She

Her nails dig in wherever they can.
Her eyes are as wide as they go and her back and head are pressed into the fine leather seat of the Bugatti.
A multitude of city lights race over the curved contours of the automobile.
She feels as though she can trust the man next to her. He wears his beard well. They're chic these days of course but his actually accentuates his chin rather than hides it. All men look better in a good tux but a chosen few can make it fly. His hands and feet are a blur through the turns. It gets warm between her legs but she resists the urge to squirm. Concentrating she is determined to clear the champagne from her forehead and stomach but as her eyes focus all she can see are his face and hands. She thinks of how confident he seems. She frees a hand and pulls herself forward to see better what is going on. It's then her eyes get even wider and she wets the leather seat beneath her.

They are weaving around other cars like they are standing still. She thinks there is no fucking way he is going to make this upcoming turn at this speed. She grips tighter and realizes she's actually screaming but she can't hear herself. She looks over at him and he is stone. He downshifts and the powerful engine screams in compliance. Through her seat she can feel the tires grip and join the fight. Then he shifts again and her body is once again gripped by the seat causing her breasts to bounce. The body of the car trembles slightly as it lightly scrapes a cement sidewall. Her chest heaves and a lone bead of sweat tries to run down between her breasts. Her nipples are below zero rock hard. Her lower spine tingles and a spark rockets up her spine to the base of her skull causing the hairs to stand straight up. “If we survive this I'm going to fuck him so FUCKING hard.” She thinks.

It's then over the noise she can hear the wine of more than one rice rocket.

She tries to look left over her shoulder but the seat-belt he demanded she wear commands her to not move. Somehow someone has caught up to them at this insane speed and they draw what looks like weapons. She looks again at him and it's then to her amazement she realizes she is still screaming.

Then a hard jolt and sparkles of glass are everywhere. She can feel the deceleration of the car before she can see it. The night's lights appear to orbit around the car's field of view. She feels a momentary weightlessness but her mind knows very well that a hit is coming and she quietly says a prayer. Her face is peppered by little shards of glass. She takes a cold breath and makes a wish before she is slammed back to reality. The car hits twice before sliding to a stop.

It is very quiet and dark. Her arms hang strait down and she groans. She hears a cry and wonders if it's from herself. Then there is a crunch of glass underfoot. She looks but her dashing driver is not in his seat. She fumbles for her seatbelt and her knees quickly slam to the ground.