Biker's Virgin

“After you, BeeBee,” he cracked a grin.

“Ya caught that, did ya?”

He followed me through the house to the backyard, looking around him as we walked. “So, this is where you grew up, huh?” he asked.

“Well, no, not really. This is where I lived my last two years of high school.”

“Oh yeah, you said you moved around a lot when you were a kid.”

“Yeah, with my dad being in the military.”

“A Navy man, huh? Am I gonna have to salute him and give him a 'yes, sir, no, sir,' when I meet him?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

I rolled my eyes. “He's not like that at all! And he wasn't a drill sergeant or anything like that, he worked on computers.”

“I was just joking,” he said with a wink. “I'm sure he's not intimidating at all,” he added sarcastically.

We stepped into the backyard where Dad and some of his friends were gathered around the grill drinking beer and watching the meat as it sizzled above the coals. Despite being about to turn fifty, my dad looked years younger. He ran marathons and was in very good shape. So, when he noticed that Emerson was in great shape, he seemed immediately impressed. “Well, good day there, son,” he said as I introduced Emerson to him. “That's a good firm grip you've got there. You ever thought of joining the Navy? You'd make a fine candidate for the Seals.”

“As noble a calling as that is, sir,” Emerson responded, “I think my talents lie in the field of science.”

“Well, there's all sorts of things you can do to serve God and country, son. Especially if you've got skills like that.”

“I'll keep that in mind, sir. Of course, I still have to graduate before I can think of anything like that though.”

“No need to call me sir,” Dad commented. “Rob will do.”

Emerson acknowledged with a nod of his head.

“Say, you want a beer, Emerson? We've got a cooler full of ice cold ones here.”

“Thanks, Rob, but I'm still a couple of months away from twenty-one,” he replied.

I was surprised to see him do that; I'd have thought he'd take up the offer right away.

“Aw, that's fine! Go on and have one,” my dad said, nudging Emerson playfully in the ribs. “No need to act like you've never had a brewski before!”

Emerson chuckled. “No, sir, it’s not that. As long as you're okay with it, I’ll have one.”

“Wouldn't have offered if I wasn't.”

“But only one, I still have to drive your daughter home later this evening.” Emerson walked over to the cooler and grabbed a beer. He popped the top off and clinked the bottle with my dad's. “Happy birthday, Rob,” he said, “and thanks for inviting me here today. I really appreciate it.”

“Thanks for coming, son!” he replied. “Now, Brooke here tells me you're into motorcycles.”

“That's right. We actually came here on my bike.”

“You managed to get Brooke on a motorcycle? You must be some kind of miracle worker or she really likes you,” Dad said without even attempting to act like he was joking.

I shot him a look and he quickly tried to recover.

“So, what are you riding?”

“It's a Kawasaki ZX6R.”

“Nice,” Dad replied, a sparkle of admiration gleaming in his eyes. “I'll have to go out front and have a look at her later.”

“Feel free to take it around the block, if you'd like,” Emerson offered.