Chapter 3
Jack
When Franky came out from her shower later, she was dressed in a pair of low rider jeans that sit so low on the hips that you can see the tops of her beautiful ass cheeks and those sexy dimples just above.
She is wearing a white sweater top that just covers to half way down her belly. “Enjoy your shower?” I couldn’t help but make a crack. “Oh yes, it relieved all my pent up tensions,” she answered with a glib smile.
As a true redhead, she has that pinkish white skin that is as smooth as milk. The way her tits bounce up and down as she walks, it is obvious that she has no bra on.
At 5 foot 6, I would guess that she has a curvy 34D-22-34 figure. Just looking at her firm bare belly is making my dick wiggle. The fact that she is only six years younger than me has my mind churning with lurid possibilities if she were interested in that.
Then it comes back to mind that she is my wife’s daughter. The girl her mother described as a tomboy when she was growing up. Holy shit did this tomboy grow into one very sexy woman.
It was late afternoon when a flatbed truck showed up with her VW Passant and shiny blue Harley. Franky insisted on sitting on the Harley as the man tilted the flat bed to offload the cargo.
Franky had unfastened the chains and just held the brakes while he tilted the flatbed.
When the back edge came to rest, she pressed the start button and drove the bike off the flatbed and into my garage.
She let the man unload the car. Evidently, the Harley is her baby.
I drove her car into the far end of the huge 8 car garage and parked it there.
I gave the man a $50 tip before he secured his truck and left the mansion grounds. When I came into the garage, I found that Franky had found a soft cloth and was wiping down her bike.
“I see you love your bike as much as I do,” I broke the silence and pointed over to my pristine 1996 Yamaha 1100 Virago.
“Oh great. You have a great beginners bike. We can maybe take some rides together,” she told me in a deeply husky tone. Her comment about my bike made my blood boil. “Fuck You,” I bellowed slamming the garage door closed.
She’ll have to bang on the garage door that opens into the kitchen to get back into the house since she does not have a key. She can wait till I’m damn good and ready to open the door for her.
It was twenty minutes later that I heard her knocking on the door. I went to my den where I do my writing and shut the door. I’ll tell her that I couldn’t hear her knocking when I get around to letting her in.