Monday Afternoons (closed for Pink Silk Glove)

Mark Johnston parked his 350 pickup in his drive and immediately went into his garage. The interior was immaculate, smooth concrete floor, bright lights, wall of tool boxes, a small machine shop, a fridge, flat screen, couch, a man cave really. His private area, and Monday afternoons were his private time. His wife was at work, his kids at school, and he left the main shop in the hands of his right hand man and pit crew chief, Ralph.

On stands, no wheels or tires mounted was his race car. They called them 'midgets' and really they were an anachronism. No wings, front engine, rear wheel drive. And right now missing the suspension on the right front corner where he'd been pushed into the wall on the last lap of the feature Saturday night. Someone was going for a big ride the next time they were close on the track. But meantime this had to be fixed.

Soon he was busy making notes for Ralph. Parts to order, things to check. An image passed through his mind - Daniela Carmona - the kid next door. She had been coming home from school just as he was driving in and had smiled and waved calling to him. He had noticed a little clench in his groin when he looked at her. How fast they grow up he thought. Shook his head, driving the thoughts from his mind before they even formed. After about an hour and a half of carefully going over the car he decided it was enough, and got a beer from the fridge and settled in to watch the his pvr recording of the NASCAR race that ran while he was getting bunted around on the local short track.

The Carmonas and the Johnstons had lived next door to each other for the past six years. Their neighborhood was not the slums but neither was it the high rent district. The houses there were older. Her own had a couple of cracks in the stucco, certainly could have used some painting, and bits of junk here and there needed to be picked up before the lawn could be tamed with a mower. The Johnston's house next door would have been built at the same time but appeared tidier and much more cared for. Just as she was about to turn into the driveway she saw Mr Johsnton's truck come down the street towards her. Daniela slowed the pace of her steps as he turned into his own yard, the two driveways running side by side and separated by a fence that came to her chest. Ascending the small step to the side door she paused strategically as the truck rolled to a halt, the engine cut and Mr Johnston stepped out. Their families didn't interact much. Her parents couldn't be bothered with such outwardly social behaviors or friendly neighborliness, although there was certainly no acrimony. Mark was clean cut and neatly dressed in an open collared shirt as his running shoes planted upon the black asphalt. He usually seemed to be despite the fact that he was a mechanic. He ran his own business. A wave of nerves struck Danie as she realized that she was dressed down after school, in loose jeans and sneakers. Her comfy but well-worn faded jean jacket sat light over her rattiest pink boatneck sweater and her elbow length blonde hair hung down pulled through the back of her Yankees ball cap a bit too frizzy for her tastes. It was a bad hair day. In a sleepy rush that morning she had even foregone any makeup.

"Hi," she said softly with a quick nervous wiggle of her fingertips.

He returned the smile with his warm blue eyes but not much more before he strode with purpose to the side of his garage, entered and clicked the door shut behind him. Dad had his own garage where he tinkered too but it was nothing like Mr Johnston's. Dad's was full of greasy junk, machinery half taken apart never to be put back in working order. In the few times that Danie had managed a glimpse inside, in was clear that Mark was meticulous and precise by how spotless everything was kept. Sometimes on weekends he would back a trailer in and take his race car out to the track. She remembered the previous summer witnessing him load it up. It was shiny and brightly painted. Then it came back on Sunday night covered in spattery brown dirt.

Mrs Johnston was so lucky to have such a capable and put together man in her life - and pretty handsome too, slender even if not overly tall with his sandy brown hair and smooth face. She thought her twinge of jealousy (as slight as it was) rather silly and sensing the distinct notion that she had always garnered that he was locked away into his private space, she went into her own house and shut the door behind her.

The race had settled into the usual econo tire saving mid phase, nothing really happening except a wreck now and again if a tire was pushed too far or something broke. Mark could care less about the replays, he had seen enough of that from inside the car. His mind wandered and for no reason he could think of, an image of Daniela came to his mind. He wondered if the guys at her school found her attractive. She had the sheen of youth, no one would call her pretty in the 'cheerleader' sense of the word, but there was something about her. Certainly not her chest - her breasts were always well disguised the way she dressed, he suspected there wasn't much there. Nice legs if a bit on the heavy side, in the style of a figure skater's thighs. full curves below her waist. But her hair, if a guy were into hair, was beautiful. Long blonde and it looked like silk, fine silk. She had said hi a few minutes ago, and he realized he had been distracted, and more or less dismissed her. Had she wanted something?

Her parents really wern't much at parenting he thought. Left her to herself far too often. He looked around his shop and thought for a bit. There must be something. In fact there was something. It would give her a chance to talk. or not. Mark dug out his cell phone and found her under his contacts, they had exchanged numbers a while back so he could be emergency contact for her if (as was often the case) her parents were away.

Text: Its Mr. Johnston. Could you come over to my garage for a few minutes? I need help, someone to operate the pedals and controls in my car while I see if I can find a problem with the brakes. If you can, just come in the side door.

Content that if she did want to talk or just be with someone, he had done what he could. And another car went into the wall. Usual replays from all angles. Driver's given credit by the announcers for brilliant moves that were obviously plain good luck. He was watching for the overall strategy being played by the better teams. It was always a matter of luck, but some always seemed to be luckier than others. It was a puzzle.

In the shower, Danie pumped some soap into her palm and began to wash herself. She always did this after washing her hair first and then working in the conditioner to let it set. Her skin was pale and her small nipples were pink as her soapy hands ran over them. Her breasts themselves were slight, just two modest palmfuls. Then moving downward her hands traced over the pink indents around her waist where her belt had held up her jeans most of the day. Below that was the dark gold triangle of her bush between somewhat fleshy thighs and flaring hips. This was the part of her that she was most self conscious of.

Once out of the shower and wrapped it a towel, the mirror was fogged but it was not required for combing so she set to the strands, tugging out the length to just past her elbow. She contemplated a trim. With the aid of the conditioner the tangles came out rather easily. Finishing up, she tossed it all back and teased it with her fingers. When she returned to her room she noticed the tiny green blinking light on her phone. She read the message, puzzled as if it needed deciphering.

"Its Mr. Johnston. Could you come over to my garage for a few minutes? I need help, someone to operate the pedals and controls in my car while I see if I can find a problem with the brakes. If you can, just come in the side door."

Mr Johnston wanted to see her? Now? About the race car that was always kept tucked away? An excitement grew within her that caused a panic when she saw that the message was twenty-two minutes old.

"Sorry i missed this, i was in the shower, do you still need me"

Danie quickly hit send then hastily began to blowdry her hair. As she did this she had to figure out what to wear. The question did occur to her as why it should matter but in her little frenzy she dismissed it. She thought about a skirt but if he wanted her to sit in the car it might be awkward, so she opted for jeans, newer bluer tighter ones than she had been in earlier. Danie slipped into pink cotton panties and worked her thighs into the jeans, cinching them with a studded belt. Moving back to the dresser drawer she realized that she didn't have a matching pink bra, as if Mr Johnston would ever be seeing it. Again it felt silly that it mattered. With no time to change her panties, she just pulled a flesh colored one over her shoulders and around her chest. Next she needed a top. In the next drawer down she flipped through a few afraid to rush her choice. Finally she took the powder blue piece with a soft floral pattern, it's loose fit draping down her chest and arms. The shoulders were open and the neckline was trimmed with the same white lace that formed the straps. Then she threw her hair into a ponytail with a tuft hanging down her forehead. It was still a bit damp. Her mind went back and forth whether she needed a jacket or not. She decided to take her black satin gangsta jacket with the white sleeves and snaps and striped cuffs. Danie pulled it around her shoulders and slid her arms into the sleeves.

"Coming now" she texted, then slipped into her running shoes without socks and bounded out the door. Down the driveway and around the end of the fence with hurried steps she went down the side of Mr Johnston's garage.

"Hello?" she pushed her head timidly through the door hoping that she wouldn't disappoint.

Reading her text he put a book mark on the PVR, and shut it down with the TV. Glanced in a little inspection mirror to be sure his hair was ok, and realized it was a reflex. 'Silly man' he thought, but checked his chinos were clean, shirt looked good. Then he heard her voice, and called "Come in, come in."

"As you can see we got bit by the wall Saturday night. The right front corner is gone" Bent suspension hung down on the car at the front.

"So, Id like you to climb in the car and operate some of the controls so I can check if they were damaged. Let me get the steering wheel off so its easier to get in."

Mark popped off the steering wheel and pulled a box up beside the car for her to step on to get in. He offered his hand, which she took, and showed her how to step in the center of the seat, first one, then the other foot. "Now hold here, and here." He guided her hands, noticing how soft they were, such a contrast to his, big and roughened from manual work in his shop.

"Just take your weight on your arms, and slide your legs under, let your butt down onto the seat." Awkwardly she plopped down, but her jeans had made a clear outline of her sex for moment. Embarassed, Mark reached down to get the seat belts out of her way, "Just lift up a moment" and slid them out from under her. His head looking straight down at her crotch. 'Those jeans sure are tight' he thought to himself. He quickly turned away.

"I'll just get you a cushion for your back, you arn't as tall as me" He scooped up one of the throw cusions on the couch, and forced his mind to think about a cold shower to try to quell things before she noticed. Back at the car he asked her to lean forward and slipped a thick cushion behind her back.

"To put the steering wheel on you pull on this ring and slide the hub onto the spines there. Hey! You are a natural!"

"Now feel around with your feet until you find the two pedals. The clutch is that lever on the gear shift - thats right that shaft sticking up beside you, just wrap your fingers around it and squeeze."

Immediately an image flooded into his mind as her fingers wrapped around. Desperately he tried to divert his mind to the car.

"I'll just get underneath the car and you work things when I ask, OK?" Quickly he slid under the car, relieved she couldn't see him.

The car gleamed white with thick vivid blue and orange striping and lots of colorful decals. Danie had seen it a few times but never up this close and intimate. She had always sensed that it was his private restricted area more than the garage itself for (as far as she thought that she was just beginning to understand) that merely existed for the purpose of the car, and she had always tried to respect that. Danie had just been invited into his inner world. Even with the wheels removed and the bent bits of metal on the front right corner it seemed an intricate piece of machinery built for direct purpose. Closing the door softly behind her, Danie's breath began to calm.

"So, Id like you to climb in the car and operate some of the controls so I can check if they were damaged."

There was a detailed procedure for just climbing into the thing. The steering wheel actually had to come off and she had to step in and lower herself down, with his help of course. When he took her hands in his own to guide her there was a sweetness in his touch. She felt as if she were in his acute care and the feeling expanded in her chest transforming to butterflies as he cleared away the belts brought her a cushion and replaced the steering wheel. When he showed her the pedals and the gear shift she kept her hands and feet ready, diligently awaiting his instruction as he crawled beneath the vehicle. She didn't want to let him down.

"Okay, Mr Johnston," she said. "I'm ready."

Suddenly she felt a pang of nerves when it occurred to her that this might be dangerous. What would she do if the car fell of the jacks?

"Press down the clutch?"

After watching a moment, he crawled back out, and looked down at the pedals, and her feet. Frowned.

"Press down the clutch?" Watching, he smiled, "Of course, I didn't think how much taller I am than you."

Mark went to the couch and returned with two throw cushions. His hand gently on her shoulder, "Here, scoot forwards." Then he tucked the cushions behind her. "There, try again." Watching something at the back of the car. "Yes, that's good."

"I had better show you the gear pattern. Here, put your hand on the gear shift." Unlike most road automobiles the shift lever stuck up the side of the car, inside. The hand grip was about two inches diameter, and cylindrical with a smooth rounded top. Maybe six inches long. It was meant to be comfortable over 100s of shifts needed during a race. A red button was on the top.

Once her hand was in place, he put his over it, gently. Immediately he noticed the smoothness of her skin.

"It's a double H pattern, spring loaded to the 3-4 slot. Press the clutch down. Now forwards without moving sideways." He guided her hand as the lever selected 3rd gear. "Now pull back, no sideways motion." It slid into 4th. "Perfect!"

"Now press to your left, you feel a resistance, then it moves to the 1-2 slot. Same thing, forward for one, and pull back for two, always pressing to the left." Each movement was guided with his hand over hers. Since he was leaning across her, he had to be careful his arm didn't brush her chest. Once it grazed. Embarrassed, he ignored it and was thankful she ignored it too. Or so it seemed.

"Here is the problem - other way, to your right, the 5-6 slot."

"That's it! Push past the resistance, but now try forward. See? Its tight. It doesn't want to go in."

This time before he got under the car he grabbed the roll bar and shook the car hard, testing that the jack stands would hold it safely.

In his head he was noticing a slight scent from her - very nice, maybe her shampoo? Under the car, he called out "Try for 5? No? Wait I think I see the problem"

Mark scampered out, got an aerosol can, and shot some lubricant on a coupling. "Ok, try again? HEY! That's it! A little lubricant and it goes right in. Let me wash my hands and I'll help you out of the car, that's great."

The whole garage was remarkably clean, not only the walls but the floor as well. She never thought a garage floor could be or even needed to be so nearly spotless.

Soon Mark's first instruction came from beneath the car to press the clutch. Stretching her toes, Danie struggled to depress it a few inches. Then he popped up from under the car, leaned on the edge of the cockpit and peered in at her running shoes as he asked her to repeat. She had done it wrong. Fresh sweat broke beneath her arms.

Mark left a moment and returned to put cushions behind her. He was touching her again, giving her more sweet chills. Then he moved to the rear of the car and she tried the clutch again, this time to his approval. She had gained a reprieve and was glad to do something right. Danie had no idea how the back of the car would reveal the diagnosis but then he knew the machine. He knew how everything worked. He didn't just drive the thing, he kept it all together with knowledge to go with his physical abilities. Mark became all the more exceptional in her eyes as she learned about his world.

"Here, put your hand on the gear shift."

Reaching across her, he was in her space. He took total control which stirred a fluttering in her chest. Mark put his hand over hers atop the smooth knob of the stick shift. His touch was clean and warm and nearly took her breath away. As he guided her hand through the gears, she felt the mechanics of the car physically moving and clicking around her. It felt surreal and real at the same time. It was fascinating. Then his elbow brushed her chest. Even through her satin jaket she could feel it press into her top to brush against her skin just above the edge of the left cup of bra. Carefully, Danie had to pace the rate of her exhalation.

When he withdrew himself from the cockpit she caught her breath. Then he grasped the machine and gave the whole car a shake, testing its safety. The chassis felt solid around her but still, it was a race car. Accidents happen and she was his passenger. She was along for the ride.

Soon he had slipped himself under the car again and called out the instructions. Pushing the clutch in, she attempted to re-engage fifth gear as he had showed her, hoping that she had found the right one. Immediately he called a halt to the proceedings and climbed back to his feet to disappear to the workbench behind her. She had done something wrong again. The little mirror to her right was framed in glossy orange paint. In it she spied his trim form from behind, the subtle trapezoid of his shoulders and back, his fit buttocks in his pants, briefly as he made his selection. When he turned back around, her eyes shot from the mirror to the steering wheel before her, scared that she had been caught.

Mark ducked back down under the car once more and instructed her to try fifth again. She heard the hissing of the spray and then the shifter moved easily, clicking into place. The problem was apparently solved and Mark was soon back on his feet. Danie took her hands from the wheel and placed them nervously in her lap, sitting still while he disappeared to wash his hands. She could hear the water running as her heart raced in anticipation of his return when it stopped.

Over his shoulder, "Danie . . this is nice having you here."

Mark dried his hands and walked back over to the side of the car. And idea crept into his mind. He imagined doing up the racing harness on her. Having a chance to be close. That brief instant when he glimpsed her mound was haunting him. Part of him was rational, trying to dissuade the part that was imagining putting her into the belts. Then he heard himself say "Would you like to try out the racing harness? See what it feels like when you are driving?"

Danie smiled a little nervously.

"Here lean forward and I'll get rid of those cushions. You won't be able to reach the pedals anymore, but if you were actually driving we would move them for you"

"You are sitting on the lap belts, just lift up a second." Mark reached in an slid the lap belts out from under her. The shoulder belts were draped on the sides of the car. The crotch straps were on the floor in front of her.

She still looked uncertain and nervous, but Mark continued, undaunted. "Now slide right back into the seat. That was made to fit me, in fact they used me as a mold to make it, so it wont fit you exactly, but you can get the idea. It is important when racing that the driver be held very very tightly into the car."

With that he draped the shoulder belts down over her, and showed her how to get the lap belts in place. "Now reach down on the floor there, and there is a double strap that keeps you from what they call 'submarining'. Means slipping down out of the upper and mid belts. In a crash the car gets tossed all over, but you are safe inside the structure, so its important to stay inside."

He showed her how to insert the tangs from the other lap belt, shoulder belts and the crotch belt into the center lock. All the time leaning quite close to her.

"Drivers really cant get the belts tight enough so crew tightens them just before you go on the track. At that he reached in and tugged first the two lap belts, then the shoulder straps, he went to reach for the crotch strap, but stopped himself. There was a haunting scent. Perhaps she was nervous. For a moment he wondered if he had gone too far, made her uncomfortable.

Standing up straight, "Just hit that button in the center, fairly hard, and they will release."

Looking at the wall clock, a vintage one from an oil company, "Danie, I lost track of the time, your folks will be home soon, you better be getting back." He popped the steering wheel and offered his had to help her climb out. Her hand felt soft and a little cool.

"If you like, next Monday afternoon, you could come here . . . I can always use some help . . " He moved partly behind a workbench, suddenly aware that he was somewhat aroused.

"Danie ... this is nice having you here."

Fresh goosebumps left her frozen without a response. Being unsure of whether or not her efforts had pleased him, the relief from his approval left her on the edge of giddiness. As she wondered what else if anything that he needed her for his voice startled her as he approached from behind the car.

"Would you like to try out the racing harness? See what it feels like when you are driving?"

Before Daniela could answer he was leaning over her and reaching into the cockpit to remove the cushions from behind her. Then she sat back and lifted her hips as he tugged the belts free from beneath her. The way that the seat was positioned in a reclining attitude she was almost lying down. Mark continued to methodically reach across and around her, laying more straps over her shoulders, explaining with expertise as he went.

Then his hand reached down to her thighs and with a minute gasp she realized that he intended to go between them. Carefully, Danie parted them in accommodation. Mark leaned right in, pulled more belts from the floor and dragged them up intimately between her legs. He was so close to her. Daniela had to concentrate to keep her breath even. All the belts seemed to meet at the large buckle in the middle (itself quite mechanical looking) and expertly Mark clicked them all together.

"Drivers really can't get the belts tight enough so crew tightens them just before you go on the track."

Then he began to tuck her in proper. He tugged at the waist straps, snugging her ass into the seat. Next he cinched her shoulders down and her breath nearly left her. Prone and immobile beneath him, Daniela's heart raced with an excitement that she had never known before. She was at his sweet and tender mercy and the center of his attention. The bliss was terrifying.

"Just hit that button in the center, fairly hard, and they will release."

Just like that the bubble had burst. She couldn't deny his instruction, and slowly her hand moved to grasp the buckle. Initially, the pressure of her thumb was inadequate, but she squeezed harder and the heavy click proclaimed her freedom.

He pointed out the clock on the wall. It was nearly five. Her stepmom Heidi might be home in as little as fifteen minutes. Dad would be home by five-thirty or so. Mark pulled the steering wheel out again and helped her step from the cockpit. Once standing she felt as if she'd been off of her feet for much longer and she required a moment to regain her bearings.

"If you like, next Monday afternoon, you could come here ..."

"Uh, sure," she smiled nervously as it sank in that the whole affair just might happen again. "I uh ... I guess I should go now?" she said. Then she turned to the door, then back to Mark as shifted from her to his work bench. "Bye?" she waved breathlessly and stepped out, gingerly shutting the door behind her.

The door closed, Mark stared at it. He was transfixed by a mental image of her, as she walked away. Ridiculous what he was feeling. Strong physical attraction. Why? Her figure was less than ideal for any standard, rather heavy thighs, flat chest. Her hair was nice, natural blonde and pretty eyes, but . . was he that shallow? Apparently, because inside the feeling remained.

Mark shook his head rapidly from side to side to clear it, and went back to watching the end of the race.

Next Monday, early afternoon, he heard a tentative tap at his garage door. He had been staring at his car sitting on the floor on its tires. Wondering what was wrong. Everything had worked fine, no crashes, respectable finishes in the races, but the car felt dead. It just didn't respond with its usual sparkle. Something to do with the repairs. But what?

Tap, tap, tap.

Of course it was Danie. Smiling, he went and opened the door, and without thinking, when she came in, hugged her. Straight on. Immediately he was amazed and embarrassed to realize that he had hugged her, that he could feel her nipples poking his chest, and for the briefest moment before he released her, the softness of her lower abdomen. And worse he had instantly begun to be aroused.

Quickly he turned away, "Danie, I''m so glad you came, its nice to have someone to talk to. Can I get you a soft drink?" To quell the insurgency Mark forced his mind to an image of his chief mechanic spitting tobacco juice in the pits.

It was after dinner and outside the sky was dark. Dad was in his own garage, much grubbier and disorderly than Mr Johnston's. Heidi was on the back porch chain smoking again. Danie got up to close her window to keep the smell out. Her stepbrothers were older and had moved away from home. She was alone in her room with no one to bother her.

Putting on some quiet music, a slow trance hiphop beat, she flopped back onto her bed. The events in the cockpit of Mr Johnston's race car began to replay in her head. Daniela was amazed at how far the seat was reclined and she recalled how he strapped her into it, cinching the belt and trapping her hips fast. Next she remembered how he had tied her shoulders down. Then the most intimate part of all, she recalled how he reached between her parted thighs to fasten the straps from the floor. A wonderful chill came over her. She went through the memory again and this time his words returned to join his actions.

"Now reach down on the floor there, and there is a double strap that keeps you from what they call 'submarining'." Immediately Danie thought of him going down. "In a crash the car gets tossed all over." With this, thought of him cumming shocked her. "It's important to stay inside." Daniela felt dirty with her thoughts but still needed to explore them, to chase their meaning and understand them fully.

Through it all she had been pinned down in the seat, completely vulnerable to his whims. It all sounded so thrilling and dangerous, yet he had brought her no harm. It was too much. Danie slid her jeans down her hips and kicked them off the bed so that she could touch herself.

When she was done the playlist had changed to something loud and brash, some Green Day. It broke the mood. Mark couldn't have meant all those words sexually. He couldn't really have been interested in her. He had a wife and family. Danie just had a dirty little mind. She felt empty. She felt cheap.

The week passed and on two nights with no other distractions she had similar sessions of self loving, but they weren't as hot or fulfilling as the first one. On the other nights there was homework, hanging out with Bonnie, a movie on television and going to dinner at Aunt Joan's to distract her. When Monday morning finally came, a shot of adrenaline kicked her sleepy bones out of bed when she remembered her secret afternoon date.

After showering, she combed out her hair. Then she painted her eyelids in desert beige and finished the lashes with black mascara. She wanted to wear a dress but was afraid that it would not be practical if she sat in the race car again, so she settled on black tights. Stuffing her small breasts into the A-cups of her solid white bra, she covered them with her tight yellow string halter. When her hair was dry enough she twisted it into one long thick braid, leaving the tuft of her bangs. Knowing that the low back would show the bra strap she threw on her faded and worn cropped jean jacket. She pulled on her yellow running shoes to match the top and stepped outside. Mark's truck was silent and cold in the driveway. She paused a moment, then headed off to school.

The day was full of classroom distractions and social diversions, so with few moments to dwell on Mr Johnston, the freedom of the final bell hit her with the shock of anticipation. With a spring in her step, Danie came home from school. Just as the previous Monday, the sky was bright and sunny. The lack of any messages on her phone made her anxious. She went upstairs to her room and put her bag down.

She thought about texting him, but was far too shy. Instead she peered down across the yard and over the fence to the garage with the race car hidden away within. It was three-thirty. Danie trembled with nerves. Soon it was three-forty. Perhaps he had forgotten all about her. Perhaps he was expecting her to just show up. In either case, sending a text would make her look dumb. The silence of her indecision thundered in her ears and she cursed herself for being at such a loss. Finally, Daniela crept back down the stairs, through the kitchen and slowly pushed open the door. She thought that maybe he wasn't even home, but his truck in the driveway said otherwise. She would just go knock.

There were two ways to get there, climbing over the fence or walking out to the road and around the end. Climbing would be noisy and would probably attract more attention (and might tear her clothing too), so on hurried tiptoes so scooted down the driveway and, checking to see if the coast was clear on the quiet street, rounded the end of the fence and traversed the smooth asphalt to the garage. Quietly, she rapped.

Mark answered with a smile and let her in to a warm embrace. It was wonderful and she couldn't help herself snuggling in, pressing her body to his. Then he released her to her abating butterflies, longing for more. She supposed that he had to set a boundary. It was probably rather inappropriate. Guilt began to set in.

Danie, I'm so glad you came. It's nice to have someone to talk to." he greeted her. She became relieved that she had made the right move after all. "Can I get you a soft drink?"

"Umm, sure," she said nervously. "Thank you."

As he got two sodas out of the little fridge, Mark noticed her eyes scanning the garage, and landing on the workout equipment off to one side. A weight bench, a stationary bicycle with a large screen in front of it, and a quad machine. A skipping rope was hanging next to a mat.

He walked slowly that way, and she followed as they talked.

"Most people don't realize the role fitness plays for race car driving. Upper body particularly." Was that the reason he had been slow last weekend? Fact was he had been neglecting his workouts.

"It's not that it requires strength to operate the car, it's that fitness seems to make one sharper, have a more positive attitude. A lot of racing is in your head. All the pros travel with their personal trainer."

He set down his soda and picked up two small weights, lay down on the bench on his back, thighs wide, feet on the floor each side and began to swing the weights from knuckles touching the floor to straight overhead, then cross as far as possible. It felt good, to stretch his chest like that. Although broad shouldered, he didn't naturally have the strong chest muscles some guys had. He struggled in school to do chin ups while some of his pals could do then one handed, seemingly forever. Then when he started driving race cars his first coach emphasized the need for fitness, and he realized reading about his heros just how much time they spent working out. And started the regime, which he had recently let slide.

Smiling he looked at her, then at her chest. And wished he hadn't. She was, to be polite, small there, and from the look in her eye when glanced up again, very self concious of it.

Quickly he sat up, and grabbed his soda. Last thing he wanted to do was to make her feel uncomfortable. Without thinking, he blurted, "Try it, it feels great, really" He had wanted to change the subject and that was the first thing that came into his mind.

"It's not that it requires strength to operate the car, it's that fitness seems to make one sharper, have a more positive attitude. A lot of racing is in your head. All the pros travel with their personal trainer."

She thought of asking him if he had his own personal trainer but her shyness held her tongue. Daniela watched Mark lay himself into the bench with feet apart on the floor, his groin open to her. There was a wrongness in the pose that only compelled her as the reality of him struck her even harder. He began to lift the weights, arms straight, forming arcs as they moved. The process repeated a few times, seemingly to some exacting detail. Then he sat up. His eyes went to her chest and away. The look was brief but it was one that a girl doesn't miss. Danie knew that it was not her best feature. She sipped at her soda and just then realized the flavor of Mountain Dew.

"Try it, it feels great, really."

"Umm, okay," said Daniela shakily, unsure if it was the right move but unable to turn down his invitation. Gingerly she stepped forward and looked about for a spot to put down her can of pop.

With one hand he took the can, and with the other took that hand to help her get on the bench, watching her eyes, wondering if she realized he was becoming aroused. 'It is so obvious with a man' he thought. So unfair that we broadcast like that. Mark helped her lay back, then stood behind her, and immediately noticed the arch of her mound, so prominent when she reclined, spread her thighs and hung her legs over the sides. Her feet didn't quite touch the floor, the bench was set for his height.

He found a pair of light dumbbells for her hands, and gave them to her. Still standing somewhat behind her, the vista of her on her back, thighs wide, mound elevated sent a jolt right to the base of his groin. Mark coached her on slowly raising the weights to directly overhead, then back down as far as was comfortable. He kept his hands under hers, ready to support the weights if she faltered. He was conscious of how cool and soft her skin felt, and realized his hands must feel rough and warm to her.

"Hold them up for a moment?" he called at the moment they were at the high point. Quickly he reached in his pocket and adjusted it upright. Less obvious that way he hoped, and a lot more comfortable.

He led her to repeat the exercise two more times, then said "OK, that better be enough for your first time. We don't want you to strain something." Smiling, he helped her to sit up, and realized he had been imagining her naked on the bench. Rational thoughts left him, and he was left with the realization that for no reason he could think of, he had a very very strong physical attraction to her. The image flashed through his mind of her laying back on the bench, naked and he over top, slowly and deliberately consummating. His erection throbbing he turned away and desperately diverted his mind, or tried to.

And heard himself say, "Danie, maybe you could wear workout clothes next time and I can show you some more exercises you might like."

Daniela sat on the bench but when she laid back her feet dangled freely below her. Mark placed a dumbbell in each of her hands. Her fingers curled around the bars. Then he lifted her arms up in arcs meeting straight above her and eased them back down. She repeated on her own, the tremble in her arms more from her nerves than from the weight. It was a bit awkward without the support of her feet but she shimmied her butt and pointed her toes to touch the floor. The next couple of reps were noticeably smoother, but she still felt sweetly vulnerable laying prone beneath him.

"Hold them up for a moment?"

She paused with her elbows straight and arms up as Mark adjusted the bench, holding them still not to disappoint him. When her heels were able to flatten onto the floor he resumed spotting her and she continued with a few more reps. She wondered what this had to do with working on the car. Still, his attention was mesmerizing. Then Mark halted the proceedings and with a hand in her back, gently guided her to sit up. The blood rushed in her arms and she felt a light wisp of sweat.

"Danie, maybe you could wear workout clothes next time and I can show you some more exercises you might like."

What would she wear for workout clothes? Were tights and a string halter less than ideal? It suddenly became inexplicably crucial to her that he approved of her attire.

"Should I have worn something nicer?" she asked quietly, her breathing a bit more rapid than it needed to be. The rocks of her nipples were well hidden in the pads of her bra.

Mark smiled gently "No, no, no, no - in fact one of the things I noticed about you is how nicely you always dress."

And then for no reason he could ever think of - he hugged her. It was a reaction to the way she spoke and he acted without thinking. It was meant to re-assure her, but instantly he noticed the softness of her body, and the warmth. The warmth flooded through him like a wave, and deep in his groin his body responded. Not arousal as such, but a surge, a tension. And a scent, from her, he could not identify it. His mind raced as he realized he wanted her, physically.

Finally his rational mind kicked in and he released the hug. A bit dazed at the intensity of the sensation. 'What must she think, I must seem ancient to her.'

"All I meant was that you might want something with more - stretch, um, room to move." He was forcing himself to hold eye contact with her, hoping she wouldn't see how the hug had affected him. Even now his mind held the image of how her breasts had felt pressed to his chest. Two separate pressures. And the warmth of her body. And the scent. He could still catch a bit of it. Not a perfume. Something else.

The more he tried to squelch his arousal, the more it grew, and soon there would be no hiding it from her.

"Ummm - what you are wearing is perfect. I just meant if you wanted to you could wear something . . . that you could move easily in."

Then he hugged her sideways, a quick squeeze hand on her opposite shoulder. "I really enjoy these times we have together"

The tension eased slightly as he assured her that he was satisfied with her choice of clothing, but then quite unexpectedly, Mr Johnston drew her in for an embrace. Automatically her hands went about his waist as their chests came together and her cheek rested sweetly on his collar. She felt light inside like never before as he held her and her body rang with a distinct twinge of disappointment when he released her to explain himself further. The words didn't register. The intimacy had left her somewhat dizzy.

"I really enjoy these times we have together."

The thought rang clear and warmed her. His arm was around her, pulling them together shoulder to shoulder. The contact was not nearly so intense as before but was still soothing. Danie turned to him with her blue eyes pleading to know. Her soft timid voice was barely above a whisper.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Taking her by the hands, Mark stood her up, beside the bench, looking straight into her eyes.

"Pretty? No I wouldn't say pretty"

He smiles gently.

"Beautiful, inside and out, that is what I would say."

Hands now resting on her shoulders. Then sliding over and down her back, drawing her close again, All the time his mind screaming, 'you are an idiot'

Then a full embrace, her chest on his, her head on his upper chest, just at his chin, her lower body warm against his thighs. Tumescence down one leg of his jeans. This time he just enjoyed the softness of her body. Very very gently touching her, and staying that way, waiting for a reaction from her. His mind still screaming 'Idiot' but his body autonomously expressing his need

"Beautiful, inside and out, that is what I would say."

Daniela's heart fluttered at the word beautiful. She suddenly felt beautiful. Goosebumps radiated all over her back and she was in a trance of admiration. Mark pulled her close again, softly to his body and she fell blissfully into his arms, nestling into his protective embrace. Slowly and deeply, she inhaled the serenity of the moment, her chest filling and pressing the pads of her bra to his chest. Sensing the need to return the love that she felt from him she pressed her palms tighter into his back. it was wonderful to be so close.

Her hands pressed on his back sent a shiver down his spine. Mark became lost in the sensations of her body on his. Everywhere softness and warmth. As if watching a film he saw himself lean down and kiss the side of her throat. Her scent flooded his nostrils. Not perfume, something else, a bit musky but basically fresh and clean.

He stroked her back up and down slowly, exploring from her shoulders to her waist, then up again, then back down this time farther, onto the beginnings of the curve of her butt. To the sides. Lower. The curves of her hips. Upper outer thighs.

Cock now thick down his pant leg. Instinctively moving side to side. Was that her mound? Soft, pillowy.

Deep pitched moan vibrated his chest. His mind telling him 'STOP STOP STOP - let her go - this is insane'

Finally he pushed her away stammering "I'm I'm . . . I don't know what . . . Are you . . . I . . . . " He looked into her eyes to try to decipher if she was upset or angry or . . .

Such tenderness was bliss. Danie's emotions followed his hand up her back, then downward, then up again. On the next pass, his touch moved even further down towards the waistline and she inhaled in anticipation. Then it crossed the threshold to her ass and she inhaled again, her eyelids fluttering as if in a trance. When his hands continued to slowly slide their way down her hips to her thighs, the excitement in her chest was like a swarm of butterflies. Of course she knew that it was totally wrong but she couldn't stop her flood of emotions. Besides, Mark was in control, he would protect her. She put her trust in him. Danie moistened her lips, ready to make out.

Then with his palms to her shoulders, he separated their bodies and the rug was pulled from beneath her heart. He was stuttering. It seemed unmanly of him. She had never thought of him that way, at such a loss. She looked up at him, half sad, half pleading and thoroughly perplexed.

"I'm sorry. What did I do wrong?"

Without answering Mark took her by the hand, and led her to the big overstuffed couch that faced the big screen TV. Part of him watched this in disbelief. He sat, and pulled her down beside him. Their hips and outer thighs in contact.

"Nothing, nothing at all"

One hand behind her head turned her face to his. The warmth where their bodies met seemed to invade him to the core. Gently his finger trailed across the line of her jaw, lifting it slightly. Then a kiss. Very very lightly, her lips like little pillows but moist, promising the delights to be had with her. Soft, warm and moist. His hand from her jaw to her hip, cupping and caressing the curve.

His mind still screaming stop stop stop you idiot. But something primal was driving him, and it would not be denied. His hand slid up under her top, under her bra and over her breast. Soft, delicate, the nipple a nub rubbing the center of his palm.

"I need you"

By his tender lead, she stood and followed him to the sofa. Timidly, she sat and nuzzled as Mark drew her close. There was a disconnect to his eventual answer which had passed the very moment that it had come, whisked away by his lifting of her face for a soft kiss. His intentions had swung wildly back to passion and Daniela's body began to melt as their lips delicately yet firmly pressed together.

Then her face held tilted by the kiss, his unburdened hand was free to caress her hip, sending shivers up her skin as it slipped beneath the hem of her top and began to work its way upwards. Her breathing hastened as his fingertips crawled up her flank and over her ribs, and her whole torso gave a quick shudder of anticipation when they began to burrow beneath the band of her strapless bra. The pad slid upwards and his palm enveloped the small mound of flesh. With a tiny whimper of pleasure, she gripped him by the waist in approval.

"I need you."

The intimacy was addicting. Her pulse thudded away as his palm worked the small stone of her nipple straining erect amid its small gold areola. Danie had made out a few times and had even lost her virginity a few months previously, but she had never been with a real man before. His strength and independence had swooned her and she was mesmerized. With eyes closed, she pressed her lips back to his as if by a magnetic pull, and as they met she parted them to invite him inside.

Slowly he separated her lips with his tongue. Purposely he thrust in, a clear metaphor for the way his penis would enter her vagina. At this point there was no longer a question whether that would happen. It was certain. But all in good time. It was his nature to enjoy the journey before reveling at the destination.

Gently, still massaging her breast, tongue sliding in and out imitating the teasing thrusts of initial coitus, he took her hand and guided it to the swelling down one leg of his jeans.

His hand moved smoothly to the other breast, still under the band of her bra. Again teasing the nipple. And continuing to kiss, tongues swirling.

His other hand started to roam the curves of her hips. Quick darting moves down the groove between hip and tummy. A deft glancing touch to her upper inner thigh, then back to the ample curves from her waist to her hip. All this over the fabric of her tights. He wanted to feel the soft tender skin, but, not yet.

The negative thoughts silenced for the moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of raw physical desire.