Ford Escort

12 - Torture

Mr. Ford wordlessly reached up to press the garage door remote clipped onto his visor, his eyes still trained on my hands as the large metal door slid closed behind us. I had his complete, undivided attention as I removed Ava's sweatshirt and ran my hands down my scarcely clothed torso.

I didn't have the body of a supermodel, but I was in decent shape and my skin was still clinging to my West Coast summer tan. My breasts were at least a half size bigger than Ava's, the sports bra I had borrowed was visibly struggling to hold me. Even with the sun shining outside, there was a chill in the dim garage and my nipples were easy to spot through the stretched fabric.

The spark in his eyes turned fiery as I slipped my thumbs up under the straps, tugging them downwards as slowly as I could. I had never been much for teasing, guys my age didn't tend to like it, they much preferred getting what they wanted as quickly as possible. There was something so empowering about watching Mr. Ford's jaw clench as he struggled to remain composed. He wanted me, and it was intoxicating.

"You're exquisite." He whispered, his gaze tracing the curves of my body.

"Thank you, Mr. Ford." I pulled the straps of my bra a little further down, dangerously close to exposing my entire chest.

"You can call me Peter."

I leaned over towards him, being careful not to move too quickly at the risk of spilling completely out of Ava's bra. My breasts pressed against his arm as I put my cheek to his, my lips brushing against his ear.

"No, I don't think I will." I breathed.

I leaned back into my seat, slipping my straps back up onto my shoulders and fighting a smug grin at the tortured look on his face. Without another word I opened my door and stepped out into the garage, intentionally leaning back down, slowly, to grab the sweatshirt off my seat.

"You coming?" I asked, mocking his coy tone.

He grinned, looking both pleased and defeated as he climbed out of the car and led me to the door. I slipped the sweatshirt back on as we made our way inside, grateful that no one seemed to pay us any mind as Mr. Ford and I made our way down the hall. I kept my eyes straight ahead as we neared his study, expecting us to simply part ways, but he reached out to grab my wrist and finally, I looked back at him.

"Come see me before you leave today." It wasn't exactly a request, but his voice held a hint of pleading.

"Yes, Mr. Ford."

*****

I spent a few hours out in the yard with Margaret and Beatrice, playing fetch and working on teaching them new commands before learning that they knew more commands than I did. Eventually, I headed back toward the house for a break, I had originally agreed to a few hours in the morning and a few in the evening, but not having a vehicle made it hard to just leave and come back later. I had decided to just take a break inside the house and come back out in an hour or two, maybe in the future I could bring a book or dig my somewhat abandoned art supplies out of my closet and work on some sketches.

As I neared the back patio, both dogs in tow, I spotted the gardener weeding the flowerbeds near the steps. Margaret and Beatrice both broke out into a run and jumped up on him before I could stop them.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry!" I called, running up after them and pulling them back, "I don't know how they still have this much energy."

"It's alright." He laughed, standing and brushing the dirt from his jeans, "I'm used to them."

"Are you here every day?" I asked, flinging a tennis ball off into the distance, sending both dogs hurtling across the lawn.

"Pretty much." He shrugged, "There's a lot to manage."