Clarissa Tilbury was distressed: her beautiful brow furrowed in concern. Her beloved BMW convertible was unwell: it made strange noises, stranger even than the ones Clarissa had sometimes made in it. She loved to feel the power of it beneath her, a tickle of her right foot enough to make it growl and surge forward. But now she feared it was not reliable, and no woman to fear that power drain away at a crucial moment. She booked it into a garage – Honest Mike’s Reliable Repairs.
As she explained the problem, her hands anxiously twisted the strap of her fabulously expensive designer handbag. “I’m afraid I don’t really understand mechanical things…” she faltered, pressing her perfectly manicured hand to her chest apologetically. Mike noticed the polished nails and pale smooth skin, and contrasted it with his own oily hands.
“When I press for more power, I get a big knocking”
Mike nodded. He had had that very same problem himself, but there is never anyone around for a man to talk these things over with.
“it could be your big end…” he suggested, snatching a quick glimpse at it “How about if I take a look?”
“At my big end? If you think that’ll help” she giggled, blushing
“Let me get underneath for a moment. I find that works better for me”
Mike laid down on the hard concrete floor and wriggled underneath the car. The action dragged his jeans kneewards slightly, exposing hairy belly and the top of his underpants. Clarissa stared, mesmerised, at his toolbox
“I can’t see any leaks, no damp patches or anything” he reassured her.
“Can you see anything helpful?” Clarissa asked. Mike assured her that yes he had seen something useful (as Clarissa was wearing very tight jeans) and that he would sort her out if he could.
“Oh thankyou!” she cried “I can’t wait to get back in the driving seat, feeling my hair being rippled and my cheeks flushing. It’s just the best thing ever”
Mike rubbed his oily hands down the front of his jeans by way of distraction. “I’ll just get my overalls on then, love, then I’ll get to work. I’ll give her a thorough check while I’m down there, don’t you worry. Tappets, timing, I’ll grease her nipples and everything. You have a seat over there” He pointed to a grubby chair in the corner of the office.
Clarissa sat down in it, wondering if she would have a dirty bottom at the end of all this, while Mike got to work.
After a little while he returned. “I’m afraid it’s looking quite serious my dear. I don’t think I can finish in one go. Can she stay over?”
Clarissa looked upset “Oh no! I just thought you’d be able to sort her out quickly…you look like a man who could do that” she purred, like the engine of a well tuned Jaguar.
“I’ll certainly do my best” he said. “I’m known for my skills with a wrench, but this could be quite a big one”
“While she’s in, how about going over the bodywork?” Clarissa asked
“Would you like me to?” Mike asked, beads of sweat appearing through the grime on his forehead
Clarissa nodded, suddenly realising she found the smell of sump oil strangely alluring. She reached her soft, clean hand out to Mike, who looked confused, and then tenderly placed his spanner in it.
“Oh my! That’s huge! ” cried Clarissa, “and so heavy! How do you manage to hold that all day?”
Mike drew her to him, his huge spanner still between them, pressed between her swelling baps.
“I don’t want to get you dirty” he said, concern in his voice
“I am already very dirty” Clarissa murmured, sliding her hands over the spanner. It was hard and oily
“Take off my jeans, Mike” she whispered
He pulled away, shaking his head. “You’ve got this all wrong Miss Tilbury”
“Why?”
“I’m not wearing your jeans”
“Never mind, take off the ones I’m wearing. I’ve got oil on them”
“Do you want me to get them cleaned?” asked Mike anxiously
“No!” she gasped, grasping his well-muscled arms in her dainty hands, “I want you get oil all over me…”