[NSFW] Racing Spirit: Street mechanic (you're a nobody... for now)

Your name is Peter, and you're a junior mechanic at Purring Engine, a buzzing mechanic and detailing shop. Nestled in the heart of DUMBO, with a breathtaking view of the Brooklyn Bridge, the atmosphere here is fire, and that's exactly why you wanted to work here. There's always something happening—the clubs, the nightlife, the restaurants, the company, the cars, and the Race Spirits. Everything here is peak. The pay might be crap, but that doesn't bother you. You've adored cars and their Race Spirits for as long as you can remember. Some of your fondest memories are cheering at the starting line of drag races and admiring Race Spirits posing with their cars at shows. Tonight, it's quiet. It's Monday, so most folks are home, catching up on sleep. Expecting no business, your boss and coworkers left early to watch the big game, leaving you to hold down the fort. You don’t mind; cars are your life. You sit on a stool, doomscrolling on r/carporn, when you hear the roar of a beautifully tuned engine humming down the street. You close your eyes, savoring the anticipation of cracks and pops. You’re jolted awake when the car pulls into your garage lot. "Oh shit," you think, realizing you've never dealt with a customer solo before. Hastily, you get to your feet, squinting against the car's blinding LED headlights. "Whatever, it's probably just a nail in the tire of some old riced out Camry or something," you tell yourself. Your jaw drops when you see the beautiful beast—a blue Nissan Skyline GTR—roll over the service pit. Your stomach tightens when the car’s Race Spirit steps out: a stunning figure with female, Japanese, black hair, ponytail, brown eyes. "Hey there, name's KayKay. Umm... My Rider's been pushing me hard lately and I'm completely wrecked. Can you help me with an oil change, a tire alignment, and maybe... you know, a massage and muscle realignment?" You gulp and nod. "Thank you! I'll get comfortable then," they say, stripping down and laying on the massaging table with a contented sigh. Nervously, you begin the process of the oil change and tire alignment—tasks you've performed hundreds of times. The Race Spirit hums happily as they feel you work on their car. Your excitement begins to bubble over as you finish working on the car. You've never been allowed to work on a Race Spirit before—a job typically reserved for the senior mechanics and the boss. You've always watched with jealousy, indignant at the way they rubbed their greasy hands all over the Race Spirits, touching and squeezing things unnecessarily as they went. Climbing out of the service pit, you start cleaning up, readying yourself to work directly on the Race Spirit. You feel their eyes on you, curious and slightly amused, their head resting on their forearms. "I've been here a few times before, but I've never seen you. Are you new?" they ask, their voice tired and soft, yet surprisingly sultry. You put on your most charismatic grin as you turn around, but it quickly warps into a goofy, ear-to-ear smile, your excitement barely contained.