Lust Lies And Auto Theft

I nearly swerved into a light pole when her head popped up in the rear-view mirror.

"Please don't steal my car," she said. "It's all I have."

I pulled over. It was nearly midnight so the downtown shops crowding the street were closed and no one was on the sidewalk. Switching on the inside lights, I turned around.

She was in the cargo area behind the rear seats, her hair mussy, blinking and rubbing her eyes. She couldn't have been more than 25, with dusky skin, thick eyebrows and huge dark eyes. Indian? Latina? Mixed? Hard to say.

I cursed myself for being so careless. I didn't boost cars often, but a call had gone out for that specific make, model, and year, meaning it would bag me twice the usual 'finder's fee'. So when I walked by one downtown, I got excited. I skipped my usual check of looking through the tinted windows with a flashlight before unlocking it with my key fob gizmo.

Stretching up to look in the rear, I saw a thin sleeping bag, a knapsack and snack food wrappers scattered around.

"You're sleeping in your car?" I said.

She nodded wearily, then roll-flopped over the back of the rear seats. She sat up in the seat on the passenger side. Her clothes were noticeably worn.

"I can't afford anything else," she said, smoothing out her dark hair and fixing me with her baleful eyes. "If you steal my car, I'll be sleeping on the street. Please. I don't have any money, but I could, uh... I could..."

She looked pointedly through the gap between the front seats towards my crotch then turned her head, blinking back tears, bottom lip trembling.

I sighed. Everyone said I was too soft-hearted to be a criminal. I knew it. That's why I stole cars only when I needed to, and only from those who deserved it. The SUV had been in front of an expensive, very trendy little restaurant that was still open, the sounds of merriment coming from inside. I figured anyone who ate there could afford to lose their car until their insurance got them a newer one.

"Okay, okay," I said. "I never steal from people worse off than me. You know, if you sold this car, you'd get enough money to rent a place for maybe a year."

"You need a car in this city," she said with a sniffle. "Public transit is a joke, and it's way too sprawling to walk to work."

"What do you do?"

She pulled a rumpled tissue from her sleeve and wiped her nose. "Right now? Clean houses. Lots are way on the outskirts of town."

That was when her odor hit me. It wasn't strong, but she had that distinctive scent of someone who had gone too long between showers and doing laundry. She must have noticed the face I made because she opened her window half-way, letting in the chilly night air.

"Sorry," she muttered, looking down. "Usually, I can sneak a shower and do my clothes at one of the houses, but that has to wait until Monday."

I sighed again. I knew better. Really, I did. But she was so cute and looked so miserable. "If you want," I said, "you can shower at my place. And I have a washer and dryer."

When her face darkened, I held up my hands. "I won't touch you, I swear. I'm a thief, but I don't abuse women. I promise. And when's the last time you ate real food?" I glanced at the candy and chip wrappers littering the back of the car. "I don't have much at my place, but I could order a pizza or something."

"Why would you do that for me?" she said, eyes narrowing.

"Because there were times I was homeless, too. Without the luxury of a car to sleep in. It was fucking brutal. I remember every time someone gave me too much money or bought me a meal or let me crash on their couch for a night. I try to return the favor when I can."

She studied me, unconvinced.

I shrugged. "Okay then. Suit yourself. I'll get out here. You can have your car back."

When I popped open the door, she said, "Wait! D-do you live far?"

"I have an apartment on the East side of town. Nothing fancy, but there are plenty of neighbors. It's not some creepy old house in the woods with bodies buried in the cellar or anything."

She forced a smile.

Again, she studied me, wheels in her head turning. I understood exactly what she was going through—I'd been in similar situations when I was on the street and got offered a meal or place to stay. Was the person really being kind, or were they after something?

I learned quickly to read people. And this girl, I was sure, wasn't telling me everything, but was mostly being honest. Plus, she had none of the signs she was a druggy, or nuts.

"Do you like pineapple on pizza?" she asked.

"I fucking hate it," I said. "But we can get it on your half if you want."

She smiled and shook her head. "Hell no. I hate it too. I think we're going to get along just fine."

~~~~

I drove since I knew the way to my place. We chatted. Her name was Gabriella and had moved to the city two years before from a little town down south. She had been living in her car for six months after being 'renovicted' from her little apartment downtown so the owner could turn the building into pricey condos.

"I don't get why you'd want to steal my car," she said. "It's five years old and very middle of the pack, you know?"

"It's a reliable make," I said. "About number 12 of the top stolen cars this year, last time I looked. I don't understand exactly how it works, but sometimes Lisbon—that's my fence. You'll never guess where he's from originally— he'll put out a call for a specific make, model and range of years that someone overseas is hot for. It's never brand-new stuff and never the luxury makes. Whatever it is, he'll pay sometimes double the usual rate. You need to be careful with your car right now, 'cause he's paying more than double for this exact make, model and year."

Once in my apartment, she stood by the door, arms hugging her knapsack, looking small and uncertain. I wanted so much to hug her and tell her everything was okay, but knew to keep my distance.

I said, "I know it's hard to trust anyone, but I'm really just trying to help. Look, why don't you have a shower while I order the pizza? The bathroom door can be unlocked from outside, but..." I grabbed a kitchen chair. "You can wedge this against it from inside. I won't be able to open it. Not that I'm going to try. Just don't shoot up in there or do anything that will make you pass out, because I'd seriously have to kick the door off the hinges to help you."

"I drink beer sometimes and that's it," she said. "Never drugs."

She took the chair into the bathroom, along with her knapsack. Before locking the door, she pulled a plastic bag of dirty clothes from the knapsack then tossed out the clothes she had been wearing while I stood by the windows way on the far side of the apartment.

After putting her clothes in my apartment's little washer, I set out plates and paper napkins on the coffee table, tuned the TV to a music video station, and opened a beer.

The pizza arrived just as the sound of my blow dryer came from the bathroom. Everything was ready on the coffee table when she stepped out.

She looked radiant—hair brushed, her smooth, tawny skin glowing. She had an almost dreamy expression as she stood there wrapped in a spare bathrobe.

"That was wonderful," she said. "Thank you."

"You weren't in there long. Want a beer?"

She nodded and while I fetched one, she said, "are you kidding? That was the longest shower I've had in a year. I have to be in and out in seconds when I sneak one at the houses I clean."

Settling on the couch, we clinked our beers and dug into the pizza.

We ate, sipped, and watched the mindless music videos.

After a while she said, "I don't get it."

"Get what?"

"This is an okay apartment, but you steal cars for a living. You can't afford something a bit more—I don't know—posh?"

"This place is all I need," I said. "Plus, people with unexplained incomes shouldn't draw attention by living the high life, you know? And I don't steal for a living. I only do it when I need to. I have a regular job."

I gestured to the desk by the window where my computer and triple monitors sat.

"I do graphic design and websites and sometimes slide decks," I said. "All small projects I get through freelance bidding sites. It pays just enough to cover living expenses."

"You don't want to get a job with a big company?"

"Would if I could. I have a record. Freelance is the best I can get. Listen, I know it's hard on the street, but whatever you do, don't get a conviction. When I was 20 and stupid, I got caught stealing a TV. It ruined my life."

"Okay," she said, "so what do you do with the money from the cars?"

"It goes to my sister. She was born... well, she needs 24-hour care. Way more than I can provide. One car can pay for six months where she is. Some of it I invest. In about three years, it'll finally be big enough to turn into a self-sustaining trust fund for her. Then I won't have to steal. It'll be a new life for me."

Gabriella looked doubtful. "That sounds like a made-up story."

I nodded. "It sure does." Grabbing my phone, I showed her selfies with my sister, videos of birthday and Christmas celebrations, and wheeling her around in gardens.

"She looks a lot like you."

"That's what everyone says. Funny thing is, she has a different father."

"What?"

"Our mother, uh, liked to party."

"Mine too. I was mostly raised by my older brother. We have the same father, though. It would've been better if our father was a different guy."

We drank and slowly revealed more of our fucked-up childhoods and our terrible life choices. Gabriella, like me, was a realist, and made no excuses for herself or rage against her upbringing.

Gabriella wasn't conventionally pretty. She had an oddly shaped face, some pock marks from teenage acne, and it looked like her nose had been broken at some time. Taken together, however, with her animated way of talking—hands waving, her thick eyebrows rising in humor or falling in a scowl—she was uniquely lovely.

I found that also like me, she hadn't given up. She said she was saving up and when she had enough would move to another city where she had a girl friend to move in with and would start life over.

"To starting life over," I said, and we sipped our beer.

"So how did you do it?" she asked. "How'd you get into my car and start the engine? I would have heard right away if you used a slim jim to unlock it. Then hot wiring takes a lot of time. I heard one beep and by the time I raised my head, you were already driving away."

"New cars are a lot easier than old ones," I said. "With the right hardware, you can unlock and start the engines on most cars by cloning the key fob."

I fetched my laptop bag and showed her the device, explaining how it could intercept the code when it was transmitted from the key fob to the car.

"And everyone clicks their fob at bedtime to make sure their car is locked," I said.

Next, I showed her how the device could also run through every possible code in seconds, then the other device that plugged into the diagnostic port under the dash to start the engine.

"Amazing," she said. "I thought new cars were harder to steal."

"Way easier," I said. "The old ways can still work, but it's slower and you need to bust open the steering column to hot wire."

When the washing machine completed its cycle, I got up and put her clothes in the dryer and returned with more beer for us both.

When I laid back on the couch and put my feet on the coffee table, Gabriella did the same. Her bare tawny legs looked toned and delicious.

"Thank you for this," she said. "This is the first time I've been able to relax at night since I got evicted."

"I know what it's like," I said. "When I was on the street, I was scared all the time. Hungry most of the time."

"Ever get into weird situations?"

I chuckled. "Oh, sure. You know how it is. You follow someone home who seems okay only to find out what they're really after is sex, or to sell you their religion or ask you to do some indescribably weird thing to them."

Gabriella nodded knowingly. "Yeah. I've been through all that. Had this old couple once—they had to have been well into their 60s—invite me home to use their spare bedroom for the weekend. This was winter, so it didn't take much convincing."

"And they wanted you to be a third, right?"

She laughed. "Yeah. To be their unicorn. I like older guys, but he was

too

old. I was at the dining room table finishing eating and they both showed up wearing these leather harness outfits. With the metal rings and studs and stuff. That was the first time I'd seen a pierced cock."

"Uh, how exactly..."

"Oh, you don't want to know," she said, shaking her head. "I don't want to kink shame, and good for them for still getting it on at that age, but what he had done seemed kinda, uh, impractical."

She turned to face me, the top of her robe widening to reveal the curve of her breasts.

"Do you have any piercings?" she said, looking me up and down.

"Never felt the need. And when you're a thief, you want to be as unidentifiable as possible. No visible tattoos, piercings... none of that."

Gabriella moved closer, her robe falling open even more. She wet her bottom lip.

"Smart," she said. "Want to check if I have any?" Her hands went to the belt of her robe.

"Hey," I said. "You don't have to do that. I didn't invite you here for that."

"I know," she said. "But know what? I'm warm and safe, ate some excellent pizza, and had a few beers. For the first time in a year, I'm not terrified. Don't have to worry police will wake me up and tell me to move on. No scumbag trying to steal my wheels or saw off my catalytic converter or break in." She reached over and touched my arm. "You're the nicest guy I've met in a long time. And you've got a super sexy 'gentleman thief' look. But can I tell you something? I came here kind of hoping..." She swallowed. "This sounds really slutty... I hoped you'd really be a good guy and we could, uh, have some fun. Because... I like you. I really do. And I haven't had any... fun... in over a year."

Belt undone, Gabriella shucked her arms out of the robe letting it fall to her waist. She looked at me from under her thick brows, vulnerable but hopeful. Even with her dusky skin, her cheeks turned rosy as she blushed.

Her breasts were medium-sized, round and heavy, jutting forward in that gravity-defying way of younger women. Her small nipples stood erect as though eager for my mouth.

She put her hand behind my neck, her eyes boring into mine.

"If I've read you right," she said, "you're going to protest and act chivalrous, deny that you want me and that we've just met and don't know each other enough for this. If I've read you right, I think you haven't had any fun for a long time, either. And, if I've read you right, I think you have the patience and experience to be really good in bed."

She pulled me in for a kiss. Our lips touched lightly, letting me taste her and feel the warm softness of her mouth, before we pressed closer, teasing and plucking each other's lips. I slid one hand behind her neck and placed the other on her shoulder, the touch of her warm smooth skin electric.

We kissed longer and then she pulled back.

"I want to watch your face when you come inside me."

~~~~

I knew better. Really, I did. But she was right: it had been a long time. She was so sweet and needy, felt so wonderful. As we kissed and began caressing each other everywhere, the heady scent of her rising arousal reached me, and I was lost. I needed her. I was going to take her. Many, many times.

Standing, I pulled her to her feet, letting her robe fall to the floor, leaving her naked. She was perfectly shaped, hips wider than I expected. Lower, I was happy to see she was neatly trimmed but not bare.

Gabriella smiled and did a saucy little spin to let me check all of her out.

"You like?" she said, giving me a playful look from over her shoulder.

Her ass was impossibly round and firm. I stepped close, running my hands over both globes and up her back, then embraced her from behind, holding and caressing her heavy breasts.

"I like," I said, whispering in her ear. "You're beautiful. I've never met anyone like you. But you do

not

have to do this."

"Try and stop me," she said in a breathy sigh. She held my hands to her breasts and made deep "mmm" sounds" as I planted light kisses along her shoulders and the curve of her neck.

When I nibbled her ear, Gabriella squeaked and squirmed, pulling my arms tight around her. She then turned in my arms, smiled then pecked my lips before taking my hand and dragging me to the bedroom.

I pulled off my shirt while Gabriella worked to undo my pants. She crouched as she pulled them down until they were puddled around my ankles and she was on her knees.

She looked up with her big dark eyes and wrapped her hand around my cock.

"You definitely don't need to do that," I said as she began stroking my shaft. "I'm already as hard and ready for you as I can get."

"Just a little taste?" she said in a pleading tone. "I really love doing it. I know most girls think it's a chore they have to do to please their man, but..." she kissed and then licked all around the rim of the head. "I love having a cock in my mouth almost as much as having one in my pussy."

She took the head between her lips bobbing just the tip in and out of her warm wet mouth while swirling her tongue. I had to grip the night stand behind me as my knees nearly buckled from the sensation. Blowjobs had never been my thing, but Gabriella was very very good at it.

She began taking me deeper and deeper into her mouth while stroking the base of the shaft with one hand and lightly caressing the underside of my balls with the other. The mixed sensations of her tonguing and sucking my shaft while gliding fingertips feather light over my balls was electrifying.

Getting my balls a light squeeze, she moved a hand behind me and began raking her nails over my ass while she pressed forward and opened her mouth to take my cock into her throat.

I had never been deep throated before and nearly lost it right there. Gabriella seemed to sense that and gripped the base of my shaft tight while pressing her thumb up against the underside of my balls, containing and quelling my near orgasm.

She repeated this several times: stroking then squeezing my balls while tonguing, sucking and pumping my cock, then caressing and raking her nails over my ass while deep throating me. All the while she kept her piercing eyes locked on mine, shining and lustful.

After edging me for the fourth time, she sat back on her haunches, one hand still stroking the base of my glistening shaft.

"That was really fun," she said, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "Thank you. You have a wonderful cock. And if you make those expressions from a blowjob, I can't wait to see your face when you fill me with your come."

Helping her to her feet, I embraced her, feeling her warm nakedness pressed against mine for the first time. She felt perfect in my arms. Resting her head under my chin, she guided my iron cock between her legs, pushing the top of my shaft between her steamy slick pussy lips. Instinctively, I made small thrusts while she thrust back, angling her hips then gasping each time my cock slid across her excited clit.

"You're absolutely incredible, Gabriella. I want to taste you. I want you to orgasm all over my face before I fuck you."

Our thrusts were increasing, and Gabriella's expression was becoming more needy.

"I will. I want that. But I need you to fuck me now. I want you inside me right now. Please."

We threw the covers off the bed and lay beside each other, kissing hungrily and caressing each other everywhere. I loved her firm breasts—how they filled my hand perfectly and how she gasped and sighed when I drew my palm across her hard nipples. I trailed a hand down across her flat tummy, caressing her there as her hips rose and churned while she gripped and stroked my shaft.