Stacy sat in the driver's seat of the large SUV on her breaks. Mr. Simmons, the man that paid her to clean up around the house, had said it was OK, even though he seemed to think it was a strange request. Stacy was used to people staring at her in that funny way. 'Things just sound stranger when I say them', she often thought.
Sitting in the large, powerful vehicle with all the controls within reach made her feel special -- even though she did not know how to use most of them. Nor were they likely to work without keys or special instructions. Nor did she have permission to fidget with anything, just to sit.
Stacy had given herself the nickname Thimble-Sized Stacy. (...add here...) When Stacy was in the car, she did not feel thimble-sized.