Mike and Betty Tompkins was a couple in their thirties. Their young daughter, Charlene, was an eighteen-year-old young nubile, who had just graduated from high school. She preferred her nick name, "Charlie," to her real name. Tom was a computer software engineer and Betty was unemployed, but looking for work. As we chatted, Charlie disappeared into the house and I only caught a glimpse of her as she darted up the sidewalk.
A few days passed and I glanced out my office window to see Charlie leaning in the window of a car parked in front of her house. Her shorts – her very short shorts – revealed more of what I probably shouldn't have seen than I care to admit. I was mesmerized. She was all legs, long, slender, well-toned legs. I watched as she stood with a hand on her hip, finishing up her conversation with her friends. They drove off as Charlie stood and watched. She turned and as she walked back towards her house, she waved in my direction. I had been caught.
A few days later, I was working on my car, changing the oil, when a pair of sandals appeared next to where I was laying on my back, underneath my car. I was tightening up the drip pan plug. I looked again and Charlie was on her knees peering under the car at me. I could see all the way down her button-down shirt and then some. I’m pretty sure the nipple flash was not on purpose.
“Could you do mine, next?” Charlie asked, peering at me.
I rolled out from under my car, my hands black with grease and a smudge on my face.
“Could I do what?” I asked.
“Change my oil?” Charlie repeated, taking up a squatting position next to me. Her shorts were way to short and I could very easily make out the edges of her pink panties. I tried to focus on her question. It was hard.
“Sure,” I replied. I grabbed a rag and wiped my hands.
Charlie smiled.
“I would appreciate it,” Charlie remarked, “I am just not very mechanically inclined. Dad is always gone and my boyfriend, well, let’s just say he is not the brightest bulb in the box. He’s okay, just not very mechanically inclined.”
Charlie sat back on her butt and pulled her ankles up towards her very cute ass. I glanced at the space between her legs from my position. She looked down and readjusted her shorts.
“I’m glad I remembered to put on underwear,” she remarked, readjusting her shorts. “These shorts are a bit tight.”
I had to laugh.
“So why do you wear them?” I asked.
“They’re my favorite,” Charlie responded.
“I can see why,” I remarked. Charlie eluded sex appeal. I don’t think she did it on purpose.
“Does it bother you that guys stare at your ass?” I asked.
“Nah,” Charlie responded. “I like it.”
“Ahhhh, a teaser,” I joked.
“Nope,” Charlie responded, “I am the real deal.”
Charlie was saying all the right things to peak my interests and her provocative attire was almost more than I could stand. Her “real deal” comment was like a challenge. I couldn’t help but respond with a bit of sarcasm.
“So you’re the “real deal’?” I inquired. “Time will tell if that is true or not.”
Charlie leaned forward and smiled.
“You want me, don’t you?”
“I don’t have times for games,” I replied.
“No games,” Charlie replied. “I’m a virgin. I can wait.”
Holy shit! Did she say she was a virgin? I decided right then and there, I was going to burst her cherry, one way or another.
I looked at Charlie and remarked, “You keep wearing shorts like that and you may very well lose your virginity sooner than later.”
Charlie smiled.
“When the time is right, I won’t care,” she replied. “When the time is right. . .”
I wiped my hands and picked up the empty oil containers. Charlie leaned against the front fender of my car, her long legs crossed at the ankles, watching me as I worked. I looked at Charlie and smiled.
“So are we going to do mine, next?” she asked.
I hadn’t planned on it, but I found myself giving in.
“Sure,” I remarked.
She popped the hood on the family sedan – a Honda Accord. I took out my shop jack and Charlie watched as I positioned it under her car. I started pumping down on the handle.
As the front tires started to lift off the ground, Charlie asked, “Can I do that?”
I took a step back and let her try and push down on the jack handle, but didn’t go all the way down.
“Lesson one,” I remarked, emphasizing my last three words, “If you’re going to do it right, you have to go ALL THE WAY DOWN.”
Charlie looked at me and smiled.
“All the way down,” she repeated.
“Yes,” I said, “All the way down.”
The innuendo was not lost on either of us. Charlie pushed the jack handle as far down as it would go and the car went up a small notch. She turned and smiled.
“All the way down,” she remarked.
I placed my undercarriage dolly right behind the front wheel.
“Now the dirty work,” I remarked. “We have to take the plug out.”
“Take the plug out,” Charlie repeated.
“Yes, I replied, “Take the plug out.”
She looked at me for additional directions.
“You have to lie down on the dolly and roll under the car to do it,” I remarked.
“Oh,” Charlie responded, looking down at the dolly.
She took up a position on the dolly, on her back, her tanned legs stretching out in front of me. I took up the same position beside her on the cement slab, an adjustable wrench in hand. I worked my way up under the car, as Charlie rolled under it, beside me. Finding the drain plug, I sized the wrench to the plug, and then handed the wrench to Charlie. I positioned the drain pan to catch the spillage.
“Which way do I turn?” she asked.
“Counter clockwise to loosen and clockwise to tighten,” I replied. She dutifully repeated everything I told her.
I handed her the wrench.
“Other direction,” I instructed.
The oil leaked from the plug before she had it removed. It spilled all over her hands and down her arm.
“Yuck!” she remarked, “I didn’t know it was this messy.”
“That is what rags are for,” I replied. “Take the plug all the way out.”
“All the way out?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “All the way out… let it drop in the drain pan.”
I scrunched out from under the car, and Charlie Started to follow on the dolly.
“Hold up,” I instructed, “wait for all the oil to drain. When it stops, I will need you to put the plug back in.”
I stood beside the car.
“Are you having fun?” I heard her ask.
“Fun?” I inquired.