Alison lets you sit on her lap.

She crosses her arms over her chest and rolls her eyes. "Alright. Fine. Go ahead and break Roger's heart."

Uncomfortably, you make your way into the truck and rest down upon your friend's long legs. Today she's wearing a pair of small denim shorts and a pink tank top. Beside you sits Roger, and you give him an apologetic wave.

"Everyone comfortable?" shouts Troy from the driver's seat. "Let's go!"

The truck pulls out and you shift nervously on your friend's lap. You suppose it would be slightly less humiliating for Alison to find out your lack of undergarments compared to Roger, but you still sweat at the thought.

As you go, your friends begin to talk amongst themselves, especially Roger and Troy. You maintain a calm composure and hope that soon you can move off from her lap. But then, her hand gently touches your upper knee and starts to carefully caress your skin.

You whisper to her and ask what she's doing, but raises her hand up higher in response. It rests on your right outer thigh, away from the prying eyes of the men, but it continues to raise higher until her fingers pet your hip.

If she goes any higher, she'll find out the truth.

"Let's get something to eat," says Roger.

Thankfully, nobody looks at you strangely, and the truck makes its way onto the main road. Her hand lingers. Hopefully, it doesn't move anywhere else before arriving at your destination.

It does, unfortunately. You feel her fingers travel up and beneath your skirt, and they pause as soon as they reach where the strap of your panties should be. You hear a quiet gasp, and then giggling.

You whisper again, trying to explain that it isn't what she thinks, but Roger looks to you.

"Did you say something?" he asks. Your eyes widen and you shake your head quickly, pulling down the front of your skirt. You're thankful he doesn't seem to notice Alison's hand.

Alison knows now, however. She wouldn't tell them. Right?

Her hand slides around the side of your rear's exposed cheek and gently moves her fingers forward and back against your skin. Admittedly, her touch is pleasant, beyond the embarrassment.

Then her hand starts to tug up the side of your skirt. Your hands quickly lower to keep the front covered, but she continues to pull up your right side, where thankfully nobody is sitting. You begin to frantically shake your head and whisper for her to stop, but she slowly tugs, as if she's just trying to tease you.