…Everyone in the area knew Day's Speed Shop. It wasn't just the eye-catching purple and orange paint job on the huge roller door. It was the gossip about Day's racing cars that made the shop famous. It was the growl of the Nascar that could be heard from streets away. A primeval rumbling that stirred the residents and cast a spell of the exotic on the mundane network of streets and houses…

…The Torana filled the mirror, bright red, number plate SEX. It came closer, horn blaring. Paul Secchi. That woman of his, Lisa. Joe rammed the wagon back into fourth and swung to the outside lane to block them but the Torana came up fast on the inside. ‘Hi, Psycho Joe!’…

…Joe's foot was still planted. Pedal to the metal. Engine straining. But Paul pulled ahead. Joe leant on the steering wheel, willing the wagon forward, feeling the pick-up at last…

…she smiled a wide slow smile. Yes. She had everything now. She snipped a small square photo from the page, took the folded white cloth and the black comb from under her neckline and laid them near her altar.

She took a cloth from the side drawer of her dresser, sprinkled it with rosewater and, naked in front of her mirror, moon-clad, wiped the damp cloth slowly down each arm.

The elements of the dress flowed into her. Her presence grew…