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When we were about thirty minutes out, I told him, “Panda and Mira are already where we’re going, to make sure no one spills the beans about the fact we’re on the way. They needed our driver’s licenses in time to square all the insurance stuff away.”

He didn’t ask a million questions because he’s been well trained, and I smiled to myself, enjoying upping the anticipation a little more before I shared my big surprise.

“We’ll both have our own experience first, alone, and then we’ll have some time together. Since you’re comfortable with Mac and Ranger, they’ll be with you while Panda and Mira are with me.” I glanced at him and looked back to the road. “You are to follow their orders no matter what. If they say duck, you duck. If they pick you up and start running, you hold on and make it as easy as possible for them to get you to safety. I don’t foresee any problems because it’s a closed course with a lot of security to start with, plus we’re bringing our own, but if I find out you gave them problems I’ll be most displeased.”

“I understand, Master.”

“Do you know what Road Atlanta is?”

“I know what the Atlanta Motor Speedway is, Master.”

“Completely different place, and not especially close to Atlanta, actually. There’s a racing school that teaches at the track, so you’ll get a private lesson in defensive driving as well as racing basics. You’ll be in one of their cars, and the price of the class covers any damage to the car. If you follow their instructions you won’t wreck, so that isn’t a license to crash, but so long as no one’s hurt, it won’t be some tragic event.”

Okay, enough about that. Back to the fun stuff. “While you’re taking the first part of the class, I’ll be able to race the McLaren around the track at high speed — though I’ll have an instructor with me the first fifteen minutes to help me brush up on what I’ve learned in the past before I go solo and hopefully full out.” I shrugged. “Not completely solo. Either Panda or Mira will be in the McLaren’s passenger seat once the instructor no longer is. Your car will have a backseat, so you’ll have either Mac or Ranger with you even when the instructor is with you.”

“Thank you, Master.” He rubbed his leg with the palm of his hand. “If you’d done this before you made me drive, or before we had so much fun on the coasters yesterday, I think I’d have been horrified, but I’m actually excited about learning to drive a car fast while still being safe.”

* * * *

Will

The McLaren W1 is advertised with a top speed of two hundred and forty miles per hour, but I’d probably have to rent the Atlanta Motor Speedway to get it that high, and honestly, the one hundred and fifty-three miles per hour I reached is about as fast as I think I want to go. The top Road Atlanta speed is supposed to be one hundred and sixty, so I figure I got pretty close to the professionals.

Of course, I was on the track all by myself, and not with a whole pack of cars. That would be a totally different scenario.

They worked with Davy on another track for a couple of hours, and I pulled into the pits when they let me know it was time for him to move to the main track. I had an open phone line while I drove, and they had the same thing between Davy’s instructor and the main control people, so I parked the car and made my way to the tower, where I could listen in. Also, I could see the various cameras around the track, and see the on-board camera’s feed.

Ranger sat with me, while Mac and Panda were situated at two points on the track, and Mira was in the tiny backseat of the BMW my boy was driving. Later, he’d drive a Porsche and Mira would be down in the pits, since there wouldn’t be a backseat.

And then eventually, he’d drive the McLaren, though I didn’t think he’d make it much above a hundred miles per hour, since he was only doing around ninety on the straightaways now.

I took lots of pictures from the tower — both of what I could see by looking out the glass, and of the various monitors. I did a little video on the impressive parts of the track, and made a mental note to get some pics and videos of me in and around the McLaren so the Road Atlanta stuff showed. We’d be doing a music video featuring the car in a few weeks, and that meant I could write the car’s rental off on my taxes. Some pics from here would let me write the track rental off as well, though I’d have to get my intellectual property attorney to read the fine print of the contract to make sure I didn’t need some extra licensing to use their brand.

Davy and I weren’t in disguise this afternoon since everyone here knew who we are, and everyone present had signed an NDA.

I heard the instructor gently encouraging my boy to get into the gas a little more, talking him through steering and breaking before the curves and then hitting the gas to pull out of them, and I approved. My instructor had been more about cautioning me to slow down more before the curves, but once he realized I could handle the high speeds, he’d chilled. I’d gradually increased speeds until I felt I was at my limit, and then he’d helped me figure out where I could go faster. When I finished, they told me my lap speeds were on par with the professionals, but I reminded them I was all alone on the track. No way would I want to be out in a pack of cars doing those speeds.

Davy didn’t freak when they moved him to the Porsche, but when they told him it was time for the McLaren, he said, “Oh, no. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

I hadn’t spoken yet because I didn’t want him to know I was listening in, but it seemed the right time to do so. “It’s fine, Davy. Start out a little slower than what you made it to in the Porsche and work your way up as you gain confidence. When you finish, I’ll make a few more laps, and then we can go somewhere nice to eat. Have fun with it, Davy. It’s why we’re here.”

He drove the McLaren for nearly an hour, and then I had forty minutes before our time was up, and I used every second of it. Also, I insisted no one rode with me during those forty minutes. If I crashed, I’d only hurt myself and not someone else. Panda tried to insist he or Mira ride with me, but I put my foot down. The track was closed and there was tons of security. I’d be fine.

And I was.

Chapter 15

Davy

Master told me during our first dinner together that he’s a big fan of being inside his slaves all the time, and he’d warned me I’d be plugged a whole lot of the time.

This means he went to a nice big family bathroom with me before we left the track, and he had me bend over so he could put a fat plug in me.

He also put his hair in a bun and changed shirts while I put my freckle and hair gel back on.

We had a really nice dinner in an old antebellum mansion, and I guess those are rare in Atlanta because the Yanks burned so many of them, but this one was far enough away from Atlanta, it got missed. Or that’s what the history of the place on the back of the menu said. I hadn’t known antebellum meant it was from before the Civil War. I was learning all kinds of things with my new Master.

When we left the restaurant, Master went to the passenger side to get in, and I forced my feet to walk to the driver’s side. I pushed the button to move everything around the seat to my settings, and then leaned my head back and closed my eyes.