Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
I stood at the grease-stained counter, twisting my purse strap until my knuckles turned white. Across from me stood Elias Miller. He looked as though he was carved out of rusted scrap metal and bad intentions, as he tapped a thick, calloused finger against the invoice for my car service.
“That’ll be eight hundred and forty, Amber,” he said. He didn’t look up. He didn’t have to. The silence in the shop was heavy, filled only by the smell of burnt rubber and motor oil. I swallowed hard, as the sudden dryness in my throat made it difficult to breathe. “Elias, I…I don’t have it. Not today. I thought I had another week before payment was due.”
scrap metal and bad intentions
He finally looked up. His eyes were cold and dark, and didn’t hold a shred of sympathy.
He leaned forward and the wooden counter creaked under his weight. “You’re three days late picking it up already. I’m not a bank, and I’m certainly not a charity. You want your car back? You pay the bill. If not, the car stays, and I start stripping it for parts by morning.”
Panic flared in my chest. My job was forty miles away, and without that car, my life would completely collapse. I looked at the dark, cavernous interior of the garage. The shadows stretched long and menacingly between the lifts. I knew he was the only one around for miles and he knew I was desperate.
I stepped closer. My heels clicked softly against the concrete. I felt a strange, cold clarity wash over me, as the morality of the situation felt more and more like a distant, irrelevant thing. I needed to get my car back, no matter what the “cost.”
“Elias, I’m really sorry but I don’t have the money,” I whispered, leaning over the counter so he could smell the faint scent of my perfume through the metal and exhaust fumes. I let my hand rest near his. “But I really need that car, Elias. There has to be…another way to settle this…right?”
Elias went still. The rhythmic tapping of his finger stopped. He stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. I could feel his gaze roaming over me with a predacious intensity that made my skin prickle. He didn’t blink. Not even once.
“Another way,” he repeated, as he reached out, his rough, oil-stained palm and pressed it firmly against my wrist. His skin felt like sandpaper against mine. “You realize what you’re offering, don’t you? There’s no walking back from this.”
I didn’t pull away. “I know,” I said, confidently. “Just take me into the back.” He smirked and reached for the padlock on the office door.
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
https://phonesexcandy.com/amber