ERIK. The mention of me being in a relationship, just six weeks ago, would have made me laugh out loud. Today, I was actually eager to see what may happen between me and Kelli. The thought of it truly working was exciting to me. As we pulled out of the airport and began to accelerate up the road, I smiled.

Not having children was probably the single most important thing to me regarding a relationship. Children bring a certain responsibility that I wasn’t prepared to attempt to manage. Over the years, this one thing subconsciously kept me out of several relationships that I may have entertained being in. Kelli not wanting children was a tremendous relief. Even though she was adamant in her declaration of hatred toward children, I wondered about her sincerity.

We would spend some more time discussing children in the future; if I was certain that she didn’t want children, being in and maintaining a relationship with her just may be something that I could do. The thought of being in a relationship with her was comforting. Traveling, vacations, going to different countries, different states, and sharing all of that with someone that I enjoyed spending time with – the thought of doing that with a woman was appealing.

I had decided when I was young – maybe as young as sixteen, that I did not want children. That feeling never faded. I felt, being an only child and being the son of parents that were only children, that bringing a child into this earth would be wrong. If I were to die, and at some point in time I certainly would, that would leave a child in this world no different than me – without any form of elder to lean on. No family. Alone.

Having Kelli on the back of the motorcycle was another comfort that I would not have guessed I would enjoy. In the past, the thought of having a woman on the back of my motorcycle was repulsive. Having a woman on my motorcycle was something that I looked at as being intimate. I differed from a lot of men in that respect. Most men that I rode with would give any woman that asked a ride on their motorcycle. I purposely rode a motorcycle without a permanent back seat. Unless I added the seat on the motorcycle before I left the house, there was not an option for a person to ride on it.

Not having the seat saved people’s feelings and saved me a lot of grief. I could count on one hand the amount of women that had ridden on the back of my motorcycle in my lifetime. It would require a tremendous amount of time, calculator, pen and paper to count the amount of women that could have ridden on it.

Kelli riding behind me felt natural. She was petite and did not weigh very much, so she wasn’t even noticeable when maneuvering the motorcycle. Her arms wrapped around my waist provided a reassurance that she was there. Not just on the motorcycle but as a part of or an extension of me.

Riding a motorcycle had become a part of me at an early age. It was not something that I did because I enjoyed doing so; it was a part of who I was. For me, it was a type of therapy. I could have the worst possible day, take a thirty minute motorcycle ride and rid myself of all of the thoughts associated with the day. Being on a motorcycle separated me from all of the realities of life; money, bills, requirements, people, rules, and regulations did not exist when I rode. To describe the feeling of riding, to me, would be the same as a bird describing flight. A mode of transportation and a certain feeling of freedom combined.

The small airport where we had eaten lunch was in a rural area between two cities. A series of paved county roads and a highway tied the airport to the major city. I had opted to use the county two-lane roads as our route to the airport. On the way to the airport, I had seen a large home for sale directly off of the paved road. There were several fenced acres of grass, a long driveway, and what appeared to be a very nice two story home marked by a realtor’s sign. As soon as I noticed the sign in the distance, I began to slow the motorcycle down.

I decelerated until we reached the driveway to the home and turned into the drive. As we slowly rode up the driveway toward the house, Kelli spoke into my right ear. The exhaust noise of the motorcycle typically made conversations impossible while riding, but at this slow speed, there was virtually no wind and no noise from the exhaust.

“What are we doing? Do you know this guy?” she asked.

“No, we’re just looking,” I responded.

She sat back in the seat and relaxed. As I approached the home I revved the throttle to create as much of a disturbance as possible. The driveway circled around the front of the home and tied back into the entrance. I pulled directly in front of the front porch of the home and killed the engine on the bike. I placed the kickstand down and secured the bike on the asphalt driveway.

“Go ahead and get off, Kelli. Be careful of the exhaust,” I said, pointing to the exhaust pipe beside Kelli’s leg.

“Okay,” she said as she got off the motorcycle.

Standing beside the motorcycle, she admired the home.

“This place is huge. What are we doing?”

“I saw that it was for sale, so I was just pulling in here to take a look,” I responded as I got off of the motorcycle.

I began walking to the front door of the home, and Kelli followed. Standing on the porch and looking into the window of the home, it looked vacant. All of the lights were off, and there were a few local newspapers on the porch. I knocked on the door and rang the doorbell.

“So, do you want to buy this place?” Kelli asked as we stood on the porch.

“Not necessarily. I was just seeing if anyone was home,” I responded as I lifted the welcome mat and looked under it for a key.

“What are you looking for?” Kelli asked as I peeked under the mat.

“A key,” I responded.

“Oh my God, why?” she asked, with both her eyebrows raised in wonder.

“Because I am going to take you inside and fuck you senseless, and if I can’t find a key I will have to break a window. To tell you the truth, I would rather not break a window, so I am looking for a key,” I responded as I ran my hand along the structure of the awning of the porch.

“Holy crap, are you serious?”

“Totally,” I said, still feeling for a key along the wooden structure.

“And you don’t know these people? This isn’t a joke? You are just going to take me inside and fuck me? In some random house?” Kelli asked as she looked through the window into what appeared to be the living room.

“That is correct. I have no idea who lives here. All of the grass appeared to be recently cut, but there weren’t any garage doors open when we rode by earlier. It’s Saturday, and most people with this much grass to cut would be up cutting it this morning. The fact that it’s already cut means that someone did it in the last few days. More than likely they’ve hired someone to take care of it, and they’ve already moved elsewhere. The newspapers you’re stepping on mean they haven’t been on this porch for at least a few days. Now, it is Saturday, so the realtor could arrive any minute with a client…here we go,” I said as I felt a key along the structure.

I pulled the key down and looked at it. Schlage was imprinted on the key. Clearly this was a key to the front door. I walked to the door, inserted the key, and turned the handle. The door opened. I placed the key in my pocket and walked inside the door.

“Get in here, Kelli. We’re going to have to make this quick, we might not have much time.”