Okay, so first of all, I was totally right. Everyone kept acting like detailing a classic car was sooo easy, but the second I got my hands on that buffer, it decided it had a mind of its own. I swear it was fighting me the whole time.

I showed up at the shop looking cute, obviously — tight little tank top and shorts that make my legs and ass look amazing, because why would I not? Mr. Lawson handed me the machine with that smug little smile and said, “Just keep a steady grip.”

Easy for him to say.

The moment I turned it on, the whole thing started vibrating hard in my hands, buzzing through my arms and straight into my chest. It kept pulling in these sudden directions, jerking and throbbing so much I had to squeeze my thighs together just to stay balanced. I almost dropped it right onto the hood. My heart was racing and I let out this little gasp before I could stop myself.

Of course he laughed — that deep, knowing chuckle that made my cheeks heat up.

“Ease up a little, Zain,” he said, stepping closer.

I rolled my eyes but tried again, gripping tighter, rolling my shoulders back so my breasts pushed forward as I fought the machine. Every time it jerked, my whole body had to move with it — hips shifting, ass tightening, arms flexing. My ponytail came half-undone, strands sticking to my neck and chest from the sweat. The longer I worked it, the more I could feel this warm, pulsing throb spreading through me. The vibration was relentless, traveling up my arms and settling low in my belly.

Mr. Lawson kept watching, voice all low and calm. “You’re forcing it too much. Let the machine do the work… just guide it nice and slow.”

God, the way he said that made me bite my lip. I hated how much I liked him watching me struggle and squirm. I’m a baddie and I know exactly what my body looks like when it’s working like this — all shiny with sweat, curves moving, breathing getting heavier. I finally stopped fighting and started flowing with it. The buffer smoothed out, gliding easier, and this delicious, steady rhythm took over. It felt way too good.

The car ended up gleaming, but I spent extra time admiring my own reflection in the hood… for quality control, obviously.

I hate admitting when he’s right, but maybe Mr. Lawson had a point about relaxing and letting it happen. Still, everything’s a competition. And I won in the end.

If anyone asks why I kept getting distracted and flustered all afternoon, it was definitely the machine being ridiculous. Not because someone kept standing there looking way too pleased watching me handle it.

Whatever.

Tomorrow I’m definitely going back. That buffer and I have unfinished business.

— Zain ✌️