EroticLiteracy
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jun 27, 2017
- Posts
- 1,085
The music called to him.
Not the sound of the thumping bass that echoed through the large industrial size garage, not the banging that some of more rowdy participants were partaking in, and not even the gyrating bodies of women in tight barely there clothing that danced with each other.
No…. there was only one thing Clifford “Cliff” Devo was interested in.
The cars.
The purr of their engines rumbling was music to his ears. Each of them had a distinct sound from a soft whisper to a loud growling rumble. All of them purred for him vying for dominance over the ridiculous music in the cavernous space.
“Oh great Cliff’s doing that whole space out thing again” Came a voice to Cliffs right.
Cliff turned to see his two friends Ronnie and Sam watching him. To say those two were polar opposites would be an understatement. Ronnie was a bear of a man all broad shouldered and American hair and an all-American smile to match. Sam was the opposite with rich ebony colored skin piercing and a serious fuck off vibe. It amazed Cliff that the two of them could argue the way they did and still be so passionately in love. One thing they always seemed to agree on was him mostly on how to bust his chops.
“Cliff can still hear you” He said his rich Irish brogue wrapping around every word as he turned back to them. He raised one slightly bushy eyebrow at them his muscular arms crossing as they both laughed.
“Now he can hear us” Sam said snorting and giving Ronnie a peck on his cheek.
“If your done drooling over cars perhaps you’d like to do some actual racing?” Ronnie remarked pointing at his black truck and the hitch attached to it.
“I was born ready” Cliff said running a hand through long black hair. He moved over to the hitch climbing on top of it and gasping the gray tarp draped over one solid year of hard work. It was hard to believe just a year ago he made it back to the states and reconnected with Ronnie and Sam, it was hard to believe a year ago he had nothing but a hundred dollar to his name and a simple part list, it was hard to believe he was here now having put in the hard work and earning the money that got him his first true car.
His pa and ma back home in Ireland were unaware of what he was doing. They thought he just fell in love with his mother’s native country and wanted to go back. They supported him in that sense but if they knew what he was doing in America his two military strict parents would surely blow a gasket. They understood his obsession with cars to a point…
But never racing
“Lets get this show on the road Lacey” Cliff murmured his strong calloused hands pulling at the sheet and tugging it off the frame of his car. The sheet fell off revealing a slate gray Honda SR2000 with blue racing stripes and trim. He felt a burst of pride run through his body as he admired the racing car he and his friends built with their own two hands.
“Lets pull her out” Sam said jumping onto the hitch and gesturing for Cliff to help her. He shook himself out of memory lane and worked with her getting the car off of the hitch and onto the concrete.
“We’ll make sure she is good to go” Ronnie said coming over and opening the hood up “You go buy your way in”
Cliff nodded grasping his black racing jacket and tugging it over his simple white T shirt as he moved to the front of the warehouse. The broker for the underground races would be there as well as the representatives from the Bardellino crime family. In Los Angeles if you wanted to race there was only one way to do it and that was through the crime family. They cornered the market on gambling and races and had grown even more powerful since he was gone.
He reached the front booth and after being starred down by a burly thug with muscles bigger than his fished out a small envelope of cash. In it was everything his friends and he saved up to buy into the races. If they were lucky they would walk out with double what they brought in.
It all rode on him.
“I’d like to register for the next race” Cliff said turning to the white board with the racers name.
“Whoever is next” He said trying to find the name as the thug counted his entry money.
Not the sound of the thumping bass that echoed through the large industrial size garage, not the banging that some of more rowdy participants were partaking in, and not even the gyrating bodies of women in tight barely there clothing that danced with each other.
No…. there was only one thing Clifford “Cliff” Devo was interested in.
The cars.
The purr of their engines rumbling was music to his ears. Each of them had a distinct sound from a soft whisper to a loud growling rumble. All of them purred for him vying for dominance over the ridiculous music in the cavernous space.
“Oh great Cliff’s doing that whole space out thing again” Came a voice to Cliffs right.
Cliff turned to see his two friends Ronnie and Sam watching him. To say those two were polar opposites would be an understatement. Ronnie was a bear of a man all broad shouldered and American hair and an all-American smile to match. Sam was the opposite with rich ebony colored skin piercing and a serious fuck off vibe. It amazed Cliff that the two of them could argue the way they did and still be so passionately in love. One thing they always seemed to agree on was him mostly on how to bust his chops.
“Cliff can still hear you” He said his rich Irish brogue wrapping around every word as he turned back to them. He raised one slightly bushy eyebrow at them his muscular arms crossing as they both laughed.
“Now he can hear us” Sam said snorting and giving Ronnie a peck on his cheek.
“If your done drooling over cars perhaps you’d like to do some actual racing?” Ronnie remarked pointing at his black truck and the hitch attached to it.
“I was born ready” Cliff said running a hand through long black hair. He moved over to the hitch climbing on top of it and gasping the gray tarp draped over one solid year of hard work. It was hard to believe just a year ago he made it back to the states and reconnected with Ronnie and Sam, it was hard to believe a year ago he had nothing but a hundred dollar to his name and a simple part list, it was hard to believe he was here now having put in the hard work and earning the money that got him his first true car.
His pa and ma back home in Ireland were unaware of what he was doing. They thought he just fell in love with his mother’s native country and wanted to go back. They supported him in that sense but if they knew what he was doing in America his two military strict parents would surely blow a gasket. They understood his obsession with cars to a point…
But never racing
“Lets get this show on the road Lacey” Cliff murmured his strong calloused hands pulling at the sheet and tugging it off the frame of his car. The sheet fell off revealing a slate gray Honda SR2000 with blue racing stripes and trim. He felt a burst of pride run through his body as he admired the racing car he and his friends built with their own two hands.
“Lets pull her out” Sam said jumping onto the hitch and gesturing for Cliff to help her. He shook himself out of memory lane and worked with her getting the car off of the hitch and onto the concrete.
“We’ll make sure she is good to go” Ronnie said coming over and opening the hood up “You go buy your way in”
Cliff nodded grasping his black racing jacket and tugging it over his simple white T shirt as he moved to the front of the warehouse. The broker for the underground races would be there as well as the representatives from the Bardellino crime family. In Los Angeles if you wanted to race there was only one way to do it and that was through the crime family. They cornered the market on gambling and races and had grown even more powerful since he was gone.
He reached the front booth and after being starred down by a burly thug with muscles bigger than his fished out a small envelope of cash. In it was everything his friends and he saved up to buy into the races. If they were lucky they would walk out with double what they brought in.
It all rode on him.
“I’d like to register for the next race” Cliff said turning to the white board with the racers name.
“Whoever is next” He said trying to find the name as the thug counted his entry money.