Bouncing down the stairs, two steps at a time, Tamara thought about the packages that had just arrived, hoping they'd contain parts and gear needed to get a few of the cars occupying space around the garage out of their spaces and back out onto the road. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she stepped out into the garage and walked straight over to the packages, which the postal service had left on the floor, one on top of a second and one sitting next to it.

Picking up the first two packages, she walked over to a nearby work counter and set them down, letting out a quiet 'whoosh!' as she did. These must be the two starters I ordered, she thought, remembering that two of the vehicles outside needed replacement starters. Opening them up, she carefully took out each starter, examining both of them carefully and making sure they were good to go. Let me think...this one goes to the Tundra 4-by and this one goes to that jet-black Dodge Ram, she mused, setting each one down and making sure they couldn't be knocked down onto the floor...

The shower didn't even have a shower curtain. Bits of water pattered onto the floor as Bianca stepped out. She didn't grab her own clothes. Instead she moved through the closet and found some shorts that belonged to Tamara. Soft pink shorts of a cotton fabric and said booty-licious across the back. Not something she would ever buy for herself, but shorts were shorts and it was hot. She pulled on one of Tamara's black tank tops and an old hoody and pulled her hair back.

Bianca let her hair fall over one shoulder as she looked at one of the packages Tamara had accidentally left behind. She wanted to open it. Her curiousity was greater than her sense of caution sometimes, but she picked the package up and stuffed it under her arm. Bringing it downstairs Bianca got ready to face the firing squad. She was sure that in the next hour or so her car would be fixed and she'd be expected to hit the bricks. Either that or she would get downstairs and find the cops waiting for her. Either way she wasn't really looking forward to today's eents. All of her options really just kind of sucked.

Hearing someone behind her, Tamara turned and smiled; it was Bianca, holding one of the three delivered packages. "Hey, babe," Tamara said, pointing towards the package Bianca was holding. "I see you found the package of spark plugs and wiring I ordered; you gonna' open it or should I open it and show you what's inside?" a sly smile across her face as she spoke.

The soft steady racing pulse in Tamara's neck tasted like sweat and accomplishment. Bianca's arm draped over her naked form as the silk sheets hugged her hip and hinted at the outline of her fantastic body. . The sheets stuck to her skin and even if she were to stand right now she would be covered. Her modesty hidden by the adhesive nature of her ability and gravity defying physics of the sheet stuck to her; covering all the good bits. Bianca was still smiling. "What happens now? You own me now like your little prison bitch?" She joked. Bianca was only half joking as she had actually humored the idea.

Stirring in her bed, Tamara slowly awoke, feeling a lot better than she had in quite some time; it'd been a while since she'd shared a bed with another woman and it still surprised her that it was the very same woman she'd confronted the day before. Leaning up in bed, naked in all her prison-tatted glory, she smirked. "Well, we're not in prison, babe, so...," she said, getting out of bed and walking over to her - Tamara rarely wore clothes when she was the only one around and no one from the shop below was allowed upstairs, so she sometimes had to remind herself to put something on - holding her from behind and resting her chin on her shoulder. "But we definitely had one helluva time last night, didn't we?" It wasn't hyperbole either; Tamara was pretty sure she had set her own record for the number of orgasms she had last night and she was also damn sure she'd given Bianca a lot of them as well.

Birds were chirping outside as Bianca nustled up into Tamara's arms. Her skin would stick to Tamara's but she really didn't care. The cuddling and the warmth were both welcome strangers in her eyes and she could use a bit of both. Just feeling loved would be refreshing for a change and she wouldn't rightly mind that much either. Bianca sighed as there was a soft knock on the door. Her eyes flicked over to the door wondering who the hell could be calling on the mysterious woman at this hour. And though yes, a small pang of jealous touched at her nerves she played it cool and casual and simply asked. "You gonna get that?"

For a long time Tamara was tempted to say 'to hell with whoever's knocking!' but she also knew with the shop opening soon she probably did need to get that. "Hang on, babe," she said to Bianca, giving her a kiss on the cheek as she walked back to the bedroom and grabbed a short silk robe - the thing barely came down to mid-thigh - slipping it on and walking over to the apartment door, the stairs of which led down to the shop. "Yeah, who it is?" she said over the intercom.

"Postal Service," came the reply. "You got three packages from O'Reilly Auto; where do you want me to leave them?"

For a moment Tamara thought about what they could be, then realized she knew exactly what they were. "Set them down at the foot of the stairs, next to the intercom. Thanks," she said, cutting off the intercom. Smiling at Bianca, she walked back over and hugged her once more. "Now," she said, in-between kisses, "where were we again?"

Hearing Bianca tell her to surprise her brought a quiet chuckle to Tamara as she thought, kind of hard to surprise you when someone lays out your choices for you. Nonetheless, she made a pastrami and rye for herself, a ham/turkey on rye for Bianca and brought them both back to the living room. Setting the second sandwich down for Bianca, Tamara said to her, "I couldn't decide which, so you get the ham and turkey and I get the pastrami," a sheepish grin crossing her lips as she spoke.

Yes, Tamara wanted Bianca; there was just something about her that attracted the ex-felon to the younger woman but she wasn't the type to jump someone's bones at the first chance. She honestly wanted to know Bianca better, if not for any other reason than to keep Bianca from trying to steal from her. Yes, felons could spot other felons a mile away and Tamara wasn't foolish enough to completely open up without getting the other person to open up themselves as well. It was only fair, right?

Noticing her staring at a picture of her and her sister, Tamara said to Bianca, "And that other impish rogue next to me there would be my late sister Sarah...I said late because she died in a drive-by shooting when she was 15. Someone apparently thought they'd seen me and decided to open up on the stoop they saw us on and Sarah didn't duck fast enough." Tamara said it with a nonchalance born of her former gang life, adding, "and once we found out who did it, we put paid to their accounts," also with the same manner of speaking as before. Yes, it hurt to miss her; that's why she kept the photo where she did: as a reminder to her to not fall back into her former life...but seeing someone else notice it? That also brought back a bit of pain to her as well, knowing a part of her was forever gone, a hole that could never be filled. That's what it meant to lose a sibling, a twin; it was like losing your arm.

Looking back over at Bianca, Tamara could tell something was troubling her and in-between bites of pastrami she said, "I can already see the thought bubble in your mind, Bianca; its' saying 'am I going to have to put out for this gorgeous stranger whose house I happen to be in?' Well, the answer is no...though every fiber in me," Tamara said quietly, looking away as well for a moment, "wants to pin you down on that couch and ravage you from head to toe...but you're my guest here, so I'm going to have to turn that down. I'll sleep out here on the couch tonight; you can sleep on the bed," pausing back and leaning over towards Bianca, "'cause its' a lot more comfortable than this couch. That is, unless you want me to join out there as well?" her impish grin back as she took bite of her sandwich and waited for a reply from Bianca...

What the fuck was her problem? Tamara wondered. I'm trying to keep things as calm as possible, I've offered to fix her vehicle - if it is hers', which I doubt, I've offered her a place to rest for the night, no strings attached...what the fuck is her problem? But as she listened to Bianca, Tamara felt a tug of pain and heartache, the kind only felt by felons and ex-felons whenever you tried to build a life outside the bars, only to have it yanked out from under you at every opportunity. She chuckled a moment when Bianca backsidedly complimented her on her looks and thought, Honey, if we were inside, you'd be my girlfriend and it wouldn't be your choice either.

"I've been on my own since I was 14. I had to lie and cheat and steal just to even make it. My sister.... Well, lets just say she wouldn't exactly be proud of me. She's a hardass, with a hard ass. She's miss by the book and she would have thrown the book at me if she knew half the shit I've done. I was going to rob you, you know. I was going to give you the night of your life and then I was going to rob you fucking blind. My sticky fingers would have stolen everything that wasn't nailed down. Hell, you probably would have woke up missing one of your socks because I'm a klepto baby! Just can't help it. Diagnosable and certifiable I am fucked up and I need help. You know what the worst part is? I know I'm a fuck up and I choose to be this way," Bianca said.

"Okay, so you're a thief; big fucking deal!" Tamara exclaimed, getting up from the couch and walking over to the window, staying away from the window so as not to be seen from the outside. "You ever done time on the inside, huh? I don't mean juvenile or jail; I mean prison...hard, mean prison, where every day you wake up wondering 'am I going to have to shank someone in the side or am I going to have to suck off some guard just to keep their prying eyes away or am I  going to get to take some fresh young girl under my wing as my girlfriend, to use whenever and however I wanted....that was my life the past couple years!" walking away from the windows as memories of her past flooded her mind; folding her arms over her chest, Tamara was all but ready to get her .38 and put a hole in Bianca's head but for some strange reason, she didn't. She was a hard-as-nails felon, sure, but she wasn't a murderer, not by any stretch of the imagination.

She continued. "At least you're not the only one who's run the streets; I been doing that since I was thirteen. Drank my first beer that year and it just snowballed from there," walking over to take a long drag from her Miller High Life, finishing it off in one drag. "Ran with a small gang back up on Six Mile; snorted coke, popped pills, smoked joints...had all sorts of fun. Barely got out of Cass Technical with a diploma; fat lot of good it did me. But I'm still alive...and so are you," she said, a hard cold stare on her face as she walked back over to her at the window.

"Now, I promised I'd fix your car - even if its' not your car - and I will; I'm a woman of my word and where I come from, your word is like gold; its' as good as your name," pausing as she looked away for a few seconds before looking back at Bianca. "Now, if you want to leave, you're free to do so; not going to stop you....but I am going to get one thing from you, though, before you leave," she added. Before Bianca could say or do anything, Tamara reached over, cupped her face with her hands, pulled her over and kissed her, right there, in full view of the window and anyone who might be watching.

For several moments, Tamara's lips and tongue washed over Bianca's, kissing her where they stood....then she pulled back, standing where she had been standing. Looking out the window, she said, "If you still want to go, you can; I won't stop you." Tamara was gambling, though, that Bianca wouldn't leave...

It took some work, and a lot of talking, but pretty soon Tamara, to her surprise given her own temperament, was able to deescalate things back down to a normal, everyday kind of manner; as Bianca was getting herself unstuck, Tamara yelled out to Todd, "Hey yo, Todd, get the tow truck and pull the Lincoln here over to the parking lot," which was next to the garage, "and leave it there; I'll take a look at it tomorrow, okay?" standing in-between the young girl and the garage. All things being equal, Tamara already had two thoughts going in her mind as she watched Todd climb into the garage's tow truck and those were (1) that the girl standing next to her was not Mackayla Jones or whatever name she'd given her and (2) that the Lincoln was not hers'. The second point was easy for Tamara; she might be a two-time felon but she wasn't stupid; the sooner they could get the Lincoln out of sight of the road - and out of sight of any cops! - the better for everyone.

"Yeah, I think I could use a drink and could I use your phone by chance?" She had to call Blake. The asshole was probably half in and half out of a drunken stupor, but she wanted to ask if she could pay rent next week and get the key back to her place. At the very least she didn't want to sleep under a bush tonight.

After much thought - and much checking out the young girl; Tamara judged her to be either 17 or 18 by the looks of her appearance - she nodded her head. "Yeah, I think we can swing both; come on," she replied, smiling and nodding back towards the garage. Her place was above the garage, a second-floor residence that was furnished but spartan in its' appearance...but it was all hers'. The place had two entrances; Tamara led them towards the front entrance, which connected to the garage. As they walked back into the garage and headed upstairs, Tamara could feel the young girl's eyes on her and knew she was being checked out; for what, she didn't know. She had two good possibilities in mind, however; the first was that the girl was checking her out in order to rob her and if that were the case, it'd be the absolute last mistake the girl would ever make in her life. Despite being a felon, Tamara always kept a long-bladed switchblade on her and she knew how to use it; she also, whenever she drove the tow truck, kept a revolver on her and she also knew how to use it as well.

On the other hand, she mused, she might be checking out in a romantic kind of way, which actually intrigued Tamara as she exclusively swung with women and not with men. It wouldn't be the first time a girl had checked her out in that way but Tamara's sexual conquests were long and industrious, going all the way back to her high school days at Cass Technical when she not only had a long list of students who'd been her girlfriends but also one or two of the female teachers there who had fallen prey to her charms. It hadn't been all on the outside, either; she also had gathered up a large number of girlfriends inside as well. In other words, she knew how to seduce another female and if that was the young girl was trying to do to her now...boy, was she in a for a surprise! Tamara devilishly thought.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Tamara unlocked the door and opened it, stepping inside so that the young girl behind her could enter as well. "Anyway, welcome to Casa Tamara," she quipped, smiling as she added, "now, tell me what your name is...not the one you gave outside, miss, but your real name," her voice no longer warm and friendly but cold and hard.

Tamara's Repair Shop - Detroit, Michigan

---

Now where is that motherfucking nut? Tamara whispered as she stood, bent over the engine of a Porsche 911, replacing several belts and hoses and lamenting the abuse the sports car had taken. Why can't people treat these vehicles with the respect due them? she wondered. It was a question she often asked herself whenever someone would bring in an automobile; from small compacts to high-end performance vehicles, Tamara Lyell was a genius at repairing them, getting them back to running like they were just coming out of the factory. It was one of the few legit skills she had on this earth and she was damn proud of it. In the land of mutants and strangers, she occasionally mused, having an encyclopedic knowledge was like gold in your pocket.

It was also what had helped her start her repair shop; before she'd been arrested several years before on a robbery beef that sent her up the river for a few years, she had squirreled away almost all of the nearly 100k in money that she'd robbed from some high-end business down in River Rouge and when she'd gotten out of the Black Iron Prison (her words for describing prison in general), she'd gone right back to that spot, fished the money out and used it to buy an old repair shop from a retiring mechanic, turning it into one of the better auto repair businesses in the Motor City.

Of course, what made it such a great place was her Wikiesque knowledge of car repair and mechanics, which meant she could, unless it was one of the super super high-end sports cars, pretty much repair anything within reason. Her shop was also a place of solace, of oasis, for her in this world, a place she called home - which was literally the truth, as she'd turned the second floor above the repair shop into a nice, if spare, residence, complete with kitchen, living room, bathroom and bedroom.

She also had a simple rule which dovetailed with her view of the repair shop as an oasis: everyone was welcome there....except for GADEM agents; those motherfuckers, in her view, could rot in hell. Everyone else, though, was welcome.

"How's that Porsche coming along?" one of her mechanics asked.

"I'm about to take a damn welder's torch to these damn hose fittings," Tamara replied, stepping back from under the hood and taking several deep breaths in an effort to calm herself down. "Why do people do this shit to such nice vehicles?" she added. "Do they not follow the fucking directions?" she said, slamming the hood down and wiping the grease off her hands. "I'm going to head upstairs, shower, change clothes and grab a bit to eat; mind the shop, okay?" she said, making sure everything was in place before leaving to head upstairs....tell me it ain't going to be one of those days, she whispered.