Dying of curiosity now, I let Mark lead me across the yard. What are we going to be doing? Not milking cows, I hope.

But I don’t smell any manure or see any other signs of a working farm, which makes my curiosity even more intense.

What the heck is this place?

Freddy’s barn, clad with the usual barn-board framing, is silvery with age and massive, far bigger than the one on my parents’ property.

The flame-haired man takes hold of the handle on one of the wide barn doors and, with a grunt, pulls it all the way open. The door creaks and groans as it slides along the track, coming to a stop with a solid thunk.

Mark and I follow Freddy inside, through a low-ceilinged, dimly-lit area that holds a long row of unused animal stalls on either side. I recognize that the low ceiling is actually the floor of the hayloft above. In this area, I can now smell the ghosts of horses and cows from the past. It’s just the merest whiff of manure, faint and aged but still carrying enough punch to allow no doubt that this was once a working farm.

We emerge, squinting, from the stall corridor into a much larger, open area at the back. It’s very bright back here, full of the golden light of the late-day sun, streaming in through two wide sliding doors which are standing open to the outside.

And there, surrounded by shimmering motes of hay-dust, sit two beat-up looking dune buggies with cartoonishly huge tires.

* * *

I gasp and clasp my hands to my chest. Mark and Freddy are both looking at me, smiling expectantly.

Glancing from one to the other, then back at the dune buggies, I can’t keep the smile off own my face. “Oh, wow! I…Freddy…did Mark tell you that we used to have these when we were kids?”

“He might have mentioned something, yeah.” The two men look at each other, grins growing wider, and then they look back at me.

“C’mere,” Mark says. “Check this out.”

Taking my hand again, he leads me through the open back doors into the dazzling golden sun. Shading my eyes with my hand reveals that the barn sits at the crest of a hill. The land behind the structure dips into a wide valley that leads away from the barn, as far as the eye can see.

It’s a lovely vista of rolling farmland and pasture that can’t be properly seen unless you’re standing on this side of the barn.

And…directly ahead, tucked into the valley, is a broad, race track made of dirt, the kind in use at motocross and other dirt-racing events.

I can hardly believe my eyes! It looks like a really nice track, properly groomed and well-constructed with plenty of thought and consideration.

There are straight-aways and steep hills for doing air-grabbing stunts. There are hairpin turns and zig-zags and even an oval area that can be closed off to use for laps.

Big tires from tractors and bales of hay line every inch of the track for crash padding.

There’s even a little set of bleachers set back from the track at the far end. At the near end, there’s a marshal’s platform with a couple of seats and a holder from which various-colored racing flags protrude.

“Holy Mother of Motorcross!” I shout, making both men guffaw. “This is fantastic!”

“Not bad, huh?” Freddy says.

“Not bad? This is…I mean, wow! Wow! This looks like a professional set-up!”

“It’s as close as we could make it,” Mark says. “Freddy and me built this as soon as he bought this place. This was like, our dream back in high school. So…you like it, huh?”

“Like it? I think it’s awesome!” I bounce on the balls of my feet excitedly, unable to restrain myself. “Awesome! I can’t believe…I mean, this is like, the best first date EVER!”

Turning to each other, Mark and Freddy lift their fists in triumph. “She likes it! Yessss! Score!” Mark yells, and Freddy, laughing, holds his hand up. Mark slams a high-five into it and then they jump up and chest-bump each other joyfully.

Giggling at their shenanigans, I start to say thank you, but Mark steps forward, puts an arm around my waist and pulls me towards him in a fierce hug.

For the first time, I feel the immense strength he possesses. It makes me go all still and melty, while my heart feel like it grew about a thousand times in my chest.

I lean into him happily, hugging him back, and say thank you against his neck, my nose squished and my voice muffled. But I don’t care.

Arms around his shoulders, I’m aware of how hard his body is, how well-sculpted and solid he feels…and how his muscles move under his skin, seeming to thrum with excitement and power.

Again I’m struck with an electric, animal attraction. An image flashes through my mind…my legs wrapped around his waist, his cock buried inside me… and, for a moment, I’m stunned by a bright, intense lust.

Stunned by my own good fortune, I can’t believe how lucky I am that this handsome, sexy, giant of a man seems to like me so much.

“So, what do you say?” He’s looking down at me, smiling, eyes shining with fun. “You wanna go for a spin?”

“I just finished spraying the track, so hopefully you won’t get too dirty,” Freddy says.

“Yes, please! I mean, yes please, could we go for a spin? Right now, I mean?”

“Yeah, we’re doing it right now!” Mark pulls me towards the vehicles.

“Oh my God this is so awesome!!” I’m babbling, but I don’t even care. This is the nicest, most different first date ever!

“Yeah? I’m so glad you like it! I wasn’t sure you’d…y’know, because you already do a lot of driving, but…yeah! When you told me about your childhood dune-buggy capers, I thought I had a chance to score some major points.”

I look up at his face, marveling again at how handsome he is, delighting in all the warm, fuzzy, sexy feelings coursing through my body.

Freddy explains that he’ll be seated on the flagman’s platform while we tool around, just to watch and lend a hand in case something goes wrong. It’s not very likely that anything bad will happen, given that we’re both skilled drivers. And even if we weren’t, the vehicles are equipped with roll-bars and safety harnesses along with the huge tires and state-of-the-art suspensions.

I can’t wait to get out there and start roaring around that fantastic track!

Mark hands me a pair of goggles and helps me adjust the strap so they fit snugly over my eyes. Next, a helmet, which he also helps fasten under my chin.

Then, he helps me climb into the seat of the dune buggy. I smile up into his face as he leans over me, his big hands fussing with the harness, making sure it fits properly. His fingers brush against me here and there, and every touch produces a sensation like fizzing in my skin.

I’ve never experienced anything like it.

Satisfied with his work, he looks at me seriously, and takes a breath as if he’s about to say something. Instead, he leans forward and plants a quick but solid kiss right on my lips, leaving me breathless.

“For good luck,” he says.

Donning his own headgear, he climbs into his own buggy and straps himself in.

* * *

The engine on the dune buggy purrs smooth as silk. I rev it a little, just to see how it feels. Being as light as a feather, these vehicles don’t require a lot of horsepower, but, just by touching the gas to move it out of the barn, I can tell this baby has more than enough juice.

As usual, as soon as my hands grasp the wheel, a kind of a falling-away starts happening in my head. My thoughts start vanishing, replaced by a sense of peace and quietude. Any nervousness or anxiety or fear or uneasiness just disappears, leaving my head clear and my mind focused.

I’m slipping into the Zone. There’s something about being in control of something so powerful…the roar of the engine and the way the tires feel on the road, maybe. That, plus the need to be focused and fully present in order to operate the vehicle safely.

All I know for sure is, it’s a very welcome feeling.

I hear the rumble of the other buggy engine starting up and glance over to see Mark looking straight at me. Mock-seriously, I raise an eyebrow and incline my head at him. He returns the gesture, but I see the corners of his lips quirk upwards.

Freddy appears in front of my buggy and gives me a thumbs up. I flash one back, then he stands back and waves towards the track.

Looking at Mark again, I see him lift a hand and gesture for me to go first. I move my buggy slowly towards the line and stop in front of it, leaving room for Mark to pull up next to me.

He does.

No one said we were racing each other, exactly, but the way we’re now nose and nose at the starting line is giving me ideas.

Just one little race. A teeny one.

A quickie.

At the thought, a shiver of excitement goes through me. Without meaning to, my foot pops the throttle and revs the engine.

One shot of gas…then once again.

Mark turns his head to look at me quizzically.

I give it another shot of gas and smile.

He gives his engine a little shot of gas too and answers my grin with his own.

Oh, boy. Challenge accepted.

Freddy gestures to Gilda to go into the barn and tells her to ‘lie down’ and ‘stay’. She obeys instantly, and he closes the door after her so she’ll be safe inside from the cars, noise and dirt.

Freddy moves to stand in front of our vehicles now, and, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the buzzing of the engines, he says: “Okay, you two. This is NOT a race. I repeat, this is NOT a race. This is just for fun now, okay?”

Mark and I look at each other and rev our engines, grinning.

I call out to him: “Last one back to this line buys the other one a drink?”

“That’s it? I think the last one back should do a lot more than that,” he teases.

“We’ll have to negotiate that later, then,” I say.

He shakes his head. “Okay…but just the one lap. I want to play with you, baby, not against you.” There’s that wolfish grin again.

“May the best driver win!” I blow him a kiss.

Freddy holds his hands up. Shaking his head, he says “Really? You wanna race? Okay…Jesus. Wait for my count down then…lemme know when you’re ready.”

“Ready,” Mark and I call out it out simultaneously, and then laugh, both giving our engines little shots of gas.

God, this is fun! I had no idea how delicious it could be to play racing games with a sexy beast like Mark.

“Sheesh,” Freddy says, “alright, alright. Wait for my count!” He moves to the side of the track. I see him taking his phone out of his pocket. He fidgets with it for a second, then holds it up. Aha! He’s going to record this. Great, we’ll have a photo finish!

“Ready on three,” he calls out, “One…”

Mark and I both rev the engines.

In that instant, just as it always happens, my mind empties itself.

I’m staring straight ahead, no longer thinking about anything except my hands on the wheel and my foot on the throttle.

“Two,” Freddy calls out.

Time slows down and seem to stretch out, leaving my mind resting comfortably in that place where action happens without thought.

My favorite place.

“Three!”

I hit the gas, making my buggy leap forward and fly down the straight-away towards the first, distant jump.

It handles like a dream.

I forget that there’s anyone else around. I forget that I’m racing, I forget everything except driving for the sheer pleasure of it.

And driving this vehicle is nothing if not sheer pleasure.

The huge tires and sensitive suspension make it feel like it’s floating around the track. The tires have great grip and the track is so well-groomed, I barely feel anything until I approach the first jump.

I give it plenty of gas, so that the buggy maintains momentum going up the hill. It responds like a tiger, leaping up the hill and––whooooosh––up, up and away I go, grabbing so much air that for a brief, shining moment I can’t see anything except sky.

Woo-hoo! Exhilarating!

And when it comes back down, the buggy bounces on its tires and grabs the surface of the track without hesitation.

Leaning on the throttle, I curve the wheel so that the buggy takes the sharp turn handily, raising a rooster-tail of dust in its wake.

That sense of exhilaration expands to engulf me. The rush of speed and the sound of the wind and the engine filling me with that joyous light, that bright white light that driving fast always sparks…like nothing else…and the rest of the lap flies by in a blur of speed-induced endorphins.

I’m only dimly aware of Mark’s presence with me on this course. It’s more of a bodily awareness, and my body, at this moment, extends to include the vehicle I’m driving. It’s like I can simply feel the position of Mark’s buggy relative to mine, without having to look for him or think about it.

On the final straight-away towards the finish/starting line, I give it full throttle and flash past Freddy, who’s standing on the flagman’s platform, waving the checkered flag and holding his phone up.

As I brake my vehicle and shudder to a stop in a cloud of dust, I come back to myself, to my full, normal, thinking awareness.

Mark’s right there, his buggy next to mine.

“Jesus Christ!” Freddy’s yelling and jumping up and down, waving the flag so hard that he smacks himself in the head with it, producing an audible thunk. “Ow, fuck…” he says, laughing, letting go the flag before jumping down from the platform. “That was like, a perfect tie! Fuck! Perfect! You two were nearly neck and neck all the way around the fuckin’ track, I swear! Fuckin’ insane!”