Driving Stick Read online

  Driving Stick

  by

  Natalie Foxx

  How much’s a hooker? Five hundred? Three hundred? A thousand? It depends on the hooker, and it depends on what you want from the hooker, and how hot she is. Anal is going to be more expensive than a blowjob, and asking her to use her feet will be even more expensive. I don’t care for feet, that’s not really the point, what I’m trying to say is that if you wanna fuck someone tonight, then a hooker might be the easiest, fastest choice, but it’ll also be pretty expensive. Also, you never know where that pussy has been, but you definitely know it has been in way too many places. But, here me out, the best part about getting some pussy is waiting for that pussy to be served. You wanna hunt that pussy, you wanna marinate it, and cook it, and then when you’re finally eating it, it’ll taste and feel amazing because you earned it. That’s something you’ll never feel with a hooker, it’s just too easy, it’s like going to a drive thru to get a $1 burger. I mean, it’ll fill you up but you won’t feel too great afterwards. That’s why I don’t do prostitutes. I did a couple in the past, that’s how I can talk about it like this. I know how it goes. It’s pretty much like jerking off in the shower, except that there’s someone else.

  What I do now is much better than picking up hookers, and much cheaper, and it works every time, and the girls I get are definitely less trashy. I drive around my fancy Italian car, I park it outside a club at night, and then I wait for the pussy to line itself up in front of me, asking me if they can take a picture of the car, or if they can ride in it, or whatever, some of the girls are drunk so sometimes I don’t even know what they’re saying. The game is to get a girl to get in the car, that’s all you need, because as soon as you get one of those girls in the passenger seat then you know you’re going to get laid that night. Girls love cars, that’s a universal truth. And having the fanciest car in Miami Beach will literally make you the most attractive man in the city, it doesn’t matter what you look like.

  The catch to my strategy, as you’re probably thinking, is that you have to have a car that’s at least worth a couple hundred thousand dollars for it to work, even better if it’s closer to a million dollars. Saying those words, a million dollars, will make any girl drop her panties faster than anything else in this world. Well, as I was saying, you need to have money if you wanna play this game. You need to be a rich boy with a large inheritance, or with a good job, or be famous, but I’m neither of those and I’m still playing. How do I do it? Well, I have balls, I’m a little bit of an idiot, and I work at a car rental place.

  Yeah, my car is a rental and I’m not even paying for it. Rims-To-Roll is the place I work at, a pimp, expensive place for tourists and millionaires to rent fancy cars when they come to Miami. I’ve been working there for the last three years, longer than anyone else besides the owner. The owner has a temper, and he’s a complete idiot, so people either quit or they get him so upset that he fires them. But I’ve managed to stay on his good side all this time, which has given me benefits, and one of those benefits is to do promotional drives, which is pretty much to drive around in these fancy cars and get people’s attention, and then hand out flyers and try to attract new customer. The thing is, I always forget the flyers, I just get people’s (women’s) attention.

  When I first started doing these promotional drives, I would actually hand out flyers, but that changed quickly as soon as I realized I could use the car to get laid. This one night after I ran out of flyers, this hot girl who just came out of a club approached me to ask me about the car. Because I didn’t have any flyers, I decided to lie to her.

  “Yeah,” I said to her. “It’s my car. It’s worth Five hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Wow,” she said to me with a flirty, horny smile. “Do you mind taking me for a ride?”

  I thought about it for a few seconds, thinking about all the consequences, of how I couldn’t afford to lose my job, but I was also thinking about how hot the girl was and how nice her red lips would look around my dick.

  “Sure,” I said, and as soon as I started using the stick to shift gears, the girl grabbed my stick and shifted my gears. We went to a quiet, dark place and did it in the passenger seat. It was awesome. The next night I went out, with a different car, I tried the same thing, and like a Deja Vu, it worked again. I picked up another girl, we made out, he game me a blowjob, and then we had sex in the passenger seat, or if the weather was nice and we felt adventurous, then we had sex on the hood of the car. It’s the perfect crime because it isn’t really a crime. It is free, easy, and it makes me feel like a genius. But the best part about all this is that, even though it works ninety percent of the time, it still feels like a challenge. There’s still that sense of hunting and trying to find a girl to fuck, and that’s what makes it so fucking hot. It’s like cheating the system.

  Tonight I’m going out again, with a shiny yellow car with red leather seats. It’s a beautiful sports car from Italy. It can go from zero to ninety in about nine seconds, it has suicide doors, the engine purrs like a lioness, and I’m sure the girls will love it. It’s a new car at the store, and it’s one of the most beautiful cars I’ve ever seen. It’s both gorgeous and aggressive.

  At around two in the morning is when people start leaving the clubs, so at one thirty I go there and find a good parking spot in front of the most expensive and exclusive clubs and bars. The locations is important, the more girls get to see you, the more chances you have of taking one of them for a ride. Then I wait until the moment is right. I step out of the car and lay back on it, with the keys in my hand, and I pretend that I’m a very important person who doesn’t want to be bothered. If I’m all smiles and I invite people to get closer, they won’t because they’ll think I’m selling them something. Maybe they think I’ll be giving them flyers!

  Anyways, when the clock hits two and people start to leave, that’s when the game begins. That’s when you go out to the cold night, to stand beside your car, and pretend that you’re important and have somewhere to be, even when you’re not important at all and you have nowhere to be. That’s the secret, to pretend you’re successful, busy, and confident, to let the girls come to you because you’re too good for them. If they think you’re too good for them, then they’ll want you even more.

  “Hey dude, nice car.” The first bite is a guy, who I thank with a nod. I’m not gay, but if I was I would probably be doing the same thing, maybe, I don’t really know if gay guys love cars as much as straight guys and girls do. He keeps looking at it until he’s far away and distracts himself with something else. Then comes a group, some dudes and some girls. These groups are tricky and almost always not a good investment, these girls won’t be too open to leave their group behind. But this is only if the group is big and there are guys and girls. If it’s a group of just girls, then I have better chances because girls love showing off how much of a slut they are to each other. It’s like a competition. Sometimes I just want to tell them that they don’t have to fight over me, that I can give all of them a ride, even though the car only has space for two people.

  The big group takes a photo in front of the car and then keep going. Then there come a couple of girls, and I put my game face on. They stare at the car, and then me, and I look back at them and nod. I let them speak first, because that way I know if they’re interested. If I go out of my way to try to approach them, I’ll approach girls who won’t be interested at all and that will be a waste of time, but if I wait for them to start, I’ll know they’re interested and it won’t be a waste of time.

  “Wow,” one of the girls says, the one wearing a short white skirt and a tank top, she’s not the most good looking girl in the street, but she would be out of my league if I didn’t have this car. “What car is that
?” I give her a very slight smile as I respond.

  “It’s from Italy,” I say, not mentioning the price yet, because I know that’s something they’ll ask. The girls step closer to check it out, their eyes go around the car and then back at me. The other girl doesn’t talk, she’s had a bad day, I can tell. She’s cold and has her arms crossed and her eyes look very tired. Still, she’s interested in the car.

  “How much did you pay for it?” the same girl who spoke before asks. I pretend to think about it, as if money wasn’t an issue and I wasn’t really sure.

  “About a million dollars,” I say and those words make the girl with the white skirt drop her jaw and the sleepy girl wake up a little.

  “Wow,” the girl with the white skirt says again. “My car cost me five thousand dollars!” She laughs, and the sleepy friend, now more interested laughs too. Their laughs are very similar, as a matter of fact they both look very similar, with their tan and skinny bodies, long brunette hair, and light brown eyes.

  The girl with the white skirt asks me if they can take a picture in front of the car.

  “Of course,” I say and I step out of they way, to look at the rest of the prey, gorgeous, young, drunk women all around. Women so beautiful they could be on the cover of a magazine. They all look very similar, at least in the way they dress, but nothing as extreme as the two girls taking pictures of my car.

  “This one was blurry,” the girl with the white skirt says. “Let’s take another one.” Reluctantly, the sleepy girl poses and they take a couple more pictures. “Thank you so much,” the girl with the white skirt says when they’re done. “It’s a beautiful car.”

  “Thank you,” I say to her, still trying to figure out the mystery of why these girls look so alike. Their parents must be from the same country, or something The girl with the white skirt keeps smiling at me, it’s working, if I wanted I could ask her if she wants a ride and she would probably say yes, and then we would probably fuck. Or probably not, because her friend looks too tired and upset and I’m sure white skirt wouldn’t let her behind.

  “Let’s go home, Vanessa” the sleepy, grumpy girl finally talks. “I’m tired and we still have to walk a long while.” Vanessa, white skirt is Vanessa, I got it. Vanessa turns back at her friend with a frown.

  “Just give me a second, okay?” Vanessa says. “Just because you got dumped today it doesn’t mean you can ruin my night too.”

  “I didn’t get dumped,” the tired girl says, getting more upset but more awake. “That idiot cheated on me and I broke up with him. How’s that getting dumped?”

  Vanessa looks at me with a can you believe this girl face.

  “Well,” Vanessa says. “It didn’t look like he wanted to be with you, if he was with somebody else. Right…?” She looks at me, asking for my name and asking for my support.

  “I’m Steve,” I say to her.

  “Nice to meet you, Steve,” she says.

  “And I’m sorry you got cheated on,” I say to the tired, sad girl, instead of agreeing with Vanessa. “That guy’s an asshole.”

  “Hah!” the girl who got dumped laughs at Vanessa, and Vanessa looks at me with a flirty smirk, in disbelief that I didn’t help her out. “Even Steve agrees with me!”

  “Wow,” Vanessa says. “Thank you, man. I thought you would be on my side.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “But she is right.”

  “She’s Veronica,” Vanessa says. “My grumpy twin sister.”

  Twins! They are twins! Holy shit, that’s why they look so similar!

  This changes everything. They are twins, I’ve never had sex with twins. They’re suddenly much more attractive, both of them, and I suddenly get nervous as if it was the last inning of a baseball match and I had to score twice to win the game.

  “Veronica and Vanessa,” I say, thinking my words, wanting them to be perfect. “The happy and grumpy twins.”

  “Hey,” Veronica says. “I’m not grumpy, at least not all the time. I’m just tired of guys, they’re all assholes.”

  “Thank you,” I say and Vanessa laughs. “It’s true. I mean, I was going to offer you guys a ride to be nice, but given that all guys are assholes then maybe you can just walk in the cold instead.”

  Vanessa keeps laughing, until she realizes I’m being serious, and that that’s an opportunity she doesn’t want to miss. She gets to not walk in the cold night, and she gets to ride in a million dollar car. For her smile, I know she’s in, now I just have to convince Veronica.

  “You’re not an asshole!” Vanessa says, trying to make me change my mind.

  “Well,” I say. “Veronica here said I am, so I guess there’s nothing I can do, unless she takes it back.

  “I’m not going to take it back,” Veronica says. “Guys are dogs, they’re assholes, and they’re stupid, and all they care about is sex.”

  “Like you don’t care about sex,” Vanessa reproaches her, and I can tell they’ve had this conversation a million times before. “You are always talking about sex! Either about wanting to have sex, or not having enough sex, or about the sex you just had.” And this is probably true. In my experience, it’s always the quiet ones who are the sluttiest.

  “That’s not true!” Veronica says, looking at me.

  “Hey, I’m not judging,” I say to her. “Sex is good.”

  “I’m sure you know,” Vanessa says. “With a car like that you’re probably getting laid all the time.”

  There’s a long silence as the idea hits all three of us at the same time. It worries me, because I’m not sure what they’ll think, if they’ll be into it, or if they’ll think I’m just another guy, another dog who is just trying to find a bitch to fuck. In this case two bitches, two identical bitches. They look at each other’s eyes, as if communicating with their minds with their psychic twin powers.

  “I’m going to be leaving soon,” I say to them, throwing my bait, hoping they’ll bite. “Do you girls want a ride or not?” They keep thinking about it, looking at me, then looking at the car, then looking at each other. “It’s not a spacious car, so one of you will have to sit on the other’s lap.”

  Vanessa, who’s already convinced, anxiously stares at Veronica until Veronica gives up and nods. They’re both in.

  “I call shotgun!” Vanessa says and runs to the door.

  “There’s no shotgun,” Veronica tells her. “There’s only one seat.”

  “Then I call that you’ll seat in my lap!”

  “Whatever,” Veronica says and walks past me to the door. I open the door for them, because they don’t realize it’s a suicide door, so it opens the other way, and then I help them in. Instantly, Vanessa says wow again. That’s her word, apparently. She loves the leather, and the designs, and the lights, and how fancy and manly everything looks. Veronica is impressed too, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. I get in the car too, close the doors, and before pressing the button to turn the car on I look at them, just so I can see their reaction. There’s something very erotic about the way a car roars. Girls love it. But only if it’s a good, expensive car like this. Girls don’t care at all if it’s a cheap car with a resonator. Then, when they’re ready, I press the button and I can almost see the blood rush from the girls’ bodies to their vaginas. Instant turn on.

  Without asking, or caring, where they live. I start driving. I step on the gas and all the faces around us turn to see us leave. It’s like we’re famous, or better, because we don’t have to worry about paparazzis. I maneuver around the people on the street and Veronica holds Vanessa and the car tight to stay in place. After a few minutes, we get to the highway and then the fun begins. I accelerate so fast my body sinks on the chair, and even though the speed limit is seventy miles per hour I get to one hundred, one hundred and twenty, and even one hundred and fifty.

  “Wow!” Vanessa says, laughing, scared but having fun, like in a rollercoaster, and seeing Veronica’s face I can tell she feels the same way.

  There are never cops around t
his area of the highway, I know that, I’ve driven past it enough times to know, so I maintain the speed and swerve around the other cars as if I own the road. I don’t turn on the radio, so the girls can hear the engine roar.

  I keep accelerating, and we get to one hundred and eighty, and then two hundred.

  “Oh my god!” Vanessa says. “This is so much fun!”

  “This is crazy!” Veronica says, joining in.

  But soon enough, the road starts to end and I have to slow down. Now, instead of hearing the car’s engine, I hear the girls breathing heavily, excitedly.

  “That was awesome,” Vanessa says, and I smile.

  “Are you girls ready to go somewhere more quiet?” I ask them, taking a turn, in route to Miami’s Make-out Spot. Without saying any words, they both agree. I’m in.

  I park somewhere quiet and dark, away from the other cars where teenagers are probably losing their virginities. I keep the car going, with the AC on, and I put on some music. For about a minute, we’re just sitting there, staring at the beautiful beach houses and the ocean.

  “You can go first,” Vanessa tells Veronica. “You need it more than I do. After all, you just got dumped.”

  “I didn’t get dumped!” Veronica says, but listening to Vanessa’s laugh she realizes she’s just being teased. “Whatever, let’s get this over with.” Sounds demeaning, but it isn’t for me. For me it sounds even better, it’s like she wants to have sex with me even though she shouldn’t. So first, I do it with grumpy Veronica, as Vanessa watches. It’s not a threesome, but it’s as hot, or maybe even hotter because of the extra kink.

  I pull my seat back, and move the steering wheel away, so there’s space for me to pull Veronica and put her on top of me. Then I kiss her and, reluctantly, she kisses me back. Her breath is minty and nice, she didn’t drink tonight, in fact I think neither of them did. They’re both sober, which means they really want me and it’s not the alcohol speaking. I kiss her soft lips, bite them, feel them in my mouth, and then I use some tongue and it touches hers, exchanging saliva. I put my hands around her waist, and touch her back, and she shivers. It’s cold. I put on the heat so she’s more comfortable.