by Peyton Banks
“Sir, I’m sorry you are having car issues, but he is right. We close in an hour and still have two cars to get out today. I can move some things around and get you in rotation for first thing Monday morning.”
“What am I supposed to do about this weekend? I have plans.”
I scratch my head and look back to him, giving my full attention. “I do apologize, but there is no way we can get to you before the given date. Now, if you want, I’m sure Randall can take you to another facility, but given the hour of the day, you may not have much more luck.”
“Oh, let me speak to your manager,” he spouts off.
“I am the manager,” I reply.
“Oh, okay, then I need you to get the owner on the phone right now,” he snaps back.
“I am the owner.” This is usually the part where I have to pull out my ID and proof of ownership, when I have customers who don’t believe a woman can work and hold her own in this field.
“It says right here that the owner’s name is Alex Johnson.”
I sweep aside my ponytail-gathered braids covering my name on my work suit. “Yeah, that’s what it says here. And that looks like my picture up there on the wall.”
He stands, defeated and dumbstruck.
“Now, if you want to proceed, we need to let Randall know and get your car to one of our inside bays for protection. It is supposed to rain this weekend.”
“Hey, Alex. The oil is done on the Millers’ car and I’m gonna start on the Michaels’ car now.”
“Okay, Phillip. Can you open bay seven for Mr.—
After letting out a deep sigh, he reluctantly agrees and provides his name. “Thrower. Roderick Thrower.”
“Yes, boss,” Phillip says.
“Randall, can you take the Audi R5 to bay seven please? I will take all the information from our client. Thank you again.”
“Sure thing, Alex. See you Sunday.” Randall hops in his flatbed tow truck and drives around to the assigned bay to drop the car.
“Now, if you don’t mind, Mr. Thrower, can you please fill out these forms? I will also need a copy of your insurance card, and a credit card to guarantee for service.”
“Now wait, how do I know you won’t charge my card?”
“Oh, I will. I will charge it one dollar to make sure it is valid and will run the total balance after all work is complete. This will be, of course, after I go over, in detail, the charges—including the breakdown. Please make sure I have all numbers of contact for you.”
“Even my mother’s number?”
“If that’s where I can find you, sure. Even your barber.”
He smiles at my comment and passes me his charge card and the other requested information.
Meanwhile, I send a text to my Uber friend to offer a free ride home for Mr. Thrower. After I review the information, I collect his keys.
“Now, just follow me to the diagnostic center and I will see if I can at least give you a rough idea of what’s going on.”
“After you,” he says with chivalry.
We walk through the facility and I can tell he is admiring how I operate my business. Each bay is a car's home from in to out. All mechanic work is done on the garage side and once complete, the vehicle is washed, dried, and put back in its bay until customer pick up or delivery. I stake my name and business representation on taking care of the vehicle's needs. I explain this as we stroll through until we reach the destination.
“Okay, so per your intake form, you said that you were driving, it sputtered, you gave it gas, then it sputtered and died.”
“Correct. I just had it serviced about two weeks ago.”
“Did they give you any paperwork for your maintenance checkup?”
“Yeah. It should be here in the glove box.” He opens it and the papers are organized which pleases me immensely. He hands me the latest service record and I notice at the bottom id states that the software needs to be updated.
“Hmm, was there any discussion about the software?”
“Yeah, they said it was required, but they needed my approval and at the time I couldn’t provide it to them. Is that the problem?”
“That could be one of them. It also looks like a sensor issue according to the code reading. I will know more on Monday.” I close the door and we exit the bay, locking the door on the way out.
“Well, I guess I will call for a ride,” he says, pulling out his phone.
“Oh, no need. I called one for you. Part of the perks of doing business with us. In fact, your ride is already here.” I signal to the waiting SUV and the driver waves back.
“Wow. You do run a first-class business. I apologize for my behavior earlier.”
“It’s water under the bridge. Enjoy your weekend. Talk to you on Monday.” I turn and head back to the garage to finish up the last of the cars and get the customers called for pickup or delivery.
2
Roderick
I wake with a woody stiffer than I have ever had. All because of Alex. That little firecracker was in my bed last night. Not literally, but in my dreams and thoughts after a long hot shower and nightcap. Her long brown and blonde tipped braids carefully tied up into a ponytail that drapes just over her shoulder. The richness of her caramel skin, and the lines of tattoos on her wrists that I can only hope she has more of. I can tell she’s a no-holds-barred, no-shit-taking woman. But last night, all I could think about was seeing what she had hidden under that jumpsuit.
My thoughts of what I’d do prove too much, and I grab the shaft of my dick and jerk myself slowly. No lube needed, thanks to the seepage at the head. Just enough to help me on my mission of coming with her name on my lips. The strokes intensify as my balls tense up, about ready to release my load, but all things come to a halt when my phone rings.
“Hello?” I say with a rushed breath.
“Hi, Mr. Thrower. This is Curry from the Audi dealership.”
“Okay. Hi.”
“The reason for my call is Ms. Johnson has informed us that we failed to service your vehicle properly at your last visit. We should’ve taken the time to ensure all was completed before calling you in. We have worked out an agreement with her and we will pay for the tow and the repair charges.”
“Oh, wow. She did that? Well, thanks.”
“Yeah, she is highly respected in this field of work and a fierce competitor. You chose wisely with her.”
“Well, thank you for the call and for taking care of the bill.”
“No problem, sir. We also arranged a car for personal use. It should be to your house in about twenty minutes. Just need to show the driver your ID and sign a form.”
“That’s great. Thanks!”
“Again, our apologies. Have a nice weekend.”
The call disconnects. I sit in amazement of what she was able to do for me. I go to call her but remember her shop is closed on weekends. Instead, I set up for a floral arrangement to be delivered on Monday. A buzz from the intercom alerts me to a visitor.
“Who is it?” I respond.
“It’s Howard from the Audi dealership. I have a car drop off for you.”
“Oh yeah. Give me a few minutes to throw on some shoes. I’ll be right down. Can you put the car in spot eight, please?”
“Yes, sir. See you soon.”
I throw on my basketball shorts and slides, grab my wallet and keys, then head down to meet the driver.
Upon my arrival, I spot a black Audi R8. The model my dreams are based on.
“Surely this is a mistake,” I say to the driver. “I had an R5.”
“No, sir. It looks like the owner of the dealership, Curry Owens, arranged for this as a weekend courtesy. It’s one of our dealer demos.”
“Sounds good to me. Where do I sign?” I hand him my ID and he snaps a picture with the camera of his iPad before handing me the keys.
“That’s all. Enjoy.”
He climbs back into the delivery vehicle and leaves. I open the car and sit in the seat, listening to t
he sound of the engine as it comes to life with the push of the button. This is on my dream car list. As tempted as I am to go around the block a few times, I refrain and start back upstairs to review my plans for the evening.
I place a call to a few of my stand-bys, but they all seem to have plans. Thinking back to my rule of not dating anyone I work with, I contemplate calling Daphne, but back out when Lucas calls me.
“Hey, man. What are you doing today?” he says upon my answer.
“Shit, I don’t know. My car broke down yesterday, so I had to put it in the shop, but they let me borrow an R8 for the time being.”
“No way. Simone would be so pissed if I got one of those.”
“Tell me about it. It’s expensive. But what about you, what you got going on?”
“Just dropped Monie off, thought maybe we could go grab lunch.”
“Sure, I have time. Wanna go to McGinty’s?”
“Bet. See you in fifteen.” We disconnect and I stroll over to my closet to find me something to wear, then saunter off to the shower.
The water shoots out in pulsating streams. I dip my head under the spray, wetting my dome before raising it to allow the droplets to wash over my body. Taking the shower gel into my hand, I squeeze a good amount into my palm and lather my skin. When I return to my dick, the memory of this morning resurfaces.
Suddenly visions of her grease marked face and hands explode in my mind. I imagine she’s touching every ab and tracing my V-line down to my balls. Her braids tease my stomach as she swallows me whole, and I grow inside her mouth. She moans softly as the precum slides down her throat.
My hand grips my base and pumps up and down while my imagination takes over. She steps out of her uniform and slides her tight hole over the head of my dick. Descending slowly to take all of me into her pussy. Her sweat drips onto my chest while I grip her hips. She bounces up and down, urging her orgasm to its peak and me to mine.
“Alex,” I call out, my pumps getting faster as my balls tighten, heart drums louder, and breath quickens. Soon a warm gush of semen explodes from the eye of my dick and hits the tile wall of the shower.
“What the fuck?” I say, in realization that this woman, whom I only met yesterday, has now become my every thought.
Alex
Pre-game has started for me and my girl Keisha. This new club, which has only been open for two months, is the talk of all of Chicago.
Red Hot is a chill atmosphere of food, drinks, and live entertainment with dancing, and after the week I’ve had, I'm in need of all four.
“Okay, here is the first pre-game of the evening,” my friend Keisha says, entering my room carrying the libations for the start of the evening.
The first taste slides down my throat, leaving a cool, wet trail that invites me for more. “Ooh, girl. You went a bit heavy on the tequila.”
“You complain’?”
“Uh, no. Just don’t want to get lit before we even leave. You know that would only lead to not going anywhere.”
“I've been looking forward to this all week. There is no way I’m not going out. Especially tonight, when they have a surprise performer. So, you know all the big banks will be there.”
Keisha is not without money and not an opportunist by any means, but she does look for someone who can at least match what she brings to the table.
“I’m not looking for any ballers, or whatever. I just want a nice evening out. No cars, trucks, or assholes who look down on women in this field. Just good vibes—only.” I finish off my drink and continue to get dressed.
“All I know is the customer who got you all riled up must’ve really got under your skin.”
“Yeah, he did. He should be kissing my feet after the deal I worked out for him with the dealership.”
“You gonna tell him what you did?”
“No, I just did what a good mechanic would do, no matter how much of an ass he was. Besides, the fault lies with the dealership, and they are an honorable company who wouldn’t want to hurt their reputation.”
“They keep asking you to come work for them.” She snaps her bra strap as she adjusts it to amplify just enough cleavage, then sits at the vanity and applies her makeup.
I’m not one for those mega makeup looks. Just give me some liner, a gloss that pops, and some adornments for my braids, and I’m good. But tonight, I’ll let her put a little brown on my lips to help the canvas pop, as she says.
“I know they do, and he means well, but I have absolute control over here. No need to end a dream.” I moisturize my skin with shea and almond butter, paying close attention to those areas that tend to be more calloused, especially when working on vehicles. Putting on a pair of socks to help dry some of the emollient, so my feet don’t slide in my shoes, is my last task before I go back to my bar in the kitchen.
“You want a repeat?” I ask from the doorway.
“Um, sure. I want an extra lime if you don’t mind.”
“Coming up.” My phone rings as I stroll over toward the kitchen.
“Where were you, Alex? You missed a great shower today.”
My other bestie, Simone, is chewing my ass out for missing one of our soros bridal shower.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I was still dealing with a few things with my business and time got away. Did she get a lot of things from her list?”
“Oh, she did good. There are a few things still left and, of course, cash is always best. So, am I gonna see you Sunday?”
“Yeah, I’m supposed to go out there. Randall says there is a potential new client he wants me to meet.” I drop a craft ice ball into each of the glasses and mix our drinks.
“My girl, Alex. Always about the money.”
“Especially when you have your overhead to pay for. You coming out to the spot tonight? Seeing how you are already at home.” I take a sip to make sure I got it right.
“No. Lucas has decided to keep me all to himself. We are going out on the lake tomorrow, but that’s all. Otherwise we’ll be locked up in the house.”
“Doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”
“It’s not. I just wonder where we are going in life. It’s been over a year, we downsized three months into this relationship, and things just seem, well, complacent. I could be overthinking as usual.”
“You are,” I laugh.
“Whatever. Go have fun. Relax a bit.”
“Alright, sis. I will. Love you.”
“Love you.”
The phone call ends, and I take the drinks back to my room.
Keisha takes a glass from my hand and takes a sip. “Mmm, I love this mixture,” she utters, and then takes another. “Now come on, let me get your face beat.”
I take a seat and she goes to work. A variety of liquids with alcohol content is applied first to extract the oils and unseen dirt from my face. Then she applies a tinted moisturizer, concealer, then a light dusting of a setting powder to eliminate shine. After my liner and lips are put together, I am ready for my outfit.
Keisha puts on her attire and we are ready to go. After a few selfies and snapshots for our memory book, we leave for a much-needed night out.
3
“Hey, man. Glad you could make it,” Jamie says when he spots me at the bar.
“Yeah, after my car literally died on me yesterday, I didn’t think I would be able to. Looks like a packed house is in order tonight,” I say glancing around at the incoming thrones of people.
“Well, people love a night out in a cool atmosphere.”
“It doesn’t hurt that you have one of the great R&B legends performing tonight.”
“Yeah, that too.” He looks at a group of ladies passing by, his eyes approving of the beauty in front of him.
“So, how’s Stacey and the kids?” I ask, pulling his attention and hopefully his marriage out of the fire.
“Oh, they are good. Stacey is coming in with her sister in a few. The kids are at their Nona’s.”
He turns his attention back to the incoming gro
up and this time I take a second look when I spot a familiar face.
“Alex?” I call out, when she is within earshot.
She turns and gives me that warm glow of her tawny, melanated skin, and a flash of those dazzling whites.
“Mr. Thrower. Funny running into you here,” she says.
My eyes can’t part from her luscious lips adorned with just a hint of brown tint that only accentuates the plumpness.
“Uh, yeah. This is my friend's spot and I nearly missed it, if it hadn’t been for a generous gesture from an amazing mechanic.”
She blushes at my comment. “It’s really part of how I care for my customers. Even if they do walk around with a misogynistic chip on their shoulder.” She nods accusingly.
“Ouch, I am deeply wounded and not misogynistic at all. I do, however, apologize for not taking you seriously at first. That was poor judgment on my behalf. Here let me get you a drink,” I offer, in amends for my behavior, and with a wave of her hand, she agrees. I call out an order for three house specials, not wanting to ignore the guest she has with her.
“Hi. I’m Alexandria’s friend, Keisha.” She extends her hand for a generous shake and I, in turn, place a kiss on the back instead.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. You look amazing. You both do. That is definitely different from the grease-stained coveralls you wore yesterday.”
We retrieve our drinks, thanking the bartender. I turn my focus back to Alex and her skin-toned two-piece that shows off a tight, toned midriff, and the sun-shaped tattoo around her navel only adds to her sexiness.
My gaze continues to follow her contours and curves down to her voluptuous ass and on to her shapely calves, only to break when she calls my attention.