Grease Monkey Business Pt. 03

None of this was news to Julie, and she responded with twelve consecutive fast laps, faster than anything we'd run all day, except draft-assisted laps. It was enough to get the gap we needed, and solidify our position.

The counter was down to one hour and fifty minutes when Julie left the pits, blending into traffic, still in third place, but only by a few seconds. Now was not the time to squabble over space, and when the DP caught up, she just fell into his wake again.

On fresher tires, she was able to stick to him for the entire duration of his fuel load. It was the pivotal moment in the race, and the crew was all smiles.

I was smiling, too, but deep down, the concern I always felt when she was driving muddied my happiness. She had already dodged one bullet today, and now she was driving more aggressively than usual, at a time when the normal level of 'give and take' between drivers was becoming less 'give', and more 'take'.

She used the faster car in front of her for aerodynamic help, but also as a blocker, providing a small measure of protection from other cars movements.

When her blocker pitted, we once again moved into P3, but now much closer to the second-place car.

"I see your ass now," she growled, clearly focused on our quarry. "Here, kitty, kitty. Come to Julie. I won't hurt you. I just wanna steal your Rolex."

The car in front was doing well, and the driver in that seat was experienced. He was intentionally adjusting his pace, so that traffic wouldn't cost him too much by catching it at the wrong place, but it was still costing him time. One-tenth here, two-tenths there... Julie was inching closer each lap.

Then he pitted.

"P2... Julie Stroud!" the spotter informed her.

"Roger that," she giggled, "but the show ain't over. Gotta keep him back there."

She did her best, using every car for every bit of draft she could, and continuing to pull in those fractions of a second each lap, until it was time for our stop.

Our last stop.

"Okay, guys," Chip said over the radio. "I don't really need to tell you this, but this is our last pit stop, so let's do it right. Don't rush. Do it right, just like we practice. We've all worked really hard to get to this point, and we're not giving anything back, are we?"

I saw a lot of heads shake, and thumbs up, as the crew members took a deep breath. The tire changers bumped fists, then butted their helmeted heads, ready for action.

"Here she comes," he called out, and the car stopped on its marks.

To me, things seemed to move in slow motion, as the crew leapt into action. Scarcely had the wheels stopped turning before the air guns were spinning the wheel nuts off, even as the car popped up on the jacks. The worn tires were yanked off, replaced with fresh rubber, and the guns whirred once more, cinching the wheels tight. Meanwhile, the gas man held the large hose in its receptacle, and the jack man peeled a clear layer off the windshield, giving Julie a clean view ahead. He even had time to tweak the back wing, making a minor adjustment, before he stepped back to his hose. The tires were done, and as the gas man uncoupled, the car dropped. Julie fired the engine, and left, in a cloud of tire smoke.

Chip clicked his stopwatch, and looked at the display. Then he looked again, and smiled.

"Great work, guys!" he cheered, arms held high. "Fastest stop of the day! Okay, Julie, it's all on you now. Go get him. Run his ass down!"

"Consider it done," she purred, rejoining the race, and pulling into traffic just behind a PC car. She let him block for her, until a faster car caught up from behind, then switched partners.

The official clock showed forty-five minutes remaining. We were in P3, having been passed in the pits, but we were closer than before the stop. All we needed to do was stay where we were, and the other car's final stop would put us in second again.

Of course, we weren't the only ones with a team of strategists, crunching numbers. The car we were chasing had them too, and they rolled their final dice a few laps later, short-pitting ahead of schedule, for fuel only. It brought them out quicker, and closer behind us than we would have liked, but also cost them speed, in the form of fresh tires, which we had.

The final stint would be a shootout, and the advantage they might normally have had was reduced to manageable levels.

May the best driver win. You can guess who I was pulling for.

***

For the first time in the last twenty-four hours, Daytona International Speedway was quiet. The fans had gone home, many still talking about the exciting finish they'd seen.

I was leaning against the wall of the shower, inside the motorhome that had been our little love nest for the last couple of days, my ears ringing from the constant roar of horsepower. It would be days before they stopped.

Julie was... you know, I'm not really sure just where she was, right now. Probably with Chip, or talking to some reporter about the last stint, and the final outcome of the pitched battle she had waged with the number 11 Daytona Prototype. I'm sure her adrenaline level would sustain her for hours.

Mine, on the other hand, was drained. Other than a few cat-naps here and there, I hadn't slept since the race started, and that fact had caught up with me.

That final stint had been pretty exciting, I'll admit. The last twenty-five laps... I had no idea I could hold my breath that long.

When our competition pulled out of the pits, he had been three seconds back of Julie. Due to traffic and her spirited driving, it took him ten laps to reach her rear bumper, if these cars had bumpers. Then the fun really began.

With the overall leader on a lap of his own, well out in front, the focus of attention fell on the only undecided battle on track that mattered.

Twenty-four hours is a long time. Maybe not so much for the average person, but for a race car, it's an eternity of torture. There were only two cars left that had avoided mechanical issues. Only one PC car was running, and it was just logging laps to ensure the class win. Our teammates had been slowed by gremlins. All of which adds up to helping put us where we were, and we intended to take advantage of the opportunity.

With that in mind, I had watched my darling Julie drive her figurative ass off to finish. No doubt, the 11 car wasn't at its best, with worn tires and a slightly sick engine, but it was fast enough under most circumstances to get past us. Julie simply wasn't willing to accept that, and she used every trick in her arsenal to stay in front.

Several times, the DP managed to get along side, but never had the chance to complete the pass. Once, he did make it past, entering a first turn on the inside, but he missed his braking point and went high, letting Julie cross over behind him and regain the spot.

The decisive move was hers.

Just before the leader began his final lap, Julie held the advantage as they entered turn 6, leading out onto the high banking. As always seemed the case, a group of slower GTD cars ahead were running three-wide, exiting the turn. She went right, hoping to sweep around them high on the banking before the chasing DP could catch her. It was a snug fit.

Daytona is a wide track. NASCAR routinely runs three-wide here, and under the right circumstances, have even seen an adventuresome driver go four-wide... but not in the turns. It was only her split-second decision that let it work, and she still scraped the wall slightly, squeezing through the hole before it closed.

The DP found himself trapped behind a wall of cars, even if for only a moment, while Julie rocketed away, building enough of a cushion that she was able to run the last lap-and-a-half unmolested. She crossed the finish line, to confirm our class victory, and cement second overall.

On the podium, Julie was sandwiched between Kenny and Nick. Julie patted Kenny on the chest in congratulations, which was completely normal... until he patted her back, on the same spot. He seemed to be the only one who realized what he'd done, and he made eye contact with me, a sheepish look on his face.

I used two fingers to point at my eyes, then at him, sternly but silently telling him I was watching him, and saw what he did. Then I smiled, letting him know I understood that he hadn't done it intentionally, simply getting caught up in the moment.

What followed was a couple of hours of celebration, cameras, and confetti. There was only one minor conflict, and Chip took care of it.

That conflict was with Gunnar Ericsson, the driver who Julie had bested in that final stint. He had come to shake Julie's hand, but not all his words were complimentary.

"You're lucky I'm a patient man," he warned. "I could have turned you, easily."

"I'm sure you could have," she smiled. "Of course, they frown on that, don't they?"

"Yes. I had no desire to wreck you and get in trouble myself," he answered. "I still should have beat you, though."

"It's not her job to let you past," Chip stepped in.

"No, I suppose not. It's my job," Gunnar told Chip. "If we hadn't had mechanical problems, you would have been a dot in my rearview. You were lucky."

"You know, I'm thinking maybe next year, we'll field a DP team," Chip grinned. "Then she can kick your ass again, and you'll have a whole year to work on new excuses. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to my driver?"

I had watched as Chip pulled her aside, spending a few minutes in animated conversation with her. They traded smiles, and he patted her forearm as they shook hands. Julie looked in my direction, and stepped away from him for a moment.

"Hi, honey," she smiled, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Chip needs me to do a few interviews. I'm sorry, I'm going to be busy for about another hour. Why don't you go back to the camper, and rest. I'll tell you all about it when I get back."

"Um, sure," I yawned, holding her close. "What was Chip talking about?"

"I promise, I'll tell you everything," she repeated, kissing me softly. "Trust me?"

"Always," I nodded, "but the curiosity will kill me."

"How about if I save you from that fate?" she giggled. "I can tell you this; it's very good news. Will that tide you over?"

"Hmmmm. Good news?" I replied, pondering the possibilities. "I suppose it'll have to do. Fine. I'll go warm up the bed, and await your return. Don't be too late?"

"I'll be there as soon as I can," she assured me, and left with another kiss.

After my shower, I crawled into our bed. I must have been more fatigued than I thought, because I didn't even hear her come in. I didn't hear her get undressed, or hear her in the shower. It wasn't until I felt soft lips on mine, and a few droplets of water on my face, that I woke and found her leaning over me. She was smiling.

"Hi, Sweetheart," she whispered. "I'm sorry to wake you, but we have plenty to talk about. I mean, you wanted to know what Chip was talking to me about, right?"

"Um, yeah, I do," I replied, rubbing my eyes. Julie dropped her towel, and slid into bed beside me. "So? What's the good news?"

"Well, remember that I was worried about messing up the moment that might change our lives?" she asked, cuddling into my side.

"Yes," I nodded, and kissed her damp hair. "I assume, if it's good news, that those fears proved unfounded?"

"You're quite correct," she smiled, tickling my chest with her soft touch. "If we want to, we can change things together. Would you like to come with me?"

"Julie, you know you mean the world to me, and I'll follow you anywhere," I answered her. "My life is nothing without you."

"I didn't want to assume," she said quietly. "You have a life of your own."

"Our future is together," I told her. "That's all that matters. So, where is that future taking us? What did Chip say?"

"There's so much, it's hard to know where to start," she said, rolling on her back. My eyes followed the soft rebound of her breasts as they moved on her chest, settling a split second after she stopped.

"Okay. Let's start with next year. Are we racing here again?" I prompted. "If yes, in what class?"

"Well, I think that guy being an ass really pissed him off, because..." she began, then smiled wider, "... Yes, he wants me back, and it will probably be in a Daytona Prototype. Maybe a Riley, if he wants to stick with Ford power. Maybe another manufacturer. It doesn't really matter to me. He wants me to drive... I'll drive."

"That's awesome, baby!" I smiled. "So, we know what we're doing this time, next year. What about in between?"

"Um, I don't think it involves doing oil changes anymore," she said cryptically. "At least, not on customer cars. Maybe on my own, or yours, but that's about it. Chip wants me under contract."

"So do I," I laughed, intertwining my fingers with hers. "I know the kind I'm talking about. What's he thinking?"

"He'd like me to sign a development deal. It would pay pretty well, and I'd be doing some seat time in the team's NASCAR cars," she explained. "Some testing, some research, and a few races in the Xfinity car. It could lead to a full-time ride, in the next couple of years."

That definitely sounded like good news to me, but she said it in such an even tone, I knew she was viewing it with some concern.

"That's great, right?" I asked. "Isn't that what you want? I know how much racing means to you. Why the hesitation?"

"Before I met you, I would have jumped at this opportunity, without a second thought," she clarified.

"I'm sorry?" I frowned.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," she giggled, sitting up quickly. Again, her beautiful breasts swung, and attracted my eyes. "It's just that I have more to consider now that we're together. It's not just up to me anymore."

"Yes, it is, honey," I said softly. "I'd never keep you away from your dreams."

"But I know how much you worry," she smiled, looking into my eyes.

"Sure, I worry, but I trust you. You're a good driver. I know racing will never be risk free, but you're safer out there than on the road on the way to the track," I assured her. "I'll get used to it."

"So, that's a yes?" she whispered, shifting closer to me. I caressed her arm, from the shiny Rolex on her wrist upward, and brushed my fingertips over her left nipple.

"Of course," I smiled.

"Are you sure you don't need a little more persuading?" she purred, pulling the sheet lower. Her hand found my penis, and stroked it gently. "I can be very persuasive."

"Well, um, perhaps I've changed my mind," I smiled, leaning back while she arranged herself between my spread legs. She grinned up at me, licking her lips, as my cock grew stiffer in her hand.

"Oh! Wait! I almost forgot!" she gasped, jumping up, and darting out the door. She came back with a box in her hand, and put it beside me. "This is actually from Chip. He said he thinks you'd appreciate it more than anyone else, since he already has several of them, and thanks you for loaning me to the team. You can open it. I'll get back to persuading you."

As Julie's lips began to slide wetly down my shaft, and her tongue swirled seductively around the head, l reached out and picked up the box.

I cracked it open.

It was my turn to gasp. Maybe it was the blowjob I was enjoying greatly, or maybe it was the glittering watch in the box.

As team owner, Chip had been presented with the trophy for winning the class, as well as a watch exactly like the one on Julie's wrist. The trophy he was keeping. The watch and the girl were mine.

"Really? He's letting me have his Rolex?" I mumbled, as Julie established a smooth rhythm.

"Mmmmmm hmmmm," she moaned, never breaking her pace.

I turned the watch over. The back was engraved: Rolex 24 at Daytona, Winner.

Looking down, I made eye contact with my darling Julie, as she lovingly sucked my cock. I glanced again at the watch.

Yeah, I definitely won.

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I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm sure there's more for Red and his speed racer, Julie. Please cast your votes.