Biker's Virgin

I nearly tripped and fell as I navigated the deck steps, and then almost fell again, this time into the blueberry bushes that separated our two yards. When I finally untangled myself, I stood there for a moment, trying to get my bearings. I took a deep breath and then continued my journey to his garage. He was coming out right as I stepped onto the driveway.

“Oh, hey,” he said. “I thought I heard something out here.”

“That would be me,” I said. “Falling into the blueberry bushes.”

He had an amused look on his face. “Party for one over there tonight?” he asked.

“It would’ve been a party for two if you had come over,” I said. “I would’ve liked that very much.”

“I would have, too. My invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail.”

I went right over to him and put my hand on his chest, feeling his smooth muscles underneath his T-shirt. “It’s an open invitation for you,” I said. “Or standing invitation. Or whatever the correct term is. You can come over any time that you want.”

“Why, thank you,” he said. I felt his arm encircle my waist, and I tilted my head back a little to look at him. I started to laugh. “Do I have something stuck on my face?” he asked.

“No,” I said, between fits of giggles. “I was just thinking that we probably looked like the cover of one of those romance novels you can buy at the grocery store. You know, the damsel pressing herself up against the big strong man, the wind blowing their hair.” My hair was, in fact, getting blown back from the fan he had running on his work bench. “This is probably a very photogenic moment right now.”

“You’re no damsel in distress, though,” he said. “Well, maybe at this moment you are. You seem a little...intoxicated.”

“Only a little,” I protested. “I was just enjoying some libations because it’s was so hot today. And still is. Maybe I should take my clothes off.”

“I could help you with that, you know.”

“No, you’re going to sit over there.”

I nudged him toward a weight bench that looked as though it hadn’t been used in quite some time.

“All right,” he said agreeably. He sat down.

“Is your phone out here?” I asked.

“No, it’s inside.”

I looked over at his work bench. “Does that stereo work?”

“Yeah. There’s actually good, old-fashioned CDs in there.”

“Which ones?”

“I don’t know. Are you looking for anything specific?”

“Um...something with a good beat.”

“Well, let’s see what’s in there.”

He got up and turned the stereo and the receiver on, and the first CD that started to play seemed to be an 80’s hit mix. He skipped over Billy Idol and the Cars, until “Obsession” came on and I told him to stop.

“Okay, go sit back down,” I said.

I didn’t know why I was doing this, other than I wanted to, and I thought that it might make him laugh. I never went out to clubs or anything, but I was pretty good at moving with a beat, and as the music played, I started to gyrate my hips and run my hands up and down my sides. I slowly worked the hem of my shirt up and then I pulled it off, lobbing it over my head where it sailed through the air and landed unceremoniously on a red wagon full of pool noodles.

Cole laughed, then clapped, biting down on his lip, looking at me appreciatively.

I stayed in beat with the song, pushing my shorts down, stepping out of them. I danced around in my underwear, going over to Cole, straddling him, letting my face get close to his but never quite touching.

When the song ended, he ran his hands down my flanks and kissed me.

“You know,” he said, “I think this is the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me.”