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GREASE JOB
by Abe
I don't know if I should tell you this, about
Betty and Tom. Well, it has been a long time, and I'll
try to avoid last names. I guess it's OK. It all had
to do with Uncle Ted's garage, and I'll have to explain
that.
Stanford's one of those crossroads towns. In this
case, it's state route 92, where it crosses Blue Jacket
Creek, and county road 23, which runs more or less
along the creek, but on the higher ground. The
respectable part of town runs from the bridge, Miss
Tina's Tea Shoppe, west along state 92, up toward the
Stanford Central School. Uncle Ted had a garage, auto
repair and general black smithing, between the county
road and the creek. It was an old brick building. I
guess it was once a stable. When I was a kid, Ted
married a widow who had a little girl, Betty, and I
guess that made her my cousin, or step-cousin. Anyway,
Ted moved in with the widow, Aunt Edna, and continued
to run his garage in town until he died, and it was
boarded up. I guess it was for sale, but who would buy
such a place?
The summer when I was going into eighth grade, and
my brother, Tom, who was fourteen, was going into
ninth, I used to hang around with Tom and his friends.
I suppose they were a gang. The co-leaders were Carmen
and his brother, Frank, who was sixteen, going on
seventeen, but Frank had just finished eighth grade
with Carmen and Tom and the others, because they had
held him back. Carmen had the brains in the family,
and Frank was the enforcer, about six foot two and
built like a bear. Anyway, we used Uncle Ted's garage
as a sort of clubhouse.
Like I said, it was all boarded up, but out in
back was a big old oak tree. It wasn't hard to climb,
and if you shinnied out one of the big branches, you
could drop down onto the flat roof, which had a kind of
brick parapet around it. When I was younger, my
friends and I used to play Beau Geste and Robin Hood up
there. Anyway, there was a skylight, which let in some
light, even though the windows were all boarded shut,
and, over in the corner, there was a hatch, like an
upside down box, all tarred over. If you opened the
hatch, there were iron rungs set into the brick wall,
and you could climb down. It was full of old car
stuff, and there was an office in the back, with a
storage loft over it. There was a pit for servicing
cars, stuff like that, and an old blacksmith's forge
along one wall, with a big iron chimney that went up
and out through the wall. In the summer, the place was
kind of warm and stuffy, with the windows and doors
sealed shut.
One summer day, Steve and Nick and George came by
our house, and Tom went with them. I tagged along
after Tom. Steve said Frank had some new girly mags,
and we could see 'em down at the clubhouse. We met
Carmen and Frank, and the bunch of us went down along
the bank of the creek, so as not to be conspicuous.
Frank had a bag under his arm, and we were all anxious
to see what was in it. I don't know where he got those
magazines, but they weren't just your ordinary Playboy.
In the garage, we had stored Penthouse, London Gallery,
Swedish Erotica, even a copy of Spanking Times, and
some really weird ones in German. Tom says he thinks
Frank got them out of the dumpster behind the barber
shop. They sure as shit didn't sell them in Stanford.
Anyway, one by one we went up the tree and onto the
roof and down the rungs in the wall. Pretty soon, we
had the magazines out, and we were leafing through
them and making comments: "Wow, look at the tits on
that one." "Shit, there's no hair on her cunt." "How
can he put it in her in that position?" "How can they
get some woman to let them do that to her?" "It's
faked; the guy stands there with a whip and they draw
the streaks across her ass with lipstick or something."
All of a sudden, Carmen says, "Quiet! There's
someone on the roof." We dropped the magazines, and we
all hid in the dark office. Couple of seconds later,
Cousin Betty starts down the rungs in the wall. First
we see her sneakers, and that she's wearing jeans, then
her tee shirt, and finally her hair. She'd bleached it
and teased it or permed it or something, so it adds
about two inches to her height and falls in waves down
her back. She gets down, where we can't see her, or I
couldn't anyhow, and I hear her walk across the brick
floor and start messing with the magazines. We could
hear her flipping the pages. Carmen's crouching there
with his finger to his lips, and we're all quiet.
We hear Betty pause. She strikes a match and goes
through the cigarette ritual: sssss, inhaling, hhhhhh,
blowing out the smoke. She shouldn't have been
smoking; she's was only fifteen. Then we hear her
ripping up magazines, and we all crept out of the
office and watched. Her back was to us, and she was
ripping up the dirty pictures and piling them in the
forge, as if she was going to burn them.
Carmen and Frank grabbed her before she knew what
was happening, and Frank, who was a foot taller and
weighed twice what she did, had her on her back on the
floor in a second. He got behind her head, had her
arms out like a crucifix, and pinned her elbows to the
floor with his knees, so he had both hands free. She
squealed and screamed, but Frank put his left hand over
her mouth. Nobody could have heard her, anyway, not
through those brick walls, unless they had their ear
against the door or something.
Carmen picked up the cigarette she dropped and
waved it in her face. "You make any more noise, and
I'm going to stub this out on your cheek." She stopped
trying to scream. The look in her eyes was wild, like
the girls in those slasher movies, just before they get
chainsawed.
"You tore up our naked lady pictures," says
Carmen, "so we'll just have to look at you, instead."
He grabbed at the waist of her jeans and started to
undo them. Boy, did she struggle, flopped like a newly
landed fish, kicking and all that. George and Steve
each grabbed a leg and pulled off a sneaker, so, with
her legs pulled out straight, it didn't take Carmen
long to work her jeans down over her hips and down her
legs and off over her feet. She had on pink hip-hugger
panties, and they came off in seconds. Carmen grabbed
her tee shirt and pushed it up around her neck, and
then he got out his pocket knife.
Betty got real quiet when she saw that blade in
front of her face. Carmen cut the shoulder straps of
her bra and then he slipped the blade down between her
breasts and sawed at the bra, between the cups, until
it came apart and practically flew off. She had big
tits, big for a fifteen year old. Carmen put his knife
away and put one hand on each breast. Betty just
stared at him. Then Carmen got up and took one of her
feet. He pulled it up -- she wasn't strong enough to
prevent him -- and handed it to Frank, who grabbed her
ankle. Then the other leg, so Frank had her elbows
pinned beneath his knees, with her head practically in
his lap and her legs up in the air, in a vee.
"OK, guys," said Carmen. "Everybody gets a look
at the real thing." Her rump was up off the floor, the
way Frank lifted her ankles, and you could see
everything, ass hole and all. Carmen took hold of some
of her short hairs and pulled so that her cunt came
open. "Take a look."
George got down on his knees and peered into her.
"She's so pink," he said.
"Go ahead, touch it," said Carmen. George reached
out one finger and kind of rubbed her pinkness. Then
he stood up. Steve was next, and he took over holding
her cunt lips apart while Carmen had a good look and
pressed, there where the inner lips come together,
until Betty yelled. "OK," he said, "you asked for it."
He stuffed her panties in her mouth, and held them in
with friction tape from the workbench.
Nick took his turn, inspecting her very carefully,
as if she was a biology lab specimen or something.
"OK, Tom, and you," said Carmen. By the time it was my
turn to look, her inner lips were almost red, and they
seemed wet and slick. Tentatively, I reached out a
finger and touched. She was slippery.
"OK, Frank," said Carmen, "Your turn." Frank
didn't get up. He just lifted up on her ankles and
pulled back, so that her crotch was right in his face,
his nose practically in her cunt. When he had had a
good look, he put her down the way she had been, her
legs still spread in the air, but her butt resting on
the floor.
"What do we do next?" said George.
"Let's stick our pricks in her," said Steve.
"No!" yelled Tom.
"Why not?"
"Because that's rape. You could get twenty-five
years in the slammer for doing that."
"No," said Carmen, "we're juveniles. They can't
send us to jail."
"Yeah?" said Tom, "they can send us to the
reformatory and keep us there 'till we're twenty-one.
Don't rape her. She's under age, too. They'll call it
child molesting."
Nick held up a torn picture of a woman all tied
up, with a couple of guys with hoods and whips. "We
could whup her good, so she'd never come back here."
"No," said Tom. "What's the point? If we injured
her, left marks, why that's something she could show to
the police, and they'd be after us for sure."
Frank spoke for the first time: "We could stick
our pricks in her and whup her and then kill her, so
she couldn't tell."
"No, Frank," said Carmen. "Tom's right. We can't
do anything that hurts her, leaves marks, anything they
can take pictures of."
George was looking around the garage. He came
back with a big can, twenty-five pounds, I think, of
grease. "Yes," said Carmen, "that's it, a grease job.
Let go of her, Frank."
Frank let Betty's ankles go and got up off her
arms. She rolled over on her front and kneeled, her
arms crossed across her breasts, her knees pressed
together. Frank held her arms, while Carmen pulled off
her tee shirt and wrapped it around her wrists, for
padding. Then he bound them together tightly with
friction tape. They dragged her over to a chain lift.
It was meant for lifting engines and things; it was on
a kind of crane. Carmen put the hook between Betty's
wrists and pulled on the loop of chain. Slowly,
clanking away, the hook rose up and Betty dangled, her
feet a foot or so off the floor. She was making little
noises, "umf, umf," through her gag, and her eyes
rolled. Tom brought a chair for her to stand on, which
took the strain off her arms.
"Good idea," said Carmen. He brought another,
then arranged them about three apart, so that Betty had
a choice. She could hang from her wrists, or she could
stand, with one foot on each chair and her legs spread.
She chose to stand. "OK," said Carmen, "Everybody get
some grease." He pried the lid off with a screwdriver,
and reached in for a handful. The grease was bright
orange, and quite thick. When Carmen pulled his hand
out, the grease was stringy, like melted cheese on a
pizza. He slapped his handful right between her legs
and smeared it upward, over her belly. Steve packed
some in between the cheeks of her ass and then smeared
a thick layer over her butt, from waist to knees.
Frank, who was tallest, worked several handfuls into
Betty's hair, turning it bright orange. He modeled
the greasy hair into strange shapes. She had two big
orange horns, like Clarabelle the Clown, and he
plastered a lot of her hair over her face, even
covering her eyes, so she couldn't see who was doing
what to her. George and Nick took care of the rest of
her, rubbing grease into her breasts, covering every
bit of her body and legs, where ever they could reach,
even doing the soles of her feet. Steve found an old
pillow, which he tore open. They stuck feathers into
the grease, as if she had a feathered bathing suit on.
Tom and I just watched.
I thought that was the worst they could do to her,
but Frank found a grease gun and loaded it. He pressed
the end into her ass and pumped until she wouldn't stop
screaming through her gag. When he pulled it out, a
stream of yellow grease came out her ass hole, like
toothpaste from a tube. Then he stuck the gun into her
cunt and pumped until bloody grease was oozing out. I
really felt sorry for her; what a way to lose your
cherry.
After that, they couldn't think of anything worse
they could do to her that wouldn't leave her scarred or
crippled. Carmen wiped his greasy hands on her jeans,
and so did the others, and on the remains of the
pillow. "I think we'd better get out of here," said
Carmen. "One at a time, so people won't notice." One
by one, he sent Steve, Nick, and George up the ladder
of rungs, then Tom and me.
Tom said, "Aren't you going to let her go?"
"Later," said Carmen, "I'll come back later."
On the roof, Tom whispered to me to run home and
get some rags, towels, anything to clean up Betty, but
not to let anyone see me. Tom went and hid behind the
big skylight. Frank and Carmen didn't come out before
I left. I don't know what they were doing, and Tom
would never tell me.
I ran most of the mile home, and I got Ma's rag
bag, and some flour and feed sacks, a piece of old
blanket out of our barn, and a bar of yellow laundry soap.
Then I went back to the garage, going around by the
creek and trying not to be seen. When I got down the
ladder, Tom had Betty untied and ungagged. He was
trying to wipe the grease off her face. I didn't see
Carmen or Frank. I gave him the bag of stuff. "Thanks.
Now, get out of here, Kid," said Tom. "Tell Ma I won't
be home for supper. Say you think I've got a date, but you
don't know who. We'll have to wait for dark to get Betty
out of here. Can't let people see her all greasy."
The last I saw as I left was Betty standing, and
Tom wiping her butt with a soft rag. Nobody but us
boys and Betty ever knew what went on in the garage
that day. Somehow, Betty got home and got cleaned up,
hair washed, without her parents finding out about the
grease job. After that, Tom and Betty saw a lot of
each other, went steady through high school. Then Tom
went off to college, and Betty married a truck driver
from Steubenville. It all worked out pretty well. She
even got revenge on Carmen and Frank, but that's
another story.
[END]
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