Carly was a spoiled brat with a daddy's credit card and no respect for boundaries. She drove a cherry-red convertible, wore crop tops in winter, and had a mouth that could ruin reputations.
One day she rolled into the grimy edge of town, looking for a car wash.
She found "Iron Hose Car Spa"—a place not listed on any app.
The sign looked hand-painted. The men working there were filthy in every sense of the word—covered in grease, sweat, and muscle.
One of them leaned over her window and said with a grin:
> "You want the deluxe tunnel, princess?"
She scoffed. "Yeah. The best one."
He winked.
> "You got it. Full Service. No pulling out."
She didn't know what that meant.
She would soon.
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