short story - the gentleman's car
The gentleman's car arrives virtually at every doorstep, every corner, and every bar. It sometimes arrives quietly with an air of elegance, and other times with an alluring sort of arrogance. It arrives in tuxedos, leather jackets, and soft-looking hoodies. Sometimes with a luxurious cologne, and other times the aftermath of cigarettes and booze.
Regardless of the packaging, however, it always arrives with an entitled gaze and the headlights switched off. The gentleman's car carries only the finest goods, so nobody can afford to see what's inside unless they are willing to offer a fair trade.
The gentleman's car always parks in dimlit alleys, abandoned parking lots, and quiet neighborhoods. Placing it too obviously in a fitting place would make a lady too comfortable. After all, true ladies adore the gentlemen who keep them on their toes.
The gentleman's car can sometimes be an irresistible offer, but never a refutable one. It's a hungry car after long days of performing gentlemanly duties, and it needs gasoline to run normally again.
The gentleman's car gets more impatient with each night without a lady inside, so much so that it will accept younger ladies- sometimes little girls- with grace, if it gets hungry enough.
The gentleman's car steers around the night, searching for the lady who will accept the gentlemanly treatment with no complaints. Why should a lady complain? She deserves to be treated well, in exchange for her body of course.
The gentleman's car loves to drive past fence gates and guardrails; with the headlights off. Open roads and available lots are too easy for the gentleman.
The gentleman's car, after a long night of feasting, comes back to its resting place at dawn in a quiet home with a tranquil(ized) family, unsuspecting of the ever-growing needs of its hungry gentlemen.