Hard Under the Clipboard

Peach had been “failing” her road test for three weeks on purpose.

Same instructor every time..Mark, mid-thirties, wedding ring, the kind of guy who still said “ma’am” when he was flustered. She’d booked the same slot over and over, always showing up a little later, a little wetter. Today the green shorts were the same tiny ones as usual, but she’d switched to the thinnest red g-string she owned underneath. It was basically a string and a little triangle of fabric that disappeared the second she sat down. Every time she shifted, the drawstring loosened and the red peeked out against her skin.

She could feel him looking. Clipboard resting over his lap like it was going to hide anything.

God, he’s hard already, she thought, glancing sideways through the sunglasses. Has been since I buckled in. Poor thing doesn’t even know what to do with himself.

Mark cleared his throat. “Parallel park… when you’re ready.”

She smiled, slow and sharp. “You’re cute when you try to sound in charge.”

“Both hands on the wheel.”

“Mm. Both?” She let one slip lower on the steering wheel, fingers brushing the inside of her thigh on the way down. The shorts had no chance. The red string sat right against her, thin enough that it felt like nothing. “Three weeks of you pretending not to stare at my tits every time I check the mirrors. Three weeks of you marking me down for ‘distraction’ while your cock’s been hard under that clipboard the whole time. You really think you’re the one deciding anything today?”

He didn’t answer. His pen hovered. A drop of sweat ran down his temple.

She’s got almost nothing under those shorts, his brain supplied helpfully. If she spreads her knees even an inch I’ll see that little red string and everything around it. Don’t look. Do not look.

She looked. Of course she looked. Her tongue touched the corner of her mouth.

“I was distracted by how bad I wanted to pull over somewhere quiet,” she said, voice low and steady, “and find out if that clipboard’s the only thing keeping your pants on. That little red string’s been soaked since I got in the car. So here’s how this is gonna go. You’re gonna pass me. Right now. Then you’re gonna sit there, keep your hands on that clipboard, and tell me exactly what you want to do to me once we park. And if you can’t even say it out loud…”

She reached over, slow, and flicked the pen out of his hand so it landed in his lap. She didn’t look away.

“Then I’ll just decide for you. Your only job is to sit there and try not to come in your pants before I even touch you. Understood?”