by Nikki Chase
Even though I always make it clear that I’m on the move and I won’t stick around, some of them get it into their heads that they’re different and I’m going to stay this time. Then they kick up a fuss when I inevitably leave. It’s not my fault you don’t listen, honey.
According to my map, the next town in my path is called Ashbourne. I’ll grab breakfast there and check out the town, maybe spend a few days there if I can find a good place to stay.
I never make long-term plans these days. Hell, I don’t have what most people would call short-term plans. For now, all I know is where I’m eating my next meal. If there’s nothing interesting in Ashbourne, I’ll move on to the next town.
I’m way off the highway now, with thick woods on either side of the country road. Nobody but locals would normally traverse these roads. It’s a nice morning, with the sun just sleepily getting up, the first rays of light hitting the ground in blotches, filtered by the trees.
I squint my eyes to see through the smoky shield of my helmet. There’s a car stopped by the side of the road. A white sedan. As I get closer, I notice a woman standing in front of it, waving at me. The boot is popped up, the universal sign of car trouble.
I slow down and prepare to pull over. It always feels warmer when my bike comes to a stop because the wind doesn’t pummel into me anymore. But as soon as I can make out the shape of that body, the features of that face, it gets veritably hot.
Could that be her?
She looks different now. No heavy makeup, for one. And her hair is different, too. I remember the way her long, fiery red waves lit up the night, all those years ago, and now she has short, honey brown hair instead.
But it’s her. I’d bet my life on it. She gave me the best night of my life, and I’d recognize her anywhere.
Jessica
I pace around by my car as the robotic female voice on the phone says, “You’ve reached…,” followed by a male human voice that says, “Eddie’s Garage.” Then the automated voice takes over to finish the voicemail message. “Please leave your message after the beep.”
Damn this small town. I hang up and resist the urge to fling my phone at one of the big tree trunks in the woods that’s divided by this road. I don’t want to be stranded in the middle of nowhere and have nothing I can use to contact anyone.
I know it’s a Sunday, but this is ridiculous. Everything is closed, including the only garage in town. Everyone is either at church or hungover in bed. Some poor bastards are even hungover at church.
I don’t have time to wait for Eddie to get back to me tomorrow. I’m stranded right now. I know for a fact there’s not much traffic here even on weekdays. On a Sunday like today? It would take less time for me to walk the ten miles into town than it would for another soul to pass.
I call another number from the list of recent calls on my phone. I doubt he’s awake at this hour, and even if he is, it’s not like he’s any good at fixing cars. That’s why I tried calling the mechanic first.
“Hi, this is Tony. I can’t pick up your call right now, but leave your number after the beep and I’ll call you right back.”
Heh. I know his “right back” doesn’t mean anything. Tony is the worst at calling people back, but I need someone to pick me up so I wait for the beep.
“Hi Tone, while your ass is still in bed, I’m stuck here on the road to Dewhurst. My piece-of-junk car just died on me, like you always said it would. Yeah, I know. You told me so. Go and do your stupid happy dance. I hate you.
“Serves me right for trying to buy something good for the meeting on Wednesday night. I should stop trying to be nice. It’s bad for me.
“Did you know Eddie’s Garage is closed today? That should be illegal. They’re the only one in town that can fix my car. It’s a monopoly!
“Wait, what was I saying? Yeah, um. In summary, my car broke down. Call me when you wake up and come rescue me.”
I hang up and look around.
Luckily the sun is on its way up, because the woods creep me out when it’s dark. The morning sunlight actually looks really pretty streaming through the gaps between tree trunks and leaves. Birds are starting to wake up and sing, perching on tall branches.
I would’ve missed all of this had I just been driving through. Life’s little detours can be a good thing sometimes, I guess.
It’s not so bad. Worst case scenario, I’ll wait here for a few hours until Tony picks me up in his SUV. No doubt I’ll have to leave my car here, but this area is super safe and I’m sure nobody will damage my car. Plus, nobody in their right mind would steal it. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.
I guess I should try to do something, though. I can’t just sit here and play games on my phone. I’ll use up the battery and Tony won’t be able to reach me. Then I’ll be in real trouble.
I look around to check that there’s no traffic before I open the door. It’s completely unnecessary, of course. The lack of traffic is why I’m in trouble in the first place. But I’m a city girl at heart, and old habits die hard.
I walk to the front of the car and pop the boot open. I rest my hands on my waist while I stare at the engine, or whatever they call these things. Jesus. I have no idea what these black and grey pieces of metal are, much less how to make them work.
I run my fingers through my hair. It’s been a few months, but I’m still not totally used to how much shorter my hair is. I had long hair all my life, but I cut it before I moved here.
It was like a scene out of some action movie. On my last day in the city, I stood in my bathroom with a pair of scissors in my hand.
My plan was to lop off a few inches of hair until it was about shoulder length. I didn’t get it all the same length on the first try, of course. So I kept going until I had a stupid, uneven short hair that could maybe pass for a pixie cut if you didn’t look too closely.
And then I opened the box of hair dye that I’d bought from the drugstore. The picture on the box made it seem like I was going to have a pretty shade of chestnut brown after following the illustrated booklet of instructions. Instead, I ended up with a dull shade of mousy brown. Another sucker roped in by false advertising.
It didn’t matter how pretty the haircut or the hair colour looked, though. Funny. That was the first time in my life when hairstyling wasn’t about looking good.
The new hair was all about laying low. My long red hair would’ve stood out too much. Now that my brown hair has grown to shoulder length and has been coloured by an actual hairstylist, I no longer hate it.
Out of nowhere, I hear the roar of an engine in the distance. I perk up my ears. The sound gradually gets louder and deeper, telling me someone’s probably coming, against all odds.
A tiny Harley-Davidson appears in my line of vision as the motorcycle turns the corner in the distance.
“Yeah!” I punch my fist in the air. Finally, something good happens today.
I face the bike and watch it grow in size as it approaches. The guy riding it wears a black leather jacket and a black helmet. I wave at him and he slows down, pulling over to meet me at the side of the road.
I could tell it was a big bike from a distance, but it looks even bigger up close. It just didn’t seem its size before because the rider is a mountain of a man.
Big, broad chest and shoulders with strong arms that bulge and strain the sleeves of his leather jacket. He reminds me of someone from the past, someone I met years ago, who still visits my naughty dreams every now and again.
He grinds to a halt and turns off his engine. When the loud roar suddenly disappears, my ears take a few seconds to adjust to the relative silence of the woods, with the gentle rustling of the leaves and the birdsong in the background.
The man tilts his head and grabs his helmet with his big, masculine hands. For a moment, I wonder how they’d feel roaming all over my body, those long fingers exploring my curves.
It’s been a while since the last time I invited a man to my bed. I’d been too preoccupied with
getting myself to safety, too anxious about flying under the radar, to even remember about my womanly urges, aside from solitary moments in the dark before I go to sleep.
Besides, the men in the small town of Ashbourne are all taken, gay, or so different in age from me that getting together with them in that way would be completely inappropriate.
For example, sometimes even the teenagers in my class would awkwardly flirt with me. I’m not into younger men, and I’m definitely not interested in getting on the sex offender registry.
As the man in front of me removes his helmet, I watch in fascination to see what he looks like underneath. I already like the way his presence seems to fill the space and the confident way that he moves.
When I finally see his face, I almost gasp. Out of surprise, yes. But also, out of fear.
It’s definitely him. His dark hair is a little longer, but otherwise he looks exactly the same as he did three years ago.
Does he recognize me?
What is this man even doing here?
There’s one possible explanation that comes to mind, and I don’t like it.
Jacob
Her mouth hangs open. I can tell she recognizes me too. There’s shock on her face, and something else… Fear?
Sure, the way she disappeared on me wasn’t very nice. But there’s no reason for her to fear me. Just because I’m a big guy doesn’t mean I’m a violent neanderthal. Of course this common assumption comes in handy sometimes, allowing me to get my way without actually getting into any altercation. But if she’s afraid of me, that would annoy me big time. What does she think I am?
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” I balance my helmet on the Harley while I size her up.
She’s different in many ways, but she’s still as sexy as ever. My eyes roam all over her body. She’s still got that dancer’s body. Lean and tight, with curves in all the right places. Even in a simple pair of skinny jeans and a cotton shirt, she looks like temptation on a stick. And I’m definitely tempted.
I wonder what she’s doing here. Is she traveling like I am? Does she live and work here now? Would a small town like Ashbourne even have a strip joint?
“I… Uh… Maybe?” She hesitates, then shrugs and tries to change the subject. “My car died on me. Do you know anything about car repairs?”
Oh no, Missy. You’re not getting away that easily.
“Scarlett, right?” I stalk closer and take a good look. I watch her squirm, biting her full lips and swallowing.
“You’ve got me confused with someone else,” she says, challenging me with her big green eyes.
No way. I’ll never forget those eyes. I still remember the way they glaze over when she shivers from pleasure underneath me, her hands grabbing my arms and her muscles clenching around my cock.
“I’d never forget a girl like you,” I say with a smirk. “Maybe I’m not as memorable to you. Maybe you’ve had many interesting nights with many more interesting men, but that one night was pretty special to me.”
Her eyes flick to the side, like she’s thinking of something to say, searching for inspiration from our surroundings.
Too bad. There’s nothing else here but you and me. And we both know you’re not going anywhere with your car in that state.
“You’re going to stand there and tell me you’re not Scarlett? We both know that’s a bald-faced lie,” I say, trapping her gaze with mine.
“If you’re not here to help, you can continue on your way,” she snaps.
“Oh, no. I’m happy to help you. I’m really good with cars. And other things, as I’m sure you know. I’ve shown you how good I am with my hands.” I raise my eyebrows.
She blushes. Oh yeah, she remembers.
“I’m not the kind of guy who’d just leave a lady stranded by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere when I can help. I just want you to know, even if you don’t want to admit it, that I remember you.”
“Okay, fine. Maybe you know me,” she says while looking away. Jesus, it’s like pulling teeth. And all I want is for her to admit that we’ve met.
“But you’re not Scarlett?”
“My name’s Jessica.” She takes a deep breath, defeated.
“Well, Jessica. Nice to meet you again. I’m still Jacob.” I shoot her a crooked grin while I step closer to the car. “Now, let’s look at this car of yours.”
“It was running fine before, but then out of nowhere it just started to slow down and finally stop. I couldn’t get it to budge no matter how much I press on the gas pedal.” Now she’s suddenly found her voice.
She looks relieved that I’ve stopped asking questions about herself. Apparently, we’ve moved on to talking about the car instead. She’s definitely determined to keep the conversation on the same track.
As I peer under the hood, it quickly becomes clear to me what’s wrong with her car. It’s a common enough problem for old cars. It would take me less time to fix it than it did for me to get her name.
I’m definitely not done with her, though. She thinks she can walk away from me just like that and pretend nothing ever happened? Think again.
“I have the tools, but it’s going to take a whole day for me to fix it.” I turn to the side to watch her face fall.
She’s leaning against the front of the car beside me, looking at the same engine I’m looking at, but definitely not seeing what I can see. Which is great for me.
I can tell her whatever I want and she’d have no choice but to buy it.
“Oh. Well. Forget it then,” she says. “My friend should pick me up soon. I’ll go home and tomorrow the mechanic can come to fix it.”
Home? That’s interesting, That means she lives here now.
I can’t let the mechanic see the car. One look and he’d know it’s a simple fix. If he were to tell her, she’d know I’m bullshitting her.
“It’s okay. I have time. I’ll fix it for you. If you don’t want to wait here, I can take you home on my bike. I’ll come back to fix the car and bring the key back to you. Tomorrow we can come back to get it.”
I imagine her sitting on the back of my Harley, her thighs spread wide by the seat, the wind wrapping her top tight around her body. Maybe if I speed up she’d hold on tight and press her perky tits against my back.
She bites her bottom lip and stares at the engine, as if she’d get some divine inspiration and suddenly understand the inner workings of a car.
Her body is slightly bent at the waist, making her ass stick out deliciously in the air. Damn. The view makes me want to grab her hips and fuck her right here against her old, fucked-up car.
“If you’re worried I’m going to bail, I can leave my stuff at your place. You don’t have to worry about me stealing this car.” I chuckle, which makes her shoot me an angry look.
Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t find it funny. Your car isn’t worth shit and you know it.
She takes one last look at the car engine under the hood, sighs audibly, and finally meets my gaze. “Okay.”
Okay? I’m doing her a big favor and all she has to say to me is okay? If she wasn’t so fucking sexy, I would’ve laughed at her while riding away. She’d be watching my ass getting smaller and smaller in the distance while she stands here helpless and alone.
As it is, though, she’s got my full attention. Ever since that night, she’s haunted my dreams. I’ve woken up with my cock hard and my hands running over cold bed sheets, wishing I was touching her soft, creamy skin instead. I’d jerk off to memories of that one night, conjuring images of her writhing in the throes of ecstasy while I lie alone in the dark.
“Okay.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal and slam the hood down. The sound makes her jump and I stifle a laugh as she glowers at me. “You may want to lock your car. It’s unlikely anybody would want to steal it, but you can’t be too careful.”
I open the hard-plastic luggage bag mounted on the back of my motorcycle and grab my spare helmet. It takes up a lot of space, but it comes in ha
ndy sometimes.
Some girl bought it so she could ride with me. When I left her town, she told me to keep it because she wasn’t going to use it with me gone. I had a feeling she was hoping I’d remember her whenever I see the helmet—I do, in a way, but it doesn’t evoke any particular memory about her. I don’t even remember her name.
Now, this girl in front of me who’s grabbing her stuff from inside her beat-up Toyota, I know both her names and I’ll remember them for a long time. I check out the curve of her ass that’s hanging outside the car while she bends down with one leg on the ground and one knee on the car seat.
I could walk over there and push down on her lower back right now, yank her jeans down and plunge deep inside her. There’s nobody here but wood critters. No vehicles passing by. Nobody’s going to stop us.
Besides, I remember how responsive her body is to my touch. I’m sure she’s going to push back against me and scream out my name in no time.
Beep! The sound of the car doors being locked pulls me away from my imagination. Scarlett—no, Jessica—is walking toward me, her full hips swaying with every step. She has put on a green hoodie on top of her shirt. Yeah, baby. This is happening.
I hand her the spare helmet. She takes a quick look at it and gives me a confused frown. Okay, so the helmet is a little girly. It’s black with flowers all over and hot pink skull and crossbones at the back.
I shrug. I don’t have to explain anything to her.
She went away with no explanation after giving me one explosive, unforgettable night and leaving me hungry for more. After her, no matter how much I indulge myself with other women, I could never get any lasting satisfaction. I’d always compare them with her.
If I give women the impression that I’m the kind of guy who’s just gonna fuck them and dump them, it’s only because of this one woman who’s now putting on the ridiculous helmet and climbing onto my Harley Davidson.
I know some women who still hold on to some kind of deep-seated grudge toward me. Well, if nothing else, now that I’m about to find out where Jessica lives, I’ll be able to give them an address where they can send their complaints.