The STANG Part 8

Chapter 8


“Sick and perverted always appeals to me.”

—Madonna


As if my knees weren’t weak enough already, those words from my bestie snatched them right out from under me.
 
“Cops want us? Shit fire and save the matches! I’m with the Stang’s suggestion, hon.”
 
“I’m with you on that, Sista.”
 
“I’m super scared, H. Christ on a crucifix, what the hell are we gunna to do?”
 
“Listen, we know we put Ben in the trunk and then he’s gone, right? Were we wrong thinking his ass was dead? What if he weren’t, and he just got out and ran? If so, he’ll turn up eventually, most likely thinkin’ he was either the luckiest swingin' dick in the world for having met us, or thankin’ his lucky stars he got away. Either way, Mist, we were up front. Fuck them.”
 
“Heather Marie James, you know damn good and well what really happened. We both do. This car is what happened to him. It’s what’s happening to us. I need a damn drink. I can’t fucking think straight.”

We got out of the Stang and wobbled our way back inside the house.
 
“This damn car has us by the balls, Mist. Frog on a fritter, girl! Have you ever been fucked like that? Ever? What do you think sex will be like for us after this? After having perfection? Think about it.”
 
I went to the fridge and grabbed us a couple’a Dixie's. All of a sudden I was thirstier than a cottonmouth eatin’ cornbread. I popped the caps and brought one over to Heather. We looked at each other. We looked at the garage door…
 
We went to the bedroom and stuffed Heather’s sexiest clothes into a couple’a bags, along with some undies and what toiletries we could think of. It was a godsend that H and I were about the same size. After that, we went back to our Stang; our delicious, precious, wonderful, soft-top Mustang Mach 1. Our master.
 
Once back in the Stang, our minds became as clear as a trout pond in a noon summer. No hebbie-jebbies, no second guesses. We were takin’ our asses out of this equation. We gave in, and gave ourselves to whatever this car wanted. Master and mistresses, that’s what it was, and let the cards fall as they may. Yeah, okay, it’s a bit fucked, but Lord Savior on a barbeque skewer, people, imagine the intensity of the most incredible, indescribable sex ya’ll have ever experience. That damn car had us hook, line, and sinker, believe dat!
 
Sitting in the Stang again, H slipped the key in the ignition and turned it. It purred to life again. Jesus, this was one sexy-ass car. I reached up and rubbed my hand lovingly across the dash.
 
“Yeah, sugga, we yo’ bitches now. No sense actin’ like we ain't.”
 
“Dang it feels good, don’t it? Just sitting here an’ giving in to what we want? No fear, no regrets, right, Mist?”
 
“Fuckin’ right, H. Put us in the wind, girlfriend. I want to feel the air on my face and let the road soothe my soul.”
 
She placed the car in reverse and we backed into the street.
 
****
 
Bitch was thirsty. We pulled into a gas station. Nothing around this lil’ ol’ place, and I mean nothin’: woods, tall pines, oaks with moss hanging from the limbs, and roads in all four directions, makin’ us free to choose. No one around. Perfect, with only a lil’ ol’ man inside. Dawn was looming as I got out to pump the gas.
 
“I got to pee, sugga, ya got this?”
 
“Got it, girl.”
 
I went in, layed a fifty on the counter, and said, “Fillin’ her up, gorgeous.”
 
“Okay, lil’ lady.”
 
Back at the Stang, I flipped the switch on the pump and hit the premium button. “Nothin’ but the best for you, sugga pie,” I said, stroking the side of the Stang.
 
The radio was playing Etta James again: I Just Wanna Make Love to You. This was fast becoming our theme song.
 
A truck pulled up on the other side of the pump, and out stepped this super-hot lookin,’ muscle-strapped mannequin. I smiled and gave him a wink. He smiled back. For all the years I‘ve lived as practically a virgin, I never realized how dang easy it was to go fishin.’
 
He was a young, rugged-lookin’ welder, judgin’ by the looks of the gear in the bed of his truck. He stepped past the pump, right beside me, and that’s when I felt the pull; the heat, starting between my legs. I knew what the Stang wanted me to do. His eyes locked on mine, and before I knew it, it was on. Dang was it on!
 
I tried to fight it. I mean, I really frickin’ did, but it was like the most powerful drug you can imagine. I was helpless.

We came together in a clash beside the Stang; just like you see in the movies, only better. This was real, and happening right here, right now. We fell into the Stang, completely overcome by the throes of intensity.
 
Clothes were an encumbrance we neither needed nor wanted, so we started tearing them off each other. The intoxication of the Stang had us both enveloped in complete rapture.
 
We devoured each other. His hands and mouth were like electricity all over me.
 
If he was sweated-up from work, I sure as hell didn’t notice. He tasted delicious. I sampled his lips, his neck, his hard nipples, my mouth and tongue sliding lower, searching for treasure. He was so hard and ready. I teased him with tiny, snake-like licks of my tongue across the tip of his long shaft, then took him in my mouth. Oh, my, god, he was like rhubarb pie at a Sunday picnic!
 
I climbed up on top of him and slid into the saddle. His fingers dug into my ass as I rode him like a stallion at the Kentucky Derby. My hips were rocking, my hands were on the rag top for balance, my head was back and eyes were closed as the Stang brought us both close to the pulsating end we both craved.
 
With a moment of clarity that came from I don’t know where, I blinked out of my spell. I wanted to watch him as he made that final push, see his face when he exploded. I looked down at him in the throes of sex.

He was panting hard and whispering something to himself; prol’y talking to his girlfriend in his mind. I didn’t give a shit at this point. Mother Mary bobbin’ for apples!
 
“Cum for me baby,” I said. “Cum for me! That’s it sugga! Give it to me… oh yeah!”
 
I watched his already-glazed eyes fill with lil’ amber sparks, firing off in his pupils as he reached his climax.
 
When I finally came out of the grip of the Stang, I was beside this stranger with Heather staring at me through the window.
 
“Fuck me on a scarecrow stick, Mist! You were supposed to pump GAS, girlfriend, just the GAS! Fuck a tent pole, Scarlett! I go for a piss and come back to find ya’ here pumpin’ sumthin’ else?” Heather had that shit-eatin’ look on her face again. She was laughin’ inside, I could tell.
 
“Shit! God dammit, I don’t— Shit!” I scrambled for my clothes. “Check him H. Oh, please, lord, pleeeease let him be alive!”
 
One look at Heather’s face told me my plea was not heard. I cried out.
 
“Fuck me silly with a handy billy! Now what!?”
 
“Give me his keys and I’ll pull his truck out from the pumps. We’ll go down the road and put him in the trunk.”

 
At that moment, the GPS came on again, showing the same place it had before, in Louisiana, on Hwy 51, north of New Orleans. An unincorporated area with absolutely nothing else around it except bayou and road.
 
The radio came on all of a sudden:  AC/DC: Highway to Hell.
 
Fuck me if that weren’t the truth…