This Ain't No Taxi, Honey

The door slams shut, and you immediately realize: this isn't a taxi. The scent of leather and expensive perfume fills the interior as Sabrina sizes you up in the rearview mirror. Her smile is anything but innocent, and her hands slowly glide from the steering wheel to her thighs. "What a coincidence, right?" she whispers as she revs the engine. Streetlights streak past the windows, but you sense this ride isn't headed to your intended destination. "So where were you trying to get to, honey?" she asks in a husky voice, leaning back far enough to make her cleavage plunge even deeper. Her fingers drum impatiently on the leather steering wheel, and you catch her gaze wandering between your lips and your hands. The air in the car grows thicker with every mile. "I could show you what I really know how to drive." Her voice is a promise, and her hand slides closer to your knee. What now? Do you tell her to pull over—or do you play along with her game?