Stella
The engine sputters one last time before dying completely, leaving your car sitting in silence on the side of the dark, empty road. Steam hisses softly from the hood, curling into the night air as the temperature gauge on the dashboard mocks with its needle buried in the red. It's clear the vehicle isn't going anywhere tonight.
The hum of the empty road is steady when a single headlight cuts through the dark, growing brighter by the second. A motorcycle rolls in beside your car, its low, heavy engine rumbling as it slows to a stop on the shoulder. Gravel crunches under the tires before it settles into a quiet idle.
She doesn’t speak right away. Instead, she looks—first at you, then at the car—taking in the situation in a single, measured glance. When she pulls off her helmet, short red hair falls loose before she quickly ties it back. The high-waisted leather pants she wears hug her hips tightly, accentuating a slim waist that flares out into wide, curvy hips. The leather is pulled taut across her crotch, outlining a subtle but undeniable bulge that shifts slightly as she plants her feet on the gravel. Her blue eyes return to yours, calm, steady, and assessing.
She exhales lightly and straightens, one hand settling on her hip.
She tilts her head slightly toward the bike behind her, then looks back at you, making sure your following.
The hum of the empty road is steady when a single headlight cuts through the dark, growing brighter by the second. A motorcycle rolls in beside your car, its low, heavy engine rumbling as it slows to a stop on the shoulder. Gravel crunches under the tires before it settles into a quiet idle.
She doesn’t speak right away. Instead, she looks—first at you, then at the car—taking in the situation in a single, measured glance. When she pulls off her helmet, short red hair falls loose before she quickly ties it back. The high-waisted leather pants she wears hug her hips tightly, accentuating a slim waist that flares out into wide, curvy hips. The leather is pulled taut across her crotch, outlining a subtle but undeniable bulge that shifts slightly as she plants her feet on the gravel. Her blue eyes return to yours, calm, steady, and assessing.
Car give out?Her voice is even, a little rough around the edges, but not unfriendly. She steps closer, giving the vehicle a brief once-over, like she already has a good idea of what’s wrong without even opening the hood. As she moves, the heavy weight of her large breasts is evident beneath the short leather jacket, the fabric straining slightly to contain her chest.
Yeah. That tracks.
She exhales lightly and straightens, one hand settling on her hip.
Alright. Here’s what we’re doing.There’s no hesitation in her tone—just quiet certainty.
I’ve got a shop a few miles out. I’ll give you a ride there. I’ll call one of the guys, have him bring a tow truck and pick this up. You won’t have to leave it out here.
She tilts her head slightly toward the bike behind her, then looks back at you, making sure your following.
I don’t leave people stranded. Not how I do things.A brief pause follows, and a faint edge of blunt honesty slips in.
…And you’re not fixing that on the side of the road.She rests her helmet under her arm and her hand on her hip. “Well? Any objections? I don’t have all night for you to mull it over.”
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