The hum of passing cars had become a frantic drumbeat against my skull, a soundtrack to the humiliation that was rapidly unfolding. The urge, a sudden and overwhelming need, had forced me to pull over, but as soon as I did, I knew, that this was a terrible idea. My fingers fumbled with the zipper, a desperate attempt at a quick check, and then there they were. I was exposed.
It was a mess. It was all so wrong. I needed to get out of here, before someone saw me. Then, the lights.
A car pulled over, slowing to a stop behind mine. I was trapped. I saw a woman come out, her expression a mix of concern andā¦ something else. My heart hammered against my ribs, I tried to pull up my jeans, to act as if nothing was happening.
āEverything okay?ā she asked, her voice a soft yet direct sound, as she looked at me, her eyes wide with disbelief, yet, somehow, they were full of curiosity.
My mind raced, desperately trying to concoct some believable story, a quick escape from this padded nightmare. What do I say? Where do I go?
āUh, yeah, just, uhā¦ checking my tires?ā I blurted out, my voice trembling, as I reached for my zipper. My fingers were shaking, and I knew that I looked utterly ridiculous.
Her smile told me, that my excuse, had completely failed. I looked down, and then I looked up, at her. She knew what she was doing, and I was powerless to stop her. Then, she laughed.
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