VINCE
June 8th, 2014
I had told myself over the course of the last year that a woman would have to prove herself to me to get me to even give her a moment’s notice, but in the end, that wasn’t necessarily the truth. A stupid mistake on my part had landed me in an upper middle class neighborhood, and within an hour, I had a gorgeous half-drunk brunette on the back of my bike, and was riding down a county road on my way to nowhere.
As interesting as she was, and as different as she seemed to be, she was still a woman, and without a doubt would have all of the characteristics of one - and a woman wasn’t something I needed in my life no matter how cute she was, how well she filled out her filthy sweats, or how cool her car was.
In the end, she was a woman, and women were evil.
For a short ride through the county at midnight, however, having her on the back of my bike was enjoyable. It reminded me of better times, the feeling of being complete, and not necessarily living with much desire to do anything but exist.
The city quickly turned into a few randomly placed rural housing developments, and eventually the developments diminished into a few sparse farm houses. After a matter of minutes, we were ten miles from the city and riding into the path my headlight cut into the otherwise completely dark road ahead.
As I became almost hypnotized by the bouncing beam of light, her hands lightly gripping my waist reminded me of Natalie. The thought was equal parts comforting and sickening at first, and after a few minutes, comforting was the clear winner. The fast approaching rural stop sign reminded me not only had we reached the highway, but that I needed to maintain my focus on the road, and not my passenger’s hand placement.
I stopped at the intersection, pulled out along the side of the highway, and rolled to a stop on the paved shoulder of the road.
“Is something wrong?” she asked as I kicked the heel of my boot against the kickstand.
I flipped the ignition switch off and reached down and turned the key, killing the lights.
“Nope, just stopping for a bit,” I responded.
We both stepped off the bike at the same time, and stood staring at each other illuminated only by what little moonlight escaped through the low passing clouds. I broke her gaze, glanced toward the ditch, and nodded my head in the direction of the large concrete storm water drain passing underneath the intersecting road.
“Grab a seat,” I said as I tossed my head toward the large piece of exposed concrete.
Being subtle had never been one of my strengths, and I wasn’t going to try and change things now. In being honest with myself, riding with her on the back of my bike rekindled feelings I was sure had long since passed. Natalie hadn’t been on the back of my bike for a year before we divorced, and she’d been gone for roughly a year.
The last two years I had ridden alone, and although I had many requests to take women on rides, I never fulfilled them. Now that I had decided to, for whatever reason, I wasn’t sure I liked the result.
“I got to be honest with you,” I said as I sat down on the edge of the concrete.
“Okay,” she responded as she crossed her arms and gazed down at me.
“Sit,” I said as I patted the concrete beside me.
“I’ll stand,” she responded.
“I’m thirty-three years old. Married for fifteen years, and divorced a year ago. I’m a different kind of guy than you’d probably ever meet, and a damned far cry from most bikers you’d ever run across.” I paused and patted the concrete again.
She stood, staring down at me, and shook her head lightly. Standing there in the moonlight, still dressed in her sweats and flip-flops, no one could dispute her beauty. As I gazed up at her and fully realized just how beautiful she was, I reminded myself that external beauty acted as a distraction to what was on the inside.
“I was faithful. For fifteen years. I didn’t spend time at strip clubs with the fellas, or any more time at the bars than I had to. When I did, I always played it cool, and never let myself do anything stupid, short of fights and stuff. You know, never messed around. Then, I found out she was in a relationship with a guy. Hell, I guess I should have known, considering the way she treated me…” I hesitated and started to stand up.
She pointed to the concrete. “Sit.”
She walked to my side, sat down, and turned to face me. “Go ahead.”
“Well, fuck. I don’t know why I’m even telling you this. It’s just. Hell, I don’t know, having you on the back of my bike made me think of her or something. I mean, I’m done with her, but you grabbing my waist in your hands reminded me of her. I either liked it a lot or I hated it, I just can’t decide which it was,” I said.
She brushed her ponytail over her shoulder and twisted her mouth to the side. “Did you actually think of her, or did having my hands there make you feel something you haven’t felt in a while?”
I considered what she said, turned toward her, and wrinkled my nose. “You a fucking psychologist or something?”
She shook her head and grinned. “Just read a lot.”
“Yeah, me too,” I said as I gazed down at my boots.
“Really?” she asked.
Still focused on my boots, I nodded my head. “Like I said, you’ll never meet another like me. I sit at home every night and read. Probably five books a week. Rarely sleep. I’m either at the clubhouse, home reading, or somewhere in between.”
“A soft-hearted biker who loves to read,” she said.
“A soft-hearted biker with a short fuse and quick fists,” I said as I kicked the toe of my boot against the concrete.
“I noticed that,” she responded.
“Been an outlaw all my life. Figured joining the MC was my best bet at finding my true calling, and it seems I was right. They put my Pop in prison when I was a kid on a conspiracy to commit murder charge, and he died of pneumonia after a few years. When I turned eighteen I got his old bike running, ten years later I joined the MC, and now I finally feel at home. Don’t care much for the government, can’t stand cops, and most of the time I think the country would be better off if Axton Bishop was President,” I said.
“I’m sorry about your father. That’s crazy. My dad did five years for a burglary he didn’t commit. He was at home asleep at the time, but because of an old assault charge, he was in the system. Someone picked him out of a lineup. I’ll never forgive them for what they did to him. He was gone the entire time I was in high school. Motherfuckers,” she said as she tossed a rock into the ditch.
“You said he passed,” I said as I shifted my eyes toward her. “Can I ask?”
“Colon cancer,” she said with a nod.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Yeah, me too. And who is Axton Bishop?” she asked.
“Huh? Oh. He’s the president of the MC,” I said with a laugh.
“I’ll write him in next November,” she said.
“You won’t be the only one,” I said.
“How about when we leave, I’ll wrap my hands around your chest or maybe your neck? Maybe that’ll make you feel more comfortable,” she said.
“Wrap my hands around your fucking neck if you ain’t careful,” I said.
“Don’t make promises you aren’t willing to keep,” she said as she stood up.
Just saying it caused my cock to begin to twitch. Realizing it had done so made me begin to worry about it, and my worrying kept the thought in the forefront of my mind. Within a few seconds, I had a full-blown hard on, and although I wasn’t necessarily embarrassed, I wasn’t proud either.
But, as I had said many times in the past, subtlety wasn’t a strength I possessed.
“You ready?” I asked as I stood.
She turned to face me, and her eyes quickly fell to my crotch. After a short pause, they worked their way up to meet mine.
I grinned and nodded my head toward the bike.
“Guess so,” she said.
As I walked toward the bike, she continued.
“So what’d we decide? You going to wrap those hands around my neck?” she nonchalantly asked.
As I threw my leg over the seat of the bike and acted as if I didn’t hear her, I knew if I ever chose to see her again, I’d damned sure have my hands full.
And I wasn’t totally convinced that would be a bad thing.
Not totally.