Chapter 8

The sight rouses Terrence to the brink of release. One final thrust and he comes, too, driving deep into the mechanic as he feels the hot rush of his semen stymied by the condom. Without pulling free, he hugs Jimmy close, holding him tightly.

“Yes,” Jimmy sighs, his voice weak now, shuddering and spent. He lets himself be folded into Terrence’s embrace, his face turning towards Terrence’s, hungry for another taste. As their lips meet in a tender kiss, Jimmy whispers, “God, yes.”

* * * *

About an hour later the engine’s idling, unbearably loud in the garage, but the knocking has stopped and the motor purrs like a kitten. Jimmy’s hands and chest are streaked with grease, and his unbuttoned jeans are the only reminder of their mid-morning tryst. “That should about do it,” Jimmy says, leaning into the open window of the Mercedes. “Nothing a new set of spark plugs couldn’t fix.”