**Picking up where the last one ends, I bring you the sequel to Beautiful Stranger. Redux. For now this is M-rated, may likely change later on. Other characters will play prominent roles including Prince/Doc, but the crux of this story centers mainly on Wingo and Gwen. Pls enjoy*

Chapter One

Attempt #1

He had a relatively small pad at The Shack. Well, actually it was quite large. It was a spacious studio. Once it was him and Boost who shared a spacious loft at the complex but now his buddy was married with his own little family, Wingo saw no need for such large double-floor studio. So he downgraded when Boost moved out. His quarters were not cramped by any means but it was a lot smaller than what he and Boost had. It was suitable for a single bachelor with plenty room to roam about. He, like his buddies was a clean freak and a neat freak. The place was well kept, maybe with a few items sloppily situated here and there but nothing outrageously misplaced. He knew Gwen didn't care at all about his humble abode, even if she was used to monstrous-sized rooms and penthouses. She was serious when she stated she preferred middle, even lower-income crowds to the wealthy socialite life she was reared in. Not that Wingo was exactly poor. His net worth would be considered mid-income, maybe even in the upper middle income tier, given that he jointly owned the Axle nightclub with DJ. They pulled in good money running the club. Boost and Snotty weren't doing too bad either. In fact, Ramone had made Boost his business partner Boost used to work for him as his employee, now his business had expanded to nearly three times its original size. To show his appreciation for his work, Ramone literally gave Boost half of his business, which they operated. The place was now named Ramone's Delinquent Masters, Inc., and was a premier body detail shop. One that appeared several times on several shows, and was definitely famous for its superb work. Boost was now the joint owner with his former boss, and Wingo who did body art as a hobby, sometimes helped Boost and Ramone out. He was primarily a club owner with DJ, but he still had a license in auto body work too. As for good ol Snotty, he was still happy working at the auto shop in the middle of town, and had been promoted to floor manager. He wasn't doing too bad either.

As for him, well he had changed considerably because of her. Well, not a lot, but he had changed. He was still himself but with some physical and emotional alterations. That tall-ass spoiler of his was history as of a month ago, replaced with a much simpler one-level one like Boost's. He used to be full-blown hardcore rap and no other music. He still was mainly rap like DJ and Boost. But now he was listening to "weird shit" like Fall Out Boy, blasting damn Alanis Morissette out of his booming system as much as he did Dr. Dre. Because of her. And he liked it. He dug hitting the coffee shop with a cup of latte with her, and was a well-seasoned poet. And a favorite. So popular he did gigs down in Phoenix, Southern California, Las Vegas and Atlanta. Turned out she dug spoken poetry too along with that java chip. He wasn't wearing it at the moment but now he almost always touted either a green or a black slouching beanie cap. Gwen was known to constantly wear hers. Like her, he wore glasses now, thanks to being diagnosed with eyesight issues a month ago. And he had the coolest-looking glasses. Two pairs of them, one was round but turned into pitch-black sunshades when the sun hit them.

The ones he sported now were his favorite: round keyhole ones with the clear lens that had flip-over lenses that instantly converted them into sun glasses when he shook them down. They were deep purple with a mixture of translucent pink and green when various angles of light hit. He called these ones his "hippie glasses" because they looked like something Filmore would wear. Speaking of hippies he was much more aware of the environment now...just like Filmore...and thanks to her. But he was still that same ol' cool cat Wingo with that bad boy streak, still flaunting traces of his hoodlum days. He cursed like a sailor, smoked heavily, drank, and kicked that hood slang like DJ and Boost. He knew all about "da' hood" and the streets like DJ. He was still very much a Delinquent all the way. But meeting Gwen transformed him, just like he did her. He got her addicted to rap music now, and though she didn't even drink or smoke, she was always curious about the various terminologies for street drugs since he used to deal drugs as a gangster down in Cali. She loved his hard style and his blunt ways. Wingo was so cool that when he went back to Cali to visit his family even the Crips and Bloods dug his poetic style and look. He might have been a civilian but he was still family to them.

Gwen never meant to change his diet at all but she unintentionally did. He ate much healthier now because of her. He still was no vegetarian but he cut down on alot of stuff he used to eat. And he was a huge coffee fan now. Every Saturday he hit Carbucks with her for a cup, and while she stuck to her soy cappuccinos and lattes, his favorite joe was a venti caramel frappuccino with 8 pumps of frap roast and extra caramel. Before his run-in with this Gwen chick he was no fan of coffee at all. Now he was. He still stuck to his 40-ounce Old English and beer, and gin and juice, but now added the frappuccino to that list of beloved drinks.

Wingo smiled as he glanced around his place. He used the remote to dim the lights to a darkened atmosphere. He had several candles lit and he stared at the large double-tiered mat in the center of his place. This was an expensive piece he had, custom-made as soon as he moved in here. It had to be shipped here, then reassembled. When he moved, the manufacturer would have to take it apart again, ship it wherever and then put it back together. It was a standard floor mat made of the softest rubber there was, then had two slanted ramp, one heavily padded for a lazy vehicle that didn't want to sleep normally. That was, right-side up. Many chose to crawl up a thirty-degree slant and just flop themselves over on it. Being flat on one's back was an uncomfortable position for one to be in, not to mention the trouble of trying to right oneself back on all fours. It was damn near impossible. Acrobats maybe. But a 30-degree angle was tolerable for any vehicle, and allowed the snoozer to rest comfortably "leaned back", while making it easy to just roll over on all fours again before sliding down. It also was very useful for another purpose.

At least he suspected that.

He was no engineer, but from looking at the thing one didn't have to be in that field to know it could be used for such a purpose. That part of his ramp mat was situated right below a second one that was elevated a few feet higher and had an opening where the two parts of it met. Wingo forgot exactly what this part of the contraption was for, but remembered the store lady telling him something about small children or such. So a parent could be on the bottom with the kid sleeping on top, or something to the effect. As he studied it earlier he realized it could be put to use for something else. She was not tiny but her model was probably small enough to get on it. Maybe. MINI Coopers were not micro cars at all, far from it, but they were a bit more compact than most. Now that he got a good look at it, he wasn't sure. She might be able to drive on it. Maybe. Most likely no. Not with her lack of coordination. He'd see when she got here.

She actually dug his mat assembly but never actually slept on it as she never stayed the night. She'd come over and kick it with him, hop in his shower, hang out with him some more, and then leave. Tonight would be her first sleepover with him. Even now he wasn't really planning anything, at least originally. But the more he anticipated her arrival the more self-evident his urge became. When Wingo was growing aroused, he grew quiet.

Which was why when she rang his buzzer and he opened his garage, he said nothing to her when she greeted him. A simple nod was his response when she said "Hey. " with that bright smile of hers. His look was calm and emotionless as he shifted his front half hinting at her to come in. She shook her back side to dislodge her purse from her side while ever the gentleman, he removed her small gym bag from her back. He supposed he could have met her at her spot and then escorted her here but he wasn't thinking. She didn't seem to care. "I rented Thelma & Louise," she said. "You'll like it trust me." He only partially heard her, but suspected it was yet another chick flick and he didn't mind. He was of the opinion that females tended to pick better films. Guys were mostly about mayhem and things getting blown to smithereens, which was fine by him. He liked exploding shit. Girls like exploding things in movies too but they seemed to focus more on actual story lines. They tended to prefer films that told an actual tale, as opposed to a mash of loosely-tied plot holes. Not to say there were no good men directors out there. There were plenty who made awesome chick flicks. Thanks to his sisters and exes always dragging him along to movies to watch such films when he was back in Cali, he concluded long ago that women were just better at movie-picking than men were. He was sure he wouldn't be disappointed by Gwen's selection.

"It takes a little while to get started but it's like, really good." "I'm sure it is." Wingo muttered as he watched her get situated in the corner of his family room. "Is something wrong?" she worried, noticing his stony expression.

"No, not really." he answered, but he was still watching her with that look as though, she couldn't quite put it, she was disturbing him with her presence. Did she come at a bad time? Was he pissed off at her? He didn't look mad at all. She couldn't really describe how he looked other than he looked like he was in the middle of doing something and she disrupted it by showing up so now his way of coping with it was to fall silent to his guest. Or, maybe she had done something and he found out about it? An uneasy sensation befell her as she tended to her small bag. "If this isn't a good time, um, I can um…I don't wanna' impose."

"You're not imposing at all. If that was the case I wouldn't have answered my phone or my door. I wouldn't be fucking wichu' right now wichu' standin' here if you were 'imposing'. Real talk." he answered curtly and he was looking dead at her. She didn't know Wingo well. This was how he got when he was getting in the mood. Okay then, maybe it was nothing she decided but she was still unsettled by his response. She glanced around the room. "If you're looking for the remote it's up on top, top part of the mat ramp, if you can grab it." he instructed.

She didn't know he strategically placed it there. She nodded and started to make her way up it, albeit cautiously. She had never been on a mat like this one, though she did dig it. It was a bit narrow, she could fit on it, and it had ladder-like openings in it. Only the sides were solid for the wheels to fit in. "It's sturdy, trust me. My heavy ass may collapse it because I'm solid. But it'll hold your little weight." he eased her fear. She heard him speak to her and his voice grew closer with every word. She noticed he had cruised to the floor end of the mat, then after a pause, casually flipped himself over until he was slouched back on the 30-degree part of it. she glimpsed his magnificent underside and for the first time noticed the small row of speakers. She didn't know guys could have speakers put there too. But then again boom cars tended to put speakers, woofers and the like all over. "Okay." She agreed albeit hesitantly. She still was unsure but she trusted him. Besides if she lost her balance he was right there below her. She'd end up landing on his face. That was not likely to happen given her clumsiness anyway, she'd most likely get stuck trying to get up on the thing, and his prediction proved right.

Why on Earth she didn't just start at the bottom and then cruise up like a normal car would was beyond him. Instead, she inexplicably chose to try to climb onto it midway. He struggled to keep a straight face as he watched her unwieldy attempt to stick each tire, one-by-one, into the sides to the ramp, like she was trying to climb over him. All the while she was doing this he got a gorgeous view of her pristine undercarriage. Painted white like the rest of her which was a first as most chose never to do this.

"Sorry." she grinned bashfully when she almost lost her grip. Her back axle….along with her whole back tire…had now become wedged in one of the openings, splaying her bottom half outwards. Now she had one tire dangling over the edge and the other stuck right above his front. Just like he wanted.

x

Some music emanated from him at a moderate volume. "Salvatore" by Lana Del Rey began to play. Gwen reminded him a lot of this newfound artist he grew to love. Wingo loved Lana Del Rey now because of her. Gwen was a plain simpleton indeed, but she still had a nostalgic 1940s-to-60s feel to her. Even many of the accessories she wore had that period piece vibe to them. Wingo dug that about her. Lana Del Rey was one of her favorite singers and she unintentionally got Wingo hooked to her. So for him, playing a Lana Del Rey tune while preparing to get it on was the ideal setting. The EQ was just perfect and was not over done, and she suddenly felt him nuzzling her underside with his face. A mix of uncertainty and anticipation waltzed across her cute face. She suddenly jolted so violently that she almost lost her grip and fell off, and had she done so she would have been hanging almost upside down due to her stuck back limb. Her small oil cap had been dislodged and it dawned on her that he was trying to pull off the top to her oil pan with his teeth. It was awfully secure, to the point where he grew impatient in his struggle with it.

"Goddamn girl, why is your shit on here so tight?" he mumbled more to himself than her, and he was smiling when he did it. But what he said next was directed towards her where she could hear him. "I'm not even playin yo'. Im'a rip this motherfucker off you in a minute - .."

His voice turned feral before the abrupt halt in his tone, heralding he had finally succeeded in peeling it off with his teeth. Albeit gingerly. She then felt a wet invasion. An incursion into her oil pan. She froze in her position, mouth wide open, eyes wide and wild. So this was what this felt like. She knew all about it, just never had it done. The two guys she banged before basically just jumped on her and did their thing and that was it. She serviced them but never got an exchange, a fact that still disgusted Wingo when he overheard her friends discussing it. It was so unfair to her he figured. So his plan tonight was to show her how real men handled their girls. He felt her struggling to break her jammed tire free and stopped her. "Fuck yo' back tire man. Leave it there and relax baby. C'mon. I don't bite. That is...unless you want me to. Don't say shit. Just take this all in. Holler if you have to. I want you to feel good. We're gonna take it slow n' easy." he rumbled in his trademark tooth-clenching growl.

He inhaled with a hiss. "Shit girl...you taste as good as you smell. Look at this pretty lil' motherfucker. Cain't believe nobody ever licked out your snatch man; sweet as this shit looks? Ohhhhh yeahhhhhhh..."

Gwen was shaking, hard. Pitiful moans rose from her when she wasn't panting. She almost appeared to be splayed out on his face, her back sitting on it. She was undergoing an oral copulation at the moment and was turning into a wreck because of it. She let out a squeaking cry, coyly bucking into his face. She was hesitant to move much as she wasn't sure how to grind with his mouth. When she felt him grasp her sides with his tires to guide her into a rhythm she began to fall into it. Her front collapsed on top of him as her mouth widened. "Oh..." she let out quietly as one of her back tires began shaking uncontrollably. She hissed her approval as her eyes rolled back. An inarticulate sound tore from her throat akin to one one would make in pain or despair, but it was neither despair nor pain she felt. It was wondrous. Ecstasy caused her sudden groan.

"Oo-ooooo….(*gasp*) Mr. Wingo…!" she mewled. "*GASP*. Oh yes, yes, yes...ssssss Oh my GOD!*" She almost yelled that time because he clearly hit the right spot as she tensed around his pink tongue that plummeted deep inside. A huge smile sketched on her face. He responded with a throaty growl complete with a wry chuckle.

Gosh, this felt good as heck.

He was readying to pick up the pace a bit.

Then the garage bell rang.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" The Silvia growled irately. He noticed that Gwen's lower half was now pressing hard into him in an effort to keep him from not halting his activity. He smiled, but he had to get the door. Well, actually, he didn't "have" to. He debated to ignore it and finish her off but could hear arguing on the other side. He looked up at her. She was looking down at him, swallowing. "Wait here." he whispered to her, and then planted a quick, pecking kiss - right on her pan opening - causing her to jolt when he did. He chuckled at the reflexive reaction it caused. He righted himself and drove to the front of his garage, activating it, then he halted, eyes wider.

It was his neighbors Carlos and Diane, arguing as usual. They became great Shack pals to Wingo, but when they got drunk they argued like crazy.