Driven from Normal .

Simon McKenzie started his week normal enough, but after a series of events he found himself standing in a bar wearing a cocktail dress. Chapter 26.

As the speeches finally drew to a close, much to the relief of the restless crowd, the focus shifted to the presentation of the car . All the pomp and ceremony seemed a bit pointless to me, everyone had seen the car, most of the people here had even been for a ride in one, but I guess there's some advertising agency desperate to justify their ridiculous advertising budget, so on the elaborate production went. A trendy video played on the screens around the room then the room went almost completely dark with some dramatic music playing in the background. A flood light illuminated the car as it continued to slowly turn, stopping at a perfect angle for photograph, another round of applause filled the silent room. The normal room lights came back on and a crowd started to gather for a closer look. Mitch nudged me and grinned,
“Shit, have you seen one of those before?”
“Nah, not since this afternoon anyway..”

A small line of people formed and proceeded to have their photo taken with the CEO and other VIPs, we just sat there making snide remarks, generally taking the piss when the spotty face teenager with the clipboard appeared from nowhere behind us,
“Excuse me, can you…” His request was interrupted by Mitch getting a fright , he hadn’t seen him coming and actually jumped in his seat,
“FARRRRK!, Gez man don’t do that!...” he growled,
“Sorry Sir! Are you both free an able to come up now for some photos please?” the now nervous boy asked us.

We followed him towards the stage area, Mitch was mumbling something about him needing to wear a bell around his neck to stop sneaking up on people. The CEO greeted us, gave Mitch a firm handshake, while patting his shoulder, he turned to me and smiled. I held my hand out, to receive my hearty handshake, only to get a soft grasp, while his other hand cupped the back of my hand. Bloody hell, he still thinks I’m a chick, I thought to myself.
The amount of photos we had taken seemed to be endless, one executive after another, then the VIP’s all joined the queue for a selfie with “Mitch the race driver” and the “Girl” that drove the other car, as I heard one guy refer to us as he walked into position.
I should have just worn a dress, it would have been less conspicuous than the tux, with everybody already thinking I was just a weird tomboy or something.

With the photo duties mostly sorted, we were left to mingle for an hour or so until the meal was to be served. Mitch was asked a billion questions, all the same thing, about his new drive in F2. What was the difference to F1, how fast did the cars go, just the normal stuff. I, on the other hand, was busy fielding questions about how I learned to drive and how I’d gotten into that kind of work etc. It was so obvious that everyone there assumed I was a girl, without being insensitive, the polite PC friendly questions all pointed to the same thing, how the hell does a girl become a professional driver. Rather than make a scene, I deliberately left my answers as gender neutral as I could without lying to anyone, and for the most part it worked.

One lady approached me, maybe late seventies, but hard to pinpoint. She was immaculately dressed and reeked of old money. She was covered in large diamond jewelry and had enough gold bling to make any Rapper very jealous. We chatted for a while and she explained that her husband owned an upmarket European dealership that also sold the MG brand. I mentioned that I hadn't seen her at the track for the rides and she said, “...cars were not really her thing”. I was thinking to myself that someone like her probably had a shit load of money, and a fair bit of influence. While I would like to say I am always polite regardless of who I spoke to, I really turned on the ol’ charm. Who knows, her husband might need a professional driver in the future…

She asked what I had been doing at the track event, I said that I had been driving and demonstrating the safety features in the skid pan, she seemed genuinely shocked. I assumed she probably also thought I was a girl, there for eye candy or something

“Right then, sit down here and tell me all about yourself!” She placed a hand on my arm and firmly guided me to a nearby empty table, sitting down beside me and making herself comfortable.
“What would you like to know?” I asked.
“Everything Dear, I want to know everything there is to know.” she threw her head back with one of those cliche old rich lady laughs, then after a sip of bubbles, she placed a hand on my knee, indicating I better start talking.

“Ummm, well, I guess I… oh you’ve put me on the spot a wee bit here…”

“Nonsense Dear, just tell me about yourself, it is not a test, just relax…’

I began with the basics, age, place of birth, where I lived, a bit about Mum and Dad. She was nodding but I could tell it was something else she wanted to know about.
I did give a run through of my motorsport background and how that evolved into the professional driving side of things. She wasn't rude or attempted to push me but there was still something else she wanted to know and I was starting to cave under the pressure of trying to work out what that was.
“....and that's pretty much me, I guess..” I said to finish up.

She moved her champagne glass to the edge of the table, then held my hand out flat examining my pink painted nails, “Great, and here we go….” ran through my head as she began to speak again.
“Lovely nails,... and have you done a lot of modelling work?” she asked.

I wasn’t expecting that question at all,
“Umm, no not really, I had a job in Queenstown last week, that was really the first time I‘ve done anything like that….” I paused then added, “That’s where the nails came from, I haven't had a chance to remove them…. Apparently it's some special stuff that needs to be done carefully or my fingernails will fall off!” I stopped myself…. Ahhh, why can't I just answer a question with waffling on and on, I thought.

“So you haven’t done any professional modelling in the past, up until last week?” she asked.
I nodded to confirm her question.

“Remarkable! I was watching the way you moved on the stage and I would have thought you were a seasoned professional. Such a natural beauty as well.” She leaned in closer to my face and gave me a good look over.
“Androgynous models are in very high demand at the moment. Do you have a portfolio?”

I shook my head, “I’m not sure what that is sorry?”

“A modelling portfolio, head shots, your stats etc. Examples of work that you have done. You know, what do you hand over to the casting agents?” she said almost a little miffed at my ignorance.

I started to explain I wasn't a model, nor had ever tried to be a model, she looked confused, so I very briefly explained about how I had ended up doing the photos for the Mitsubishi ad. Her puzzled look remained, I thought that there was only one way to clear this up once and for all, I leaned in, making sure no other ears would hear me and whispered,
“I’m not actually a girl, I’m a guy…”

She threw her head back and scoffed in laughter,
“I know that my Dear, I’m not that senile! And what's more, I've been around for long enough to be able to spot raw talent."

The look of absolute shock on my face must have been blatantly obvious.

"Now if I know anything at all, I would place a small wager that you have some photographs on your mobile phone…"

She held an open palm out, beckoning for me to hand it over. I unlocked it, opened the gallery and passed it over.
She adjusted her glasses to the tip of her nose and carefully studied the pictures. I couldn't really pick what she was thinking from the vague expression.

"I have spent most of my life finding new girls, and boys, that have gone on to have very successful careers in the fashion industry…. I retired quite a few years ago and sold my agency, however, you know what they say about old habits…"

"I'm not really sure what to say… I have an agent already, he gets me the driving jobs…" I stammered out.

"A talent agent and a modelling agent are not the same… What's his name?" She asked in quite a surly tone.

"Ahh, he is Chris Hawke... from C. Hawke and Co… "

"Nope! Never heard of that company, but I will tell you something right now!… You my Dear, could make a lot of money with the correct representation and the right team behind you."

She dug into her purse and produced a small business card, as she handed it to me she said.
"You call me! This week, without fail…. Promise me this very second!"

There was no chance she would accept any other answer.
"Yes, I will…. I promise…"

"GOOD!, I shall expect your telephone call."
She patted her hands on my knees as I looked down at the plain, but still expensive looking card, it simply had "Marilyn Winter-Jones" with a phone number and email embossed below in a fancy gold font.

When I looked back up, she was already walking away, slowly merging back into the crowd. "Wow, that was friggin weird" I muttered to myself.

After a bit more mingling an announcement was made to take out seats for the dinner service. The meal was okay and about what I expected. Mitch and I got the giggles at one point, with a larger gentleman sitting at the next table over. He was having a very serious conversation with the man beside him and the entire time, he had what we both agreed to be half a carrot stuck to the side of his face. The guy he was talking to could see it but was too polite to mention it. When the carrot eventually succumbed to gravity and fell off, we both cheered a little too loudly and everyone turned to look at us. That made our attempts not to laugh much harder, and like a couple of naughty school children the pair of us sat there trying very poorly to stifle our sniggers avoiding attracting anymore attention.

The remainder of the evening involved a little more schmoozing before we called the event as done. While we discussed calling a taxi, Mitch and I were offered a ride back to the hotel from one of the MG franchise owners, who was also staying at the same hotel, which saved about half an hour of waiting. Even so, by the time I was finally ready back in my room and free of the penguin suit, my bed looked very inviting. I forced myself between the well secured bed sheets and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning after a long shower, taking full advantage of the free hot water, I got dressed, gathered my stuff together and repacked my suitcase before heading down to check out and have another breakfast on MG. I met Mitch at the front desk, he'd already checked out so hung around waiting for me to join him for a feed. He had a three hour drive ahead of him getting back to Auckland but said it'd be better on a full stomach.

As we ate, I mentioned my encounter with "Marilyn Winter-Jones". I thought he'd burst out laughing, but it was the opposite. He asked what being an Androgynous model entailed then quickly Googled it when I didn't actually know. We were both shocked at how attractive and stunning the models looked, we both agreed the male models that showed up in the images looked better in a dress than actual female models.

The internet stalking moved on to finding out more about "Marilyn Winter-Jones". Her story seemed to be far more impressive than I'd suspected, pages of found results appeared, listing her career, business successes and impressive charity work. Regardless of who she had married, her own resume shone very brightly on its own.
"Shit a brick Macca, maybe you should give her a call next week just to see what she says.." Mitch suggested.

"Yeah, maybe I should…" I replied, still scrolling through the articles featured in her name search. “I’d hate to go behind Chalky’s back though… that doesn’t sit right with me.”

“You don't have to commit to anything, just see what she has to offer…”

I had about an hour or so before my flight departed and while Mitch was keen to get on the road, he offered to drop me at the airport on his way. Not that it was on his way, it was actually about ten minutes in the opposite direction, he insisted it wasn't an issue, so I took his offer.

"Well what a weekend aye?" Mitch announced as we pulled away from the hotel parking area.

"Yeah, it's been interesting…. Pretty cool me being the first to know about your F2 deal though!"

Mitch went quiet and didn't say anything…

"Mmmm, yes Macca it was good you heard first!" I said, mocking the way Mitch talked.

"Haha, yeah sorry. It was good you were there…. I can't think of anybody else that I would've wanted to hear it first…"
It looked like he was going to say something else but refrained.

I knew he was probably thinking the same as I was, our romantic rendezvous in my room. I didn't want to bring it up again either, but I also didn't want to end the weekend by leaving things on weird note. I had to really think hard to find the right thing to say, it took a minute or two and then Mitch beat me to it anyway...

"I'm sorry again about coming onto you the other night…"

"It's all good! I really mean it!" I replied.

"It wasn't cool though, I shouldn't have just sprung myself on you like that… I still feel a bit shit about it…"

"Mitch, it's fine, I'm one hundred percent fine with it, don't stress… it wasn't actually that bad anyway if I'm honest"

Mitch smiled as he repeated my words back, "Wasn't actually that bad…. Wow! Way to make a fella feel special…"

I grinned looking over at him, still smirking,
"Ah sorry! What I actually meant to say was, I loved the opportunity to make out with such a hunk and fully fledged Formula Two star in a hotel room. But, well you know, I didn't want to give you a big head or anything"

Mitch tilted his head back, sticking his chin out "That's more like it.."

I snickered "You’re such a dickhead…"

It was a another few moments before he spoke again,

"...bit of a bugger that we got interrupted when it was just getting interesting…"

I nodded, Mitch looked over at me with a quizzical look,

"How far would things have gone, do you think, ya know, if we hadcarried on?"

That was something I had been genuinely asking myself since it happened and I hadn't come up with an answer so I shrugged my shoulders.

"You were enjoying yourself weren't you? I didn't get that all wrong did I?" The desperation in his question was crystal clear.

As soon as I started thinking about how I felt that evening the warm feeling inside returned and a smile emerged on my blushed face.

"Phew! I knew I hadn't imagined it…" Mitch said, sounding very relieved.

"Yes, alright it was enjoyable I guess…"

"Pffft, just enjoyable. Whatever ya dick!... Putty in my hands is what you were!" He sounded cocky and had a shit eating grin to match.

"....and here comes the big head! Stand back everyone, it's gonna blow"

Mitch started laughing, "...Just admit it, you loved it!"

I was still reminiscing about how much I had actually enjoyed myself when once again I felt my mouth open and it just started talking without any guidance at all from my brain.

"As if!... I'd never hear the end of it if you knew how horny you’d made me…"

What the hell, Mouth!
The deal is you wait until the brain has Ok’d stuff before you just say things… In a slight state of shock, I raised my hand and physically covered my mouth hoping to avoid it saying anything else.

“Are you being serious or what?.. “Mitch asked as he pulled the car to a stop on the side of the road.
With my mouth still covered, I nodded.
I had no idea how far things would have gone but I knew that at the time I was super aroused and didn't want it to stop. I had desperately wanted Mitch’s hand to have carried on up my inner thigh and had been thinking about his gentle touch since.

He pulled the handbrake on and reached over to remove my hand from my face, he never let it go as he lowered it down and I felt the goosebumps on my arms appear instantly as he gave it a light squeeze. Much to my surprise, but not as much as Mitch’s, I leaned over and kissed him, right on the lips. A little zing buzzed my lip as we touched. I don’t think Mitch knew what was happening as he was perfectly still and not reacting back at all.

Time to retreat… I pulled myself from his face only to feel a firm but gentle hand on the back of my neck pushing me back towards him. His tongue started the same Tango as the other night and I closed my eyes to concentrate on the wonderful feelings.

Mitch's hand let go of mine and landed on my thigh, making me squirm with excitement. The sensation of his hand sliding towards my crotch transported me straight back to the exact moment when we’d been barged in on. I broke free of his kiss to take in a breath, letting it out again with a soft moan.

Mitch cupped his hand over my erection and delicately massaged it, I found my own hand doing the same back to him. I have to say, his tool box was far better equipped than my own, as my finger brushed against it I had to open my eyes to make sure my hand was in the correct place.

“Gezzz-zus! Have you got a license for that weapon? It should be muzzled if nothing else…”

Mitch shushed me and resumed his kiss, I followed his lead and kissed back while tracing the outline of the bulge in his pants with my fingernails. I was trying to coordinate my left hand enough to unzip his fly when a large truck passed us and the wind rattled the car. Mitch stopped and leaned back,

“We can’t do this here…”

The noise of the passing truck had startled me just enough that I was brought back to reality. Frig, that’s twice we have been interrupted just as it was getting super steamy.

“No, I guess not!....” I glanced at the clock in the dash, “And I really need to get to the airport as well…”

Still in quite a fluster, Mitch agreed and tried to sort himself out, both of our erections were still very obvious, and he battled to compose himself enough to continue the remainder of the trip to the airport. I checked my reflection in the mirror on the sun visor and attempted to tidy myself up before we arrived. I was pleased not to have been wearing any makeup but even still, the stubble from Mitch had reddened my skin.

I adjusted myself to reduce how noticeable my erect penis was as we pulled up to the car park, I wasn’t late but didn't have a lot of time to muck around either. I suggested that it may be best for me to go in alone when Mitch got out of the car to help with my bag. The front of his pants still looked swollen and walking into the terminal would have caused a stir.
I gathered my case up, told Mitch we’d talk again soon and headed towards the terminal to check in for my flight home.

I turned as I got to the main front door to see Mitch still watching me, he held up a hand and smiled, but he still looked like I’d stolen his lunch money. I smiled back, waved, then headed inside to join the few people waiting for the same flight to Christchurch, nobody I knew luckily.

I had about five minutes or so up my sleeve, so I ducked into the wheelchair toilet, placed my case on the floor and fished out my toiletry bag that contained my makeup bits and pieces. .
I thought a wee dash of foundation might help conceal the rash around my mouth. It worked a treat and as I was packing it away, I decided to use a little mascara as well, I actually even considered a bit of lippy, but I thought the bright red one I had might have been over the top.

I zipped the case back up, walked out of the toilet, and handed my case over at the desk as I checked myself on. Not once did I even wonder if anyone questioned why a guy was wearing makeup, I just smiled, basking in the afterglow of making out in the car with a cute guy.