Afternoons with the Rugged Mechanic
Chapter 2
But Jeffery only came home once a week, and even then, he lasted less than a minute.
Every time, he just rushed through it.
Not only did I feel no pleasure, but I also had to manage his feelings—pretending to be satisfied and faking moans—afraid that I might hurt his ego if I didn’t.
—
After popping open the car’s hood, the mechanic went inside to grab some tools.
With nothing to do, I noticed a white coolant tank next to the engine releasing steam, the pressure almost lifting the cap off.
Thinking it might help to cool it down, I walked over and lifted the small cap.
“Watch out!”
In that instant, a dark figure rushed over and pulled me to the ground.
A stream of boiling coolant burst out from the tank, gushing for almost a full minute before it finally subsided.
I was in shock from the sudden incident, and it wasn’t until the mechanic helped me up that I came to my senses.
To protect me, the scalding liquid had sprayed all over his arm.
Seeing his skin turning red and blistered, I choked back tears and apologized, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just saw the steam coming out of the cap…”
But he seemed completely unfazed.
“It’s just a minor burn—no big deal.”
“But I’ll need your help putting on some ointment, okay, Missy?”
He flashed me a playful grin, his tone clearly teasing.
He looked like he was in his early twenties.
Given our age difference, his flirty tone made it clear he was teasing, but not in a disrespectful way.
I followed him up to the second floor.
The room that came into view was neat and well-organized, with a faint, fresh scent of soap lingering in the air. It was clear he liked to keep things clean, which made me warm up to him even more.
But while I wasn’t paying attention, he quietly locked the door behind us.
“Missy, I hurt my arm, so I can’t shower by myself. How about giving me a hand?”
He suddenly leaned in close, backing me up against the bed, his warm breath brushing against my face.
“What... what are you doing?”
I clutched my rapidly beating heart, flustered and unsure of what to do, but there was a small part of me that was curious: Was he really asking me to help him shower? Looking at his strong, muscular build, if I were single, I might actually consider it...
Before I could even think of a response, he started laughing.
“You’re so adorable, Missy. I was just messing with you, and you took it seriously?”
“Besides, why would I trouble you with something like that?”
I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but he seemed to put extra emphasis on those last few words.
I let out a breath, unsure if I felt relieved or a little disappointed.
“My name’s Stanley Lewis, but you can just call me Stan.”
As he spoke, Stanley casually pulled off his tank top and walked shirtless into the bathroom.
It wasn’t really a full bathroom—just a small area sectioned off with a semi-transparent curtain.
From where I stood, I could just make out Stanley’s silhouette through the semi-transparent curtain, his body barely visible, adding an unexpected touch of intrigue.
“Hey, I forgot my shorts. Could you pass them to me?”
Blushing, I grabbed a pair of shorts from the bed and handed them over.
Whether it was on purpose or not, Stanley’s fingers brushed against my palm as he took the shorts, sending a jolt of electricity through me. The desire I had just managed to suppress flared up again, and my chest tightened with anticipation.
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