DATING: AL DENTE Chapter 3: Stealth Boy (go to the previous page) I finally led him out the door and back to his car, and decided to play him for another 15 minutes, just for good measure. I leaned up against the bumper and coyly drew imaginary lines on the dew of the hood and watched as the magic of the vehicle transformed him from a lost confused colour-blind boy into an exited but rather frightened colour-blind boy who knew how to drive a stick. I demanded that he take me for a ride...as he was explaining how one of the buttons on the dash could make the engine louder or softer depending on how cool the driver needed to appear to outside viewers, I was cooing false approval while nonchalantly showing a bit more leg...then we motored around the block, Zeppelin blasting while doing 90 in a 50 zone right by the cop shop, just for the risk-of-arrest factor. My my, if he wasn't willing to be my slave on cue at that moment, I would have gladly eaten my panties. He pulled up to my car again and made his move -- he was gonna score, man! Fuckin' A!! His breath was close...the wind in my ear...but alas, I was out my door and waving "toodles" faster than he could squelch that none-too-obvious woody underneath his non-descript beige codger pants. Into the night and onto better boredom... Go back to the start. Or read other chapters of Dating: Al Dente Do YOU have any nightmare dates you'd like to share? Tell KillerQueen at killerqueen@spitemag.com. Misery loves company, after all. KillerQueen has genuine longings to chase storms. This is not a metaphor. Spite Home | Bile Cabinet Post A Message