Leather and Lace (part two)
The distinctive sound of a throbbing motorcycle engine began to fill the room. Janet clanked at the clock and, deciding that she had more than enough time before her company arrived to finish, moved quickly to the window. She had always been fascinated by motorcycles … and their riders. 'Modern-day cowboys, the lot of them!' a college roommate had once remarked, and Janet had whole-heartedly agreed. The souped-up 'crotch-rockets' were mere ponies – but the big bikes, the Harleys and the Goldwings, now they were the wild stallions of old. The inherent power surging in the body you straddled, the sense that your beast of burden was just biding its time with a mind of its own; recognising and respecting the omnipresent danger, living on the edge … yeah, she had a definite thing for motorcycles. Sexy as all hell. The throbbing increased in volume as she stared at the corner of her street, willing the bike to not just shoot past on the side street. Her wishes were answered as the revving of the engine lowered slightly in intensity – the rider was down-shifting for the turn! Janet was not disappointed as the bike swung gracefully around the corner. It was a low-slung Indian, complete with shiny chrome pipes and an ox-blood red tank. A Harley of pure class and power; absolutely gorgeous. As the throbbing of the engine changed timbre again, Janet realised the bike appearing to continue to downshift wasn't a figment of her desirous imagination – he was actually slowing down. Janet's mouth ran dry as the beauty purred to a stop in front of her house. What gorgeous luck! She wondered who the lucky gal was who would be getting this cowboy visitor tonight, mildly envious. Not that she didn't have a good evening in the works, speaking of company … she glanced down at her driveway. Yep, still clear for Sam to drive in, when she arrived. Janet refocused her attention on the bike now parked casually in front of her house. A movement caught her eye – the rider was disembarking the now quiet Harley. She began to appraise the still helmet-clad rider. Obviously excellent taste, and more than a little strength required to properly handle that Indian. He looked tall and, judging from the skin-tight blue jeans, on the slim side. His feet were clad in black cowboy boots – a classy touch – and his upper body was covered in the other reason Janet loved big bikes – the omnipresent black leather jacket. There was something about leather that made Janet go weak. The look, the feel, the smell … the quiet assertiveness … the rider bent over to open the saddle bag and as Janet took in the very well-defined butt encased in that leaves-not-much-to-the-imagination denim the view now presented, she realised that her mouth was no longer dry.
'My word!' she thought to herself, enviously. 'Some gal's getting plum lucky tonight!' She whistled to herself and shook her head, which brought the digital display on her bedside table into her line of vision – ack! Sam was due to arrive any minute, and here was Janet, ogling some lusty guy on a sweet ride outside her window instead of finishing getting ready for her company! She dashed over to her ensuite with the hope that Sam might be running a tad late.
Less than two minutes passed before Janet heard knocking on the door.
'Sam must have pulled up right after I left the window,' she mused to herself as she rushed down the staircase, loathe to leave her friend waiting longer than necessary. Janet opened the door with an automatic "Hi Sam" that died as soon as her eyes caught up with her mouth. Sam stood at the door, tousling out her short blonde hair. Black cowboy boots poked out from under very snug light denim jeans, which sat below a slightly worn black leather jacket, opened to reveal a white lacy top.
"Hey Janet! Sorry," Sam paused to shake out her hair, "helmet head!" She grinned and leaned in for a hug. Janet looked over Sam's shoulder, desperately praying that this was a coincidence, that there was a car in the driveway, that her new friend just happened to be wearing similar clothes to the mystery man on the gorgeous bike currently cooling in front of her lawn … A quick glance confirmed her fears. Janet had unwittingly been lusting after Sam. She could feel her face begin to burn as Sam hugged her tightly.
'Strong arms…' the though rose unbidden in Janet's mind as Sam began to pull away. As she shifted, Janet's olfactory senses kicked in. As the scent of worn leather mingled with something slightly floral, Sam stopped her backward motion, arms down at Janet's waist.
"Janet," she began carefully, "are you okay?"
"Mmmm?" Janet started, dropping her arms onto Sam's. Sam chuckled.
"You just seem a bit … flushed? Distracted – are you feeling all right?" she asked a tad more pointedly. "We don't have to do the barbecue tonight if you're not up to it…"
"Um … oh! No, I, uh, no – I'm fine, Sam. I was just admiring your …" her mind fired rapid images at her – which object was the likely to weird out Sam the least? The bike, the jacket, the fragrance, the upper-body strength, the very nice butt … nope, definitely getting worse instead of better! "…jacket." She finished somewhat lamely. Sam looked at her with eyebrows raised.
"I have a thing for leather," Janet shrugged, attempting nonchalance. Sam's grin got noticeably wider as her eyebrows raced to her hairline.
"Really?" she asked, seemingly innocently. Janet turned even more red in reply.