The car, with its silent occupant, rolled into the automatic car wash. Jets of warm, soapy water fanned back and forth across its metallic luster. Cloth strips, guaranteed to be the softest in Chicago, rubbed in little circles and bands back and forth across its skin.
Fondling the slightly phallic symbolistic cigarette lighter, Ray thought of that time he was in the shower washing off bugs from diseased horse meat, and his mother walked in on him and Benny. Her comment about him being like a baby stung, so of course he had to remind Fraser that all guys shrink in the shower. Yeah, the size of the lighter was just about like him in a cold shower. Ray grinned then pushed the lighter back into its receptacle. Perfect fit. Nice and tight, but not too tight. He didn't push it home, didn't rub the contacts against the electric leads inside that would start heating it up. He had no need to start a fire. Staring at the lighter, Ray rubbed his right hand across the bulge in the crotch of his slacks, and with his left, adjusted the soft cloth handkerchief draped across his left thigh.
But if he did, if he did need to push something deep into a nice, tight hole, to find the hot button inside, to heat things up, Ray knew exactly how to do it. The Riv's windows were covered in foam. Ray unzipped his slacks and pulled out his lighter. It was fat and quickly lengthened. He stroked it a few times. The car wash conveyor moved the Riv to the last set of brushes. The windshield was gently buffed, white suds rolled down the sides of Ray's obsession. Tall round pillars of cloth brushes whirred around the vehicle.
The cloth polished the suds from the vehicle. Ray stroked his hand up and down, matching the speed and gentle contact the brushes made on the body of his Riv. His lighter was fully erect now, so he worked the tip, running the fingers of his right hand around the head, then down the underside of the shaft. His breathing got rapid.
With a loud hiss, hard jets of rinse water began pounding on the Riv. Ray hissed between clenched teeth and began pounding his right hand up and down.
While the rinse water beat a cacophony on the roof Ray groaned loudly. His sound was lost amid the sounds the metal of the car made as the water beat it. Ray beat his lighter. Too fast, he protested. He wanted this to last a little longer, so as the rinse water shut off, leaving him in shocking silence, Ray jerked his right hand away. He pressed his left hand against his nuts and waited.
With a sputtering lack of rhythm the hot wax cycle started. Streams of water, mixed with liquid wax burst onto the Riv. With the jerking rhythm caused by his over-sensitized head, Ray renewed the pumping on his lighter. His hips were bucking now, his body quivering slightly, just as the Riv did on the car wash conveyor. Ray felt his nuts rise, ready to empty their load. He grabbed up the handkerchief and cupped it around the end of his lighter.
Warm, white jets of liquid sprayed into the soft cloth. Ray closed his eyes and relaxed. A few moments later another rinse cycle started and Ray stirred, folding the cloth closed around the liquid. He tucked his lighter away, then zipped his slacks closed.
When the rinse water shut off the Riv was moved forward under giant blowers that would remove the majority of the water. The Riv finished getting its blow job and rolled out into the sunlight of Chicago. Ray carefully placed his hands on the wheel, giving his vehicle gentle guidance. With a placid smile, he drove out of the parking lot.
From the passenger seat Constable Fraser sighed heavily. "I don't see why you won't allow me to participate, Ray. I realize last time I didn't co-ordinate my efforts on your equipment with the timing of the different cleaning cycles, but I think I have the rhythm down now."
"Not a chance, Benny. There are some things a man has to do for himself. Cleaning his car is apparently one of those things."
With a look of regret Constable Fraser shifted restlessly. "I see. But, now I do insist we return to my apartment so that I can place something of mine in the proper, tight receptacle."
Ray glanced briefly at his companion. "Want to push it in? See if things heat up enough to start you a fire?"
"Yes, Ray," Fraser said in a rather blatantly suggestive tone. With a vulgarity rarely expressed by the Canadian, he grabbed his bulging crotch and gave it a long squeeze.
Ray grinned, then pressed the gas pedal hard.
The End
Disclaimer: I am the Archangel of due South. Alliance is my fellow minion, holder of all copywrites. Due South is the tablet of commandments bestowed upon us by the Maker, Paul Haggis, that we may minister unto his creations. Heed the commandments well and ye shall find grace, everlasting. Blessed be TheCloset dwellers, for they are the inspiration of many a tale.