Judy was laying back on the setee reading a bodice-ripper when the door to the motor-home slammed open and Ronnie stomped in.
“God damn Enzo Ferrari.”
That was all he said as he unzipped his fire suit, then pulled the Kevlar undershirt over his head and threw it in the corner.
“Damn those assholes, anyway.”
She didn’t understand – today wasn’t a race day, not even a practice day – all they had to do was make themselves available for the media. If it were anything else she would have been out there next to him, standing by her man so to speak, but he was so well-spoken and so confident she didn’t think she had to do the adoring girlfriend number.
He was trying to work the stiff material over his body – she could see how sweaty he was and it hadn’t even been two hours sitting in a nearly sealed sauna, just standing in the Florida sun and looking cute. She stood and walked behind him and helped him undress.
“It was that jerk from Fox…”
She realized who he had to be talking about.
“Honey, he doesn’t just work for Fox, he’s on Speed Channel, ESPN, and…”
“I know, but it was so damn irritating. He kept talking about the big advantage the factory teams had in a club race like this. He didn’t point out that they were cherry picking, he just said the rest of us looked like crap when the big boys decided to come to town. He was bitching that our cars didn’t even look clean compared to theirs. What am I supposed to do, hire a couple of guys to make it look like a factory ride when it’s hard enough to keep the motor running…”
She worked his suit off, then tapped him on the ass. His compact body, smaller than hers in all dimensions, was tense. She knew what her man needed right now. They could count on an hour or two of interrupted time – he had no commitments that she knew of.
“Come on, I’ll sponge down your back.”
She shed her clothes as she led him back to the shower, smiling a little at his sputtering complaints about how he’d been treated. She soaped up the loofa and ran it across his body, loving his reaction. She took his shoulders, incredibly strong and muscular, and spun him to her, loving the fact that she could. He wiped the water out of his deep brown eyes.
“What have you got on that beautiful mind of yours?”
She barely gave him time to finish the sentence before her lips covered his, her tongue aggressively searching inside him, her hands running up and down his skin, her mind ceaselessly searching for the magic she could find to relax him, to take his mind off the nonsense he’d had to deal with. When you sent your boyfriend off to go negotiate some multi-billion dollar banking deal if you didn’t quite get it right the worst that would happen was that he might come home a little peeved. If she didn’t wrangle his soul correctly, though, she could lose him, forever. She had been with several wives and girlfriends when their man had crashed, and they sat together in an ER waiting room, hoping that the impossible would be possible. It didn’t really matter that their guys did it for fun instead of money – they were just as mangled. Or dead. It didn’t happen often, maybe once a season, but that was enough, a tradition that went back to James Dean and before…
His moans pulled her attention back, and she wrapped herself around his soapy body, loving that he was there today. It was enough. She would invite him inside her, would open her petals for him and tempt him until he couldn’t resist. Happiness at the slippery feelings of skin on skin rolled through her like the clouds before a storm, desire boiling, scarcely able to wait. She jiggled against him, suddenly gasped as she felt him hardening against her, causing a tingle that made her shiver all over. She knew she was losing – she always lost to him – but it was what she wanted. He knew. He always knew. It was some part of being an alpha male, she guessed. He pulled his head back.
“Damn good thing I don’t have anything else to do, you luscious little thing.”
He was probably strong enough to lift her and carry her across the room, but why take the chance on a pulled muscle. She wriggled free and ducked under his arms, giggling, ran out the door towards the bedroom.
“You can’t catch me, you can’t…”
She knew he was quick, but she hadn’t got three steps before his hands were around her and she felt her body scooped off the floor.
The smile was in his voice as he strode across the floor.
“Put me down. You’ll hurt yourself….”
His laugh was in her ears as he dropped her onto the bed, sinking into the plush duvet, her laughter matching his. They were both naked, after all, there wasn’t much more to do but…
Her head snapped back as her nipple was sucked over his bright white teeth, pushing her over the edge.
“Oh my God, you…”
She stopped. He pulled his face off her and looked up.
“You taste like soap.”
She grabbed a pillow next to her and started hitting his head.
“It’s your damn soap. I just rubbed up against you.”
He was laughing so hard he wasn’t holding off her wild swings, Finally he caught her hand and pulled the pillow out of her hand effortlessly. Although there was a slight feeling of frustration she was sure she had pulled him out of his bad mood. He hustled himself up next to her, kissed her passionately.
“Ewww – you don’t taste any better.”
She loved the laughter in his voice.
“That’s just your soap. I’ll have to get rid of the taste for both of us.”
He dove down between her legs before she could finish the sentence and she squeaked as she felt his stubble trail down her tummy, her torso twisting back and forth, sensing irritation on her sensitive skin, but happy he was there, and wanting his touch, his tender, delightful, loving touch. She froze, paralyzed with love as his tongue touched her. She could not hold in the low sensual pleading, her body’s response to him though he had barely started. He could take her so far beyond anything she’d known before she simply had no defenses.
It was less than seconds, tiny parts of seconds, before her body betrayed her – it had to, she knew that – but still it was almost embarrassing when her lover’s tongue was in position to drive her wild and taste her moisture, the acknowledgement that she needed him so badly she couldn’t deny it – even if she wanted to. She didn’t. She arched her back, taut under his touch as the miracle he worked every damn time overtook her and pleasure dribbled up and over her mind. She wanted to remain independent, truly she did, but his touch was…
“Honey. Oh God, my dearest, my beloved, damn, please…”
The words tumbled out as his touch continued. Her eyes were closed, but she couldn’t not look. They snapped open and she realized her hands caressed the top of his head, it was hard not to press him down on her, damn, what had she done to deserve this pleasure, this happiness. She couldn’t hold still but even moving against him she wanted to , oh damn, he ran everything, he… she lost whatever level of control she had and began to whimper for his touch to never end, she hated it when…
“Oh God, God, God, God, God…”
From deep within it came, no stopping it, tearing through her, leaving her screaming no matter how much she wanted him to be the screamer. She’d been more excited and needy than she realized – it had taken him very little time to not just get her ready, but take her over the edge as well. The ending of her pleasure seemed to take forever – slowly her breathing returned to normal, It was a long time before she could even think through how she had got there. Somehow, she had no idea how, he was laying next to her, smiling.
Words failed her beyond that. He just had that delicious smile plastered on his face.
“It was easy. Want me to do it again?”
Her over-sensitive clit formed the answer for her.
“I wish. I probably won’t be able to walk unaided as it is…”
He smiled, his eyes drooping closed.
“Okay – we’ll try it tomorrow.”
She watched as his relaxed body fell into sleep, satisfied that she had, for a few moments at least, gotten him to forget the irritation of his morning.
* * *
She just had on a bikini and a light coverup, humming happily as she covered the car with wax. He was still asleep and she hoped he’d stay that way long enough for her to finish. She knew the work involved in rubbing everything down would leave her muscles sore, but at least their friendly media person wouldn’t be able to fault them for a dirty racecar.
Finally she had everything covered, the light sheen drying as she reached for a microfibre rag. She stopped every few minutes to rub the perspiration off her forehead. It was work, but work she was happy to do, bending back over and rubbing the plastic body panels to a high polish. He probably wouldn’t even notice. She giggled. She could probably have it painted a different color and he wouldn’t notice that either, but then, he was funny that way. He seldom noticed if she changed her hair unless she prompted him, but he could tell her exactly what she was doing on the pit wall every time he came by – standing, chatting with Midge, sipping a soda. His eye for detail as he flew by at well over a hundred miles an hour was unbelievable.
She put away everything and leaned back in the chair, enjoying the beer and the air as it cooled down. She heard the door slam behind her and abruptly his fingers rubbed the back of her neck. She smiled, enjoyed his presence. She wanted to tell him what she’d done, but more she wanted him to notice. He sat in the other chair, both of them watching the parade of drivers, wives, and spectators walking by.
“Hey, it’s nice out here. Thanks for … well, relaxing me and letting me sleep. I feel much better. I shouldn’t let those guys get to me.”
She looked over at him.
“No, you probably shouldn’t. And I’m glad you relaxed.”
* * *
He was never nervous before a race. More like focused. She knew not to say much other than give him a peck on the cheek as he finished pulling all the fireproof stuff on. He gave her a brief smile as he stood, holding the rest of his gear.
She nodded. It was their ritual.
“You watch you too.”
She blew him a kiss, then followed along carrying her little tote with everything she needed on the pit wall. They didn’t have any comm gear, and at his level they didn’t really have a pit crew. His friend Matt helped out, in fact had warmed up the car and moved it out to the grid area. They walked together, hand in hand. They passed the big professional transporters the factory guys had – only two of them. She felt his hand tense.
Matt stood next to the car, a grin on his face.
“All ready to go. Get out there and kick ass.”
Ronnie looked around.
“Do I get to take names too?”
“That part’s optional. It was me, I’d stick to kickin’ ass, but that’s just me.”
She laughed. The two of them had done their act as long as she’d known him. Them, actually.
There was always a time when everybody was ready but it wasn’t time to do anything. She leaned on the car, or occasionally walked over to Midge and chatted. The guys stood in little clusters, most of them, talking in voices much too loud, blowing off steam, waiting for someone to walk down the line and give them the signal. Her tummy was in knots, and she was sure that she was much more nervous that he was – there wasn’t anything she could do but wait along with them. This was always the hardest part for her. Finally an engine turned over then settled into the loud rumble. Someone at the head of the line had already gotten the word. She looked up and the official walked down the line, holding his clipboard.
She kissed Ronnie – once he was all wrapped up there wasn’t much skin available to kiss. He pulled, zipped, hooked, and tied eveything in place, gave her and Matt a thumbs up, and swung into the low car. Matt reached in and checked his safety belts, hooked the safety line to his helmet, and banged him on the head.
“Go get ‘em tiger.”
He yelled to be heard over the engine. They all drifted off to the pit wall when the official gave them the five minute warning. She stood next to Matt on the low wall, watching, crossing her fingers that nothing would go wrong.
The start of a race is always exciting, any race, but when you have someone in the game it’s even more so. In his class the engines ran a lot of power, were noisy in a low pitched, throaty kind of way, and when they left as a group they were deafening. He seemed to be doing well as they disappeared but she was never sure until they came roaring by on the first lap. Matt had a stopwatch out and was timing him, looking up then down.
“Red Flag. Red Flag.”
There was an urgency in the PA announcers voice. She and Matt turned together and watched as the starter put down the green flag and started waving the red one frantically, though there was no one coming. An official truck started down the racecourse, followed seconds later by the ambulance. Time stretched out in her mind. There couldn’t be anything wrong with him. Ronnie was good, and he was careful.
An official carrying a radio walked down the line to her and Matt. The feeling of dread settled on her.
He read the sheet again, his eyes narrowing in concentration. She recognized it. It was the entry form.
“Ronnie’s OK, we think he broke his arm, but we’ll have him in here in a few minutes. We’re sending him to the hospital to get it set. Are you all right, Ma’am?”
She put her hand put to steady herself. She couldn’t speak, just bobbed her head again. Matt grabbed her hand and squeezed.
“He’s OK. I’m not gonna tell you not to worry, but he’s OK.”
She turned and wrapped her arms around him, put her head on his chest. He was so different from Ronnie – Matt was so big she thought of him as a gorilla. She couldn’t help herself, tears started down her cheeks. The next ten minutes were the longest in her life. Finally the caravan – two trucks and the ambulance – came back the way they’d left, the wrong way, slowly, all of them with lights flashing. She ran toward the ambulance followed closely by Matt. One of the officials walked to the back and had the door open as she reached for it. Ronnie was stretched out, sitting partly upright, no tubes or blood, thank God, just cardboard wrapped around his left arm. The EMT motioned her in, and she climbed up and knelt next to Ronnie, her hands shaking as she bent over to kiss his cheek. She realized he was talking to Matt, standing outside.
“Well, that’s an eighty-five thousand dollar pile of junk. Damndest thing happened. Just coming into turn four, that left hand sweeper, and right where you come uphill the sun hit me – you know, I don’t recall it ever being like that before, but it reflected off the hood right into my eyes, I couldn’t see a damn thing, that hood had such a shine…”