tagNon-EroticAuto Erotica Ch. 03

Auto Erotica Ch. 03

bymadam_noe©

Sheridan Avenue runs the North Shore and makes a few twists and turns onto Lake Shore Drive. I always raced there, it was like a highway in the middle of the city. I didn't know any of the LCs and I had the Camaro and the Viper with me. To my chagrin the Viking had muscled his way in and that made four cars in three lanes. Fucking tough.

I'd called at 30Gs and the Viking put up cash, the Yenko Camaro and the Viper put up the P's. Cal and Suki held them and parked next to them was Patrick. Cal gave me an odd look when the other man pulled up, but I just shrugged.

Patrick for his part was staring at Gunnar like he'd like to start a pissing contest with me in the middle. That appealed to me about as much as the imagery.

Suki and her crew blocked LSD behind us, and she alighted with a wink. I revved the engine and stroked the dashboard, enjoying the Zen-like calm that flowed over me in those final moments.

Suki raised her pink scarf, very dramatic, and dropped it. I slammed the gas and clutch and Gunnar and I shot forward. We held even as we shifted first into second and I went for blood. I swiped at him and he dodged, letting the Viper slip into second.

In the mirror I saw the other three cars behind me, and far beyond them Cal and Patrick following us. I punched into third and saw Gunnar had swiped the Viper in the side and nudged his way back, gaining on me.

The Camaro vied now and the Viper dropped back to let it in. I ignored them and slipped into fifth, neck and neck with the 350. The Camaro went to nitrous, a surprise, and shot past us.

"Fuck this," I said and popped into sixth. I claimed the lead by a nose, the Camaro and the 350 finished right behind me, the Viper behind them.

I pulled off and led them back to another circuit already gathering in the loop. It wouldn't last long, but it would work. Just when I felt good the Camaro turned and took off. Cal broke off and sped after it and I left it to him. I knew he wouldn't catch him with speed, it had to be skill, but it wasn't likely.

Patrick wisely blocked the Viper in and I alighted right away.

The LC in it was Maria, hard boiled, only twenty two, packing. She got out ready to fight.

"Cal's got your P, so walk away nicely."

She rattled off Spanish and I could tell I was the only one who understood. I stepped closer and smiled as Gunnar and Patrick watched, unsure what to do. I don't think either would hit a woman, but I would.

"Call my mother a slut one more time and you'll be eating breakfast through a straw. You got me?"

She went for her gun and I sighed. I faked with my right and she fell for it, blocking while my left slammed into her skull. I busted a knuckle on it but she didn't go down. Guess she'd been hit in the head one too many times.

Someone in Suki's crowd yelled "Fight!" and rather than gathering around us the kids ran to their cars and took off. No one wanted to be there when the cops came.

Maria kicked at me and I gabbed her foot and twisted. She'd expected it and the other foot came up. I moved, but not fast enough, and she clipped my shoulder. Gunnar started towards us and I shook my head. "Back off!"

She came up swinging and I blocked, feinted, and she went for my gut. I took the hit so she was left open, and cracked her so hard in the eye socket that bone crunched and her head snapped back.

She went down like a sack of potatoes and the night was quiet. There were only us four and our engines, the men staring at me with a small touch of revulsion.

She cursed me in Spanish and told me the men would never want me. I smiled, turned my head and spit blood. "Fine by me, if neither one wants to see me naked I won't lose any sleep." I hauled back and kicked her in the stomach.

"That's for insulting my mother." Kick. "That's for trying to pull a gun on me." Kick. "That's for your friend trying to run." Kick. "And that's so you know you never set foot in my fucking town again. Comprende?"

"Si," she coughed out, but there was no blood so I knew she was okay.

I ignored the men and walked back to my car and got my cell. I pressed the button that made it slide open and hit speed dial. "Carlos, I'm in the circuit lot in the north loop. I need a pickup and you'll have to drive her to Cook County. Five? All right."

I hung up, bent down, and took her gun. "You men can leave now."

Gunnar looked recovered first. "This is what you do?"

"I don't have to justify myself to you. Everything we do in this world is against the law."

"But it's not violent!"

"What are you? Some kind of cop?" I clicked off the safety on her gun. Gunnar stepped back and swallowed.

"You have my cash, I'm leaving."

"Please do. No one invited you and I told you you couldn't win."

He looked down at the coughing Latina. "How could you do that?"

Patrick's expression said he was thinking the same thing.

"Neither one of you speaks Spanish?" Two shakes. I pointed the gun at her head and kept my eyes on them. "Tell the nice men, in English, what you said to me."

She stayed curled up but spoke. "I said her mother is a filthy whore who would fuck any man. I said her hair marks her as daughter of the devil. I said she is a liar and a cheat and my sisters would come and gut her pretty face. I said I would carve her up so that no man would ever look at her again, but my brothers would still rape her until she begged for death. I told her this was the beginning, that my brothers and sisters are coming and we will cover this city, she can never hide from me."

I looked at the men and saw rage there. Good. "She means it. She's LC, they run coke. In less than a month they could blanket the city, cull out the competition, and the neat thing about mutilation and rape? It's their calling card. The women cut and the men rape. It's charming, really."

Gunnar's hand reflexively made a fist and uncurled repeatedly. Patrick was looking hard at me and I knew what he was thinking. "This is a new idea from the last five years. I believe they learned it from some Haitian gangs in Kansas City," I said.

Patrick relaxed a little but Gunnar seemed enraged. I knew what he was thinking. "Forget it, Gunnar. She'll need a buddy to drive her back to Detroit and spread the word."

"What about the Camaro?" Patrick asked.

"It's probably in Indiana by now, outrunning Cal. If not, who knows?" I left it unsaid that Cal would kill him for running.

Luckily Carlos came up then, dropped off by an unseen driver. He took one look at me and my gun on Maria and picked her up. "Which one?" he asked.

"The Viper." I found the trunk release and he dumped her in. "Get rid of this." I handed him the gun and he nodded, got in, and drove off.

"Gentlemen, it's been grand. I suggest that if we cross paths on the circuit, you politely just keep walking and pretend you don't know me."

I got in my on car and drove away. Only when I was around the corner did I let the tears fall. The bitch had hit me hard, too hard. My shoulder was going to have a huge bruise and my stomach would ache for days. I was taking the next night off.

My eyes burned until I found the public garage and I had to fish for my card. I slipped it in, nodded to the attendant, and then I saw it. A blue Sky in my rearview. "Shit," I swore under my breath and gunned it.

I slammed into the hidden parking spot and decided to greet him. The wall closed and I ran up a flight of stairs in the other lot, emerging from the stair well to see his headlights. What was with this guy?

He stopped and then started again, pulling into a spot and turning the engine off. I opened his door and sat in the convertible. "Why are you following me?"

"You all right? She hit you hard."

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Jesus. You really think that will stop them from moving in?"

"Hell no."

He looked at me in surprise. "Then why bother?"

"They won't race again. That'll make it that much harder to make contacts. Now it's up to the fucking cops to stop them."

"You don't like cops much, do you?"

"Do you? I know you spent time in the can."

He shrugged, man of many words.

"I deserve my privacy, Patrick. Leave me be."

"It's not fair."

That wasn't what I expected to hear. "What?"

"You know my name, my shop, you can find me any time you want. You drive a limited edition car and the plates lead me to a corporation that matches the lot. No one knows your real name, took me a year to learn your first name. I've been trying to figure out a way to even talk to you for another year and one night you just pull up and ask to race."

Okay, if he kept talking there was going to be a problem. Even as hurt as I was he was making me cream to think of that night. "Shut it, Crilly. Why don't you just go back to the circuit and find yourself an easy blonde? There's hundreds of them who would sell their soul just to be sitting here."

"Yeah, I know."

Jeeze, the guy never said what I expected. "You wouldn't be so interested if you would just realize how boring I am."

"Boring? I'd hardly say that."

"Look, Crilly, I grew up in a bad place. I joined a gang like a lot of stupid kids. I was good with cars, magic hands on a Ford. I did something stupid, I got pinched, and when I came out of the can I decided to go straight. Too poor for college I started fixing cars. I met Cal at Harry's, same place I knew Joe from, we went into business on our own. That's it."

He laughed. "That's still a thousand times more interesting that most of the stories out there. Too many damn suburbanites who watched some movie and want to watch people race. Hell, there's only a handful of women who race and nobody with a car like that."

I leaned back and groaned. "Compliment the car all you want but I'm not fucking you tonight. I'm gonna go home and try and shove my liver back down to where it's supposed to be."

He turned to face me and we were close, too close, and I was afraid he'd kiss me but he just smiled. "I'll let you run, again, but someday you're going to come clean. Aileen."

"In your dreams, Crilly."

"As usual. I liked it better when you called me Patrick."

I got out and didn't look back as I went into the stairwell. When the door closed I went downstairs and out into the other garage. No one was waiting so I went in my private elevator, and then stripped down into a warm bath. I called Cal and he said he'd gotten the Camaro, but the driver was dead.

I hung up, got out, dried off, and dressed in my sweats. I pinned my hair up and tucked it under a baseball cap. I'd popped some major Tylenol and felt slightly better, but I was looking forward to sleep.

I drove the Volvo out and saw the Sky on the street, Patrick watching the exit. I tried to figure out what my normal mannerisms were and do the opposite, and then I realized he was waiting around the corner from the exit he assumed I'd leave from. His car stayed behind as I drove off and I sighed with relief.

At home there were lights burning. Andy was waiting for me in the kitchen.

"Late night, little sis? Who was it this time?" He was clearly drunk, but even sober he assumed my late weekend nights were because I was a slut.

"Andy, shouldn't you be getting to bed?"

"Don't you fucking tell me what to do. You're not mom, so stop acting like her!"

Yeah, if I was my mom I'd probably fight him for the bottle. "I'm tired. Don't let the kids see the bottle or see you drunk. Good night."

He cursed at me as I climbed up to my floor. I collapsed into bed and felt miserably alone.

#

By Monday I felt better. I had bruises but I was no longer stiff and I went to work with grim determination. We had to strip the Camaro down, remove serial numbers, anything that would identify it. Our man at the DMV could rush a new VIN but it was going to cost half of Gunnar's thirty grand. The Viper could wait a little longer, that VIN only cost five grand.

Cal and I worked together on the Camaro and took it apart completely in an hour, but it would take two days to clean it. I put on my headphones to cover his wailing heavy metal and let TLC spill out and into me.

I went Zen and spaced out, cleaning methodically slow and thorough until Cal put his hand on my shoulder. It was noon and I slipped my phones off. "Yeah?"

"Someone's at the door."

We went to the security monitor and saw it was the Viking, Gunnar.

"What is it? You have beer flavored nipples?"

I rolled my eyes. "This from the man with his own fan club? You're one to talk."

"Yeah, but pussy don't come sniffing around."

"Crass. I'll get rid of him."

The main building was connected to the far one we were in and I wiped the grease from my hands as I went, but my nails were still black. I locked Cal in safely and opened the door. This building had the legit cars with no questions, tunes we did for ourselves, the cars that came our way with all the right papers. Pink slip didn't mean much these days.

In the light of day Gunnar was handsome. He looked clean and wholly masculine, his skin golden and his hair a lighter shade of the same color. I swallowed and for a moment wished I was cleaner and not dressed in coveralls. "Hello. How did you find this place?"

"I asked around."

That meant he'd asked Patrick. I wondered what the devil thought of that. "What is it you need?"

He held up a bag. Costello's, my favorite, but he couldn't have known. "I brought lunch."

Just then my stomach growled. "Then come on in."

He stepped inside and I did a cursory look. No gun that I could see, just tight white t-shirt and jeans. Okay, he looked like a wet dream in the sunlight, too bad the night hid the lines of his face and the green of his eyes.

I led him to a bench with a radio playing Soul Asylum on it on the 90's Café All Request Hour show. He set the bag down with two drinks and I kicked out a bench which we both sat on, each looping one leg over.

I sniffed heaven. "Mmm, cheesy beefs, heart attacks on buns."

"It's the best they have."

"Glad they brought it back. So what brings you here bearing food?"

He blushed slightly. "You're very curt, aren't you?"

What was it, was 'curt' on some word-of-the-day calendar somewhere? "So?"

"Makes it hard. Men like women to be a little more coy, you know. It's not so challenging."

"I'm a challenging woman. Men have to get used to that."

"Look, would you have dinner with me?"

I blinked at that, the concept of a date so foreign that it took a moment to sink in. "I'm flattered, but I don't think that's a good idea, Gunnar."

"What is it? You have something going on with that Patrick guy?"

"No. Look, you're new to the circuit, but everyone there, it's a secret life. For most of them, they're in school right now, or working, like me. People have spouses, parents, siblings, friends who don't know about the world. We none of us mix business with pleasure."

"You work with Cal." He said strangely and I realized he must be jealous.

"Cal and I have worked together for a long time. We own this together. It's all business. I don't know where he lives or what he does when we're not here or on the circuit."

"Than what is it with Crilly?"

"None of your business, but nothing current, I can assure you. Now let's eat the damn sandwiches before they get cold."

Thank god I ran every day, because a cheesy beef is beef, cheddar, mushrooms, and cream cheese on a bun. There were chips and soda too, he'd thoughtfully gotten me a diet.

When we were done we sat in silence for a moment. Then he said "What's your real name?"

"Patrick didn't tell you?" He shook his head. "It's Aileen. Is Gunnar really yours?"

"Yes. I was born in Denmark, but my family moved here when I was two."

What the hell did I say to that? Until a month ago my life had been spent working with a man who said barely three words a day, coming home to listen to my chatterbox niece and nephew, my brother who only yelled, and help that never spoke. My social skills were rusty.

"Gunnar, look, like you said I'm curt. I don't date, I wouldn't even know how if I tried, so let me try to be honest here. I like you, you're nice, you have good taste in cars, and you seem to have...handled that night well. I'm not looking for a boyfriend, but I do find you attractive. The next twenty minutes is as good as any time."

He wore his expressions naked and he was clearly surprised. I stood and went to the first aid kit at the end of the bench and opened it. I pulled a condom from Cal's stash and turned. He was quiet, stealthy for a giant, and right behind me.

I passed him the condom in a way I hoped conveyed that I was willing and that I wanted him to take charge. His eyes were so dark they almost looked brown, but they were definitely green, and lit from within as he palmed the packet.

He went for a kiss but I turned my face and gave him my neck as I splayed my hands on his chest. He felt huge and warm, not quite as hard as Patrick, but lean. He set the condom down on the table started to unbutton the coveralls.

He kissed my collarbone and I knew the moment he realized I wore only my bra and panties beneath it by his groan. I stepped back to pull off my shoes and back towards the lounge. He shoved the foil packet into his pocket and followed me, but shucked his boots at the door.

Inside the lounge we had couches and I settled on one as he locked the door. I don't know what I expected, I guess a more gentle approach from his expressions, but he looked hard. "Take them off," he ordered me gruffly.

The thrill of submission made me hurry and from his reaction I knew he knew this game just as well. I wouldn't have to explain anything and the thought made me cream. He tugged his own clothes off until he was naked and he was gorgeous.

My traitorous mind compared him to Patrick and found just different enough that the leaner physique and paler coloring didn't seem like a handicap. His penis was long, very long, possibly too long for me, and a little thicker than average with a curve at the end, very slight.

"Eyes up here," he ordered and I met his gaze. He seemed pleased at my nerves. "Take off your bra."

I peeled it off and let my breasts spill into the cool air, the nipples pebbling. Something felt off and in the back of my mind reason was taking root. I didn't fuck strangers. I knew Patrick, where to find him, who he ran with, I knew nothing about Gunnar except his car and his name.

Something must have shown on my face because he moved quickly and knelt between my legs. I could only watch and gasp as he bowed his golden head and ripped my panties off. His tongue was a flash, an odd first move for a dominant man to make, but not for a desperate one.

He had talent, neat tricks with the tip of his tongue and measured pressures increasing until he found my ultimate comfort level. The orgasm built up quickly, centered completely in my clitoris. Just as it approached his phone began to ring.

He swore but did not stop and the phone stopped. I built up again but the phone began to beep. "Emergency," Gunnar said and pulled back. I tried to close my legs but his shoulders blocked the way as he opened the phone. "Speak," he commanded and buried his head in my pussy again.

I was aghast but it didn't help. I came and he slipped his free hand up to clamp over my mouth. I had never felt so divorced from my pleasure, so used, so low, and so humiliated to know I loved it.

"I have to go." He shut off the phone, rose up, and kissed me. I sat there, dazed, as he dressed hastily and slid out. As I sat there my mind wandered to Patrick, and for a mournful moment I realized Patrick wouldn't have given in. He'd've made me wait for it, and beg for it.

Angry, more at myself than Gunnar, I dressed, smoothed my hair, and rejoined Cal. "What was that all about?" he asked softly.

"I think Gunnar's a cop."

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