Chapter 6
Nico
I would much prefer to have her sitting next to me in this roomy car, but watching her ride in front of me on her shiny silver and black bike, her shapely thighs straining against her tight jeans as she maneuvers that fine piece of machinery through the morning traffic on the highway, is very good too.
Her jacket is tight enough to show off her curves perfectly and that long platinum blonde braid of hers is something I would very much like to feel tickling my chest as she rides my cock. Just as much as I’d like to see her full, naked breasts bouncing…
That kind of thinking has almost made me lose sight of her a couple of times on this drive, but I just can’t stop doing it. Good thing even a boxy car like this Range Rover is no match for my ability to drive too fast and recklessly in heavy traffic.
We’re out of LA now and the traffic is thinning.
Up ahead she’s riding alone against the backdrop of rolling hills and a clear blue sky and it makes me wish I was riding on a bike beside her.
Side by side on this empty wide road, the wind beating against us, the sun shining down on our backs, alone in the world, with just the backdrop of all this fierce, unchartered land all around us.
Then a massive gas station comes into view, bursting apart that whole lovely vision. She signals that we’re stopping and I follow her onto the ramp, wishing we were still speeding down the open road instead.
She rides past the gas station itself and stops at the start of the long area reserved for big rig parking. Several women wearing next to nothing are weaving their way among the trucks, knocking on windows, plying their offers—their bodies. I hope all of them make it through the day alive.
Bianca takes off her helmet, her long braid dancing with the motion. With her hair loose it would hang down to below her waist, and if she were also naked, she’d look better than Botticelli’s Venus standing in her shell.
“I think you should just turn back,” she says. “I should do this on my own.”
This was the last thing I expected her to say. And possibly the only thing I feared she would say.
“Why, Bianca?”
“And don’t call me Bianca,” she snaps. “My name is Alice.”
I grin at her. “Like Alice in Wonderland? All pretty and lost. But she had help too. And I want to help you.”
She pales, that soft gentleness she hides so well behind her armor of leather and toughness creeping into her eyes.
“No, not like Alice in Wonderland,” she says. “Like the title character in Scorsese’s movie Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Never saw that one. Is it any good?”
She nods. “Very good. But that’s beside the point. You should turn back now. Give me my stuff.”
The sun is actually quite hot today. Not quite summer-like, but scorching nonetheless.
“No,” I say and get a very sharp look from her. It kind of pierces me right through the chest.
“I’m coming with you whether you like it or not,” I add to be clear.
I’m not one to go where I’m not wanted. Or beg women to let me stay with them. But she’s changing so many things I thought I knew about myself that why not this as well?
She bristles at my tone, her eyes turning hard like deep winter ice. “I’m asking you to turn back.”
“And I said no.”
Great, our first argument. Before we even had our first kiss. But so be it.
It’s not much of an argument really, since now we’re just standing here, staring at each other, the sound of traffic from the highway deafeningly loud.
“Look, Bianca… I mean Alice. I don’t think you should go alone to do this, and I don’t think you want to either,” I say when it becomes obvious she won’t say anything and just means to freeze me with her glacial stare.
“I’m just here to help. I won’t get in the way and I’m pretty useful in a fight. As you know.”
I’m alluding to the time I saved her from bleeding out in a dusty warehouse parking lot in the middle of nowhere. And how I pushed her out of the way of a bullet that gazed my arm before grazing the side of her waist and causing all that bleeding.
I’m sure she’s thinking about that day too as her eyes soften.
“But there can’t ever be anything more than friendship between us,” she says quietly. I barely hear her, but the words still cut like a very sharp knife.
“Whatever you say, Alice,” I tell her. “I’ll always be your friend.”
But I’m lying. Not about the friend part, because I will always be her friend. But I want to be so much more. And nothing will stop me from trying to be. Because nothing can.
“So let’s just get back on the road,” I say and grin at her. “What do you say? Friend?”
She looks at me like she thinks I’m lying… or making jokes where I shouldn’t.
But then she nods, puts her helmet back on and gets on her bike.
“Try to keep up,” she says, revs her bike and takes off.
I have to scramble to catch up to her again. But I don’t mind scrambling. I don’t mind following her. And I don’t mind begging for her attention.
I don’t know what all that means. I just know that for the first time in forever, I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. And it feels good.