As the minutes drag into hours, Victoria finds herself completely taken with the handsome stranger. It's hard not to be swept up by his charm, not to let him rest a hand on her thigh, or lean close when he says sweet things.
Everything about Matt makes Victoria feel hot, makes her skin tingle. She laughs too loud and talks too much, falling sway to the conversation like she hasn't spent her entire life trying to be a proper lady.
But those lessons fall away in the wake of a grime and smoke-filled room. They fall away when Matt smiles at her, all crooked teeth and nicotine-tinged breath.
“You're beautiful,” he tells her, long after the last bell has rung. Aside from Meg, there's no one else around. “You are absolutely stunning. Tell me, you're running away from your parents? Are you headed to someone else?”
Victoria shakes her head. “I don't know where I'm going. That's why I'm here, I guess. I just didn't want to be there anymore, stuck in the same old rut. I want to live! I want to do something risky, for once, do something other girls my age would brag about!”
Matt glances at the clock, then at Meg. The barkeep waves her key ring at them, a clear sign she's about ready to leave. He asks, “Like to ride a motorcycle?”
“Like...do what?”
“A motorcycle.” Matt taps the leather vest that he's wearing. “I ride. I thought, if you're just trying to live a bit tonight, that might be a good place to start. It's safer than just running around in the dark, alone. That's not smart, Tori.”
“I know it's not,” she says. Rationally, she knows going for a ride with a stranger is just as dangerous. Irrationally, there's a fire raging between her thighs and a storm in her chest and the longing to do something insane biting at her brain.
She gets up, pulling a folded-up bill from her pocket. Victoria lays it on the counter, enough to cover the tab for the night and then some. She holds her finger to her lips, begging the other woman to be silent.
Wide-eyed, Meg nods in agreement and holds the folded-up bill to her chest. “You two be safe out there. You're good to drive, Matt?”
“When am I not?”
“Two nights ago, when I had to clean your ass up off the floor.”
“I'm fine,” grouses Matt with a wave of his hand. “Don't worry yourself over it. Come on, Tori. I parked out at the side.”
# # #
The parking lot is dimly lit. A beat-up truck sits in one lot, and a well-cared for motorcycle sits in another. Victoria knows very little about motorbikes, but she's positive this is an expensive one, that it's taken care of just as well as her father’s favorite sports car, which he pays someone to maintain. “It's amazing,” says Victoria, dragging her fingers over the smooth, black paint.
Matt grins. “She is pretty great, right?”
“She? How do you know it's a girl?”
“I can just tell,” says Matt. “So, you ever been on one before?”
Victoria shakes her head. “No. I've never even been this close to one!”
“All right, it's pretty simple. I'm going to get on first.” Matt does so, moving like the motion is second nature. “Now you get on behind me. You're probably going to have to push that skirt up pretty high…”
Unashamed and maybe even a skewered attempt to flirt, Victoria hikes up her skirt until her panties are only just hidden and slips onto the motorcycle. It's strange, having her legs straddle the giant piece of machinery. She feels unbalanced and uncertain. “Like this?”
“Yeah,” says Matt, fumbling to get the keys out. “Just like that. Now, you're going to want to put your arms around my waist. There we go, hold on real tight. I don't have seat belts on this thing, so you're going to have keep a good grip on me. Probably best if you lean forward, too.”
Again, Victoria listens. Her breasts press against his back. She shifts about on purpose. “Okay, I think I'm on well enough. Where are we going?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“I don't know anything out here.”
“Just pick something, anything!”
Victoria says, “Your house?”
Matt throws his head back and laughs, hard and loud. It's a nice, rolling sound. “My house? All right, I think that one might be feasible.”
The motorcycle starts up with a deafening roar. Victoria squeals when it starts to tremble and buck against her thighs. Her grip on Matt's waist turns to iron, white-knuckled and clenching.
“Hang on,” he bellows.
And just like that, they take off down the street. The vibrations spread through her thighs and along her spine, where they settle at her very core. It's like nothing she has ever felt before. She presses her face against the side of Matt's neck, belatedly realizing that neither of them are wearing helmets.
That's dangerous, isn't it? Victoria is certain it's dangerous. She doesn't know much about motorcycles, but any intelligent human being can tell that careening around corners at such a high speed isn't safe. And, still, it's exhilarating.
Victoria has never felt like this before. Her chest is tight, and her skin is tingling. The places where she's curled up around Matt's body feel hot and light, as if she's floating. The vibrations make her loins hot and her panties damp. She's wearing a pair of silver satin panties that suddenly seem like an awful, horrible, wonderful thing.
“This is insane,” she shouts, raising her voice to be heard over the crashing wind.
Matt shifts. His muscular back rolls against Victoria's front; her breasts press against his leather back, her hands clutch against the man's front, just above his jeans. “Just hold on! I'll make this quick!”
“Make it long,” shouts Victoria, in turn. “I don't want this night to ever end!”