Wheel

Wheel

Damian pulled his 1970 GTO muscle car into the parking lot at Ruff’s Garage.  Usually he had his chauffeur take care of these menial tasks, but he was craving some normalcy.  He hit it big in the app market when it was just coming out a few years ago, and he now was living so big that he sometimes felt like a balloon, hoisted above the crowds for people to gawk at, not to interact with or treat like a normal human being.  Business people were constantly approaching him to finance deals, charities always had a cause, and females always winked whether they liked him or not.

It had its perks, don’t get him wrong.  He loved the new vehicles, the cars and especially the maid that kept his new house looking spic and span, but sometimes he just wanted to get his hands dirty.  He had restored this GTO from scratch as a teenager.  He had taken the engine apart bolt by bolt and reassembled it better than before, improving it with performance parts.  He had taken each fender and bolt off, scraped it down to bare metal and repainted it himself.  He had removed the rotten interior from the rusty body and replaced it with fresh, soft material back when he still had to wait for his next paycheck to afford the parts.

Not now, not now he could guy fifteen classic cars and pay fifteen different garages to restore it for him.  He would add in this computer apps he created into the electronic system to enhance performance on his cars, but other than that he didn’t spend as much time as he wanted in the shop actually getting dirty.

He made the time today to bring it to the shop, to get new, wider tires installed.  Something he could have done himself at home, but he didn’t have the time these days.  He could have asked his chauffer to do the task, but he was craving normalcy.  He just wanted to be another guy for a day, not the guy everyone looked to for answers.  He wanted to act his age instead of an older businessman.

He parked his baby and shut off the engine.  He got out with that old, familiar pride in his chest, knowing he had risen this machine from the rust bucket at the parts yard to this beauty.  He walked up to the front office and delivered the keys to the man behind the desk.

As he took his seat in the waiting room, he heard the man open the door to the shop and holler, “Rosie!  Your turn!”

It only took a minute before she made it to the door to retrieve the key.  She was a spit fire.  Her black hair was pulled back behind a red bandanna.  Despite the oil stained overalls, she had a sex appeal that was undeniable.  It did little to hide her generous curves, and the blush on her cheeks and red on her lips screamed femininity.  He caught himself staring up and over the magazine he was holding, and he noticed the wide smile she gave the man when he announced it was an older muscle car.  She was as excited to drive it as he was.

***

Rosie couldn’t believe her luck.  Her brother had let her take the muscle car.  She was certain he would hoard all the horse power himself, but he knew her fascination with the classic cars and let her at it.  She nearly hugged him when gave her the keys.  She spun on her heels as quickly as her steel toes would allow and made her way out before her brother had time to change his mind.

She fired it up, and it just screamed muscle.  It wanted to be driven hard and worked thoroughly.  She only wished she had time.  As she pulled it onto the car rack in the garage stall, she imagined taking it through the gears out on the open highway, the car responding to her every touch, moving without complaint and enjoying the ride.  Instead, she parked it up on the rack and got out to find the impact wrench.  She would have the lug nuts off in a heart beat, but she would be careful not to scratch the chrome on the wheel.

As she finished the first wheel, she noticed someone standing in the open doorway of the garage.  It took her eyes a second to adjust to the sunlight, but when she did.  Woo.  There were no words for this man.  He had this calm assurance about him that made her want to hand over control and see where he’d take her.  His hands were lazily in his front pockets, but nothing about him seemed lazy.  Oh no.  His body screamed perfection, the hard work clear in his every sinew, dip and cord of his muscle.

She took a deep breath and asked what he needed, clearly not an employee of her brother’s garage.  When he indicated that he owned the car, her jaw nearly hit the floor.  She was so thankful she hadn’t taken it for a quick fantasy spin.  She would have been so busted.  But maybe she wanted him to catch her, to hold her in his burning stare.  She felt her cheeks flush at the thought and decided it may have been worth it after all.

She shifted  the impact wrench to her left hand and reached her free hand out to shake his, complimenting his car.  He took it without hesitation, and she wanted him to hold it there much longer, his large hands so warmly wrapped in hers, shrinking her, making her well aware of her short stature compared to his large, masculine frame, but loving that sensation as well.

Her unusual reaction to the client shocked her.  They were usually a bunch of douche bags that loved cat calls and making fun of her at every chance, the snide remarks only cementing her decision to stay and pave the way for future generations of women.

She asked him about the car, being the classic muscle car freak that she was, and he was happy to oblige her.  He answered honestly, and she was impressed at how much he had done on his own.  She knew the amount of time it would take to do each task, and she admired his determination to make the old rust bucket road worthy again.  Not only road worthy, but race track worthy if he was ever so inclined.

Their conversation somehow turned back to herself.  That was a little more tricky to talk about.  He found a way to weave in compliments so intricately that by the time she realized them to dismiss them, he had already changed the subject.  He kept her on her toes, and she was taken.  If he asked her to run away with him right there that moment, she would do it in a heartbeat.

But then her brother announced their next appointment was there, and now she was behind.  Damn it, she never fell behind.  She worked twice as hard as the others to maintain her position in the shop, and mistakes like this would make it too easy to slip back into the stereotype.  Damian must have seen the disappointment in her eyes, as he offered to come back another time.

Now she was thoroughly embarrassed.  She didn’t want to lose this handsome new client on top of it all.

***

Damian was looking for an excuse to see her again, but he saw that his offhanded comment had offended her.  That was not what he had meant, and he quickly tried to restore the situation back to the easy banter.  Just  him being a normal guy, and her being an extraordinary woman.

“I am sorry.  I should clarify,” he began, watching the color reach her beautiful face.  “I would like to see you later, just you, and maybe in a little black dress, although you look stunning just the way you are.”

Her eyes widened exponentially before she responded.  “But, your car…”

“Maybe you could deliver it, to dinner tonight?  I can get a ride home from here, no worries.”

He watched her eyes widen again, this time in pure joy, and he took that as a yes.  He pulled out his cell phone and called his chauffeur after all.

***

Hoolay shit.  Damian just asked her to dinner.  The hottest man she had ever laid eyes on, who drives the fastest car in town, that he restored with his own two incredible hands just asked her to dinner.  She absolutely could not decline, and she spent the entire afternoon daydreaming, despite the back to back appointments.

As she was changing oil, she imagined that Damian’s hands had changed more than oil, and she imagined his hands on her waist, on the small of her back, or caressing her thighs.  As she hefted the tires onto his car later, she knew that he would have no difficulty lifting them.  He wouldn’t have to pretend strength like she did to lift the monsters up onto the rack and into position. She saw the brute strength through his old t-shirt, and she imagined peeling it off his body, her hands taking their time across his chest, over her stomach, and down to that little patch of hair she knew would start just above his jeans.

As she peeled out of her dirty overalls at the end of her shift, she remembered the grease stain on the side of his jeans.  She hadn’t realized at the time, but he had shaken her filthy hand earlier today without complaint and wiped it on his jeans as he grabbed the handle of his buddy’s door, leaving her with the GTO.  He wiped it on the side of his taught hips, the nonchalant motion drawing her eyes to his round rear and hips.  She imagined holding onto those hips during the throws of passion, sinking her fingernails into the hard steel of his ass.

She had been imagining too much.  In just a matter of hours she could make her daydreams turn into reality.  She grabbed the keys for the car and cruised home, eager to take it through the gears on the freeway, the vibration in the old car relaxing her into the smooth leather of the seat.

***

Damian hadn’t been this excited about a dinner date in a long time.  Possibly ever.  He had met an intelligent, sexy as hell woman who didn’t give a damn that he was just some normal guy.  He had avoided conversation that would lead to revealing who he was, and he had a sense that she wouldn’t care if he was the richest man on the planet or the poorest.  She just took him at face value, and he appreciated the easy approval.

He had changed from t-shirt and jeans into something a little classier, hoping she would take him up on his request of the little black dress.  He had pictured her in a little black dress all day.

To be honest, he had instead imagined her naked beneath those dirty overalls.  He imagined peeling it back, inch by inch, revealing the creamy delicacy of her satiny skin.  He imagined stripping her in the garage she worked at, and then he imagined stripping her in his own garage, and then he imagined stripping her in his bedroom.  To be quite honest he hadn’t pictured much of the little black dress until he sat here, waiting for her to arrive.

He had made the reservations, and when he heard the roar of his car, his face broke into a smile.  She had decided to come after all.  He stood, intending to meet her at the door, but his feet kept going until he went through the door and was rounding the corner of the building.  When he saw her, he stopped dead in his tracks.

She was stunning.  Her black hair was pinned up in such a way that it highlighted the shape of her face and length of her lean neck.  He wanted to unpin it and watch it fall, strand by strand over her pale shoulders, clearly visible in the little black dress she was wearing.  He wanted to pull her close, wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her square on her luscious lips, now painted a soft pink.

He felt himself swallow hard.  She gave him a little spin, her black heels highlighting the rise of her ass and length of her legs.  “You look incredible,” he said, trying to clear his mind, trying to think of anything other than taking her back to his car, pressing the accelerator to the floor and parking in his own private garage.  He tried to think of anything except pushing that skirt up and sitting her on his lap.  He tried to imagine anything other than having her perky breasts bare before him as he rode her, watching them bounce in the seat of his car.

He cleared his throat, and she did him the favor of taking his arm.  “Shall we?” she asked.

***

Rosie was glad that he had liked her little black dress.  She only had one, but she wanted it to do the trick and prime his pump much as his car had primed hers on the way over.  Well, to be honest, she had been self-lubricating all day.  Every time she thought of him she had to fight the urge to touch herself.  Getting showered was torture.  She felt her hands spreading the bubbles over her breasts much more than necessary, her fingers gliding over her sensitive nipples.  She felt her hand go south, but she denied herself.  She didn’t want to pretend his hands were on her, she wanted to make it happen for real, tonight.

By the time she had parked his car with the new wheels successfully installed, she was ready to explode.  She saw his reaction and knew the black dress had done its job.  She was glad he was taking her in, giving her time to translate his dark, hot eyes and the drop of his jaw.  She wanted to reach out and touch his jaw, his five o’clock shadow begging to be touched.  She wanted to pull his lips to hers and claim him there on the spot, there in the bushes, there on his car, she didn’t care.  She just wanted his hands on hers and vice versa.

She knew they needed to get dinner in first, so she decided to take charge.  She took his arm and started for the door to the restaurant.  Only, when she had his arm, she was close enough to smell his cologne.  She had his bicep in her hand, and it was oh so sexy.  She was right about her earlier assumption that he was made of steel.  She swallowed hard as she imagined the rest of him just as hard, just as strong, just as capable of delivering a satisfying show.

“Shall we?” she asked, hoping he read her mind and agreed to everything she had been dreaming about.  She nearly tripped over her own two feet when he responded “We shall” with such a thickness to his voice that she thought she might explode right in her chair at the table if he spoke to her in that raw, sexy voice of his all evening.  She would never make it back to his car let alone somewhere more private.

He looked down at her with those dark, aroused eyes, and then pointedly looked at his car.  “You just want to get out of here?” he asked.  Yes, everything in her screamed yes.  Every part of her begged to be touched right now, but she didn’t want to be his one night stand.  She wanted his hands on hers every night.  She wanted to hear his voice every morning.  She wanted to know his dreams and hopes and ambitions so that when she climbed atop him in that bed she knew she would be taking more than his body.  She wanted his heart, too.

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but she wanted to try a future with him more than she wanted a physical release, and that was saying something.  “I think we’re going to need to eat, to intake some calories to last us, you know, all night.”

He growled, a low sexy pained growl that let her know she was in charge, he would let her lead the way, and she loved the control.  “Rosie, you’re one hell of a woman, I hope you know that.”

She felt a giggle escape her throat, and she bit her lip in an effort to stifle it.  He stopped her, and gently pushed her back into the brick wall of the building.  “Were you just laughing at me?” he asked, his voice too playful to intimidate her.  He brought his thumb up and released her lip from her bite, and slowly drew his thumb out and down her jaw, down her neck until it stopped in the little indentation by her shoulder.  “Right there.  Right there will be the first place I kiss you.” He was so close she could feel the heat of his breath on her neck.  She wanted him to kiss her right now.  “Whatcha waiting for?” she teased, trying to break the suspense.

He pulled back, and the cool air felt so disappointing, replacing the space his lips could have been.  He took her hand and pulled her off the building just before a couple came around the corner, sparing her from embarrassing herself right there under the street light.  She righted herself and took his arm again, this time determined to make it to the table.

She couldn’t believe the difference one day could make.  This morning she was plain old Rosie, covered in grease.  Tonight she was still plain old Rosie, but instead of covered in grease, she would be covered in his scent, in his cologne and with his body, something that would take much longer to wash off.  And she hoped his scent would linger.

 

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