I giggled, assuming it was my boyfriend, and kept singing. I reached my hand up to stroke his hair behind me. My other hand rested on his over my hip ...one. He moved my curly brown hair so he could kiss and lick my neck. He sharply bit my earlobe making me whimper. One of his hands worked it's way up to my chest. He began fondling and teasing my perky 36C breasts through my shirt. His left hand was slowly sinking down into the waist of my low-slung jeans. His other had slid under my shirt. Mom and Mrs. Thorn were still in the kitchen, having tea. He went out to the garage and turned on the light. The car was waiting patiently for him. He stood back to look at it for a few seconds. It was a 1966 GTO, his grandfather's. On the workbench, by the repair manual, were three two-barrel carburetors. It took him two weeks to strip them down, clean and reassemble them. Today was as good a day as any to put them back on.He raised the hood. The engine lurked beneath like a wild animal. More

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