…Everyone in the area knew Day's Speed Shop. It wasn't just the eye-catching purple and orange paint job on the huge roller door. Nor a glimpse a passer-by might steal of the cavernous work area, lit day and night by huge movable banks of fluorescent strips. It was the gossip about Day's racing cars that made the shop famous. It was the growl of the Nascar that could be heard from streets away. A primeval rumbling that stirred the residents and cast a spell of the exotic on the mundane network of streets and houses…

The Torana filled the mirror, bright red, number plate SEX. It came closer, horn blaring. Paul Secchi. That woman of his, Lisa. Joe rammed the wagon back into fourth and swung to the outside lane to block them but the Torana came up fast on the inside. ‘Hi, Psycho Joe!’

Joe crunched hard on his lip. Glanced across. Paul Secchi. Watching him, not watching the road, square face arrogant, powerful. Joe hated him. Hated his car. Big deal present for his eighteenth. He got everything, Paul Secchi.

Joe's foot was still planted. Pedal to the metal. Engine straining. But Paul pulled ahead. Joe leant on the steering wheel, willing the wagon forward, feeling the pick-up at last…

…she smiled a wide slow smile. Yes. She had everything now. She snipped a small square photo from the page, took the folded white cloth and the black comb from under her neckline and laid them near her altar.

She took off her work clothes, turned out her light and pulled the curtains back from the window. Moonlight streamed in. She took a cloth from the side drawer of her dresser, sprinkled it with rosewater from a cut-glass decanter and, naked in front of her mirror, moon-clad, wiped the damp cloth slowly down each arm and out along her fingers. She returned to a point below her throat and wiped down to each nipple then down between her breasts to her pubes. She spread the damp towel over the decanter and slipped the dress of the High Priestess over her head.

The elements of the dress flowed into her. Her presence grew. The dress was cut deep under her breasts, their nakedness showing that her love was abundant and ever-available. Her resolute will was depicted by the full spread of material over her hips. The long skirt was seamless for passion and union…