There's a particular character that makes an appearance here for a particular someone who specifically asked for them (and their name doesn't end in a Y). - Genie
Oh PS the rating has changed, I wouldn't necessarily read too much into it...it was just time.
Chapter 12: Stilettos and Broken Bottles in My Rearview Mirror
In order to preserve their anonymity in terms of Jesse knowing who they are, Brittany and Santana decide to take separate cars to the designated race area just outside of old Vegas city limits, ironically only a few miles from the Pierce operation. Also, for obvious reason, they'll need their own cars if they hope to separately enter that race and respectively win. It'll be the first time Brittany will be trying out her GT, but she trusts the process that she and Santana have gone through with it, and she knows their modifications will run smoothly and execute perfectly. They do appear to be, after all, a well oiled machine when running together.
In order to keep both parties in the loop about all things that are going on, Jake, the muscle of Santana's crew, is riding with Brittany and Sugar is riding with Santana. And to top it all off, each nonracer is equipped with a handy dandy little walkie talkie, which despite Brittany's pleading, Jake has not let her touch.
"I just want to use it once. Just once." Brittany says from the driver's seat. She's the lead car guiding the rest of the combined crew to their intended destination. For this particular part of the plan, it's only beneficial to have Brittany and Santana (and their respective passengers), Puck, Mike, Cooper and Joe along for the ride. Four cars, four racers and better odds. Not that Brittany's worried about her odds; it's just nice to have that security.
"I'm sorry Ms. Pierce but there were strict orders from my boss saying that only the passengers would get the walkies. Wouldn't want to distract you from driving." Jake supplies in response to Brittany's plead. She frowns in return.
"You do realize that I'm the leader of the other half of the crew right?"
"Yes, Ms. Pierce but Ms. Lopez is my boss."
"What's with the Ms. shit? Were you in the military?" Brittany questions the guy, finding it very strange to be addressed so formally, especially by someone practically the same age as her.
"It's just proper form ma'am." Jake replies and Brittany quirks an eyebrow.
"You know what else is proper form? Letting a girl talk on a walkie. So, whatda you say? Hook a sister up?" Brittany tries to persuade Jake even more, but still it appears he won't budge as he gives her a short shake of his head.
"Sorry ma'am, I don't disobey orders."
"While loyal, your form sucks sir. Sorry to say." She grumbles just under her breath.
"Lil' Puckerman, how's the situation going?" Santana's voice suddenly comes over the walkie in Jake's hand. Brittany gasps as if completely scandalized. She can't believe that Sugar gave up her walkie so easy; she can't believe that she's flipping her shit over something like a walkie-talkie. Jake sends a guilty look towards Brittany before bringing the device to his mouth.
"Situation's good boss. Umm Ms. Pierce has requested to talk on the walkie." He mumbles, the last part a little quieter than the rest but Brittany still catches it. She scoffs.
"You're supposed to say 'over' when you're done talking!"
"If she wants to use the walkie Jake let her. But if she crashes, that's totally on her." Santana's voice then comes over the wavelengths and Jake nods, despite knowing his boss cannot see him. He hesitantly hands the device over to Brittany who smirks triumphantly and does an internal happy dance. Some things just really mean a lot in certain situations. She raises the electronic gadget to her mouth and presses the talk button, a coy smile tugging at her lips.
"Thanks angel face," Brittany addresses Santana and she can just barely hear the scoff the other woman lets out, "And just an FYI, Sugar you are so on mop duty when we get back. Over."
####################
As it turns out, the designated race area is just a simple abandoned warehouse parking lot that stretches a good half a mile on clean asphalt. When the Pierce and Lopez crews pull into the pit area, they are a little surprised to see more than a few cars and people there already, most of whom Brittany does not recognize. There seem to be a lot of out of town crews running this game tonight; word must have gotten out about the money pot. Lots of stuff at stake now, and she'd wager there could be a potential twenty mill in the metaphorical bag as of now. She lets out a low whistle at that thought, parking her GT in a vacant spot and watching as Santana's Nissan, Puck's Bugatti Veyron, and Mike's Lamborghini Gallardo (he likes them Lambo doors) pull up in the spots next to her.
As each individual steps out of their car, Brittany notices right away the attention they all seem to draw. In particular, the attention that Santana seems to draw. Not that she blames anyone for looking because Santana is a certifiable twenty on a scale of one to ten, but she's going to bust in some teeth if anyone does anything so much as a puff out of looking at her. Even then, they'd better keep their leering mildly appropriate, or Brittany's ready for a fight. Brittany tries not to let the fact that she's mentally preparing to lay a smack down on anyone who so much as looks at Santana, or so help him God touches her, when she's not even dating the woman. In fact, she's still not even close to being sure where they stand. Brittany just knows she doesn't want anyone else stepping in and thinking they've got a chance, not until her turn is full and worked out.
It's a nice little surprise to Brittany when Santana rounds her car and immediately takes a position next to her. Not so much looking as though they're together, but not exactly discouraging that thought from entering anyone's minds. As far as Santana is concerned, the sooner they can get this over with and get out of here, the better.
"Racers?" A voice inquires, it's much quieter than Brittany would expect to hear at such a supercharged place. There are tons of cars revving around them, and bass beats pumping out of makeshift speakers on the edges of the lot. Brittany looks up and is met with very unique hazel eyes and wavy ringlets of dark brown and streaked caramel hair. A second goes by where Brittany finds herself wondering if she knows this girl before Mike is, thankfully, speaking up next to her.
"Yeah. Four of us," Mike replies as he points to himself, Puck, Brittany and Santana, "We heard there was a few qualifying races going down tonight for some shot at a larger pot of cash." Brittany's glad that Mike spoke up because his words snap her back to reality. It wasn't so much that she was admiring the other girl, though if she's being honest it's not like that would be a crime either-plenty of things to admire there, but she was more than not shocked that she didn't recognize her. Brittany knows everyone in the Vegas racing world, whether they be racers, bunnies, fans or moochers.
But this girl before her is one giant ball of mystery, and not in the sexy 'want to get to know her more' way that Santana is for Brittany.
"I would say you've all come to the right place then. I'm Brooke, and Edgar over there," The woman who has formally introduced herself as Brooke says as she points off into the distance at her right, Brittany's eyes follow her direction and find a large muscle looking man with a bald head standing a few feet away from what looks like the entrance to one of the warehouses, "He can get you set up and registered for the race. Mr. St. James requires everyone to give proper identification and install a special computer chip in their car before the race."
Brittany's eyes are still examining the spot that Edgar is standing outside of, and she quickly notices that she's not the only one giving a really intense stare. The only difference? Edgar's stare is fucking one step past creepy and has entered into that menacing evil henchman look. Almost like he knows Brittany. She averts her eyes in the subtlest way possible and nods at Brooke.
"Thanks. I guess we'll head over there." She says and Brooke gives Brittany, and the rest of the racers a tight-lipped smile before moving on to the next round of people conversing in the area. With a glance towards Santana, Brittany finds that she too is tense and a lot uptight, probably not liking the situation any more than she herself. Brittany glances towards Mike and receives a nod in return.
"Alright, lets go register and get this shit done. The faster we're in that warehouse as opposed to outside of it, the faster we can get into Jesse's head and start bringing him down." She says and with vague nods of agreement from everyone else, they walk casually over to where Edgar stands.
##################
"You're not scared now are you pretty boy?" Brittany asks as she revs the engine of the GT once more, front tires on the edge of the starting line, three other cars lined up parallel to her, her now trusty buddy Jake sitting ridged in the passenger seat. He turns his light brown eyes in Brittany's direction, and steels his expression. Brittany admires him for his determination.
"No ma'am. I've just always been a little tense the moments before the race." He replies and Brittany grins.
"Why? That's the best part?" She exclaims, and her eyes focus on the trigger girl who walks to the safe zone area in front of the cars, bullhorn in hand ready to announce the start of the race. Jake swallows nervously next to Brittany.
"It also happens to be the part where, statistically speaking, things are most likely to go wrong." He mumbles and Brittany just laughs.
"Head up champ, you're riding with me. The only thing you have to worry about is holding your shit because we're about to go damn fast."
Jake doesn't have the time nor the drive to reply, however, because in the next second the starting signal is being given by the trigger girl and Brittany is slamming her foot down on the gas pedal as she tears her other foot off the clutch. She loves the way the GT's back tires spin as they take a moment to grip the asphalt and then catapult the car forward. She instantly takes the other cars by a length, and the rest of the race, as they say, is history.
Thankfully, Jake manages to hold onto his shit for the duration of the ride.
###############
Santana's Nissan is lined up at the starting line with the three other cars she will be racing, some three minutes after she witnessed Brittany and her GT burst out of the gate, figuratively speaking, and hurl down the quarter mile track. She has no doubt that even without the NOS that she and Brittany installed in the car, Brittany will have no trouble winning her race. They didn't exactly pit her against anyone too difficult.
"Oh this is so exciting!" Sugar exclaims from the passenger seat and Santana raises her eyebrow at the bouncing in her seat with overwhelming excitement girl. She kind of wishes that they could have left their passengers out for the racing, but apparently having someone else in the car is a common thing for Jesse during any of the races he hosts, sponsors, or participates in. According to him, it keeps the driver honest and makes sure they know they're responsible for the well being of someone else. In other words, it allows less dirty shit to go down.
Santana just thinks its fucking cop-out, but whatever, its Jesse's rules in this race. She just hopes that Sugar will not be too overly squeal like and distract her.
"Sugar, can you do me a favor?" Santana inquires as she watches the trigger girl step up in front of the line of cars in preparation to start the race. Santana glances towards the passenger seat and finds her passenger looking at her with rapt attention. Well, that's good at least.
"I know this will be exciting for you but I need you to try to be as quiet as you can. I'll need all the concentration I can get, and I'll need to be able to hear the engine noises to know when I need to execute certain things."
Sugar nods furiously.
"Okay, got it sure. Even though, like, I still think this racing thing is silly." She starts to say and Santana narrows her eyes at her. "Well not for you or Brittany of course, I just don't understand why some people have such ugly cars sometimes."
Santana has never been more thankful that it's common for her to race without her windows rolled down because she's sure that Sugar is referring to the less than attractive lime green old school, spinner wheeled, supped up Ford Taurus next to them. It's definitely not very easy on the eyes, but Santana does not need the driver knowing that she or her passenger think that. Especially before a race.
"Well, it's not always about how the car looks." Santana explains, finding it very strange that she's actually talking about this to Sugar. But she doesn't really get the chance to give it much thought because in the next second, the trigger girl is standing on the pavement in front of her car and is in the final stages of preparing to signal the start of the race. Now Santana is focusing all of her attention on the sound of the car humming beneath her.
Damn straight that purr is sexy.
When she opens her eyes the race start is signaled and she shifts the Nissan into first and blasts the car into action. Nine point eight seconds later, and one successful spurt of NOS usage, and Santana is passing the finish line in first place and joining Brittany in the winner's circle as they wait for Puck and Mike to finish their respective races.
It's a good feeling being first. It's a good feeling being first and earning that knowing smile from Brittany in the process. Santana's heart does an involuntary flip before she's back to being distracted by watching her acquaintances race. But her mind doesn't really stray too far from thinking about what it might be like on the dance floor later.
She just hopes she's prepared for that.
##################
"Congratulations to all of you. There were a fine number of racers this evening and it is my pleasure to welcome you all into the next step and the next level of my little soirée in your quest to earn that ever growing pot." Jesse St. James himself greets the small crowd of fifteen racers who successfully bested their counterparts and secured a spot in the winner's circle. Four of which include Brittany, Santana, Mike and Puck.
Brittany glances in Santana's direction to see her reaction to the greasy haired looking guys speech, satisfied when she sees a look of slight disgust crossing Santana's face.
"Now, if you all would be so kind to join me and my lovely crew, and some of our specially invited guests for the evening, in the warehouse where there will be lots of fine dancing, mingling and plenty of drinks to go around. I want to make it clear that I want to get to know each and every one of you personally because these next few races that I will be hosting won't only be a way for me to widdle out the really good from the not so great, but you will get the chance at the money and a spot, or two, on my crew where I can promise you, you will surely make more money than is in the pot if you do your job right." Jesse continues to address the crowd before he hops down from his makeshift stage and walks towards the area that Brittany witnessed Edgar 'guarding' earlier. The rest of the crowd begins to follow him into the warehouse.
As soon as they make it into the warehouse, Brittany and Santana, with Mike, Puck, and the rest of their respective crews following behind, are immersed in a world of techno beats and laser lights flashing across a bare but suitable dance floor. There's an area set up in the corner for a bar and some couches to lounge in. Brittany also takes note of the now one hundred plus people she doesn't know surrounding them. She feels Santana press into her from the side and she glances over admiring the woman in her skin hugging dress once again. In fact from this angle, Brittany can surely see down...
"Eyes up here, once again." Santana interrupts Brittany's gaze and quirks her eyebrow when blazing blue eyes meet her own. Brittany smirks.
"Sorry, they're hard to ignore." She says cheekily and Santana's eyebrow just rises higher. She's about to interject when Brittany leans forward and whispers in her ear, just above the music. "Can I get you a drink, maybe that dance?"
Santana takes a moment to size Brittany up before an easy smile straightens out her lips.
"You can get me a drink. I'll think about the dance." She says just as coyly back and Brittany can't help but chuckle slightly. She nods but before she steps away she leans in again to whisper hotly in Santana's ear.
"Trust me beautiful, once you see me dancing it will be hard for you to say no." And with that she turns around and makes her way towards the bar area. She's going to get Santana something sexy so she knows that Brittany's not playing around tonight.
#################
It takes Brittany a lot longer to get her and Santana's drinks than she anticipated it would, but the thought of sipping her beer as she watches Santana down her aptly named Screaming Orgasm will surely be worth the wait. Brittany has a few tingles running down her spine when she thinks of how much she'd like for that drinks name to become a reality in the case of Santana, and if she can just get her alone she knows it's bound to happen.
With a smirk on her face, Brittany turns back towards the dancing crowd and starts making her way through in the direction that she last left Santana. Unfortunately, it appears she left the woman alone for a little longer than she should have because when she spots Santana again, she is no longer by herself like Brittany previously saw her. Brittany finds her brain reminding herself that it would be unlikely that such an incredibly sex on legs type woman as Santana could ever really be left alone, especially in such a sweat filled, sex radiating place that the warehouse dance floor has turned into. But she's going to be honest when she says that she was not expecting to find Santana dancing quite so suggestively with a guy.
Brittany can say that she's glad Santana is at least moderately keeping her distance from this short, muscles bulging in all the wrong places, buzz cut looking creep, in spite of his astounding efforts to put his hands all over Santana's body. Brittany finds herself gripping the neck of her beer bottle just a little bit tighter, she does not appreciate this sleazy good for nothing guy one bit. Don't even bother mentioning to her that she has no idea who he is or that Santana's her own person, capable of making her own choices. All Brittany sees is red because someone else is trying to put their hands on Santana. She grits her teeth and strides forward with determination.
She reaches the guy who has his back turned to her, his hands still reaching out in attempt to place them somewhere low on Santana's hips whom, even though she too has her back to Brittany, is still very successfully dodging his efforts. Brittany watches for a second before she can't take it anymore, she takes another swig of her beer before reaching out and pointedly tapping the guy on the shoulder.
It takes a moment for him to turn around, but when he does he's wearing a sneer.
"Can I help you bitch?" He asks and Brittany's about ready to drop her chivalrous act and pound this mother doucher like the little shit he is. It's about that time that she sees Santana turn around, curious as to what might be happening around her. When she spots Brittany her eyes go wide for a second before they flash a pleading brown and Brittany knows that she's not going to win this one with a fight, even though accurately speaking she really could be kicking this guys ass.
"Listen here, ass face, I'm interjecting because you're being a douche, and I don't like douches. Beside, don't you know it's proper form to ask a lady before you put your hands on her?" Brittany says with a cocky raise of her eyebrow before she reaches out and literally shoves her drinks into the guys hands forcefully before brushing past him with a shoulder check and reaching her hand out to Santana. With a bow, and a kiss to back of her hand for additional incentive, Brittany smiles coyly up at Santana.
"May I have this dance, gorgeous?" She asks and Santana is, rightfully, a little stunned beyond the ability to deny Brittany, as though she would even want to, and thus nods her head and allows Brittany to pull her into her strong arms and glide with her onto the dance floor. Santana is not only incredibly surprised by Brittany's utter talent on the floor, but the way she moves in such a fluidly sexual manner sends shivers down Santana's spine. She doesn't think she's ever seen anyone move that damn sexy. Brittany swings Santana wide before pulling her in close. She dips her lips to Santana's ear.
"May I hold you like this princesca?" She whispers and her breath leaves a tingling chill against Santana's ear. She nods and Brittany doesn't waste a second wrapping Santana's arms around her neck and placing her own hands low on Santana's hips as they sway to the fast paced beat and she rests their foreheads together. Brittany can see, out of the corner of her eye, the guy that was originally dancing with Santana huff from his spot a few feet away and then angrily storm off in the opposite direction. It causes Brittany to chuckle a little at the whole thing. When the beat slows down and turns a rhythm much more sensual, Brittany's hands dip lower still and a gasp tumbles from Santana's lips.
Brittany moves her face to nuzzle the skin of Santana's neck and smirks into the heated flesh before her hot breath coats a damp trail up the side and her mouth is at Santana's sensitive ear once more.
"Want to turn around and move those sexy hips?" Brittany husks into Santana's ear and a low whimper escapes plump lips and lights Brittany's body on fire. Santana nods slowly and is soon turning her body around in Brittany's still very close embrace. When Santana's back is to Brittany's front she raises her arms over and behind her head, locking them around Brittany's neck and splaying her fingers through fine blonde hair. She dips low, pressing tight against Brittany's front the whole time before shifting her hips back and grinding her ass into Brittany as she rises back up to stand straight. This time, the low whimper comes from Brittany's lips and Santana smirks triumphantly.
That is until Brittany's moist lips again breath hotly against her ear and that breathless husky tone slips from her mouth.
"May I touch you?"
Santana can't fight the way a steady thud beats against her ribcage and a pulse drops between her legs. She nods feverishly and her hands grip tighter at Brittany's neck. The next second, as Santana dips down again and presses into Brittany, slender pale fingers trail up her sides and round to the front of her waist before pressing in and ghosting ever lower. Santana's eyes are squeezed shut and her breathing is erratic as Brittany's hands continue down her body and Brittany's breasts press firmly into her back. She feels seasoned hands caress the creases of her dress where her hips meet her thighs before blazing fingertips graze the tops of said thighs, just below the hem of her dress. Brittany only lingers along the thread for a moment before one hand snakes back up Santana's body, palm flat against the material of her dress so Brittany can feel ever muscle spasm and every in of skin quiver as she racks Santana's body with the touch.
Brittany's lips drop to Santana's neck and ghost across the skin. They are way past pretenses and not even registering the beat of the music any more. Brittany's hand stops firmly pressed just below Santana's heaving breasts and this time when she speaks, it's into the sweet smelling tan flesh that is right below her lips.
"Can I kiss you?"
The heaviest involuntary shiver runs through Santana's body at those words, but still she manages to slowly nod her head and then succumb to Brittany's request as a cool palm is placed on her chin and Brittany tilts Santana's head to face her own. Santana's eyes are so dark Brittany's not even sure they're a color anymore, just a shade of midnight black. Her own eyes are no doubt swirling that twilight blue she knows they turn when the pulse that's running through her body can't keep up with the one her heart is hammering out against her chest. She glances at Santana's lips, her breath hitching as she watches a pink tongue poke out and slide across the plump bottom one. She swallows and tilts her face closer to Santana's.
Someone moans, neither is sure whom, when they're lips touch, and Santana's never felt something so soft in her life. Brittany's never tasted anything so heavenly in all of her years of kissing. Ever. Their bliss is short-lived because as Brittany goes to press harder into the kiss, her right hand sliding up to cup Santana's breast, her body is suddenly being forcefully and unexpectedly jerked backwards.
"Brittany Pierce of the Fatis Manus crew. I should have known only someone as cocky as a Pierce could have tried to step into my night unannounced and playing incognito." A voice is suddenly trickling into Brittany's completely Santana centric conscience. She spins around to find the curly haired, smug grinned looking pretentious asshole Jesse St. James staring down at her forearm of the hand that he still has a hold of. Brittany curses herself for being so careless with the display of her tattoo, half the time it's the surest way to pick her out in a crowd. She glances behind her to find that sleazy guy from earlier stepping up to Santana's worried side. Brittany grits her teeth and turns back to Jesse.
"You know, when Brody was informing me that the particular Ford GT you were racing tonight looked peculiarly like the one that was recently stolen from him I didn't want to think it was true. After all, who would be so stupid as to show up at a rival crew's party in a car that they stole from one of said rival's crew members? And then to interrupt him on the dance floor when he was dancing with such a pretty lady? Tut tut tut." Jesse says with a shake of his head and Brittany doesn't waste another second ripping her hand out of his grip. She stands up straight, she's not afraid of this bastard.
A little ways into the crowd she spots her crew, and the members of Santana's crew, moving through the throng of people and collecting on the edge of the circle that has now formed around Brittany, Jesse, Santana and sleaze face. She subtly shakes her head to Mike, indicating to him not to try anything. Keep his cover if he can.
"So tell me, Brittany Pierce, what's to stop me from dragging you off somewhere and beating some information out of you? You're on my turf, and you're breaking my rules and I find that I don't particularly like you." Jesse inquires, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to look intimidating regardless of the fact that he's a good four inches shorter than Brittany. She notices that Brooke girl from earlier step up next to Jesse, a worried and fearful look on her face.
"That would be incredibly stupid considering my crew, and my brother, know where I am. If I don't return within the next hour, they'll come after you, and we aren't afraid to use a little force in the Pierce crew." Brittany informs him and then gets blindsided by a fist to her face. Turns out that sleazy guy (Brody) really is sleazy, since he punches people when they are unarmed and unaware they need to defend themselves. She briefly hears a sad gasp that comes from, she thinks, possibly Santana. Brittany falls to her knees and sees Santana take a step towards her but she locks eyes with her and pleads for her not to. Now is not the time to blow any covers.
She spits her mouth full of blood out onto the dance floor and wipes at her split cheek.
"Show her the door. She can walk home in those stilettos." Jesse then says before turning away and parting the crowd to walk through it. Brittany gets a moment before she's heaved to her feet by Edgar and some other muscle dude, they pat her down and find her car keys and then drag her out the door only to throw her onto the concrete that's littered with broken beer bottles just outside the warehouse.
"I'd start walking now before Jesse changes his mind. He's not a guy you want to be messing with." The Edgar guy calls to Brittany before he and his muscle friend turn and walk back into the warehouse, closing the large industrial door behind them. Brittany climbs to her feet and surveys her body. Nothing seems to be broken, just battered and bruised. Fuck the fact she decided to wear any kind of heel tonight.
Brittany should have known that this would happen. God damn her heart for lying on her sleeve, because it's when it is there that it always manages to get her in the most trouble. And now, even without a car to drive home in, it feels like she's seeing everything through a damn rearview mirror.
With a glance over her shoulder she starts walking in the direction of the Pierce residence, not knowing whether or not she's going to make it, and wondering what the hell she's going to find if she does.
Once again, thanks y'all!