🚗 Eroticauto

AKA: A Carlequin Romance

AKA: 50 Shades of Grease

by Erin Brandt Filliter

We pull into the mechanics. My engine revs.

Charlie pats my hood; my buttons push reflexively.

“It’s weird! The gas light keeps flickering on.” My driver shrugs.

I’d gaslight anyone to get to you, Charlie. 

His voice is smooth as oil. “She’ll purr like a kitten when I'm through with her.” 

Mmm-mmm. I hope so.

We’re finally alone. Rough hands caress my strong Swedish frame, appreciating the familiar lines of a mature Volvo.

My carburetor rattles as he slides through the driver-side door, coveralls molding into the contours of my seat. Ever the gentleman, he disregards the faint smell of spoiled milk and Cheerios crushed into my upholstery.

The key sinks into my ignition, sparking fire in my soul. I respond with a display of dashboard delights.

“Now, why would your gas light be stuck on?” He whispers. 

Because, lover, I need your touch!

His fingers glide across my bumper to lift my hood. His tools tantalize my transmission, tickle my fuel injection, and toy with my master/slave cylinders.

Hoisted on the hydraulic jack, he strokes every inch of my undercarriage, wiping with a supple shop cloth.

My dashboard clock seizes. I’ve lost all sense of time. I… shudder… radiator steaming.

Purrrrr.

Sated, I flick off the gas light.

“Good girl.” Charlie lights a cigarette.

The heat from my motor flushes my ventilation system with a sigh.

 My driver interrupts my rapture. “Thanks for taking care of the old gal!”

Charlie puffs smoke through a wolfish grin. "My pleasure."

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