What happens next in “Lola-land” is anybody’s guess.
“If Whiskey keeps this up, he’ll have my heart, that bastard.”
Those were the words I texted Jez after my date with Whiskey last night.
I’ve lost track of how many dates we’ve had, but it’s somewhere close to ten, I guess. The sex is already pretty close to perfect, which is pretty damn surprising given we’ve only done the dirty three times now.
He has an uncanny knack for knowing his way around my body, and he’s an absolute stallion in the sack. Actual fucking time has tripled with him over my other lovers, which gives me a chance to keep my heart rate up and move every muscle in my body for over an hour. This will decrease my elliptical time considerably. Ha ha.
As I mentioned in a previous post, Whiskey has a Harley. So last night he talked me into taking it for a spin to a highly recommended waterfront pub and I figured there was no time like the present to figure out if I could ride.
I met him at his house where he was out front waiting for my arrival, and prepping the bike for our little journey. I got out of my car and strutted my stuff over to where he was standing in my torn up blue jeans, black lace up riding boots and a black leather jacket. He let out a low whistle as he gazed at me with obvious appreciation. “Allright now Momma, you look like a real biker babe.”
“You know it.” I said confidently. “I’m not playing around. Let’s do this!”
After a short safety briefing (which I thoroughly appreciated) we hopped on the bike and were on our way out of dodge.
Now this is not just any motorcycle. It’s one of those “luxury models” with a nice seat on the back for me to fully relax in. With speakers all around, the tunes were cranked and the weather was absolutely gorgeous. When he took off, I felt all my troubles fall behind. It was just me, Whiskey and the open road. I felt free.
We rode for about 45 minutes before we stopped at our dinner destination along the water. It was a cute little beachfront cottage pub, with friendly locals and wonderful food.
After dinner we got back on and rode the sunset road back to his house where he asked if I wanted to come in. Wanting to see where we landed on sex by now, I agreed. We sat on his couch for a few minutes and talked before I reached up and started to kiss him.
He stood up, taking me by the hand and huskily muttered, “C’mere,” as he led me out of the living room.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked flirtatiously.
“To the love cave,” he jokingly replied. “But seriously, I want to brush my teeth.”
Once inside his cozy bedroom I threw myself back onto his luxurious king size bed as he disappeared into the bathroom. “Wanna brush your teeth too?” He called casually from the bathroom. “I have an extra toothbrush if so.”
Never one to turn down a chance at good hygiene, I rousted from my perch against his pillows. “Okay, sure.” And there we stood, side by side at his sink, brushing our teeth. Lol. It sounds both funny and cute now as I recollect the moment. After I finished, I walked back into his bedroom and he called, “I’ll put your toothbrush in the second drawer, and it’ll be there whenever you need it.” I felt like his gesture was weirdly “couplish,” and courteous at the same time. I decided to not worry about what it meant.
After nearly 2 hours of lovemaking, he finally decided to allow a climax for himself, and we laid there drenched in sweat on his bed. I was suddenly feeling like I needed to bolt. The combination of feeling confused by my own feelings and him stroking my shoulder and kissing my forehead was overpowering and I wanted to escape to think.
I forced myself to lie there for literally 5 or 6 minutes before I sprang to my feet and said, “Well, I think I’m gonna get going.”
Beyond one raised eyebrow, Whiskey didn’t move a muscle. “Really? Leaving already huh? Not even gonna stay and cuddle with me for a little longer?”
Immediately guilt-stricken, I rested back on my elbows and awkwardly said, “I can, if you want.”
“No, no. That’s fine. Just use me for sex and leave. I see how it is.”
I saw a glint in his eyes as he spoke and figured he was largely just giving me a hard time, so I decided to laugh it off and simply be myself.
He joined me in getting dressed completely, got me a bottle of water for the road, kissed me, hugged me tightly, and walked me all the way to my car and even waited on the sidewalk before I drove away.
That man is a true gentleman, and a rare breed, I thought, not surprised to see him in my rearview mirror still standing on the sidewalk as I drove off into the night.
And he’s set his sights on me. And you know what? I’m glad. I hope he wins. I hope we make it.
I’m just along for the ride.