Monday, April 28, 2014

Porsche Stories Vol. 4 Part 2


I stepped across the floor from my bathroom to my bed. I was exhausted and had to be in Atlanta in the morning to meet with Mark. He wouldn't tell me what we were preparing for so I didn't even think to worry. I slipped off into sleep finally, the darkness turned into a dream. 
I could see Mark's face, his eyes focused on mine, moving back and forth slowly. It was dark, and an unsettling feeling washed all over me. Mark was clenching his face, and I just laid there trying to imagine it wasn't happening. This was my ticket to a career. This isn't a dream, this is a nightmare that I've rewinded so many times before. I was drunk, but I was conscious. I don't remember if I said no. He started to close his eyes and all I could do is not imagine my stepfather's face. 

I finally emerged from that sordid dream, I was so happy to be awake. I picked up my phone, it was 4:30. I got dressed and walked outside. I had two hours before my plane began boarding for Atlanta. I looked down the curb at my Macan Diesel and thought about the congested airport. Then my GT3 crossed my mind with the thought of tearing down I-85 before dawn. I went back to the garage and slipped behind the wheel. The whiny and raspy notes mixed together and rapped my ears as they reverberated off the buildings. 

As I sped down 277 I saw the taillights of what I knew was another 997. At this time of the morning two Porsches travelling the same path was rare. I sped up to get closer to the bugeyed car ahead, then I noticed it was brown. I pulled alongside and looked over, it was definitely him. In that same instant the brown Targa bolted away across three lanes towards 77 north. I sped up to be sure it was him but he broke off the freeway faster than I could turn. 

I wonder how he is, it's been quite a while since I left the lake house. As I barrelled down I-85 I spent the entire time thinking how I could've been less indifferent when he said he loved me. No matter how much I think over it now, I know I can't change it. I wonder if he noticed who I was, he had to with how fast he sped away. I wonder if he's livid at how I behaved.

Hours later, as I barrelled onto I-285, I wasn't worried about him, I was worried about this meeting with Mark; the last time he called like this I got sent to assist the marketing team in Russia. I pulled into the car park and grabbed a hole right at the end of the reserved spaces. I locked my lightweight doors and walked into Suite 1000: the Porsche Cars North America office.

I walked into the cold lobby of the office to see the entire office crowded around two cars. As I got closer I realised what had everybody so excited, the new 991 Turbo S and the GT3. I saw Mark boasting about how he was going to buy one now that he's divorced and was smart enough to get a prenuptial agreement. I approached him quickly so I could get out of here as soon as possible. 

"What did you call me down here for?"

"Well, good morning."

"If this was because you were lonely, I'm going straight back to Charlotte."

"No. Actually, I need your help with something. You know our new headquarters is almost done, I need you to help plan and host the opening party."

"Oh?"

"There is going to be a HPDE situation going on downstairs at the test track, and you and Richard Speicher are going to go show off for the journalists in these."

"Now I'm excited."

"Right now I need you to get invites out to this list of people Gary Fong sent me. Add whoever you like to see there that aren't Fong-friendly too. He doesn't have control over this."

"I'll get right on it."

I could feel his eyes pinching my ass when I walked away. I quickly started going over the list and thought of people to add. Hmmm... Blake Z. Rong from Autoweek, I'll make sure to add Derek Kreindler from TTAC. Hmmm... "Jerry Seinfeld: Owner" have to make sure he doesn't try to turn this into something entertaining. Hmmm, they have Jack Baruth listed as a writer for Road & Track here. Oh, there's Wayne Carini and... Wait, Paul Hargrove? Oh no. They have him listed as an owner. I guess the building is big enough for me to avoid him and his brown Targa. I should drag someone there with me, I can't be in the same volume of air as him alone. I don't have the words for him yet. 

Monday, April 21, 2014

Ramblings of a Rich Mad Man.

This is for y'all. A day in the life of a guy. A guy who doesn't know who he is, but knows what he has. Just read it. 

You ever just wake up and just feel the pussy you had the night before? Like you feel every small rib and wave inside? Oh, you haven't? I guess it's only me. I wake up looking for the ingredients of the perfect mimosa: Moët Imperial and Simply Orange. You can't go into deep reflection over the sex you had the night before while parched and sober. You know you were on the north side of drunk the night before. You couldn't have possibly been thirsty in what has to be the wettest pussy locked in your increasingly short memory. Forget all of that, I have to go work now. Which means I'll walk into my office where my idiot employees will either have gotten an early start in day drinking or fucking on the copier. What do you expect for a company run by a guy that took the surface streets to work purely so he can smoke a cigar. This is also the same guy who knocked back three of those mimosas before he realised he was already fucking two hours late. Don't get me wrong this place is profitable, it's just the corporate culture I created falls more on the side of cheap porn than cheap polos and khakis. Look at Helen. Fucking slut. I'm surprised she hasn't made kids with one of these doofuses yet. I haven't fucked though. But whatever, I'm gonna go lay down on my couch in my office and contemplate why I can't stop drinking. Fuck. That was a good nap, is it time for me to slip out for lunch yet? Wait, there's a call from the shop, guess I'll use that as an excuse to leave. My dick is hard. A***s has been looking for a bonus for spring break. I'll make her earn it on the way over there. This stupid fucking BMW makes it hard to get my dick sucked while driving. Center console is too high. No worries, we can just go to my office at the shop and fuck on the one way mirror overlooking the shop floor. Look at that shit, look at all those Porsches on the lifts. Look at my shit in the corner. Fuck, I gotta concentrate, this has to be worth the cash I'm giving her. All those pictures of her at Zumba on Facebook are really showing right now in this firm ass I'm smacking. I bet this bitch has never seen a Porsche before. Fuck. Her voice is annoying though, let me press her face on the glass so she'll shut the fuck up. Look at that Carrera GT, this is some wealthy shit right here. Oh damn, I hit the point of no return, might as well let it go. I better get her some Plan B later. Yeah that's a good idea. Phew. Wow, that's just filthy I'm not even gonna look back over at that. While she goes to the bathroom to clean up I'm gonna go take care of what I came over for in the first place. I left the car I wanted serviced in the cage. As I unlocked the cage I stared at my beautiful 997 Targa 4S and all it's brownness. I pulled it out and threw the key at my guy and told him to park it near the gate when it's done. A***s is coming down the stairs, maybe we should get going. But where? I don't want to go back to the office. She looks like she could catch another nut. Plus, it's dark and it's still 75 fucking degrees outside so I can put the top down. If I go back home I'm gonna drink a whole bottle of Champagne and some liqour and all the beer I'll find before I pass out. How about I try to go to her place, that sounds easier. I mean my cum is still running out of her right now, I should at least hang out with her. Wonder where we'll go?