The throaty grumble of the bike echoed off the brick walls of the bar as he pulled into the near empty parking lot. It appeared that the late hour and the earlier rain had chased all but the most faithful patrons back to their homes. Home was where he should be also but after a particularly rough work day all he wanted was to wash away his troubles in an ice cold beer.
Parking next to a cherry red Trans Am, he cut the bike’s engine, dropped the kickstand and dismounted. The leather of his jacket creaked as he paused to stretch out the weary muscles in his back before going into the bar.
Maybe a dozen patrons, mostly regulars who interrupted their drinking long enough to wave a greeting, sat in scattered groups around the cozy interior. The bartender reached down to get his beer and had it waiting for him on the long bar.
Seated on a stool at the end of the bar was a woman he had never seen in this bar before. Waves of ebony hair drifted across her bare shoulders and down to the middle of her back. Dark, smoky eyes over a rich, sultry mouth gave her an exotic look and he idly wondered where she was from. With long, tanned legs that disappeared into a red dress so tight he was surprised she could breath and so short all of her charms would be exposed if she moved, she sat watching his reflection in the grimy mirror behind the bar.
In a black leather jacket and snug fitting blue jeans, he looked slightly out of place in an uptown bar on a Thursday night. His brown hair was slightly longer than what was considered fashionable and curled over the collar of his denim shirt. The scent of night wind and faint musky aftershave completed the aura of the tall, dark stranger.
All in all, he was far more interesting than the other customers and when their eyes met in the reflection, she smiled. Putting down her drink, she uncrossed her long legs and walked over to the battered juke box in the corner. She could feel his eyes on her as she made her selection and, as the sounds of an old Righteous Brothers tune began its melody, she walked up to him and held out her hand. Her voice was soft and suggestive. “Dance with me.”
He looked at her, a crooked smile touching his lips. Dancing with her had not been the first thing to enter his mind but he was not about to pass up the opportunity to hold this beautiful woman in his arms. Taking her hand, he led he onto the wooden floor and pulled her gently to him. The first thing he noticed as they began to dance was the clean, sweet fragrance of her hair and warm smooth feel of her skin. With their bodies swaying to the music, he could feel the soft mounds of her breasts graze against his chest and the firm pressure of her hips close to his. He could feel his cock stir as his hand moved boldly down the silky material of her dress from her back to rest on her ass, knowing she wore nothing underneath. As the song ended, she looked up at him and lightly licked her red pouting lips then asked. “Show me your motorcycle?”
Taking her hand again, pausing only long enough to retrieve her purse from the bar, they walked out into the still night. The asphalt was still wet and the moon cast shimmering reflections in the puddles left behind by the rain. The only sounds were the occasional car on the distant highway and the clicking of her high heels. As they walked through the dark parking lot to his bike, she tossed her long hair back and breathed deep the moist air. In the dim light, her red dress appeared painted onto the full curves of her breasts and he ached to reach out and caress them.
She walked up to the bike and bent slightly to run her fingers over the supple leather seat as if it were the taut skin of a lover. The hem of her dress lifted ever so slightly, but from where he stood, he clearly see the creamy flesh of her ass and upper thighs.
