The black SUV pulls up to the curb, and you and Jen hop in; Jen in the front, of course. The vehicle pulls away from the curb smoothly as Jen adjusts her seatbelt and leans over to kiss the driver, chirping happily about the afternoon's shopping excursion, and wondering how the New Year’s party you are all heading to will go. You put your own seatbelt on and sit there, feeling kind of stupid, not knowing what to say.
Finally, Jen pauses for breath and the driver looks into the rearview mirror and smiles. "Hi. I'm Nick, Jen's boyfriend. It's nice to be introduced to you."
You laugh at the joke and start to introduce yourself, but Jen is already off and running again—time about the food court selections—and does not appear to have even noticed the exchange, let alone that she was unintentionally rude.
Nick makes eye contact again in the mirror and shrugs as if to say, "Hey, it's Jen. You know the drill." You nod ruefully back at him. Jen has been your friend for six years now. You definitely know the drill.
You met Jen in college. She was a rich kid, the kind you can spot from a mile away. Jen never thought about money: a privilege only afforded to people who grow up with scads of it. That wasn't to say Jen was a bad person. Compared to most of the snobs at that school Jen was one of the good ones. And she was generous. When it actually occurred to her that you might not be able to afford that week's crazy excursion she paid your way without a second's thought. And unlike some of the other kids, she never held it over your head. Money was not a weapon to Jen. It was just there, to be spent at will.
Jen was a good girl. But all that money, all that privilege, and an only child to boot made Jen a tad more focused on Jen than might be healthy. But you're used to that, and don't call her down as she breaks down what the checkout girl at Panda Express was wearing.
The car rolls on through the night to the New Year’s party. Third year in a row with no one to kiss, which you try not to think about. Rain pours down outside, but Nick has the back left window cracked just an inch, a step he took when Jen cranked up the heat without asking whether or not anyone might feel stuffy. You suspect the cracked might be more to keep the windows from fogging up, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless.
The radio is on softly, and if you concentrate you can hear the pop songs playing, almost tuning Jen out. It's not that she's boring, but you were there, and don't need the whole afternoon rehashed.
A few minutes later Jen gets a call from her mother. This is the fourth call of the day, and like the others, does not go well. Soon Jen is screaming into the phone and sends it flying into the back seat, barely missing your head.
This leads to another long diatribe; again, one you've heard before. Nick starts rubbing the back of Jen's seat, as unconsciously trying to comfort her. That kind of cracks you up, but you keep the laugh to yourself. As he moves his hand back and forth it brushes your leg. A small charge goes through you, like an electric shock, but you don't say anything, as Nick doesn't appear to have noticed. The second time his hand actually comes to rest on your knee, and you can see his eyes furrow, as he tries to figure out what the object is.
A slight probing and gentle squeeze of your knee produce no recognition, and his hand moves up an inch. You might even think he's flirting except for the earnest expression on his face, trying to figure out what on earth that thing is.
His hand suddenly stops as a look of recognition comes over his face. A split second later he jerks away, as if scalded, so violently he nearly runs into the other lane. Jen doesn't seem to notice.
Though the car is dark you can see his face in the rearview mirror, and he's blushing furiously. This makes you blush, and secretly feel good and ashamed at the same time, as if you had done something naughty. Should you have put your hand on his the moment he touched your knee? You didn't really think about it at the time, more amused with his lack of recognition, but now you're plagued with self-doubt and wonder if it makes you look like a slut. Silly to worry about something like that, but you have always been overly conscious of image.
After a couple of minutes staring straight ahead Nick looks in the mirror. You make eye contact and he grins sheepishly, wordlessly apologizing, hoping you won't take him for a cad. You both share a smile over the situation; the misunderstanding, Jen's continued obliviousness.
After a few minutes Jen is so distraught she is crying. It would be sad, except Jen cries all the time. She doesn’t mean to be a drama queen, she’s just very emotional. Nick’s hand goes back to the seat, comforting her through the leather. His hand pauses, as if remembering the breach.
Without really thinking about it you move your leg in a position so that his next normal circuit will bring Nick’s hand on contact with you. When it happens he pulls away and goes higher, but you playfully slide your leg up, and then again.
After the third time he looks in the mirror again to see you smile, and realize you’ve been messing with him. A tiny laugh escapes his lips and Jen takes this the wrong way. She turns her venom on Nick and yells at him for a full five minutes. He is solicitous, but does not seem overly perturbed to be the source of her anger.
This time when his hand resumes the patterns they seem to be seeking you out. Playfully he bats your knee each time around. The fifth time he gives it a gentle squeeze. The shockwave that runs through your body gives you chills, and suddenly it’s very warm in that car.
He does it again, and again, the third time holding on to your knee for just a few seconds. The next time by he doesn’t move off, but rests his hand on your knee.
You’re torn with indecision. Jen has her problems, but she is not a bitch and has always been nice to you. On the other hand, it would take a gun to your head before you’d remove that hand from your leg. Besides, it’s not as if there’s any harm in it. Just a silly way to pass the time while Jen works out all her “issues.” It’s like arm-wrestling, if you think about it.
The hand starts to gently caress your knee through the fabric of your skirt. The sensation is soft, soothing, and possibly the greatest thing you’ve ever experienced. Your stomach does butterflies, and your neck flushes. You hope it’s too dark in the car for him to see.
Why are you reacting this way? It’s not as if a guy has never touched you before. And it’s not as if you’re in love with Nick! You’ve never met him before! What you know about Nick basically comes down to the fact that he’s cute, drives a nice car, and cannot readily distinguish a knee without looking at it. That’s as superficial as you can get. That’s how Jen picks out men!
Jen has turned up the heat, causing the windows to fog. Nick moves his hand up to the dash to make defrosting adjustments. You cannot believe how disappointed you are not to have that weight upon your leg. It’s like a part of you is gone, which is so silly a thought that you almost start crying when you realize what a girl you are, something you scoff at in other women. Next you’ll be sobbing, as bad as Jen!
When Nick’s hand comes back to the seat you’re so elated that for a moment you’re worried you may start crying over that! Angrily you chide yourself to act like an adult, but that doesn’t keep you from holding your breath as his hand makes circular motions on the seat.
When it becomes clear that he’s working his way back down to your leg you take the next step, gulping a little at what you’re about to do. Ever so slowly you pull the hem of your skirt up, over the knee and back a few inches. You feel like a total whore, but it is strangely thrilling at the same time.
Nick’s hand gets to your leg, and pauses when he finds your soft skin where he expected material. This does not deter him, though, and after a moment he starts caressing your leg softly. It’s not even really sexual, but that doesn’t stop you from getting suddenly very wet.
After a moment his hand starts to move up your leg a little. You can hardly believe it. He’s going slowly, as if at any time he could bolt, but you notice (with your mathematical mind: you are such a nerd) that every third pattern brings him half an inch or so up your leg. Quickly doing the calculations that means in six more minutes….
After three minutes you could easily die happy. You have continued to pull your skirt up ahead of his hand, on the premise that once he hits skirt he may think that’s far enough. If Nick were to look back now he could just about see your panties, but since he started this latest game his eyes have been riveted to the front.
At that moment the song “Lips of an Angel” comes on the radio. Jen bolts out of her pity party in a flash, grabbing Nick’s arm. He freezes, as you do, not breathing, but Jen is yelling, “Oh I love this song! I love this song! Turn it up!!!”
She doesn’t wait for Nick to move but does it for him, singing and gyrating along to the lyrics. The sound is deafening, as the speaker is near your ears, so you can hear every word and then some. For the first time you really listen to the lyrics:
Honey why you calling me so late
It's kinda hard to talk right now
Honey why you crying is everything okay
I gotta whisper cause I can't be too loud
Well, my girl's in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on
It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak
And I, never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel
You start to feel bad. What’s going on isn’t right. Nick shouldn’t be putting you in this position, the jerk. And what about you? Can’t rape the willing….
You vow to take his hand away. It was a fun little distraction, maybe brought on by holiday stress, the upcoming party, no one to kiss at midnight, but the time for games is past. Yes, you’re simply going to remove his hand and that’s that.
Nick starts rubbing your leg again, and all thoughts of escape fly out the window. Maybe it is bad, maybe you’ll go to hell, but you want it anyway.
As if sensing the urgency Nick picks up his pace, and is up to your panties in no time. They are soaked, a fact which would normally turn you into a mortified wreck, but now just turns you on.
Unfortunately, Nick’s decisiveness seems to have faltered, not to mention the fact that his arm can’t go back any further without coming out of his seat, and that even Jen would notice.
If you want this to go any further, it’s up to you to no longer be passive, just sit there enjoying what’s happening to you. It’s time to take control of your destiny. Or at least this car ride.
You ease your seatbelt off, wincing at the click, as if Jen could hear you over the sound of the radio and her own caterwauling. Placing your hands on either side of you, palms down for leverage, you move your torso up about a foot. Nick at first pulls back, as if you are rebuffing him, and you actually reach your hand out to grab his. You pull it back to your panty-line. Your own hand is damp on your leg, can feel the heat coming out of you, and you know he can too. With your other hand you move your panties to one side and pull his hand another inch forward.
Nick wastes no time.
He slips a finger inside you, just an inch, quickly in and quickly back out, like a man testing the water’s temperature with his toe. Satisfied no alarms or whistles are going to sound, Nick goes back inside, with more rhythm, gentle but insistent.
The force part is aided by you, with your hands back on the seat you match your hips thrusting to the stroke of his finger. Silently you will another and smile like a kid on Christmas when his middle finger joins the first. In and out. In and out. Each time there is a slight twist, as if to touch every part of you. With his fingers in the position they are he presses them upward, right there on that Spot. You almost crumple. Nick’s fingers are large, and they get the job done.
His thumb brushes past the two thrusting fingers, flicking back and forth across your lips. You see him in the mirror licking his own lips involuntarily, and you imagine that tongue on your body.
Nick’s thumb makes its way to that part you were praying it would, and starts rubbing furiously. The car has slowed down, you’re almost to the party, and you begin thrusting harder and faster, desperate for completion before arriving. Jen is still singing the last chorus of the song “Lips of an Angel” and Nick suddenly abandons all gentleness with hard almost violent thrusts.
They send you over the edge, as your legs clamp down on his hand and your muscles contract and pulse as one, holding him inside you, making it last. You bite down on your lip to keep from screaming, so hard you know there will be blood. It’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.
You’re in the neighborhood now, approaching the house, cars lined everywhere, the faint sound of pulsating speakers and dancing from within. Regretfully you release your hold on Nick, and he pulls his hand out, caressing your leg once more as he pulls away. He looks in the rearview mirror once more at you, an enigmatic look you will spend the rest of the party trying to interpret.
Nick lets you two out at the driveway and goes to find a place to park; nowhere near. Jen grabs your arm and leads you up to the door.
“Thanks for listening to me whine about everything today. You’re such a good friend.”
“I…” You can’t get the words out, but Jen is already on something else.
“Oh, we’ll have to find someone for you to kiss at midnight, since you don’t have a boyfriend. Ross might be here, or maybe that Bennett guy; he’s cute. If not I guess I can let you borrow Nick.” She lowers her voice. “He does great things with his mouth.”
“Must have the lips of an angel,” you say wryly, and reach to ring the doorbell.