DJ & Jay Ch. 04

In previous parts to this story, Amy received her birthday present of DJ Qualls and Jason Mewes from Tasha. In this episode, Tasha gets what, or who, she's always wanted.

IV. Tasha's Interlude

They let her pick the activity for the evening. There was not even a question. She had to get up to Avellea for the races. Tasha was a self-confessed lover of fast cars. Had been for years. There was just something about the power of it, the sheer horsepower under her control, the screaming rpm's, that got her blood hot. She wished she could afford something really fast and EXPENSIVE. But, seeing it up close was sure to be almost as good as driving it, temporarily anyway. DJ was eager to go, he was thinking of buying something; Jay was harder to convince. He just wanted to sleep but she reminded him he could do that on the way up. Amy was no problem. She'd follow any of them anywhere.

The drive was somewhat long, 4 hours from start to finish. They took the main state road to the interstate, followed it for the next 2 hrs, and then had to join a line of cars, mainly new EXPENSIVE ones, Tasha noticed, up the winding road to Avellea. They climbed nearly 4,000 feet via a series of roads that clung to the nearly vertical mountains. Sincerely hoping their guys wouldn't get altitude sickness, Tasha passed around bottles of water and a few pieces of fruit. Amy and DJ were talkative for the first half of the trip, but then got quiet. She didn't have to check her rearview to know what was up. Jay crashed and stayed out most of the way. Even as she slowed her speed to a crawl, having to make a few stops in the village, he barely changed his breathing.

The town, deceptively quaint, occupied one side of its mountain valley and crawled up the evergreen-covered hills. There was still enough snow for the upper third of the peaks to be covered, despite it being nearly 60º on the valley floor. The track was out by itself on the opposite end of the 3 mile vale. As they neared, she could hear some of the enhanced engines roaring. She wished she could gun hers like that. If she had been a man, she would have had a massive hard-on before long.

While Amy and DJ disentangled themselves in the back seat, deceiving no one, Tasha trolled for a parking spot. There was nothing closer than the east forty. So be it. She took a spot toward the end of the rapidly filling lot and shook Jay awake. He looked more than a little out of it. She made him take some water, and they started off slowly on foot. Jay rubbed his forehead like he was hung over and said little.

Paying a decidedly bored attendant the charge to enter, they were admitted, passing under a gate in a long brick wall. It stuck Tasha as castle-like. Inside, huge yellow-and-red striped awnings were strung over stands that went halfway around the oval racetrack. They stood now in a broad alley where concessions rimmed the back wall, and the skeleton of the grandstand looked at them from the other side. That was as far as it went toward "racetrack." Everything else was extremely upscale, from the espresso bars, to the kabobs, shrimp on the Barbie, and energy drinks with ginseng made to order right there. Nowhere did you find "hot dogs and a coke."

The four of them made their way through scattered people to the entrance of the stands, to a point where they could go up, or down. So far neither of the guys had expressed much of any opinion about anything, either being there at all, being her and Amy's company while there, or about where they would stand, sit, eat, drink, anything. It was starting to unnerve her. Jay was simply bored, and after a quick trip to the men's room he was stoned again. She wondered how much of his life he spent that way. DJ seemed rather taken with Amy, which was ironic and slightly morbid, she thought. At least he got her to talk. Well, here they were. She wanted to drool on the engines and DJ had mentioned looking to buy. No time like the present.

Down, she decided. She wanted to be as close to the pits as she could get. That was where you saw the real action. Curiosity about what other famous people might have turned out ate at her too. Never before had she been even vaguely interested in star-gazing. Amy's little fantasy world, as she called it, had merely amused her, more because of Amy's commentary than anything. What did she care what color eyes these people had, or how old they were, how tall, background, filmography, etc.? There was only one she cared about, and she already knew as much as she ever would. She could not deny that their adventure with "the boys" had been interesting so far. Tasha led the way down several more risers and found enough room in a row not too far from the front for them to sit. Jay followed her like a sleepwalker.

It would be a good hour before any races started. She was glad they were early, though, or they'd have had to resort to rather remote seats. Within ten minutes every other spot in the lower section was taken. She made sure to have gotten the aisle seat, just in case she needed to get up and move around. Being surrounded by people made her a little claustrophobic. Especially this kind of people. The sheer number of them didn't bother her. The whole attitude of the place was another thing. It wasn't like she'd never been here before, so she was expecting it and indeed had been raised in it, but the posturing and parading of wealth that went on made her slightly nauseous. All she cared about today was the cars; the majority of these people had to display themselves in every aspect, it seemed. She and her friends looked slightly shabby, she thought to herself. That was exactly the kind of thought she did NOT care to have. It was so snobbish.

Some hawkers were walking up and down the aisles. Tasha realized she'd been driving for a good stretch with no real sustenance. Amy wanted something to eat, too; DJ was craving some kind of herbal concoction she never tried. She flagged one of them, a Scandinavian-looking young woman in braids and bellbottoms, and ordered from a selection similar to what they'd seen behind the stands. Amy forked over a $20 and it was gone with a wave of "keep the change." Finally, it appeared that Jay was coming out his stupor, or whatever that had been. He ordered and paid for himself. Beer. The waitress or whatever she was curled her lip slightly but handed it over, for $7.00. It was some microbrew that Tasha supposed didn't resemble Budweiser much.

She crunched into her jumbo shrimp-on-a-stick, scanning the lower reaches closely. There were so many excellent vehicles today, all looking their best for the pre-race laps. Each entrant had its little crowd of mechanics, owner, driver, and of course, press on a number of them. God, all that horsepower and she without her trust fund. Well, it had been worth it, to actually call her life her own. Strangely, she hadn't seen anyone she recognized, either the old crowd or the Hollywood type. But then her family's cronies had mostly been into the other racing, purebred horses. Just as well. It was making her moody just to think about that mess again. Normally Tasha considered herself an accomplished conversationalist. She didn't have much to work with at present, and she was distracted by her thoughts. And then…

Tasha's eyes bugged out. She choked and nearly spit out her drink. She couldn't believe her eyes. There HE was, the man who had occupied her fantasies since grade school. There amidst the pricey muscle cars in a tight racing jumpsuit stood John, looking as fine to her as he had twenty-some years ago. Coughing, she turned her back and tried to collect herself. Forget Amy with her gape-mouthed routine. Tasha knew that wouldn't work on someone who'd been 'known' over half his life

Between the coughing and hacking and her obvious blushing, she already had her little party's full attention. But not the one she was looking for. As soon as the red disappeared from her face, she looked for John again. He had moved. For one frantic second she thought she'd imagined it. Then she spotted his clean, almost military haircut, his broad and muscular back, and one fine ass in that sexy suit. Tasha waited impatiently for him to look in her direction. Jay asked her what she was buggin' about. She didn't say. By then, Amy was scanning the crowd on the ground below around the track and in the pits. When John turned enough so they could see his profile, she flashed Tasha a Cheshire cat smile. She knew all about John Fucking Travolta. Oh, yes.

Distracted as he was, or should have been, with his upcoming race, John himself was staring at her now. Even from fifty yards, she was positive she could make out the piercing blue of his deep eyes, the perfect teeth, the dimple in his chin. Tasha tried to act cool, she was practiced in that art as well, but her heart was pounding in her chest. Giving him the international "good luck" sign, she sat back down. Far be it from her to cause even one second's lack of concentration for a driver; it could be fatal.

Eventually she calmed down enough to pay attention to the track itself. The opening heats started a few minutes later. Fast cars, that was all she wanted to look at now. Since Tasha had one more reason to keep her attention directed trackside, Amy took over most of the conversation. She had finally found her feet, in that regard. Jay came out of his torpor with his motor-mouth intact; there was not much needed besides listening and throwing in a 'yeah' and 'uh-huh," every so often. He was in the process of revealing his purpose in being here this weekend.

"….so I'm supposed come out here and learn about small towns, and mountains, and what it's like in the west. What do I know about that? I've only been outta Jersey like, three times. So I figured, hey, why don't I look for somewhere to build a house, you know? 'Cause I always wanted to live in the mountains, like secluded, but like not all the time. So anyway, Kev says to me, "Hey man, you go check it out, and get back to me on what you find out." We gotta like, go hiking or something and see it up close. I've been checking out the architecture and shit…."

Tasha wondered how he knew such a big word. Meanwhile, she was watching John sliding in through the window of one of the best looking cars down on the field. He adjusted his headset, pulled on a helmet, and started up the engine with a roar. He was driving? Better and better. All of Tasha's old boyfriends had driven killer cars. It was the only way she'd go out with them. She felt the familiar stirring that meant, "hot man, hot car." The races today had not been very long, maybe 10 or 20 laps. This one would be 100. She would get to see some action mid-way through. Cars like this, even as streamlined as they were, still ate up a lot of gas and they burned the hell out their tires. She just wished she could be in the pits to get in on the action.

The time came for John's race, finally. For the last half-hour, Tasha had had the feeling she was being watched. At first it made her nervous, and then she began to play it to the hilt, applying and reapplying her lipstick, sipping at her drink whenever she felt that presence's eye on her. She watched John squeezing his jumper-clad body in through the window of his racecar and stood up to cheer. Her companions had been throwing looks between themselves and smirking for the duration, but they joined her in rooting for John. She wouldn't have let them do otherwise.

John's car was a deep midnight blue with a purplish tint. There were a lot less decals and signs on it that a lot of the other entrants, making it stand out. Engines roared so loudly that the stands began to shake. The line poised there for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for the signal. When the flag dropped, he jumped quickly into the lead, but it was no easy place. At the fifth lap, a low-riding lemon-yellow car crept into the lead, little by little, nosing in on the inside. Tasha yelled herself hoarse, convinced that John couldn't see him. When he finally insinuated himself in along the inside rails and made his bid for the lead, she screamed in frustration and sat down. Not for long though. Another racer, a red-orange one this time, bolted up the outside and overtook both of them, as John still struggled for second, now. Back and forth they went, first blue in front, then yellow, then blue.

Time stood still for Tasha. When the pit crews scrambled to prepare, she hadn't noticed. The blue-purple car sped right in and stopped on a dime. The crew got to work frantically. A helmet appeared out of the driver's side window, followed by the rest of John. One booted foot hit the ground, then the other. She was lost in time again, simply staring, waiting for him to off his helmet so she could see his face. When he did, he shook his head from side to side and throwing sweat in all directions. Someone handed him a water bottle and he chugged it so fast that trickles of it ran down each side of his face, leaving clean trails in the layer of track dust coating him. Tasha wondered if she'd acquired tunnel vision. She couldn't see anything but John. He finished the water and was talking very quickly to a man with a baseball cap and a speaker in front of his mouth. They paced back and froth from the car to the track and back several times, staring both ways. The pit crew had popped the hood and was busy beneath. More of them were changing out the tires. John leaned over and whispered in the boss's ear. The man raised an eyebrow questioningly. John smiled, and looked over in Tasha's direction. He spoke again. The other man beckoned another crew member over and spoke to him. Tasha had unmistakable feeling she knew what was going to happen, but first there was a race to finish.

He won. Of course he did, he had to. Couldn't happen any other way. During the last dozen laps, Tasha had been on her feet, screaming her head off. Amy started to look askance of her exuberant behavior but Tasha's adrenaline was running too high to stop. The blue-purple car sped across the finish line half a length in front of the lava-colored one, the lizard-yellow low-rider a close third and the pack straggled in shortly after. Amid all the jumping around and a victory dance of sorts, a man with a blond crew-cut, by his dress another of John's pit crew, approached her from below the front of the stands.

"Hey! Hey you there, miss!"

Tasha looked around to see who he was talking to.

"No, you. Brown hair, blue shirt. My boss wants a word with you."

"Are you serious?" Tasha shouted back. She moved up to the rail and leaned forward to hear better over the crowd.

"Yes. Mr. Travolta knows a fan when he sees one and would like to meet you." He paused, as if considering how to best word something politely. "Are you interested in helping him celebrate his victory?"

"Are you serious?" Tasha asked as second time. Not that she really doubted it. After the track-side huddle earlier, what else would it be? Her brain must be failing. 'What a twit!' she berated herself. 'I hope Mr. Travolta likes 'em empty-headed.

Years of practice in highly intense social situations took over.

"Yeah, I would very much like to," she told the lackey. "Tell him I'll be right over."

"I'm supposed to escort you," he said. "You ready? Tell your friends 'bye for now. You'll be back in a couple hours."

Turning around with the biggest shit-eating grin imaginable, she spoke to Amy. "Well, girlie… you got your wish, and now I'm going to be mine. I think, anyway. You guys look for a car for DJ, go get drunk, I don't care. Just meet me back here in two hours."

John was gracious when he met her. The perfect gentleman. He looked her up and down, smiled and asked if she'd like to take a drive with him. Obviously they were going in his racecar.

"Last chance…" she told herself. There was no backing down, though. She let him hand her into the car, and shut the door for her.

The usual cage around the driver's seat was either lacking or had been removed. The interior was really no different than any other high-end sports car. John plunked himself in behind the wheel and sped off around the track and then out a side gate Tasha hadn't noticed before. They came out onto a gravel road that ran straight for the nearest mountain and began a twisting and turning ascent. Tasha turned in her seat and openly stared at him. John noticed her doing so but just smiled. 'God, I love that smile,' she repeated to herself, smiling too.

The road got rougher as they went upwards, and the turns more perilous. Tasha trusted John's driving ability but not the road itself. It was narrow, and they slid on the gravel with each curve. Besides, though she fought it, Tasha was afraid of heights. Not the mundane ones—she was able to go on carnival rides, for instance—but being up several hundred feet with no side guards was beginning to unnerve her. She shifted around in her seat, looking out the window and gripping the armrest attached to the door.

"What's the matter?" asked John. "Scared? This road is a little treacherous, all right." He spun the wheel hard and sprayed gravel off the drop. Before she could see it reach the bottom of the canyon, they were sprinting forward again, over the top of a would-be bluff up a new, steeper face of the mountainside. Higher and higher, the road cut into the cliffs, the switchbacks getting narrower each turn. John gunned the engine and peeled out each time they hit the outside of a curve. It dawned on Tasha that he was scaring her on purpose. He seemed to be getting some kind of thrill in seeing her white-knuckle the edge of the seat and her door handle. His smile had turned feral; he kicked it to the floor once he had maneuvered all the switchbacks successfully. Tasha breathed deeply in relief, trying not to think of having to get down again later. From there, the road ran on top of the mountain, though it was nowhere near as tall as the ice-covered peaks still towering above them.

A few minutes later, they came to a bridge that spanned from the modest mountain they were currently on, to one of the monsters back behind them. It was old and rather out-of-use looking. Made from rusty iron or steel, it looked like a metal spider-web to Tasha. It was hollow underneath in the middle, the support pieces piercing rock to hold itself up. John rolled his car forward to the middle of it, and stopped. Looking to her right, Tasha saw the fuzzy lights of Avellea below them. Her stomach tightened into a knot as she realized how far below they were.

"Well, here we are," John announced. He turned to Tasha, and then took her into his arms. She melted. Never mind waiting for him, she kissed him square on the mouth before he could even start. He seemed surprised, but did not break off, and pulled her tightly against his chest, running his fingers through her hair. They made out for a long time in the cramped front seat, till they were both breathing hard. Tasha wouldn't let up. She had to, needed to kiss, or lick, or bite every part of John she could get at, not the easiest with him still wearing his racing gear. He seemed to be enjoying it, and then he surprised her.

John opened the door on his side and made to get out. Before he stood, he reached deliberately across her, brushing his arm against her tits, and opened her door from the inside. He turned his head to look into her face and said, "Come on, baby. Let's look at the view." A wave of dizziness washed over her, but Tasha was determined to show no weakness. She slowly put one foot on the bridge, then the other. When she stood up, vertigo took over and the world wobbled on its pins. She slammed her arm down on the hood of John's car for balance. He had been over by the waist-high railings, looking over. "You ok? Tasha? Hey, come look at this, it's great!"