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Speedway
- Thread starter EasyRory
- Start date
Craiger
JUB Addict
My god, Racer has everybody going. B.J., Slick, Randy, and now Adam and they all think he's straight. Why wasn't I ever in that situation...
Oh well, maybe someday. Thanks, Rory.
Craiger
Oh well, maybe someday. Thanks, Rory.Craiger
EasyRory
JUB Addict
B. J. knows better and Adam - well, Adam's complicated.
I think Racer has learned that letting the other guy do the talking is almost always a good idea. The other guy has a way of talking himself into believing whatever he wanted to believe in the first place.
Craiger
JUB Addict
That's true and Racer has that quality. There are times the silence is golden...
Craiger
Rory,
I see a LOT has been happening while I've been traveling to the left coast. I wonder if our good constable Adam also erupted?!
It's pretty clear the sounds of Slick slapping Randy, while Adam held Racer's towel in that dark, cramped space got HIS engine revving.
A great AM read while my the rest of my family snoozes in this morning.
I may have to violate the Ca water shortage short shower requests this morning.
I see a LOT has been happening while I've been traveling to the left coast. I wonder if our good constable Adam also erupted?!
It's pretty clear the sounds of Slick slapping Randy, while Adam held Racer's towel in that dark, cramped space got HIS engine revving.
A great AM read while my the rest of my family snoozes in this morning.
I may have to violate the Ca water shortage short shower requests this morning.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Spark Plugs
I noticed that Adam's car smelled of tobacco and mentioned I never noticed him smoking. “I bought it used. The previous owner smoked,” he explained
“It's in good shape for … how old is it?”
“It's a 2001. They don't pay deputies much in Ouachita Parish.”
“They don't pay pit crew much anywhere,” I answered him even thought I was pretty sure I made more than he did.
“Racer, we just spend an hour hugging in a closet and rubbing our dicks together.”
“Probably more like twenty minutes. Slick cums fast.”
“How can you be so calm about it?”
“So far you haven't arrested me. And it was your idea to hang out in the broom closet.”
“How could I arrest you? You didn't do anything?”
“I squeezed your ass ... touched your dick ...”
“It was a really small closet. That was accidental,” Adam was quick to say.
“No, it wasn't.”
“What??”
“You got a cute ass. I noticed that first thing. The first time, in the shower, when you grabbed me ...”
“Racer, you make it sound like … We can't be doing this!”
“Mostly you're doing it. I'm just along for the ride.”
He slapped a flashing light on the roof and sped through a couple of traffic lights, getting me back to my motel in a hurry.
“Good night.” His brusque manner invited no further talk.
“Seems like there are some facts in your life you need to face, Adam.”
I watched him drive away and went down an open passage toward my room. I still feeling a little wired from the Asian Spa visit and needed something. The vending machines offered various forms of liquid or solid sugar. That would keep me up til morning.
“Lookin' for something?” It was Randy, coming from the direction of Slick's room.
“It's all sugar,” I bitched.
“I got some bourbon in my room.” He stated a fact; it wasn't an invitation unless I wanted it to be. Technically, I guess, bourbon is another form of sugar, but a sip or two might taste good. And it did. I had the first drink with some ice and water.
I raised my glass to Randy. “Thanks. It's been a strange night.”
“My nights are all the same. They suck,” Randy toasted back.
“So why do you do it?” We both knew what “it” was. It was Slick.
“Two reasons,” he started to explain. “You know I had a teacher who said you always need three reasons, three points to make in an argument … but I only have two. First, I need the money and, two, I like getting fucked. Slick takes care of both needs.” He took another sip. “What made your night so strange?”
“Uh … not sex and money, exactly. Just somebody doing something I didn't really expect.”
“Eventually, Racer, once you're older than thirteen, it's ALL about sex and money. At least for gay guys it is. Sex and money, one of 'em pays for the other and it doesn't matter which. I guess straight guys get to pretend something else.”
“I wouldn't know,” I told him and his eyes opened wide. “B. J.? You met him? He's way more than my friend.”
“You know … I had a feeling about you two … they way he'd look at you … Oh, man, will Slick go crazy!” He laughed and then got serious. “I'm not going to tell him,” Randy assured me. “But he'll figure it out eventually. He not as dumb as I thought. You want another one?” Hr held up the bottle.
“Make it straight this time. Why would Slick give a shit?”
“He's in love with you. Don't pretend you don't know.”
“I figured he just wanted sex. I never counted on … love.”
“You kidding? He'd even let you fuck him. And he hasn't been fucked since he was in prison.”
“Prison!!!”
“He threw some races for big bucks when he was starting out but they couldn't prove it. Nailed him on some half-assed drug charge. He did eighteen months of a five year sentence. Learned how to take a dick when he needed to.”
“Slick told you this?”
“Howard did … who is not a bad guy if you need some advice. Howard first met Slick in the same prison.”
“How do I not know any of this???? Nobody ever says shit about it.”
“It's not in the interests of racing to talk about it. There's a lot of stuff that goes on. It all gets hushed up. Sex and money … just like everywhere. Do you want to fuck me?”
“What? NO!”
“I didn't think so. Just asking. You can if you want.”
He said that without making any physical move. No teasing, no ass-slapping, no leer. Just an honest offer, which somehow made it sexy. I didn't need reminding how hot his body was. Instead he poured more bourbon into our glasses and threw me another curve.
“You know ----?” He used a name everybody in racing knew. “He was my first. A sweet guy. Vanilla sex. Let me do the topping sometimes. But terrified the public would find out. Slick doesn't really give a shit. I think secretly he wants to public to find out he's gay. He likes me to act gay - told me he likes guys who are a little girly.”
“So why would he ...”
“Not you! He thinks you're totally straight. 'Hot and het Racer,' he calls you. Which is why I think he's hopin' you'll fuck him.” Randy looked at me to see my reaction. “Just sayin' … that's my impression.”
“I don't want to fuck him.”
“He knows that. It just makes you seem hotter in his mind.” Randy turned toward the door at the sound of a key being inserted in the lock. He wasn't surprised. “Hey, Slick,” he said.
We weren't doing a damn thing. Randy was lying on the bed, with only his shoes off and a drink in his hand. I was sitting with my shoes on in a chair ten feet away.
“I heard voices and I ...” He stopped talking when he saw me. His face showed a tension that turned quickly to anger. “Have a nice night,” he snarled sarcastically and slammed the door enough that the whole wall shook.
“Cheap motel,” Randy chuckled. “I'm lucky the hinges didn't pull out.”
“He's pissed,” I noted for something to say.
“He'll get over it. He knows we're not doing anything. He just wished you were in his room, not mine.” Randy smiled. “So, you want to fuck?” He laughed looking at my expression which was I don't know what. “Just a fuck, dude. Not a big deal.” I didn't say no. “Come here,” he beckoned. “I'm good at this.”
I was THIS close to doing it. Lying back and staring at me, Randy didn't look bad at all and this time he did give his package a squeeze. I didn't know what his dick was like, but whatever he was squeezing more than filled his hand. If he wasn't any good, Slick could afford better and Slick kept him around. His smile got wider, spoiling the atmosphere of seduction.
“I knew you'd say no.”
“I haven't said a thing,” I told him.
“Yes, you have. Go on to your room and get a good night's sleep. Slick will be pissed off tomorrow. We'll have to be nice to him. And just so you know, I'm a really good fuck.”
I almost ran back to my room and immediately called B. J. “Do you still love me?”
“Of course I do.” His voice sounded so good.
“Good, Beej, 'cause I'm getting offers.”
I noticed that Adam's car smelled of tobacco and mentioned I never noticed him smoking. “I bought it used. The previous owner smoked,” he explained
“It's in good shape for … how old is it?”
“It's a 2001. They don't pay deputies much in Ouachita Parish.”
“They don't pay pit crew much anywhere,” I answered him even thought I was pretty sure I made more than he did.
“Racer, we just spend an hour hugging in a closet and rubbing our dicks together.”
“Probably more like twenty minutes. Slick cums fast.”
“How can you be so calm about it?”
“So far you haven't arrested me. And it was your idea to hang out in the broom closet.”
“How could I arrest you? You didn't do anything?”
“I squeezed your ass ... touched your dick ...”
“It was a really small closet. That was accidental,” Adam was quick to say.
“No, it wasn't.”
“What??”
“You got a cute ass. I noticed that first thing. The first time, in the shower, when you grabbed me ...”
“Racer, you make it sound like … We can't be doing this!”
“Mostly you're doing it. I'm just along for the ride.”
He slapped a flashing light on the roof and sped through a couple of traffic lights, getting me back to my motel in a hurry.
“Good night.” His brusque manner invited no further talk.
“Seems like there are some facts in your life you need to face, Adam.”
I watched him drive away and went down an open passage toward my room. I still feeling a little wired from the Asian Spa visit and needed something. The vending machines offered various forms of liquid or solid sugar. That would keep me up til morning.
“Lookin' for something?” It was Randy, coming from the direction of Slick's room.
“It's all sugar,” I bitched.
“I got some bourbon in my room.” He stated a fact; it wasn't an invitation unless I wanted it to be. Technically, I guess, bourbon is another form of sugar, but a sip or two might taste good. And it did. I had the first drink with some ice and water.
I raised my glass to Randy. “Thanks. It's been a strange night.”
“My nights are all the same. They suck,” Randy toasted back.
“So why do you do it?” We both knew what “it” was. It was Slick.
“Two reasons,” he started to explain. “You know I had a teacher who said you always need three reasons, three points to make in an argument … but I only have two. First, I need the money and, two, I like getting fucked. Slick takes care of both needs.” He took another sip. “What made your night so strange?”
“Uh … not sex and money, exactly. Just somebody doing something I didn't really expect.”
“Eventually, Racer, once you're older than thirteen, it's ALL about sex and money. At least for gay guys it is. Sex and money, one of 'em pays for the other and it doesn't matter which. I guess straight guys get to pretend something else.”
“I wouldn't know,” I told him and his eyes opened wide. “B. J.? You met him? He's way more than my friend.”
“You know … I had a feeling about you two … they way he'd look at you … Oh, man, will Slick go crazy!” He laughed and then got serious. “I'm not going to tell him,” Randy assured me. “But he'll figure it out eventually. He not as dumb as I thought. You want another one?” Hr held up the bottle.
“Make it straight this time. Why would Slick give a shit?”
“He's in love with you. Don't pretend you don't know.”
“I figured he just wanted sex. I never counted on … love.”
“You kidding? He'd even let you fuck him. And he hasn't been fucked since he was in prison.”
“Prison!!!”
“He threw some races for big bucks when he was starting out but they couldn't prove it. Nailed him on some half-assed drug charge. He did eighteen months of a five year sentence. Learned how to take a dick when he needed to.”
“Slick told you this?”
“Howard did … who is not a bad guy if you need some advice. Howard first met Slick in the same prison.”
“How do I not know any of this???? Nobody ever says shit about it.”
“It's not in the interests of racing to talk about it. There's a lot of stuff that goes on. It all gets hushed up. Sex and money … just like everywhere. Do you want to fuck me?”
“What? NO!”
“I didn't think so. Just asking. You can if you want.”
He said that without making any physical move. No teasing, no ass-slapping, no leer. Just an honest offer, which somehow made it sexy. I didn't need reminding how hot his body was. Instead he poured more bourbon into our glasses and threw me another curve.
“You know ----?” He used a name everybody in racing knew. “He was my first. A sweet guy. Vanilla sex. Let me do the topping sometimes. But terrified the public would find out. Slick doesn't really give a shit. I think secretly he wants to public to find out he's gay. He likes me to act gay - told me he likes guys who are a little girly.”
“So why would he ...”
“Not you! He thinks you're totally straight. 'Hot and het Racer,' he calls you. Which is why I think he's hopin' you'll fuck him.” Randy looked at me to see my reaction. “Just sayin' … that's my impression.”
“I don't want to fuck him.”
“He knows that. It just makes you seem hotter in his mind.” Randy turned toward the door at the sound of a key being inserted in the lock. He wasn't surprised. “Hey, Slick,” he said.
We weren't doing a damn thing. Randy was lying on the bed, with only his shoes off and a drink in his hand. I was sitting with my shoes on in a chair ten feet away.
“I heard voices and I ...” He stopped talking when he saw me. His face showed a tension that turned quickly to anger. “Have a nice night,” he snarled sarcastically and slammed the door enough that the whole wall shook.
“Cheap motel,” Randy chuckled. “I'm lucky the hinges didn't pull out.”
“He's pissed,” I noted for something to say.
“He'll get over it. He knows we're not doing anything. He just wished you were in his room, not mine.” Randy smiled. “So, you want to fuck?” He laughed looking at my expression which was I don't know what. “Just a fuck, dude. Not a big deal.” I didn't say no. “Come here,” he beckoned. “I'm good at this.”
I was THIS close to doing it. Lying back and staring at me, Randy didn't look bad at all and this time he did give his package a squeeze. I didn't know what his dick was like, but whatever he was squeezing more than filled his hand. If he wasn't any good, Slick could afford better and Slick kept him around. His smile got wider, spoiling the atmosphere of seduction.
“I knew you'd say no.”
“I haven't said a thing,” I told him.
“Yes, you have. Go on to your room and get a good night's sleep. Slick will be pissed off tomorrow. We'll have to be nice to him. And just so you know, I'm a really good fuck.”
I almost ran back to my room and immediately called B. J. “Do you still love me?”
“Of course I do.” His voice sounded so good.
“Good, Beej, 'cause I'm getting offers.”
Rory,
Time for BJ to make a return trip, or Racer to head on home and find a different career!
Interesting chapter, Rory. Then again, they all are.
Time for BJ to make a return trip, or Racer to head on home and find a different career!
Interesting chapter, Rory. Then again, they all are.
BluesDog
Sex God
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2007
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This chapter was great fun to read. There is an almost haiku-like quality to the story in that everything is not explicitly spelled out, leaving a lot of room for the reader to develop personal interpretations of the characters. I really like some of the supporting cast, especially Randy in this installment... every time he shows up I sense a faint undercurrent of something that suggests a background where he was abused. Very intriguing.
Craiger
JUB Addict
Randy seems a bit like Paul, however, he tends to be teasing rather than needy. Poor Adam, lost and frustrated, and a cop besides... I'm proud of Racer though. I think Don is right, B.J. needs to ride in to save his "damsel" in distress. Then the two of them can ride off into the sunset. Fun chapter, Rory.
Craiger
Craiger
By the way ..... I really don't care tooooo much if all your facts are not 100% water tight accurate to the last bumper, I'm from outside US anyway ....... I'm in for the ride (I mean story). What is true & you reflect that so accurately, is boys at 19-22 are as horny as hell & can hardly think between releases. I can remember having a boner for days on end, anything could jump start it any-time any place & mostly very inconvenient. If whacking off could've caused brain damage ..... I would've been a veggie today & a total nut job.
I've always gone for the written word & a well written piece can be an instant arousal for me ...... and you sir ..... you nailed it!
Josh
I've always gone for the written word & a well written piece can be an instant arousal for me ...... and you sir ..... you nailed it!
Josh
EasyRory
JUB Addict
I try for accuracy, but, as DQ pointed out, I got the Mazda model wrong in this story. In another story I had the traffic on a street in England going the wrong way.
What bothers me in my own reading is when the mistakes are so jarring that they can't be overlooked. I *hope* I'm not guilty of that.
I've not found that to be the case, Rory. And I wasn't troubled by any details in the story per se- just had that niggling thought scratching my cranium.
Rory, your stories are amazing. I think you are extremely good with the details which are irrelevant to the story anyway, although very interesting. What I love are the amazing lines you throw in like the following:
They crack me up. How you come up with these continually, I will never know, but I love every word your write. Keep it coming.
They crack me up. How you come up with these continually, I will never know, but I love every word your write. Keep it coming.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Twenty-Nine - Taking the Turns
“Getting offers.” B. J. sounded amused. “Of course you're getting offers. People aren't blind, deaf, and stupid, not all of them. I'll make you an offer. Come back today and we'll never leave our bed again. I miss you every minute.”
“Oh, wow. Thanks, Beej, I needed to hear that.”
“It's still cold here, Racer. Mrs. Luckett raised the heat a little, but not enough. You know what? If you were here, right now, we'd be naked … in bed … I'd hug you and hold you and snuggle into that warm part of your neck ... that hollow by your collar bone and kiss you the way you like … maybe run my tongue around a little … whisper stuff to you about what I was gonna do next … provided you wanted to, of course, 'cause I'll do anything you want – you know that … except I'd keep kissing you … 'cause I can't stop ...” He spoke slowly, like he was physically experiencing every word.
Beej, you're makin' me ache.”
“If you were right here, where I could taste you, where I could hold you and kiss you, I'd make you do more than that ... Baby, I want you in my mouth … that beautiful cock of yours, arching and straining … feeling your balls get tight … I love that feeling when you change, when you go from lying back letting me suck your cock to tight balls and wet cock … pushing into me … wantin' to fuck me … I want your fire in me … I need you, Racer ...”
“Beej, I want to be there ...” I'd never hear him like this.
“AHHH, SHIT!!! Wait!!”
I heard the phone clunk as he put it down on some hard surface followed by more odd noises. A few seconds later he came back. “You there?”
“Yes! What happened?”
“You have to ask? I was touching myself, just playing with it a little, and BLAM! I came all over the place. Just from talkin' to you … Racer, you gotta come home. This is torture.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Get your ass back to Virginia!”
“I … I'll see what our schedule is … The cars are ready, but Slick isn't. He's … I don't know …” What am I saying to this man? Fuck Slick, I thought. “Fuck him,” I said. “You came while we were talking? Really?”
“If you were HERE, you wouldn't have to ASK,” B. J. said with a chuckle. “You could SEE … for YOURSELF ...”
Amazing, isn't it, how one phone call can have such a powerful effect? I couldn't stop smiling. I think I must have slept with a smile on my face; I know I woke up smiling. And hard. And ready to burst with … with what? Love? Yeah. Happiness? Yeah. Taking a piss deflated my dick but not my spirits. I was walking on a private cloud all the way to the track.
“Ches, what's the schedule look like?”
He frowned. “Damned if I know, Racer. The cars are as good as I can make 'em. The driver, howsomever, needs more tweakin'.”
“He won't drive all out,” I suggested.
“There's some barrier. He's slow in the turns. He gets intimidated by other cars. Like he's afraid of another crash.”
“Maybe a real race will get him going. It's only been trials, so far.”
“We'll know if you're right this afternoon.”
I had nothing to do, really, but wait for the race in about five hours. The cars were ready, the full pit crew was ready. The only question mark was Slick. I tried to keep myself busy, rearranging spare parts, thinking the track was dry and dusty despite the time of year and maybe it would be useful to have a few spare air filters handy. I was about to cut open a box marked Empresa ULTRA-TEK Filtros Automoviles when Howard stopped me.
“Those aren't our filters, Racer. It was a misdelivery. Leave 'em alone. The owner is going to pick them up tonight after the races,” Howard told me.
I found our usual Fram brand filters in a twenty-foot metal shipping container we were using for parts storage. I had to wonder why we'd use Mexican filters. Frams were cheap enough that even half off wouldn't persuade me to use some off-brand supplier. I pulled a couple Frams and took them out to the pit by the track. I felt one of those odd sensations, a prickliness, and noticed Howard watching me. Oh, shit, I thought. Is he checking out my ass, too? If anybody in the world seemed straight, it was Howard.
I got to the pit area and looked back, Howard was gone. I put the filters in a cabinet and took my lunch break early. I ordered a couple of fish tacos from a van and waited while they were prepared. “Where's your friend?” the cook asked.
“Uh ...” The question caught me unprepared.
“The big guy … you were with him last week I think.”
“Good memory. He's gone home ... to Virginia.”
“So, uh, you got nothing to do now?” He looked at me oddly while he wrapped up the tacos and handed them to me.
“I'm working at the track for a couple weeks,” I told him, something that should have been obvious. “It doesn't leave me much time.”
I paid and sat down in the shade to eat my lunch. The fish tacos were surprisingly good. I was almost done when the guy came out of the van, stripped his t-shirt off and ran a hose over his head.
“It's hot in there,” he commented, pointing at the van and shaking off the water. He had a tattoo on his chest; 'Cooks are Hot', it said. “If you got nothing to do, stop by the Leakin' Bucket. They got live music tonight, local guys, mostly a Rascal Flatts cover band.”
“Thanks. Maybe I will.” Was he hitting on me or just being friendly? I dumped my trash, waved back at him and left.
I still had time to kill, so I decided to walk back to the motel and get my truck. I drove to a kind of a super strip mall and parked. Off by itself was a tattoo parlor that looked not too sleazy. I'd thought about getting one before, but I never had the impulse and the cash at the same time. 'Cooks are Hot' had made me smile. It wouldn't hurt to look, I figured.
The front window was small and contained examples of the usual stuff. The elaborate 'Mom' versions, anchors, military insignia, school names, and hearts and flowers wrapped around girls names all looked ordinary. There was nothing that interested me.
“Come on in,” a voice called. “I got more designs in here.” I entered and needed a minute to get used to the low light level. “I got a book of some things I've done over here. Take a look. Did you have anything special in mind?”
“Not really. I'm just looking, seeing what I might like.”
“Sleeves are popular.” He pulled the cloth sleeve of his t-shirt up over his shoulder showing off the tattoo sleeve covering his arm shoulder to wrist. “Geometric patterns are nice, or vines, or I can incorporate anything you want to remember, like names or faces.”
“I was thinking of something not so heavy … maybe something a little funny?”
He gave me a conspiratorial wink. “Take a look at this book.” The first picture I opened to showed a naked guy with a huge erection tattooed above his real dick with the legend 'Actual Size' over it.
“That wasn't his actual actual size, was it?” I asked. The artist turned the page and showed me a picture of the guy's actual erection. The tattoo didn't exaggerate by much.
“I traced the outline and then gave him an extra inch. I don't recommend tattooing sensitive areas for your first tat, though. Go with something less painful, like this.” He turned to a picture of a guy's ass labeled, 'I'm not Easy - But I can be Had'. He showed me some more pictures of tattoos that all had a sexual theme.
“I don't know ...” Nothing really looked like ME to me.
“I can give you a temporary … so you can see if you like it. Something easy, like a frog on your ass or something. Maybe a spider? Something that won't show unless you want it to.”
“On my ass ...” I was skeptical.
“Or anyplace you want. An ass location is easy to hide.”
“What do you have on your ass?”
“I like boats and fishing. So I have twin screws.”
“How does getting fucked in the ass remind you of fishing?”
“Screws … as in the things that make ships move … not hardware store items.” The guy was wearing sweats, so it wasn't hard to pull them down and show me. He had a trim ass, with two fat-bladed propellers, one on each cheek. I looked at his ass and then looked him in the eye. Something clicked. He was in no hurry to pull his sweats up. He turned his ass toward me again. “Go ahead, feel it,” he said. “No bumps or ridges or scars, just smooth skin with a design on it.”
“Uh … er ...” My dick was telling me 'Do it, do it' and I almost did; his ass was just that enticing. The offer was unspoken, but I knew I could have fucked him right then.
He slowly pulled the sweats up and turned toward me. “Think about it. My offer is good. I'll give you a temp tat any time you want. I'm open til midnight on Friday and Saturday. Got a private area for doing the work.” I took the deepest breath of my life when I walked back out into the sunlight.
Slick was there by the time I got back to the track. He saw me arrive and made a point of talking to me out of ear shot of the rest of the crew. “Racer,” his smile was huge, “I didn't know you were gay! Man, I thought for sure you were straight! All those chicks giving you blows jobs and stuff!”
“I don't hide what I am; but I don't advertise it either,” I told him.
“We can talk later,” he told me with a wink and walked to the office to talk to Howard.
I didn't know if anyone had heard him or not, but I didn't feel like any random discussions about my sex life with crufty old pit crew guys I hardly knew. I went back to the car storage area and decided to hide out until race time. Randy had the same idea and Randy looked like shit!
“Dude, what happened?” I asked referring to the bandages on his face. It was a pile of small Bandaids stuck on top of each other, not professional looking at all. “Did Slick …?” A couple of possible horror stories came to mind.
“No, no, he didn't hit me!” Randy gave a smirky laugh. “Nothing like that. This morning Slick was messing with me and he got … overexcited, should we say? … and he accidentally fucked me right off the bed. I hit my head on the night table ...”
“You sure that's what happened? It looks painful. Did you go to a hospital?”
“You don't want to go to a hospital with what looks like signs of physical abuse. They HAVE to report it. I don't need any chats with your friend Deputy What-the-fuck!”
“Deputy Adam Adams-the-fuck,” I filled in. The area of his face covered by the bandages was large.
“Seriously? Adam Adams?” He laughed and put his hand on the bandage, “Ouch! It hurts.”
“You're gonna have a huge black eye.” I looked at him and felt concern. I still wasn't sure this wasn't something worse than an accident. “Maybe you could cover it with a tattoo.”
“Racer, you are a huge pain in the ass today.”
“A temporary tattoo. Maybe a big rose or something.” He laughed and cried as humor alternated with pain. Another thought came to mind. “How come Slick wasn't nearly as angry this morning as he seemed last night?”
“His moods change and then he remembers why he needs me.”
“His needs go beyond sex?” It seemed like an innocent question.
“Totally forget I said that.” Randy's voice was harder than it needed to be and then he suddenly lightened up. “It could have been you fuckin' me. Keep that in mind on these long nights you're spending all alone.” He extended his index finger and ran it down my shirt, making me extremely uncomfortable. I stopped him when it got to my jeans.
“Yeah, uh … Slick gave me a big 'welcome to the club' greeting. IU thought you weren't going to tell him anything,” I semi-accused him.
“I didn't. He figured it out himself after he saw us together. I told you he isn't an idiot.”
“Uh-huh!” Slick said, walking in on us. “You two together again!” He put an arm on each of our shoulders. “What do you say we hit the Asian Spa after the race?”
“I told you chicks don't do anything for me,” Randy said.
“So what? You can jack off while you watch Racer and me get blown.”
“Not into threesomes.” Randy said it matter-of-factly and walked out to the track.
“So what do you say, Racer? Just the two of us?”
“If you win, Slick. If you win … And maybe we could hear some music. The Leakin' Bucket has a band tonight.”
“Getting offers.” B. J. sounded amused. “Of course you're getting offers. People aren't blind, deaf, and stupid, not all of them. I'll make you an offer. Come back today and we'll never leave our bed again. I miss you every minute.”
“Oh, wow. Thanks, Beej, I needed to hear that.”
“It's still cold here, Racer. Mrs. Luckett raised the heat a little, but not enough. You know what? If you were here, right now, we'd be naked … in bed … I'd hug you and hold you and snuggle into that warm part of your neck ... that hollow by your collar bone and kiss you the way you like … maybe run my tongue around a little … whisper stuff to you about what I was gonna do next … provided you wanted to, of course, 'cause I'll do anything you want – you know that … except I'd keep kissing you … 'cause I can't stop ...” He spoke slowly, like he was physically experiencing every word.
Beej, you're makin' me ache.”
“If you were right here, where I could taste you, where I could hold you and kiss you, I'd make you do more than that ... Baby, I want you in my mouth … that beautiful cock of yours, arching and straining … feeling your balls get tight … I love that feeling when you change, when you go from lying back letting me suck your cock to tight balls and wet cock … pushing into me … wantin' to fuck me … I want your fire in me … I need you, Racer ...”
“Beej, I want to be there ...” I'd never hear him like this.
“AHHH, SHIT!!! Wait!!”
I heard the phone clunk as he put it down on some hard surface followed by more odd noises. A few seconds later he came back. “You there?”
“Yes! What happened?”
“You have to ask? I was touching myself, just playing with it a little, and BLAM! I came all over the place. Just from talkin' to you … Racer, you gotta come home. This is torture.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Get your ass back to Virginia!”
“I … I'll see what our schedule is … The cars are ready, but Slick isn't. He's … I don't know …” What am I saying to this man? Fuck Slick, I thought. “Fuck him,” I said. “You came while we were talking? Really?”
“If you were HERE, you wouldn't have to ASK,” B. J. said with a chuckle. “You could SEE … for YOURSELF ...”
Amazing, isn't it, how one phone call can have such a powerful effect? I couldn't stop smiling. I think I must have slept with a smile on my face; I know I woke up smiling. And hard. And ready to burst with … with what? Love? Yeah. Happiness? Yeah. Taking a piss deflated my dick but not my spirits. I was walking on a private cloud all the way to the track.
“Ches, what's the schedule look like?”
He frowned. “Damned if I know, Racer. The cars are as good as I can make 'em. The driver, howsomever, needs more tweakin'.”
“He won't drive all out,” I suggested.
“There's some barrier. He's slow in the turns. He gets intimidated by other cars. Like he's afraid of another crash.”
“Maybe a real race will get him going. It's only been trials, so far.”
“We'll know if you're right this afternoon.”
I had nothing to do, really, but wait for the race in about five hours. The cars were ready, the full pit crew was ready. The only question mark was Slick. I tried to keep myself busy, rearranging spare parts, thinking the track was dry and dusty despite the time of year and maybe it would be useful to have a few spare air filters handy. I was about to cut open a box marked Empresa ULTRA-TEK Filtros Automoviles when Howard stopped me.
“Those aren't our filters, Racer. It was a misdelivery. Leave 'em alone. The owner is going to pick them up tonight after the races,” Howard told me.
I found our usual Fram brand filters in a twenty-foot metal shipping container we were using for parts storage. I had to wonder why we'd use Mexican filters. Frams were cheap enough that even half off wouldn't persuade me to use some off-brand supplier. I pulled a couple Frams and took them out to the pit by the track. I felt one of those odd sensations, a prickliness, and noticed Howard watching me. Oh, shit, I thought. Is he checking out my ass, too? If anybody in the world seemed straight, it was Howard.
I got to the pit area and looked back, Howard was gone. I put the filters in a cabinet and took my lunch break early. I ordered a couple of fish tacos from a van and waited while they were prepared. “Where's your friend?” the cook asked.
“Uh ...” The question caught me unprepared.
“The big guy … you were with him last week I think.”
“Good memory. He's gone home ... to Virginia.”
“So, uh, you got nothing to do now?” He looked at me oddly while he wrapped up the tacos and handed them to me.
“I'm working at the track for a couple weeks,” I told him, something that should have been obvious. “It doesn't leave me much time.”
I paid and sat down in the shade to eat my lunch. The fish tacos were surprisingly good. I was almost done when the guy came out of the van, stripped his t-shirt off and ran a hose over his head.
“It's hot in there,” he commented, pointing at the van and shaking off the water. He had a tattoo on his chest; 'Cooks are Hot', it said. “If you got nothing to do, stop by the Leakin' Bucket. They got live music tonight, local guys, mostly a Rascal Flatts cover band.”
“Thanks. Maybe I will.” Was he hitting on me or just being friendly? I dumped my trash, waved back at him and left.
I still had time to kill, so I decided to walk back to the motel and get my truck. I drove to a kind of a super strip mall and parked. Off by itself was a tattoo parlor that looked not too sleazy. I'd thought about getting one before, but I never had the impulse and the cash at the same time. 'Cooks are Hot' had made me smile. It wouldn't hurt to look, I figured.
The front window was small and contained examples of the usual stuff. The elaborate 'Mom' versions, anchors, military insignia, school names, and hearts and flowers wrapped around girls names all looked ordinary. There was nothing that interested me.
“Come on in,” a voice called. “I got more designs in here.” I entered and needed a minute to get used to the low light level. “I got a book of some things I've done over here. Take a look. Did you have anything special in mind?”
“Not really. I'm just looking, seeing what I might like.”
“Sleeves are popular.” He pulled the cloth sleeve of his t-shirt up over his shoulder showing off the tattoo sleeve covering his arm shoulder to wrist. “Geometric patterns are nice, or vines, or I can incorporate anything you want to remember, like names or faces.”
“I was thinking of something not so heavy … maybe something a little funny?”
He gave me a conspiratorial wink. “Take a look at this book.” The first picture I opened to showed a naked guy with a huge erection tattooed above his real dick with the legend 'Actual Size' over it.
“That wasn't his actual actual size, was it?” I asked. The artist turned the page and showed me a picture of the guy's actual erection. The tattoo didn't exaggerate by much.
“I traced the outline and then gave him an extra inch. I don't recommend tattooing sensitive areas for your first tat, though. Go with something less painful, like this.” He turned to a picture of a guy's ass labeled, 'I'm not Easy - But I can be Had'. He showed me some more pictures of tattoos that all had a sexual theme.
“I don't know ...” Nothing really looked like ME to me.
“I can give you a temporary … so you can see if you like it. Something easy, like a frog on your ass or something. Maybe a spider? Something that won't show unless you want it to.”
“On my ass ...” I was skeptical.
“Or anyplace you want. An ass location is easy to hide.”
“What do you have on your ass?”
“I like boats and fishing. So I have twin screws.”
“How does getting fucked in the ass remind you of fishing?”
“Screws … as in the things that make ships move … not hardware store items.” The guy was wearing sweats, so it wasn't hard to pull them down and show me. He had a trim ass, with two fat-bladed propellers, one on each cheek. I looked at his ass and then looked him in the eye. Something clicked. He was in no hurry to pull his sweats up. He turned his ass toward me again. “Go ahead, feel it,” he said. “No bumps or ridges or scars, just smooth skin with a design on it.”
“Uh … er ...” My dick was telling me 'Do it, do it' and I almost did; his ass was just that enticing. The offer was unspoken, but I knew I could have fucked him right then.
He slowly pulled the sweats up and turned toward me. “Think about it. My offer is good. I'll give you a temp tat any time you want. I'm open til midnight on Friday and Saturday. Got a private area for doing the work.” I took the deepest breath of my life when I walked back out into the sunlight.
Slick was there by the time I got back to the track. He saw me arrive and made a point of talking to me out of ear shot of the rest of the crew. “Racer,” his smile was huge, “I didn't know you were gay! Man, I thought for sure you were straight! All those chicks giving you blows jobs and stuff!”
“I don't hide what I am; but I don't advertise it either,” I told him.
“We can talk later,” he told me with a wink and walked to the office to talk to Howard.
I didn't know if anyone had heard him or not, but I didn't feel like any random discussions about my sex life with crufty old pit crew guys I hardly knew. I went back to the car storage area and decided to hide out until race time. Randy had the same idea and Randy looked like shit!
“Dude, what happened?” I asked referring to the bandages on his face. It was a pile of small Bandaids stuck on top of each other, not professional looking at all. “Did Slick …?” A couple of possible horror stories came to mind.
“No, no, he didn't hit me!” Randy gave a smirky laugh. “Nothing like that. This morning Slick was messing with me and he got … overexcited, should we say? … and he accidentally fucked me right off the bed. I hit my head on the night table ...”
“You sure that's what happened? It looks painful. Did you go to a hospital?”
“You don't want to go to a hospital with what looks like signs of physical abuse. They HAVE to report it. I don't need any chats with your friend Deputy What-the-fuck!”
“Deputy Adam Adams-the-fuck,” I filled in. The area of his face covered by the bandages was large.
“Seriously? Adam Adams?” He laughed and put his hand on the bandage, “Ouch! It hurts.”
“You're gonna have a huge black eye.” I looked at him and felt concern. I still wasn't sure this wasn't something worse than an accident. “Maybe you could cover it with a tattoo.”
“Racer, you are a huge pain in the ass today.”
“A temporary tattoo. Maybe a big rose or something.” He laughed and cried as humor alternated with pain. Another thought came to mind. “How come Slick wasn't nearly as angry this morning as he seemed last night?”
“His moods change and then he remembers why he needs me.”
“His needs go beyond sex?” It seemed like an innocent question.
“Totally forget I said that.” Randy's voice was harder than it needed to be and then he suddenly lightened up. “It could have been you fuckin' me. Keep that in mind on these long nights you're spending all alone.” He extended his index finger and ran it down my shirt, making me extremely uncomfortable. I stopped him when it got to my jeans.
“Yeah, uh … Slick gave me a big 'welcome to the club' greeting. IU thought you weren't going to tell him anything,” I semi-accused him.
“I didn't. He figured it out himself after he saw us together. I told you he isn't an idiot.”
“Uh-huh!” Slick said, walking in on us. “You two together again!” He put an arm on each of our shoulders. “What do you say we hit the Asian Spa after the race?”
“I told you chicks don't do anything for me,” Randy said.
“So what? You can jack off while you watch Racer and me get blown.”
“Not into threesomes.” Randy said it matter-of-factly and walked out to the track.
“So what do you say, Racer? Just the two of us?”
“If you win, Slick. If you win … And maybe we could hear some music. The Leakin' Bucket has a band tonight.”
