Jerry paced, waiting for his keys. The owner, Bill, had told him his car would be ready this morning. Unfortunately, Bill had been late getting in and no one else was able to take his money. He couldn't understand that. It wasn't that hard to take down credit card information.
Turning to pace back again, Jerry stopped, feeling eyes on him. He looked up to see one of the mechanics staring at him. His expression wasn't friendly. The way he held a tire in each hand combined with the almost angry glare gave Jerry the creeps.
What was the guy's problem? He'd brought in his car. He just wanted to take it and go. It wasn't as though he was getting in this guy's way or telling him what to do. Jerry broke eye contact and looked at his shoes as he paced in the same path, reaching the wall.
He was pressed into it from behind.
"Get off me!" he shouted.
"That's not what you want," he said, lips on Jerry's ear. The man rubbed his crotch into Jerry's backside and Jerry's breath caught. How long since Oliver left him? Too long. "Is it?" The man asked again.
"No," Jerry admitted. "I want my keys, and I want to take you for a ride."
"I'll be doing the riding," he said, then backed up and turned away.
"What's your name?" Jerry called, watching the muscles in his back ripple as he picked up a second pair of tires.
"Charlie."
Want to read other stories based on the same picture? Find the complete list on Kharisma Rhayne's blog.
Want to read other stories based on the same picture? Find the complete list on Kharisma Rhayne's blog.
