The Right Time (Lestappen)

The Monaco Curse

"Do you think somebody could perform a ritual on me or something?" Charles asked, catching Max completely off guard.

It was the weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix which meant glitz, glamour and Charles struggling to get to the chequered flag. Charles was sure he must be cursed because nobody could be that unlucky. Max simply shrugged at the question and turned his attention back to the playstation.

"No, do you know what, forget the ritual, I'm going to win this year." Charles proclaimed with all the confidence in the world. Max smirked to himself.

"You don't think I'm going to win?" Charles sounded offended.

"I wouldn't bet on it no" Max mumbled. He didn't doubt Charles' abilities but he always backed himself on the track.

"Fine, okay, a bet" Charles offered.

"And what exactly are we betting?" Max asked, Charles now had his full attention.

"I don't know. Something fun. Okay, whoever loses has to strip" Charles suggested playfully.

"What, like just take their clothes off? Yeah sounds fun Charles" Max responded sarcastically, they had seen each other naked plenty of times so it didn't seem like the stakes were that high.

"No, no, like with music and everything" Charles laughed.

"Charles, I'm not lap dancing for you if that's what you mean, my body doesn't have any rhythm, I don't dance."

"Well if you are so confident you are going to win then you won't be dancing at all will you?"

Max tried to weight up exactly how much he trusted his abilities on track but he couldn't really back down now.

"Fine. Deal"

Shit! Now Max really wanted to win. Forget the World Championship, there were bigger things at risk here, he was not joking when he said he didn't dance.

Unfortunately for Max, qualifying went to Charles. He got out of his car triumphant as he managed to snatch an impressive pole position. It seemed for once his home advantage had been working in his favour. Max had to settled for second but he was experienced enough to know that it was Sunday that counted. It wouldn't be easy though, Monaco was a notoriously difficult track to overtake on and he knew Charles wouldn't be a push over. Still, he was confident that Red Bull's strategists would give him the edge so even if he couldn't get past on track he could jump Charles at the pit stop. He was still pretty confident he would end up on the top step of the podium.

Charles was equally confident particularly as track position was so important at Monaco. He spent most of Saturday evening teasing Max about their bet, playing him some music he thought might be good to strip to and even offering to buy him a sexy outfit to help get him in the mood for his performance. Charles' suggestion of a sexy policeman or fireman costume were met with less than enthusiasm by Max who was silently cringing to himself imaging the awkwardness of it all. The more Charles teased the more he was determined to win, he couldn't wait to wipe that smug look off of Charles' face tomorrow.

Charles had a good launch off the line and managed to stay out in front. Max had him in his sights ready to take advantage of any errors but Charles was feeling confident and the balance of the car felt good. He was still leading when he went in for his pit stop and disaster happened. Difficulty getting the left rear tyre off cost him valuable seconds and allowed Max to take the lead. Charles was pushing to close the gap back up when he suddenly lost the brakes causing the car to spin as he got to rascasse. As the car slammed into the barrier Charles screamed to himself, another home race had ended in disaster. He headed back to his motorhome without saying a word to anyone.