I’ll never forget the first time I stepped into Ferro Custom Racing. It was a hell of a way to begin a new job. Roxanna Ferro stood encircled by a handful of her mechanics whilst unzipping her coveralls as they leered at her and whooped amongst themselves. The white, midriff-baring tank top she wore that day would become a familiar sight. She stopped the zipper at the waist and tied the coverall sleeves into a knot just below her navel. Making one brief pause to roll her sinewy shoulders, she leaped up and grabbed the strut of an empty hydraulic lift.
“Kiss my ass, you fucking pussies,” she said over her shoulder. “Just watch me!”
She proceeded to use the strut as a chin-up bar in full view of her staff. I was impressed by the muscles on her sleek but powerful upper body, which reminded me of Sarah Connor in Terminator 2. With each rep she grunted like an animal. The improvised belt cinched around her slim waist accentuated her curvy hips and round, taut ass.
“Eight, *Ng!* Nine, *Ng!* TEN!” she crowed, dropping down and cocking her head at one of her mechanics.