Car Wash

Alexa Nicole steps out, long hair dark against the sunlight. She circles her car in nothing but a thin shirt and shorts that cling from the start. Water runs in rivers down the hood, the same path it takes down her thighs, and she follows it with slow, sure hands. Each swipe of the sponge presses her shirt tighter, nipples hard now, the wet fabric outlining everything she has. She leans across the windshield, ass lifted, shorts riding up until the lower curves of her cheeks show. The sponge drops. Her fingers slide under the waistband instead, knuckles moving in a steady rhythm while the hose keeps spitting water at her feet. She braces one palm on the warm metal, hips rolling into her own touch, breath fogging a small circle on the glass. When her knees start to shake she doesn't stop; she presses harder, mouth open, eyes half-closed, until the car hood trembles under her grip and the water keeps running over both of them.