Dawn Blish: https://imgur.com/a/n6Nvlll 

Plymouth Volare: https://imgur.com/a/gLraZOD 

Jennifer: https://imgur.com/a/ODGvibW 

Chevette: https://imgur.com/a/EEc6Nm9 

At 'Dawn' She'll...  Stall ??

<<<<<  AUTHOR WRITTEN PREMISE  >>>>>

Light fantasy, pantyhose cause women's car trouble. Pantyhose fetish, female car won't start fetish, female gas pedal pumping fetish, female body fetish story told in a tasteful manner.

Dawn Blish is a 5'4", 110 lb beautiful college age, long hair brunette with round hips and a bubble butt, who's style includes mostly denim shorts or denim mini skirts, stretchy white canvas sneakers, t-shirts or button up tops, and always wears light colored sheer-to-waste pantyhose, even to sleep in. She is known for ruining a current total of 7 cars due to engine failures since high school.

Dawn walked out of her apartment late in the morning wearing a pink button up top, faded blue denim mini skirt, a pair of brand new white canvas Tom's tennis shoes and a pair f light tan Hanes Her Way sheer-to-waste pantyhose. She walked to her 1978 Plymouth Volare station wagon which she parks in the far corner of the parking lot so she can have some privacy when she has trouble starting the engine.

She climbed in ready for an early lunch and then a small fund raiser afterwards. She broke in her new white Tom's tennis shoes by pumping the gas pedal steadily for about 5 minutes while she looked through some paperwork for her project.

She finally put her paperwork away and inserted the key into the ignition and clicked it to Run. She hissed when she realized that she forgot to get gas yesterday. The needle sat exactly on the empty line. She didn't have time go far. She hoped that the car would make it.

She began pumping the gas pedal steadily with her white tennis shoe and twisted the key.

ploomp ploomp ploomp ploomp

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew

The engine didn't start. Dawn hoped her pantyhose clad legs weren't going to have to work overtime to start her car today. She tried to start the engine again but it didn't start at all.



<<<<<  AI WRITTEN  >>>>>

Dawn’s brow furrowed in mild frustration, but she kept her composure, shifting her sheer-to-waist pantyhose-clad legs with a practiced grace. The soft sheen of the light tan fabric caught the morning sunlight filtering through the Plymouth’s dusty windshield, casting a delicate glow over her legs as she pumped the gas pedal again with steady, rhythmic movements. The sheer material hugged every curve, emphasizing the elegant arch of her foot in the crisp white canvas sneaker.

Her fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel, tapping to the tempo of the small, stubborn engine’s labored attempts to ignite. The smell of faint gasoline mixed with the interior’s worn leather and fabric. Dawn’s gaze flicked between the dashboard’s empty fuel gauge and the key she twisted again, hoping for a spark that wouldn’t come.

In that private corner of the lot, she was alone but for the familiar struggle — one she’d come to know well. Her pantyhose-clad legs flexed, one heel pressing, then the ball of her foot easing off the pedal, then pressing again. The soft resistance of the gas pedal beneath her shoe was oddly comforting, a tactile connection between her and the temperamental machine.

Her thoughts drifted briefly — the seven cars she’d unknowingly “ruined” over the years, the whispered rumors among friends who marveled at her uncanny ability to conjure engine troubles wherever she went. She didn’t mind their quiet curiosity. In a way, it made her feel unique, even a little magical, as if the sheer fabric she wore was a subtle charm that tangled with the cars’ fates.

After another minute of pumping, the engine coughed and spluttered, and finally, with a hesitant roar, it caught. Dawn’s lips curved into a small, triumphant smile. She eased off the pedal, letting the engine settle into a steady purr, feeling the gentle vibration through her legs.

She glanced down at her pantyhose, the soft fabric stretching smoothly over her calves and thighs, then back up at the dashboard. Today’s little battle was won — for now.

With a quick adjustment of her skirt, Dawn shifted the car into gear and pulled slowly out of the parking space, the sunlight catching the subtle sheen of her pantyhose as she drove off toward lunch and the fundraiser waiting ahead.


As the Volare sputtered its last protest, Dawn steered it gently into a parking spot, the engine bucking beneath her touch. She instinctively pressed the gas pedal flat to the floor, a last-ditch effort to coax just a few more seconds of cooperation from the stubborn car. The station wagon shuddered, gave one final knock, and fell silent—its engine finally giving up for the day.

Dawn sighed and ran a hand through her dark, shoulder-length hair before quickly gathering her things. She opened the creaky driver-side door and stepped out into the midday sun, the warm breeze brushing against her legs through the silky tan pantyhose. The breeze tugged lightly at the hem of her faded denim mini skirt, prompting her to tug it down snug over her full, round hips and bubble-shaped rear.

She stood for a moment, smoothing the front of her skirt and adjusting the waistband of her pantyhose beneath the fabric. The soft, sheer material shimmered subtly as it hugged the contours of her legs, flawless and unbunched despite the struggle she'd just been through. She gave her outfit a quick once-over: her new white canvas Toms were a little scuffed from all the pedal work, and there was a faint smudge on her pink button-up top, but nothing too out of place.

With a composed breath and a confident stride, she walked briskly toward the entrance of the restaurant. Her pantyhose-clad legs moved with grace and a bit of urgency, the faint whisper of nylon following each step. She wasn’t about to let a temperamental engine—or the faint scent of fuel clinging to her fingertips—ruin her day.

Inside, the small local diner buzzed with the soft clink of coffee cups and friendly chatter. The fundraiser had already begun, but Dawn slipped in with her usual mix of charm and easy warmth. No one would know from her smile that she’d just fought off another car crisis in the parking lot. It was just another day for Dawn Blish—pantyhose, pedal pumping, and all.


Dawn sighed and leaned back in the worn seat of her Volare, the interior now stuffy with the midday heat. The scent of sun-warmed vinyl and the lingering trace of gasoline filled the cabin. She brushed a few strands of hair from her cheek and stared at the unmoving fuel needle, its stubborn position well below the E.

"Perfect," she muttered under her breath, her voice touched with dry amusement more than frustration. This wasn’t her first time stranded like this, and with her luck—and wardrobe—it probably wouldn’t be the last.

She sat upright again, the soft rustle of her light tan pantyhose sounding faint in the quiet car as she crossed her legs, thinking. Her white canvas sneakers were already a bit dirty at the toes from her earlier struggles, and the sheer nylon fabric on her knees had a slight sheen from the sunlight pouring in through the windshield.

Still seated, she gave the gas pedal three purposeful pumps, her leg extending smoothly, the nylon hugging her calf and thigh. Her upper body moved with each press, hips shifting slightly in her snug denim skirt. It was more habit than hope—she knew, deep down, that the engine had already given her its last.

"Come on," she whispered, twisting the key again.

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew.

Nothing. No cough, no sputter—just the dry, tired churn of an empty engine begging for fuel it didn’t have.

She rested both hands on the wheel and exhaled, looking up through the windshield at the cloudless sky. The errand wasn’t far, but walking in this outfit—pantyhose, skirt, and thin-soled Toms—wasn’t ideal. She shifted in her seat and reached down to smooth her pantyhose again at the thighs, brushing out any wrinkles as if to calm herself in the process.

Dawn cracked the door open and stepped out slowly, adjusting the back of her mini skirt once more. She gave the roof of the car a soft pat, like one might to an old dog who tried their best.

“Well,” she said with a small, resigned laugh, “make that car number eight.”

Pulling out her phone, she began texting a friend for a quick rescue — one she was sure would come with teasing, questions, and maybe an offer to give her a ride to the gas station. Another tale to add to her legend. Another day in pantyhose, another car tamed—briefly—by her touch, only to break down at the finish line. Of course with all on her mind, she forgot to press 'send'.


Dawn had just stepped into the parking lot again, the warm pavement radiating up through the thin soles of her canvas shoes as she made her way toward the slouched, silent Volare. The errand had been reassigned, and while a small part of her was relieved, another part of her still felt the sting of defeat. She smoothed her hands down the front of her mini skirt again—another habit, like checking the gas gauge after it was too late.

As she reached the driver’s side door, a voice called out behind her.

“Miss Blish?”

She turned to see a man approaching with a calm, confident stride. Late 30s, maybe 40. Tall, buttoned-up business casual with an ID badge clipped to his belt. She recognized him almost immediately—Mr. Albridge, one of the campus facilities managers. He’d been at several committee meetings, usually quiet, observant. Reliable.

“Yes?” she replied, shifting slightly to face him. The breeze teased at the hem of her skirt, so she casually pressed it back down with a palm as she met his eyes.

He gave a friendly nod. “Saw you come back out. Someone inside said your car wouldn’t start. Thought I’d check in. Trouble with the Volare?”

Dawn offered a lopsided smile, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “Yeah… it’s out of gas. Again,” she said with a hint of embarrassment. “I think it gave up the second I parked. Lucky timing, honestly.”

He looked at the car with a thoughtful glance, then back at her. “She’s a classic, but temperamental, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Dawn laughed, leaning lightly against the car. “She’s number eight, actually. I have a bit of a track record. Engines don’t last long with me, apparently.”

Mr. Albridge chuckled, clearly amused but not mocking. “Maybe you’ve got a heavy foot?”

Dawn shook her head with a small grin. “Not really. Just… persistent, I guess. I try and coax them to life when they don’t want to wake up. Lots of gas pedal pumping. And not much fuel lately, obviously.”

He raised an eyebrow slightly, clearly intrigued, but kept his tone polite. “That’s dedication. Or stubbornness.”

“Bit of both,” she replied, straightening up and brushing off her skirt again, the pantyhose on her thighs catching the light as she moved. “Anyway, thanks for checking. I’ve got someone bringing me gas later. She’s not going anywhere for now.”

“Well, if you need a jump or a tow, I’ve got cables in the truck. I’m around most afternoons.”

“Appreciate it,” she said genuinely. “But I think she just needs a full tank and a fresh apology.”

They shared a small laugh, and with a courteous nod, Mr. Albridge made his way back toward the building, leaving Dawn once again alone with her quietly obstinate Volare.


The hot pavement clung to Dawn’s every step as she trudged back from the gas station, the red plastic fuel container bumping against her leg with each stride. The walk hadn’t been long, but in the summer heat and dressed as she was—in a snug denim mini skirt, new white canvas shoes, and light tan sheer pantyhose—it felt longer. Her legs were starting to ache, her shoes dusty, and the cling of nylon against her skin was becoming more noticeable.

Back at the Volare, she popped the gas cap, hands trembling slightly as she poured every last drop of fuel into the thirsty tank. The scent of gasoline filled the air again, mixing with the fading scent of her floral body spray. She capped the tank, stashed the now-empty red container in the cargo area, and took a moment to wipe her hands on a napkin she found in the glove box.

Sliding back into the driver’s seat, she pushed the skirt down around her thighs and took a breath. This part—this moment right here—was familiar. Too familiar.

Her nylon-clad foot lifted and pressed the gas pedal down smoothly and repeatedly. ploomp ploomp ploomp ploomp  She felt the soft give of the pedal under her sneaker, the engine's memory almost echoing beneath her foot. She could almost feel the ritual stirring something in the car.

"Come on, girl," she murmured.

She twisted the key.

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew.

The starter turned, whined, spun—but the engine offered nothing. No cough. No sputter. No shake. Just the cold, tired crank of a car that had had enough.

Dawn frowned, not giving up yet. She pumped the pedal steadily again—three times, four, five. Her leg moved with calm determination, pantyhose catching glimmers of light through the windshield, her sneaker rising and falling in rhythm. She twisted the key again.

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew… chew-chew-chew…

Still no life. Her foot paused mid-air, trembling slightly. The silence after the starter stopped spinning was heavier this time.

Dawn let out a quiet, tired sigh, slumping slightly in her seat. She knew this behavior too well. Not just the car’s—but her own. Hope mixed with a pinch of denial. But this time, the engine wasn't teasing her. It was just… gone cold.

She looked down at her legs—now slightly glistening from the heat and effort—and then to the dead dashboard. The fresh gas wasn’t enough.

Not yet.

But she wasn’t giving up.

Her foot returned to the pedal. Again.

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew

The Volare’s tired starter spun tirelessly, echoing off the surrounding pavement like a broken promise. The engine didn’t even try to catch — no sputter, no hiccup, just the dry, mechanical churn of failure.

Dawn’s pantyhose-clad leg continued its steady motion, her white sneaker pressing and releasing the gas pedal in a smooth, practiced rhythm. The nylon shimmered softly in the sunlight sneaking through the windshield, hugging the contours of her calf and thigh as her leg bobbed with effort. She stared at the dash, willing the engine to respond, but it remained silent — stubbornly and unnaturally so.

She paused for a breath, foot hovering over the pedal. Then, with a tired exhale, she reached down and smoothed her pantyhose again — hands brushing lightly over the tops of her thighs, up toward her hips, fixing the cling and easing the wrinkles caused by her movements. The fabric was warm to the touch, slightly sticky from the heat, and the subtle friction made her even more aware of every shift and stretch.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath, fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. She glanced down at the ignition key again, then at the empty fuel container in the backseat. She knew she had put in enough to get the engine to at least cough.

Her brow furrowed.

Maybe the carburetor was flooded. Maybe the fuel line hadn’t drawn in yet. Maybe it was just another one of those moments—when the car, like so many before it, decided to test the limits of her patience.

Dawn returned her foot to the pedal, pressed it once more, then again, slow and deliberate, and twisted the key.

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew

The silence at the end of the attempt felt louder than the starter itself.

Her leg stilled. Her body did not. She leaned forward slightly, lips tightening in a half-frown, her fingers brushing her skirt back down as it had ridden up again. The nylon over her thighs glinted as she shifted in the seat.

The Volare wasn't just being difficult — it was being defiant.


Dawn jumped slightly at the sharp knock-knock on the window, the sudden sound cutting through the silence of the still, dead engine. She twisted in her seat, her body shifting in a smooth motion, nylon sliding against vinyl as she turned to look through the driver’s side window.

There he was — Eli.

She recognized him instantly, even before the half-smile formed on his face. Tall, clean-cut, always just a little too observant. They’d gone out a couple of times back in the spring—coffee once, dinner once—but something about his attention made her uneasy. He wasn’t rude or inappropriate, exactly… but he watched her too closely. And when the topic of pantyhose or car trouble came up, he got this look. Like today was Christmas morning.

Dawn sighed softly, rolled down the window with a cautious flick of the crank, and gave him a polite, neutral smile.

"Hey, Eli," she said, her voice even. "Fancy running into you here."

He smiled wider, eyes flicking — too obviously — down toward her pantyhose-clad legs before quickly returning to her face. "I saw the Volare out here... figured it had to be you. Trouble again?"

She nodded once, not offering much. "Out of gas. Filled it. Still won’t start."

Eli leaned in a little closer to the open window, resting one arm on the edge. "You know, I could maybe take a look. I’m pretty good with stubborn engines. Especially old ones."

Dawn shifted in her seat again, subtly tugging the hem of her denim skirt back into place. The sunlight highlighted the smooth sheen of her pantyhose, and she could feel his eyes flick there again before he caught himself.

"That’s nice of you," she said, her tone cool but not cold. "But I think I just need to let it sit for a bit. She’ll turn over eventually."

Eli lingered, clearly not ready to give up. "You know... you’ve got this whole retro vibe going. The Volare. The outfit. The pantyhose." He gave a soft, almost playful chuckle. "It’s like you're from another era. In the best way."

Dawn offered a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah, it’s kind of my thing."

A pause. The air between them hung heavy for a moment.

She added, gently but firmly, "I’m good for now, Eli. Just gonna give her a few minutes before I try again."

He nodded slowly, his expression unreadable, and took a small step back. "Sure. If you change your mind, I’ll be around."

"Thanks," she said, and rolled the window back up smoothly.

Once he was gone, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her fingers returned to the gas pedal, lightly pumping it again — like waking something from sleep.

"Come on, girl," she whispered to the car, more to herself than to the machine. "Don’t let that be the last thing I hear today."


chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew

The same lifeless, mechanical sound filled the cabin again — no cough, no stumble, not even a flicker of ignition. Just more silence at the end of the starter’s desperate churn.

Dawn’s hands fell to her lap as she let out a drawn, quiet “Ugh!”, her frustration barely kept in check. She stared ahead at nothing for a moment, lips slightly parted, the still air around her heavy with the scent of fuel and heat.

She looked down at her foot resting on the gas pedal — her white canvas sneaker flexing gently as she began to press and release it in slow, thoughtful rhythm. The soft tan nylon of her Hanes pantyhose shifted around her ankle with every motion, wrinkling slightly at the bend, then smoothing again as her leg extended. She watched it, entranced for a second, as though the answer to her problem might reveal itself in that rhythm.

Pump. Smooth. Wrinkle. Smooth.

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew.

Still nothing.

The engine wasn’t just cold — it was completely unresponsive. Like it had drawn a line in the sand and refused to even play along now.

Dawn’s shoulders sagged, and she let her foot rest motionless on the pedal. A warm breeze floated through the slightly open window, brushing across her legs, the sensation almost teasing as it caught the sheen of her pantyhose.

She sat there quietly, tapping her fingers on her knee, running through her limited options. She could call for a tow… but she’d already walked for gas, and she hated the idea of having someone come rescue her now. Especially him. Eli was probably still lingering somewhere nearby.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she glanced back at the dash, then back at the key in the ignition. Maybe… just maybe… one more try?

But not yet.

For now, she just sat in the sun-warmed silence, her fingers absently smoothing her skirt, then trailing down to her thigh to lightly brush a wrinkle from her pantyhose — contemplative, careful, and caught in that strange space between mechanical frustration and quiet determination.

She wasn’t ready to give up.

Not quite yet.


chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew.

Nothing. No spark, no stumble, no pulse. Just the tired whine of the starter and a growing sense of unease in Dawn’s chest.

She let the key go with a frustrated huff, resting her forehead briefly against the steering wheel. Her pantyhose-clad leg was still, the smooth sheen of the pantyhose glinting in the fading sunlight. She felt heat gathering beneath the fabric — not just from the summer air, but from the stress, the annoyance, and now… something else.

A voice called out, catching her attention.

“Hey, sweetie! Trouble with the car?”

Dawn blinked, sat up, and turned her head toward the voice. A striking woman in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, was approaching her window with a confident sway. She wore a clingy red mini-dress that hugged every curve, the fabric practically daring the eye not to follow. Her long legs were encased in glossy nude pantyhose, the shine unmistakable in the sunlight. Red espadrille wedges clacked softly against the pavement as she approached, hips rolling smoothly. She radiated a kind of effortless boldness.

Dawn rolled her window down halfway. “Yeah… she won’t start. Again.”

The woman leaned slightly toward the open window, her eyes flicking over the car, then back to Dawn. “I thought I saw a young guy under your hood about fifteen, twenty minutes ago. Tall, kind of eager-looking?”

Dawn's expression shifted in an instant — eyes narrowing, heart thudding with realization. “Wait, what?” she asked, sitting up straighter, suddenly alert. “What exactly was he doing?”

The woman shrugged lightly. “Just poking around under the hood. I figured you knew him, maybe asked for help. He didn’t have tools or anything, though. Looked like he was more… admiring than fixing.”

Dawn's jaw tensed. She already had a good guess who it was.

“Eli,” she muttered under her breath, almost growling it.

She turned the key again out of sheer instinct—chew-chew-chew-chew—but still got nothing. If he’d touched something, unplugged something, tampered even a little… the car wouldn’t start no matter how much fuel she gave it.

Her eyes flicked up to the woman. “Thanks for telling me. I didn’t ask anyone to touch the engine. If he messed with something…”

The woman raised her hands, backing up slightly. “Hey, just thought you should know. Guys get weird when they think a pretty girl needs saving.”

Dawn forced a smile. “Yeah. They do.”

She rolled the window back up and sat back in her seat, chest rising slowly with a deep breath. She didn’t know if Eli had just looked… or done something. But suddenly, her car trouble wasn’t just mechanical—it was personal.

And that made her even more determined to get the engine to roar back to life.

No matter how many pumps it took.


Dawn gave the woman a polite nod of thanks as she turned away, her heels clicking confidently toward the nearby 1978 Chevette parked just three spaces over. Dawn’s eyes lingered on her own stubborn Volare as she settled back into the driver’s seat, hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, waiting.

The woman slipped into the Chevette with effortless grace, the red espadrille wedges settling on the pedals. Dawn watched as she pressed down several times, the sound of the mechanical linkage clicking clearly audible.

Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr

But just like Dawn’s car, the Chevette refused to start. The engine didn’t roar to life — only that repetitive, hollow clicking.

Dawn’s gaze flicked back to the parking lot entrance, half-expecting Eli to appear — maybe to offer another unsolicited attempt at help, or simply to watch from afar. But he didn’t come.

Instead, footsteps approached from behind. Turning her head, Dawn saw Mr. Albridge walking steadily toward her, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, a concerned look on his face.

“Still no luck?” he asked quietly as he reached her window.

Dawn shook her head. “Nothing. I poured gas in, pumped the pedal like crazy… but the engine just won’t catch.”

He glanced at the red-dressed woman in the Chevette, then back at Dawn. “Looks like she’s struggling too. Might be something bigger going on here.”

Dawn furrowed her brows. “You think it’s more than just my car?”

He nodded slowly. “Possibly. Could be a problem with the fuel pump, or maybe an electrical issue affecting the lot. I’ll have someone look into it as soon as I can.”

She gave a grateful smile despite the frustration. “Thanks, Mr. Albridge. I appreciate it.”

He smiled back warmly. “Don’t worry, Dawn. We’ll get this sorted.”

As he turned to walk back toward the building, Dawn’s eyes drifted again to her pantyhose-clad legs, feeling the heat of the day and the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing. The stubborn cars, the unexpected visitors — it was all part of the strange dance she found herself in, one she was far from ready to step away from.


Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr

The Chevette cranked and cranked without success, its tired starter echoing faintly across the lot.

Dawn’s ears perked up. Her gaze followed Mr. Albridge as he slowed mid-stride, clearly having heard the familiar sound. He turned on his heel and redirected toward the red Chevette just a few spaces over.

“Jennifer!” he called, raising his voice just enough to carry. “Are you having car trouble again?”

The woman in the red dress — Jennifer — pushed open the driver’s door and leaned out slightly, giving him a wry smile from beneath a pair of large sunglasses.

“Again?” she said, letting out a soft laugh. “That’s generous. I don’t think she ever stopped having car trouble.”

Mr. Albridge chuckled as he approached, standing just off her driver’s side. “I thought you had her fixed last month.”

Jennifer shrugged and swung one glossy nylon-clad leg out of the car, her wedge heel settling firmly on the pavement. “She was running okay for a while. But now? She’s just spinning and spinning. Not even a cough.”

“You out of gas?” he asked, crouching slightly to peer toward her dash.

“Nope. Half a tank. She just doesn’t want to cooperate today.” She tapped the top of the steering wheel with a sigh.

Dawn listened quietly from her Volare, watching the interaction play out like a scene in a play she knew all too well. Her own engine sat lifeless, just as stubborn, and now the Chevette — another relic of the ‘70s—was echoing the same refusal to start.

Mr. Albridge stood back up, glancing briefly in Dawn’s direction before returning his attention to Jennifer. “Let me grab my tool bag from the maintenance truck. I’ll take a look at both of them. Might be something in the air — or maybe the lot’s just cursed.”

Jennifer gave a playful scoff. “If it’s cursed, it started with her,” she joked, tipping her head toward Dawn’s car. “She’s been flooding the lot with pantyhose and engine trouble since before I got here.”

Dawn smirked to herself, hearing it but taking it in stride. She adjusted her skirt again, stretching her legs slightly under the wheel, the soft whisper of her pantyhose the only sound inside her quiet cabin.

As Mr. Albridge walked off to fetch his tools, Jennifer called after him, “You’re a lifesaver, Albridge!”

And with that, Dawn leaned back in her seat, letting the sun warm her legs through the nylon and wondering if — just maybe — this time someone else’s car trouble might steal the spotlight. At least for a little while.


chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew

Dawn’s engine groaned again — long, tired, and utterly lifeless.

From a few spots over, Jennifer sat sideways in her seat, one leg draped out of the Chevette, watching. The rhythmic sound of Dawn’s futile cranking echoed across the lot. Dawn gave the gas pedal a few more soft pumps with her white canvas sneaker, her pantyhose catching the light as her leg moved with practiced grace. Then she slumped back slightly, threw her hands up gently, and gave a sheepish shrug.

“Nothing,” she said aloud, glancing over to Jennifer, her voice laced with frustration and a hint of weary amusement.

Jennifer pursed her lips and nodded with an empathetic little smile. “I feel that,” she replied, crossing her nylon-clad legs as she waited.

Dawn watched with mild detachment as Mr. Albridge returned with his tool bag and made his way to the Chevette. He exchanged a few words with Jennifer — she laughed at something he said — then stepped to the front of the car and popped the hood. The metal groaned slightly as he lifted it open.

Dawn leaned forward in her seat, narrowing her eyes slightly.

From her angle, it was subtle — but something about the way Mr. Albridge moved under that hood caught her attention. He didn’t fiddle or diagnose. He reached for something quickly and purposefully. His hand dipped in… and then it looked like he snapped something back into place.

Dawn straightened in her seat.

Did he just reconnect a wire?

A flicker of suspicion stirred in her chest. She hadn’t heard a click like that under her own hood — but she hadn’t thought to check. Maybe Eli had pulled something loose… and maybe Mr. Albridge had known exactly what it was.

Jennifer climbed fully back into her seat, her wedges settling into position on the floorboard. She pumped the gas pedal confidently, the clicking linkage audible even from Dawn’s car.

Then, she twisted the key.

Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr—Vrooommmmmm.

The Chevette came to life with a heavy growl before settling into a healthy idle. Jennifer clapped her hands once and gave Mr. Albridge a grin. “Well look at that.”

Dawn’s stomach turned — not with jealousy, but with certainty.

Her own car wasn’t dead.

It had been disabled.

And now she had a very good idea by whom.


Dawn didn’t hesitate. As Jennifer’s Chevette purred confidently just a few spaces away, Dawn leaned forward, yanked the hood release, and swung her door open with purpose. The afternoon heat met her full-on as she stepped out of the Volare, her pantyhose-clad legs catching the sunlight — soft tan nylon shimmering unmistakably against the faded pavement.

Mr. Albridge, still standing beside Jennifer’s car, turned quickly at the sound. His eyes found her immediately — and lingered just a second too long. His expression shifted: polite concern gave way to something more unsettled.

“I’ll be right there, Ms. Blish,” he called out, voice tighter now. Frantic, almost.

Dawn didn’t wait. She rounded the front of her station wagon and lifted the hood herself, her fingers working the latch with surprising confidence. The heavy panel creaked upward, and she propped it open, the Volare’s weary engine exposed beneath.

She leaned in slightly, scanning the components. The heat rising from the metal wrapped around her like a cloak. She knew enough to spot the basics: air filter, battery, distributor cap… spark plug wires.

Her eyes paused.

One of the spark plug wires looked… off. Not broken. Just resting slightly out of place — set just enough to keep the connection from making contact.

She didn’t touch it yet.

Mr. Albridge approached quickly, his work bag slung over one shoulder, a smile frozen awkwardly on his face.

“I didn’t want you to get dirty, Ms. Blish,” he said smoothly, but his smile didn’t meet his eyes. There was tension behind it now. His glance flicked down — again — at her legs, the pantyhose glowing almost golden in the sun, the subtle curves of her calves and thighs drawn in sheer, silky detail. He blinked and looked away, trying to refocus.

Dawn kept her tone level. “You fixed Jennifer’s car in about two seconds.”

“I got lucky,” he said quickly. “It was a loose vacuum line — just a quick adjustment.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t call him on it yet.

Instead, she casually reached toward the spark plug wire and — with the ease of someone who’d already guessed what she’d find — pressed it fully into place. There was a soft, satisfying click.

She didn’t even look at him. “Let’s see if I get lucky too.”

And with that, she dropped the hood — firm, deliberate — and walked back to her door, her white canvas sneakers soft against the pavement, pantyhose legs moving with quiet determination. Mr. Albridge didn’t follow.

He stood there, watching, his smile now completely gone.


chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew

The Volare’s starter whined on, long and lifeless. Dawn’s body lifted and dropped in time with her steady gas pedal pumping, her pantyhose-sheathed leg flexing and moving with practiced rhythm. The silky nylon whispered softly with each bounce, catching sunlight through the windshield as she leaned into the task.

Mr. Albridge stepped closer, just outside the open driver’s side window. Dawn didn’t acknowledge him right away. Instead, she exaggerated her motion slightly — bouncing just a bit more, her heel lifting higher off the floor mat with each pump. Her white canvas sneaker moved in slow, steady arcs, the pantyhose around her ankle ruffling and smoothing with each flex.

She twisted the key again.

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew

Still nothing.

Her eyes flicked up at him — at Mr. Albridge — and for a moment, she let the silence hang. Her suspicion still sat heavy on her chest, but now it was mixed with uncertainty. If she’d really fixed the issue under the hood, why wasn’t the engine even trying to turn over? Had she misread what she saw? Jumped to conclusions?

She glanced sideways toward Jennifer’s Chevette. Jennifer had been watching quietly, one heel propped on the heel of her red espadrille wedge, arms crossed, head slightly tilted. When she caught Dawn’s eye, she gave a slow purse of her lips… then stood and walked toward the Volare.

Dawn swallowed lightly as Jennifer joined Mr. Albridge by her door, the tall woman in the red dress now standing over her with a curious, slightly amused expression.

No one said anything for a few seconds. The tension was delicate — uncertain.

Finally, Dawn broke the silence. Her voice was softer than before, almost uncertain. “I thought… maybe the spark plug wire was loose.”

Jennifer leaned slightly toward the window, glancing at the dash, then at Dawn’s leg still poised on the pedal. “It could’ve been. These old cars can be finicky. Sometimes it’s more than one thing.”

Mr. Albridge, to his credit, didn’t look smug. Just serious. “I didn’t touch your car, Ms. Blish. I promise.”

Dawn nodded slowly, eyes returning to the key, then the gas pedal, then her own hands gripping the wheel. The burn of embarrassment crept in around her chest, but so did a nagging doubt: was she being paranoid… or was she being carefully managed?

Either way, the Volare sat still. Dead silent. No cough, no rumble. Just a warm summer breeze and the sound of lingering uncertainty.

Dawn didn't start the car again. Not yet. Not with them watching. She sat back, adjusting her skirt, pantyhose smoothing against her thighs, and looked down at the key.

“Maybe I need to give her a minute,” she muttered.

But she wasn’t just talking about the car anymore.


Mr. Albridge’s voice broke the silence, but it had lost the easy confidence he usually carried. “I’ll be inside, Ms. Blish,” he said quietly, not quite meeting her eyes. Then he turned and walked away — slowly, deliberately — leaving Dawn alone again in the still heat of the parking lot.

Jennifer lingered.

She stood just outside the driver’s door, casting a slim shadow across the Volare’s interior. Her gaze dropped momentarily, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips as she looked over Dawn — her legs stretched out in her light tan Hanes pantyhose, the tight denim skirt wrapping snugly around her round hips, still shifted slightly from all the movement earlier.

“You looked nice bent over the engine,” Jennifer said casually, her voice smooth and low, tinged with playful warmth.

Dawn blinked, the comment catching her just slightly off guard — but not unpleasantly. Her posture relaxed just a bit. The compliment, while unexpected, landed gently. She met Jennifer’s eyes, then let a small, genuine smile pull at the corners of her lips.

“Thanks,” she said, brushing her skirt down again with one hand. “Not exactly what I was going for today, but… I guess I’ll take it.”

Jennifer’s expression softened. She leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice. “You know... Mr. Albridge and some of the other committee members have been quietly noticing something lately — an uptick in... well, ‘nicely dressed’ women reporting car trouble. Repeatedly.”

Dawn tilted her head. “You think it’s not just coincidence?”

Jennifer gave a slow, meaningful shrug. “Let’s just say… they’re under pressure to figure out how and why. Someone might be orchestrating these little incidents. Maybe for their own weird satisfaction. Maybe worse.”

Dawn’s stomach tightened slightly. Her eyes drifted toward the building, where Mr. Albridge had disappeared. Then back to Jennifer.

Jennifer smiled again, more warmly this time. “Let’s go inside. Cool off. Get some A/C and drink. I’ll drive you over to the main fundraiser after — you shouldn’t have to deal with this in the heat.”

Dawn hesitated. She looked down at her key still in the ignition, then to the dash of her stubborn car, and finally to Jennifer — bold, relaxed, confident in her own way.

She gave a nod. “Yeah,” she said, grabbing her bag. “That sounds good. Let’s go cool off.”

As Dawn stepped out of the Volare, adjusting her skirt and brushing her pantyhose down once more, she felt the tension start to lift.

Something strange was going on.

But at least now, she wasn’t alone in noticing it.


Jennifer and Dawn stepped back into the summer sun, both of them visibly more relaxed after a 20 minute break. The building behind them buzzed faintly with the continued sounds of the fundraiser, muffled by glass and distance. Dawn gave her station wagon a quick glance, tugged gently at the handle to confirm it was still locked, then turned and followed Jennifer to the Chevette.

The little red car sat baking in the sun, its paint warm to the touch. Dawn slid into the passenger seat and crossed her legs carefully, her pantyhose catching the light in soft tones of tan and gold. Jennifer climbed in beside her and gave her wedges a small shake as she slipped her heel back into place.

Her red espadrille wedge foot pressed gently to the gas pedal. palump  palump  palumpR

Dawn heard the soft creak of linkage underfoot, then the unmistakable sound of the key turning in the ignition.

Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr

Nothing.

Jennifer exhaled lightly, lips forming a sheepish smile. “She’s… got her moods.”

She tried again.

This time, Dawn watched her leg move with a certain rhythm — press, lift, press, lift — each motion making the wedge tilt just enough to show the arch of her foot flexing within the shoe.

Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr… Vroooom… sputter—putt-putt—stall.

The engine coughed into life and then promptly gave up. Dawn shifted in her seat, her fingers gently adjusting the hem of her skirt again, smoothing her pantyhose along her thigh without thinking.

Jennifer turned the key again, her eyes flicking instinctively toward the building.

There, framed clearly in one of the windows, stood Mr. Albridge — arms folded, face unreadable.

Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr… vroooom… putt… putt… VRRrooooom.

The engine caught again. Rough this time. Hesitant.

But then, slowly, it settled into a steady idle.

Jennifer let it sit for a moment, her hand still on the shifter. She looked over at Dawn, smiled faintly, and said, “Sometimes it takes a few attempts. On good days.”

Dawn gave a small chuckle, though her expression remained thoughtful. She shifted again, adjusting her seatbelt, brushing her skirt again as if needing to do something.

As Jennifer backed the Chevette out of the parking space, she glanced one more time toward the window.

Mr. Albridge was gone.

“Did you see that?” Jennifer said quietly.

Dawn didn’t answer right away. She just looked ahead, jaw slightly set.

Yeah. She’d seen.


Jennifer settled into the driver’s seat of the Chevette, a tired but satisfied smile on her lips from the day’s successful fundraiser. She leaned forward, priming the carburetor with practiced ease — a few gentle pumps of the gas pedal — and then twisted the key.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr

Nothing. Silence.

Jennifer chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Well, that went great today, huh?” she said, trying to keep the mood light as she turned the key again.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr

Still no start.

Dawn smiled warmly, nodding encouragingly. “Yeah, it really did. You handled everything so well.”

Jennifer returned the smile, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes — a tension that didn’t quite fit the casual tone. She turned the key again.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr—vrooom—putt—stall.

The engine sputtered, caught briefly, then died.

Jennifer sighed and shook her head. She turned the key once more — this time the engine only groaned in response and died immediately. She finally stopped, hands resting on the steering wheel, and her expression shifted into something tighter, more nervous.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr

Dawn noticed immediately. The easy confidence Jennifer had held all day was now tinged with unease.

“Hey,” Dawn said softly, leaning slightly closer, “what’s on your mind? You look… different.”

Jennifer’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror, then out toward the darkening parking lot. She exhaled slowly, a flicker of vulnerability flashing across her face.

“It’s just… this car,” she said quietly. “It’s been acting up more than usual lately. And after what happened earlier… well, I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if it’s really just bad luck.”

Dawn’s gaze softened. “You think someone’s messing with you?”

Jennifer nodded, biting her lip. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just paranoia. But… I can’t shake the feeling.”

Dawn reached over and gave Jennifer’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

Jennifer smiled faintly, grateful for the support, but the worry still lingered beneath the surface as the engine sat silent between them.


Jennifer pressed the gas pedal gently, priming the carburetor with steady, practiced pumps. Then she twisted the key again, holding it a little longer this time.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-voooom…

After what felt like an eternity, the engine sputtered to life. The rough coughing slowly smoothed out, and the motor settled into a steady, confident idle.

Jennifer let out a small sigh of relief and glanced over at Dawn, her eyes softening. A calmness seemed to wash over her face — the tension that had been there just moments before eased away.

Dawn sat quietly beside her, the warmth of that calm settling over her as well. It was almost contagious. As they pulled away from the parking lot, Dawn felt the subtle reassurance in Jennifer’s steady grip on the wheel and in the gentle hum of the engine beneath them.

For now, at least, the car was running — and the uneasy weight of the day lifted, if only just a little.

<<<<<  AUTHOR WRITTEN  >>>>>

The ladies arrived at the restaurant parking lot and Dawn got out and then Jennifer finished parking the Chevette. Dawn unlocked the door and pulled the hood release and opened the hood.



<<<<<  AI WRITTEN  >>>>>

Dawn stood by the open hood, scanning the engine bay with careful attention. She checked the wires, connections, the spark plug line — everything looked untouched, just as she’d left it. The warm air stirred slightly around her legs as she leaned in, her denim skirt pulling just taut over her hips, her pantyhose catching the light.

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

Dawn looked up quickly.

Jennifer stood a few feet away with a crooked smile, one hand on her hip. “You look hot like that, you know,” she teased with a chuckle, glancing playfully at Dawn’s posture over the engine.

Dawn raised an eyebrow, surprised — then gave in to a laugh, the tension from the day finally breaking. “Oh stop,” she said, waving a hand, though her grin betrayed how much she appreciated the comment.

“Everything look okay?” Jennifer asked as she walked over.

“Yeah,” Dawn replied, brushing her hands together and stepping back from the engine. “Looks like I left it. I guess I’ll try to start it.”

Jennifer nodded and leaned against the passenger-side door, arms loosely crossed. As Dawn slid into the driver’s seat, Jennifer started talking casually about the fundraiser — how the turnout had exceeded expectations, how even Mr. Aldridge had seemed impressed by the numbers.

Meanwhile, Dawn began her ritual — gently, steadily pressing the gas pedal to prime the carburetor. Over and over, smooth and rhythmic, her pantyhose-covered foot pumping instinctively as her gaze remained calm and focused.

After about two minutes, she paused, glanced at the gauge.

“The gas is right on Empty,” she muttered, more to herself than Jennifer. She exhaled, flexed her fingers once on the steering wheel. “Here goes nothing…”

She twisted the key.

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew

The engine turned — but refused to start.

Jennifer winced a little, biting her lip as she watched Dawn give it another few seconds.

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-

Still nothing.

Dawn sat back with a frustrated huff. “Ugh! There has to be something else wrong with it now. It’s not just fuel — it’s this car. I don’t think anyone’s tampered with it. It’s just… plain ol’ stubborn.”

Jennifer stepped a bit closer, nodding slowly. “She’s a tough one, alright. Maybe you’ve just got one of those engines that likes to test your patience. Like, daily.”

Dawn smirked and rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it.”

They both stood there for a moment in the early evening quiet — the fading sun casting soft shadows across the lot, and the stubborn Volare sitting defiantly still.


<<<<<  AUTHOR WRITTEN  >>>>>

Dawn got out and looked into the open engine bay. Nothing seemed out of place.

Jennifer cleared her throat and Dawn looked up to see Mr. Albridge across the drive. He stopped and waited until Jennifer finally waved him over. He sheepishly approached.



<<<<<  AI WRITTEN  >>>>>

Mr. Albridge adjusted his tie as he walked across the drive, clearly unsure of his welcome. His usual confident stride was replaced by something more tentative — almost cautious. He stopped a few paces from the car, glancing between Dawn and Jennifer as if gauging the atmosphere.

Dawn caught his unease and, with a measured breath, softened her tone. “I think there’s something else wrong with my car, Mr. Albridge,” she said, brushing her hands together and glancing toward the engine. “The spark plug wire might’ve come off before, but it’s still not starting - and everything looks fine now.”

There was a pause. Mr. Albridge shifted his weight, eyes moving toward the engine bay, then back to Dawn.

He finally spoke, his voice low and slightly guarded. “Well… old engines like this can be fickle,” he said, stepping slowly toward the front of the car. “You might be dealing with a flooded carburetor - or a bad fuel filter. Maybe something in the ignition coil.” His tone carried the vague rhythm of someone deflecting more than diagnosing.

He leaned in under the hood, giving the wires a cursory glance, then straightened up again. “I… didn’t see anything disconnected,” he added quickly. “Not now, anyway.”

Jennifer stood back, arms crossed lightly, watching him with an unreadable expression.

Dawn nodded slowly, though something in her posture remained stiff. “Okay,” she said, her voice neutral. “Could you check the coil, then? Just in case?”

Mr. Albridge hesitated, then nodded and leaned in again.

As he worked, the parking lot seemed unusually quiet. Jennifer took a few steps closer to Dawn and murmured just loud enough for her to hear, “Watch where his hands go.”

Dawn gave a subtle nod and turned her focus back to the man under her hood  —feeling the pressure of a question she still wasn’t sure how to ask directly.


Mr. Albridge froze for a brief moment under the hood, as if he’d just registered Jennifer’s presence behind him — or the weight of her remark hanging in the air.

He straightened slowly, turned halfway toward the two women, and offered a polite but cautious smile. “Ms. Blish,” he said, voice measured, “I’m not here to make anyone uncomfortable. I was just trying to be helpful.”

His eyes flicked to Jennifer, then back to Dawn. “I understand how this must look. With the… number of vehicles having issues lately, and all of them involving — well — ladies from the committee… I get it. The timing seems suspicious.”

He paused and adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. “But I haven’t tampered with anyone’s car. If something came loose under the hood, it’s probably age. These cars aren’t exactly showroom condition.”

Dawn watched him, silent, trying to read what lay behind the nervous smile and carefully chosen words. Jennifer, beside her, didn’t speak either, but the skeptical lift of her brow was impossible to miss.

Albridge cleared his throat again and added, “Look, if you’d rather I didn’t touch it, I completely understand. I just thought I could get you back on the road.” He gestured toward the engine. “Otherwise, maybe it’s best to have a shop take a look. Somewhere with a lift and a diagnostic kit.”

There was a stillness in the air now — expectant, unresolved — as if the car wasn’t the only thing stuck in a delicate stall.


As the silence stretched just a beat too long, Mr. Albridge shifted his footing, glanced again between the two women, and gave a stiff nod.

“Well,” he said, stepping back from the open hood, “I’ll leave you ladies to it. If you need anything… I’ll be inside.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and walked briskly toward the building, the click of his shoes echoing briefly across the lot before fading.

Dawn exhaled slowly, still watching him retreat.

Jennifer waited until he was fully out of earshot, then stepped closer and said quietly, “He’s hiding something.”

Dawn looked over at her, uncertain. “You think so? I mean… he could be telling the truth. It’s not like my car hasn’t been difficult before.”

Jennifer shrugged but didn’t look convinced. “Maybe. But I know engines. I’ve had stubborn cars too. And that spark plug wire — earlier — it didn’t fall off by itself. Someone pulled it.”

Dawn crossed her arms, chewing her lower lip. “I want to believe it’s just bad luck… but it’s weird. First my car, then yours. All at the same place. And every time we get close to leaving, the car won’t start.”

Jennifer leaned against the fender, her voice lower now. “And he was watching us. From the window. Remember?”

“Yeah,” Dawn said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I do.”

The late afternoon sun dipped toward the horizon, casting long shadows through the lot. The Volare sat still, its engine cool and stubborn. The quiet hum of distant traffic filled the silence between them.

Jennifer finally broke it. “If you want, I can drive you home. And tomorrow, maybe we talk to someone who really knows cars. Away from here.”

Dawn nodded, her voice soft but resolute. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”


Dawn slid back into the driver’s seat, her expression tight with focus. "Let me try it one last time," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Jennifer stood beside the open door, arms crossed, watching closely.

Dawn pressed the gas pedal down slowly, then gave a few steady pumps, her foot smooth and practiced. She twisted the key.

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew—chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew—
sputter—cough—chew-chew-chew-chew…

Both women froze.

Jennifer leaned in slightly. “Wait… that was something.”

Dawn’s eyes widened. “Yeah. That’s the most it’s done all afternoon.”

Jennifer nodded. “It wanted to catch. You hear that? It tried.”

Dawn kept her hand on the key, her foot poised over the gas pedal. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence now felt different — not tense, but charged with possibility.

Jennifer glanced toward the engine, then back at Dawn. “That wasn’t nothing. Maybe it’s not sabotage. Maybe it’s just… finally getting fuel. Or the spark catching. Whatever it was… it’s close.”

Dawn exhaled, her breath shaky. “Close, yeah. But not enough.”

They both stared at the quiet dashboard. Then Jennifer said, “You want to give it one more try?”

Dawn nodded. “Yeah… but if this doesn’t work, we call it for today.”

Jennifer gave a small smile. “Deal.”

And they prepared, together, for one last attempt.


ploomp ploomp ploomp ploomp

Dawn's pantyhose-clad foot pumped the gas pedal steadily, rhythmically, coaxing life into the old Volare. She glanced at Jennifer, gave a quick breath of focus, and twisted the key again.

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew—putt-pit—chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew

The engine sputtered for the briefest second — just a flicker of combustion — then fell right back into its dull, lifeless cranking.

“Ugh!” Dawn groaned, slumping back against the seat. “It sounded like it tried for a split second.”

Jennifer leaned closer, eyes narrowed with cautious optimism. “I heard it too.”

They sat in silence for a beat, letting the moment settle. That tiny flicker of life changed something — no longer were they dealing with pure failure. Now, the car was teasing them, hovering on the edge of starting.

Jennifer nodded toward the hood. “It’s getting closer. I swear, if the battery holds up, you might just get it.”

Dawn stared at the dash, her hand still resting on the key. “It wants to live,” she said dryly, half-joking — but there was a quiet determination in her voice now.

Jennifer grinned. “Then let’s bring it back. One pedal pump at a time.”


Dawn hesitated, then smiled softly. “You know what? Would you try to start it?”

Jennifer pursed her lips, a playful glint in her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d ever ask. I’ve been wanting to all afternoon, but you seemed... determined.”

Dawn’s cheeks warmed with a flush of surprise and curiosity — unsure what Jennifer meant exactly, but she slid out of the driver’s seat with a small laugh.

Jennifer settled in behind the wheel and immediately began pumping the gas pedal steadily, her pantyhose-clad foot moving with practiced confidence. Dawn watched, a little mesmerized by the difference in Jennifer’s rhythm — more assured, more fluid than her own.

After a few steady pumps, Jennifer twisted the key.

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew—chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew

The engine cranked long and hard, but stubbornly refused to catch.

The silence that followed felt heavy. Both women sat frozen, disappointment settling deep.

Jennifer sighed, biting her lip. “Not yet.”

Dawn nodded slowly, the weight of frustration mirrored in her eyes. “Yeah... not yet.”

For a moment, they just sat there, connected by the stubborn silence of a car that wouldn’t start — but also by the quiet understanding between them.


Dawn stretched her legs out, still watching Jennifer’s foot rest lightly on the gas pedal. “You know, your cranking style is so different from mine. You’re aggressive but... somehow subtle at the same time.”

Jennifer smiled thoughtfully. “Yeah? I guess it’s kind of a balancing act. I learned early on that pumping too hard or too fast can flood the engine or choke the carburetor. But not pumping enough just leaves it gas-starved.”

She pumped the pedal lightly with her toe. “So I try to keep it steady, consistent — enough to keep fuel flowing but not so much that it drowns the engine. It’s all about rhythm. Like coaxing a song out of a piano.”

Dawn nodded slowly, intrigued. “That makes sense. I just end up stomping on it or getting impatient.”

Jennifer laughed softly. “Hey, sometimes that works too. Depends on the car. But this one seems to need patience more than power.”

They exchanged a glance, a quiet camaraderie forming in the shared struggle against the old engine’s stubbornness.


Dawn shifted a little, her cheeks coloring as she glanced down at Jennifer’s legs—sheer nude pantyhose stretched perfectly over smooth skin, ending in those striking red espadrille wedges. “You know,” Dawn said softly, “those pantyhose… and your wedges — they look amazing. What brand are they?”

Jennifer smiled knowingly, clearly used to the compliment. “Thanks, Dawn. The pantyhose are Wolford. They’re silky, durable, and just sheer enough to look natural but still smooth out every line.”

She tapped the heel of her wedge with a toe. “And these? They’re from Soludos. Espadrilles with a cushioned sole, perfect for a summer day — stylish but comfortable. Plus, the wedges give just the right lift without being too high.”

Dawn’s eyes lingered on the details — the subtle sheen of the pantyhose, the woven texture of the wedges. She seemed transfixed, nodding slowly as Jennifer spoke. “They really suit you… and they’re so different from what I usually wear.”

Jennifer chuckled softly. “Sometimes, it’s fun to mix it up. And honestly, a good pair of pantyhose and shoes can make all the difference — even when you’re wrestling with a stubborn old car.”

Dawn smiled, feeling a little spark of inspiration — and maybe a hint of admiration.


Jennifer, feeling the warmth of their newfound openness, smiled and said, “You know, Dawn, you really make those tennis shoes and pantyhose work together. It’s a unique look, but you pull it off so well. What brand are those shoes? And how did you get into wearing pantyhose all the time?”

Dawn’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she met Jennifer’s eyes and started softly, “Thanks… these are Toms. I like them because they’re simple and comfortable, and they break in nicely over time.”

She paused, then grew a bit bolder, warming to the conversation. “As for the pantyhose… well, it started in high school. At first, it was just because I liked the way they looked — smooth, a little bit polished even with casual clothes. But then, I realized I liked how they felt too — light, almost like a second skin. I even started wearing them to sleep sometimes.”

Dawn smiled thoughtfully. “It became part of how I express myself — kind of a quiet confidence, you know? And maybe it’s a little quirky, but I like that. It’s me.”

Jennifer nodded, impressed by the honest and thoughtful answer. “I get that. It’s cool to see someone who really owns their style like that.”

The moment lingered comfortably between them—a quiet bond over something simple but meaningful.


Dawn shifted slightly, her cheeks tinged with a shy pink as she added, “Honestly, part of why I always wear pantyhose — even when it seems silly — is because it feels like an extra layer of protection. Like, if I’m alone and my car won’t start, it’s something between me and the men who might try to... hurt me. They kind of make me feel safer.”

Jennifer’s eyes softened with understanding. She gave Dawn a knowing glance and nodded gently. “I get that. There was this one time I had car trouble late at night, wearing my favorite sheer pantyhose and heels. I was stuck on a quiet street, and I remember feeling exposed, vulnerable… but that little layer made me feel a bit more guarded, like I still had some say in the situation.”

Jennifer smiled warmly. “It’s funny how something so simple can give you that kind of comfort.”

Dawn smiled back, grateful for the shared understanding. “Exactly. It’s like armor, but soft.”

Jennifer chuckled softly. “Armor made of silk and nylon.”

"And spandex", Dawn added with a smile. "Sometimes I need spandex."


Dawn smiled and paused for a moment, her gaze drifting just a bit as if weighing her words.

Jennifer noticed and waited patiently, giving her space without pressing.

Finally, Dawn spoke, her voice quiet but steady. “You know, a lot of men seem to really notice when I wear pantyhose. It’s like it catches their eye, even when I don’t mean it to.”

She chuckled lightly, then went on. “There was this one cute guy I went out with a few times—he was totally upfront about it. Told me he had a thing for girls who wear pantyhose. Said it was something about the way it made the legs look… smooth, polished, a little mysterious.”

Jennifer’s smile grew wide, her eyes lighting up as she listened. Dawn’s openness made the moment feel genuine and warm.

Dawn continued, “At first, I wasn’t sure what to think, but it was kind of nice… to be seen like that, in a way that felt special.”

Jennifer nodded, clearly enjoying hearing about Dawn’s experiences. “It’s funny how something so simple can have that effect. Makes you feel like you’ve got a little secret, doesn’t it?”

Dawn laughed softly. “Yeah. Like a quiet confidence that only some people get to notice.”

Dawn’s smile faded just a little as she leaned back and sighed softly. “Of course,” she said, “there’s a downside to all that attention. Like that guy I saw earlier — he was way too bold about liking pantyhose and car trouble. It didn’t feel right. It was more like he was... obsessed, not just interested.”

She glanced at Jennifer, a hint of discomfort in her eyes. “That kind of boldness? It can be a turn-off. It made me feel uneasy, like I wasn’t a person, just some... thing for him.”

Jennifer nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, there’s a difference between appreciation and obsession. It’s important to feel respected.”

Dawn smiled weakly, grateful Jennifer understood. “Exactly. I like being noticed, but I want it to be because of me — not just the pantyhose or the car trouble.”

Jennifer reached over and gave Dawn’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You deserve that. Always.”


Jennifer’s smile faded as Dawn’s story sparked a memory. She glanced toward the parking lot and then back at Dawn. “You know,” she began slowly, “earlier today, when I was waiting by my car, I saw someone under your hood. It was a man — older, with a kind of nervous energy about him. He was fiddling with the engine, but it didn’t look like he was doing anything helpful.”

Jennifer paused, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It felt strange — like he was hiding something. I wanted to call out, but I wasn’t sure if I should.”

She looked at Dawn, concern in her eyes. “Did you notice anything odd when you looked under your hood before?”

Dawn’s brow furrowed, the memory clicking into place. “Now that you mention it, I thought I saw something move, like a wire was disconnected or shifted. I just thought maybe the car was acting up, but…”

Jennifer nodded. “Yeah. It just didn’t sit right with me. Maybe that guy wasn’t just trying to help.”

Dawn’s eyes narrowed slightly, a mix of suspicion and resolve settling in. “Thanks for telling me, Jennifer. That could explain a lot.”

The two shared a quiet moment, both understanding that the mystery behind the car troubles was deeper than just mechanical issues.


Dawn furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “You said it was an older guy? Not the young man I went out with a few times a while back?”

Jennifer nodded, shaking her head gently. “No, definitely older. He looked like he was in his late 50s or early 60s — graying hair, a bit hunched over. Not at all like the guy you dated.”

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “He seemed almost nervous, like he was trying to avoid being noticed. I got the impression he knew more about your car troubles than he let on.”

Jennifer glanced around, then back at Dawn. “Honestly, it felt a little… off. Like he wasn’t just there to help. I don’t think he had your best interests at heart.”

Dawn sighed, a mix of frustration and suspicion creeping in. “That fits with how stubborn the car’s been lately. Maybe this guy’s been tampering with it.”

Jennifer gave a supportive nod. “We should keep an eye out. If he’s involved, we need to figure out what he’s up to.”



Dawn paused, her brow furrowing as the realization settled in. “You know,” she said slowly, “even though that guy shouldn’t have been working on my car, it’s always been a hard starter. Maybe this isn’t entirely his doing.”

Jennifer nodded thoughtfully, both of them quiet for a moment as they considered the possibility.

Dawn shifted her weight beside the open door, watching as Jennifer steadied her foot on the gas pedal and began pumping it again — slow, rhythmic.

chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-putt-pit-chew-chew-chew-puff-puff-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-chew-POOF!

The engine sputtered, coughed a few times, then finally expelled a thick cloud of black smoke from the muffler.

Both women instinctively recoiled a bit, their eyes meeting.

“That can’t be good,” Jennifer murmured, concern lining her voice.

Dawn nodded, biting her lip. “Black smoke usually means something bad, right? I really hope it’s not something major.”

Jennifer gave a small, reassuring smile. “Maybe it’s just a rough patch. But yeah, we should keep an eye on it — and maybe find a mechanic we trust soon.”

Dawn agreed, her fingers lingering on the edge of the hood. “For now, let’s hope it holds together long enough to get us there.”


Dawn stood there, both hands resting gently on her big round butt, lost in thought as she tried to figure out her next move. The warm sunlight caught the subtle sheen of her pantyhose, and for a moment, she simply breathed it in — the quiet tension of the afternoon settling around them.

Jennifer, sat quietly, smoothed the sheer fabric of her Wolford pantyhose over her calf, watching Dawn with a soft smile. She sensed Dawn’s quiet contemplation and patiently waited, giving her the space to gather her thoughts.

For a fleeting moment, Jennifer’s eyes drifted, and she found herself quietly wishing she could reach out, place her hands gently on Dawn’s butt. But she held back, letting the moment pass.


Dawn blinked, shaking off her thoughts. She pursed her lips, tugging her skirt down just a bit more as if grounding herself. Then, with a soft but hopeful tone, she asked, “Jennifer, would you… would you mind giving me a ride home?”

Jennifer slid out of the driver’s seat, smoothing her skirt and pantyhose with a practiced hand. She gave Dawn a warm smile. “Sure thing. Mind if we stop and get some gas first?”

Dawn’s eyes lit up, a little more enthusiasm than she intended spilling out. “Yes! I mean… yes, please. I was hoping your gas gauge wasn’t working right. I saw the needle, it looked like it was passed Empty.”

Jennifer chuckled softly, the mood lightening between them. “Running out of gas is the worst. I’ve had a few memorable moments with that.”

Dawn nodded, laughing quietly. “Me too. Today being my most recent adventure.”

The two women settled into an easy conversation, exchanging stories of past times they’d been stranded, the awkwardness, the little frustrations — and somehow, the small lessons they’d taken away. They both acknowledged, with a mix of amusement and resignation, that Dawn’s earlier run on empty was part of the ongoing saga of her car troubles. Yet, sharing the stories brought a comforting camaraderie to the afternoon.


Dawn locked her car, and then the two ladies strolled over to the Chevette, the soft afternoon light catching the shimmer of their pantyhose as they chatted about past gas station mishaps. Jennifer recounted a time she ran out of gas right at a stop sign, her voice animated as she primed the carburetor, her foot gently pressing the gas pedal in a steady rhythm. For about thirty seconds, she worked the carburetor while continuing her story, the engine quietly responding with faint clicks.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr

Finally, she twisted the key. The engine cranked for a long moment but didn’t start.

Both women exchanged a glance and sat quietly for a beat, the tension hanging just beneath the surface.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-pit-pit-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-prrrump--prrrump--putt-pit-pit-vrrroooommmmmm

Then Jennifer shifted her weight, pressing down steadily on the gas pedal, pumping with a measured rhythm. She twisted the key again, and after about ten seconds, the engine sputtered, coughed, and finally came to life with a ragged but steady hum.

Dawn let out a relieved breath, a small smile breaking through. “See? Sometimes it just takes a little patience.”

At the gas station, they stood side by side at the back of the Chevette as Jennifer carefully filled the gas tank, the soft hiss of fuel filling the quiet air between them. Jennifer shifted her weight from one espadrille wedge to the other, the subtle sway giving her a graceful rhythm. Nearby, a couple of passing drivers honked playfully, their attention drawn to Dawn as she adjusted her sheer Hanes pantyhose with a practiced, effortless motion.

Their eyes met for a brief moment — an unspoken exchange filled with a mix of amusement, slight embarrassment, and a shared understanding of the unusual situation they found themselves in. Both women smiled softly, acknowledging the moment without words, their connection deepening quietly as they finished filling the tank.


Jennifer twisted the key and held it for about fifteen seconds, the engine groaned but refused to come to life.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr

“Ugh! I hope the engine’s not too hot now,” Jennifer muttered, her frustration clear.

Dawn shifted in her seat, a bit nervous, absentmindedly rubbing the tops of her thighs through the sheer fabric of her pantyhose. The soft motion was soothing, a quiet comfort amid the tension.

Jennifer’s knee bobbed quickly pumping the gas as she turned the key again, but the engine still didn’t start.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr

She eased off the key and let the engine rest just as a few guys walked out of the store, heading toward their vehicle nearby. Jennifer caught their glances, and the moment stretched out — charged and lingering, a quiet pause hanging heavy in the air between the two women.



<<<<<  AUTHOR WRITTEN  >>>>>

The guys began to back out of the spot and stopped briefly next to the ladies as their vehicle shifted out of reverse. The driver was handsome. He smiled and said 'hi' with a small wave and shifted into drive.



<<<<<  AI WRITTEN  >>>>>

Dawn glanced at Jennifer, then back to the handsome driver, giving a polite smile and a soft, “Hi.” Jennifer returned the wave with a nod, her lips curling into a friendly, slightly shy smile.

“Hi,” Jennifer said warmly, keeping her eyes briefly on the driver as his car rolled smoothly forward.

The brief exchange left a flutter of curiosity lingering in the air as the guys pulled away, leaving the ladies to focus back on their stubborn car and the quiet evening ahead.



<<<<<  AUTHOR WRITTEN  >>>>>

Jennifer's espadrille wedge flattened the gas pedal after the guys idled away onto the road and twisted the key. Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr The engine didn't start again.

Dawn leaned over and looked at the gas gauge. It registered on Full.

Jennifer suddenly laughed uncontrollably at Dawn for a few months.

Dawn smiled after a few seconds. What?? I was just wondering...



<<<<<  AI WRITTEN  >>>>>

Jennifer wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling softly. “I’m sorry, Dawn. It’s just — your car ran out of gas earlier, but now the gauge says it’s full? That’s just classic.”

Dawn laughed along, shaking her head. “I was just wondering if maybe the gas gauge has a mind of its own — kind of like this stubborn engine.”

Jennifer grinned as quickly lifted her firm hips and pulled her skirt back down. "I think I've given enough guys a show tonight." She smoothed the clingy dress and smoothed her Wolford pantyhose again.

They shared a warm smile, the tension easing as they settled in for whatever the night might bring.

paloomp paloomp paloomp paloomp paloomp paloomp paloomp paloomp

Dawn’s eyes followed Jennifer’s pantyhose-clad leg as it moved with a gentle rhythm, the fabric wrinkling and smoothing with each press of the gas pedal. The sound of the engine sputtering and struggling filled the small car, rising and falling in fits.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-putt-putt-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-Prupp-up-up-vrrooommmm-putt-putt-knock-pit-pit--pit-pfft

The engine finally caught for a brief moment before stalling again, leaving both women exchanging worried glances. The frustration was mounting, but so was their shared determination.

Just then, a man stepped out of the store nearby. He caught the ladies’ eyes as they watched him, and he offered a sheepish wave before sliding into his vehicle and driving away.

Dawn and Jennifer exchanged a quiet, knowing look — the night was far from over, and help was still nowhere in sight.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-putt-putt-rrr-rrr—pit-putt-pit-rrr-rrr-rrr

Jennifer kept her red espadrille wedge pressed firmly on the gas pedal, her leg steady as she twisted the key with deliberate patience. The engine coughed and puffed a small cloud of smoke but refused to roar to life.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr—puff-rrr-rrr-rrr-puff

Across the way, the male gas station attendant’s eyes caught theirs, holding Dawn’s gaze for a few tense moments. Dawn smoothed her skirt over her hips, fingers brushing the sheer fabric of her pantyhose as she pursed her lips, doing her best to mask the flutter of nerves rising inside her.

Jennifer gave a subtle, reassuring glance to Dawn, silently sharing the awkward tension hanging between them and the attendant’s watchful stare. The night felt charged — fragile, uncertain — as if every moment could tip the balance one way or the other.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-pit-pit-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-puff-rrr-rrr—puff-rrr-rrr

paloomp paloomp paloomp paloomp paloomp

Rrrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-putt-putt-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-Prupp-up-up-vrrooommmm-putt-putt-knock-pit-pit-vrrroommmmm

Dawn’s eyes stayed on Jennifer as she expertly pumped the gas pedal, her body weight moving in a graceful rhythm that somehow combined determination with effortless femininity. The engine finally responded — black smoke billowing briefly from the muffler before settling into a rough but steady idle.

Relief washed over both women like a breath of fresh air. Dawn’s awe was obvious, her words caught somewhere between surprise and admiration. “Wow... that was...” she started, trailing off, still caught up in the moment.

Jennifer chuckled softly and shifted the car into drive. “Yeah, that was kind of tense,” she admitted with a grin.

As they pulled away from the pump, Dawn caught sight of the attendant watching them, and—perhaps feeling a touch of gratitude or connection—gave a friendly wave. Jennifer noticed and smiled, amused by Dawn’s gesture.

The attendant gave a small nod in return as the car disappeared down the road, the quiet tension of the moment fading into the evening air.


<<<<  AUTHOR WRITTEN  >>>>>

They arrived in the apartment parking lot.

Well, that was an... interesting day. Jennifer said.

It was, Dawn agreed. I appreciate the company, help, and the ride home.

You're welcome! It's been a pleasure other than all the car trouble.

They discussed whether Dawn wanted a ride the next or if she would have her car towed for a few minutes as the car idled, still sounding like it needed to be warmed up some more.


<<<<<  AI WRITTEN  >>>>>

Dawn glanced at the idling car, its rough engine growling softly, and sighed. “Honestly, I’m not sure if it’s going to hold up much longer,” she admitted. “I might need to get it towed tomorrow just to be safe.”

Jennifer nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense. But if you want, I’m more than happy to give you a ride again. It’s no trouble.”

Dawn smiled warmly, appreciating the offer. “Thank you, Jennifer. I might take you up on that. For now, I just want to get inside and relax.”

Jennifer returned the smile. “Sounds like a plan. You’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

They shared a brief laugh as the car idled, a quiet reminder of the day’s struggles — and the unexpected friendship that came with it.


<<<<  AUTHOR WRITTEN  >>>>>

A minor toot of a horn announced a car moving slowly towards them.

Let me park real quick, Jennifer said as she let her foot slide from the brake pedal and gently applied pressure to the gas pedal, but nothing happened.


<<<<<  AI WRITTEN  >>>>>

The car didn't budge as Jennifer pressed the gas pedal again.

Jennifer’s brow furrowed. “Uh-oh... it’s not moving.”

Dawn glanced over, concern flickering in her eyes. “Looks like your car's not done giving you trouble yet.”

Jennifer noticed the dummy lights on the dash again. The engine must have stalled quietly as they talked.

Jennifer let out a small, frustrated sigh. “Yeah, I guess this stubborn Chevette isn’t ready to let me win just yet.”

They both laughed softly, the tension easing a bit despite the persistent car troubles.

The another minor toot of the horn behind them, a patient but firm reminder.

Jennifer kept cranking the engine, her espadrille wedged firmly on the gas pedal.

Rrrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-pit-pit-rrr—rrr-prrt-prrt-rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr

The engine sputtered but stubbornly refused to catch.

Dawn glanced nervously in the rearview mirror, then back at Jennifer, who gave a small, apologetic smile.

“I’m really sorry,” Jennifer said quietly. “Looks like this day just isn’t over with us yet.”

rrr-rrr—rrr-rrr-rrr-prupp-bup-bup-vroommp-putt-putt-knock-pit-pit-

The car wobbled awkwardly, the puffing smoke curling around their windows as Jennifer kept the gas pedal pinned to the floor, her grip tight on the steering wheel.

putt-putt-knock-pit-pit-bup-bup-vroommp-putt-

Dawn’s brow furrowed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The rough, hesitant rumble of the engine made her stomach twist with worry.

bup-bup-vroomp-putt-bup-bup-vroooomp-putt-putt-knock-

“Looks like she’s hanging on by a thread,” Dawn murmured, eyes flicking between the struggling engine and Jennifer’s determined face.

bup-bup-bruump-vroommp-putt-putt-knock-knock

Jennifer gave a shaky breath. “I think... I think we’re just going to have to nurse her home.”

The car lurched forward, swaying gently as the two women braced themselves for the slow, uncertain journey ahead.


<<<<<  AUTHOR WRITTEN  >>>>>

Jennifer tried to maneuver the car out of the way, but the engine stalled.

Dawn looked back at the vehicle and noticed that they were blocking the road more now.

Jennifer flattened the gas pedal and turned the key again.

Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr

Jennifer looked in the rearview mirror at the vehicle behind and noticed smoke puffing from the back of the car as it cranked for about 15 seconds.

The vehicle began to back up and stopped

-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr

Dawn looked back at the vehicle as Jennifer cranked the engine again and saw the smoke puffing from the back. Dawn noticed that the engine was turning slower now.


<<<<<  AI WRITTEN  >>>>>

Jennifer pushed the gas pedal down again and turned the key.

Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr

Jennifer glanced nervously in the rearview mirror as a faint puff of smoke rose from the exhaust. The engine was struggling, turning slower than before. Behind them, the car waiting patiently began to back up, then stopped.

Dawn looked back and noticed the worry on Jennifer’s face. The car’s slow cranking and smoke weren’t good signs.

Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr-Rrrr

“It sounds like the battery is dying,” Dawn said quietly.

Rrrr-Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr---Rrrr---Rrrr

Jennifer nodded, her grip tightening on the wheel as she tried again, hoping for just a little more life from the stubborn engine.

Rrrr-Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--prrump--knock-knock--putt--putt-pit-putt

Jennifer tried once more, turning the key while keeping the gas pedal pressed firmly. The engine sputtered to life briefly, but as soon as she shifted into Drive, it stalled again.

bup-bump--putt-putt-knock-pit-pit--pfft

Dawn glanced away, nervously rubbing her thighs as the last wisps of smoke faded from the exhaust. The uneasy silence between them stretched a little longer.

“Maybe we should call someone,” Dawn finally said, her voice low but steady.



<<<<< AUTHOR WRITTEN  >>>>>

Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--brrump---brrump-

Yeah probably. Let me see if can move out of the way a little more. Jennifer twisted the key again. The engine turned slower and finally started again. It barely ran and the puffs of smoke becoming and larger.

knock--putt--putt-pit-putt-putt-knock-pit-pit-pfft

Dawn watched the thickening smoke billowing from the back of the car for a few moments and then the smoke stopped and disappated.

Two guys slowly got out the car behind and tapped the car. One guy asked Jennifer to put the car in neutral and the two guys pushed car out of way..

The two guys looked the ladies and both immediately noticed that they were wearing pantyhose.



<<<<<  AI WRITTEN  >>>>>

Jennifer and Dawn exchanged a quick glance, both noticing the men’s brief but unmistakable glance at their pantyhose-clad legs.

Jennifer gave a polite, confident smile, tilting her head slightly as if acknowledging the attention without inviting more. Dawn, feeling a little self-conscious but steady, adjusted her skirt calmly and returned a friendly nod.

Neither wanted to encourage lingering looks, but both carried themselves with quiet assurance.


Jennifer and Dawn watched as the guys quickly retreated to their own car, clearly called back by their girlfriends.

Jennifer chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Well, that was a close call.”

Dawn smiled, a bit relieved. “Yeah, definitely didn’t want to get stuck in any awkward conversations tonight.”

They shared a knowing look, glad the moment passed without any fuss.

Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr---parrrruup--prrrp--pit-pit

Jennifer tried the engine again. It turned slower and puffed more smoke at the reduced rate of the engine and finally began wobbling again as the engine barely started.

prrrp--room--pit-pit-knock--brrrup

Dawn watched Jennifer swaying with the car and then watched the car passed them.

Good luck the passenger called.


Jennifer gave a tired smile and nodded toward the car passing by.

“Thanks,” she replied, gripping the steering wheel as the engine shuddered beneath her.

Dawn sighed softly, her eyes still on the struggling engine. “Let’s just get you home before anything else happens.”

Jennifer nodded, determination mixed with exhaustion in her gaze as she eased the car forward, every bump reminding them how fragile their ride really was.


The two ladies sat quietly inside the idling car in front of Dawn’s apartment. The engine still sputtered and smoked, but it seemed to be settling down a little. Dawn glanced at Jennifer, who was leaning back with a tired but relieved expression.

“Hopefully it’ll clear out soon,” Dawn said softly.

Jennifer nodded, staring ahead but lost in thought. “Yeah… I just want it to last long enough to get me home.”

They shared a brief, understanding look — both grateful for the company, even in the midst of such a frustrating day.


Dawn’s gaze lingered on Jennifer’s espadrille wedge pressing firmly against the gas pedal, the gentle sway of the car matching the subtle movement of their bodies. The engine continued to sputter unevenly, the smoke lingering thickly around them, stubbornly refusing to clear.

Caught between frustration and a strange, quiet tension, Dawn tried to focus elsewhere but found her thoughts drifting, drawn to Jennifer’s calm, absorbed expression. Jennifer seemed lost in her own world, a mix of determination and weariness in her eyes.

For a moment, the rolling groans of the struggling engine and the swaying motion wrapped around them like a shared secret — uneasy yet oddly comforting.

parrrup--prrp--prrp-prrp--knock--pit--knock-knock--knock--knock----knock--pffft

Rrrr--Rrrr--Rrrr---Rrrr---Rrrr---Rrrr---R-rrr---R-rrr---R-rrr

Jennifer kept her foot on the gas, but the engine fell silent. The car jolted slightly as everything went still and the smoke from the exhaust finally stopped. Dawn shifted uncomfortably in her seat, glancing over at Jennifer, who exhaled sharply and turned the key again. The starter groaned as the engine turned slowly — each crank weaker than the last. Jennifer bounced slightly in the seat as she tried to coax the car back to life, but the battery was clearly fading. Dawn recognized the signs; she’d been through this kind of moment before. The tension hung in the air — quiet, frustrating, and oddly familiar.

R-rrr--R-rrr---R-rrr---R-rrr----R-rrr---R-rr-r---R-rr-r---R-r-r-r---R--r-r--r

Dawn leaned toward the dashboard, peering at the gauges like they might give her a different answer. “I guess the battery’s dead,” she said quietly, more to confirm the obvious than anything else.

R-rr-r---R-r-r-r----R-rr-r-r--R-rr-r---R-r-r-r---R-r--r---r

Jennifer’s knee bounced with frustration. “Let me just try one more time,” she muttered. She twisted the key. This time, there was only a short buzz from the starter, followed by a series of rapid clicks — classic sign of a drained battery.

R-rr-r---R-r-r-r---R-r--r---prtrtrtrtrtrtrtr-tr-tr-tr-tr--tr---tr--click-click---click---click--ah-------click

“Ugh! Yep. I hate when this happens,” Jennifer said, slumping back into the seat.

Dawn reached over and placed a gentle hand on Jennifer’s arm. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said, her tone warm and reassuring. “We’ve done everything we could. Honestly, I don’t know anyone else who could’ve gotten this far with it.”

Jennifer turned and gave a small, tired smile. “Thanks. That actually helps more than you think.”

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” Dawn added. “Right now, you’ve earned a break.”

Jennifer nodded. “Yeah… maybe some tea and a blanket instead of exhaust fumes.”

They both laughed lightly, the tension finally giving way to a bit of shared relief.

trtrtrtr-tr--tr--tr--tr--tr---tr---tr--click-click---click---click--ah-------click

Dawn watched quietly as Jennifer, with a determined expression, pressed the gas pedal to the floor one last time and turned the key. The starter clicked rapidly—once, twice, a dozen times — before slowing to a final, labored click—ah-mm... and then silence.

“That’s it,” Jennifer said softly, staring at the dashboard as the lights dimmed out completely.

Dawn let out a slow breath. “Dead for sure now.”

They both sat there for a moment, listening to the soft ticking of the cooling engine, the quiet settling around them like a blanket. There was nothing left to do tonight — except accept the stillness.


<<<<<  AUTHOR WRITTEN  >>>>>

The two couples who had passed them a few minutes before emerged and were walking in their general direction. One loudly suggested they push the ladies' car into a parking spot.

Jennifer and Dawn looked at each other. "I wonder how this will go over" Jennifer said.

The two couples approached. The guys offered to push the car into a spot.


<<<<<  AI WRITTEN  >>>>>

One of the girlfriends narrowed her eyes and smirked. "Really? You offering to help, or just hypnotized by the pantyhose on their legs?" she said, elbowing her boyfriend lightly.

The other woman rolled her eyes playfully. "They’ve been staring at them since the gas station," she said loud enough for everyone to hear, though her tone was more teasing than angry.

Jennifer glanced at Dawn, who gave a small shrug, half amused, half embarrassed.

“Uh, the car’s dead,” Jennifer offered, trying to redirect the moment. “But if you’re still up for pushing, we won’t say no.”

One of the guys raised his hands with a sheepish grin. “Strictly mechanical assistance, promise.”

The girlfriends exchanged knowing glances, and one added with a smirk, “Just make sure your eyes stay on the bumper, not the legs.”

The tension eased into chuckles all around as the group got into position to help.


<<<<<  AUTHOR WRITTEN  >>>>>

One of the guys clearly stared directly at Dawn's round butt swaying in her tight mini skirt as she pushed on the passenger side door. The other guy watched how Jennifer stepped in her espadrille wedges as she pushed.


<<<<<  AI WRITTEN  >>>>>

As the car rolled gently into the parking spot, the group gave one final push before stepping back. Jennifer set the brake and sighed in relief.

"Thank you all so much," Jennifer said, brushing her hands together. "Seriously. We were stuck."

Dawn nodded. "Yeah, we really appreciate it. You saved us from blocking the whole drive."

The guys gave quick nods and polite smiles, but tension brewed just a few steps behind them. One of the girlfriends crossed her arms and muttered, “Unbelievable. Can’t believe how obvious you were with those ladies.”

Jennifer and Dawn exchanged a glance, eyebrows raised.

"Wow," Jennifer whispered with a slight smirk. "That escalated."

Dawn leaned closer. “We didn’t even do anything.”

Jennifer chuckled under her breath. “I guess just existing was enough.”

They shared a quiet laugh and headed toward Dawn’s apartment, leaving the awkward drama behind them as the couple’s voices faded into the background.


Back in front of the apartment, Dawn unlocked the door and gestured warmly. “You want to come in and wash up? I’ve got cold water, maybe a soda or something if you need.”

Jennifer gave a tired smile. “Honestly, that sounds perfect. I’ll call an Uber real quick.”

They stepped inside, the air cooler and calmer than the lingering humidity outside. Jennifer glanced around the modest living room, noting the cozy clutter of someone who wasn’t expecting company.

“Bathroom’s just down the hall on the right,” Dawn offered, toeing off her sneakers and grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen.

Jennifer nodded, disappearing for a moment before returning with damp hands and a refreshed expression. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“No problem,” Dawn replied as she sat on the couch. “You want that soda?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Jennifer said, checking her phone. “Ride should be here in about ten.”

They sat in a comfortable quiet, the chaos of the day slowly giving way to calm.

“Despite everything… it was kind of nice not dealing with it alone,” Dawn said.

Jennifer looked over, her voice soft. “Yeah. I’d do it all again—minus the smoke and stalling.”

They both laughed lightly, tension easing with the end of the day in sight.


Dawn stood at the edge of the walkway, arms folded loosely as the red taillights of the Uber disappeared into the night. The breeze was still, but something about the moment gave her pause.

She squinted into the distance, replaying the few seconds when the car pulled up. Was that Mr. Albridge? The silhouette, the posture, even the casual nod toward her—it all felt familiar. But with the tinted windows and the quick pickup, she couldn’t be sure.

Jennifer hadn’t hesitated. Maybe she didn’t notice. Or maybe she had and just didn’t care.

The porch light clicked back on behind her, casting a warm glow over the front steps. Dawn took a breath and glanced up at the quiet sky. Whatever it was, it was probably nothing.

But still… she made a mental note to ask Jennifer about it later. Just in case.