High above the rain-streaked glass wall at the west end of the suburban Atlanta dealership, the frost white numbers of the digital clock proclaimed 6:45. Dom sighed. Only 75 minutes left in this interminable shift. He finished wiping down the door handle of the silver convertible in the center of the showroom and returned to his desk for what was left of his soda.
It was slow for a Thursday evening. Probably on account of the weather. It was unusually wet for summer. And no one wanted to be out in the rain. It didn't help that inventory was a low and interest rates were higher. But their typical clientele had little use for financing anyway.
As he set the bottle on the coaster a pair of headlights flashed in the window. Outside, a large luxury SUV pulled into a guest space near the door. Dom slid into his chair and woke his computer, preparing to seem busy for the first customer in nearly an hour. The lights shut off and a horn honked, and a few moments later the showroom door swung open.
He waited for the receptionist to greet the visitor and for the footfalls to soften before looking up. Ambling toward the convertible was a figure in a red pleated tartan skirt, lightweight charcoal jacket and long blonde hair swishing across the back. The skirt cut about mid-thigh, flashing two smooth, beautifully toned legs before covering them with tall gray socks just below her knees.
He eased up from his desk and wove around it, slow and deliberate, giving her time to peruse before interrupting. By the time he made it over she had moved on the next model. He altered course, rounding the opposite side of the sedan she was peeking into.
"Welcome to Peachtree Mercedes," he said brightly. "Is there something I can help you find?"
She turned and looked at him. She was beautiful, with defined features- large eyes, pointed nose, faint freckles at the crests of her cheeks. All set on an oval face and slender neck framed by the starched collar of a white button-down. And she was young. Nineteen - maybe twenty. Far too young to afford anything in this building. She shrugged, casting a glance around the room.
"Maybe," she replied, in a gentle Georgia accent. Nothing else followed. He paused to make sure.
"Okay," he said finally. "Umm...what are you looking for?"
She eyed the convertible, then drifted around to the other vehicles, the heels of her Mary Jane's clicking across the tile. "I don't know," she answered. "Something comfortable. Roomy. Maybe some of that color-changing lighting inside."
"All right," Dom nodded, "we can work with that. What's your um...what's your budget?"
She smirked. "My father's paying for it, so...whatever. He's good for it."
Great, another bratty rich kid. Seemed like there was an endless stream of them on this side of town. They were always a pain in the ass to deal with. But their parents paid cash and never bothered to haggle, so the payoff was usually worth the headache. He forced a smile and surveyed the inventory.
"Well," he began, "over here are two of our more popular models. She followed him further inside to a spot between two silver vehicles. He pointed to his right. "This is our mid-size C-Class sedan. And this one here is our E-Class SUV. It's a little bigger than the mid-sized, but more economical than the full-size."
The young woman took her time perusing. She strolled around each, running her fingers over the paint and peering through the lightly tinted windows. Dom opened the driver's door of each. She climbed in first the car, then the SUV, settling into the seats and pinching the upholstery. Following a detailed inspection of the consoles and rear seats she slipped out of the SUV and shut the door.
"I'm going to need to drive them," she stated flatly.
"Sure. Which one?"
"We can start with the car."
"Okay. I'll need to make a copy of your license, then I'll grab the keys and a plate, and we'll find one on the lot for you."
She frowned. "You'll go with me, right?"
Dom paused, surprised by the question. Usually, the salesman was the last person customers wanted along for the ride. "Sure," he replied, "if you want." Rummaging through the purse slung over her shoulder she whipped out her license and handed it him. Excusing himself he retreated to the office.
....
Swiping the warm sheet from the photocopier he skimmed the information before dropping it in the file box. Claudia van der Hausen. His forehead wrinkled. Van der Hausen. That surname sounded familiar. But he couldn't place where he'd heard it before. Sorting through the adjacent drawer he pulled out a C-Class key, snagged a dealer plate off the hook on the wall, and headed out.
....
The rain had stopped. The air was slightly cooler. Drier. And the breeze from the tail end of the storm was quite comfortable. He led Claudia to a red sedan not far from the entrance and unlocked the doors for her while he fit the plate onto the trunk. When he finished, he popped the rear passenger door and ducked inside. Claudia's head whipped around, her face dark.
"What are you doing," she chided.
"Well," Dom replied, surprised, "usually customers want the driving experience to themselves.
She nodded toward the empty front seat. "Just sit up here. You need to explain all the features."
He shrugged. The customer was always right, right? "Certainly," he agreed. He wheeled around, shut the rear door, and slipped into the front.
Twisting to fasten his seat belt, he noticed Claudia's skirt riding high up her thighs. Another inch or two and.... He snapped his eyes forward and settled in the seat, hoping she hadn't caught him peeking. "It's a push button start," he offered. "Just hit the center of that little ring there and we're ready to go."
Claudia obeyed and the engine purred to life. The dash lit up with dials and graphics. The climate control kicked on and a faint white glow filled the footwells and illuminated the soft surfaces. She nodded thoughtfully. Adjusting the seat forward a touch she slipped the shifter into gear. The car rolled forward off the lot into light traffic.
