Ride to Redemption

by D. J. Wilson

  After a pleasant walk and a relaxing shower, I was ready to grab a bite and make a run to the airport. It sure would be nice to see her again. I can’t wait to hold her and taste those beautiful luscious lips, never far from my mind.

  I arrived at the airport a little before two and parked in the cellular waiting area. I have trouble getting used to the new regulations at airports. I’d love to be waiting for her at the gate, a giant smile greeting her as she stepped into view. But, alas, I settled for the waiting area and texted her my whereabouts. Once she cleared security, she was easy to spot, carrying only a backpack and a look of enthusiasm and joy.

  Candice Parker came bouncing through the main doors in a low-cut top that made all the guys within earshot look twice, including me. Kissing her deeply just as she reached the truck, I looked her over, head to toe. “Wow, you look great!” I exclaimed. “It’s time we got reacquainted!”

  She squeezed me in tight, almost giggling with happiness. “I’ve missed you!”

  “Me, too, I’m glad you’re here. Your next adventure awaits,” I proudly announced.

  As we traveled back to the hotel, I said, “By the way, I met some interesting guys at the hotel. If we get back by four, they said they’d like to meet you. They’re in a band, and they even offered us back-stage passes to their concert in Sturgis on Tuesday.”

  “No kidding?” she asked. “Just like that — out of the blue, they offer up big tickets! Wow. Who are they?”

  “I never asked, actually. All I know is their names are Billy, Frank and Dusty. I think they’re from Texas, but I’m not even sure about that. Honestly, I felt kinda bad not recognizing them. I hated to ask who the heck they were.”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter,” she offered. “Shoot, we’ll be in Sturgis — might as well take in the sites back stage! It’ll just be a mystery.

  The rest of the trip back was filled with her latest engagements since we’d last seen one another. Her work days had been stressful and tiring, but she was ready to play hard now that she’d finally arrived and was settling into this new adventure. I was pleased to see how excited she was about it all. It settled my own nerves knowing her as receptive and willing to enjoy this moment.

  The route, back from the airport brought us in by the convention center, located next door to the hotel. “Look,” Candi squealed, “ZZ Top is playing here tonight! Oh, let’s go! Ah, crap,” she said instantly. “They’re sold out. Dang it! I’d love to see them.”

  “I’ll ask the hotel concierge. Maybe he’ll have some insight on where we could snag two tickets,” I suggested, knowing there was no chance in Hades of finding tickets this late.

  “Okay,” she chirped, happy with the suggestion.

  “Where are these guys I’m supposed to meet?” Candi asked. “Do we need to look them up before heading to the room?”

  “We should find them in the bar, if they’re still here. We had better check now. Hang a right down the hall, the bar is on the right, just ahead.”

  Following her into an almost empty bar, Candi looked sorely disappointed. “They’re not here, baby,” she spoke rather glumly. “Shoot, I was hoping they were ZZ Top.”

  “Funny, Candi,” I laughed, “Fat chance of that!”

  “I think you’d have known ZZ Top if you’d seen them!”

  I pondered in my mind if I really would know them. All I knew of ZZ Top was a few songs and a name, eh, no matter.

  Off to my left was the pool and there was a small bar set up and off to the side. “Come on, one more place to look.” I followed up that comment with, “It’s really no big deal, I guess if we meet up with them today or not. We’ll see them at Sturgis, one way or another.”

  We gave up our search after not seeing a soul at the poolside bar. “Are you up for an early dinner?”

  “Sure, baby. Just let me freshen up. Lead the way to the room.”

  It took only five minutes of freshening, a record I bet somewhere was broken, and we were out the door, headed downtown to Sweet Fanny’s.

  Within the hour, we’d found two cozy seats in a booth, beside the front window.

  Candi ordered their famous corned beef and cabbage, while I munched on their fish and chips. Wandering around the restaurant, we discovered multitudes of signed pictures on the walls, commemorating WWII events and the soldiers that took part in them. “Amazing,” said Candi, “that the owners could manage to assemble a collection like this in the middle of Iowa. This is neat!”

  We enjoyed our meal and our little history tour of the place. Dinner was again memorable and Candi, by her rather hearty appetite, more than approved of my restaurant choice.

  “I haven’t eaten since breakfast, baby. I was so starved. You want to split a dessert?”

  “How about later,” I offered, “right now I have your inaugural motorcycle ride planned for this evening.”

  “I wondered when you were finally going to take me riding. I need to get my rear accustomed to the bike seat before our trip.”

  “I really thought it best we start here, that way you could not back out. Kind of like you’ll just have to adjust, adapt and overcome any fears you may have over the next eighteen hundred miles.”

  “That’s mean, D; I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “You certainly are, baby.”

  You most certainly are.

  Chapter 12

  Back at the hotel, I opened the closet and pulled out a low-cut tee, a red thong and her new chaps. “Here, baby. Put these on.”

  “You’re kidding,” Candi exclaimed, “Aren’t you forgetting my jeans?”

  “Nope,” I confessed, “I’m wearing the same, including this banana hammock-like thong you sent me with your clothes.”

  “Seriously D, you’re out of your friggin’ mind. We might get away with this in San Francisco, but this is frigging conservative Iowa.”

  “Chill, baby. There’s a method to my madness. Your first bike ride with me has to be a memorable one. I’ve dreamed non-stop about tonight. Hopefully after all our long distance bonding, we can make this a night to remember for a very long time.”

  Dressing quietly and mischievously, I gave her a reassuring hug and a knee-high rain jacket to wear over her newly exposed flesh.

  “Really?” she chided. “Now we’re wearing trench coats? Tell me we’re not headed to an underground sex club right now.”

  “No, baby, we’re going to wear these ‘til we get out of town.” I could just see Candi’s head spinning regarding what adventure I had dreamed up that required extremely brief (no pun intended) attire.

  Helmets in hand, we made our way down the back elevator and to the bike. “Now remember,” I said, “hold on tight to me initially and lean with me on the curves, not against me. Once you’re comfortable that we’re not going to turn over, you can relax. You’ll get the feel of it.”

  Off we rode into the darkness. Candi’s first words were, “D, I love to feel the wind in my hair.”

  “Really, baby, I kinda dreamed you would.”

  Just past the outskirts of town, heading east, I stopped in an empty and dark parking lot. “Okay, baby, hand me your coat,” I instructed, while removing mine. Opening the trunk, I placed them inside and removed the BOA. “Here, baby, hold this,” I directed, while kissing her firmly on the lips. “I want you now!”

  Cupping each breast through her thin Tee, I kissed and gently nibbled both sides of her neck. I could sense her warming to my caress. “I’m sure you remember our toy … designed to assist me in accelerating your orgasm launch times,” I purred, as I turned it on and maneuvered it, specifically, where it was designed to go.

  “I’ve waited so long to kiss you, to taste you, to touch you on this — inaugural ride,” I breathed, as the BOA made its way inside her, deftly bypassing her bright red thong. Massaging her now wet depths with my fingers while my lips danced across hers, I whispered into her ear.

  “Now, it gets better…”

  I climbed back on the bike and e
ased onto the highway. Iowa’s long and straight roads made for the perfect opportunity to create my carefully crafted plan. Rumbling at 20 MPH, I motioned for Candi to hand me her BOA. Before we reached cruising speed, I said, “You are most welcome to bite my neck, kiss me, and caress me. If we can time this just right, you can use both your hands to bring me off the same time as you.”

  “Just how are you going to do that, D, with your hands, currently occupied?”

  “You’ll feel it, when we get it right!”

  Reaching 50 MPH, I used the throttle lock to maintain my current speed, which in turn freed my dominant right hand, to expertly redirect the BOA, to its eventual resting place. With 35 miles of empty road before us, the wind bristling through her hair, I hoped that this first ride would remove any apprehension of riding a motorcycle, as well as, being with me; while providing nothing, but the fondest of memories.

  At the twenty-eight mile mark, both my aspirations came true. Candi increased her tempo of me as the BOA carried her over the top, both literally and figuratively. Yelling and screaming with no one to hear except maybe the cows, we both released at the same time, releasing wave after wave of pent up excitement into a star-filled Iowa night. There is truly something exhilarating about the wind blowing through your hair, as well as across your private parts, while cruising down a desolate Iowa highway at night, focusing not only on what lays ahead, but also on what sits behind.

  Chapter 13

  “Candi,” I breathed, while we covered and clothed our skimpiness, “I never dreamed just how fun a night ride could be through the cornfields of Iowa.”

  “Of course, D, it had some help from you, your bike, and my new special friend, the B.O.A.”

  We skirted back to the hotel and into the room a little before 11 p.m. with no one else the wiser.

  Settling into bed, Candi looked squarely into my eyes and said, “Thank you for my first — and up to now — my most memorable motorcycle ride. I don’t know what it is with you and your compulsion to create orgasms in motion for me. Don’t get me wrong, baby; I will never forget this for the rest of my life. Do you realize your fantasies of motion driven O’s started on your swing, then in your beamer, on the boat, in my SUV and now have been realized on your bike? You are creative, as well as resourceful,” Candi continued, oozing with endearing confidence.

  “Thank you, baby. Every day I spend with you I want to be unforgettable. Since neither of us is promised a tomorrow, I’m trying to make every day with you count.”

  “You do, baby. You do,” mumbled Candi fading away, as she rolled over, spooning gently into me.

  Snuggling close, her scents and sounds, placed me into a wonderfully calm state of mind. Here and now, I was comfortable beside her. After so much effort and planning, our day had finally arrived.

  My mind wandered and tossed me into a “what if” dream, if I could open up to her about my past and the purpose of this trip, we might be able to create real memories that didn’t have to be skewed by just lust. I guess I have waited a long time to get this far... I can wait a little longer.

  We slept in, and I never made it outside to walk. I settled for the hotel’s treadmill on an 8% incline for 20 minutes. That at least broke a sweat. Armed with two black and green teas, I woke Candi from her slumber with a kiss to her lips. “Morning, baby. It’s Sunday, and our adventure continues.”

  Kissing me back, her arms wrapped round my neck Candi whispered in my ear, “Our adventure has started out absolutely wonderful, so far. Just what’s in store for us today?” she chuckled, placing her hand deftly on my package.

  “I’ve got an idea,” prompted by her rather suave hand location, “let’s start with a mutually beneficial shower, between friends,” I cooed.

  “With benefits, don’t forget the benefits,” Candi chimed in.

  “How could I forget that?” I asked — my manhood totally awake, pointing expertly toward the shower door.

  After a wash, a romp and roll, Candi spoke, in halted breath. “I’m hungry.”

  “Let’s do brunch at Sweet Fanny’s, baby. I noticed they offer it on weekends.”

  “That works for me, I’m starving.”

  Repacking only my basics and her much maligned necessities, I secured the rest of our gear in the truck. Traveling fast and light has never been a problem for me. I hoped Candi could equally adjust — especially since 50% of my trunk space is filled with her makeup and blow dryer.

  Dressed in Les’ fine Italian leather and her own skinny jeans and tee, Candi met me at the bike with her backpack and a let’s get this show on the road mentality. Like a pro, I was amazed to see she had already settled in, ready to rock-n-roll.

  And with that, we rode off into Old Town looking like we had been on this bike at least 10,000 miles before.

  Upon arrival, I chose a large table near the front window again, where I could spread out my gear. I use both a GPS and an atlas to confirm which back roads would take us through Nebraska and South Dakota on our way to Sturgis. By my calculations, I felt we could make it there by Tuesday afternoon with enough time to locate the campground and pick up the tickets for the concert.

  Just as we were about to order, two new Harley Road King’s pulled up in front of the restaurant. Their riders were disproportionate in size — one being at least 6’2” while the other was at least a foot shorter. Just as the tall one removed his helmet, Candi gasped and choked as if the glass of water in her hand had gone down the wrong way without ever touching her lips. Sporting long wavy jet-black hair, huge biceps, a gold earring and a multitude of tatts, this guy looked as if he stepped straight out of the stud section of GQ. I wondered if that was what brought on this choking episode. He seemed to take her breath away — something I wasn’t real fond of at the moment. “Are you okay, baby?”

  “I am. Just let me catch my breath,” she spoke in halted breaths, as her complexion changed from rosy pink to a much paler shade.

  “Hey, look,” I exclaimed, as the shorter rider removed her helmet. “It’s a girl.”

  A striking, petite girl stepped from her ride. She was at least twenty years younger than her oversexed male companion. She sported matching tatts. Her ‘store-bought chest,’ paired up nicely with an ass to die for.

  “Wow, baby,” I exclaimed, looking the babe over closely. “Maybe someday you could ride your own bike, too.”

  “Doubt it,” replied Candi, curtly and still short of breath, which I attributed to the lingering effects of her choking episode. “I’m only riding to be with you.”

  This rugged, tattoo-covered couple ambled into the restaurant, and after perusing the other available tables, chose a table next to ours. The second thing I noticed were all the international flags on their helmets. The third thing was this guy’s aroma.

  “They have to be European,” I whispered to Candi, who was somewhat startled by my current observation. “Look at all the flags on his helmet — plus, he is wearing Italian colors as a bandana. And lastly, he smells. Don’t know what it is with these European studs and their hate for deodorant,” I continued. “They evidently can’t smell themselves. They’re kind of like chronic smokers who smoke in tight spaces, not knowing how rancid they smell to the rest of us.

  Candi seemed amused by my observations, but continued to appear pale and shaken from her choking episode.

  “Hi. I’m D, and this is Candi,” I announced to the newly arrived exotic couple beside us.

  “Ciao,” they replied in unison.

  Speaking to Candi, I confided honestly, “Ciao means hi and goodbye in Italian. Unfortunately, that is the extent of my Italian, except for pizza and lasagna.”

  To my surprise, Candi spoke back to them. “Ciao,” she said, followed by a litany of excited Italian that I couldn’t begin to understand. Startled by her bilingual ability and the familiarity with which she spoke, I mused, “Evidently you speak Italian very well. What other languages do you speak, if I might ask?”

  “French, Spanish, Ger
man and some Russian,” replied Candi, as if apologizing.

  “You constantly surprise and amaze me, Candice,” I told her, shaking my head, completely and utterly dumbfounded.

  After what seemed like a 10-minute conversation between the Italian biker and Candi, I learned his name was Gio and his riding companion was Mile. Gio spoke decent English, which I concluded was a stretch, while Mile spoke little to none. They had landed in Sioux City on Friday from Milan and rented two bikes for two weeks. After lunch, they, too, were leaving for Sturgis.

  “I hate to interrupt this pseudo-Italian family reunion,” I announced, “but if we don’t eat soon, we’ll never get out of here.”

  With a few more courteous words exchanged with our newfound friends, Candi and I ordered eggs Benedict with two sides of sourdough, as a late breakfast. The Italians ordered lunch. Picking up where they left off, their conversation with Candi continued nonstop in Italian. They seemed completely oblivious to my lack of understanding.

  After several minutes, I’d finally had enough and asked Gio and Mile to join us. I didn’t relish the man smell that accompanied Gio, but I tolerated it as best I could. Nothing my Right Guard won’t fix.

  Gio explained that he wanted to go through Wounded Knee, SD, on their way to Sturgis. He’d been informed that the last battle in the American Indian Wars occurred there in 1890. I assured him that there would be a museum of sorts there, and that it would be a nice stop-off for a rest. I also asked where else that they planned to ride, on the way to Sturgis.

  He mentioned Badlands National Park in his crude English. I had been through that park once before, myself, and I clued him in to the lay of the land. “It’s desolate and barren, with little, if any, water. But, in a strange way, very beautiful, where only the strongest survive both plants and animals.

  Gio’s inquisitive stare turned to a suggestive smile of enlightenment. “You go beside us!” he exclaimed. “How you say … ride with us?”