Where the Boys Aren't #15 - Part 4

She stood beside the open hood, grease streaking her forearm, wrench in hand. Two women walked in from the heat outside, laughter trailing behind them like a silk slip. They paused at the workbench, shared a look that wasn't hurried. Their mouths met, slow at first, then hungry. One slid her hand up under the other's skirt, fingers finding slick heat between her thighs. The taller one leaned against the counter and parted her legs, breath hitching. Soft sounds filled the quiet shop—wet fingertips, stifled moans, skin against denim. The mechanic watched a moment, then turned back to the engine. Her hands kept moving, steady, but her focus had started to slip.