Test Drive

When I moved to Denver I got a job at RPM selling cars. Not just any cars, primo sports cars. Mostly imports. Used of course, but the kind of cars that people collect rather than buy to ust drive around. We had a lot of BMWs and a few Mercedes. We had Audi and Jag and always had Corvettes around. I liked the Porsches myself.

Ron Pettinger (RPM = Ron Pettinger Mototrs) was good guy to work for. He'd hang around for an hour in the mornings, then take off to play golf, come back around 4 or 5. As long as you didn't give him any bull, he let you do your thing. It was a high end lot so we had to look good. There were usually about 30 cars in the inventory. We kept 6 inside the glass showroom. There was a shop in the back with a service mechanic, and a detailer for when new cars came in and needed some spiffing up. He doubled as a lot boy. The sales staff was three of us, 4 if you included Ron when he was around. It was Tuesday, Kev's day off and Ron had just left so me Phil and the receptionist had the place to ourselves. It was quiet. I had my feet up on my desk next to the Bentley in the showroom.

"I keep tellin' Ron he keeps takin that Maserati to the golf course, one of these days he gonna bring it back with a golf ball through the windshield," said Phil. Phil was a round black man with grey specks in his trimmed beard. He always talked slow and warm. Customers felt comfortable with him.

"Better that than a dimple in the hood," I said. My style was more flashy. I was 26, dashing and charming. My smile and quick wit sold cars. I used my reflection in the shiny polished door of the Bentley to straghten my tie. Blue with some slanted checker pattern of gold and silver. It went well with the dark grey suit, blue eyes and neat blond hair. The jacket hung over the back of my chair. The new white shirt fit perfect.

"Look like someone's walkin' in," said Phil.

OOC: closed thread, thx

Pulling into the lot of RPM, I shifted my car into park and climbed out, brushing my hair from my shoulders. The sun was bright today, which had caused me to lower the top of my cherry red Corvette and take a drive. I savored the sun on my cheeks and the wind in my hair, taking advantage of the rare nice weather whenever I could. Grabbing my clutch purse, I slowly approached the showroom, examining cars as I passed. My dad had just sent me a check for a fraction of my inheritence from my grandfather, a small fraction but a large check. While most 22 year old girls would blow that money on clothes and purses, I loved buying cars. Sure, I did treat myself to nice clothes and purses and the like, but most of my money went to cars. Expensive sports cars. And while I had plenty of money in the bank to spend, I bought used. Why? Well, after wrecking a brand new Mercedes, I now preferred to buy a car that wouldn't be as much of a loss. My father, who only wanted the best, mocked me, but I grew up with a little more common sense than him, thanks to my mother.

As I opened the door to the show room, I was greeted by a wave of chilled air. I felt goosebumps rise on my exposed arms, cursing myself for wearing a sleevless shirt. It was one of my favorites, though, and who couldn't resist baring more skin than usual on a beautiful day like this? Plus, I tended to show off my body. Not to be cocky, but I have a nice body. Slender, muscular legs that were often clad in jeans when I wasn't in a bikini around the pool. A flat stomach that modeled a sparkling belly button ring. A full chest, smooth shoulders, toned arms. All of this was topped off with light chesnut hair that I wore differently almost every day. I wore barely any make up but I did indulge in mascara and eyeshadow occasionally.

I spotted a few employees as I ran my fingertips along the flawless paint of the nearest car, not really interested in it but playing as if I was nonetheless. I knew the tricks. Don't tell them how much you have to spend. Keep all of your options open (unlike my dad who wanted something specific and was often unhappy with his results). Don't play the dumb girl or they'd take advantage of you. I had bought enough cars to know this.

"I got this one, Phil," I put on my salesman smile and got up from my desk.

"Sure, sure," he said as he leaned back in his chair. He had a wife and four kids. He left me to the hot young thing.

I approached her as she ran her fingers along the fender of the black Jag. She was young, early twenties, with thick dark hair and dark eyes. She wasn't afraid to show her taut skin either, with exposed arms and midriff. The navel piercing was a nice touch. She could have been a cheerleader for the Broncos. The sunlight gleamed off her convertible Vette outside. "Definitely an extrovert," I thought to myself. And judging by the way she sauntered in here and started touching things without asking, "rich and bratty" too.

"Welcome to RPM, I extended my hand. "My name's Doug. What can I do for you today?"

My eyes moved from the Jag as I heard a voice introduce itself as Doug. Smiling, I accepted the hand in a firm shake before releasing it and resting my thumb in my pocket. Even if I didn't find the right car today, it was well worth it to meet this gentleman. Tall, blonde, gorgeous. Normally I would have pulled out the flirt card, but that could wait until later (mainly when it came time to write the check). Right now it was time for business.

"I'm looking for a car, obviously. Something smaller, mainly, since I don't need a lot of room. Color and make don't matter." I listed the basics, knowing I was making this man's job a lot easier by not being picky. Plus, I wasn't ever really picky. I liked to try new things. Cars was one of those. My eyes scanned the selection inside, like a little child at the candy store.

She put her thumb in her pocket and my eyes went to her hips and she shifted her weight to that leg. Then I looked back up at her face from under my brow. She was such a fine thing.

"Something small, hrmm?" I pondered. "Well you already have a 'Vette," I noted. "I think you'd look good in this Alfa outside."

I started leading her towards the door letting my eyes hang on her most of the way. I held open the glass door for her and my eyes followed her ass as she walked through.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," I prompted her.

http://www.alfa-romeo-blog.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/11/alfa_romeo_spider_serie4.jpg

"Audrey."

I replied, following him to the small red Alfa. It was the perfect size, especially considering I was normally the only person in it. Sure, once in a while I'd have the occasional boyfriend accompying me, but normally I liked to drive by myself. My fingertips touched the flawless red paint, a color I had never really liked but that looked perfect on this car. Sure, I had the red Corvette, but the car had been a gift from my grandfather so I couldn't turn it down.

Turning towards Doug, I smiled. "Any chance I could take a quick test drive?" I couldn't wait to get behind the wheel of this car.

"It's a '92, mint condition, Series 4 Spider. Only 40 thousand miles on it. 2 liter fuel injected engine, 5 speed manual," I listed. "This one has metallic wine red paint, or as they say in Italian, rosso vinaccia. This is a very stylish, exotic car."

As she looked over the bodywork, I looked over hers.

"Were practically giving it away at $19,900".

"Any chance I could take a quick test drive?"

"I'll have to go get the keys," I said and walked back into the showroom.

"I'm taking the Alfa for a spin," I told Phil as I took keys down from the board.

"Don't git it dirty," he drawled as I walked back out the door.

"Here you go, Audrey," I handed her the keys. "Shall we put the top down?"

"Sure. Especially on a gorgeous day like this."

I replied, unlocking the door and slipping into the driver's seat. My eyes were in a frenzy as I attempted to look at everything at once, picturing myself speeding down the highway in this car. My hands resting on the steering wheel as I leaned back in the seat. I think I was already falling in love with this car, even though it was only the first one I had gotten the chance to drive.

She sat in behind te wheel and I leaned my body presence in front of her to undo the latch. The top popped slightly on the driver's side.

"Could you reach over and do the same on the other side for me please?" I requested charmingly. I walked around the front of the car slowly keeping an eye on her to get a good show as she leaned forward.

The job did have it's perks.

I did as he asked, aware of his eyes on me but not bothered by it. Men often stared at me and I found it flattering. I especially didn't mind this man staring at me, gorgeous as he was. As he got into the passengers seat, I adjusted the driver's seat and mirrors to accomodate my short frame.

My fingers itched to start the engine of this car. It was like a new toy for me, even if I didn't own it. Yet, at least. Although there were still all of the other cars in the lot. So many choices. Stretching, I felt my tank top ride up a little but didn't bother to fix it. More skin, less money. It often worked for me. Maybe I'd be lucky this time, too.

Her tits hung in the red top and wiggled a wee bit as she fiddled with the latch, finally popping it free. It was an impressive show. She even smiled coyly when she caught me looking. That's when I knew I was into something good. I lifted the top up and folded it back carefully and neatly, clicking it down into place and took the passenger's seat.

"Low is here and reverse is here," I showed her. "It's Italian so pushing the signal indicator inward is the horn." I reached across her and demonstrated. The car emitted a brief and ladylike MEEP.

"Go ahead, darlin'," I said. "It may be Italian but it starts up with a key just like American," I winked.

Turning the key in the ignition, I started the car, smiling as the engine purred to life. I pulled out of the car lot and onto the road, testing the speed. "Impressive." I commented under my breath, driving with one hand as I relaxed back into the seat. Even though most would have been nervous to drive a car they didn't own, I was comfortable with the car and my driving skills. Not cocky, just comfortable.

"It's different, but I like it." I told Doug, glancing at him with a smile while trying to keep my eyes on the road. I turned onto a road that I knew was straight, flat, and free of cops, pressing the gas and watching the car gain speed. I let it hit 90 before I backed off, not wanting to push my luck.

When she turned onto Cassidy, I knew the girl liked to play. It was 2 and a half miles to the next stoplight, and if that was green it was another mile and a half to Providence Ave.

"As you can see, it doesn't quite throw you back into the seat like your Corvette, but it still is peppy," I said. "And it handles very easy too."

I watched the speedo hit 90 as we flew past a bus and a minivan. Trusses of her hair floated out around her in the wind.

"You will turn more heads in this car," I told her. "Corvettes are everywhere. With an Alfa you are making a statement of sophistication." I was laying on the slick sales pitch. "You look fabulous in this car. This car looks fabulous with you in it," I winked.

Despite myself, I could feel a light blush creeping up my sternum and neck. The wink always caught me off guard. I did have to admit, though, that I loved this car. Not only did it run good, but it looked good. Pulling into an empty lot, I put the car into park. I wanted to discuss the price now before we returned to the lot. My dad had taught me the trick, knowing that you were likely to get a better deal when a salesman wasn't under the pressure of his collegues and boss.

"So how much are we talking?" She asked conversationally, turning towards him.

"So how much are we talking?"

"It's a steal at $19,900," I said. "If I had a wife, I'd have brought it home for her already."

She was twisted in the seat facing me, with her elbow propped near the headrest. She had a sultry look in her eye. I sat back and drank her it.

"What do you think?" I put the ball back in her court, knowing thaere was more on her mind than price.

"Can't give it to me for 19,000?" Sometimes she settled for the price they gave, not worry about emptying her bank account any time soon. But today she was in the mood for negotiating, fighting to the very end until she got what she wanted.