charged, push the buttons every so often."
She pauses to listen.
"Why am I selling it? Don't need it. You're welcome to come and look. It's parked on the front lawn."
Back in the apartment, Jessica waxes enthusiastic.
"...And she sounds really nice."
"Sounding nice on the phone doesn't equal a good car."
"She drives it, she changes the oil and filters."
"She says she drives it, She says she changes the oil."
"You are so negative"
"She lives way out in Pumpkin Center. That's a long way to go for a car."
Jessica flutters her eyelashes.
"I was kind of hoping you'd drive me."
"Me? Oh no. Don't ask me that. Please. I've got tons of things to do. I have tests and term papers and projects and - "
"Please please please please please."
"I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't."
"Please please please please please."
"I can't I can't I can't I can't Okay yes yes YES!"
Jessica smiles triumphantly.
The front lawn of Lucille's farmhouse. A car with a "For Sale" sign parked on the grass. Hillary and Gillian, in granny dresses, each lugging a suitcase, walking despondently toward the road. Gillian turns and flips off the house.
Mid-morning. Polly and Jessica are parked at the roadside, engine running, in Polly's 1985 Volvo. Jessica dressed in athletic shorts and a top that shows off her midriff and her cleavage. Practical Polly dressed in jeans and a workshirt. Jessica sits in the passenger seat fumbling with a map. Polly looks over at her.
"We're lost."
"We are not lost. We're just temporarily misdirected."
"We left the Interstate, then we left the highway, then the good country road, then the bad country road, then the gravel road. And now we're on a dirt road with a ditch at one end and a swamp at the other end. I'd say we're lost."
"You're always so negative. Where's your sense of adventure?"
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