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... "The other one is Dawn, Gigi's s****r." I looked back and Dawn was still looking at me with that same smile, now slowly swivelling her chair back and forth by her hips. I looked away again, feeling a heated flush make its way up my body, suddenly knowing why she was smiling at me like that. It was the same kind of smile the guys were giving us, but a lot more intense. And that's when I noticed the posters along the walls. My eyes widened as I checked them out, each of them featuring a different woman from about mid-thigh up. I could tell they weren't professional models, but they were all attractive and all covered in some sort of oil or fluid and, at the bottom of these homemade posters, scripted characters identified them with titles such as, 'Miss 10w30', or, 'Miss Dexron I', and so on. Most of them were braless, some in panties and some in sexy shorts, all of them posing with a smile. Seeing my eyes and how they looked around at them, Gigi voiced what I'd noted a few minutes before with a laugh. "Not exactly like the Audi dealership, huh?" "Um, not really," I admitted, my eyes inexplicably dropping to his slightly hairy chest for a split second that totally mortified me. "Mom was just telling me that the dealership is the last place anybody should take their car," I said. I took this right off the top of my head in order to socially pave over my little indiscretion with his chest, but Mom didn't seem to notice it and, if Gigi did, he didn't seem to mind. Hey, it wasn't ...

... as if his eyes weren't all over us, right? "She's right," Dick affirmed. "Bought a new Chevy truck about five years ago and it was the biggest piece of shit I've ever owned, and the most I've ever paid for any vehicle, at that. Worst of all, they jerked me around with the warranty while the fuckin' thing rotted to pieces. Frame, body and everything. Lost my brakes one night and ended up on somebody's lawn, so I got under the thing the next day and found the front brake line rotted through. Checked the other ones, and they were all rotted to shit, too, same as the steel power steering line. And all of them had little stickers on them that said, 'Made in China'. Yeah. Once the engine started knocking and leaking oil, all I could do was sell the pig for what I could get out of it just so I could wash my hands of it." Mom clucked her tongue in disgust, shaking her head as Gigi weighed in with a story of his own. The whole time, both of these men were checking us out, and Mom never seemed to mind. In fact, I'm sure she enjoyed it as much as she obviously enjoyed conversing with them. I couldn't believe it, and I listened as she threw her two cents in. "I think the problem," she opined, "is that they've come to realize they can make as much money from their customers in the parts and service aspect of their operations as they can from actually selling the car, so they intentionally design flaws into them. I mean, just think of how much money they must make from the replacement parts ...