Fatal Attraction

My foot twitches closer to the pedal.
Just a few more seconds, Bonnie, I tell myself. At least wait until you're past the construction. Really.
I finally get far enough from the busy city to feel safe letting my foot drop firmly on the gas pedal. The engine snarls and throws the car forward with enough force to appease my hunger.
I revel in the sound and feeling of the sudden speed. It's almost a turn-on. Wait...who am I kidding? It's really a turn-on.
The needle on the speedometer creeps higher, the car gaining velocity. Eighty five. Ninety. Ninety five.
The irritatingly wise voice in my head warns me I'm being stupid, but I soon silence it with my need. The need for speed, oh yeah.
Ninety five...ninety eight...a hundred...
I drag my eyes from the dashboard and stare in awe at my surroundings. I'm flying. Fences, neon construction cones, and billboards are a blur as I whiz past. My foot presses harder on the pedal, shoving it into the floor.
The engine growls louder and shifts into a lower gear, wanting for the speed as much as I am.
I ache for a manual transmission, but for the moment am satisfied with my puny automatic. I'm grateful for the new turbo propelling me faster. (Thanks, Dad.)
Leaning back in my seat, I realize I'm holding my breath. I gasp and draw new air into my lungs, letting the sensation sink in. I'm flying.
Euphoria. Ecstasy. Excitement. Thrill. Love. Relief. Bliss.
I glance back at the speedometer. The needle is swiveling somewhere between one-twenty-five and one-thirty. I sigh and let up off the gas pedal. The car lazily slows to a safer speed.
Adrenaline courses through my veins still, making me shake. I take another deep breath and calm myself with the memory, letting it linger in my head, the hunger being satisfied...temporarily.