Susy admired herself in the full-length mirror. She turned on the balls of her feet and gazed over her shoulder. The crooked little smile and the twinkle in her big brown eyes showed she liked what she saw.
Her brown hair lay soft on her shoulders. Her breasts were unencumbered by a bra. The sleeveless, white blouse fit tight around her rib cage, lifting and displaying those orbs. The two top buttons were open to "let her breasts breathe," as she liked to say.
The red skirt came to mid thigh. It fit like a glove, displaying shapely legs in sheer stockings. She wore red flats; heels made it hard to drive. With a self-satisfied smile, she grabbed her purse and trotted out the door, ready and eager for her adventure.
In the garage, she twisted the key in the ignition. The mighty 350 inch V-8 of her Camaro sprang to life. Letting the engine warm, she hummed as she snugged leather driving gloves over her fingers. She slipped on Ray-Ban aviator sunglasses before lowering the top of the convertible. The sun was low in the sky, about two hours before dark. The day was still bright. There was plenty of time.
Her right hand dropped to the gearshift and eased the Camaro into reverse. With a flip of her hair, she looked back as she backed into the street. She loved the feel of the car under her. Its vibrations made her tingle when she revved the mighty engine and the straight pipes sounded their thunder. She loved to control this mighty beast, making it jump or turn, shudder or stop, with a turn of her wrist or thrust of her foot.
In the street, she shifted to first. At the corner, she turned onto a major street. She smiled when the men driving by the other way slowed to gawk at her. With ease and competence, she worked her way through town. She was at a light when two high school boys in an old Ford pickup pulled up beside her.
"Hey, hot stuff! Where ya' goin'?" one of the teenagers hollered at her. He leaned out the window, leering at her. Susy gunned the Camaro and challenged them with her look. She laughed as the truck screeched away when the light changed. She turned right and headed for the city limits. She knew exactly where she was going.
There was a road leading out of town. After the last stoplight, the road was straight as an arrow for a long stretch. There were no homes or businesses out there, just a Shell station on the corner with a convenience store next to it.
It was The Strip. On Saturday nights, The Strip was the place to be if you were a teenager. The boys were all there: flexing their mechanical muscles; puffing their internal combustion egos. The girls came, too. They wanted the thrills. They wanted to be where the boys were. They came and watched and giggled, and necked if they wanted.
Except Susy. Susy went to race. She did it all herself: the overhaul, the preparation, the driving.
"Why, I don't know how I beat you tonight, Caleb," she would say when it was over, her smile sweet and innocent. She said it every Saturday night to the Calebs and the Juniors and the others. On the rare occasion when she missed a gear or the rod wasn't right, she was gracious in defeat. Externally. Internally, she boiled and vowed to beat them next time.
"Susy honey," her father would say when she arrived home covered in sweat and grease. "I wish your mother were alive. You're growing up more boy than girl."
"Oh, Daddy, look at me. I'm all girl. I'll find the man I want someday. Right now, I'm taking their pocket money on The Strip. Anyway, Daddy, I love the speed. It's in my blood."
"It's the speed I worry about, honey," her father had said, his voice full of concern.
After The Strip, the road curved to the west. It was a fun curve when you drove it like Susy. You came over the hill by the Anderson place. Now - opposite the water tower - hit the brakes hard - downshift into fourth - then third. The engine screamed when the clutch popped. Accelerate through the curve. Up shift. Let it fly! After several more curves, the road straightened again before the sweeping curve where it crossed the county line. Susy loved to drive that road.
Susy stopped at the last red light. Her eyes scanned the corner. The cruiser was at the convenience store. She gunned the engine. It shook like a stallion panting for the mares. She squirmed in her seat, making the skirt ride up her legs. Cars from the other direction slowed, telling her the light was ready to change. She took a deep breath. Her eyes gleamed in anticipation.
Green! Her shapely right foot jammed the Camaro accelerator to the floor. Tires screeched, digging into the asphalt. Shift into second. She was gone.
Deputy Sheriff David Leonard was in his Crown Vic police cruiser in the parking lot of the convenience store. He saw the woman in the convertible. She made his heart skip a beat. Then, he heard the roar of an engine and saw a flash of red go by. He shifted into gear and hit the siren. The Camaro had two hundred yards on him and was pulling away when the Crown Vic spun onto the road in pursuit. He shoved the accelerator to the floor and yanked the seat belt tight over his lap.
Susy glanced in the rear view mirror. She saw the swirling red and blue lights atop the patrol car behind her. With a laugh and a toss of her long hair, she dropped the Camaro into fifth, and, jammed her foot to the floor. The V-8 screamed as the fence posts flashed by.
"Deputy Leonard, report," came the routine call over the police radio.
"In pursuit of a red Camaro convertible westbound on county road one one six, Mabel," the deputy replied.
"Do you need backup?" asked Mabel, the dispatcher.
"Negative, dispatch," Deputy Leonard replied as he felt a blush cross his face.
Sheriff Merriweather scowled as he stood by Mabel's desk listening to her conversation with his deputy. His brooding black eyes were angry as he strode to his office for his hat. He saw Mabel and her assistant watching him out of the corners of their eyes as he headed for the exit.
"Should I tell the deputy you're going to join them?" Mabel asked.
The sheriff spun his bulk on the toe of his boot. He glowered at Mabel, giving her his dirtiest look. Mabel tried not to smile.
"Negative, Mabel," he snapped before he charged out to the parking lot.
"Damn! That woman can drive," Deputy Leonard thought appreciatively as the Camaro slowed for the curve by the Anderson place.
The Crown Vic seemed to be gaining, but it was an illusion. The Camaro blew through the curve; it'd gained fifty yards. Next curve coming up. The deputy watched as the Camaro slipped perfectly through the curve and pulled away again.
"Where's she going?" the deputy wondered as he remained in hot pursuit.
He saw the Camaro slow and almost caught it before it turned up the gravel road toward the abandoned Williams' house. The Camaro bumped ahead of him until it pulled into a small clearing under some oak trees.
The deputy turned off the siren and parked his cruiser to block the convertible. When he exited the car, he adjusted his trousers to ease the pressure on his erection. As he strode to the Camaro, the woman sat quietly with both hands on the steering wheel.
She turned in the seat, drawing her left leg up under her. Her left arm rested on the door. The skirt was to her thigh tops. He gasped as his eyes tried to simultaneously take in her breasts and the white panties. He stifled a groan.
"Is something wrong, deputy?" she purred.
She batted her eyes at him shamelessly. She let them wander over his chest, past the narrow waist to his crotch. Openly, she stared at his erection. What a hunk, she thought.
"What the hell are you doing?" Deputy Leonard asked in exasperation.
"Aren't you going to ask for my license and registration?" Susy asked innocently.
"Well, yeah. License and registration, please," the Deputy said with a grin. The light was dawning on him.
"Deputy, I don't have a license," Susy replied in a shy, sexy voice.
"Out of the car, miss."
Susy opened the door. Leisurely, seductively, she swung her legs out. One shapely leg extended, her ankle sliding down his calf. Her eyes never left his face. His eyes never left her legs. She stood and wiggled, pulling the tight skirt down again. Head down, she turned her big, brown, eyes upward submissively.
"Am I going to be arrested?" she whispered.
Deputy Leonard licked his parched lips.
"Well, evading the police is an arresting offense. Maybe we can work something out," he said, his voice tight with desire.
"Oh, could we? I'd be grateful. Really."
"How grateful?" the deputy asked. He was pleased his tone was a neutral, commanding, police voice again.
"Very grateful - as long as my husband doesn't find out," she said so softly.
"Oh? Are you one of those women who screw around?"
"No, but I find you so sexy," she whispered as she leaned into him, letting her breasts crush against his chest. She raised her head and nibbled on his neck.
"You're a hot little number, aren't you?" he replied as his hands dropped to squeeze her ass. He was rough with her, digging his fingers in, feeling the firm muscle twitch under his hands. She pushed her crotch against him.
"For a big, strong, cop like you, I'm burning up," she moaned, as she drove her tongue into his mouth, both hands holding his head against hers.
Deputy Leonard held her hard against him, feeling her heat, feeling her squirm. She moved away, her hands on his belt. Her eyes burned as she stared at him. He yanked the blouse back over her shoulders, pinning her arms, freeing her breasts. He tweaked her nipples.
She sobbed; her eyelids fluttered. He pulled her rich, brown hair back, arching her over the Camaro's bright red hood. He hesitated, looking at her there: her breasts bared for him, her hair wild around her. But it was her face that drove him insane. He saw her desire, her need. She whimpered. Greedily, he lowered his head to her breast. Hungrily, he sucked a nipple into his mouth.