Read Online The Rain Began to Fall by A. K. Hartline - Free Book Online
Authors: A. K. Hartline
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the vehicle vibrating from the power under the hood. He was
familiar with that particular model, and knew it was one fast pony. “But not as
fast as you baby,” he said, patting the dashboard. He felt the excitement that
always came to him when he was about to race; besides the moments when he was
in a creative groove, writing a story, there was nothing that lit his fuse
more. He loved the competition, the smells of oil and gasoline, the speed.
A guy walked up
and stood between them on the centerline of the road, flashlight raised above
his head. Kyle heard the Charger rev up high and hold, engine screaming. He put
his right hand on the Mickey shifter and revved his own engine to the max. The
noise was deafening as the Chevy 427 and Charger 440 split the night air open,
and then the light came down. Kyle got the jump off the starting line, half a
car length, and he held it all the way. The Charger tried mightily to catch
him, but it wasn’t enough as Kyle crossed the finish line first. He cruised
down the road a bit, letting his Nova wind down from the exertion of the race,
then braked and turned around. A couple of cute, scantily dressed girls
gave him thumbs up and cheered as he cruised back. Everybody loves a winner, he thought. At least for awhile . He saw that the next two cars to
race were already at the starting line; the ’70 Boss Mustang 351 and Camaro
Z-28, a 396 under the hood. He was rolling slowly along when he saw a familiar
red Porsche parked on the side of the road. Sitting on the hood with her arms
folded against her, like a perfect ornament, was a girl he wanted to get to
know very well. He pulled up and climbed out.
“Glad you could
make it,” he said, smiling and ruffling his hair.
“I said I would
come, didn’t I?” She rubbed her hands together, both because of nerves and the
slight coolness of the evening. He looked her all over; her short skirt, sexy
legs for miles, and firm breasts underneath her tight sweater. His blood was
hot from the race, and seeing her now made it boil. She slid down off the hood,
and the action caused her skirt to hike up, exposing her high inner thighs. She
smoothed her skirt, and leaned back against the hood, placing both hands behind
her. The pose pushed her chest out, for dramatic effect. It worked; Kyle wanted
to pounce on her.
“So how did you
do?” she asked. “I just got here.”
“Took him by a
length,” he responded, his eyes dancing and sparkling.
“I don’t suppose
you’re surprised.”
“Well, you never
know, but I was pretty confident,” he responded with a grin.
“Now that’s an understatement, isn’t it?” she replied, laughing.
Her soft lips,
sparkling with gloss, beckoned him as she spoke, and the urge to kiss her right
now , to hell with timing, was very strong. His vivid imagination played the
scene of how he would run his hands through her long blonde hair, while kissing
her, and then lift her up onto the hood, placing his hands on her perfect
thighs…
The Mustang and
Camaro roared off the starting line, the noise momentarily diverting his
attention. She studied his profile while his head was turned to watch the race.
How devastatingly handsome he was! She was so undeniably attracted to him,
but it was human nature to appreciate beauty, and be curious of the unknown,
wasn’t it? On the drive over, she had spent some serious mental energy
evaluating her situation; thinking about her mother’s story, Kyle, and her
engagement. Her tale had been a remarkable comparison, but she knew one could
find ways to justify and support almost anything. Yes, Kyle was sexy and
exciting, “brash and bold”, in the vein of her father in the story, but she
couldn’t give the same weight to her mother’s Chris as she did to her Gene. She
and her fiancé had been through much more, and the world they lived in was much
more complicated than those simpler times of her mother’s day. All things
considered, she determined Kyle was an
familiar with that particular model, and knew it was one fast pony. “But not as
fast as you baby,” he said, patting the dashboard. He felt the excitement that
always came to him when he was about to race; besides the moments when he was
in a creative groove, writing a story, there was nothing that lit his fuse
more. He loved the competition, the smells of oil and gasoline, the speed.
A guy walked up
and stood between them on the centerline of the road, flashlight raised above
his head. Kyle heard the Charger rev up high and hold, engine screaming. He put
his right hand on the Mickey shifter and revved his own engine to the max. The
noise was deafening as the Chevy 427 and Charger 440 split the night air open,
and then the light came down. Kyle got the jump off the starting line, half a
car length, and he held it all the way. The Charger tried mightily to catch
him, but it wasn’t enough as Kyle crossed the finish line first. He cruised
down the road a bit, letting his Nova wind down from the exertion of the race,
then braked and turned around. A couple of cute, scantily dressed girls
gave him thumbs up and cheered as he cruised back. Everybody loves a winner, he thought. At least for awhile . He saw that the next two cars to
race were already at the starting line; the ’70 Boss Mustang 351 and Camaro
Z-28, a 396 under the hood. He was rolling slowly along when he saw a familiar
red Porsche parked on the side of the road. Sitting on the hood with her arms
folded against her, like a perfect ornament, was a girl he wanted to get to
know very well. He pulled up and climbed out.
“Glad you could
make it,” he said, smiling and ruffling his hair.
“I said I would
come, didn’t I?” She rubbed her hands together, both because of nerves and the
slight coolness of the evening. He looked her all over; her short skirt, sexy
legs for miles, and firm breasts underneath her tight sweater. His blood was
hot from the race, and seeing her now made it boil. She slid down off the hood,
and the action caused her skirt to hike up, exposing her high inner thighs. She
smoothed her skirt, and leaned back against the hood, placing both hands behind
her. The pose pushed her chest out, for dramatic effect. It worked; Kyle wanted
to pounce on her.
“So how did you
do?” she asked. “I just got here.”
“Took him by a
length,” he responded, his eyes dancing and sparkling.
“I don’t suppose
you’re surprised.”
“Well, you never
know, but I was pretty confident,” he responded with a grin.
“Now that’s an understatement, isn’t it?” she replied, laughing.
Her soft lips,
sparkling with gloss, beckoned him as she spoke, and the urge to kiss her right
now , to hell with timing, was very strong. His vivid imagination played the
scene of how he would run his hands through her long blonde hair, while kissing
her, and then lift her up onto the hood, placing his hands on her perfect
thighs…
The Mustang and
Camaro roared off the starting line, the noise momentarily diverting his
attention. She studied his profile while his head was turned to watch the race.
How devastatingly handsome he was! She was so undeniably attracted to him,
but it was human nature to appreciate beauty, and be curious of the unknown,
wasn’t it? On the drive over, she had spent some serious mental energy
evaluating her situation; thinking about her mother’s story, Kyle, and her
engagement. Her tale had been a remarkable comparison, but she knew one could
find ways to justify and support almost anything. Yes, Kyle was sexy and
exciting, “brash and bold”, in the vein of her father in the story, but she
couldn’t give the same weight to her mother’s Chris as she did to her Gene. She
and her fiancé had been through much more, and the world they lived in was much
more complicated than those simpler times of her mother’s day. All things
considered, she determined Kyle was an
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