I was driving, you next to me (the steering wheel on the left). I was wearing the same as yesterday: a garnet red satin mid-thigh length dress, French sleeves and a V-neck. Black thigh-high stockings, dark brown high-heeled ankle boots, and a black lace half-tanga.

“I would slip my hand between your thighs but I would be dangerous,” you said. I answered, yesss. But suddenly you slide your hand between my legs, and you leave it there still. I’m still focused on the road, but you’re cautious and don’t move.

It’s dark in a country lane. I stop in a clearing on a bend. You lead…