GTO

College

This is the first story that I have written. It is a little long because I want to introduce the character. There will be several stories about her, so I want to make sure that you have a good understanding of who she is, and what her motivations are. I hope you like her.

*****

Fuck! This has been a long month. Client meetings, Design meetings, meetings with contractors, design reviews, more client meetings bringing up redesigns, meetings with the partners, performance reviews for the new engineers, and on, and on, and on. Being the Founding Partner of an engineering firm can really be a pain in the ass sometimes. When I haven’t been working at my “real job” I’ve been in my shop upgrading the suspension on my 1971 Corvette. With all the long hours at my firm and in my personal auto shop, it has really taken a toll on my sex life. Adding to this misery, my VERY Personal Assistant had a family emergency and needed to take an extended leave of absence. I can’t even get my “afternoon break”, if you know what I mean. All this probably explains the nervous faces when I walk into a meeting room with my junior engineers. Finally, I get a break. Friday evening! This is the first weekend I have had free in over a month. Damn, I really need to relax.

Now that you know my frame of mind, I should probably tell you a little about myself. You are probably thinking right now that I am a man – typical stereotype. You would be wrong. I am a 42-year-old woman. My name is Gail. Gail Theresa O’Malley. GTO. Remember that. It might make sense later. I am 5 feet 6 inches tall, weigh approximately 120 lbs., hypnotic emerald green eyes, flaming red hair that reaches to the center of my back, and legs that go for miles. No matter how busy I am, I still manage to spend at least an hour a day in my home gym. Personally, I think my best feature is my tight ass and miles long legs, but it seems that most guys (and a fair number of women) tend to drool over my 38D breasts. Let me tell you, trying to slide under a car with those things can be a real challenge.

You may be curious about me working on my own car, since that is not typically what a successful female engineer would normally do. This is true. My dad was a very successful auto mechanic with his own shop. Mom was a mechanical engineer. Both my parents really made an effort to explain to me what they did in their jobs. I ended up having a knack for mathematics, and I would spend countless hours on weekends working on cars with my dad while I was growing up. By the time I was 10 years old, I could rebuild a carburetor practically blindfolded. Mom also taught me the basic physics of engineering in the evenings while she was working on one project or another at home. Unfortunately, mom died in a car accident caused by some stupid drunk driver when I was 11 years old, so from then on it was just me and dad. Dad made a pretty decent living on his own, but because of a really good life insurance from mom, we were pretty well set. Dad did date occasionally, but he never really seemed overly interested in it. I think he just did it because I would mention to him that he needed to get out of the house occasionally.

With mom gone, I really didn’t have a female role model to teach me the finer points of being a lady. I grew up more of a tomboy wearing jeans and tee-shirts, and working on cars. When I turned 15, I went to work at my dad’s shop on weekends and during breaks in school. I was pretty much an outcast in high school because I didn’t fit in with any of the cliques. I was a girl, so the gearheads really didn’t take me seriously. Obviously, I was not feminine enough for the prissy popular girls. I never got into sports, because that would take time away from working on cars with my dad. And I found the nerds to be boring. Dad did insist that I focus on my studies, and he would insist that all my homework was done correctly before he would let me help him in the shop. Truth be told, I actually liked doing my schoolwork, and, because of the work ethic instilled in me early by my parents, I strived to always be at the top of the class.

It should be obvious that I didn’t have many friends in high school. I was pretty much a loner. I was also usually pretty laid back until I was pushed too far. That would happen occasionally. Some cheerleader would start making comments about me, and when I didn’t retaliate she would escalate the bullying. Eventually, she would go a step too far by pushing me in the hallway, knocking the books out of my hands, or throwing something at me. Big mistake! Working on cars can really strengthen you. Lifting transmissions, torqueing head bolts, and carrying engine components around the machine shop can really build some muscles. So, there I would be with the crying prissy cheerleader in the principal’s office. I never really got in trouble, usually just a warning about bitch-slapping her. I’m pretty sure that the principal knew what was really going on, because he would dismiss me, then bahis firmaları talk to the other girl for a few minutes longer. The other girls would avoid me after that.

Dad and I had been working on a really sweet 1969 GTO that apparently belonged to some really important client. He told me the guy bought it in decent condition and brought it over, so dad could really build it up. Cost really wasn’t a big issue. Let me tell you, we really went to town on that thing. Built up big block 455 engine, Borg Warner 4-speed manual transmission, 4.11 locking differential, well – too much to list. Let’s just say that this beautiful machine would be just as much at home on the drag strip as it was on the street. On my 16th birthday, dad revealed who the customer was. ME!! Wow!! Any wonder that my favorite care would be a GTO? This care was ME! Now some of you may be thinking that this is too much car for a new driver, and you would be correct. Fortunately, I was not a new driver at that point. You see, besides being a mechanic, dad was also a regular on the Friday night drag races at the local strip. He started quietly letting me make runs down the drag strip when I was 14. I got the hang of handling those powerful cars pretty quickly. Dad even taught me the finer points of drag racing during those years, so I was pretty comfortable handling that car by the time I actually got my driver’s license.

About 6 months after getting my license, I was out cruising the main drag in town when a really sweet ’70 Chevelle pulls up beside me. The guy looks over at me and starts going off on how crappy Pontiacs are. He says that GM uses the Chevy rejects to sell to idiots under the Pontiac brand. Look, insult me all you want, but NEVER rag on my car! Of course, I reply that a Shovel is only good for scooping up crap. He replies that obviously I have no idea what I am talking about and need to be taught a lesson. I then challenge him to back that up with a race. Laughing at me, he responds that he doesn’t waste his time racing for free suggesting that we race for Pink Slips. Smiling, I happily agree. I won’t bore you with the details, but I was nice enough to give him cab fare after he signed the title over to me and dropped the car off at my dad’s shop.

The next morning, I was able to come up with a plausible story about helping someone out with car trouble that night and we now had a new customer. I even managed to sell it a few day later without my dad knowing. I realized what a rush that was taking cars from arrogant fools. I started getting excited every time I saw a nice car driving around, and soon found myself prowling for suckers. After about the 4th time “finding a broken-down car on the road and getting a new customer” dad pretty much figured it out. He gave me a stern lecture about my behavior, then enrolled me in a professional drag racing class at the local drag strip. I started racing for real on weekends, and I did pretty good. I won more than I lost. Turns out, I had a knack for drag racing.

That went on for a couple of years until the summer before my senior year of high school. Yeah, I turned 18 the summer before my senior year. I’m not going to get into it here, but there was a reason I started school a year late. Anyway, just as soon as summer break started after my junior year, dad called me into the living room for a talk. He told me that he was proud of the person I had become, but was concerned about the lack of a female role model to teach me about being a woman. He said that he had discussed it with my Aunt Elizabeth (Mom’s younger sister) and they had agreed that I would spend the summer with her in Boston. No cars, no racing, no mechanics. I protested. I pleaded, I cried. I begged. All to no avail. I was going, and that was that! Dad actually laughed when I offered to race him for it. He politely declined, saying that it was already decided, and he was not going to change his mind. So that summer, I grudgingly went to Boston. Let me tell you, after a couple of VERY interesting confrontations during the first two weeks (Apparently Aunt Elizabeth is really good at hiding her true persona from the rest of the family) it became a really educational summer. I’m sure if dad really knew who Aunt Elizabeth was behind the classy reserved exterior she showed to the family, he would have freaked out and forbade me to ever associate with her, but that is for another story. I came back home a true lady – and a very good seductress. I will leave that and my new adventures during my senior year of high school for another time.

Anyway, after I graduated high school, I had enough scholarship offers to end up following in my mom’s footsteps and get a degree in Mechanical Engineering. Then I forged my own path and continued on to earn a PhD, in Mechanical Engineering as well. While I did use my engineering skills on creating wicked fast cars, that was really just for my own hobby. I eventually went to work on pipeline systems and high rise commercial kaçak iddaa office buildings. I eventually started my own consulting firm and became pretty successful. Successful enough that I could purchase a really nice house – more of a mansion – on enough land that I built my own shop to indulge in my favorite hobby, Classic American Muscle Cars. Good old American Heavy Metal. These vehicles are the epitome of automotive innovation. Powerful, awesome looks, fast, and exhilarating to drive. Foreign cars just don’t have it (except for the higher end Supercars and the Datsun 280Z – I have a couple of Z-cars that I enjoy driving occasionally too).

So, now you know all about me and where I was coming from that night. One, I was horney. Two, I was in a really bitchy mood. Three, I was needing to blow off some steam. Since, as I said above, my normal daily driver was out of commission, I was driving my trusty GTO. Yep, the GOAT my dad gave me for my 16th birthday. Of course, it had been upgraded significantly throughout the years. It was always my favorite, so I had used every bit of my engineering and mechanical knowledge on it to make it exceedingly fast and powerful. I was on my way home from work and decided to stop at the local liquor store for a case of my favorite wine, as I was low at home. I was planning on calling one (or more) of my little playthings over for a night of debauchery and needed to stock up.

As I pulled the GOAT into a parking space, I noticed a small group of kids (late teens, early 20’s) gathered around a couple of euro-sport street racer cars. You know the type – Hondas, Mitsubishis, Nissans… Nothing worth a second glance at – although a couple of the girls did look kind of hot. As I got out and started walking towards the entrance to the store, one of the guys calls over to me and says, “Nice car – for and American Dinosaur.”

SERIOUSLY???? Did he just say that? Yes, I know I should have just ignored him and kept on walking. That would have been the mature thing to do, but you already know my frame of mind and personality. Plus, he just insulted my car. I stopped, turned on the balls of my 5″ stilettos, and started to saunter towards him. It was a pretty warm night, so I was wearing a figure hugging dress that ended about 4 inches above my knee, and a garter with stockings underneath. My mind immediately went into Predator mode. I looked over the target that I was about to educate in the science of humiliation. He looked like he was probably an upperclassman at the local college. Pure frat boy. Early 20’s, about 5′ 11″, 200ish pounds, blonde hair, and a decent build. He was standing next to a modified Mitsubishi street racer with his arm around a pretty little blonde babe about the same age as him. Standing next to him was a nerdy looking kid a couple of years younger than him looking a little nervous. Sauntering up to him I said, “you really should show a little more respect to superior machines that run on real fuel instead of rice.”

The smug grin suddenly disappeared from his face. “I eat those old, heavy junkyard rejects for lunch”, was the reply.

About that time, the nerdy looking kit whispered something into his ear nervously. The nerdy kid had been really focusing on my GTO for a bit. My prey just blew him off with a “whatever!” and a wave of his hand. Fratboy then asks, “does your boyfriend know that you borrowed his car?”

“Does yours?” I reply.

I’m kind of surprised I didn’t see steam coming from his ears at that. Nerd kid, still taking looks at my GOAT, says, “Jimmy, just let it go.”

Jimmy (Fratboy) waves him off dismissively and responds, “Care to back that up by running them for Pinks?”

Nerd kid yells, “Jimmy, Don’t!!”

I should mention at this point that, while I deliberately kept my GTO’s lines as close to stock as possible, if you know what to look for it becomes rather obvious that she is a real fast race car underneath. Apparently, nerd boy knows what to look for.

Looking disdainfully at the hunk of recycled beer cans beside him I explained that I had absolutely no interest in acquiring his beer can on wheels, but perhaps he could come up with something that would really excite me. He responded with me putting out for him when I lost. I just laughed at him telling him that I don’t do guys that have girlfriends because I don’t need the drama of a jealous girlfriend stalking me. He looks over at Nerd Boy and responds, “Well, this is my little brother. He is a virgin, so how about you fuck him when you lose?”

I pretended to consider that for a moment (I had actually jumped at the idea internally) before answering, “And what do I get when I blow your doors off?”

“Name it!”

“OK. After I humiliate you and your Japanese scrap metal, Blondie there beside you comes home with me.”

WOW! The looks of shock that produced was really rather entertaining.

Fratboy looked at me questioning me and said, “I thought you didn’t do people that kaçak bahis were in a relationship.”

“No”, I responded, “I said I don’t do boys who are in a relationship. I never said anything about girls.”

After some semi-quiet whispered discussions between Jimmy and his girlfriend, she not really being in favor of the idea, she agreed.

After the details were worked out, I went back to my car and changed from my heels into a pair of racing shoes that I keep in the back seat. Nerd boy noticed this and seemed to get even more nervous. He whispered something to blondie, and she quickly turned to look at me with a look of fear on her face. I followed Jimmy and his friends to a deserted two-lane road on the outskirts of town. Blondie and Nerd boy rode to the finish line with most of the rest of the kids, leaving a couple of them to start the race. A cute little brunette stepped up to be the starter, and, just to have a little fun, I gave her my thong to use as the starters flag. She looked a little surprised – especially when I told her that I would be back next week to retrieve them – and her.

After lining up side-by-side, she counted down from Three, Two, One, and swung the “flag” down. At Two, I brought my engine to 4,000 on the tach. As soon as her arm dropped, I released the clutch. My back tires began to break traction, but still propel me forward under about 2 G’s of acceleration. Fratboy’s car leaped forward as well. As I was just about to redline in first gear, I heard a slight change in sound from Fratboy’s car. The fool just hit his NOX system. Really? Sure, he was slightly behind me, but that was a sign of panic. I power shifted to second as he passed me. He stayed slightly ahead of me through second gear. Shifting into third gear, I hit the power band and started to surge forward. Just as I pulled even, Fratboy shifted and pulled ahead again. We were three quarters of the way down the strip when I went to fourth gear and pulled even with him. I looked over at him. When he looked back, I smiled, winked, wiggled my finger to wave by-by, then reached down and pressed my NOX button with my thumb. I was smirking as I looked in my mirror at his headlights as I crossed the line.

After crossing the line, I slowed and made sure that Fratboy wasn’t going to something stupid and hit my car, then turned around and made my way back to the finish line where blondie was. Getting out of the car, I changed back into my heels and sauntered my way over to my prize. Looking her directly into her eyes and seductively rubbing her ass I asked, “So, are you ready to honor the bet?”

Looking around nervously at the stares of her friends, she really didn’t have much choice. Racers are notoriously honorable when it comes to paying up. Anyone who welshes on a race is pretty much blackballed, so it was either honoring her commitment or losing her friends and the standing she had. Apparently, Fratboy was top dog there, so not going with me would have been really devastating to her position. She looked at me, lowered her eyes and nodded her head. “Get in the car Sweet Shorts”, I said. She sighed with resignation and slowly walked over to my car and got in.

I looked over to Nerdboy who was having a rather heated discussion with Fratboy and called out, “Hey Studley, are you really a virgin?”

Nerdboy looked over at me and turned as red as Santa’s suit and replied, “Yeah.”

“Then get your ass over here and get in the car”, I commanded.

“But you won”, Was his reply.

“Teaching moment. When you make a bet, always make sure that if you lose, it was something you would do anyway” was my response. “I was going to fuck you even if we didn’t race.”

The look on Fratboy’s face was priceless as Nerdboy ran over and got in the back seat of my car. With a wink, I blew a kiss at Fratboy and turned to get into my car. As I buckled in and started the car I asked for their names, since calling them Blondie and Nerdboy seemed a little insulting to them.

“I am Kayla, and he is Danny”

“Nice to meet you Kayla and Danny. My name is Gail, but I imagine you will be calling me something else before the night is over. If you need to call anyone to let them know you won’t be home tonight, you better do it now.”

After a couple minutes of phone calls, I looked over at Kayla and asked, “So Kayla, have you ever been with a woman before?”

She said she hadn’t, and really had never been attracted to girls. After a few more minutes of questioning, I found out that she had been with a few guys, but got the distinct impression that she had never been satisfied. She nervously glanced back at Danny and asked if she was going to have to have sex with him, as that would be weird screwing her boyfriend’s brother. I assured her that she didn’t have to do that if she didn’t want to, but I would definitely not prevent it from happening if they both ended up wanting to. She was definitely nervous that I would force her into doing things that she really didn’t want to do. I assured her that that was not the case. We were just going back to my house to relax, and as long as she just relaxed, she would not be doing anything that she REALLY didn’t want to do.

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