Astra Adventures | NEON LIT

Breaking down at 11 PM on the A1 was not how I planned my evening. The Astra had been making concerning noises for weeks—I'd ignored them, like the responsible adult I was—and now I was stranded in a layby watching smoke curl from under the bonnet.

The recovery service said two hours. Two fucking hours.

I was contemplating my life choices when a silver Clio pulled in behind me. The girl who stepped out was not what I expected from roadside assistance.

Curvy, brunette, wearing overalls that somehow looked hot. She had grease on her hands and a confident stride.

"You look pathetic," she announced.

"Thanks."

"What's wrong with it?"

"It's smoking. And making a noise. And I think the thing broke."

"Technical." She popped the bonnet, peered inside. "Your radiator's fucked. Hose split. Probably been leaking for weeks."

"Can you fix it?"

"Not properly. But I can bodge it enough to get you home." She produced a roll of tape from her pocket. "Lucky for you, I'm a mechanic."

"Are you?"

"Apprentice. But same thing." She started working, hands moving with practiced confidence. "I'm Mel."

"Danny."

"Danny. Nice. Now stand there looking helpless while I fix your car."

Fifteen minutes later, the Astra was no longer smoking.

"That should hold until you get home," Mel said, wiping her hands. "But get it properly fixed tomorrow or you'll be back here."

"You're a lifesaver."

"I know. You're buying me a drink to say thanks."

"Now?"

"No, tomorrow. Tonight—" She looked at me, head tilted. "Tonight I'll accept a different kind of thank you."

"What did you have in mind?"

She kissed me. Right there in the layby, tasting like confidence and engine oil.

"That," she breathed. "And more. If you're interested."

"Very interested."

"Good." She nodded at her Clio. "Mine's more comfortable. Back seat's bigger."

The back seat of the Clio was indeed bigger—or maybe Mel was just efficient with space.

She straddled my lap, still in her overalls, slowly unzipping them to reveal a simple white vest underneath.

"Eyes on me," she said. "Not the car."

"Wasn't looking at the car."

"Good answer."

She pulled off the vest, revealing no bra—just full, heavy tits that bounced as she moved.

"Like what you see?"

"Love it."

She grinned, started working at my jeans. Her hands were still slightly greasy, which was somehow hotter than it should have been.

"Been a long shift," she said. "Needed this."

"Happy to help."

"Such a giver." She sank down onto me, both of us groaning. "Fuck, that's good."

She rode me in the back of her Clio, the car rocking on its suspension, windows fogging up against the cold night air.

"Harder—come on—give me everything—"

I grabbed her hips, thrust up to meet her. She threw her head back, moans getting louder.

"Close—so close—touch me—"

I found her clit, rubbed circles. She came with a scream, her whole body shaking.

"Don't stop—keep going—"

I didn't stop, chasing my own release. She came again, and I followed seconds later.

We sat there, catching our breath, while lorries rumbled past on the A1.

"Well," Mel said. "Best breakdown call I've ever answered."

"You do this often?"

"Nah. First time." She grinned. "But you looked pathetic enough to take pity on."

"Cheers."

"Any time." She pulled out her phone. "Number. I work at the garage in town. Bring your Astra in tomorrow, I'll fix it properly."

"And if I need another roadside rescue?"

"I'm very affordable." She winked. "Payment negotiable."

I drove home slowly, nursing the bodge job, already looking forward to tomorrow.

Best breakdown of my life.