Eliza

My heart pounded as I tore down the broad boulevards of the main drag through town. I knew I was going over the speed limit and that it was only a matter of time before a cop pulled me over.

But I didn't care. The only thing on my mind was getting away. Making my escape.

My life depended on it.

The light changed red at the intersection ahead, small storefronts on both sides of me. I considered gunning the engine and blasting through the red light, but I quickly realized that this would draw even more attention to me. Maybe even send me crashing into a car coming the other way.

I slowed down and came to a halt, my fingers gripped on the steering wheel. As I sat still, I glanced to my left at the large glass front of a corner bank. I could see the reflection of the car perfectly, noting its garish hot pink color.

Ricky, my ex, had bought the car for me. He hadn't given me any say in the color, however. He'd gone with pink, telling me that he figured it was "girly." I'd always hated it, and even more, the color made me stick out like a sore thumb.

Even if I managed to make it out of town without Ricky finding out, all it'd take was for him to put out a call to his boys, telling them to look out for a hot pink car. With only one highway out of town, I'd be spotted for sure.

I needed to either ditch the car or change the appearance. As the red light went on, I weighed the pros and cons. Ricky'd put the car in my name when he'd bought it, and it and the belongings that I'd hurriedly stuffed into the trunk were the only things I now owned.

No, I had to keep the car. No matter where I ended up, I'd need it, and the few possessions I had, to start a new life. That meant I had to change the car's appearance. But how?

I drove on once the light turned green, keeping an eye open for anything that could help me.

Then I spotted it. Up ahead, on the left, was an autobody shop, the words "full-body paint jobs" written in gaudy letters on a plastic sign. That'd be it-I could have them do a quick paint job on the car, making it safe to drive out of town.

I pulled into the parking lot of the place; the two garage doors opened and I could see a team of men inside working on the cars within. I had no idea what to do-cars had always been Ricky's thing, not mine-and I hoped the stories of women going into car places and getting totally screwed weren't totally true.

The bell chimed as I stepped into the waiting room of the place. The room was small, the walls lined with plastic chairs, and a TV was in the upper corner, playing some daytime TV soap. The lights were harsh and the smell of paint was thick in the air.

At the counter was a man in his thirties, heavyset with a head of greasy black hair. He was dressed in a black and white jumpsuit that read "Vin's Auto" in small, clear letters. The employee looked me up and down as I entered, as if trying to figure out what he was in store for.

"Vin's Auto," he said in an accent that sounded like it was right out of Brooklyn. "How can I help you?"

"I need a paint job," I said. "For my car."

"Not for yourself?" he asked, letting out a barking laugh at his own joke.

"No," I said. "And I'm in a hurry."

The man raised his bushy dark eyebrows.

"In a hurry, huh?" he asked. "And what we working with here? You got a little scratch or something that you need taken care of?"

"No," I said. "I need a full paint job. For the whole car. And I need it done in the next couple of hours if you can."

His eyes went somehow even wider.

"Are you serious?" he asked. "Lady, I don't know what you think painting a car is like, but it's not a small fuckin' thing."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Painting a car's not like painting a wall or some shit. You want a quality job done-the only kind of job we do here-then it's not going to take a couple of hours, or be something we can do quickly on short notice."

He went on, and I felt my stomach tighten by the second.

"We take all the parts off the car-doors, fenders, the hood-and spray each part individually. We take our time, and we get it right. I'm the manager of this place, and no car's going off our lot with some third-rate shit."

I collapsed into the cheap plastic seat behind me.

"And you want a job like that done, we're going to need a few days' notice. It'll take at least a full day of work, too. Then there's the cost."

"What's that?" I asked. "A few hundred dollars?"

A second employee, also dressed in the same jumpsuit, was in the back, pouring himself a cup of coffee. The man at the counter and the man pouring the coffee shared a brief look before bursting out into laughter.

"Lady, you'd be looking at a few hundred dollars to take out a key scratch. For a whole car?"

He turned the computer at the counter and typed in a few keystrokes.

"What kind of ride you got?"

"That one out there," I said. "The hot pink one."

Both of the men came over to the window and looked at the car.

"Nice color," said the one with the coffee. "Might do that for my own ride."

More laughs. I was beginning to feel sick to my stomach.

"You got a sedan," he said. "Better than a van. Let me take a look and get you an estimate."

He stepped back behind the counter again and did some more typing. More anxiety welled in the pit of my stomach as I waited for him to come up with the estimate.

"Here's what you're looking at," he said, turning the computer monitor around to face me as I stood up and approached the counter.

"Five thousand dollars?" I asked. "Are you kidding?"

"Like I said-it's a hell of a process to do a full paint job on a car. And if you want it done fast, there's a premium for that too."

I didn't even have close to that in my account. Not even half of that. But I needed to get it done. If not, I was as good as caught.

"Isn't there any sort of discount you can do?" I asked, my voice shaking. "I really, really need this job done."

He laughed.

"You that desperate to get rid of that pink?" he asked. "I mean, it's not my first color choice, but it's not the worst thing in the world."

I placed my hands on the counter and hung my head, my curly red hair falling down on both sides of my face. Tears formed in my eyes.

I knew there was one thing left I could do, and it was something I'd never thought I'd say. I took a deep breath and spoke after the second man had taken his coffee and left the room.

"Listen," I said. "Maybe ... maybe there's something you and I could work out?"

I lifted my head and narrowed my eyes seductively.

"What do you mean 'work out'?" he asked. "I'm telling you-this is the best price I can do for what you want."

"No," I said, lowering my voice. "I'm asking if there's something I can do for you. Maybe something in the back office with the door shut."

The look of confusion on his face was replaced with one of realization.

"Oh-oh ..." he said, nodding slowly.

Then the hard expression returned to his face.

"Listen, lady," he said. "You're hot as hell-don't get me wrong. I'd love to take you out back and bend you over the boss' desk. But 5k for a nut isn't something I can do. It'd be the most expensive fuck of my life."

That was it. There was nothing more I could do.

"Please," I said, coming around the desk and getting close to the man, so close I could smell the paint on his skin. "I'll treat you really nice. You won't regret it for a second."

I glanced down and could see a small erection tenting the fabric of his jumpsuit.

"S-sorry," he said, clearly doing his best to resist temptation. "But the boss would send my ass out onto the street if I traded paint for pussy."

I was this close to reaching down and taking hold of his prick, hoping that his head would block out any sense he had left.

But before I could say or do anything else, the bell to the door chimed again. My head whipped over to see who'd just come in, and my jaw nearly dropped at the sight of who stood at the door.

The man who'd entered was tall, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. He was dressed in a sharp dark suit, a dark red pocket square on his chest. His hair was as dark as oil and slicked back over a face of fair skin. His eyes were a gorgeous blue, his nose was slim and strong, and his mouth was sensual and red. A wide, strong jaw and a cleft chin completed the look.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked. "And why the hell are you behind the counter of my fucking store?"

Chapter Two

Vin

Despite how fucking pissed I was, my eyes were locked onto the girl behind the counter. She had curly, fire-red hair and deep green eyes, her face a perfect heart-shape.

"You!" I said, pointing to the girl. "Out from behind the counter! Pronto!"

Her eyes wide, the girl did as I asked. And my dick only got harder when I was able to take a look at her body. She was slim but curvy, dressed in dark jeans that showed off the curves of her legs. Up top, she wore a white blouse that strained against her tits, a black bra visible through the fabric.

I had to take a second just to get my bearings.

"What the fuck are you doing, Stan?" I asked, turning my gaze to the manager of my auto body shop.

"Sorry, Mr. Romero," he said. "She and I were just going over an estimate and she, um, came around the corner to take a look at the screen."

I could tell the answer was bullshit, and I was going to get to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on.

"That pink thing out front yours?" I asked, sticking my thumb out behind my shoulder.

"Y-yes," she said. "And, um, we were just going over prices."

I shook my head, realizing that I was going to have to be dealing with two fucking liars today.

"Stan, get back on the floor," I said, shaking my head. "We'll talk later."

"Sure, boss," he said.

Stan was a good guy-talented as hell at his job and reliable. If he was lying so obviously, there was some shit going down that had him good and spooked.

Once Stan was out of the lobby, it was just me and the girl. She stared at me with that same shocked expression, her eyes wide like some kid who'd just gotten caught trying to sneak out past curfew.

"Okay," I said. "You here to get a paint job?"

She nodded quickly, her red curls bouncing up and down.

"I am," I said. "And I was just going over, um, payment plans with the owner."

I stuck my thumb into my chest.

"I'm the owner," I said. "Stan's the floor manager. You want to work out some kind of payment plan, you talk with me. But I'm getting the impression there's something more to the story than that."

She still looked guilty as hell, but she didn't say word.

I sighed.

"Come on," I said, pointing to the hallway leading to my back office. "Let's talk about this somewhere else."

I strode past her, the smell of her hair a nice contrast to the usual aromas in the air around here. She stepped quickly behind me, and once we reached the door to my office I opened it up and gestured for her to come in.

"Sit down," I said.

The office was small but stylish, just how I liked it. The desk was hand-carved oak, the chairs in front were dark brown leather, and black and white pictures of classic cars adorned the walls.

The girl slid into the seat, her ass sticking out in a very eye-catching way as she slid into the leather. I stepped around her and took a seat at the desk.

"Okay," I said, propping my feet up on the desk, my Italian leather shoes gleaming under the lights. "You want a paint job?"

"I do," she said. "But I ... I wasn't expecting it to be so much money."

"What'd Stan quote you?"

"Five thousand."

I nodded. "Sounds about right, especially since I'm getting the impression you want it done in a hurry."

She nodded and looked down.

"And what the hell was going on out there?" I asked. "You have a gun jammed in his ribs that I didn't see?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out I held up a finger.

"Tell me what you were doing. And no bullshit."

She took a deep breath, her breasts rising and falling. Damn, it was hard to stay focused on the matter at hand.

"I don't have 5k for the job. So ... I asked your manager if there was something else I could do for the work. Something ... more quid pro quo."

I raised my eyebrows. So that was it-this girl was trying to give up some ass to get a free job. A job for a job.

"And what did Stan have to say about this?"

"He said that it was too much work to trade for sex," she said, my cock twitching as she said the word "sex."

"Good boy," I said.

Old, honest Stan. I'd have to give him a little bonus for staying strong in the face of an offer like that.

"Now," I went on. "The next question on my mind is why the hell you're so desperate to get that car painted. That pink's ugly as hell, but you can't wait a day or two and not prostitute yourself for a discount?"

"It's not just a matter of not liking the color," she said. "I mean, I do hate it though."

"Then tell me," I said. "I'm the owner of this place, and if you want to work something out I'm the guy you want to be talking to."

"It's ... my boyfriend," she said, flicking her eyes back up to mine. "I'm trying to get away from him. And that car out there was a gift-in my name and everything. But the color is so noticeable that it's only a matter of time before he finds me."

I raised my eyebrows-not what I had been expecting. I'd figured she might just be a girl with loose morals, the type who'd suck a cock to save a couple thousand. Things were actually more desperate than that for her.

I was a little curious about just what was going on with this chick's boyfriend, but that didn't concern me.

She took a deep breath.

"And ... if you want to work something out with the cost," she said. "The offer still stands-the one that I made to your manager."

Now I was interested.

"Tell me exactly what you have in mind."

"I'll do whatever you want," she said. "If you can think of what ... I can do for you that'll be worth five thousand for the paint job, then I'll do it. I don't care-I just need to leave."

Five thousand was a lot of money. But the truth of the matter was that I wasn't relying on this shop for my income. It had ... other purposes. And the money I made from other ventures brought in far, far more than a few thousand on a daily basis. This chick was offering up something worth way more than a few thousand bucks.

And hey, I'd even be doing her a favor.

"How about this," I said. "I'm over in Garden City-why don't you and I head over to my place and we can discuss all this a little further?"

I was pretty damn close to taking her up on her offer. Hell, how could I say no to such a hot piece throwing herself at me for chump change?

"And what about the car?"

I looked away for a moment.

"You're serious about what you're offering?" I asked.

"As serious as it gets," she said.

"Then let's go."

I got up, opened the door, and let the girl head out in front of me. On the way out of the shop, I stopped by the door leading to the work floor, opened it up, and prepared to stick my head in.

"What color?" I asked.

The girl's eyebrows went up slightly, and I could see that she was relieved.

"Um, black," she said.

"Get this girl's car next. Paint it black as it gets. And send me the bill."

Stan nodded.

"You got it, boss," he said.

The girl and I left the front entrance of the shop to where my luxury car was parked. I opened the passenger-side door for her and let the girl in. Once was behind the wheel, I spoke.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" I asked, slipping my key into the ignition.

"Eliza," she said. "Eliza Gardner."

"I'm Vin Romero," I said. "Let's get to know each other a little bit better."

Chapter Three

Vin

We drove in silence for a while. The scene outside was a blustery early winter's day, the sky slate gray and a dusting of snow on the streets and grass. I hadn't even wanted to leave the house today, but business with some of my holdings had required me to be there in person.

It had turned out for the best, however. Eliza here was about to turn my day from nothing special into one to remember. I was getting so turned on at the thought of having this little hottie squirming with pleasure underneath me that I was halfway tempted to pull the car over and get started in the backseat.

"Thank you so much," she said, blurting out the words. "I'm so grateful for what you're doing."

Not the way I'd be reacting if I were in her position, and it got me thinking about what kind of fuckedup situation she was on the run from.

"You can show me how grateful you are when we get back to my place," I said, feeling my cock stiffen again as I drove.

She flashed me a half smile before turning her attention back to the road.

"How long do you think it'll take for my car to be ready?" she asked.

"Stan's going to move you to the front of the line," I said. "Shouldn't take more than a day."

Truth be told, I wanted more than a day with Eliza. If she was on the run like she said she was, then maybe I could talk her into sticking around for a little while. I was sure that I'd be able to keep her safe from this ex of hers that was giving her trouble, and I could think of a few ways that she could pay me back for the trouble.

After twenty minutes or so of driving we arrived in Garden City, and a few minutes after that we were in front of the black wrought-iron gates of my mansion. I pressed the button on my visor and the gates slowly opened.

"Holy shit," she said, looking at my three-story estate. "This is where you live?"

"Nah," I said. "This belongs to some guy that I'm sexually servicing to let me stay here. You think you're the only person who can play this game?"

I flashed her a smile to let her know I was joking, and the look on her face was something between wanting to laugh and wanting to give me a smack.

I drove up the large circle driveway in front of my house, pulling around the fountain in the middle and coming to a stop in front of the dozen-step porch that led to the front doors. I killed the engine and got out, opening the door for her.

Hey, just because we were going to fuck didn't mean that I couldn't be a gentleman.

I opened the large black front doors and allowed Eliza to step in first.

"Wow," she said, walking into the entry hallway. "This place is ... huge."

She was right about that. My home was on the opulent side, but I loved it just the same. Our shoes clicked on the marble floor, the noise resonating through the enormous expanse of the hall and up the spiral staircase that led to the other two floors.

Eliza stopped and cast a suspicious eye in my direction.

"How can someone like you afford a place like this?"

"What do you mean 'someone like you'?" I asked with a smirk. "You mean Italian?"

"No," she said, a smile spreading across her face, one that made her features light up. "I mean someone your age. You can't be older than thirty, right?"

"Thirty-two," I said. "And I got this place on the cheap. The last guy who owned it needed to, ah, get rid of it in a hurry."

I was leaving out a few details, such as how, while this place had been comparatively "cheap," it'd still cost me a pretty penny. And the fact that the last owner had been a guy I knew who'd been busted for running a business not too dissimilar from mine and had needed to sell the place in a hurry to pay lawyer bills.

Nothing Eliza needed to know at the moment, if ever.

"Let me give you a quick tour of the place," I said.

"Sure," said Eliza.

I was in a hurry to get Eliza naked, but I was still thinking long-term. I didn't know where Eliza had run off from, but I had a feeling wherever she'd been living before was nothing compared to my pad. I figured showing around and letting her have a taste of my lifestyle might be just the thing to convince her to stick around for a while.

And the longer she stayed, the more I'd be able to do with her what I had in mind. I had dozens of rooms in the house, and I wanted to fuck her in every last one of them.

"Three stories to this place," I said, gesturing up the stairs. "Twelve bedrooms; just as many baths. A few studies, a library, and a few rooms I've got that I haven't figured what to do with yet."

"Why do you have all this space?" she asked. "It's just you, right?"

"Me and the pits," I said.

"The whats?"

I smirked, placing my fingers in my mouth and letting loose with a shrill whistle. Eliza gave me a curious look as the sound of paws on the marble grew louder and louder. Around the corner appeared my twin pit bulls, both of them eager as always to see me.

Eliza stepped back in shock, clearly not prepared to see a couple of fierce-looking dogs run up to us.

"Sit!" I called out, the two dogs obeying instantly, sitting on their back legs and awaiting the next command.

"Those are really big dogs," she said.