“Want a lift?”
said a sweet sexy voice.
“Sure” I said.
I swung my leg over
I don’t mind riding bitch
I slid my fingers
over her perfect hips
and joined them
over her warm, toned abs.
We rode beside the ocean
then stopped to watch the sunset.
Removed our boots
to feel the foaming waves
lapping at our bare feet.
I grasped her hair.
Her red expectant lips
The rest of her body
I was standing in line at the liquor store lying to myself, I need this fifth of J.D. for the sore throat that I think may be coming on. In front of me was a woman with long, shapely legs. I paid for my purchase and was heading for the exit. There she was again, red lips, sun glasses and red hair. I recognized her from somewhere, college maybe. I think she was someone’s baby sister.
She said, “Dave, would you like a lift somewhere” My response was “Sure, your name’s Ivy, isn’t it? Which direction are you headed?”
She lowered her sunglasses, winked and replied, “Which direction do you want to go?’ Okay, I thought, this seems interesting. We walked to the parking lot, she headed to a Harley Davidson Electra glide. “You ride this?” I asked.
“Yes, haven’t you ridden a bike before?”
“Well, yes I have, but never as a passenger.
She mounted the driver’s seat, bent to flip down the passenger footboards and said, “Hop on.”
I swung my leg over, and thought I don’t mind riding bitch.
“Where do I hang on?” I asked.
“Well, there are passenger handles, or you can hang onto me.” She pulled on her riding gloves and as she reached forward to the hand grips her tee rode up her back exposing delectable flesh and the top of a black thong. I slid my fingers over her perfect hips and joined them on her warm and muscular abs. I thought This is a ride I’m going to enjoy.
She gunned the engine and we were off. We headed to the Pacific Coast Highway along the ocean, stopped to walk along the beach, the foaming waves lapping at our bare feet. We listened to seagulls swooping in, watched the tide and sunset. I took her hand, It seemed natural and warm. The rest is erotic memory.
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Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People