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Probably both.
Definitely both.
Jess walked ahead of us as we made our way to check in. The Fairgrounds Speedway was surrounded by trees on all sides, with a convention building at the forefront of the property that held merch and concession booths. Beyond that, the track occupied the rest of the property, with bleachers overlooking it. Vincent and Jason had driven the Bronco down to the pit, a curved expanse of asphalt right next to the track, where all the drivers and their crews were gathered to prepare for the day’s competition.
The warm air was tinged with the scent of burned rubber and cigarettes, and I took a deep breath. I didn’t feel comfortable in many places, but I was comfortable here. It was my home away from home, but we weren’t only there for moral support; Jason needed mechanics to ensure the Z made it through the day. Drifting was hard on a car, and without maintenance, the Z wouldn’t last past the qualifying rounds. We had our equipment in the back of the Bronco; tools and any necessary items for repairs. If something went wrong on the track, we had to fix it quickly or forfeit the competition.
“Amazing that you can scowl after a blow job like that,” Manson said, walking beside me. Jess was far enough ahead of us not to overhear — or so it would seem. But I could have sworn I saw her head turn slightly toward us, trying to listen in.
She was too clever. Too observant.
Manson slung his arm around my shoulders, pulling me toward him and kissing me. He was in a good mood today; in fact, he’d been in a great mood ever since he spent the night at her house.
“I think she knows how to play the game too well,” I said,when he pulled back but left his arm around me. “You’re already getting too attached.”
His smile faltered, but only for a moment. “She may know how to play, but we made the rules. Have fun with her. She plays to win, you know that. The more you challenge her, the more she’ll push back.”
Goddamn it, but that was what I was afraid of. I couldn’t resist competition either, so when Jess pushed back, I pushed harder. It was a cycle that I couldn’t see ending in anything other than an explosion.
And maybe that was how this whole thing was destined to go down anyway. A fierce competition to a fiery finish. I just didn’t know how many of us would get destroyed along the way.
39
Jessica
The moment I stepped into the pit, I was surprised at the amount of noise and activity all around me. Some groups were assembling canopies to cover their work area, while others were simply arranging their tools and supplies in front of their trailers. There was a plethora of cars, some models I recognized and some that looked too strange to be from any manufacturer I knew of. They were built light and low to the ground, their interiors gutted down to bare metal. Manson explained that it made the car lighter, faster, and easier to maneuver.
Like Jason’s Z, these cars weren’t built for comfort; they were built for performance.
The vibe was overwhelmingly positive. Multiple people greeted the boys as they passed us by, some drivers stopping to chat. I kept out of the way, perching myself in the front seat of the Bronco with the door open and my feet propped up in the open window. I could watch the action from there, eating a corn dog Vincent had bought me from inside.
The excitement in the air reminded me of the energy of a pep rally before a big game. Except I didn’t see any animosity from the various drivers, despite them all being about to compete against each other. I saw lots of people smiling and laughing,playing music on portable Bluetooth speakers. Some of the drivers had even brought their families along.
Jason appeared in the Bronco’s open door, leaning against the frame as he smiled at me. He was wearing a black jumpsuit, the style of it reminding me of a certain Halloween party and the costume he wore that night. I remembered him zipping it down while I was on my knees, revealing his brightly tattooed chest and stroking his thick cock in front of me.
Oooh, I did not need to be thinking about his dick right now. My panties were wet enough.
I was still so uncomfortably turned on from that blow job. I didn’t know why Lucas tried so damn hard to pretend he didn’t enjoy anything. It made me want to rattle that hard-ass exterior and get into his head. Maybe my discovery of his little kink would enable me to do that.
Who would have thought that big bad Lucas wanted to be called a good boy? The thought filled me with wicked glee.
“Some of the guys are about to do a few practice runs,” Jason said, grasping my outstretched leg. I was wearing denim shorts today so my skin was bare, and he turned his head to kiss my ankle, keeping his sharp blue eyes on me as he did. “Want to watch?”
Unsure of what exactly I was about to see, I nodded. He walked with me to the front of the Bronco and helped me climb up, sitting beside me on the hood with our feet resting on the bumper. A chain-link fence and a low embankment separated the pit from the track beyond. It was a wide, vaguely oval-shaped expanse of asphalt, marked with white paint and orange traffic cones. On the side closest to us, a curved road led out of the pit and onto the track, leading toward a starting line. A pole with a series of yellow, green, and red lights was affixed into the ground just beside the line.
An older, deep gray BMW pulled up to the starting line, andJason leaned closer to me as he explained, “The drivers will be judged on three things: line, angle, and style. The line has to do with how the car is positioned. See those squares and diagonal lines on the track? Those are inside clips and fill zones. We’re required to get our front or back bumpers into those zones as we move through the track.”
He pointed them out, white squares and lines positioned either on the inside of tight turns or around the edges of the wide one. Suddenly, with a massive roar that made me clap my hands over my ears, the old BMW flew from the starting line and onto the course. Clouds of thick white smoke poured from its tires as it slid into the first turn, its back bumper gliding through the painted zone that curved along the first wall.
“We’re judged on angle,” Jason shouted over the engine’s blaring scream. “See when he turns, how smooth it looks? His car isn’t wobbling around, he isn’t overcorrecting his steering. Last is style. The judges will look at how you initiate going into the first turn, and how well you transition through the course.”
The driver sped through the course in mere seconds, leaving clouds of smoke and the aroma of burning rubber drifting through the air. The noise and speed were stunning, and I watched with rapt attention as more drivers lined up to practice.
“They’re going so fast,” I said. “It’s amazing they don’t crash.”
“It takes a lot of practice,” Jason said, giving me a toothy grin. “I’m going to get in a few rounds of my own before the competition starts.” He leaned closer, his eyes flickering down to my lips. “Will you be cheering for me?”
I scrunched up my mouth in thought, as if it was even a question. “I don’t know…That driver over there in the Corvette is pretty cute…” His eyes flashed dangerously, and I laughed, kissing him. “Of course I’ll be cheering for you. You’d better win.”
