I Got in the Front Passenger Seat, and There Was No Turning Back

I ordered the car like every morning. I had to get to my family’s business before anyone else, open up, check that everything was in order, turn on the lights, and breathe in the empty shop for a few minutes before the day’s noise began. It was my routine and I liked it. What I didn’t like was getting up at five-thirty, but I’d already made peace with that part a long time ago.

When I got in, I did what I always did: checked the plate, the driver’s photo, the name. Bruno. A man in his early thirties, I guessed, while I had only just turned twenty-two. He had the arms of someone who really hit the gym, not just for show, and a gray T-shirt that left very little to the imagination.

I settled into the back seat and said good morning without lifting my eyes much. He answered in a deep voice, one of those you feel more than hear, and pulled away.

A few minutes later I caught him looking at me through the rearview mirror. Not out of the corner of his eye: straight on, with a barely sketched smile. I realized I’d been watching him first, and that gave me away. I turned my face to the window all at once, as if the gray dawn over the avenue was the most interesting thing in the world.

—I saw you —I thought—. Playing dumb now would only make it worse.

I need to clarify something about myself, because it matters to understanding what I felt that morning. I’m chubby, short, with big breasts and wide hips. I grew up thinking my body was the kind nobody liked, or at best only tolerated. Finding someone who looks at you hungrily when you have a body like mine is rare. Or at least that’s what I thought, until that morning.

—How old are you? —he asked, not quite taking his eyes off the mirror.

—Sorry, I’m not telling you —I answered, still looking out the window.

The truth is, just hearing his voice made me melt. It was rough and firm, the voice of someone used to things happening the way he wanted. And that, while intimidating me, made me nervous in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

—Well —he gave a low laugh—. Maybe this is a little forward, but so we’re even... can I look at you too?

The question caught me off guard. I turned to look at him. He had dark eyes, steady eyes, like they were reading much more than I was willing to show.

—No, no, don’t do this —I told him, trying to sound firm—. You’re the typical guy who intimidates people to get what he wants.

He let out another laugh, longer this time, as if I had confirmed something for him.

—Come up front —he said, sweetening his voice until it was almost a whisper—. Sit with me.

A part of me was scared. The sensible part, the one that checks plates and shares her location with a friend. But there was another part, the pure dirtiness of imagining what might happen, gnawing at me from the inside. He gently braked and pulled over to the side of the avenue, still empty at that hour. It took me a few seconds to react. Then I opened the door, got out, walked around the car, and climbed in on the passenger side.

I felt his gaze run over me the moment I sat down. I was wearing denim shorts that left almost all of my legs bare, a loose little strappy blouse, and no makeup except for a bit of mascara. I felt naked under that look alone.

—Now we’re even —he said, and drove off again.

***

Nerves had my legs tense. I tried to relax and couldn’t. Every time he shifted gears, his hand brushed near my knee, and I held my breath, waiting for something that never quite came. Until it did.

Without asking permission, he laid his hand on my thigh and squeezed it. Not hard, just enough for me to understand he was going to set the pace. My heart kicked hard.

—Can I keep going? —he asked, with a soft tease in his voice, not taking his eyes off the road.

—Whatever you want —I told him, faking a nonchalance I didn’t feel even a little bit.

He started stroking my leg, slowly, inching upward little by little. His fingers reached the center and, over the fabric of my shorts, pressed lightly. My breathing broke into tiny gasps I tried to hide and couldn’t.

—I’m sure you’ve been soaking wet since you got in —he said, stopping at a red light. He turned his head and looked at me hard.

I looked back and laughed ironically, because that was the only defense I had left.

—Want to check how wet I am? —I dared to say.

He lifted an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected me to answer like that, and I liked seeing him surprised even for a second. With all the shamelessness I could muster, I unbuttoned my shorts, took his wrist, and guided his hand inside. He understood right away. His fingers slid to where the fabric let him, and he began tracing slow circles over my clit.

My mistake. That man knew exactly what he was doing. My hand clamped around his forearm, nails digging into his skin. And just when I thought he was going to stop, he shoved two fingers into me at once, without warning, tearing a moan out of me I couldn’t swallow.

—Baby, you’re so wet —he murmured—. I need to taste all of you.

He pulled his hand out, accelerated as soon as the light changed, and took a couple of turns. The scenery kept changing: we left the avenue and went down a side street, then another narrower one, until we reached a block that was practically deserted, with no open shops and not a soul in sight.

For a moment, fear came back, real fear. I got out of the car fast, almost without thinking. I heard him laugh behind me and the sound of his door opening.

—Where do you think you’re going? —he said, standing in front of me—. You heat the food up and then you don’t want to eat it?

***

He took me by the waist and drew me against him. He kissed me before I decided anything, and the truth is it took me no effort at all to kiss him back. He kissed well, with just the right tongue, unhurried, as if we had the whole morning. I have to admit it: that’s where I finally gave in.

He opened the back door and gently shoved me inside. I landed stretched out on the seat and he yanked down my shorts and underwear in one go, leaving me naked from the waist down. I felt ashamed to be like that with a stranger, in a car, out on the street. But the shame vanished in an instant when his mouth buried itself between my legs.

I moaned without being able to stop myself. His hands slid up under my blouse to my breasts and squeezed them hard.

—These tits are torture —he said against my skin—. Delicious little fat girl.

Those words had more effect on me than any caress. I, who had grown up believing my body should be hidden, had him devouring me as if I were the most desirable thing in the world. His tongue went in and out, then his fingers took over, then he licked again, sucked, nipped. I writhed against the seat, one hand in his hair and the other gripping the headrest.

—More —I begged, my voice broken.

And he sped up his movements. I felt pleasure gathering low in my belly, that warning that I was about to come... and then he stopped.

—What are you doing? —I protested, frustrated.

—Easy, chubby —he said, climbing into the car and closing the door behind him—. You’re not leaving without me making you mine.

I sat up and he did the same. With a nod of his head, he motioned for me to finish taking my clothes off, and I obeyed, pulling off my blouse in the cramped space of the back seat. He grabbed my hips and seated me astride him. It was as if our bodies sought each other out on their own: the moment I settled, he entered me all at once, and I let out a long moan against his neck.

We started moving slowly, finding the rhythm. His mouth devoured my breasts while his hands gripped my ass hard, opening me, setting the beat. Every so often he gave me a slap that echoed in the silence of the car, and I rested my head on his shoulder, dizzy with pleasure.

—You’re so tight —he told me in my ear—. Your pussy tastes delicious. I’m going to make you come, and then I’m going to come inside you.

He bit my earlobe lightly as soon as he finished speaking. I bit his neck back, and that lit him up even more. His thrusts grew deeper, faster.

—Fill me —I whispered—. Please, come inside me.

My moans turned into cries I no longer bothered to hold back. The slaps grew harder. One of his hands came up to my left breast and took it to his mouth, playing with it while the other kept setting the pace from behind. His mouth moved over my breasts, my neck, my shoulders, as if he wanted to memorize every inch.

—Tell me you’re mine —he ordered, his voice breaking.

—I’m yours —I gasped—. All yours.

I felt the wave getting closer, this time with no brakes.

—I’m coming —I warned him.

He quickened his thrusts and I couldn’t hold on any longer. I came on top of him, shaking all over, and let myself fall against his shoulder, moaning his name.

—Bruno...

—Not yet —he said, grabbing my hips with both hands—. You’re going to hold out a little longer, because I’m not done and I need to fill you up.

He drove into me without mercy. I was so sensitive that every movement tore an involuntary cry out of me. I held on like that for a few endless seconds, until I felt him finish inside me. He bit my shoulder as he came and I moaned one last time, exhausted and satisfied in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

***

When I got my breath back, I looked at the time on my phone. Six forty. My whole body went cold.

—I have to get there —I said, looking for my clothes between the seats.

He came closer, unhurried, and looked me over once more, as if he wanted to keep the image for himself.

—I’ll tell you one thing —he murmured in that rough voice—: you just walked into the wolf’s den, chubby.

—No, don’t come at me with lines like that —I told him, covering my face, dying of laughter and embarrassment.

He laughed again. I finished dressing as best I could and he went back to the front seat and drove me to work. We made the rest of the trip almost in silence, but it was a different silence from the one at the beginning, heavy with everything that had just happened.

When we arrived, before I got out, he turned and looked at me.

—I assure you you’re going to see me again —he said, winking at me.

I didn’t answer. I got out, looked around to make sure there was no one I knew on the sidewalk, and then I did something I hadn’t even expected from myself: I opened the passenger door again, got back in, and kissed him, catching him by surprise. It took him a second to respond, but he did, and he pulled me toward him with a hand on the back of my neck.

—You’d better go —he said against my lips— before I take you with me and fuck you again.

I laughed, got out, and went into the shop with my legs still shaking. I turned on the lights, checked that everything was in order, just like every morning. But that morning I wasn’t the same as always. And the truth is, I’m still waiting for that message saying my car has arrived, hoping he’ll be the one on the other side.