by Claire Adams
"How do I look, Mr. Colson?" I smiled as I entered the massive garage in the basement of the building. It was filled with hundreds of motorcycles, all them looking shiny and new. He was standing next to a pair of matching bikes with an innovative new design that I correctly guessed must be the All-American. Both the bikes were comprised entirely of black leather, steel, and shiny chrome.
"You look like a pro already. Please, call me Ethan. It distracts from freedom of the open road if we're being so formal with each other, and I want you to get a proper sense of what it means to be a true biker."
"Okay, Ethan." The feeling of calling him by name made me flush, but I liked the sound of it. I liked it even better when he called me by mine.
"Okay then, Kayla. Hop on one, and I'll teach you everything you need to know about riding a motorcycle."
I chose the blue one and the lessons began. The garage was spacious enough that we could ride around in it, but after a short time, Ethan surprised me by saying, "Okay, you're doing great. Now, let's take it out on the open road."
"You're kidding." I thought he was being like Mick and teasing me with a lie, but he was dead serious. Feeling my stomach tie up in knots, I said, "But I've never even been on a bike before today."
"Well, you've mastered brakes, using your mirrors, safety, accelerating, and even turns. The only thing you need to learn now is the joy of riding, and that is best found out on the open road. Follow me. I won't go anywhere you can't keep up. You're safe with me."
As he said the words, I knew it was true. Ethan wasn't the kind of man who would push me too far or take me out of my capabilities. He'd been nothing but patient and encouraging during our lessons that afternoon, gently guiding me when I needed it and even giving me the courage to push myself to try things I never would have dared before. All the while, I knew he was looking after me and keeping me safe. He was a protector and a teacher, not a bully. I could trust him.
He rode out of the garage into the bright, afternoon light, and I followed behind him at an easy pace. Soon, he had guided me out onto a country road I never would have known was there, hidden against the hills behind the corporate offices and high-rises. The road sloped and turned, and when it came to a long straight away Ethan opened up the engine and took his bike up to high speeds.
I surged forward to catch up with him, gasping at the thrill the sudden acceleration caused me. It was exhilarating, freeing, and fun. He slowed down so I could catch up with him, and feeling playfully daring, I passed him. Now, I was in the lead, and it was up to him to follow me. It was so wonderful, like being a child at play again. It had been a long time since I'd had that feeling. Too long.
When we came to a large, open clearing with a large oak tree growing in the center, Ethan waved and gestured with his hand, indicating for me to pull over. I came to a slightly awkward halt under the tree, and Ethan pulled up beside me and took off his helmet. His hair was a mess, and he was grinning widely.
"You did great. How do you feel?"
"I think I've got the hang of this." I smiled. I had pulled my helmet off, too. I knew my hair was just as messy as his and I tried to smooth it with my hands, but that only made it worse.
"I think you're ready for the shoot next week. Let's take a rest before we head back."
He'd packed some bottled water and some trail mix in the container on the back of his bike, and I accepted some gratefully. We sat in the tall grass under the shade of the magnificent tree and just enjoyed the afternoon breeze through our hair and the sunshine on our faces.
"I finally understand why bikers like to ride so much. I always thought they were crazy. Why would anyone want to be exposed to the weather when they could be safe in the comfort of a car? Now I know, this is so much better. It's so freeing and fun."
"I'm glad I could make a convert out of you." Ethan's eyes danced as he grinned at me.
"Have you always been into motorcycles?" I asked and listened with interest as he told me about his years working for Kruger in the motorcycle parts division and how it slowly turned into a passion for bikes and riding.
"You must have been scared when you put your first motorcycle on the market. I mean, starting your own company like that and having it all depend on the success of that one bike; that's a lot of pressure," I said, feeling somewhat in awe of the courage it must have taken to leave a secure career and go for his dreams.
"I guess, but I didn't think of it that way when I was living it. You just follow your gut and take each moment as it comes. It must have been similar for you, leaving your hometown to come to L.A. to be a model."
"I guess it was. I didn't think about the consequences, at all. I just packed my suitcase, threw it in the back of my boyfriend's car, and off we went."
"So, you came here with a boyfriend? What happened to him, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Oh, we're still together. In fact, I'd better let him know what time I'll be getting back home to him. He never cooks his own dinner, and I bet the house is a mess. He'll want to know when I'll be back to take care of everything. How much longer will this lesson be?"
"I guess it's over. Let's go back." Ethan looked strange, like he was disappointed or angry. He kick-started his bike to life and rode off into the distance.
It was too bad. I had enjoyed spending time with him, talking and sharing our stories. He made me feel interesting, and I loved the way his eyes twinkled when he laughed. I hated for this moment to end, but I knew Mick really would be helpless without me. Sometimes I felt more like his mother and housekeeper than his girlfriend.
Bewildered by Ethan's sudden curtness, I followed him onto the country road and back to the Speed Motorcycles corporate offices. Even though something was clearly bothering him, he still held back enough on the throttle for me to follow him without feeling rushed or strained, and when I started to lose control of the bike going over the storm grate entering the garage, he was immediately concerned.
"Are you all right?" he pulled up to a stop beside me.
"Yes, I'm okay. I remembered the technique you taught me for regaining control."
"Good, I wouldn't want anything to happen to my new cover model." He was staring into my eyes, and I got the impression I meant a lot more to him than that, although I didn't see how that was possible. We hardly knew each other. I'd been in a relationship with Mick for five years, and he wasn't that concerned with my wellbeing, so why would this man who was practically a stranger care so much about me?
We parked our bikes, and his assistant guided me back to the changing room to return the riding suit and put my regular clothes back on. When I came out, I disappointed that I never got a chance to say goodbye to Ethan. Somehow, I had half expected to see him waiting for me by the exit, but I don't know why he would be. He was an important CEO and owner of the biggest motorcycle company in the country, and I was nothing more than a struggling model.
Still, something told me that I would see him again before the shoot, and what surprised me most of all was how much I hoped it would be soon.
Chapter Five
Ethan
"What time is the cover shoot today?" It didn't appear anywhere on my itinerary for the day, and I couldn't wait to see Kayla again.
"Keith called it off. He said it's been pushed back to Friday," Angela said.
"He pushed it back again? Can't anyone in this damn company do anything on time?" I hadn't been sleeping well, and it was beginning to take a toll on me. The disappointing news that I wouldn't be seeing Kayla after looking forward to it all week pushed me over the edge into becoming a cranky asshole.
I knew it wasn't Angela's fault and I shouldn't take it out on her, but unfortunately for her, she was the only one in the room. Slamming my schedule shut, I snapped at her, "What the hell is the delay this time?"
"How should I know? Something to do with repairs to the studio. You seem tense. Let me rub your shoulders," Angela offered, but I avoided her manicured hands with a shrug.
"N
o thanks. I don't have the time. Tell Keith I won't accept any more delays. The shoot is being held on Friday, whether he's ready or not."
"Yes, sir," Angela said, but her voice was dripping with sarcasm and not respect.
"Did he inform the photographer and crew about the new shoot date?"
"Everybody knows except for the model. Apparently, the cell number she put on her résumé has been temporarily disconnected. Keith is wondering if we need to go with the second runner up."
"The hell we will. I selected Kayla Brandt and that's the model we're going with. I'll contact her myself if necessary."
I stormed from the office, leaving a stunned Angela in my wake. I felt like a shitheel for taking out my anger on her, but I couldn't help it.
Ever since I went riding with Kayla, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. I could hardly concentrate on work. I spent all my time reviewing her file over and over, just staring at her picture. I kept replaying the conversation we had under the oak tree over in my memory, hearing her laugh, seeing her smile, reliving the stories she shared, and the way it felt when her hand brushed against mine when we both reached into the bag of trail mix at the same time.
At night, my dreams were filled with images of her kissing me, putting her mouth on my dick, and making love to me. I imagined what it would feel like to put my hands all over her perfect body, and how it would taste to kiss those magnificent tits. I was obsessed with her, and I was counting down the hours until I could see her again, even if it was only in the context of a photoshoot.
She told me she had a boyfriend; one that she'd been seeing for five years. That was a long-term, committed relationship, and I knew I had no chance with her. What could I offer her besides a one-night stand? I was a firm bachelor, resolute against changing my ways. She was better off without me trying to get her into the sack. Still, I needed to at least look at her one last time, talk to her, and hear her pretty voice before I let her go from my fantasies. I knew I could never have her, but I could at least indulge in one last day with her as I watched her model for the cover shoot. Then, I could let her go in peace.
Only now, the fates were working against me as once again Keith had delayed the shoot, and now Kayla's phone number was out of service. It was more than I could take. I decided to drive to her apartment to tell her about the new shoot date. I would even pick her up in my car and drive her to the studio personally if it was the only way I could see her again.
I stormed down to the garage in the basement of the building and got in my bright-red Ferrari. I sped through the city streets of L.A. until I came to the La Heurta Vista apartments. They were dingy, with plaster falling off the walls and an empty pool out front surrounded by a gate that was half falling down. It was filled with leaves and plastic garbage bags and obviously hadn't held water in years.
I knew exactly which apartment was Kayla's, since I'd memorized her entire file, including her address, during my obsessive re-reading of it over the past two weeks. As I approached her door, however, I heard distinct shouts coming from inside.
"How could you lose this job? How fucking stupid are you?" an angry male voice was yelling so loud I could hear him from outside.
"I didn't lose it. The doors were just locked when I got to the studio and no one was there. Maybe they rescheduled it." The distinct sound of Kayla's sweet voice pleading.
"Yeah, rescheduled with someone else. It told you to quit being such a prude. Maybe if you were willing to give it up little with that CEO guy, you wouldn't have lost the job and we wouldn't be broke. Do you know how humiliating it was to have my debit card turned down at the liquor store?"
"I have the money I was going to use for a new bus pass. You can use that to buy your beer. Are you sure nobody from Speed Motorcycles called? Are you sure there aren't any messages about the shoot being rescheduled?"
"Hey, what the hell are you doing? Get the fuck away from that phone!" The male voice sounded even angrier, and I felt my instincts prickle. Kayla was in danger.
My heart started to race and I knew I needed to get inside that apartment quickly before things escalated. I tried the knob, but it was locked. Did I dare try to break in or should I just knock and interrupt their fight?
"I just want to check my phone for messages. Hey, the service has been turned off. How long ago did that happen?"
"None of your damn business: that's when. Now give me that damn phone before I fucking take it from you and beat the shit out of you with it."
That was it. I was going in. I heard the sound of Kayla scream out in fear and it gave me the burst of adrenaline I needed to bust in the door. A man with scraggly brown hair and an unshaved face had her gripped by shoulders while she cowered in his grasp, clutching a cell phone in front of her like a protective shield.
I grabbed the jerk by the collar, yanked him back away from her, and punched him square in the jaw. He staggered back, falling flat on his ass, while Kayla screamed out again.
"Ethan! What are you doing here? Mick! Are you all right?"
I realized Mick must be her boyfriend of five years. Somehow, I'd imagined that any man who could win her heart would be much more sophisticated, not the scruffy asshole in front of me. She knelt down to help him, and he shoved her back roughly as he got to his feet and squared off to me.
"Who the hell is this?" Mick asked, and it became clear from the slur of his voice and the stagger of his stance that he was drunk.
"This is the CEO of Speed Motorcycles, Ethan Colson," Kayla explained, looking shocked and bewildered to see me. I realized I'd better explain myself, quick.
"I came to tell you the photoshoot has been moved to Friday. When your phone was off and we couldn't reach you, I wanted to tell you the message personally."
Kayla smiled, looking touched, but Mick saw right through me immediately. With slurred words, he said, "Ha! No rich, company big-shot drives all the way to some model's house to tell her simple message like that. You want her. You came here hoping to fuck her."
Kayla looked at me with such intensity then. In a breathy voice, she whispered, "You could have sent your assistant. Is what Mick's saying true?"
"He's right. I am interested in you. We had such an incredible time together that day I taught you how to ride. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you ever since."
"I have a boyfriend. Mick and I are going to get married. I told you that, and you still came over here hoping that I would..."
She couldn't finish the sentence. She wasn't sure what I wanted, and the truth was neither was I; but Mick didn't have any trouble filling in the blank space.
"He came here to fuck you," he blasted drunkenly. "He wants to use you to get his dick wet. Well, she belongs to me. You want to get with her, you and me need to talk some business. How much is it worth to you?"
I couldn't believe Kayla's boyfriend was offering to prostitute her out to me. Worse than that, I saw from the look on her face that she thought I was considering the offer. She turned on me with a look of pure hatred blazing in her eyes.
"Get out!" she screamed at me as she shoved me hard against the chest with both hands, forcing me out the door. "How dare you come to my home, break in the door, assault my fiancé, and then think you can buy me that way? I am not a whore. I am a professional model. I pose for pictures, but that is the extent to which I sell my body."
"No, it's not like that. I don't think you're a prostitute. I just think you’re beautiful. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you all week. All I do is stare at your portfolio. I've memorized every page of your résumé. When I found out the shoot had been cancelled and I wouldn't get to see you today, all I could think about was coming down here just so I could look at you."
I thought my heartfelt plea would make her understand, but I was shocked how she took it the completely wrong way. In the end, all it did was fuel her anger to even greater intensity.
"What? You're obsessed with me. You're a sicko. A stalker. Get out. Get away fr
om me. Leave me alone. If I see you again, I'll call the police."
With every sentence, she shoved me back with steadily increasing strength, until she had pushed me completely outside her door. Then, she slammed it shut in my face and locked it. Inside I could hear the sounds of her turning to Mick for comfort, so I left.
As I drove slowly through the city streets, I couldn't believe how wrong things had suddenly gone. I had actually thought that she'd be happy to see me, glad to know that the shoot had been rescheduled, and maybe even willing to go out on another ride with me. Now, she hated me. She thought I was a stalker — and maybe I was.
It broke my heart that she was stuck in such a miserable little apartment with such a Neanderthal for a boyfriend. How could she stay with a jerk like that after I swept in and tried to protect her from him before things got ugly? It was obvious he didn't treat her like she deserved to be treated, the way that I would treasure her if she were mine.
Except, I had vowed to be an eternal bachelor. Maybe it was time to change that. All I knew for sure was that this wasn't the end of things with Kayla. I needed to find a way to see her again, to know that she was safe and being taken care of. I needed to know that she was happy and being treated right. She was my obsession, and I had to have her now more than ever.
Chapter Six
Kayla
"You're so lucky you have Mick. I would give anything to have what you two have," my best friend Samantha said to me from her barstool, as yet another loser hit on her with a bad pick-up line.
Her bleached-blonde hair was cut short in a sexy shag highlighted with pink and purple dye to make her stand-out during dance auditions. She was working as an exotic dancer at the bar where Mick sometimes hung out when I was working, but her dream was to become a professional chorus dancer in a play.
It was girls’ night at her favorite bar and I'd agreed to go with her even though I was in a committed relationship so she wouldn't be alone. Besides, after the tough day I had, I really needed to get away from the apartment so I could think and breathe.