03

(The first three chapters are not specifically erotic, as I want to lead into the actual sex after some exposition. Hope you enjoy and please, any feedback welcome)

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Chapter One

Bill Walker was one of the oldest hands at the DVLA office in Liverpool, and was usually asked by the head of the examining team to come in for a few extra shifts because of his ability to make the new driver's exams go quicker. At 45 years of age and with 20 odd years in the game he knew almost from the moment a scared or cocky applicant sat down beside him in their car before going out on the road whether they should be passed or failed. It could be a look they gave him, or the way they gripped the steering wheel. Sometimes he was a little too eager to fail the wankers who came in wearing some kind of tweed jacket, pretending to be a 'Yoicks, tally-ho' kind of snob who was going to be driving mater and pater's Range Rover before the end of the day down to Twickenham for the rugby. Then there were the school kids who'd only just met the age requirements for a licence, and were as shaky as all hell as they hopped behind the driver's wheel. Bill had seen grandmothers who could drive like Lewis Hamilton and fit young men who drove like Ray Charles with piles, and he'd passed and failed thousands. It wasn't the most intellectual of jobs but it was the job he'd done for years and he liked it enough to put up with the sometimes death-defying driving moments offered by his charges.

So when the call came in on this Saturday morning from the guv to come in and take over from his mate Sanjay who was off looking after his sick missus there was no real problem for Bill. On autopilot from the moment he walked out of his two bedroom flat, still smelling of bacon and eggs from his breakfast and the shaving cream from his morning ablutions. Driving with professional ease to his DVLA registery took about 15 minutes. Traffic was slow this hot July day, and it was probably because school holidays were on too. Bill's ex-wife Suzy was no doubt sunning herself on some beach in Majorca or the Greek Islands, thanks to the money her new husband (that donkey Eric from the Foreign Ministry who Suzy met when she left Bill) splurged on her. "Fuck 'em" Bill muttered to himself as he pulled into his car space. "Fuck the lot of em..." Bill repeated, feeling suddenly grumpy. It'd been a few months since his last chance to have sex, and he was aware that he wasn't going to be winning over too many girlfriends if he kept getting older and more set in his ways.

As Bill walked into the office via the staff entrance a few familiar faces rose from paper-strewn desks or turned from immaculately clean beaureaucratic customer service counters to offer a greeting. Melissa Tyson, the recently divorced cashier at the most popular window gave him a big wink, which slightly irked Bill. It had been Melissa who had been his last serious date, and whilst they had had some reasonably good times fucking in the back of her Vauxhall (and once in the washroom of an Everton pub), she'd decided that she was just looking for sympathy sex and "Nothing against you Bill but I want someone a little younger". He smiled a friendly but deep-down insincere grin at her then walked over to the boss. Alec Peterson, a baby-faced DVLA middle management type grabbed Bill's shoulder, turned him straight back around towards where all today's punters sat and pointed with his friend hand. "Go forth and conquer Bill!" Alec exhorted with a daffy expression of exhortation. It was only because Alec was actually a decent chap (supported the right football team, drank the right bitter, knew why the Conservatives where a bunch of shits) that Bill was ready to wear such silliness from his boss. That and the extra pounds in his kit at the end of the day.

From then till about 3.40 pm Bill took as many of his examinees out as he could, both within safety and time constraints. He passed a guy down from Sheffield who was a natural, even though Bill thought his Renault Megane was a bit too French for his liking. A librarian from Everton also got the thumbs up, and she surprised him with her ability to reverse park her Volkswagen Passat. A twit with a mouth bigger than the Blackpool tunnel entrance was failed after he went through two stop signs, whilst a kid who was obviously his mummy's precious boy almost got them both killed when the Ford Focus he was taking the exam in crossed illegally through a red light, barely missing a lorry from the continent. "You stupid fucking idiot!" Bill screamed at the kid, the teenager's eyes brimming with tears. "I wanna die in my bed at the age of 100 after watching Liverpool win the triple and getting banged by a virgin and her 4 sisters...not at the hands of a twat who thinks he's Nigel fucking Mansell!" The boy's mother was upset when given the news a few moments later, but she was ushered out of the DVLA rather hurriedly by her son who looked like he would never even want to own a Matchbox car, let alone drive a real one in the future.

With about 20 odd tests given and less than half passed, Bill was getting keen for knock off. He hopped out of his penultimate examinee's car, gave him the form showing he'd passed and that he could take it to the cashier for payment, and ambled back into the staff area. The customer waiting area was almost empty; only two people were left, a man who looked Polish and stank of cheap tobacco, and a young woman with the most amazing look he'd seen in a long time. Long hair with a mix of brunette and blonde streaks, a pink blouse, white mini skirt, black leather belt and calf boots to match. Bill whispered a low 'Sweet Jesus" to himself and then decided to do something he'd never done before. He snatched her details out of the fingers of Alec's right hand before his boss even told him who to take, had a quick look at the name and bawled it out as if to say "She's mine...don't come near".

"Miss Charelle Smith? Miss Charelle Smith?" Bill stared at the girl who was nervously crossing and recrossing her knees. Then walking closer to her, taking in just a small whiff of her perfume which made his eyes swim, he asked again, but more quietly. "Are you Miss Smith? If so, I'm your examiner."

"Oh...yes. I'm her...Charelle...Miss Smith." The stunner before Bill blushed as if she'd been caught doing something distinctly criminal, and she nervously smiled.

"C'mon girlie...I'm not the bloody dentist." Bill tried to be funny and reassuring, something he never did with other people taking the test. For all the obvious reasons this particular candidate was making him do things that were utterly atypical. Bill, after all was human, a man more specifically, and quite understandably was looking at Charelle as if she was the only woman he ever wanted to have before he shuffled off this mortal coil.

Chapter Two As the nervous and possibly most gorgeous young woman that Bill had ever examined at for a driver's licence walked out the door into the parking lot, the lecherous divorced examiner couldn't help but admire the cute arse on the girl. The white skirt was shorter than a Liverpool heat wave and failed miserably if its intent was to hide the legs of its wearer. Actually, Charelle had worn such a provocative dress for a reason, and though she was just 20 she was already fairly wise as to what makes the world go round. If she was rich she may have thought about a bribe for her examiner. If she was related to someone in the DVLA she could have pulled a few strings from the family links. Unfortunately corruption and nepotism weren't an option, so Charelle fell back on her delicious body to woo Bill into passing her for a driver's licence.

Now Bill wasn't exactly unaware of her methods either, as with all his years in the job he'd seen women dress provocatively before. See through blouses, black mess stockings or even a tight t-shirt over a bra-less pair of boobs had all been on show for previous exams. Almost always he'd been able to ignore the temptation because he was either still married when it happened, worried about the potential consequences or simply to abashed to actually take the 'offers' seriously. This day was different; it was after all fairly late in the day, he was without a doubt feeling pretty horny after going without for so long, and the way Charelle sashayed in front of him was like the sexual straw that broke his dirty old camel's back.

Bill stopped beside Charelle as she pulled some keys out of the white clutch purse that had been bouncing on her shapely hip as they approached her car. He turned and said to her with the most even toned voice he could summon (while his cock was twitching in his pants) "Well Miss, is this your car?"

"Uh, not really...it's my mums. She drove me hear then left me with it because she knew I was used to driving in it...she said she'd come back here when I called her after the exam. After I passed." As she made this falsely confidant statement Charelle pulled out a small red mobile phone, trying to reassure Bill that she wasn't fibbing. "Okay. But before we get in to the car I have to ask you one or two questions. Okay?" Eyes straight ahead, barely shifting to where he wanted them to look (at the sweet girl's perky tits), Bill quickly shifted his attention to a clip board. "Please confirm your name?"

"Charelle Smith"

"Date of Birth?"

"April 16th, 1988"

"Have you ever had a criminal record or been arrested for any activities contrary to the roads and traffic act 1979."

Charelle shook her head, and Bill couldn't help but noticed the brunette and blonde strands of her hair brushed her shoulders and neck. "No sir...at least, I'm pretty sure not."

"Hmmm...okay. Have you been drinking or using any drugs today that may impair your ability to take this exam?" Bill was rushing the questions now, his voice shooting out the questions like a machine gun. He wanted to get this sexy young thing away from the DVLA station as soon as possible.

"No!" Charelle wondered as soon as she told this little white lie if the large older guy standing almost too close to her could smell the vodka and red bull on her breath, from the quick drink she took to settle her nerves an hour or so before she came to the DVLA. It might have been stupid, but she believed something had to be done to stop her examiner from seeing how worried she was about failing.

"And finally Miss Smith," Bill's voice took the most serious deep tone he could muster whilst he tried to keep his erection from stirring any further "to succeed in this exam and gain your driver's licence you will need to completely....ah...satisfy my requirements and...Um, convince me that you won't endanger fellow users of the road." Each pause and stutter in Bill's voice was matched by a peek at her cleavage, subtly exposed by Charelle's blouse which was unbuttoned a good three inches from her nape. "If you agree with this please sign this form, date it here and her," he pointed at the requisite parts of the document "and we can begin." Passing over the clipboard Bill got Charelle's signature quickly, then stood back. She handed it back after a few scrawls and stood with her keys in her right hand, poised to move to the driver's side of a red Vauxhall Corsa.

"Um...can I ask you a question...sir?" Charelle paused before unlocking her car door. She looked at Bill with slightly hooded eyes.

"Just just did Miss...and cut the 'sir' crap okay. You can call me Bill."

"Bill," Charelle didn't stop her desire to ask her question overriding the fear she felt about sitting her exam "is it true if I fail this test I can't sit another for 3 months?"

"Yep. So don't fail okay...and don't kill me either." Bill replied with as much irony as he could muster, all the while looking in the passenger side door and hoping that his pretty learner driver would show a hint of her thighs or maybe even some panties when she slid in behind the steering wheel. "So...shall we start?" he half-asked, half-commanded as he took his seat as well.

Chapter Three As Charelle started the engine of the car her older passenger tensed slightly for two separate reasons. The first cause was one that Bill was used to; that moment of 'What the fuck's going to happen this time?', when his examinee began his or her test. The second reason for Bill's stress wasn't related to the usual influences. This was because unlike almost every single other driving exam he gave he wasn't actually thinking about passing the inexperienced driver that held his life in his or her hands...no, this time he was trying to keep a lid on the need he felt to just pull the pretty young woman away from the steering wheel and either make her blow his erect cock (camouflaged by his clip board) or even rip off her panties and fuck her on the back seat. It actually amazed Bill that with all this stimulation and distraction he actually noticed that Charelle engaged the car's gears correctly, indicated properly, remembered to look and was securely belted into her seat.

For the next twenty minutes or so Charelle grimly held onto the steering wheel, her eyes fixated on the road, her breathing shallow and nervous, as Bill gave her short curt instructions. "Turn left"..."Turn right"..."Stop"..."Proceed, and go around this roundabout." Ignorant of anything aside from her examiner's directions, Charelle was too concerned with doing as well as she could without having an accident and being caught with a possible drive under the influence conviction. The lust-fuddled 45 year old driving examiner guiding her was unconsciously noting any stuff ups and errors she made, but he was also making sure he was directing them to a more secluded part of Liverpool. Usually he took his charges to a park or sporting complex or industrial centre so as to give his tests on three point turns and reverse parking. This time Bill had a more personal motive.

Just as Charelle began to believe she was in with a great chance to pass, and the car had been driven close to the outskirts of Crosby, her plans came tumbling down. The examiner had asked her to take a left and go up a lane way from the A565. Charelle had put on her indicator, slowed down to take the turn and was about to change gear when she almost collected a pair of cyclists on the verge of the road. Her concentration and her narrow focus had almost killed the two bicycle riders, and Bill screamed out a warning just as she veered around them;

"Watch the FUCK out...don't hit them!"

Bill's hands scrabbled to grab onto the dash of the car, his clip board and pen flying up into the interior roof of the small Vauxhall. Thankfully Charelle was almost scared into doing the instinctively right thing, by steering and accelerating as Bill was flung around like a rag doll. The cyclists collided but didn't come down in a screaming heap, instead they just smacked into each other and made several rude gestures at the speedily disappearing Corsa. Within a few seconds Charelle had taken the car around the corner, driven about 200 metres down the laneway and wordlessly began to cry.

"Stop the bloody car!" Bill angrily said as he turned to face the still sexy but obviously incompetent young woman driving with tears rolling down her cheeks. "Pull over there" he directed, pointing at a clearing under the cover of some Yew trees, with no other vehicles in sight. Flicking his pen angrily all Bill could say to the poor lass was "Almost got 'em killed...almost got 'em killed." His erection was flagging admittedly, but he was not going to let Charelle get away now. The car rolled to a stop and Charelle mumbling weepy sorries and "Please don't fail me Bill...sir...please!" realised she'd well and truly stuffed it. Turning off the ignition, staring straight ahead, her mascara running a little now she sat there waiting for the inevitable axe to fall on her exam.

"I'm going to have to think about this Miss. I'm going to have to SERIOUSLY think about this. Wait here...I'm going to call the office." Bill sternly addressed her almost like her father did when Charelle was only a little girl, and then without another word, face ashen and creased, he opened his door and climbed out. All the plans, all the hopes, all the expectations that the beautiful young woman had were rapidly turning to shit. All she could do was sit in the driver's seat, stare out the windscreen at Bill as he whipped out his mobile phone and (she assumed) called the DVLA office where her exam began. For five or six minutes the examiner walked up and down in front of the car, gesticulating with one hand and talking just loudly enough for the occasional word to penetrate the glass. Charelle heard "danger to everyone...", "...fourth attempt?" and "...police...", and she knew that Bill was not going to let it slide.