The Mechanic and I have a most interesting and convoluted story. He was friends with the Black Belt (goodbye rules 1, 2 and 3 here!) and we bonded over a shared love of fast cars and burnt tires. Then we really bonded when at a NYE party my Black Belt and his nutjob girlfriend were getting all too friendly together on a trampoline. So we decided to plan our own revenge and retired to a bedroom, where honest-to-god we just chatted and laughed, with the door deliberately locked. The hushed whispers that ensued in our friendship group could’ve drowned out an entire concert.
Our friendship grew stronger, and flirtier. Eventually we started boldly saying dirty things (via text) to each other, and then doing dirty things to each other.
Most memorably, how he told the crazy ex and his family and all our friends that he got drunk and fell shirtless into a thorn bush. In actual fact, I clawed my approval into his back and neck. Or how when away on a friend-group holiday, we drove to get marshmallows and “got stopped for a breathalyser twice!” aka had contortionist sex in his tiny fast car.
The Mechanic also gave rise to one of my awkward life moments. Perhaps the most awkward. Down on this holiday, I couldnt get the whole time off work so I drove down to spend a couple of days, as a few of us were doing on odd days. Thus the bed situation was fluid. Meaning that one night I had to sleep in the same bed as the Black Belt AND the Mechanic. Halfway through the night I woke up with a hand around my hip with NO IDEA whos hand it was. To this day I’m still not sure.
The Mechanic and I stopped when we got back together with our respective partners (aka the breaks were over) We had so much fun, hooning our cars, having sex in wildly inappropriate places sometimes at the top of our lungs, sometimes in hushed silence for fear we’d get busted.