Biker's Virgin

"Not really. Why? You want to go somewhere else?"

She did. It was this place a lot of the guys I used to play with used to come – buffet, cheap food, as much as you wanted, a great deal for packs of hungry football players, especially when we were bulking. I had taken her before, a few times because after the first time she hadn't been mad about sharing a dining room with the kind of people who you usually found at an all you can eat buffet. Part of the territory when you're a broke college student, but we weren't slumming all the time.

As soon as we walked in, she seemed overdressed. It was a huge, badly-lit dining area with the food lining one wall. Periodically, a person in a dirty apron would come through a pair of swinging doors and refresh the food that was running out. It made me think of the cafeteria on campus, but with more screaming children and more overweight people who had to use those buggies in the supermarket.

Ron was a creature of habit. On her plate when we finally sat down were potato skins and the awful, thick, soggy crust pizza they served that she loved for some reason. Her usual. It felt good that I knew that about her, especially for those times that she felt distant and I felt like I was fighting a losing battle.

"I can't believe you still eat that shit," I quipped.

"I like my pizza with girth," she said, taking a bite out of a slice. It was bread at that point. Bread with cheese and pepperoni on it. This was part of the reason why we never got pizza together, she hated thin crust and pineapple, while I couldn't stand the thick crust. She took another bite happily.

"I can't afford to eat like this every day, let me enjoy it while I can," she said.

"If it makes you this happy, why not?"

"Long as I'm happy weighing fifty more pounds than I do now. You boys have it so good."

"Just come to the gym with me," I suggested.

"Not a chance in hell. Not again," she laughed. She worked out, she was small, but she liked to take care of herself. She did it mainly from home; those easy at-home videos you can get online. Or at least that was what she had preferred doing before. Once I had managed to convince her to come to the gym with me... Let's just say that was the last time she ever did.

"You still do those little work out videos?"

"Are you saying I need to? Are you calling me fat?" she teased.

"You're trying to get me in trouble. You know I didn't say that."

"Choose your next words wisely," she said, peeling a pepperoni slice off the pizza and eating it on its own.

"I think you look great. Just ease up on the bread. It makes you bloat." She looked shocked for a second before she noticed my smirk.

"Just for that I'm getting another slice," she said.

"Just one. I still want to be able to carry you."

"If that gets hard for you, I think you should be the one who has to do something about it," she said, smiling at me. I laughed.

"They didn't feed us enough in Afghanistan to keep my weight up."

"You can still play though, can't you?" she asked. I said that I could, and then we got into MREs. She had heard about what they were but it was a different story actually eating them and hearing about what they might be like from a person who might or might not know.

At first, I was a little cautious talking about my deployment, but she was interested in finding out. It had been the thing that had sort of spurred the breakup. I had actually done it, but if I had never had to go, who knew where our relationship would be by now. I wanted to be able to talk about it with her. In some fucked up way, it was part of our history, even though we were apart the entire time. She never ended up getting that second slice.

It was around ten-thirty when I parked in front of her building and stopped the car.

"I had fun tonight," she said. She was looking at me. Her seatbelt was off and her body was turned in the seat, knees up against the center console.

"I did, too."

"Thank you," she said flirtatiously. It was pretty warm outside, but that had nothing to do with the warmth spreading through my chest. The whole car felt like it was heating up. I touched her knee, brushing my thumb against her unblemished skin.

"Anytime," I said. She held my hand in both of hers, turning it palm up. I watched her for a few seconds, letting my hand warm between the two of hers. The movement made the skirt of her dress fall down her thigh a little. She looked up and our eyes met. We hadn't had anything to drink that night, but her cheeks were flushed and her lips parted.

"Come here," I said to her. She let go of my hand and held the back of my seat, climbing into my lap. Our lips met, hard, and I pushed my tongue into her mouth. There wasn't much foot traffic this time of night, but anyone who was curious could look through the window and probably call the cops on us for indecent exposure.

She moaned softly as our tongues collided. I ran my hands up her thighs, squeezing her ass cheeks in my palms. I wasn't going to try to fuck her in the car – we were both way too old for that – but the night had been on a steady upswing since we had gotten to the buffet. You knew a date was good when you got to a girl’s house to drop her off and she didn't want to leave. We stopped before we started fogging up the windows.

"Let me walk you up," I said, opening the door and letting her climb out first. I followed, taking her hand. Our fingers laced together like they knew that that was what they were supposed to do. I always used to hold her right hand so she was on my left; that meant I wouldn't have to let go if I needed to use it. She let go, though, because she needed hers to unlock her apartment. I walked in after her. I could pretend that I didn't want to finish what we started in the car, but I wasn't going to lie.