Commandeer her vehicle

There it is. The car that taunts me everyday.

I run my hand over the body, then immediately regret it. My fingers leave faint oil streaks that stand out against the high polish surface. I buff it out with my shirt, at least making it harder to notice in the parking ramp lighting.

I open it an hop inside. The red leather is striking. I slide into the driver’s seat. The crush of leather wraps around me more sensually than I expected. Everything is incredibly clean. She must have it detailed often. I grip the steering wheel and marvel at the dash indicators. They are sculpted to invite exploration and are framed perfectly by the steering wheel for constant visibility. I slowly realize I smell her perfume on the seat. I lean back into it, getting more than a little turned on. This feels really, really nice.

And today it is mine.

The envelope outlined in my mission briefing sits on the passenger seat. It looks like a greeting card. Or a birthday card... I pull out the business card and read the back of it. The address that Victoria had written on it looks familiar. Is that is her mother’s address? Is this a three-days-belated birthday gift?

I fumble around until I find the convertible functions and drop the top. I rev the engine, then fist pump as I drive out into the glorious sunshine wearing Victoria’s sunglasses.