Car Lesbians

Introduction to Car Lesbians:

Debbie looked at Heather, her life-partner [the game is from before equal rights for gay marriage were reluctantly granted] and driving companion, sparing only a second to glance into the rear view mirror.

“Are they still on our ass?” Heather asked, her brows knitted with worry, biting her lower lip. Debbie gave a solemn nod and said, “Like a cheap thong.”

Behind them only a scant few meters, the dreaded Redhead Rebellion [give your race car/racing team a colorful name] was cruising up at 160 mph, [strange that the distance is in metric and the speed in the United States Customary System, which is based on British Imperial units] giving them a chilly run for their money. The driver, the infamous Crimson Nail and her crew chief, Monkey Wrencher, were glaring daggers at their damaged, smoking car, only barely in the lead. [it sounds like the protagonist’s car is the one in bad shape]

“What do we do?”

Debbie looked to the one woman she never wanted to let down again [how did Debbie let Heather down before? was this common in the past?] and shifted into overdrive, hammering the car against the wind, the frame rattling, tires squealing and passenger dripping a small pool in the seat beside her. [presumably a reference to Heather’s pussy being dripping wet because she was turned on by the excitement of the race and presumably leading to one of the lesbian make-out sessions while racing.]

“We give ‘em a run for their money, sweetness,” she said, patting Heather’s tanned, taut thigh. Slowly, her hand migrated up to the knee and beyond, to the dahboard, where it brushed lovingly against a switch rarely used, marked with three letters.

After it was flicked, behind their car, a stream of red oil slicked the track, [a reference to James Bond’s car having an oil slick mechanism] sending the Redhead Rebellion into the guard rail and a section of empty seats, out of the race and into the headlines.

“PMS saves the day, sweetness,” she said, her tongue licking her lips luxuriously. Beside her, still quivering with anticipation of the fun to follow in the winner’s circle, Heather unbuttoned another clasp on her top, sighing softly…

—Car Lesbians

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