I’ve been fascinated by motorcycles since my seventeen-year-old crush rumbled into my parents’ driveway on his Harley and revved his engine while I rushed out the door to meet him.
It was late afternoon in July, three months before my fifteenth birthday, when Bobby decided he wanted me to be his girl. He sat on the black leather seat of his bike with his legs splayed, looking like a young god in his tight blue jeans and torn tee shirt when he arrived for our first date. His long brown hair lifted and tousled in the summer breeze, and his muscles flexed beneath tanned skin as he gripped the handlebars. Big brown eyes under long dark lashes flashed as I sauntered over to meet him in my hiphugger jeans and cropped top. He smiled a crooked, sexy grin and the inside of my mouth went dry.
That’s as close as I ever got to riding on the back of his motorcycle.
My father nearly had a stroke when this too-old-for-me boy pulled up in front of our house. He followed me out the front door and told the boy I couldn’t go on our date. I swallowed my humiliation and took Bobby to my best friend’s house around the corner to hang out with her and our other friends. I walked all the way, trying to act nonchalant while he rode at a snail’s pace beside me, looking cool, but slightly bored.
My best friend was sixteen, curvy compared to my adolescent frame, and knew how to inhale menthol cigarettes. In no time at all, she hopped on the rear of my boyfriend’s bike and they hauled ass out of the neighborhood, leaving me behind with a broken heart. I walked home, dejected and royally pissed, more over losing my chance to sneak a ride on the back of a Harley than about losing the boy. For a clear-skinned teenage girl with big eyes and hair down to there, boys were a dime a dozen. But finding a boy who owned a Harley-Davidson motorcycle? That was something else, entirely.
Time passed before I took my first motorcycle ride, and I’ve never forgotten that feeling of elation when the throttle opened and we seemed to fly. Though I never bought a Harley of my own, I did buy a ragtop convertible, which is my pride and joy. I love the sensation of the wind whisking my body and whispering through my hair while I cruise down a highway.
Sometimes, at a traffic light, when I pull up next to a Harley in my convertible, the rider and I will nod to each other or smile. We both know we’re about as close to freedom on the road as we’ll ever find.
REV ME TWICE by Adele Dubois
Coming Soon from Ellora’s Cave!
Crystal is a bad, bad girl in the most delicious ways. She tries to be good and is
tempted to commit to her Navy MP boyfriend, Tomas, but has no experience with an exclusive relationship or healthy family structure. She likes her life as a cable TV stripping weather girl and sex party host, and resists conforming to the traditional lifestyle Tomas craves. Without her weekly ménages and wild orgies, can she become the partner Tomas wants?
When Crystal receives mail threats, a media frenzy erupts. During a break-in the letters are stolen, erasing evidence that thwarts an arrest. Tomas sports Crystal away on his Harley to protect her from attack, but a deadly crash changes everything. Faced with the choice between self-interest and self-sacrifice, Crystal must decide if she will embrace a new life with Tomas or walk away.