Darcy twisted the oil pan nut carefully, feeling for the end of the threads. It should have come loose by now. She ducked under the car for a better look, but the shadows obstructed her view. Her left hand reached to adjust the clip-on light. Instead she caught the cord by accident, knocking the light from its perch. Reaching for it, her fingers slipped off the nut, which thudded into the oil pan, viscous black fluid streaming from the engine over her hand.

"Goddammit," she screamed, burning her fingers on the bulb guard as she steadied the light. She clenched the toasted fingers into a fist tight to her chest, while shaking her right hand off over the waste oil tub. She looked around, spying a roll of shop towels atop the tool chest behind the lift. She ducked out to reach them, only to clip the back of her head on the fender. She grunted, right hand reflexively clutching at the bump, splashing motor oil through her hair and against her neck.

"Fuck," she snarled, eyes watering, "what is wrong with me!" She snatched up the towels, rubbing her hands and scratching at her hair and neck. It was a rhetorical question. She knew the answer. She just didn't want to admit it.

A sharp knock on glass in the adjacent room startled her. She glanced up at the giant analog clock on the back wall. Shit. She was early. Darcy looked herself over. What a mess. Rips in her jeans, grease on her tee-shirt, now oil on her hands and face and hair. So much for making a good impression.

Darcy rounded the corner into the customer service lobby. Outside the front door stood an attractive blonde in a white fleece jacket, waiving to her through the glass. Blair Hart. Channel 9's own bright-eyed, fresh-faced afternoon meteorologist. She had been Darcy's cross-the-hall neighbor for about a year now. They exchanged pleasantries whenever they ran into each, but neither would have considered the other more than an acquaintance.

Nonetheless, that limited contact was more than enough for Darcy to develop an aching crush on Blair that she simply could not dispel. Of course, it was hopeless. Blair was everything Darcy wasn't; proper, and refined, and into men. But every time Darcy saw that sparkling smile through her television her stomach fluttered, her pussy hummed, and her mind strayed to some private places. So, when a desperate Blair asked her for help with her troublesome car, well..."

Darcy smiled, awkwardly. Not what she'd intended. She had yet to say a word and it was already a disaster. Wrapping the towels around her hands she shuffled out from behind the desk and unlocked the door. A gust of cool fall air swept in with the blonde as she entered.

"Hey I'm sorry," Blair apologized, "I know you said it wouldn't be ready until later but my ride was leaving the station early so I had to tag along. I hope that's okay."

"Yeah that's fine," Darcy replied. "I'm almost done. Once the oil is finished draining, I just need to fill it back up, replace the brake caliper and fit the wheel back on. Shouldn't be more than an hour."

"Thank you soooo much," Blair cooed, "you're a life saver!"

Darcy blushed. Then pursed her lips, annoyed with herself for blushing. "Do you...wanna hang out here? I can switch the TV on."

Blair scanned the room. "Can I...go back and watch?"

Darcy shrugged. "Sure...I guess."

"I mean...I don't want to get you in trouble or anything."

"No, no, it's cool, really. You might want to leave your jacket up here though."

Blair unzipped the fleece, shrugged it from her shoulders. Darcy appraised her, soaking in the fuzzy grey cowl sweater, cobalt blue skirt and calf-high grey boots. Blair plucked a hanger from the rack and zipped the jacket onto it. She looked taller on television. Slimmer in person. Darcy smiled. "Do you want a soda or something?"

"Diet, if you have one."

Darcy nodded, motioned for Blair to follow.

They weaved through the break room, Darcy snagging a soda from the fridge as she passed. Emerging into the garage Blair paused, impressed by the volume of the space and the amount and complexity of the machinery. She ogled the tool chests and parts cubes, gingerly poking the sockets arranged by size in the half-open drawers. Stopping next to Darcy at the hoist lifting her car she giggled as she peered underneath.

"This is way cooler than my job," she said, following the now narrow stream of oil from the engine into the collector.

Darcy cocked her head, bewildered. "What do you mean? You're on television every day. You get to wear nice clothes to work. I have brake dust on my shirt and 10W30 in my hair."

Blair laughed. "I'm a weather girl in California. There are only so many ways to say sunny and 72."

Darcy smiled. "Fair enough." She lifted the caliper from the cart in front of her. "I have to get this put back together," she said, waving her free hand toward the shop. "Make yourself at home."

Blair slipped behind Darcy to the open floor, brushing her ass as she passed. A bolt of electricity shot through Darcy's hips. She gripped the caliper, froze in place. She turned her head just slightly, following Blair with her eyes. But Blair seemed not to have noticed. Darcy took and deep breath to steady herself and returned to the brakes.

Blair wandered the shop, gazing about, the soles of her boots clicking on the concrete floor. Darcy tried to concentrate on fitting the brake line. But her attention wandered. She kept stealing glances; of Blair's hair cascading over her shoulders, her smooth bare legs disappearing beneath her skirt. She was never going to finish this job. Tightening the clamp, she was startled by a gasp from the corner by the overhead door. She whipped her head around to see Blair running her hand along the cowling of a black and blue motorcycle.

"Is this your bike?" Blair marveled.

"Yeah," Darcy replied, getting back to work.

"What is it? I've never seen one like it."

"It's a Zero SR/F. It's electric."

"Electric? Like...you plug it in? Like a Tesla?

"Yeah. Like a Tesla." Darcy spun the ratchet, tightening the caliper bolts. "Do you ride?"

"Ride? Sometimes. Drive, no. I want to learn though."

"Well, if you can promise me some decent weather, I could take you for a ride sometime."

Darcy bit her tongue. She probably shouldn't have said that. What if Blair thought she...then things would just be weird for the next hour. She sighed to herself. "I mean, if you want," she added. "No big deal."

There was no response. Only the soft shuffle of heels across the floor in her direction. Darcy's heart sank. She always ruined everything. She closed her eyes, waiting for the awkward reprimand. Instead, a hand cupped her shoulder.

"Why don't you take me now," Blair whispered.

Darcy's heart stopped. She gripped the rotor to steady herself. Swallowed hard, trying to think of something to say. "Well...I...have to finish this," she stammered finally, her eyes down.

Blair tugged, twisting Darcy round to face her. She traced the edge of Darcy's face with her fingers. "The car can wait. I don't think I can." She leaned in, closer, until her lips brushed Darcy's. Trembling, Darcy pulled away. She held up her free hand, caked with dust and grease.

"I'm a little dirty," she said sheepishly.

Blair stepped back. She looked Darcy up and down, lust burning in her eyes. "You are," she replied, "aren't you." In one fluid motion, she peeled the sweater off over her head and looped it over the hoist beside her. Her breasts heaved in the C-cups of her black lace bra. She closed on Darcy again, bringing them nose to nose, eye to eye. She took Darcy's hand and wrapped it around her waist, pressing the grimy fingers against her skin. She smiled. "I like dirty."

Blair kissed Darcy on the mouth so hard it hurt. Darcy dropped the ratchet, the socket chattering away across the floor. She grasped Blair with both hands, pulling her waist against her own. Blair shivered beneath the embrace. She freed an arm and worked it between them, squeezing Darcy's tits through her shirt. Darcy groaned, a bolt of pleasure shooting through her chest. Blair paused her kiss.

"Stop me if I'm hurting you," she said. Darcy responded, smushing her breasts into Blair's clutching fingers, planting her lips squarely on Blair's mouth. Blair sighed. With her free hand she grabbed a fistful of Darcy's copper curls and yanked her head back, exposing her neck to Blair's ravenous lips and tongue.

Her head swimming, Darcy fumbled with the clasp of Blair's bra. The blonde shimmied, trying to help, but the oil coating Darcy's fingers thwarted her attempts. Blair pushed herself back, splitting the clasp with a twist of her fingers and throwing the bra to the floor. Her breasts were near perfect hemispheres, upturned at the areola, nipples pointing slightly outward. Darcy gazed hungrily, thrilled by the sight, jealous of their size. Backing Blair against the hoist pole she cupped them in her hands, feeling their weight, their firmness. She sucked a nipple into her mouth, rolled the other between her fingers.

Blair gasped, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth. "Harder," she growled, gripping the back of Darcy's head. Darcy squeezed, pinched the flesh between her teeth. "God yes," Blair hissed, "just like that." Darcy continued, alternating breasts, increasing her pressure, covering Blair's chest in gritty black handprints.

Breathing heavily, Blair pushed Darcy back, holding her at arm's length, her eyes dancing in the warm task lighting. She clutched the hem of Darcy's tee shirt, pulling it up and off over her head. Darcy stood still in her crimson sports bra.. "You are so fucking beautiful," she whispered. Darcy blushed, still disbelieving of what was happening. At any moment she expected to wake up slumped in the driver's seat of the car with a wrench in her lap and cold coffee in the cup holder. She felt hot breath on her neck again. Lilac and vanilla filled her nostrils, two hands gripped her waist.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?" Blair exhaled. Not waiting for an answer, she walked Darcy back toward the back of the shop, slamming her against a massive rolling tool chest. She slipped seductively down Darcy's body to her knees before her. Darcy's heart fluttered as the button of her jeans popped open. Her pussy buzzed as Blair's fingers hooked over her waistband at each hip and dragged the denim and underwear together down to her feet. Blair looked up and smiled. "A natural redhead." She parted Darcy's knees and wedged her face between her trembling thighs.

Darcy gasped, gripping the edges of the tool chest. Blair's tongue flitted across her labia, darting between the folds and drawing up over her clit. She thrust into Blair's face, rocking slightly, front to back, high on the sensations. She tried to keep quiet, but each flick of her clit made a squeak in her throat, and it was no use trying to hold back.

Blair looked up, her cheeks glistening with Darcy's juices. "More?" she asked? Darcy nodded, speechless. Blair rose to her feet. She took Darcy by the waist and turned her to face the wall. A hand on her back she pushed her forward, bending her at the waist until her tits flattened against the top tray of the tool chest. Blair nudged Darcy's feet apart forming a narrow, inverted V. Darcy was suddenly nervous, feeling so exposed, her treasure chest just...waiting. The anticipation was killing her.

Blair removed her hand and slapped it across Darcy's ass. The smack echoed off the block walls of the shop, through Darcy's ears and into her skull. A yelp escaped her chest before her hand clamped over her mouth to stifle it. She turned over her shoulder, caught the lustful gleam in Blair's eyes as she squatted to her haunches. Blair's fingers gripped her cheeks, pulling them gently apart. Sighing with desire, she buried her face in Darcy's snatch.

Darcy writhed under Blair's attention. She savored the softness of the lips on her pussy, the texture of the tongue over her clit, the pressure of the fingers into her cheeks. She wriggled her ass, nudging Blair deeper into her wetness. The grip tape scratched at her nipples with each thrust, but the pain only enhanced the oncoming orgasm. She felt it building, waves of ever-increasing amplitude crashing against a rocky shore. Her head was swimming. Intoxicated with the scent of perfume, oil and sex. Blair's tongue slipped effortlessly about her nethers, from the tip of her clit to the rosebud of her ass, lingering there a moment. Probing, Testing. Her pleasure overtook her. The tsunami hit the shore.

She exploded over Blair's mouth, shaking, shuddering, losing control. Her juices slicked over Blair's cheeks and chin and seeped down her inner thighs. Her legs turned to jelly, knees buckled, setting Blair on her ass and nearly collapsing on top her. Now and then she remembered to breathe.

Clutching the edge of the tool chest she turned herself to face her lover. Blair sat stunned on the concrete, legs apart, her skirt sluffed up around her waist. She looked up at Darcy, mouth open, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Her face was flush, eyes wide. Darcy stared at her, heart beating through her chest. Never in her life had she wanted anything more. Legs still weak she willed herself straight and took the step toward Blair, standing over her. Lust dripped from her lips as she whispered, "Stop me if I'm hurting you."

Darcy clutched a fistful of Blair's golden blonde hair and dragged her to her feet. Blair's shock turned immediately to wanton obedience, submitting completely to the redhead's will. Darcy stripped the now grease-stained skirt down over Blair's ass to the floor. She shoved her against the tool chest. Gripping her hips she jerked Blair up, setting her ass squarely onto the top tray. She pushed her torso away and hoisted her legs up over her shoulders. Blair bucked her hips toward Darcy, but Darcy smacked her mons back down to the tray. Blair bit her lip, the sting only seeming to rev her engine.

Her eyes on Blair's, Darcy placed the heel of her hand flat against the sopping wet fabric covering Blair's pussy. Pressing down she made short tight circles, rubbing the fabric over Blair's labia and clit. The blonde groaned, pawing her own breasts and twisting her nipples. Darcy's circles grew smaller, quicker, shortening Blair's breaths between rounds. "Please," she begged, "don't stop. Don't stop."

Darcy pulled her hand away, raising a finger to her lips. Blair moaned and Darcy smacked her sex again. Blair yelped, covering her mouth to hold back the other sounds trying to escape. A thought popped into Darcy's head. She rolled Blair's panties up off her legs, scrunched them up in her hand and pushed forward, stuffing them into Blair's mouth.

"Do you like the way you taste," she growled. Blair nodded vigorously, careful not to speak. Darcy licked Blair's wetness off her fingers. "Mmm. I think I do too." She gripped Blair's calves and pushed her knees up against her tits, leaving her pussy completely exposed. "More," she asked. Blair nodded again, her entire body trembling. Darcy looked down at Blair's slick bald snatch. Licking her lips, she dove in.

Blair hooked her arms around her knees, holding her legs up and apart, offering Darcy room to work. Her tongue darted in and out, down and around, slurping, suckling, smothering her pussy. She moaned through her panties, peering down between her breasts at the redhead setting her alight. Darcy clutched at Blair's buttocks, scrubbing whatever grease remained on her fingers off on the blonde's skin. She shifted, slightly higher. Focusing her tongue on Blair's clit, she pushed two fingers deep into Blair's sodden vagina.

Blair jumped, surprised, and suddenly filled. A tremor shook her body, bearing down on Darcy's fingers. She spread her legs wider, wanting it deeper. Darcy obliged, adding a third finger, bumping her knuckles against Blair's labia as she sucked on her clit. She knew Blair was close. Her body betrayed her. Her quiver uncontrollable, her wetness flowing. Stroking deep Darcy scooped some out, smearing it liberally through the crack of Blair's ass. Rolling Blair's button with her thumb and tongue, Darcy purposefully slipped two fingers into Blair's anus.

Blair squealed, clutching at her calves, legs a shudder. She passed the point of no return. Her ass gripped Darcy's fingers, hips bucking against Darcy's fingers and tongue. Her pussy buzzed, spilling her cum over Darcy's face and into her mouth. Darcy kept stroking, continued licking, giving Blair no reprieve. The grip tape scratched against her ass, her fingernails bit into her skin, her throat tightened, muscles strained, the orgasm crushing her like a comet from the sky. Panting and groaning she squirmed free of Darcy's tongue and fingers and curled herself into a ball on top of the tool chest, trying to catch her breath.

Darcy straightened up, steadying herself on the edge of the chest. Her legs were still wobbly from her own orgasm. She lowered her face next to Blair's, brushing Blair's hair out of her eyes. The blonde was flush pink from the top of her head to the tips of her nipples. Her breath came short and shallow, her body shivered. Darcy fished the panties out of Blair's mouth and replaced them with her glistening fingers. Blair sucked them in immediately, savoring her own flavor. She started sobbing. At least that's what it sounded like?

"Are you okay?" Darcy whispered, genuinely concerned. Blair nodded vigorously. "I told you to stop me if I hurt you," Darcy added.

Blair popped Darcy's fingers out of her mouth. She interlaced their fingers and clutched them to her chest, pushing her other hand between her legs and cupping her pussy. "You didn't hurt me," she cooed. "I have never cum like that before. It was..." Her voice trailed off, loosing itself in her afterglow. Darcy Kissed her forehead.

"I need to finish the brakes so you can get home." She glanced around at Blair's grease-stained clothes strewn about, underwear hanging off the edge of the tool chest. "I'm sorry about your clothes," she added.

Blair laughed, admiring Darcy's handprints lingering on her breasts and thighs. "Fuck the clothes," she said. "I'll go like this." She pulled Darcy closer. "When you get back, come to my apartment. Help me get cleaned up."

Darcy smiled, her pussy tingling. Where did she put that fucking ratchet.