The Art of Auto Negotiations - From The Awakening of Emily Series

Photo by Scott Webb

Emily kept looking in the rearview mirror at her transformed image while driving home from the beauty salon. Her hair newly styled and colored plus the bright lipstick the cosmetologist put on her lips was a look that was going to be hard to adjust to. But I like it, she told herself as she pursed her red lips in a mock kiss. She was nearly ready for the Charity Ball she would be attending that evening with some of her co-workers. She only needed to dress.

Her mind was on how this new look would impact her turning on as many men as she could tonight when her attention was abruptly diverted.

She caught a glimpse of a new, shiny red convertible, sitting on a platform at a car lot. On impulse, she turned her car into the lot, parked, and maneuvered her legs encased in her new tight jeans out the door. Her bright red heels, part of her new look, clicked on the pavement as she strutted toward that beautiful car.

“I’d get people’s attention in this, for sure,” she murmured to herself as she stared at the sleek red automobile.

She wanted it.

“Hey, beautiful! You’d look dang good in that convertible!”

Emily turned to see a tow-headed guy with a big grin on his face sauntering toward her with long slow strides. His shoulders swayed in motion with his swinging arms, making Emily think of a wolf coming in for the kill. But that didn’t matter. The look of appreciation on his face when he eyed her up and down, settling on her cleavage from her low-cut sweater outweighed his “I’m-gonna-get-me-a-sale” attitude.

Since the price was in large numbers on a placard sitting on the windshield of the car, she didn’t have to ask how much it was. But she did ask how much it would be with a trade-in for her old beige ‘boat’ that sat a few feet away, the crucifix hanging from its mirror. It looked tired, and not the kind of car a woman like her should be seen driving. At least, that’s how Emily read the look on Mr. Saleswolf’s face when he turned to see what she pointed to.

He looked back at her, then the car. There was no doubt in Emily’s mind that he didn’t think the two of them, she and the car, should ever be connected.

“That’s your car?”

The disbelief in his voice made Emily smile. She said, “It was my grandmother’s. She passed away.” The demure look Emily tried to affect got the response she’d expected.

“Oh! Your grandmother’s car,” he said with relief, then added, “Losing a gramma is hard, know what I mean?

Emily nodded. She touched his arm and said, “I know my car isn’t much, but it does have a lot of sentimental value,” she fluttered her eyelids adding, “Do you know what I mean?”

The man nodded vigorously. He sure did know what she meant, he’d told her.

Emily realized she was having fun with this transparent salesperson, who was kinda cute, in a backwoods sort of way. She gave his arm a little squeeze as she bent her head toward his and said, “What kind of deal can we make? I’d really like this car, but it hurts to give up my grandmother’s very own automobile that she dearly loved.” She shut her eyes then quickly opened them as she lifted her hand to her face to brush away imaginary tears.

“I can gar-ran-tee you the very best trade, ma’am.” He hurriedly assured her. “If you’ll come with me, I can get all the figures, and I bet we can come to terms.”

Emily marched along with him, glancing his way and smiling whenever he looked over at her. His eyes sparkled, and his grin broadened. She suspected that he actually thought he might be able to sell her on a whole lot more than a car. And that thought gave her an idea.

She put her hand on his arm to stop him. “You know, before I could make a deal, I think I need to take a ride in the car first, don’t you? I should see how it runs.”

His face fell slightly.

She quickly added, “You’d come along, wouldn’t you?”

Photo by Debby Hudson

Emily imagined she saw perked-up puppy’s ears, a tail that wouldn’t stop wagging, and a tongue that seemed to practically hang down to the ground making puddles from the drool when she planted her left hand on a cocked hip. Her very sensual stance said, ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ He seemed speechless.

She looked him up and down and saw that the front of his pants bulged out expectantly. A boner, she realized and wanted to laugh. It looks like my mission can be accomplished.

The guy cleared his throat, dropped his hands down trying to cover evidence of his reactions to this woman then turned back to look at the car on the platform with chagrin.

“You want that red one?”

“Yes, the red one, but isn’t that the same car over there?” Emily pointed to the other side of the lot where a red convertible sat at the end of the row.

“Kinda,” he stated. “It’s a little more expensive since it’s fully loaded. Auto everything - door locks, windows, you name it. Let’s drive it!” His eagerness to get her into the car was comical.

“Do the seats recline?”

“They surely do. And the stereo’s the finest on the market.” He expounded on its many virtues in hopes of making this better sale, til Emily broke in to ask, “Do you have the key?”.

“Not on me, but I’ll run and get it. Meet you over by the car,” he told her as he hightailed it to the office.

Emily shook her head; her heart was racing. She’d never been much good at flirting, yet with her new image, she wasn’t doing half bad. If I’m having this much fun with a car salesman, I’m going to have a great time tonight at the Ball! she congratulated herself.

She strutted over to the car to wait. She ran her hand gently over the top of the door, touching the smooth hot and silky paint, then looked into the interior. The creamy leather seats were also hot from the sun beating on them, but they felt buttery and soft. She imagined them caressing her rear when driving down the road with the wind blowing her hair. Oh no! My hair! She reached up protectively.

As if reading her mind, the returning sales guy said, “Don’t worry about your hair, ma’am. We probably won’t be going fast enough for it to blow much. But we could put the top up if you’d like.” That puppy dog tongue was drooling again.

She winked at him. “I’ll chance it.” She opened the door and got in.

The leather seat did feel good. Its heat burned through her jeans, but she doubted that was the cause of her feeling hot between her legs. She was ready, and it wasn’t just for a ride in a shiny, new car.

Mr. Tow-head hopped in beside her and handed over the key, then leaned back with a grin with one arm out the window and the other over the top of the seat, practically around her shoulders.

Emily didn’t mind. He was playing along nicely.

She backed out of the lot onto the street then gunned the engine, feeling it leap forward with a purr. Suddenly she didn’t care about her hair; she wanted speed.

Emily glanced over at her passenger and saw a mixture of satisfaction and eagerness on his face. She soon spotted an old warehouse that had the windows boarded up. Perfect, she thought and pulled into the lot. She drove around the building to the back where there was a large open carport that would provide shade and privacy for what she intended.

The guy next to her didn’t even ask where they were going or what they’d be doing. The puppy dog tongue was hanging out in anticipation as if the puppy was about to be fed.

Emily stopped the car and turned off the key. Before she could twist towards him, the guy practically climbed on top of her. He pulled her head around to meet the lips that were already in position and lathered her face in wet, sloppy kisses.

Emily gently pushed him away. “Hey! Slow down,” she said in a calm, soothing voice. She didn’t want to discourage his eagerness, but she needed him to know who was in control of the situation. She would call the shots. Reaching for his face, she pulled it to her, and gently kissed his lips. But when he moved into her for a more ardent lip lock, she held him back. “No, no!” She whispered, “this is my game.”

He moaned, as if in major discomfort.

When she saw that he rubbed the hardness at his crotch, she figured he might very well be in physical pain. Well, she’d just have to help him out.

Emily reached over him, brushing her breasts across his arm, and touched the recliner button on the seat. “Nice feature,” she whispered as he fell back. She slowly unzipped his fly, unsnapped his trousers, and eased her hand inside, eliciting a deep groan. She smiled when seeing that he wore boxer shorts with round, yellow smiley faces all over the fabric. I’ll give him something to smile about, she thought as she moved her hand down, and with one quick movement, freed the cramped member. He moaned loudly.

She grasped his cock, and said, “What kind of deal do I get here? Quid pro quo, you know,” while sliding her hand up and down his shaft in a slow motion.

“Anything! What do you want?”

“How about a couple of thousand off the top and an extra warranty? I’d like that,” she purred.

“Yes! Yes! I think I can get that! I promise! Please…!”

She leaned down and engulfed him with her mouth.

With eyes closed, he moved his head back and forth, moaning loudly, “Oh, God! Oh, God!” over and over as if praying; until he jerked and Emily felt the contents of him spill into her mouth and over her hand.

He sighed, his prayers answered.

She smiled. She got what she came for, but now she was ready for a bigger game.

The guy pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her to clean the semen off her face and hands. She tossed it back and started up the engine while he wiped off and got his pants back in order. She turned the car around, peeling out while spraying gravel behind them. The convertible shot out to the pavement and roared down the road. The salesman’s head lolled against the seat, a smile on his face.

Back home, Emily was thinking about her day as she repaired her make-up and looked at her hair. “Good, God!” she regarded the mess, but then smiled. “Fuck it!” It had been worth it. She’d just brush it out and let it fly.

Emily slipped on sheer black pantyhose over lacy bikini panties, confident she would make things happen at the dance in her skin-tight mini-dress, driving up in her shiny new red convertible.