Faberry G!P Smut Compilation

all about the touch

Rachel liked being underneath a car, with its guts, its belly exposed to her tinkering. She tightened a bolt, her grip tight on her wrench even as her short fingernails felt clumsy and caked with grease. She could hear the bustle of the garage around her, interrupted by the soft purr of a familiar engine rumbling through the floor.

"She's here again, askin' for you," Rachel heard Finn's voice above her. He nudged her calf with his foot and she eased her creeper out from under the car she was working on. Finn appeared, backlit by the overhead lights, his coveralls as marked with grease as Rachel's was. He jerked his head towards the direction of the garage's front office, and sure enough, she was there.

She, being this blonde woman who held herself like a movie star from the golden age of Hollywood, though Rachel had no idea if she actually was some kind of actress. What kind of celebrity would settle in Lima? She was rich, too, what with her 1964 Shelby Cobra parked in the service parking lot, its sleek ivory-white body always polished to a glamorous sheen.

The woman turned and caught Rachel's eyes, and she nearly dropped her wrench on the concrete floor. She gripped it tight and cleared her throat as she approached in her crimson dress and white lacquered pumps. She was a pop of colour in the sea of greys, blues, and blacks of the garage. Every mechanic paused in their work to watch her close the distance between herself and Rachel.

"Hi," her voice was low and it stirred the heat in Rachel's gut like no other. "Can you have it ready for me by tomorrow?"

"Of course," Rachel eyed the car and the blonde woman. "What seems to be the problem with it?"

"There's rust underneath my car, I think," she answered. "And thank you for doing this – I'm sure you're busy, but you're the only one I can trust. For some reason, after you fix up my car, it drives smoother."

"Thank you – it's all about the touch." Rachel smiled and winked playfully at Quinn.

Quinn chuckled, her tongue caught between rows of her pearl-white teeth. "I'm sure it is."

Rachel accepted a clipboard from the storefront staff with the necessary information regarding the car before her. "If you'd like, I can drive the car out to you, Mrs. Fabray."

The woman – Quinn was her first name, as she wrote it on the paperwork – shook her head. "Just miss – Fabray is my maiden name. And there's no need for that. I live far – out in The Hills. I don't want to be a bother." She held out her hand to offer Rachel her car keys. Even her slender, tapered fingers were beautiful. It made sense that on her finger sat a ring that looked as expensive as her car.

Quinn let the keys drop on Rachel's upturned palm. With a smile, she turned to leave Rachel in the constant noise and cacophony of the garage. Rachel allowed herself a brief moment to appreciate the sway of Quinn's hips in that tight dress before her conscience caught up to her and forced her to look away, ears aflame.

Rachel finished the remainder of her work on the Honda Civic she was fixing for a friend. She changed into a clean set of coveralls to drive the car out to the parking lot so she would not leave the interior of the vehicle reeking of motor oil and grease. She handed the keys to the front desk personnel and signed the guarantee on the receipt. She went to the breakroom to wash the grime on her hands and slugged a tall bottle of water.