Keep driving.

You lean back and keep moving along. The music becomes closer. It's up-beat, and quite catchy, so that's a positive. Traffic finally begins moving a bit more quickly, leaving room between your cars and the rest. You begin to drive but you're soon stopped.

Several beautiful women surround your car, dancing their hips with the music growing in volume. They're all dressed in festive outfits that resemble tiny bikinis draped in colourful tassels. Your eyes travel up and down their bodies. Each has amazing hips, barely clothed by the tight gripping outfits, and their large breasts bounce left and right with their movements. They skip up to your car, and you feel the curse in your pants begin to push.

That's when you realise something else. Not only are they barely clothed, but they're covered in soap and water. Their skin is drenched and covered in suds, and each holds one or two sponges. Giggling, they begin to wash down your car, pressing their firm breasts flat against your windows.

You'd be enjoying this a lot more if you didn't feel a hand wrap around your growing sock and begin to stroke more firmly. But you can't start driving, as half of them are directly in front of your vehicle. You'd run someone over! Continuing to laugh, dance, and smile, the girls wash down your car in the sexiest way you've seen. One rubs her rear against the hood, one crawls over the front, showing way too much cleavage than you'd like to see right now, and the rest press their bodies up against the side windows--one right next to your face. Shifting uncomfortable, you try to ignore the feeling. But this continues for a few minutes. Finally, they dance away and move on to the car behind you, freeing you, and there's now a large gap on the road between you and the rest of the cars.

You begin to drive.

You look through your mirror to see the girls bringing joy to the next gentleman. This is a festival you need to go to next time... But for now, you continue to Paulo Beardhammer's house. It isn't too far. You'll only need to travel for several more minutes, and hopefully there won't be anymore sexy car-washes on the way.

The music disappears and eventually you arrive outside of an apartment complex not unlike your own.

You step out of your car and head to the first floor, to the third room in. You knock. The short, orange-haired man open the doors dressed in a grey sweater and blue jeans. He looks up at you with a grin and beckons you inside.