Sport car

My bright red two-seater isn’t just four wheels—it’s proof the universe owes me shiny things. It gleams under the streetlights like it knows how good my thighs will look sliding over that leather seat. Long, smooth legs earned that badge, and they flex as I drop the clutch, wind teasing bare skin. The exhaust barks, the road stretches, and for a second the whole night feels hand-tailored for me and this little beast humming between my knees. Sometimes the car winks back. Maybe it’s the reflection, maybe the car’s just as cocky as I am. Either way, I grin, downshift, and let every curve we take remind the both of us who’s driving.