Howie walked into the manager's booth. Carl was just hanging up the phone.
"Trevor needs the keys to the back office."
"Oh, Jesus," groaned Carl. "Not again. I told him we weren't letting him do any more of that shit."
"It's a pretty good sale," said Howie.
"I'll bet. What's he selling?"
"The S-class on the far corner."
Carl pondered this. The S-class would be a damn good sale.
"How much does he think he can get?"
"Full boat," said Howie.
Carl gave a low whistle. He tossed the keys to Howie.
He didn't like it. He was running a car dealership, not a goddamned whorehouse. And certainly not a gay whorehouse at that. It wasn't right.
But, shit. The S-class. And full boat, at that. Carl might even fuck a customer for a sale like that. And Carl wasn't even gay.
"Okay," he said. "But tell him this is the last time. Period."
"I will," said Howie.
"And make sure he gets an extended warranty in the deal."
"Okay."
"And the protection package."
"Gotcha."
The customer had no idea that he was about to buy the S-class, of course. He had just come in for an oil change.
But Trevor was on top of his game, and it was written in the stars. This man needed a new car.
Trevor tapped on his computer keyboard some more. Page after page of scrumptious credit history rolled up the screen.
Oh, yes, thought Trevor. This man definitely needs an S-class.
Trevor straightened his tie, checked his appearance in the mirror he kept in his top desk drawer (perfect, of course...ebony perfection), and popped a few Altoids in his mouth before strolling out to the service area.
The customer glanced in his direction when he walked past the service waiting area.
So far, so good. Trevor pretended not to notice him.
Miguel was at one of the service counters. Trevor walked up to the counter and leaned forward to speak to Miguel.
"What's that guy driving?" he asked Miguel.
Miguel didn't look in the customer's direction. "A 2002 Lexus," he said.
Perfect. Definitely time for a new car.
Trevor reached a hand into his pocket and pulled on the inside seam of his underwear. His cock, which had been straining at the seam (it always did this when a new sale was in the air) sprung free of its confines and snaked free down the upper fourth of his left leg, outlined in loving detail by the cloth of his suit pants.
"Is he looking?" Trevor asked Miguel.
Miguel still didn't look in the customer's direction. He glanced down briefly at a mirror on his desk which was angled in the customer's direction.
Without changing his expression, he said:
"Yeah. He's looking."
Trevor let an easy smile cross his face as if Miguel had said something amusing. Through his smile, like an expert ventriloquist, he said to Miguel:
"Take your time on that oil change. And have Marco bring the S-class through the service bay. Tell Howie the order cancel game is on."
Trevor ambled across the waiting area and took a seat next to the customer. He leaned back slightly, at ease in the seat, and rested one of his dark graceful hands on the leg that was showcasing his cock. The customer seemed distracted.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" said Trevor.
"Uh, yes," said the man, jolted from his cock-focused meditation. "Very nice weather."
"And a great day for business, too," said Trevor. "I just sold this beautiful car. It's really one of our nicest ones."
"That's good," said the customer.
"Well, it's a very big deal for me. You see, I just started working here, and it's my first sale ever," said Trevor.
(Which, of course, was a big fat lie.)
"Oh," said the customer. "I didn't realize that. Well, congratulations!"
Trevor grinned with practiced sheepishness. "Yeah," he said. "It's harder than it looks. I didn't think I would be able to make a sale. I've been here two weeks, and I was starting to get pretty discouraged."
"That must be tough," said the customer. His empathy seemed sincere.
"But it's looking up now," said Trevor cheerfully. He pulled out his wallet and showed the customer a baby picture. "This is the reason I'm doing this."
(Another big fat lie. The baby was his niece. Trevor didn't have any kids. At least none he was aware of or admitting to.)
"She's adorable," said the customer.
"Yeah," said Trevor, now beaming like a proud parent. "She's my whole world. Oh, look! Marco's bringing the car now. Come take a look at this. The customer's on his way over to pick it up."
Trevor patted the man on the leg and gave it a little squeeze. "Come check this out."
The customer obeyed. They went to the vehicle, which was fresh from the wash and exuded prosperity. The finish was perfect, and it gleamed under the halogen lamps in the customer pick-up area.
"Isn't she pretty?" asked Trevor. "Just like new. You'd never know it was used."
(Unless you popped the hood, of course. It was a real mess under the hood. But Trevor had no intention of popping the hood.)
"Gosh," said the customer. "It must have cost a fortune."
"Actually, no," said Trevor. "The customer got a very good price on it. My manager gave me a hard time about it." Trevor shrugged and said philosophically, "But I'm new at this, so he didn't get too mad. I'm not exactly a pro at making deals yet. I'm still trying to get the hang of it."
(Amazingly, lightning did not strike Trevor at this point.)
Trevor opened the driver's side door and took the customer by the arm, guiding him into the driver's seat. In an instant, he was in the passenger seat, leaning across the customer, brushing an arm against the customer's arm as he pointed out the various features on the car's dash.
Still leaning in close to the customer (he was within easy kissing distance, but of course he didn't do it), Trevor said with a slight purr in his voice, "This is a pretty sexy little car, isn't it?"
"It sure is," admitted the customer. Trevor gave a fleeting glance downward at the customer's lap. The magic seemed to be working. There was definite customer-tent action going on down there.
Just then Howie tapped on the outside of the passenger window. Both men jumped slightly, although Trevor was only pretending to be surprised. He opened the door a crack.
"Trevor, I need to speak with you a minute," said Howie with practiced hushed urgency.
"Excuse me for just a sec," Trevor told the customer, patting him again on the leg. "Stay here. I'll be right back."
Trevor stepped out of the car and closed the door, leaving the customer alone in the vehicle. He appeared to be in a quiet but intense conversation with Howie. The customer couldn't hear what they were saying, but Trevor seemed upset about something.
Howie walked away. Trevor got back in the car with the customer. His attitude had completely changed. He seemed to be on the verge of tears.
"Damn!" Trevor said with quiet frustration that spoke of bitter disappointment. "And it was my first sale!"
"What's the matter?" said the customer.
Trevor rubbed his face with one hand and placed the other one back on the customer's leg. He choked slightly as he said:
"The sale was cancelled. The customer is not coming to pick up the car."
"Oh," said the customer. "I'm so sorry." He sounded like he really meant it.
"It's okay," said Trevor, although it was clearly not okay. "I'll eventually make my first sale." He sighed heavily. His left hand squeezed the customer's leg as he gained his composure.
The customer didn't know what to say. "I'm sure it will work out," he finally offered weakly.
"Yeah. I'm sure it will."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Finally, Trevor said, "I need to get out of this place for just a little bit to pull myself together. I'm not quite ready to go back on the showroom floor after this."
"I understand," said the customer.
Trevor brightened up slightly and said:
"Why don't we take this thing for a spin?"
"Well, I'm not really looking for a car," said the customer.
"Oh, I know," said Trevor with a hint of mischief. "It won't be a real test drive. But they won't know it," he said, cocking his head in the direction of the manager's office.
"Well, I guess I could...I've got a little time," said the customer.
"You sure it's okay?"
"Yeah," said the customer. "Why not?"
"Great!" Trevor said happily. "Just pull forward here and then turn left onto the driveway. Let's roll down the windows. It'll be good to get some fresh air."
Trevor gave the customer's leg another squeeze as they rolled off the lot.
Carl turned to Howie. "How long have they been gone?" he asked.
Howie looked at his watch. "About forty-five minutes," he said.
"Helluva long test drive." Carl looked out the window towards the back office. No car yet. They were still driving around.
Just then, the S-class pulled into the car lot. It hesitated at the front, then continued around the dealership and parked next to the old back office building, a portable office no longer in use since the new main building had been finished.
"It's showtime," said Howie.
Carl groaned. "I don't want to think about it."
"Are you sure this is okay?" asked the customer.
"Oh yeah," said Trevor. "We sometimes use this building when the other offices are full."
(The fact that the dealership was practically deserted of customers at this point apparently posed no contradiction for Trevor.)
"Okay." The customer seemed unsure of himself.
"It's better this way," said Trevor. "We can figure out the best deal without the managers interfering. They always try to push the price up."
(Not that Trevor would be needing their help.)
The customer liked the way that sounded. They went inside.
The customer was confused when he walked into the portable building. "There aren't any desks," he said.
"They moved them out when the new building was finished. We can sit on this couch and figure out the price."
Howie looked out the window at the back office. He stole an impish sidelong glance at Carl and said:
"You know, we could make a little extra money if we installed a camera in that back office. We could report it as "auxiliary revenue."
"Shut up," said Carl.
"It was just a thought."
"I think we're almost there," said Trevor. "The manager might go for this." They were going over a buy offer. They were sitting closer together on the couch. Trevor's arm was casually draped across the back of the couch, around the customer."
"Yeah...But gee, it sure seems like a lot of money."
"Oh, it's a steal," said Trevor. "This car will pay for itself in long-term value."
(Again, lightning did not strike.)
"I'll take it to my manager and see if I can get him to go for it. Excuse me for just a second, though. I need to use the restroom."
"Do you want me to wait here, or are we going into the dealership?"
"Oh, no. You can stay right here. There's a restroom in this building."
The customer waited. As Trevor went into another part of the portable building. He could hear Trevor pissing and then the sound of a toilet flushing.
Trevor seemed to be taking a long time, and then customer heard him mumbling to himself in the back.
"Is everything all right?" the customer called back to Trevor.
"My damn zipper's broken!" said Trevor.
Trevor came back to the couch. His zipper was opened but the fly was still mostly closed.
"This is embarrassing," said Trevor. "I'll have to go home and change suits after we get the paperwork done."
"Bummer," said the customer.
"Yeah," said Trevor. "It's no big deal, though. Are you sure you don't want to get the extended warranty? It will really save you lot of money in the long run."
(Still no lightning. Zeus must have been on vacation that day.)
Clyde popped his head into the manager's office. "Where's Trevor?"
Howie suppressed a smile. "He's in the back office."
"What the hell is he doing back there?" asked Clyde.
"Don't ask," said Carl.
"Extending his warranty, no doubt," said Howie.
Clyde looked at Howie in bewilderment. Carl shot Howie a hateful look.
At some point in the negotiation about the extended warranty, an extension of a very different nature made its presence known.
These things happen.
Trevor's fuck buddies were always amazed at the complete control Trevor seemed to have over his cock. It was a gift. Whether he was uniquely gifted with special pelvic muscles that nobody else had, or whether he had an uncanny telekinetic ability is, of course, a question best left to science.
But whatever the cause, and no doubt through careful arrangements made in the bathroom beforehand, Trevor had the ability to make his cock snake out of his unzipped fly on command.
And at a crucial moment during the dickering over the extended warranty, Trevor either moved those unknown muscles, shifted his position just so, or issued his secret telekinetic command.
And there it was.
The customer gulped. Trevor pretended not to notice that anything was wrong.
"You know," Howie said to Carl, "I've been thinking about some of the terminology we use in this business."
Carl said nothing. He was getting sick of Howie.
Howie continued, oblivious. "I mean, take the term 'floor whore,' for example."
Carl rolled his eyes. He could see where this was going.
The negotiations at this point had reached the "silent phase." This was not bacause the customer had gotten mad and quit talking, nor was it because Trevor was using pregnant pauses to heighten the tension in the room for a certain tactical effect in the disussion.
It was because the customer's mouth was full.
Trevor loved this part of the deal. Not only because it felt good (and it felt really, really good), but because this was where the sales magic happened.
"That feels incredible," said Trevor. "Work your tongue a little more."
The customer begin licking his tongue against the veiny ebony shaft that prodded against the back of his throat.
"And you know what would be even better than this?"
The customer made a muffled sound.
"Upgrade that warranty to the six-year option, and I'll do something very special."
Miguel left his desk in the service area and made his way to the back lot. He went around the back of the portable building.
Howie was already there, standing just to the side of the window.
Miquel raised his eyebrows in a question.
Howie shook his head. Not yet.
They waited in silence outside the window.
A few minutes later, there was a loud yelp from inside the portable. Howie nodded at Miguel, and they moved to the window to have a look.
The customer was on all fours on the sofa. His face was buried in a throw pillow, and he was moaning and occasionally yelling into it.
Trevor was behind the customer in his favorite location. He was standing astride the customer's upturned ass with one foot on the floor and the other on the sofa. With his powerful hands grasping the customer's buttcheeks, he was fucking at full throttle, his hips slamming into the customer's ass as he plunged in with each deep thrust.
Howie's hand reached down to his crotch, and then remembering that Miguel was standing right next to him, he put both hands behind his back and held them safely away from his basket.
But, God, he wanted to rub his basket. That was one fine Black man in that window.
Trevor had a nice body. His back was defined in a graceful sculpted V-shape, broad at the shoulders, slim at the waist. His arms, nicely muscled, rippled as he pulled the customer's hips back onto his cock. His firm round buttcheeks, clenched and unclenched as he pushed in and pulled out.
Trevor's face had an intense look. He took his fucking seriously. But upon glancing towards the window and seeing that his audience had arrived for the show, he nodded his head in their direction, broke into a grin and pounded a bit harder for their benefit. The customer wailed into the pillow.
Trevor pulled his cock all the way out so the guys could see the full length. He stroked it a few times. It was thick, veiny, long, and rock hard.
"That must be ten inches," said Miguel.
Howie only nodded and gulped.
Then with a wicked grin on his face, Trevor plunged the enormous tool all the way into the customer's ass with one powerful, violent thrust. The customer screamed into the pillow.
"Jesus," Howie whispered softly.
"Damn," said Miguel. "I wonder if that's what prison's like."
"Did you enjoy that?"
The customer nodded meekly. He was too worn out to form sentences.
"That was a great break for me, too," said Trevor, zipping up his pants and fastening his belt.
(Amazingly, the broken zipper had somehow repaired itself.)
Seeing that the customer was now dressed, Trevor brushed against the venetian blind on the door to the building as a discreet signal. At that instant, there was a knock on the door.
The customer frantically ran his fingers through his hair to adjust the mess as best he could as Trevor opened the door. "Well, hello!" Trevor said the whoever was at the door. "We were just about to come to your office."
The customer was confused by this. They were?
A tall, slim Black man stepped into the room. His skin was much darker than Trevor's, and much smoother. There was a graceful, almost gentle quality to his movements. He smiled at the customer bashfully. There appeared to be a sizable bulge in his suit pants.
Trevor turned to the customer. "I'd like you to meet Jamal. He's from our finance department, and he'll be discussing your financing options with you."
Trevor straightened his tie and stepped out the door as Jamal took a seat on the sofa next to the customer. Looking deeply into the customer's eyes and leaning close to him, Jamal purred in his soft baritone:
"Will you be financing with us today?"
Trevor closed the door behind him and made his way across the lot towards the showroom. As he did, he whistled a few bars from a favorite tune.
Carl sat at his desk and shook his head. He couldn't believe what he was looking at.
The buy order for the S-class was so beautiful he thought that he might actually cry. Full boat. The extended warranty (with the six year option!). The protection package. And the customer was having a satellite radio and backseat DVD player installed as well, along with an alarm system and GPS navigation.
And the financing! Oh, the rate! Oh, the credit insurance!
It was a work of art. Carl was in awe.
He glanced at the sales leader board. Trevor's name was written in dry erase marker with his month-to-date sales figures. Beautiful. Simply beautiful.
Jamal wasn't doing too badly in the financing department, either.
Howie popped his head in the door and said "Trevor needs the..."
Carl tossed Howie the keys before he could finish the sentence.