It was 2:20PM and I had almost worn a hole through the paint in the spot I was washing. I decided to dry what was left of the paint, as I waited. I felt slightly sick when thoughts of her not showing up crossed rudely through my mind. Then the rational part of me agreed that those thoughts were probably correct. I stared into the shining fender only to see a disappointed face looking back at me.A flash of white flickered in my peripheral vision, as did an electric spark in my heart. She was here, parking in the next wash bay. I was trying to swallow my heart as she hopped out of her car, smiling a strangely familiar smile. I guess it was a crooked little grin more than it was a smile. My only response was to grin back, as a flood of choices crossed my mind. There was also an unknown memory that stabbed me in my center. An unknown memory attached to a crooked little grin.I considered my choices. I could turn and run like I did in the fifth grade. I could let lust take over and kiss. As if hearing my thought, Lissa suggested gently, "Marie, hold yourself open so he can get in there better -- use your hands, that's it."Marie cooperated and, laying her index fingers on either side of her slit on the puffy mons, spread herself accommodatingly, allowing her knees to slacken further open as well. The clit projected itself a slight bit further from its hood, but Lissa, seeing the issue I was confronting almost instinctively, said to me, "use your finger to pull back the hood first, so it's sticking out."God -- knowing the intense sensations I must be causing the young woman had my own heart leaping wildly, as if in sympathy. I pressed my middle finger to the spot above the clitoris that I knew from some experience would pull back the hood and cause the clit to fully distend. Then I lay the tip of the tape measure in along it and the bright pink tip only reached the slightly arched end of the curve of the metal nub at the tape's end. "One quarter inch, maybe three.
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