The mall

"John," Sarah says. "Thanks for the amazing day but I really need to get to work now. So can I please?" She gestured at her body, still only clad by panties, bra, and her jacket.

_Oh, right. _You remember. She works a shift at Black Canyon on Fridays.

But after all, why can't she go to work like this?

"Please, John. I'm serving customers."

"Well, I suppose you can't go to work like that," you say. She breathes a sigh of relief. "I'll drive you," you add.

"What? You're going to be at the mall too?" She hesitates.

"Yep, I have to buy some groceries," you lie.

"Wait," you say, as she reaches for her clothes. "Get dressed in the car."

She sits shotgun. The mall is only a ten minute drive away.

"I'll let you wear your jacket and jeans to work, and only that," you say.

She seems a little nervous, but says, "that's a good deal." She probably knows arguing with you is not a good idea.

"But on one condition," you say.

"I should've known!" She slaps your arm several times, which is really cute given her state of undress. The leather of your seats must feel comfortable for her.

"Put your hands behind the headrest like this," you say. She does, which makes her jut her chest out of the jacket like a show emerging from opening curtains.

"And, open your legs. Make sure your knees never touch."

Now she's in a beautiful position. "Okay, stay like that, until we reach the mall. If your hands move, you won't get your top, if your legs move, you won't get your jeans."

"Ugh, John. I don't even know what to say. Fuck you." She says, but her limbs stay at their spots.

"I'm not done yet," you say. You lift her bra, just enough come clean of her nipples, which might be a worse mockery than having them all off. She says a dejected "oh, no..." as if something disastrous and out of her control just happened, and she had **** but to just sit and accept it.

Then you hook your thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pull it off just a few inches. She obediently lifts herself to let you do so.

"Ugh," she says, trying to suppress an embarrassed smile. She can't look you in the eye, but she sees someone approaching from the entrance of the campus parking lot, and screams, "John, drive, now! Drive!"

It's hilarious, seeing her like that.

Her arms and legs are still fixed in position when we stop at a traffic light. "Oh fuck, fuck!" Sarah screams, because she had been slumping downward in the seat out of most pedestrians' view (which makes her arms outstretched and legs spread even more, but her hands are still behind the headrest), but right next to us is a truck driver, sitting a few more feet above every other driver or pedestrian. Sarah has nowhere to hide but provide the driver a bird's eye view of her body.

The only thing she can do is cover her face, with the jacket. The truck driver smiles at you, points and nods. You smile back.

The light is still red, so your fingers are free to lightly twirl and rub Sarah's mound. She lets out a yelp and squirms in her seat, but still careful not to let her knees touch. You use your other hand to tickle her (she's very ticklish). "No! Not now, John!" she says, laughs and screams, but mostly screams.

"Remember, no touching your knees!"

The afternoon sun is still out and bright, bathing Sarah's writhing body in a radiant glow."Do you want me to open the windows?" I say.

"Don't you fucking dare, son of a bitch! Ah - " her sweet laughs sound like moans for a second.

The truck driver manages to snap a picture before the light turns green and we part.

We arrive at the mall. It's a weekday, but it's Friday and the holidays are coming soon, so there are more people than usual.

"Don't you ever do that again, you prick," she says, cowering into the legroom while taking off her bra and zipping up her jacket. You can still imagine her beautiful body under there, accessible with one pull of the zip. When she's done, she gets upright on the chair, pulls her panties down, but before she pulls up her pants, she takes a tissue and wipes her pussy first.

It comes off a little wet. "Shut up, this is your fault," she mumbles, and throws the tissue at you.

"When are you done?" you say.

"At nine."

"Nine," you say. "Have fun."

She enters the mall and you head to park the car. You're pretty stocked on groceries already, although you have something else in mind to buy. But first, you see a girl making a dance in front of her phone, probably for TikTok, and another girl arguing with her dad.