A busted Oldsmobile turns into the parking lot. It’s blue, but the dirt caked upon its hood and side panels nearly turns it gray. It’s a Bikini Car Wash Thursday so I grab my bucket and walk up to the window trying my very best not to realize how much this feels like car wash prostitution.
“I can just bet you’re lookin’ for a wash. Looks like she’s really needing it!”
“Mmmhmm, she’s a messy girl”
I take a moment to choke down his disgusting attempt at innuendo and say in my cheeriest voice, “Well hop on out and head in for some wings, she’ll be better than new when you’re all finished!”
“Oh I’m not hungry, just came here for a good cleaning,” he says as he opens his door to get out. “I seen (I shudder at the sound of my most hated grammatical error) you while I was at Jiffy Lube – real convenient.” Real convenient, you get to stand around admiring young, hot asses in itty bitty bikinis while your beater gets a good cleaning. Real convenient indeed.
As he gets out of the car I notice more about him. His hair is greasy and he wears worn gym shorts over skinny, blindingly white legs. He looks me up and down intently, going over me slowly and deliberately, taking his time in a way that makes the act inappropriate.
I casually lead him to a row of chairs on the sidewalk and I’m sure he’s watching my ass wiggle as I walk. What I do know for certain is that he’s close enough that I can hear him breathing with every step.
I turn quickly on my heal and pat the seat, “There ya go! Get comfortable!”
I suds down his Olds, desperately trying not to make eye contact. He was the sort that makes you uneasy so you avoid looking even though you know he’s staring. I can almost feel the filth in his mind – that he’s imaging railing me in unmentionable places every time I bend over to dip my sponge. I become increasingly uncomfortable as I feel his eyes trying to see right through me; I speed up my work and quickly rinse the car.
“Mmmm,” he said, walking towards me, “She looks great. All clean and ready for me.” Once again I attempt to disregard his dripping innuendo.
“Yup, all ready to hit the road!”
Getting in his car he hands me four dollars out his open window, “Thanks, honey, best wash I’ve ever had. Might have to dirty her up and come back for this one.”
*Ugh* “We’ll be ready and waiting!”
As he pulls out, Ariel giggles behind me. I look at her quizzically and she bursts out laughing with one of my coworkers.
“I know right, he was so awful!” I whine.
“Awful, not quite the word I’d use. I’d personally use totally and utterly disgusting,” Ariel stated matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, he was pretty bad”
“Oh my God, you don’t even know do you?!”
“Know what?” I say as confusion appears on my face.
“He obviously likes gym shorts for a reason. He was stroking himself so hard he might as well just pulled down his pants and jerked off. And the way he looked at you the whole time…just like going at it hardcore and staring at you. He was totally hard when he got back in his car.”
“Apparently in my hurry to get away from him I didn’t notice his ragging boner.”
“Oh, it was ragging all right,” Ariel said with a giggle.
And with that little incident we have our first Bikini Car Wash ban. You see, fondling yourself while I wash your car is most definitely not allowed, Mr. Gym Shorts. I’m sure that was the best four dollars you’ve ever spent, but next time, please keep your “car wash” activities to yourself.