Happy Friday everyone, for teacher's in the summer everyday is Friday but I still like the real thing so I can post another story. We have a brand new one from KayLynn today. Here is a link to a few more of her stories (at the bottom of that post). Now it's a long one so if you are in a hurry to leave for work you may need to wait until this evening - but don't forget to come back. It is WELL worth the read!!
The Need for Speed is Humbling
Vittoria Massarotti’s eyes lit up like it was her fifth Christmas thought her dad. She was consistent, he’d give her that. She stared at the 09 Maserati Gran Turismo just like she had stared at her first go cart – with unabashed desire. The well respected foreign car dealer, Vito Massarotti deemed it mandatory to have the newest model on the showroom floor. He was certain it brought in the serious buyers and he was probably right. They lived just over the border of New York City in an affluent Jersey town where there were three kinds of buyers: 1) those who wanted to invoke jealousy via the ever shrinking vintage cars; 2) those who wanted to impress their lovers, by leaving the ridiculous SUV family road warriors in the garage; and 3) those who needed to experience quality race car performance.
She was mortified that they had named the renamed dealership “Your Daddy’s Favorite Ride” after her grandmother’s death. To say her family shared an irreverent sense of humor would be putting it mildly. It was expected that as a woman working in a man’s realm, that she would answer the phones. She refused to answer the phone putting self respect above insanity. The thought of saying “Good Afternoon, this is Vittoria, Your Daddy’s Favorite Ride, How can I help you?” made her fantasize of poisoning their favorite – Alfredo Sauce. Vittoria had a visual of her grandmother in a perpetual coffin-spin given the inability of her father and brothers to find seriousness in most any topic. She missed her Nonna who had provided the leash, now seemingly lacking, for her testosterone laden family. She’ll never forget her laughing so hard over the book How to Murder your Husband: A Killer Cookbook. She especially laughed over “Fettuccine to Kill Alfredo”.
The sister of five previously unruly older brothers Vittoria had learned to stay out of trouble. Her idiot brothers had brought her mother to tears on too many occasions with typical stupidity. She took her job as the last born and only girl, as a chance to give them a break from all the harried parenting years. She had even resisted Dante on her father’s behalf. And that was monumental. Vito had thought he smelled trouble between her and Dante when they were teens and new to each other. But each of them had been determined to put hormones aside to earn his respect. He especially had been grateful to Dante for his control. Vito also knew that having five sons kept Dante at bay even though French lovers were notoriously sneaky. But now they were older and while Vittoria had mindlessly dated a few Italian boys through the years it was well passed the time she settled down. Back in the old country he’d have long ago arranged a marriage between she and Dante, had he been born Italian; but he had never told her so. He had hoped that his leaving the dealership for a few weeks might help them stop admiring each other from afar and get on with it already. He had never vacationed longer than two days over a weekend before today. His wife was a very patient woman. Sighing heavily he realized there were few dedicated women left in this day and age, few if any young ones. He was happy to be going away for two weeks courtesy of his brood.
Saving his most emotional hug for last, Vito would miss her most of all. A gentle kiss to his only daughter’s cheek brought grateful words, “Thank you again sweetheart for our wonderful anniversary gift. It is not lost on your mother and me that you did a wonderful job with planning all this by yourself. I know being single, they expect you to handle everything. Make sure all of your brothers all pay up,” his voice held a concerned but joking tone. With a deep pause and with seriousness he wanted to avoid, he finished, “Your mom and I will miss all of you terribly. At least I think we will… I could get distracted with your beautiful mother around me 24/7 for two weeks!!” His eyes gleamed with anticipation. He felt like a teenager again. The love between them was an ancient and envied love. It reminded Vittoria of Poe’s ‘Annabel Lee’ poem. Years after fathering too many sons he had shamelessly talked his wife into one more pregnancy, he had desperately wanted a little girl. Secretly he wanted to watch a miniature replica of his wife grow from a child to a young woman. And because he got most all that he wanted in his enchanted later life, a precious daughter was born. And she continued to grow healthy and to look timelessly beautiful just like his wife. Vittoria was named after her father just as their first born had also been named after him. The age spread between their first and last born was 12 years. The four middle kids in between were as close in age as brothers could be. They joked they had given birth to two sets of Irish twins. They would celebrate their 40th anniversary with a feeling of great accomplishment.
For once Vito left the family business with little in trepidation and headed for home. He felt like a foreigner leaving his children and his business for the first time since he returned to Italy when his parents died. And that was a very a long time ago. Focusing on the upcoming 24 hours of travel, he was thrilled that it was a beautiful sunny day. The curvy suburban roads promised an exciting drive to their secluded home. Once there he would ready himself for what would surely be the trip of a lifetime.
“Be safe Daddy, you and mom be sure to come up on deck once and while! You have to set an example to the young couples on board….. Seriously Daddy, don’t worry about the business, we will take great care of everything. I hope you know that and won’t worry.” Silently and between just them, she said to him, “I know it’s hard for you let go sometimes. But you have my word that we’ll do right by you. I will miss you and Momma, because I won’t be staring at the Caribbean!” She laughed and to her dad, her voice was musical, he didn’t notice the higher pitch of anxiety as she battled with herself about her plans that afternoon. She forwarded herself mentally to the confessional where she’d already asked forgiveness for what amounted to stealing from the family. This compulsion scared her. She could barely respect herself as she looked over her most recent Maserati. She watched the car as if it would spring to life, become her lover and fuck her right with no reserves, right there in (what she viewed as) her showroom. And it was hers. She could sell anything to anyone. She owned her charm good looks and wit with quiet pride.
As soon as her dad left, her brothers had swarmed from all areas of the shop ogling the car like first time Neanderthal teens viewing a seasoned stripper. As she watched them touch her car she again endured to their familiar solitary and imaginative teen wanking moans. As a young girl with a full bladder and weary pounding fist on the bathroom door, once inside, she would inevitably find the car magazine open to a thong clad model sprawled upon the hood of the newest car. She would hesitantly pick up the tainted pages to find herself lusting over the car, not the model. She had fought for every breathe she took with those four. But her brothers had, what she considered to be, an anti feminist view of life. God she hated them when she was younger. On many occasions she can remember them spanking her during her father’s absence for a serious offense. She could still recapture the fury she had for their interference. Now, all but one was married off and she welcomed her sister in laws into her life. The three of them were really sweet and fun. The other one she tolerated for her brother and parent’s sake. Vittoria would ply them with embarrassing stories from childhood about their husbands. There were many Monday mornings when one of them would be pissed off at her for over sharing during one of their shopping trips. She felt it was her duty to seek out revenge, even if it took years to slowly release itself. ‘You will get yours’ was the standard line from her brothers. Yeah, yeah, yeah she thought. I’m not even close to wanting to be married so don’t stay awake exacting your revenge!
Dante changed his mind from Vittoria being the expected obnoxious owner’s daughter to a taunting hot professional woman. Her competence and personal style made up for her connections. He’d been enjoying his bachelorhood and therefore wouldn’t go near her for fear of endangering his job. But as he turned 29 he began to consider settling down. And it was only because of the commitment he’d made to his aging parents not to be a lifelong bachelor like his aged brothers that he even considered her. He was due for a trip back to Provence and had hoped to at least have someone in his life. It was hard to meet women when you spoke with a French accent. Dates had been indicative of an impulsive act on the woman’s part which soon became a chore when American women realized they had little in common growing up. Apparently the clan mentality won out. Topping it off, his political views were backed up from empires in history – not the latest American administration. He constantly fought against the prejudiced views originating in his mind that women in this country wanted a guy who wore “wife beaters” and drank Bud. There were some dark times in the past when he wondered why he had returned after his year as an AFS student.
It had been years since he allowed himself to consider her. Erecting a wall was necessary so as not to compromise his job. But watching her secretly stalk the car like a panther was probably one of the sexiest things he’d seen in years. The last few months he found himself drinking from the water cooler on too many occasions just to catch a few minutes of listening to her voice. She was so damn happy most of the time. What was that about? Genuinely funny; her wit was astounding. She could nail her mouthy brothers in a heartbeat and with such insight. He had to leave the floor on several occasions so that her brothers would be spared some dignity. He found himself starting to like her personality more than he cared to admit.
Dante held back from getting too close to the car she noted. It was a very discreet sexual thing for her. And she guessed without confirmation that it might be the same for Dante. She had watched him through the years. After feeling just a little sad about not having a real family dinner tomorrow, she comforted herself by pouring a cup of stale coffee more out of habit rather than need this late Saturday afternoon. Truth was that she was a jittery pre-criminal who lacked the confidence to believe that no one would find out. Yet the plan was simple. Last shift, reset alarms for lock down, this allowed time to drive car, then set alarms to look normal for tomorrow. What she couldn’t know was that the alarm company would notify Dante of any adjustments to the alarm system with a personal phone call. Dante thought it prudent to stop treating the company like a family owned business. After all, he himself was an outsider. He needed to protect himself from scrutiny if need be. He had heard of family run business nightmares, and he’d not be victim when wisdom and intelligence could prevail. Besides if Vittoria ever impulsively married (Dante could see it coming sooner rather than later) she’d probably bring that idiot on board and who knew what insanity would ensue? So he’d bring things up to modern days. Closed circuit monitoring was coming next week.
Dante knew Vittoria believed she was unreadable. Everyone else thought she was the pristine employee but he had her figured out. He had been observing her cautiously. What changed was last year when her deserved confidence found her shockingly achieving the top associate sales status, or “Top ASS” he kept to himself – the phrase and the accomplishment. Because one, it was redundant her ass was artwork and two her brothers already detested her sole gender status. He had decided she deserved to be reconsidered as his own despite the risks of spending every Sunday dinner with his future children’s idiot “manscaped” uncles. Coming from behind her and out of his office, Dante reached for one of the last available Styrofoam cups. Shaking his head in disbelief, he noted that Vittoria exuded stealth sexuality even while pouring coffee.
“Hey Vittoria, day not going by fast enough? Or are you missing Vito already?” He smiled down on her enjoying her displaced nervousness on a Saturday. Something wasn’t right he could sense it. She had a look he had seen only once during her late teen years, when she had taken Vito’s keys and snuck in with her prom date to use the couch in the back office. Her second oldest brother Anthony had paid Dante $20 to break it up. He caught up with them somewhere before an umpire would have called her date safe at third! It took her eight months before she spoke to him after that.
“Yeah, I miss them already and they’re still in the country.” She tried to push all her anxious emotions onto the orphan ticket. He was the last guy she needed to strike up a conversation with right now. He was the English Mastiff as she said out loud a time or two which pissed him off given how the French loved the English. He roamed the grounds with his financial/accounting and his security measures. His job bored her. But in order to experience a lifetime of pleasure she would have to outwit Dante’s system. It shouldn’t be difficult. It was a closing window of opportunity and she was going to take it. Dante would shit himself, if he knew what she had planned on his watch.
Her mind wandered back to how it would feel to drive it. It wasn’t just the surreal moments when the world went flying passed in visuals too quick to comprehend. It was the sensual lines on the body of the car. It was also the inevitable thrill that went beyond expectation and promised to put a hard smile on her face and rippling sensations in her stomach. Once she’d actually found a wet spot after driving on Alpha! This experience wouldn’t compare. Sipping her coffee she reviewed again in her mind the necessities. A car needed to respond to her gentle and demanding touch. It needed to grind her like silk into the road. The soft leather of the steering wheel cover would give slightly beneath the pressure of her finger tips. The seat had to conform to her petite body and make her feel as if she were the road. Shifting, oh shifting… it was obedience at its finest. The grip on the supple wooden and leather gear shift was like no other potential power. It was Freudian at best. But first she had to know what the car would do, which was why she only drove that which wouldn’t disappoint.
Sensing intangibility, Dante had to stick around for the action. His mind raced through the trouble she could think of getting herself into. And then he knew. He just knew that all the circling, the staring, the intention... Hell it looked as if she wanted to lay the fucking car. And who could blame her. He’d considered laying her in the car. Perhaps on top of the hood was the ultimate solution. If the car was moving at a high rate of speed he could create the mile long club!! He grinned at that visual.
Vittoria happily bid everyone a wonderful weekend. Saturday afternoon had lasted longer than a six minute red light after a double espresso on a full bladder! She was ‘seeing angels’ as she viewed her obnoxious brother’s secretly waxed backs on their way to their cars. It was only Dante who gave her an extra goodbye over his shoulder. He even had the nerve to wink at her! What the hell was up with that? She’d been dying for his attention ever since she began working at their family’s foreign car sales and service. Tonight of all nights, he decided to pay her the extra attention she’d been craving for the last ten years! Men could be such bastards. Dante treated her as if she was behind a glass case. It pissed her off. He obviously knew nothing about being the only women surrounded by Tony Soprano wannabees. She was anything but delicate.
She had just barely finished resetting the alarms to accommodate her plans when she walked to the board to grab the keys. She was playing some rock music trying to soothe herself when totally and unexpectedly she heard an unwanted voice offering up a sweet offer which had thee worst timing ever.
“Hey, I know this is spur of the moment, but I thought maybe you’d like to help me kick off my weekend. I’m not due downtown until nine when a show starts and it looks like you’ve got lots of time to kill too. And to bribe you, I just picked up a special bottle of '01 Latour. I thought we could share the bottle.” And in a negotiating tone he added, “I’ll let you stare at your favorite thing in the showroom while we drink!” Dante’s French accent was an absolute killer and she had to wrap her mind around what he had just said. She’d spent three months backpacking across Europe and almost lost her mind whenever any guy spoke to her. Secondly it was the longest and hottest sentence to ever come out of his mouth and he was talking to her about sharing wine! Granted it was a cheap man’s idea of a date, but the view was unable to be replicated. She found it hot. This day would’ve been perfect except that, the two things she was dying to ride were in the same room at the same time. Planets would collide if it happened simultaneously.
Dante had the bottle uncorked and was pouring the wine before she was finished formulating her lie. He watched her try to act casual about some immediate plans… maybe next Saturday she rattled on a little vulnerable and hopeful… she seemed excited and stressed. This was the first time he had asked her to do anything social. Vito being out of town was the consummate green light, they both knew it. He shook his head feeling no dejection, only the expected behavior of a flattered woman on a previous mission.
Just then Dante got a call. He felt awkward responding to his phone because it was the cliché Batman ring back tone from the alarm company. He hadn’t gotten one of these calls in years. Dante gave her a funny look as he answered the call. He responded with, “Hey thanks a lot; I’m going to check it out right now”. He touched a few buttons on his phone. Vittoria was still reeling from his presence and purpose. She thought nothing of the call. Although she couldn’t let the Batman ring didn’t go without comment.
“So Batman, was that the commissioner or Lord Alfred? Who do you have to save now?” she joked hoping to distract him from her unsure behavior.
While her wit was too quick per usual, the information he had just received was confirmation. He correctly and immediately assumed that she would try to bond with the Maserati before her father’s return and his cameras were installed. She had tried to appear innocent. The problem she had not considered was that he, Dante, was in charge of the showroom. She presumed wrong if she thought she could get anything over on him. He started to chuckle this time a little longer considering the blackmail possibilities.
“I’m pretty sure the Commissioner mentioned your name. Vittoria needs rescuing I heard him say it quite clearly.” He had a slight curl of his lip while he watched her subtly squirm and feign flattery.
She decided to head into the conversation with the obvious forbidden topic. “Well Batman while I’d love to finish this whole glass of wine, I am sorry to inform you that the only thing you will need to save me from is being late for my plans. You must need to find some criminals plotting against Gotham this time of day.” He loved her banter. But he decided to just stare at her until she talked. It always worked. But she was steadfast and calm. Impressive. So he decided to keep her there longer, maybe even long enough for the two of them to hear the audible warning for the new alarm to set again.
“So Vittoria, you’re usually not so quiet, what’s going on in that busy mind of yours on a sunny Saturday? Or are you so surprised by my presence you’re almost speechless?” The problem was Vittoria was very begrudgingly going to get rid of Dante before the alarm wasn’t going to engage as she’d already reset it to 5 pm instead of 4 pm. If he’d suggest they reset it to let themselves out later than closing, she’d be busted. It was already reset. She was trying to think quickly but really saw no way out at this point. She’d calm herself, engage in playful conversation and felt cautiously optimistic the opportunity would present itself.
Dante broke the silence with “Actually I just got a call to meet my friends for dinner and drinks before the show. So I’ll need to get home and get changed but we can at least enjoy one small glass before you have to leave… eh?” He already had the glass up to his lips and was staring at her with his gorgeous green eyes. He had a spooky look of an old very handsome soul. And the voice was so smooth she felt like she’d just finished a massage, she felt so good. Totally caught between pleasant moments she decided to minimally sip her wine and shuffle some papers. But she had to get him out of there. He began the stare-tactic again this time it worked like a charm.
“So Dante, you going to any concerts this summer? I hear the Raconteurs are great, I’m trying to see them.” She could hear her high pitched voice and fast talking. She was going to blow it if she didn’t calm down. She waited for him to answer. But instead Dante starred at her with a smile she couldn’t make out. It was an omniscient stare that made her very unsure of herself and she wasn’t up for that, not now especially when she needed to do some James Bond stuff. Dante insisted on calling her by her full name, not Tori as her family called her.
Pretending to look for her purse she felt uneasy. She’d always felt that she needed to act proper when he called her Vittoria. This wasn’t one of those times. She was trying to pull the fast one of her time. She’d always played by the rules her father had set down. And now she was going to be completely selfish. But she deserved this ride. She had worked hard. Her dad was out of town and out of the way but now Dante was in it. She had 20 minutes to get rid of him and have her ride. It was the ride of a lifetime that she may never have the chance to take, given that she couldn’t afford a car the cost $200,000.
Immediately after the call from the alarm company, Dante had set his phone alarm go off in five minutes. He wanted to see what she was up to. He’d have to watch at a distance. It would be good. He knew that much. He’d seen her in action around clients who had the obvious hots for her and she handled herself like no other. She could leave them without conscience and yet they’d always felt like she had left them with their dignity. He was more than curious to watch her in action. But he’d give her a “get out of jail card” at least until he could catch her red handed. And then he’d have his true plans for her revealed. She’d be left with no resources then. Nothing from her past could leave her standing with her dignity when he was done with her. He now stalked her like she had stalked her precious car. He smiled to himself, sipping his wine. What was her inane question, concerts….? The Raconteurs….?
“I’m trying to hit Matthews, Rush, Seether and Hinder,” he answered with little thought, rattling off some of his favorites.
“That sounds cool. Wow Seether and Hinder. Those are pretty intense bands. I didn’t know you had a total edge with your music.” Dante realized Vittoria didn’t know he had an edge to quite a few things. Music was just one of them. He could picture her sweaty back beneath him as he held her arms spread far from each other just like her legs. She would understand then how “edgy” he could be. He kept his gaze on her as he waited for his phone to ring. He began to cork the wine at the ‘So how’s your family doing? Do you have any plans to get back to France to see anybody? It’s been a few years hasn’t it?’ part of her rambling. Time to go and watch the pre show, he thought with a lyrical tone in his head.
“I’m planning a trip this winter when business will be dead, and then I can take a few weeks off.” He had a low key chuckle to mostly himself as he added, “They’re still waiting for me to return with a wife”. He could picture Vittoria at his side, the dutiful wife of a Frenchman. That would rock the Massarottis who had expected their precious to bring home an Italian boy. He wasn’t sure if he even liked the idea. He had watched her prance unawares through his life for years. Was she what he deserved – Her Daddy’s Italian Princess? God help him. Arguably she had everything any man would want. She had a work ethic that went beyond stellar. She was kind and charming, just not to him. Toward him she was cautious and distant. Her father probably warned her about him years ago and she was bound by cultural pressure to obey. Contrary to her father’s advice, he could see her beautiful body in his bed each night - on the weekends and twice each weekday. He almost… almost felt guilty. Because when he would catch her, she’d be without reserves.
He knew she had previously kept her business and pleasure filled worlds separate. And what were her pleasures now? She was obviously playing with the lighter and the gasoline. He heard quick discussions with a few girlfriends revolve around concerts and tame drinking. Her life was mostly her family. And a dedicated daughter and sister she had been. She was almost too obedient for a 27 year old unmarried young professional woman. He would use her innate compliance to his whims. Keeping her father’s desires for her to be bedded and with children before age 25, had been an impossible goal. She had Dante’s undying admiration for that. He knew from his own family what it was to disappoint. Otherwise he’d be in charge of bottling what he carried under his arm.
Some light chatter ensued. It was benign at best when his phone went off. He feigned a call from a friend who expected his immediate arrival. He could see her shoulder’s relaxing a bit as she anticipated his departure. He begged her indulgence as he left abruptly. She was happily confused as he took his departure. And she shook it off feeling a little high given how close she was to achieving her drive of a lifetime.
He left in his conservative yet powerful Audi. She then quickly opened the double doors, already having swiped down the car keys and keys for the double doors. As she approached the car, she could feel her heart beat like a hummingbird’s. She couldn’t believe she was actually committing her ultimate sin. She had so few minutes to feel her long awaited clandestine pleasure. She coveted the moment as she placed the key in the ignition and listened to the playful purr of an engine that could make her come once she hit the sweet spot of 4 rpms. She carefully adjusted the seat, mirrors, and felt the grip of her seat belt. She looked around her one last time. She was a little sad not to be sharing this with someone she loved. Her excitement was almost uncontainable; she almost felt she needed someone there to calm her, but that was impossible. No witnesses for this - her first crime. She felt a little shaken seeing the Oriental rug without her car on top of it.
She drove it to the parking lot then locked the glass doors behind her with a key. Now it was time to see what He could do for her. She laughed to herself that she personalized the car. Of course it was a male. She’d had the concept ingrained in her that every car was female. She was all about making it work for her tonight. It was still a bit bright out and she wished it were a pitch black night. She carefully turned right and headed for the turnpike. She was shaking as her fingers pressed firmly into the thick steering wheel. She had no traffic to merge with as it was dinner time. It shifted like magic and she could’ve sat on the gear shift with knowing pleasure as she began her ascent into rpm heaven. The curves on the turnpike handled like silk on glass given that she had it up to 80 mph within 15 seconds of being on the turnpike. She was totally getting wet and she smiled, shifted in her seat and readjusted the rear view mirror only because she needed to refocus or she’d slide right off the leather.
She quickly realized that having only 30 minutes with this car was equal to sniffing chocolate truffles. Her cheeks hurt from the constant grin. In the back of her mind she was already dreading driving it back into the showroom. So she began the pleasure of acceleration. No cops insight, it apparently was their dinnertime as well. Even if she’d been nailed speeding no one could’ve caught up to her. Hell they probably couldn’t even ID the car type. Enough smugness, she felt the car begin to open up going 120 mph. Oh God, this was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Even her best sex didn’t broach the excitement she felt right now. OK admittedly she hadn’t had that much sex to compare. The outside world was now a veritable blur. One sixty, one eighty…. She scarcely looked at the speedometer. She was getting scared now, not because she was having trouble controlling the car, but because she wasn’t. Did she dare take it up to 200 mph? Oh yes, she swore she’d cum right there. Maintain. Maintain. Maybe this is what guys had to deal with keeping an erection despite the end of pleasure in sight. Two hundred! She couldn’t fucking believe it - Her in this car!! She had to bring it back to the showroom or she’d be arrested for stealing it. She could go all night. Oh yeah, she almost forgot and multi tasked enough to pop in Queen’s Sheer Heart Attack track number 14 Stone Cold Crazy. And that’s how she felt. As she rounded the curves she felt as if the car was floating. Nothing had ever felt this smooth, this natural. She could picture what it would feel like to have bird’s wings for the first time in her life.
Slowing it down, slower, slower, it hurt to not accelerate. But she kept the happy feeling of the pleasure she had just experienced. She would have to make it last, all of it. The feeling of her ass on the leather felt fantastic given she had worn her thinnest cotton skirt for that purpose. Being naked in this car would be the ultimate driving experience. The way the seat came up and hugged her at the sides felt like she belonged in it. Everywhere she looked and everywhere she touched made her realize how much the car felt like it had been designed specifically for her, Vittoria Marianna Massarotti. She paid her toll and with a heavy yet excited heart, she headed back to the shop.
Looking cautiously around her as she headed south from the turnpike toward the shop, she calmed her breathing and carefully drove it to its temporary home. Its resting place for her eyes until it would be tucked away in some very caring person’s life for pleasure, total, unadulterated, driving pleasure. She wanted more than anything to be that person. Someday, she dreamed. But she knew this was as close as she’d ever come and she was damn lucky to be able to construct the time she had with the car. She left it running as she went to open the double doors with her keys and drive it with precision back onto the oriental carpet. The lock didn’t seem to fly open as it usually did and the frustration left her a little panicked. Working diligently to understand why the keys didn’t work she heard nothing over the engine. But the next sound made her almost throw up on the spot. She turned just in time to see the Maserati driven away. It careened to the left and toward the back of the building. She felt her legs give out on her but she commanded herself to stand while she ran around the front of the shop to catch the fucker circling around the building. She had only seconds and her body to stop what was happening. Was she willing to stand in front of the car to prevent this from happening? If only she packed a gun. Now she’s thinking crazy. She didn’t see or hear the car coming around the other side of the building to drive off the lot (?). Would they guess her next move and then head back out onto the side she had just come from? Maybe they’d wait her out and force her to walk back. Her purse and cell phone were in the car. Nearby businesses were closed. She couldn’t even dial 911. Her whole future depended on keeping that car in the lot. She had never had been so filled with fear in all her life. She went back to the edge of the front of the west side of the building and listened. The engine was being revved up. Her senses grew keen as she’d have to try to run in its path as it escaped with her integrity attached. No she’d already lost that when she decided to take the car for a ride. What the hell was she thinking? She was such an asshole to do this do herself. Don’t beat up on yourself now, she thought as waves of nausea crashed into her. She started to involuntarily gag as she heard the engine shut off. Oh Dear God did he expect her to go back there. What was his plan now? She was frozen in her thoughts. She wouldn’t even dream of what could happen if she had to face this guy around the back of the building. She could end up dead in the dumpster.
The wind was really kicking up now and she had to keep her skirt from rising. Her back was to traffic and she thought how stupid she must look standing there awaiting the move of a car-jacker. She went back to the east side of the building. She thought she heard her cell phone ringing, but it was supposed to be in the car. She kept looking back over her shoulder to the west thinking that he’d sneak up behind her and knock her in the head then take the car off the lot without having to run her down. That’s what he’d have to do because she wasn’t going to fucking back down. She was getting pissed. She ran to her purse which he had left on the ground before driving to the back of the lot, her cell was going off. She’d call 911 and have to deal with her own stupidity later. She feverishly grabbed at her purse. It was Dante’s number. Maybe he was still close by. She stopped all thoughts and suddenly it clicked with her that maybe, dear God she prayed he could help and she wouldn’t have to call the police. But how could she think of herself before his safety. He’d at least have some quick wisdom, because she was out of that when she put the key in the ignition and drove it off the lot.
“Dante I need your help. I’m at the dealership and the car’s being stolen!” Her voice was desperate but calm considering her world was at a crossroads. She whipped her head in all directions while talking so as not to lose a grip on the situation. She started to walk back to the front of the shop. It was the only way out. The breeze really went wild now and she was having trouble listening for any little sounds. She had one hand feverishly trying to control the back of her skirt and the other gripped her phone with a vengeance. The sun was starting to set and she hoped to God Dante could come to her rescue somehow someway. There was a hesitation in his voice and then she started to freak. What if he didn’t know what to do? What if he involved the cops before there was a way to avoid it. She didn’t want her escapades to be public record. She felt completely and utterly ruined. Her family would never think of her in the same way again. She had really put herself in her most potentially vulnerable situation ever. In one fell swoop she could fuck up her job, the relationship with her family, and involve the cops. She always felt impenetrable but now she started to heave a cry. Her hair was tangling around the phone and in her mouth. She felt totally out of control.
“Dante you’ve got to help me!” She demanded it in her extreme voice. She looked at the phone to see “Call ended”. He’d call 911 she told her herself. Everything would be OK she kept restating in mantra style. It was then she heard the car being turned off.
“Oh Shit Oh Shit….” She audibly choked out. Then her cry turned into silence and terror as she heard footsteps on the east side of the building where the double door entrance was located. She ran to hide herself in case someone wanted to shoot her. He saw a guy opening up the double doors with keys… WTF…. it was Dante!
She was raw. She rose immediately hating herself for being so scared. She sat upon the brick window sill bent completely over trying not to throw up, now that she had earned that privilege. Her head rested on her arms, her arms on her knees. She was trying to stop her legs from shaking… no more like ‘bouncing’. They were visibly jumping and her arms then tried to hold them down while supporting her head. It was useless. She covered her face with her hands desperate to hide the expression on her face. Apparently Dante didn’t care about providing himself the pleasure of observation. He had completely opened and propped the doors open. She felt like an unprotected fetus. She startled at his razor sharp “Vittoria!” She looked up in time to see the keys being thrown at her lap. Her reflexes were totally off and she knocked into the keys sending them sprawling on the pavement. Her skirt was flying everywhere and she couldn’t even consider it as she scrambled after them on the sidewalk. She looked up at him with wincing pain. So many emotions flew through her head and played havoc with her body. Guilt, embarrassment, humility and what was that broiling inside her like lava – unexpected uncontrollable FURY never before known to her.
He had set this whole fucking thing up to mess with her. The bastard deserved death! What she did was her business; this was her father’s business, not his. Who the fuck did he think he was? She thought she was going to be in physical danger tonight. She honestly thought she was going to be run over, raped or kidnapped along with the car. No one treated her like that. She would’ve never done anything to him like that. It was wrong. He watched her face like he was watching a good movie. He wasn’t quite sure of the ending, he never had figured out Vittoria, but now he couldn’t believe she had the balls to go from hand caught in the cookie jar to I’m going to kill you in 5.6 seconds.
He actually took a step back and said in a flat and disappointed voice, “Put the car back where you found it”. Dante couldn’t be sure because of the wind, but he was almost certain he heard a deathlike growl of “fuck you”.
She wanted to attack him from the back with a crow bar, it was a bit trailer trashy she could feel it, but it was revenge taking over the powerless feeling she had had not two minutes ago. She was almost done shaking and didn’t need to throw up within seconds. She stormed to the back of the building where she found it backed into a spot; it was between two flatbed tow trucks. The wind whipping up its speed seemed empowering to her. This was the exact time her mind started to work on a dangerous level. She didn’t know what extremes she was capable of, until that moment in time. She looked at her watch as if to, in some way document the moment, and made a choice to mentally snap. She backed the car out and drove it around the west side of the building and off the lot. She shot him the bird and kept driving. Fuck Dante and his bullshit prank. Who did he think he was, oh yeah the little French demi-god? Well let him contemplate what it would be like to learn the alarm would go off with the doors open and the car gone. Let him explain to the cops that he knows exactly where the car is and who has it. Then who’s going to look culpable?
She decided to go buy herself a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of wine and return to the shop for some professional negotiations. Dante could wonder whether or not to call the cops on his boss’s daughter. If he thought he had this little game all work out in his head, then she’d teach him not to fuck with her. Hearing the car pull away spitting gravel was admittedly the last sound he expected to hear. Dante did have to admit to himself that she had thrown him a curve ball. He contemplated calling her cell as he sat there at her desk and poured himself a drink. He let the wine travel through his whole mouth before he let himself swallow. He took several deep breaths and realized his first relevant thought was he was glad tomorrow was Sunday. He didn’t think he could walk back into the building and be focused on work based on what had just happened. What had just happened? He honestly expected some penitent daughter of a patriarchal culture steeped in guilt to grovel. Instead he witnessed traits of some furious wild Irish redhead who would eat her way through her straight jacket only to pick up a gun and shoot herself!
He was amazed at her. He would look back and realize in some sick way, unrepeatable to their descendants, that it was the exact moment when he understood he could love an Italian Princess obviously spawned from the Underworld! He laughed and stretched his legs out on top of her desk. He held the wine glass by the top swirling the wine first left then right, contemplating what to do with her when she returned. He had several ideas. It was a matter of how and where. There were more options if he took her back to his apartment. But first he’d make sure that once the engine cooled down he’d lay her across the top of the hood. And lift her flimsy silk skirt above her waist revealing the lacy thong underneath she’d tried so hard to conceal in the wind. He would make her answer difficult questions as to her motives while in tandem he provided mounting stinging blows that would accumulate to a fiery pitch. He then would let her relax for a moment while he stood over her letting her guess what was next. He would hold her down between her shoulder blades and anytime she seemed to want up, he would smack her until she stopped believing she had the impetus to control him. He knew she would be hoping for a privately arranged release from day’s events – never to be mentioned again. But that would hardly be the case. She may have had that option when she was pushing down her knees and looking utterly pathetic. But the fact burned into his palm that he needed to contemplate yet another adjustment to the alarm system because she was driving around a two hundred thousand dollar car. She felt her fury was justified? He would show her that her anger would reach levels so high that she would actually come crashing down in total humility until finally she would grateful for his ministrations.
Then he would drive them to his home, which was fortunately secluded, for his pleasures that he would find in her tonight. He would take her to the backyard and let her drink some of his best wine under the stars. When he felt that she was relaxed and finished lecturing her on the impropriety of her actions, he would take her to the next stage of learning - indoors. He had a vast array of items that he would take his time introducing to her. He would make her some pasta with clam sauce. More wine would be drunk as she sat on cushions for her virgin bottom, thighs, and hips. There he would expect her to be softened by his previous gentle dinner tones and yet counter-intuitively trusting enough to understand there was more she needed to endure for fucking with what was his – despite her sense of entitlement. By the night’s end she would have given over her rights to acting like a self righteous toddler with a license. She would come to yet another point where she felt relieved to be free from fighting his lessons. It was then he would bring her back outdoors. Laying her in the hammock he would put himself inside her mouth feeling just enough pleasure to continue for the finish. He would tell her to lift her left leg up against his back and hold it there with his left arm. With his right arm he would spank her in a half diaper position. Spanking her the hardest while she sucked on him; she’d take it on both ends until she had no choice. She would obediently switch legs. At which point he’d reach behind him with his other rested arm spanking her all over her ass and lips and thighs. When he thought he’d explode in her mouth he would pull out and standing her up he would lean her face first into the hammock - a semi standing position and precarious angle. There he’d fuck her without prejudice from behind while he pinched her nipples mercilessly. He took a sip of his wine and smiled as her heard the sound of the engine heading into the lot.
First thing Monday morning he would toss tickets to Provence, France on her desk after he and Vito talked. Life was about to become exponentially satisfying.
KayLynn you've done it again!! I can't tell you how much you have helped me with your contributions to Fantasy Friday. Honestly folks, I do encourage her to start her own blog but until she decided to I am MORE that happy to use any stories she is willing to share with Fantasy Friday. Please let her know that we appreciate all the writing she is doing for us. Kaylynn, I hope you know how much your writing and sharing means to me. Thank you again.
Everyone who is willing to write a story is welcomed and encouraged to share it through Fantasy Friday. You can send your story to email@example.com Please feel free to ask any questions you might have about writing for FF. I will answer anything I can.
Everyone who is willing to write a story is welcomed and encouraged to share it through Fantasy Friday. You can send your story to firstname.lastname@example.org Please feel free to ask any questions you might have about writing for FF. I will answer anything I can.