431 After the passing pt2
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Incredible ChangesChapter 431: Janey’s Got A Birthday free porn video
It looks like Bambi is going to beat me home.
Freshly a legal, sixteen-year-old driver now, Janey wanted to drive again. That worked for me.
I found that she was an average, soon-to-be high school sophomore. Her grades were usually As and Bs. Like most kids, she got in trouble for dumb stuff like not doing her chores, being out past curfew, and other things high school kids do. Her parents used to make sure at least one was home all the time, but when she started high school, they left her on her own during the week. Neighbors and friends watched out for her. Maids, landscapers, and handymen took care of the house. A cook came in a few days a week to make meals for Janey to heat up for dinner. The cook also did the grocery shopping. Bills were all done electronically. If a paper bill came in, Janey took a picture of it and emailed it to her parents. She had two neighbors with powers of attorney to take her to the doctor or hospital if something happened.
She had no specific hobbies, sports interests, or even a favorite color. For the most part, she was sort of bland in that respect. Mostly she did high school girl things like the other girls she hung around.
After a late lunch, she asked, “If you show me how to work your tablet to find the cops, you can drive. A girl can only take so much of that belt between her legs.”
A bathroom break and a few minutes of how to use the cop tracker had me in the driver’s seat.
I don’t need the cop tracker with my implant powered up and augmenting my vision with data.
I got off the interstate five exits from the one her family used. Taking the back roads shaved off sixty miles. It was about the same time as driving the interstate, but this put us on winding, twisting curvy roads. No cops around, and satellite images showing no one on the highway let me open the Lotus to enjoy what it could do.
“It has been a long time since I had a place where it was safe to push a high-performance car how it was designed to handle. That was a lot of fun. You are so lucky to have somewhere like that close to your home,” I told Janey.
We got Janey’s things inside, and then I had her call her parents.
I took the phone and went outside for a walk while Janey unpacked. I let them know who I was. How I had brought Janey home, wanted to do something for her birthday, and then will stay with her until they got home.
“My baby is sixteen, so we can’t tell you not to have sex with her if that is what you want,” her dad said.
I laughed and told them, “That is up to her. When you meet me, you will see I don’t need to hit up a sixteen-year-old girl to have sex. Plus, I learned how to yank my crank when I was five, so I am an expert in that skill set. It is her sixteenth birthday today, and she doesn’t need to be alone at home. Given that she passed every certification at the teen performance driving school and has her license now, she needs a car to keep her skills up. She loves my Evora GT, but she isn’t getting that. I’m not worried about costs, but a Ferrari doesn’t quite fit this neighborhood. What sort of price range, makes, models, and things like that is up for consideration? I just got the Evora from the driving school because my friend finished driving school and hijacked my Maserati convertible. I’m not too torn up about it. My friend looks better driving it than I ever did. Around town, I have an old beaten-to-hell Camry. Looks like shit, runs like a sportscar.”
BMW, Lexus, Infinity, Subaru, Acura, and Honda were all in play. Nothing high-end or powerful. They preferred that it be on the bland side. We looked around, and she fell in love with the Honda Civic STi. They had a blue one that was fully loaded. She took it for a test drive, and the arrogant salesman returned looking pale.
“I love the car, but it is a bit anorexic,” Janey said.
I told her, “We can look over at the Subaru. They have the Lapis Blue WRX STI fully loaded out. Honda hasn’t put anything into the Civic STi in a while.”
She loved the Subaru.
Even though it was her car, titled in her name first and her parents second, they had to run my credit. It sounded like fun, so I let them.
“Mr. Jones,” the finance manager said, coming out. “There seems to be a problem with your credit. You have no credit history whatsoever. We are not able to finance an eighteen-year-old with no credit whatsoever. I am sorry.”
I smiled and asked, “Why are you sorry? I’ve never needed any credit because I’ve never needed to take out a loan. I wasn’t going to take out one for this car either, but no one asked how I would pay. I think I need to talk to the owner to make this deal.”
Wait, I am talking to myself.
The sales manager came down to tell me that he would work with me. There was no need to get the owner involved.
“You don’t seem to understand that I don’t need financing, and I would buy the car outright on my credit card, but I don’t think you are trying to make a reasonable deal here. I believe that the owner will be able to put something in front of me that isn’t a salesman thinking they have two dumb kids in here buying their first sports car,” I told him.
After saying the owners changed last fall, they hadn’t met the new owner and only had a phone number for him. It wasn’t very likely that they could contact him. They wanted to make the sale, so he went to make the call.
“Hello? David speaking,” I answered after stepping outside.
He laid out why he was calling. As the sales manager didn’t seem to have a clue, I had an email sent to him from the “corporate office” with the information used to communicate with him regarding the information on the new dealer. Whoever he talked to on the phone from the “corporate office” called the manager on his desk phone. He said he needed to get that because they rarely called him versus him calling them.
I heard his part of the conversation over the phone and the other side via the implant’s connection to my cochlear nerves.
“We see that you are on the phone with that owner of the dealership per a customer request,” the corporate office person said.
“Yes. We made the same deal we make anyone under twenty-one, good credit or not. The customer is only eighteen and has no credit but insists he needs no financing. He questioned the offer and asked me to make the call because he felt the owner would make a better deal,” the manager replied.
Corp told him, “From my information, the owner happens to be at your dealership. He is driving a 2020 Lotus Evora. David is an incredibly nice guy. He doesn’t flaunt his money, and his daily driver is a beat-to-hell Camry. David also turned eighteen this summer, and I’m pretty sure that David has no credit because of his billions in the bank. He uses his Black or real-gold cards to pay for most things, but he can get cash in any amount, from any bank, without question. I suggest you continue your conversation with him as you walk near the person requesting you make that call. It isn’t unusual for him to buy some random person a car because he feels they need it.”
“Fuck,” he said softly after hanging up with my “corporate office.”
The sales manager asked me about nothing as he first went outside and saw that my Evora was there. Back in the sales and finance office, he asked where I had gone, and they pointed to where I stood off in the corner of a showroom.
When he got close, he could hear me talking into my phone and then on his phone after a short delay.
I hung up, smiled, and said, “I told you I didn’t need any financing, and your offer is total shit. I don’t give a crap about deals you made before I got this dealership, you make another one like this to anyone, and it will be your last working for me. My money comes from net profits, not the junk fees you tack on as fluff to line your pockets. One of the first things I did was everything I could to make my ten percent of net profits as low as possible. The other ninety percent got paid everyone that Christmas as a bonus, completely redoing the shop and providing every mechanic with the new toolsets. Everyone here is the highest-paid person doing their job at any car dealership in the area, provided I don’t also own that one. You already know that the service department had no problems replacing the mechanics that weren’t cutting it and that people are driving hours to have their service done here. Don’t think I can’t replace you or anyone here before the end of the day with someone who won’t treat anyone how you treated me today.”
Oh, did that hurt your feelings?
“Fine. Screw you. I quit,” the sales manager told me and handed me his keys.
Your check is waiting on your desk.
I went over to Christine, who just came back from lunch. She just turned twenty-eight, grew up in a home with both parents in sales, and was damn good at it. The only reason she wasn’t at the top of the food chain here, partially, is because her mom was black, and her dad was Korean. The other was just by being a woman. They always screwed up her deals to keep her from getting the full commission or made them unworkable for financing.
“Christine, right?” I asked her. “My name is David. The sales manager just quit, one of my corporations owns this dealership, and you just got promoted. The job is yours if you want to take over as sales manager. I only have one condition.”
Her look said more than words.
“Blowjob, screw my ass, or use my pussy,” she asked with venom.
I looked her in the eyes and said, “You can’t handle sucking my nine inches. Your ass is for sitting on, not fucking, and do you have any idea how rare it is to find a twenty-eight-year-old virgin woman these days? Not to mention how incredibly rude that would be to my friend Janey, also a virgin. By the way, my friend came to buy a car for her sixteenth birthday. If you want the job, it is yours. All I wanted is for you to personally take her through the entire process of buying a car, starting with the crap offer we got from the previous sales manager. She picked out what she wanted. It isn’t too much car for her. You should have seen her driving the Ferrari and McLaren GT at the driving school. Women get screwed over by car salesmen all the time, and I want her to know what to watch out for in the future. Oh, wait, I did have one more thing. Tell me what car you want to replace the worn-out moped you chain up behind the Awful House so that no one here sees that is all you have to get around.”
“Oh, this is flipping unbelievable, but I’m always the butt of jokes anyway,” Christine told me. “You want me to believe you, then get me that white-woman titty-nipple pink, with white stripes, Panamera Turbo E-Hybrid Executive sitting unwanted after the person who ordered it got caught cheating on her husband. Do that, and I promise I will make you call to tell me to stop selling cars because we have issues getting the inventory here fast enough while also making a profit.”
I moved close and whispered, “If I get you that car, you have to let me show you that there is at least one man who knows how to eat pussy better than any of your girlfriends.”
“I’ll drop my panties right now if you would eat my pussy,” Christine said.
I had Christine walk with me to where I told Janey it wouldn’t be much longer. She should look at the accessories she wanted for her and her car. That included the racing jumpsuit and gloves. No racing stripes on the car, though, as that would just get her pulled over all the time.
In the empty sales manager’s office, I closed and locked the door and dropped the blinds. Christine’s panties were on her floor. She sat on the desk, with my face buried between her legs. My tongue worked over her clit as my finger slipped through her cherry to rub her g-spot.
“Damn, boy, give me a minute to catch my breath between each cum,” she begged.
I sat back, got my phone, and told the man-in-the-machine AI to get the desired Porsche over here with all the sales paperwork in her name. She could handle all the dealer transfer paperwork to get her title and registration.
Having caught her breath, I worked Christine over until she kicked me to stop getting her off. Since she dropped limply into the desk chair, I slipped out to wash off my face and then came back to wash her up too.
She was able to stand when I helped her into her panties.
Christine was furious when she pulled up the deal that the previous sales manager had given Janey and me. She told me to go into the break room to get the woman waiting to interview as a salesperson at the dealership. The woman, Yolanda, could have an oil baron insist on paying her a commission to buy his oil from himself. She sold the hell out of cars at a dealership two towns over, but they always made her share the deal with a “senior” white salesman because she was a black woman. The sales manager was making her wait, for some made-up reason, so that she would be late getting back from her lunch hour, which would get her fired.
I went by what passed for human resources here. The new hire paperwork for Yolanda was already on the printer. I looked it over to see that the sales manager would pay her ten dollars an hour plus only twelve-and-a-half percent of the gross profit. The last guy they hired got the fifteen-dollar-an-hour set after I got the corporation that owned the dealership. The going rate on commissions is twenty-five percent.
“Can you please unscrew this woman’s new-hire paperwork for me? Anyone who sells cars here for me starts at the same pay. If the asshole did this to anyone else, please kindly correct it for them too. Who wants to come to a job where they know they are getting paid less because of gender or race?” I asked the man at the desk.
He smiled as he said, “Does that mean I can give myself that raise everyone was supposed to get last year, but the previous sales manager only gave to the mechanics and his cronies?”
“No. I will call my corporation’s payroll department to fix this for everyone. I don’t play those games and won’t let anyone working for me to do that, either. People here get paid well to do a job. Either they do it right, or someone will replace them that will,” I told him.
The call to corporate was only for this guy to hear it happen, for the record. When I hung up, the check printer started cranking out checks. I took the one for the salesman Yolonda was going to replace with her new-hire paperwork.
“Driver’s license and Social Security Card,” I asked Yolonda in a voice that made her hand them to me quickly.
I made copies of the license and Social Security Card and returned to the breakroom. I put the paperwork in front of her and told her to read it twice before initialing or signing it. She was a fast reader, so she was almost done.
“Now, before I do this, we are going to talk. You lie to me, and I will ensure that having to blow your boss to clock in or get fucked to be allowed to earn any sales commission is a blessing. We both know exactly what I mean,” I told her and watched her get about to cry.
I gently put my finger under her chin to have her look me in the eyes.
“People screw up, Yolonda. We are human. I get it. Some people deserve a second chance. Others don’t,” I told her. “When was the last time you let the guy that got you arrested for doing drugs fuck you? Are you going to say clean? Do I have to worry about you stealing from me? Do you like the Mid-Hearst Area? Will you get mad that someone is moving you there right now?”
“Dead men can’t fuck. I didn’t do it, but I would have if someone didn’t beat me to it. Son of a bitch shot me up during a homecoming party in high school. Fucked me and kept shooting stuff in me that had me wanting to fuck all night long. Once he stopped fucking and drugging me, I passed out. He moved on to another girl. Whatever stuff he gave me screwed with my mind to make me need him to fuck me, which he would only do if the guy shot me up, so I could enjoy it, he said. He gave me the first one for free. I had to pay for the rest. You know how that goes. Sick shit. Pay him to shoot me up so he would fuck me to make the need go away, briefly. Yes, I stole, lied, and all that because he had me strung out. When I had nowhere else to get money to pay him, he shot me up with some other shit, dumped me with my back against the police station, and dumped a crap batch of shit in my pockets,” Yolonda said after a minute. “I was a good girl, David. I had straight-As until that homecoming party. That is all that saved me from being tried as an adult. My parents didn’t have a damn thing they could do, so they didn’t. I’ve gotten shunned ever since. So, you want a piece of my ass for me to get this job and move into your apartment?”
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