It’s the end of the day. Louise — the new girl at work — just offered you a lift home. Of course you said yes. She’s effortlessly elegant, and the way she walks in that fitted polka dot dress and kitten heel mules has had you distracted for days.

You follow her out to the car, your eyes drifting automatically — dress swaying, heels clicking, a flash of red polish beneath those open-toe shoes.

You slide into the passenger seat of her ageing VW Polo. The interior smells like warm plastic and faded perfume... and then you notice it:

The ch*ke’s already pulled out.

Your heart skips. This could be interesting.

Louise gets in beside you, smiling sweetly as she turns the key.

Nothing. Just the sound of the engine turning... and turning.

“Oh... sometimes my car can be a bit temperamental,” she says, a l*ttle flustered.

She cranks again. Still no start.

“Come on, please start... this is really embarrassing,” she laughs, cheeks beginning to flush as the car coughs, sputters... then stalls at the last second.

“I do apologise... I hope you’re not in a rush?” she adds nervously.

(You’re definitely not.)

The attempts continue. Her right foot moves over the pedal again and again, slapping rhythmically against the sole of her shoe as she pumps with growing urgency.

“This is so frustrating,” she groans, throwing you a slightly desperate glance.

You watch quietly, enjoying every second — her leg tensing with each attempt, the rise and fall of her breathing as she keeps apologising and trying.

She takes a breath, resets, and turns the key again. But now the engine is slower... weaker...

“Please don’t dye on me...” she whispers, voice soft now.

A few more cranks. Nothing.

Her foot still pumps on instinct — she doesn’t want to give up.

But the Polo’s had enough. The battery is almost gone. The starter fades to silence.

One final try. Just a whine.

“Oh no... don’t dye on me...”

That’s it. The engine’s flooded. The battery is flat. Louise is flustered, apologising under her breath.

And you? You’re sitting right beside her — soaking up every second of her helpless l*ttle struggle.

Looks like the only thing going anywhere... is your imagination.

Runtime: 11 minutes 02 seconds Filmed entirely from the passenger’s point of view

Revving Shoe Fetish High Heels You Can Watch… But You Can’t Help — Her Engine’s Not the Only Thing Struggling! with C4s.com