My BBC Stories: Junk in the Trunk (eBook, ePUB)
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When the mother of a former lover turns up at Tysheem's summer job, he finds out that she knows what they did to her college-student daughter. And can she please have the same. Tysheem and his boys close the shop for an afternoon of action that satisfies Mrs. Anderson's need for dark and strange pleasures. Even when they finish, there are more surprises for the satisfied mother."About three, this sweet Audi with Iowa plates pulled up. It was an R8, luxury sports model. It was long, and low, and looked like it could go about as fast as light. The paint-job was a metallic flake blue, and had win...
When the mother of a former lover turns up at Tysheem's summer job, he finds out that she knows what they did to her college-student daughter. And can she please have the same. Tysheem and his boys close the shop for an afternoon of action that satisfies Mrs. Anderson's need for dark and strange pleasures. Even when they finish, there are more surprises for the satisfied mother.
"About three, this sweet Audi with Iowa plates pulled up. It was an R8, luxury sports model. It was long, and low, and looked like it could go about as fast as light. The paint-job was a metallic flake blue, and had windows tinted illegally dark, so the driver was a vague, pale shape behind the wheel. The only thing marring its beauty was the fact that the left rear shoe was almost flat. It wobbled and flapped as the car pulled up onto our stretch of the sidewalk.
I got up and approached the car, full of admiration. I was so enamored of the car, that, at first, I didn't notice the driver get out. Instead, I ran my hand over the glass-smooth finish. I could see myself, distorted in the paint.
Presently, my dark reflection was joined by a very pale one of a tall, white woman with blond hair. This apparition said, "Can you fix me up?"
I turned and saw her. She was just under six feet tall, with a long mane of golden hair. Being the Memorial Day weekend, it was warm, and she wore appropriately brief clothing a short, sleeveless dress that showed off toned shoulders and arms. Her hands were delicate, well manicured with red polish, engagement and wedding rings. Below the hem of the dress were well tanned legs with tennis muscles, ending in dainty sandals. Her toes wore the same red polish. Her face was tanned with the kind of lines that showed she was somewhere around fifty. Eyes blue, cheeks lean, lips full and pink. She was beautiful by any standard.
And for all that, there was something familiar in the way she looked
"Yes, I can, miss!" I said.
She smiled a million dollars and my heart did a somersault.
Actually, it wasn't my heart. Thank god my shorts went down to my knees!
"That's wonderful," she said. "I'm in town visiting my daughter's school, and then this..." She trailed off, looking first at her car, then flicking a glance at my shorts, which now had an extra ridge, as it were.
I grinned. "Well, I can take care of that right away," I said. I grabbed a jack and wheeled it around to the rear of the Audi. "You gotta watch out on the streets of New York City. They are notoriously bad for tires!"
"Is that so," she said.
"It's a fact." I crouched and slipped the jack under her car, and positioned it under the frame. I hit the big lever and started pumping. At the same time, I glanced at the woman. Her legs were amazing. I looked away and concentrated on working the jack's handle.
As the rear of the car lifted clear, the woman suddenly squatted to peer under the car. Just then, I could see all the way up her legs to the white of her panties.
I looked away as soon as she shot a glance at me. I wasn't too quick not to see her sly smile. So, she wanted me to look. I locked the jack and knelt by the tire and spun it. There was a nail stuck in the tire, making a slow leak. "There it is."
"What's that?"
"It's a nail," I said. I turned to say some more, and couldn't for a few moments. She was still squatting there, legs apart. I could see everything. I coughed nervously. Finally, I said, "It's stuck in a hole, making the tire slowly lose air."
She laughed. It was friendly, not malicious. I looked up. She was not upset. She said, "So you can fill my hole, I mean in the tire." Her eyes flicked down at my obvious erection.
"Yeah," I said.
"Will you fill it?"
I looked her in the eyes. "Any time you say."
"How about right now," she said. Brief pause. "The tire, that is."
"About three, this sweet Audi with Iowa plates pulled up. It was an R8, luxury sports model. It was long, and low, and looked like it could go about as fast as light. The paint-job was a metallic flake blue, and had windows tinted illegally dark, so the driver was a vague, pale shape behind the wheel. The only thing marring its beauty was the fact that the left rear shoe was almost flat. It wobbled and flapped as the car pulled up onto our stretch of the sidewalk.
I got up and approached the car, full of admiration. I was so enamored of the car, that, at first, I didn't notice the driver get out. Instead, I ran my hand over the glass-smooth finish. I could see myself, distorted in the paint.
Presently, my dark reflection was joined by a very pale one of a tall, white woman with blond hair. This apparition said, "Can you fix me up?"
I turned and saw her. She was just under six feet tall, with a long mane of golden hair. Being the Memorial Day weekend, it was warm, and she wore appropriately brief clothing a short, sleeveless dress that showed off toned shoulders and arms. Her hands were delicate, well manicured with red polish, engagement and wedding rings. Below the hem of the dress were well tanned legs with tennis muscles, ending in dainty sandals. Her toes wore the same red polish. Her face was tanned with the kind of lines that showed she was somewhere around fifty. Eyes blue, cheeks lean, lips full and pink. She was beautiful by any standard.
And for all that, there was something familiar in the way she looked
"Yes, I can, miss!" I said.
She smiled a million dollars and my heart did a somersault.
Actually, it wasn't my heart. Thank god my shorts went down to my knees!
"That's wonderful," she said. "I'm in town visiting my daughter's school, and then this..." She trailed off, looking first at her car, then flicking a glance at my shorts, which now had an extra ridge, as it were.
I grinned. "Well, I can take care of that right away," I said. I grabbed a jack and wheeled it around to the rear of the Audi. "You gotta watch out on the streets of New York City. They are notoriously bad for tires!"
"Is that so," she said.
"It's a fact." I crouched and slipped the jack under her car, and positioned it under the frame. I hit the big lever and started pumping. At the same time, I glanced at the woman. Her legs were amazing. I looked away and concentrated on working the jack's handle.
As the rear of the car lifted clear, the woman suddenly squatted to peer under the car. Just then, I could see all the way up her legs to the white of her panties.
I looked away as soon as she shot a glance at me. I wasn't too quick not to see her sly smile. So, she wanted me to look. I locked the jack and knelt by the tire and spun it. There was a nail stuck in the tire, making a slow leak. "There it is."
"What's that?"
"It's a nail," I said. I turned to say some more, and couldn't for a few moments. She was still squatting there, legs apart. I could see everything. I coughed nervously. Finally, I said, "It's stuck in a hole, making the tire slowly lose air."
She laughed. It was friendly, not malicious. I looked up. She was not upset. She said, "So you can fill my hole, I mean in the tire." Her eyes flicked down at my obvious erection.
"Yeah," I said.
"Will you fill it?"
I looked her in the eyes. "Any time you say."
"How about right now," she said. Brief pause. "The tire, that is."
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