The Garage

It was a hot day.

The traffic’s so thick, and I had forgotten that coming out at this time of day was a bad move. The main arterial route I was travelling led to the city. Worse, school was out, so there were Mum’s running amuck on the streets in their four by fours and people movers. It was chaos.

Worse, I was low on fuel. The little light continually flashed its incessant message at me. Blink, blink, blink. Warning and I had better heed its advice. Small my car may be, but running out of fuel on this road and at this time of day under a burning sun, was enough to make me decide that I would get fuel ASAP. Thinking of the nearest fuel stations and what lay ahead of me, I knew the next major intersection held two depots. Both on the other side of the road, and each on a corner of the major intersection. Getting into one would mean crossing the oncoming traffic just before the lights, and although it was a reputable fuel supplier, you could only go in one way, fuel up in that direction and then leave. This proposed difficulties for me getting back into the flow of traffic to head for home.

*sigh*

The other fuel depot was less reputable, but I could use the green arrow at the lights to turn into it. Fine, that would have to do. Making my way through the occasionally hazardous traffic, I finally made it to the intersection where said light finally turned green and I could zip into the driveway of the garage, with a jerk who was tailing me missing the derierre of my wee car.

I pulled up at the first available pump, and after popping the fuel lid jumped out of the car, wallet in one hand, stuffing keys into my jeans pocket with the other, walked around the back of my car.

It was then I realised I was dressed for slubbing around at home, not in view of the general public. Sure I was fully clothed, but… I had on a pair of boot leg jeans, a pair of thongs on my feet (they’re my faves, and the fact they’re purple, may or may not factor into that), and a mauve singlet with no over-shirt.

Why wasn’t it suitable? Because I had no bra on. So sue me, it was a hot day dammit, and I hadn’t planned on making any stops.

Looking at the pump I realised that there was nowhere to select the dollar amount of fuel I needed to buy. “Dammit! Really? This is on a major arterial road for fucks sake.” Muttering to myself, I was thinking about how much money this depot would make – there was no reason not to have updated fuel pumps!

Having to stick to a budget was slowly becoming something that was a pain in my arse. Still, I couldn’t afford to fill my tank like I was used to doing in the not too distant past. Looking at the pump once again, and recalling that I wasn’t using the best supplier of fuel, I choose the more expensive type of fuel for my car. Hoping as I did so that it would be the equivalent quality of the cheaper fuel across the way.

Twenty dollars and two cents later, I put the fuel nozzle back on the pump effectively shutting it down.

Walking into the cool air of the garage I scanned the area for the register. Ah there it was. Over in the opposite corner to where I expected it. Circumnavigating the ice-cream freezers and not even tempted to put my hand in and reach for an ice cream, I placed my money down on the counter and stated “Number six thanks.”

“Number six?” the boy behind the counter queried.

“Yes, number six thank you.”

“Are you sure it’s number six?”

“Yes. It’s number six.” Wondering what his problem was.

“It can’t be number six.” I was becoming mildly annoyed.

“It can and it is. I checked. Number six please.” Make that becoming beyond pissed.

He queried my selection twice more, so in total frustration, I pointed out my little white and relatively still new vehicle whereupon he finally accepted my cash.

Honestly, if he hadn’t snapped out of it… then again, if he so much as hinted at requesting five cents to cover the two cents over that I’d pumped into my car, he had another thing coming.

Receipt finally in hand, I turned away and crashed fully into six foot seven inches of rather hunky male. Seriously, it was akin to walking into a brick dunny.

With all the too-ing and fro-ing between myself and the pump-operator, a sizeable queue had formed.

Backing up I apologised profusely, blushed and stepped around Man Mountain. I heard an appreciative, “G’day!” As I sailed past.

My response? “Cheeers.” With a hand wave over my shoulder as I waltzed out the door.

Really, a person asks me if I’m having a good day and I walk off saying cheers? That bump must have scrambled my brains.

Half way across the station driveway and heading for my car, I realised with no small amount of shock and amusement that the guy had been trying to hit on me.

That never happens anymore. Well, let me put it this way, at my age it happens so rarely that I don’t even recognise it when it happens. Point in case.

Finally reaching my car I hop in, put my belt on (habit), and lean forward to put my keys in the ignition as my window comes down to let in the cool afternoon breeze that has finally sprung up and the central locking kicks in.

Sitting back in my seat, I’m just about to move off when seemingly out of nowhere a large hand lands on the sill of my window, and larger than life a body squats down on the other side of the door.

Not normally a nervous person, I will admit to a small ‘eek’ leaked out of me.

It’s Man Mountain, and he’s now at eye level with me.

OMG. Now what?

“Hello again.”

“Umm.”

“Sorry, if I made you jump. I didn’t intend on startling you.”

The guy is squatting outside my window, wearing high vis clothing, hair in disarray. Okay, I can accept this. What confounds me is the cultured, gentle yet deep and smooth as silk voice oozes out of him and my heart just melts into a puddle on hearing him talk.

WTH?

“Are you okay?”

“Umm.” Okay now where the hell are my brains? GeezLouise.

He’s smiling at me, but I believe he’s trying, with great difficulty, not to laugh. Hmpf!

“I wondered if you were doing anything tomorrow night?”

“Are you kidding me?” I responded, totally startled.

A deep chuckle emanated from him.

OMG. I’m screwed.

“No, I’m serious. So, are you? Busy I mean.”

The sunglasses that covered half his face wrapped around his head so securely, I was certain that if someone hit him across the back of the head, they would stay in place. That thought wasn’t helpful, but like most thoughts that entered my head these days, it appeared – not helping the situation any.

“Look, sweetie…”

“Sweetie? Oh, this isn’t going to be good is it.” Looking away from me, I noticed the smile slowly melting from his face. For the first time since he’d taken up residence outside my car door I might add. Hmmm.

I couldn’t help myself. I grinned. Reaching up to the top of my head I grabbed my sunnies and slid them down onto the bridge of my nose.

Ah, misguided security. Safe from nothing except uv-rays, it was misguided indeed. At a time like this? I’d take what I could get.

“See this?” I asked as I swung my left hand outside the drivers side window and waved it around like a madwoman.

“Hmmm, yes. I believe… yes, yes. It’s a hand?”

This time it was my turn to chuckle. Oh stop it, I told myself.

Waggling my ring finger only now, I continued on regardless.

“It’s a ring.” I said, as deadpan as I could.

“Listen,” he said, “I rarely give jewellery before the first date. I really think you might be worth that bestowment, it’s just not something I was prepared for. You know, if I’d known I would bump into you today, well, I would have been prepared. Would you take a rain check?”

This made me grin. What can I say? I’m weak where gorgeous males, and jewelry come together in the same time zone.

Shaking my head, I pulled it out of the clouds, my thoughts taking a swift right-hand turn. Where did this guy get off? It looked like I would have to be blunt.

“Look, mate. I’m engaged.”

“Ah, so that’s a no then?”

“Yes!” thinking to myself, at last he finally gets it.

“That’s great. What time can I pick you up?”

Arghhhhhh. Thumping my head forward onto the steering wheel, I groaned in frustration. This guy was doing my head in. I was about to sit up, put the car in gear and move off, when I found my hand, THAT HAND, engulfed in his. His hand was the size of a bears paw. He held my hand with the tips of his fingers, he then ever so gently wrapped my wrist in his other hand.

I found my hand secured.

I felt safe.

I relaxed.

Then three things happened instantly.

A ping of intense feeling swept through me, filling my entire body.

I forgot to breath.

Awareness of where I was, and what was happening then smacked me in the back of the head like a frozen fish on high flail.

I tried and failed to snatch my hand back.

“Feel this,” he said as he pulled my hand gently forward and placed it, palm flat against the middle of his chest.

His heart raced under my hand. He spoke once again, softly, deeply…

“That’s what you are doing. It’s what you’ve been doing since I first saw you stepping around the back of your car, and up to the pump.”

Suddenly I realised that my heart was pounding too. Okay, stalker alert.

The hot flush that had swept through my body immediately dissipated. Where the hell did I think I was for heavens’ sake? In the middle of a happy ever after story book? Good grief, this was real for goodness’ sake. Stuff like this doesn’t happen in real life. Only I would land a stalker at a garage dressed like this.

Pulling my hand away from him, I shook my head. Picking his other hand up from where it still rested on the doorsill, I dropped it outside my car door.

“Bye mate.” It was all I said as I gave him a small, sad smile before putting my car into gear and moving off.

It was then I noticed I was shaking like a leaf. Pushing all thoughts of my strange, yet stirring close encounter out of my head, I moved my car to the other side of the garage.

I needed to gather my scattered wits, and I also had to check the air in my tyres. There’s no way he would know I’d not yet left, as the garages service centre sat between the pumps and the air service and car wash, where I was now. As far as it concerned him, I’d driven straight out of the garage and back onto the main drag.

I sat in the car for a minute or two, trying to shake off the mixed emotions that were shooting through my body, but I was damn well going to take control on the nonsensical thoughts that were shooting through my head. Finally getting out of the relative safety of my car, I shook my head at the crazy world I now lived in.

Still, I smiled at the attempt he’d made. It had certainly been a different way of trying to get to know someone – or get in their pants.

I wonder how often he’d tried it before, and more to the point, if it had worked?

Collecting the air hose I moved to the front of the car. I bent over and took the cap off the tyre and applied the nozzle. A small amount of air squeakily escaping before I seated the nozzle home properly.

Checking off the weight shown on the gauge in the tyre before applying any pressure. I noted that I did indeed need air. Plunging my thumb down, listening to the hiss of as air was slowly being forced into the tyre, my thoughts once again turned back to the male that had just asked me out on a date. I shook my head in disbelief. No one would believe me if I told this story.

I looked down at what I was wearing again. This male that I didn’t know from Adam, had tried to pick me up in a garage of all places, even after I’d told him I was engaged. The cheek!

Seriously, he must have been desperate. I chuckled. I blamed the total encounter on the girls, I should have worn a bra. My fault for flaunting them as I had.

The right weight was met in the tyre, so I capped it and moved on.

I was overweight and old. Fat and old. The only attraction had to be the girls. My normal intelligence had failed me entirely in the verbal encounter, so there wasn’t anything there to have egged him on at all. Hell, I don’t even recall doing my hair this morning.

I heard a motorbike pull up beside me wanting to use the air hose too. Well, they’d have to wait, I still had two more tyres to check.

I’d moved onto the third tyre when something large landed – and with some force I might add – on my arse, propelling me up and around to face my attacker, where I immediately took up a fighting stance.

What the hell?!

Ah shit. I relaxed.

At a guess, ‘that’ was no more, and no less than a rather large paw being applied to my rear, by a rather large man. A large man that had stepped back a few paces at my obvious aggression in response to his attack.

“Hey!” I frowned at him. Yet more intelligence being shown on my part. “What part of ‘No’ don’t you get Sasquatch?”

“Sasquatch? You know that’s not a very nice thing to say to a guy.”

“Are you for real?”

“Look, I just want to ask you out on a date. Where’s the harm?”

This being said all while he was now slowly encroaching on my space. My back hit the front end of my car.

“You are not old.” As he reached out to me.

“You are not fat.” He leaned into me, forcing me to either meet him chest to chest, or lean back.

I leant back.

“And you are definitely not married yet!”

Then he ever so gently wrapped his bear sized paws around my waist before my back finally met the hood

He was serious. Super, super serious.

Husky his voice maybe at the moment, but there was serious intent there. Read my message, it said, loud and clear.

My back met with the hood of my car, just as his chest met with mine.

Damn.

His hands had slowly made their way up my sides, touching nothing and yet touching everything in their wake. Raising my hands above my head, he kept them wrapped up in one oversized paw, with his other running back down my arm, to my face, where, holding it gently, he placed the most chaste of kisses on my mouth.

Damn. It. All. I wanted more.

What could I say, it had been a dry spell.

A long, very dry spell.

Lifting his face away from mine, he looked me directly the eye. That’s when I saw his eyes for the first time. He had green eyes. Deep sea green.

I could get lost in those eyes.

I did get lost in those eyes.

Thank goodness he had me draped over the hood of my car as I’m fairly certain that my legs would not have held me up right about then. They’d gone all to goo. Like my brain.

“Now,” he said as he pulled me up, and straight back into his arms. “I won’t,” he kissed the tip of my nose, “take no,” he kissed above one eye, “for,” he then kissed above the other, “an answer.” With that, he kissed me again. Still chaste, but longer, trailing it across my jaw, down my neck to my collarbone, then back up to my lips, where he nibbled my bottom lip.

His lips were soft, he was gentle in his kissing of me, and I was completely and irrevocably lost.

With one arm wrapped around my lower back, and the other cupping my cheek he said, “Don’t freak out on me okay? I’m going to put my card in your back jeans pocket..”

His hand slid into the back pocket of my jeans.

OMG.

“Call me tomorrow and let me know where you’ll be. I don’t care if it’s at a friends place, a bar, the beach, or with people in tow, just tell me you’ll meet me?”

All this said as he reined kisses across my face.

If I moaned, I didn’t know it. I’m sure if I reflect on it later there will be a lot of moaning. To be frank, I’m not even certain I was still breathing.

“Tell me you’ll meet me? Please?” All in that voice.

OMG.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’ll meet you.”

“Good girl.” Hugging me to him, he gave me one final chaste kiss on the lips, and turned and climbed onto his bike. Pulled his lid on, and with a wave, roared onto the road and was lost in the traffic in a heartbeat.

I got back into my car, started it up, and shakily, headed home.

Ring. Why hadn’t it worked? It always worked, even on the pushy guys.

Brain?

Nowhere.

****

Advertisements

Always happy to hear from a fellow reader. Leave me a message and I will get back to you.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s