Hounslow Heat
"Driving instructor Grace teaches confidence on the road. When nervous student Kwame needs extra lessons, she shows him that confidence applies to other areas too."
Kwame had failed his driving test four times. At this point, it was less about the license and more about the humiliation.
"Relax your hands," Grace instructed from the passenger seat. "You're strangling the wheel."
Easy for her to say. Grace was calm personified—forty-two, Ghanaian-British, with a patient voice and a body that made concentration difficult. Thick in her instructor polo, curves that the seatbelt couldn't hide.
"Sorry. I'm just nervous."
"I know. That's what we're going to fix."
She directed him to a quiet road, then had him pull over.
"What's the real problem, Kwame?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know how to drive. I've seen you. But the moment you feel pressure, you freeze." She turned in her seat. "What's making you freeze?"
He didn't want to answer. But her eyes were kind, and he was tired of pretending.
"I freeze because I care too much about what people think. What you think."
"Me specifically?"
His silence was answer enough.
"Ah." She didn't seem surprised. "How long?"
"Since the first lesson. You were patient when everyone else made me feel stupid."
"Kwame, I'm your instructor—"
"I know. I'm not asking for anything. I just... it makes it hard to concentrate."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then she unbuckled her seatbelt.
"Get in the back."
"What?"
"Back seat. Now."
Confused, he obeyed. She followed, the car suddenly much smaller with both of them in the back.
"I'm going to teach you something about confidence," she said. "Something that doesn't involve driving."
She kissed him before he could ask questions. Her mouth was warm and sure, and her hands found his chest, his shoulders, pulling him closer.
"Grace—"
"Shh. This is about getting rid of tension." She straddled him in the cramped back seat. "Nervous energy that's blocking you. We need to release it."
"Here? In the car?"
"Where better to learn confidence?" She started unbuttoning her polo. "Now pay attention. This is important."
The windows fogged as they moved together in the confined space. Grace was experienced, knowing exactly how to angle her thick body in the cramped conditions.
"There," she gasped as he found the right spot. "Just like that. Now show me you can maintain control."
He did. Better than he'd ever done anything before. She rode him in the back of the training car, her cries muffled against his shoulder.
"Good. Very good. Now a bit more—yes!"
She came with a shudder, and he followed, gripping her hips.
Afterward, still tangled in the back seat, she straightened her clothes and smiled.
"Now. Drive me back to the office."
"What?"
"You heard me. Get behind the wheel and drive."
He climbed into the front seat, adjusted the mirrors, and pulled into traffic. No shaking. No freezing. Just calm, confident driving.
"How do you feel?" Grace asked.
"Different. Better."
"That's because you stopped caring what I think. You already impressed me. Nothing left to prove."
He passed his test the following week. Perfect score.
Grace officially became his girlfriend after he got his license. "Can't date a student," she'd insisted. "But you're not a student anymore."
They drove everywhere together. He got his car; she navigated. The back seat got plenty of use too.
"You're my best success story," she'd say.
"Technically, your method isn't in any instruction manual."
"Some things you can't learn from a book." She'd kiss him. "Now drive. Let's find somewhere quiet."
Hounslow's roads had witnessed many lessons. None quite as educational as Grace's special curriculum.