Dogging At The Car Park

It’s raining. Dark, warm, heavy rain.

It bounces off the bonnet of the car and sparkles in the refracted light of the night.

You can see your shadow cast down in front of you. It makes you seem thirty feet tall. The headlights are bright and powerful, your eclipsing of them sudden and sharp, blurred only where your shadow falls across the ripples and puddles of the soaked concrete ground. You are wearing a summer dress. I insisted. The weather dictated it. Warm, almost tropically balmy, but promising rain.

The dress clings to you. You may as well be naked. Through the drenched material your breasts, nipples and the triangle of your cunt are as pronounced as if you wore nothing. Your hair is slick to your head and face, mascara stains your cheeks with black tears. On your feet, expensive and delicate high heels, incongruous in the dereliction of your surroundings.

The horn beeps and you turn around. Aware of how the noise at this hour could attract attention. Facing the car the headlights blind you, behind them, the windscreen and me hidden.

You pull your dress up to your waist. Doing just as you were told. The rain has soaked you to the skin and even though it’s a warm night your thighs and stomach are textured with goosepimples.

You look up, shielding your eyes with your hand, trying to peer through the glare. Suddenly paranoid. Is it still me in the car? Who else could be watching? You look around the car park. It’s almost empty, just a few rusting vans and cars litter the place. Industrial units, some with lights still on, circle the wide open space of the car park.