I am reminded of something that happened to me many years ago when I was a driving instructor.
I got a phone call from a lady called Nicky, to book some lessons for her daughter Jane, who wasn’t happy with her current instructor and wanted a change. I think Nicky booked four hours for her the first week. So a few days later, I turned up for her first lesson. The door opened and there stood the most exquisite raven-haired creature imaginable. I said, “Jane?”
The goddess replied, “Yes, she’s ready. JANE!”
What? This was the mother! What was the daughter going to be like then? I soon found out!
The sound of footsteps came from the direction of the stairs. Then a pair of feet appeared. Then ankles, then calves, then knees, then thighs … clothes seemed to be absent from this equation however. Was this going to be the first ever nudist driving lesson? Eventually a very small piece of cloth came into view. We’ve all heard of miniskirts and microskirts – this one could only be described as a nanoskirt! Her top was equally skimpy. And apart from being a honey blonde she was indeed a younger version of the mother. So I got this beauty into the car, and before letting her move off took some details such as how many hours tuition she’d had and what sort of things she’d been doing. I was surprised to find that she’d hardly done any manoeuvres.
“So what were you doing instead then?”
“Just driving up and down the ring road mainly.”
Not surprising, I thought. So that he could just sit there and look at you I expect. She was after all extremely easy on the eye, but if you’re charging for driving lessons that’s really what you should be doing.
I worked her quite hard during those first two hours and she proved to be a really good pupil. When I dropped her off at the end and confirmed the next booking, I told her we’d be doing some manoeuvres.
When I returned a few days later, I was relieved to find that the almost non-existent skirt had been replaced by a pair of jeans, although they were quite tight. But the skimpy top … oh my giddy aunt. Not only was it still there, it appeared to have shrunk. Oh well, say nothing, none of my business after all.
Now the introduction to manoeuvres is something called ‘the straight-line reverse.’ You get the pupil to stop the car a little farther from the kerb than the normal parked position, say half a metre. Then from there they reverse as far as possible keeping the car the same distance from the kerb the whole time. Of course it’s a little more complicated than that, and needs quite a lot of attention. And to ensure a good view behind, the pupil has to look straight out the back window, which means twisting round to the left.
We’d only gone back a few yards when I noticed something. Because Jane was quite short (five foot nothing I believe) she had to twist a lot. And as she did so, she started to … how shall I put it? Leak out of her low-cut top. Every second more and more of her left areola was exposing itself, like a glorious little pink sunrise. How can you tell someone that when you’ve known them for less than a week?
After three or four car’s lengths I asked her to stop, thinking that perhaps if she went forwards again, straightening up might let things drop back into place, as it were. So I said, “Return to the start position,” to see whether the situation would change. It did. It got worse. The left areola continued to emerge and the right one was now following. Well if she’s going to continue popping out anyway, I thought, I might just as well ask her to go back again. So we did the exercise a couple more times until I said that was enough, and asked her to move off again, and turn left at the end of the road. As we drove around, two gorgeous little nipples were now starting to join the show and I couldn’t help thinking, she’s only eighteen, quite possibly I’m the first bloke on earth ever to see those. But I noticed that if I adjusted my ‘eye mirror’ just right, I could get a great view of the area of interest without taking my eyes off the road. Well, I’m only human.
Eventually Jane noticed what was happening (hopefully without noticing that I had noticed) and tucked it all back in, so I was spared any difficult decisions. Later that day, I mentioned this to another pupil, Millie, who conceded it was a problem, and could offer no advice. She did say though, “If it happened to me, all you’d have to say is something like ‘Oh for gawd’s sake girl stick ’em back in!’” Millie however was nearly forty, had been married at sixteen and had three kids so was a bit more worldly-wise. She was by the way the only pupil with whom I ever discussed my little dilemma with Jane. She was a really nice lady actually; even if she did once claim an examiner spent the entire test looking at her tits. At least hers would never fall out. They’d have to be pushed.
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