It's been one of those days. After being at work all morning, then driving a couple of hours to your appointment, you had originally planned on meeting with the client for only about an hour, but their constant indecisiveness and wanting to have things their way, and their way only, has turned your one hour meeting into an all afternoon event. Your high level of professionalism and business ethics prevents you from just wanting to say "fuck it" and walking away, especially since you drove over 2 hours to meet with them. You tolerate their indecisive behavior and pain in the ass nature as you know this business opportunity will open more doors in the community and allow for more business to come your way.
After finally advising the client of your long commute home, and telling them to make a final decision and FAX it to your office, you eventually manage to get out on the road. Looking at your watch, you sigh loudly as you think about the long drive ahead of you. Since you have been up for almost 16 hours already, your first thought is of stopping for a cup of coffee for that familiar caffeine jolt, but think twice when you remember your last late night coffee experience...wide awake until almost 4 in the morning unable to sleep with several early morning appointments set for the next day. Nope, this time you will have to find other means of keeping yourself awake.
With 30 minutes of your over 2 hours drive complete, you feel the onset of the sleepiness begin. Turning up the volume of your radio, you open the two front windows and feel the rush of cool evening air blowing inside your truck and hear the constant whirring loudness of your tires on the road surface. It only takes a few minutes before you opt to close the windows most of the way to tone down the tire noise but still leave the volume up for the audio stimulation. You eventually find yourself humming along with some of the tunes on the radio, the classic rock tunes of The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Journey, Boston...songs that actually mean something to you.
The music only keeps your mind fully alert for another 10 minutes or so before you feel the effects of sleepiness creeping up on you again. Remembering there is a rest stop a short distance ahead, you decide to stop in and take a short nap, just enough to get you the small amount of sleep you need to make it the rest of the way home. Seeing the road sign for the rest stop 10 miles out, you let out a loud sigh of relief. This day has been very trying, to say the least. A couple of miles past the rest stop sign, you see some orange hazard signals flashing on the side of the road. Seeing how close together they are, you immediately recognize them as being on a motorcycle. Slowing down for safety reasons, you see the outline of a person leaning against the motorcycle, and to your surprise, the outline belongs to a tall and seemingly voluptuous woman.
With darkness looming, you quickly decide to pull over and see if you can be of any assistance. Coming to a stop you have to slowly back up on the shoulder, the tires loudly vibrating the truck on the deep rumble strips. As you near the woman and motorcycle, you see her stand up and turn to face your direction. As she does so, you see her silhouette more clearly, her long flowing blonde hair, her obviously well developed chest and long legs. You grin to yourself as you admire her appearance for a couple of seconds before putting your truck into park and getting out.
I take a moment to admire your shiny red Chevy Dually, and watch you carefully as you exit your truck. I smile to myself as I see you walking towards me, and as much as I appreciate you stopping to hopefully help me in my moment of need, I am still wary as I study you. As you get within a few feet, I am immediately attracted to your tall stature, your broad chest and strong arms, your short dirty blonde hair, moustache and beard, and your incredibly alluring blue eyes. I have always been very attracted to men taller than me, because I am so tall, and I am guestimating you to be at least 6', maybe 6'1". I can't help but think to myself how lucky I am to have such a handsome man stop instead of someone who would usually not even rate a second glance.
You stop a few feet away from me, my Harley in between us, "Are you OK?" you ask with a friendly smile.
"Well, I was," I reply.
You immediately notice my English accent and a big smile creeps over your face.
"I am not quite sure what happened. One minute she was running like a dream, the next minute she is coughing and sputtering. There's plenty of gas in her tank, so I don't know what she's thinking." Being a bit cautious and I step back a little, one hand casually moving behind me, ready to pull out my concealed weapon if need be. My eyes move up and down your body, admiring your tall and muscular physique, carefully scrutinizing you, and in particular looking for any other identifiable features. Call me paranoid, but I have always been a little overly cautious, especially when I am out riding my Harley by myself.
"Maybe I can take a look," you answer as you give me the once over...again.
I tilt my head and smile back at you, running my fingers through my hair. "Thanks...that'd be great."
"Yeah, I know a thing or two about engines...hopefully it will be an easy fix and you can get back on and get to where you're going," you say as you bend down next to the bike, looking over your shoulder at me. As you turn your attention to the bike's motor, you move your hand near it with your fingers extended and slightly separated, checking to see how hot the engine block is. I can't help but notice that you have very large and strong hands, and with my attraction to you already, I have to make a conscious effort not to imagine them on me, moving all over my body. You take a few seconds gauging how hot the block is before you turn your head and look at me over your shoulder. "This thing is almost completely cold. Just how long have you been out stuck out here?"
"Oh heck, I don't know...about 20 minutes or so? Could be more..." I reply shrugging my shoulders.
"And no one bothered to stop to see if they could help?" you ask with a disbelieving tone.
"Nope...no one stopped. Had plenty of vehicles drive by...even had a few semis honk their horns at me...but that's about it."
"Damn...I find that hard to believe," you say as you shake your head in disbelief. "Do I detect an English accent?"
"Yes...you do indeed," I reply. You take a few seconds to look at me, smiling and taking in as much of me as you can. I feel a wave of nervousness sweep over me as you study me...my almost 5'10" height, my near waist length hair, my black jeans and black leather jacket. You grin at me as your eyes land on my large breasts, somewhat concealed by my leather jacket before you turn your attention back to the bike and begin diagnosing what the problem may be. I stand back and watch as you move around the bike, taking your time carefully checking the wiring, trying a to restart it, doing your best to figure out what's wrong with only checking a few of the more simple and quick fix measures. After several minutes, you stand up and turn your attention to me. "I think I have an idea on what's wrong, but with it getting dark there's no way I can fix it out here without my tools."
"Great...just what I need," I mumble sarcastically. I pull my cell phone out my pocket and check for a signal. "Damn it...no signal out here either."
"No, not out here. But if you want, we can load it into the back of my truck and I can take you to the next town, of where ever it is you are going, if it's on my way. At least you won't be out here in the middle of nowhere in the dark...and you won't have to leave your bike out here either," you say with a kind smile.
"Oh that's so good of you....I mean, if it's not too much trouble..." I reply moving closer to you and resting my hand on your arm, "I would really appreciate it."
You look down at my hand on your arm, "It's no trouble at all. It would be my pleasure," you say as you look into my eyes. Both of us give each other a smile with a brief moment of shyness and mutual arousal. "I am sure we can get this thing loaded and then be on our way." I watch as you open the tailgate of your truck, and move a couple of things around making room for the bike. I position the bike behind your truck, and wait for you. "No offense, but this would be a lot easier if you were a guy," you say with a chuckle.
I rest my hands on my hips, and tilt my head, "No kidding," I reply with a slightly sarcastic tone. Thinking about my comment and tone of voice, I realize how it just sounded. "I'm sorry...that was out of line. I am just frustrated at this damn thing..."
"It's OK...no problem. I would be frustrated too," you respond reaching towards me and squeezing my hand. We position ourselves to grab ahold of the front end, and just as we do so, a semi truck slowly passes us and then pulls over. "Looks like we have some help," you say with a smile as you peer around your truck and see the driver exiting the cab and jogging back towards us.
"Cool...I didn't feel like trying to lift this thing," I chuckle.
"And you shouldn't have to," you answer as you wink at me.
"Can I help you guys with this?" the truck driver asks as he rounds the end of your pickup. I quickly assess his physique, which is much like yours, and I immediately imagine the both of you lifting my Harley into your truck with relative ease. Mmmmm, broad shoulders, well defined arms and thick muscular chests. I am very quickly brought back to my senses when I hear you answer him.
"Yeah, that'll be great. This young lady's bike quit on her, and we need to get it and her back to town," you say as you motion towards me.
The truck driver looks me over with a huge grin on his face, "Yeah no kidding...definitely not a place for a lady out by herself...this road can be a bit dangerous sometimes." His words make me take a couple of steps away and again I position my hand behind me. He turns his attention back to you and my Harley, and grabs the handle bars, "OK, let's do this."
"Hold on just a sec," I say as I move in front of you so I can climb into the bed of the truck to guide the bike in. As I lean forward and pull myself up and into the bed of your truck, you both watch me initially checking out my ass as I bend forward, but then you see my jacket slide upwards above my waist exposing the handle of my handgun to the both of you. As I turn to face you, I can tell you are both surprised at what you see. Without saying a word, you glance at each other and then lift the front end of the bike into the truck. I guide it in straight as you and the truck driver muscle the rear of the bike up into the bed. I know the bike is heavy, and this is one time that I am glad I only have the 883. Anything much larger would be a lot more difficult to load into the truck without a ramp.
