The other night, at the end of the day, I stopped along the roadside to pick up a beautiful woman. Spring has hit me a bit hard this year for some reason, and while I'm not exactly being pulled along around town by my crotch, I have been feeling more than a touch amorous. The music playing in my car had been fairly flirty, and in some cases downright sexy. While I was on my way to pick up my son, I was still in a bit of a romantic mood.

I had just turned into the neighborhood where my sitter lives, leaving the mild hustle and bustle of a main road behind for a quiet neighborhood with a school, and a pair of parks. Ever a bit school boyish over a redhead I glanced at her lithe figure as she walked into the same neighborhood. I assumed she'd just gotten off the bus and I smiled at her while I drove past. Eager with curiosity, and the possibility of flirtation, I pulled over when I saw her wave at me in the rear view mirror. I assumed, and hoped she lived nearby, which would let me drop her off real quick and still get my son at a decent hour of the day. I missed my kid, but that very male part of my brain really wanted the opportunity to have a nice conversation with a warm redheaded smile. Even more so, I was curious to see how I'd respond to the situation. I'm not an overly smooth guy. I do not have "skills". When I see a pretty girl I'd like to flirt with, more often than not the words catch, curl around my tongue and I find myself bumbling. Occasionally, the moons align and I'm able to relax enough to enjoy a nice flirt.

As she opened my door, she leaned down a bit to take a good look at me before stepping in. Friendly but wary she looked at me in that "Is he going to stab me?" kind of way. I responded with my own rather enthusiastic "I won't stab you if you won't stab me" look. Each of us silently resolving not to stick the other, she steps into my car and we exchange nervous but genuinely friendly grins. There's a strange yet, not ... unpleasant ... energy in the air as I begin to drive. We bumble a bit over small talk, hurried to find a point where we can both relax. "You need to put your seatbelt on Miss, or the alarm won't go off." I say apologetically as she fumbles it on. "So what do you do?" She asks. "I'm a computer geek." I shrug self-deprecatingly. "So where shall I take you Miss?" I ask as we're begin to travel a bit. "How about if you find a place to pull over and I give you a blow job?" She asks both brightly and very nervously.

I smile warmly, as I look at her. I'm not an innocent man, and neither am I naive enough to think that Karma has brought me a ravishing redhead with an amazing smile to service me. "Miss, I don't have any money." She exhales, the abrupt conversation change has passed and I've not flipped out on her. "We could hit an ATM, I've got time." I'm driving aimlessly through the neighborhood where my son goes to school, past the park where he plays with the sitter. "Miss, I've got ten bucks to my name right now. There's nothing in my account." My heart is pounding a bit as she replies slowly "Well ... ten bucks is better than nothing." She's as much speaking to herself at this point "You seem like a really nice guy." Then more gently businesslike "I'll get you off. Find a place and pull over."

Control of the situation has suddenly and deftly been lifted from my fingers as my brain begins to process this new information. I'm a man of course, and really as far as sex is concerned I've not had many strange and weird experiences. More than just the seasonal spring tug at my baser needs, was a singular desire to experience something a bit ... Indulgent. My driving becomes a bit more aimless as I'm trying to both find a place to park, deal with the fact that this is actually happening, and figure out what the hell to do about it. The gentleman in me says gently "Miss ... it's ten bucks." She's made her decision and she smiles sweetly and a little nervously at me. "I have no money." I can see it in her eyes. "Ten bucks is better than nothing, and you really do seem very nice." I wonder insanely if I'm getting the nice guy discount on a blow job.

Instinct quietly and non-judgementally informs me that she's taken rides in cars with boys before. She continues to say "I'll give you my number. Just, please promise to call me again. It's going to be more next time of course." She's embarrassed, but still warm and jokes a bit nervously. "Ten bucks is not much. Hell, that's crack ho money. Oh God, please don't tell anyone about this." I can see that while she's certainly committed, the surreal nature of the experience has not escaped her. I understood it completely. Around the words and the transaction we were still at the stage where we were feeling each other out. There was still a bit of nervous anxiety in the air. I felt confident in a small way, and instinct told me that she felt similarly, our rendezvous wouldn't end violently. However we still hadn't found a way to relax around each other. Gently and sweetly professional, she suggests places for me to pull over.

My confused and congenial nature moves my arms and legs to drive until that moment I exhale, finding firmer ground inside. "Miss." I breath gently, hand reaching for my wallet in the center console. "Just take the ten bucks." She leaps gratefully for the lifeline as a bit of normalcy is restored to both of us. She gingerly takes my wallet from me, hands plainly in sight as she opens it. A moment's pause and then "You weren't lying. You really only had ten bucks." I laugh warmly. "Take it Miss." Her smile is genuine and we both begin to relax. "I would have. I really was going to." She tells me. "I know, but I couldn't." I smile to myself "I was a bit nervous, and the setting a bit too weird.". We drive near the park my son walks along on after school to the sitter's house. "You really are such a nice guy. Hey, if you call me I'll give you a really good discount. And when we get back to my place, I'll show you my boob." While I may be far past the point in my life where I'm looking for more than boobs on a woman, a boob being a boob, I laughed and accepted my heroes reward. Perhaps it's not the chaste kiss of bygone days, but ... hey, it's a boob."

We drove her home slowly, chatting more comfortably about life. She directs me to a small house in a quiet cul-de-sac. She hands me her number. I accept it and give her my business card. I was a little confused what to do at this point, but she was handing me her number and I have business cards so I reflexively pass it to her. She hugs me then, and then lifts her shirt, and pulled her pink satin bra down. "36d." she smiles at me. "All natural. I'm a natural red too." She grins suddenly and asks "Have you ever seen red carpet?" I debate blithe ignorance, but truth wins out. I smile as I respond. "Yes, but ... I love it."

Pulling her jeans down a little she displays a bit of red fur. She stares into my eyes as I tell her it's beautiful. I can see she quietly loves its effect on men. She makes no move ... stretched out in the front seat of my car, watching me watching her. Her hands and clothes display no more than the hill slope of the mons venus, and we each take a moment of pleasure from the strange circumstances. My hand reached out slowly, touched her hip as I admire her. A moment, then the feel of her skin beneath my fingers reminds me how hard I try to be a gentleman. I withdraw softly and stare into her eyes. "That was forward of me Miss. I apologize." She blushes then, and breathes "No, it's OK" as she begins to hurriedly arrange herself. She looks about, suddenly conscious of her location. The emptiness of the street reassures her, and we exchange a few verbal warm wishes. Another hug, and she exits my car in a whirl of perfume.

I drive to pick up my son, smelling her in my arms and indulging in spring.