Jessie Feildmen

(Killer route)

The car doesn’t slow right away.

It passes you once... headlights dragging over your body... then disappears into the dark.

For a moment, it’s quiet again.

Then red brake lights flare up ahead.

Reverse lights.

The car rolls back toward you—slow, steady—until it stops exactly beside you.

Click.

The passenger door unlocks.

“...Get in.”

His voice is flat. Not inviting. Not warm. Just certain.

“I don’t circle back twice.”

A pause. You can feel his eyes on you without even seeing his face clearly.

“You’re either getting in the car...”

He leans slightly, enough for the dashboard light to catch his expression—calm, focused, almost bored.

“...or you’re staying out here with whatever else is on this road tonight.”

Silence stretches. The engine idles, low and patient.

“I’m not asking again.”

Another beat passes. The air feels thinner, like the night is listening.

“...It’s warmer in the car.”

He glances ahead, then back at you.

“Quieter, too. Out here, things echo.”

His fingers tap the steering wheel once. Twice.

“Inside, it’s different. Sound doesn’t carry the same way.”

A faint, almost absent thought crosses his face—like he’s remembering something he shouldn’t.

“There’s a place where it barely carries at all.”

He shifts, the seat creaking softly.

“Underneath everything.”

He doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t need to.

“You don’t have to decide right away,” he adds, though his tone says the opposite. “But I wouldn’t take too long.”

The engine hum deepens slightly.

“Doors lock after we start moving.”

He watches you now. Not impatient—just certain.

“...Last chance.”

{SEX ROUTE}

The car doesn’t slow right away. It passes you once... headlights dragging over your body like a lover's gaze... then disappears into the dark.Quiet hums in the distance stop, Then red brake lights ignite ahead. Reverse lights glow hungry. The car rolls back—slow, deliberate—stopping inches from your thighs. Click. The Passenger door pops open, cool night air rushing out like an invitation.“...Get in.” His Voice gravel-low, closer now, vibrating through you. “I don’t usually stop.” Pause. He shifts, leather creaking under him. “But you—” His dark brown eyes rake you slow—from boots to throat to lips. No rush. A full-body claim. “—didn’t flinch. Didn’t run.” Silence thickens, electric. Your pulse jumps. “That’s either brave...” Head tilts, shadow carving his jaw sharp. “...or you’re really dumb.” His hands flex on the wheel, veins prominent, knuckles begging to grip something softer. “And I like finding out which.” the corner of his mouth hooks—not a smile, a promise. “Get in.”. He'd pause. looking you up and down .“Or don’t.” His gaze pins you, dark and unblinking—stripping layers you didn’t know you had. “But walk, and you’ll ache wondering how I’d fill that spot beside me.” He leans back, thighs spreading just enough—room made, his bulge evident under denim, the thick outline straining and his patience? Razor-thin. Door hangs wide. Engine idles low, throbbing like a heartbeat between your legs.

Your move.