"EXCUSE ME!" came an inpatient voice. "I've been ringing this bell for at least 5 minutes and I'm TIRED of being ignored!"
At the sound of the peevish interruption, Mike slid out from underneath the car he was working on. As he got to his feet, he started to wipe the grease from his hands on his pants and look for the source of irritation.
Standing in the doorway was a tall, dark haired business type dressed impeccably in an expensive suit. From the way he filled out his clothes it looked like he spent a lot of time at the gym. Light danced off his Rolex and what had to be a one-carat diamond stud in his ear. The dude just oozed money – and while he might be one hot piece of ass his manner suggested he was a total prick.
"Can't you read man," Mike asked? "The sign says 'no customers allowed in the garage area.' It's a safety thing."
"I'm surprised an oiled up grease monkey such as yourself can even read. And DON'T ever address me as 'man.' My name is Clifford Huntington and I'm here to pick up my car," came the haughty reply. "The receptionist told me it would be ready at 5:00. It is now 5:23 and no one is even at the desk to assist me!"
"I was right," Mike thought. "TOTAL prick."
Mike was used to the type. The ones who had money so they thought they could talk down to everyone and get what they wanted by being obnoxious and overbearing. Mike knew just what this situation called for, and he began to relish what was about to happen.
"Now take it easy Cliff," Mike drawled. "There's no need to be so hostile. Which one is yours and I'll make sure you're WELL taken care of."
"It's Clifford, not Cliff, and it's the red Porsche 911 Carrera. It cost me over $73,000 – more money than you'll EVER see - so it had better be ready to go."
Mike went and leaned against the Porsche in question. He folded his arms across his muscular chest and leered at Clifford. He knew he was his equal at least in the looks department.
His worn jeans clung to his hips and thighs, while his dirty white t-shirt strained to fit over his upper body. His black hair was caught up in band at the nape of his neck and when it was loose, grazed his shoulders. Mike had never had a problem capturing the attention of both women AND men and he wasn't about to start now. His hand strayed to his crotch and he grabbed himself through his pants.
"Yeah the Porsche. Nice ride CLIFF," Mike intoned. "Big money, big time car. You must be over compensating for something."
"What did you just say," Clifford asked in a menacing tone.
"I said 'over compensating.' Do I stutter? You may be loaded, but I have it where it counts!"
With that, Mike started to work on the button fly of his pants. Clifford stood gaping at him. His nostrils flared and a murderous gleam appeared in his eyes.
"I have no clue who you think you are or what in the hell you think you're doing, but I'll have your low-paying mechanic ass for this!"
"Oh someone will have someone's ass all right," promised Mike. "But I guarantee you won't have mine."
"Step away from my damn car before you damage the paint job you idiot. And don't ever speak to me that way again," yelled Clifford.
"Quit your bitchin' man," scoffed Mike, "or I'll have to shove my dick in your mouth to make you shut the hell up."
Clifford leapt across the garage and lunged at Mike. The two were soon grappling with each other, trying to throw each other down and prove who was dominant. As they wrestled, Mike felt himself swell and thicken. Clifford noticed it too and quickly broke off.
"What in the hell," he asked? "Just what sort of game are you playing?"
"No games Cliff," Mike responded. "You money types think you're so superior. I'm here to prove to you that even the rich can't make up for certain areas that are – shall we say – lacking. That's why you wear the clothes you do and drive hot cars. It's because you got a little dick isn't it Cliff?"
Clifford stared silently at Mike, then the edges of his mouth curled up in a semblance of a smile.
"I get it," he mused. "Why don't you just cut through the bullshit and admit you want a taste of one of the finer things in life. And I don't need to overcompensate. I have it ALL!"
With that Clifford undid his trousers and let them fall. His silk boxers strained as his now excited rod begged for release. Clifford reached down and freed himself, holding himself proudly for Mike's inspection.
"Not bad Cliff. That has to be what? About 8 inches? Pretty thick too. Yeah Cliff, not bad at all. But I still got ya beat!"
Mike now totally undid his jeans, exposing himself fully for Clifford's perusal.
Clifford's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets and his mouth opened and closed like a fish. If Mike weren't so worked up he would have actually laughed.
