WILD RIDE (3 page)

“Well, not a damn thing, anymore,” I said.  “I
was
a waitress.  Doesn’t look like I’ll make it to work today, though, does it?  I
kind of made a split-second decision this morning.  I’m headed to Austin to
enroll in college and study my way up the corporate ladder, or something.”  I’d
already decided I would study business, if this little pipedream of mine
actually worked out.  I fantasized that my time, one day, would actually be worth
something.  That my skills would be bigger than whether or not I sloshed flat Budweiser
onto a customer, or how good my ass looked in a pair of Daisy Dukes.

“Good for you,” Riley said.  “Hey, there’s beer in that
cooler down by your feet.  Help yourself, if you want.  And grab me one too,
while you’re at it.  Nate, you want a beer?”

“I have whiskey, too,” I offered, pulling the bottle
out of my bag.  “I, uh, I thought it might come in handy along the way.”  I
felt a little foolish.  If I hadn’t already drunk several fingers of said
whiskey within the past hour, I probably would have felt even more foolish. 
But then again, it was pretty obvious I’d had a bitch of day.  They could
hardly begrudge me for that.

But then Nate said, in his deep molasses drawl, “Pass
it on up.”

I took a long sip of the warm, fiery liquid, then I
reached forward to pass it to Nate.  Riley intercepted it, taking several
swallows, then handed it to his cousin.  I passed two cold beers to Riley,
which he opened then placed in the cup holders between the front seats.  I
opened mine, and drank thirstily.  It might have been the sweetest thing I’d
ever tasted.  Usually, I never drank.  Today was different.  I was twenty-one,
destitute, single and on the road with two exceptionally sexy strangers.  And,
despite the sweet breeze that whirled around my bare shoulders and lightly-tanned
arms, I was hot, sweaty, and dehydrated.  I ended up drinking the whole damn
thing.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” Riley said,
his smile relaxed, subdued.  “Sounds like you’ve had a hell of a day.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.  “And you know what?  Today’s my
birthday.  Some birthday, right?  My boyfriend beats me up and then my car
breaks down.”

Riley’s blue eyes darkened again when I reminded him of
that, but the fire burned low.  I felt that kick-start again when his lips
curled in a lazy smirk as he took another sip of his beer.  Damn, he was
good-looking.  Dazzling.  “Well, darlin’, you’re luck’s just changed, thanks to
me and old Nate here.  We’re gonna put you up in Dallas for the night.  Consider
it a birthday present.”  He sipped from his beer can again, and I watched in
mute fascination, despite myself, as a bead of condensation dripped down his
lightly-stubbled jaw, down the corded curve of his bronzed neck.  “Unless
you’re in a hurry, that is.”

I stared at him.  The alcohol was really starting to
hit my system now, and the effect was pleasurably mellow and spiked with a
languid recklessness.  I felt the sun on my skin.  “No hurry,” I said softly. 
“That’s, uh … awfully nice of you.  But I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“No imposition whatsoever.  We wouldn’t be honorable
Texans if we left a pretty lady like yourself alone and broke on the side of
the road, now, would we?  And especially on your birthday.  Isn’t that right,
Nate?”

Nate took a sip of his beer and didn’t immediately
answer.  His gaze drew back to the rear-view mirror.  I couldn’t see his eyes
through his sunglasses but I could
feel
his contemplation.  Hotly. 
Right there in the most personal place imaginable.  “Sure is,” he finally said. 
I found I liked the sound of Nate’s voice: deep, slightly rasped, unequivocally
masculine.

“Happy birthday,” Riley said, grinning widely.

“I … thank you.  But, are you sure?  I mean, I wouldn’t
want you to –”

“We’re sure,” Riley said.  “We’ll be stopping at a hotel
once we get to Dallas.  Booked it yesterday.  The presidential suite, no less. 
You’ll want your own room, of course.  To wind down.  Or wind up.  Whatever turns
you on.”

Whatever turns you on
. 
I didn’t even want to think about what was turning me on at that exact moment. 
This was one crazy day.  And I had a feeling the extent of it had barely
begun.  “Well, that’s really … so nice.  I don’t know how to thank y’all.”

“No need, darlin’.  Pass me another one of those beers,
would ya?” Riley said, having already chugged his first.  “How old are you,
anyway?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Well, how ‘bout that,” Riley smiled.  “We can serve
you another beer, in that case.  Go on, help yourself.”

The afternoon sun grew hotter, my inhibitions grew
looser and the cowboy-strangers’ appeal only seemed to amplify as the miles
sped by in a vision of quivering, heat-infused expansiveness.  Knowing that I
had a place to stay tonight that would be cool, safe and more luxurious than
anything I’d seen in a long time, or maybe ever, and that I’d be bunking with
the two of
them
– in my own room, of course – did nothing to tone down
my appreciation of their astoundingly good looks.  The dark locks of Nate’s
hair against his bronzed neck.  The light mist of sweat at the base of Riley’s
rosewood-hued throat and the soft-red color of his lips as he smiled.  I felt
these details in that low-burning ache that stirred something deep within me. 
Awakening me.

“So, you’re rid of him for good, then?” Riley asked,
over the thrumming, soulful notes of a Rolling Stones song.  The bass of the
stereo vibrated gently through the car and the hot air of the day and into my
body, so it seemed.  I could feel each pluck in every erogenous zone I
possessed.

I was lounging against the padded door of the car
behind Nate.  I’d taken off my sandals and propped my feet up on my bag, which
sat against the far door.  My hat was low on my forehead as I sipped my second
beer.  “Oh, my ex-boyfriend you mean?  Yeah, for good.  It was already over
anyway.  The money, the fight, those were just the last straws.  We … well,
we’d been drifting apart for a long time.”

After a brief silence, Riley said, “You won’t miss
him?”

I thought of Cal.  His grease-monkey fashion sense and
his headed-nowhere lifestyle.  We’d shared a few good times long ago but
somehow the easiness he’d once promised me had gotten harder, little by little,
when I wasn’t looking and where I least expected it.  “No,” I assured him.  “There’s
absolutely nothing I will miss about him.”

Riley was watching me.  He was playful, and there was a
deeply masculine willfulness about him.  He paused before asking slyly, “Nothin’
at
all
?”

“Nope,” I confirmed, closing my eyes, relaxed. 
“Nothing.”

Riley exhaled a soft laugh.  “Plenty of that to be
found elsewhere, I guess.”

My eyes were still closed.  “Plenty of what?”

Another deep, gentle huff of laughter at the question. 
I opened my eyes, assessing his grin.

“Plenty of what?” I repeated, not getting his meaning.

“Plenty of
sex
,” he said matter-of-factly, his
blue eyes glinting in the sunlight.

The statement struck me, for several reasons.  First,
because sex with Cal was not something I would miss.  I was practically
overjoyed, in fact, that all that avoidance and annoyance was a thing of the
past.  Right then and there I realized more than ever before that being this
relieved
by the thought that I would never have to feel his sweaty hands on my body, or
wish that he would just roll over or finish up so I could go to sleep or wash
my hair or whatever it was I wanted to get on with … well, that I probably
should have left him a long time ago.  Come to think of it, I probably
shouldn’t ever have been with him in the first place.

Second, Riley’s statement struck me because it was a
very personal thing to say. 
Too
personal, really.  The strange thing
was, I didn’t mind.  His blue-sky eyes and his crooked smile as he watched my
reaction were having a strange effect on me, causing my
very
intimate
places to warm, and soften.  Likewise the grip of Nate’s strong hands on the
steering wheel as he shot his cousin a mildly-amused glance.

And Riley continued.  “He must’ve been a dud in the
sack.”

I could have been offended, or riled.  I was neither,
and I felt light-hearted, inexplicably.  There was an unwarranted tranquillity
to my mood, and a quiet fever.

I didn’t want to admit it to these super-hot Texans, but
I knew myself to be lacking of a certain … ability.  At first it had frustrated
me.  But I’d read in Cosmo that some women just can’t reach orgasm all that
often.  It hadn’t said
or at all
, but I’d let it slide.  There were
bills to pay and money to save, and I’d convinced myself that some things just
aren’t as important.  “Well, I don’t have any basis for comparison, so I don’t
really know … ”  I let the admission drift, not bothering to go into detail on
that particular subject.  I didn’t want to think about the lack of
satisfaction, or my own shortcomings.  All I wanted to do was
feel
.  And
to listen to the husky wail of a young Mick Jagger and the tinny melody of
Keith Richards’s guitar as it caressed the rugged landscape.

Riley didn’t reply for a time, and the notes of the
tune hazed through the air along with the heat and the possibilities.  “He was
your first boyfriend?” he asked.

“Yeah.  My first.  My
only
… so far.”  But I
didn’t elaborate.  The implications were clear enough.

“Interesting,” Riley said, now assessing me carefully
and taking another liberal swig of the whiskey.

We drove in silence for another few miles. 

“I have a theory,” Riley finally said.  He readjusted
his hat and grinned mischievously.  His hair, as he lifted his hat, caught the
golden light of the afternoon in a halo-like shine.  He pulled his t-shirt off,
disheveling his hair further, before placing his hat back on his head.  I was
temporarily riveted by the sultry lines of his olive-skinned shoulders.  He
wasn’t as brawny as Nate – very few men were - but he was nicely-proportioned:
naturally strong-looking with graceful bones and textbook-perfect abs.

I smiled, finding it extraordinarily easy to humor him. 
“Oh?  What’s your theory?”

“If you ‘don’t know’ if he was good in bed or not, then
my guess is he wasn’t.”  Riley might have been as lucid and loose as I felt.  He
took another sip and passed the bottle to me.  “My guess is you’ve never had a
proper orgasm.”

Nate chuckled at this, the sound ruffling me.  The low,
lush velvet of his laugh deepened that Texas heat.  “Calm down, Riley,” he
said.  “Jesus.”

Riley winked at me.  “Are you wishin’ you’d hitched a
ride with Ol’ Pontiac instead?”

“Hardly,” I said quickly, not wanting to think about
Ol’ Pontiac, Cal, or anything beyond the moment.  “And to answer your question,
yes … I’m pretty sure I have.  I … I’m almost
positive
I have.”

Riley laughed lightly.  “No.  No way.”

“’No way’ what?” I said, shifting in my seat, which
caused the hem of my dress to ride higher up my thighs.

“You haven’t,” Riley said smugly.  “You can’t
not
be sure if you’ve ever had an orgasm or not.  If you’d had one, you’d know it.”

I’d long suspected he might be right.  But I didn’t
answer him right away.  If it hadn’t been for the liquid courage, I might not
have asked it.  “How do you know that?”

“Trust me.  You’d know.”

I couldn’t help it.  I was too curious.  “Nate, do you
think he’s right?”

“Yeah.”  A note of his amusement hung on.  “Absolutely.”

In fact it wasn’t the first time this realization had
crossed my mind over the past two years.  I’d done a fair bit of stewing over
the matter, truth be told.  I’d even bought a vibrator at one point, but
there’d been something so …
plastic
about it that had made the whole
thing seem far too clinical.  I didn’t want my first orgasm to be
manufactured.  Call me a romantic, but the dreamer in me hoped that a red-blooded
man
might do me the honors.  In the end, I’d thrown it out before Cal
stumbled across it.

Sure, it seemed unfair, that I’d missed out in this way. 
Of course I’d suspected it all along: that I was a frigid ice maiden or that I lacked
some vital element of sexuality that other women were born with.  But to have
it
confirmed
like this, all out in the open, by these two ultra-hot specimens
of virility who’d probably had thousands of orgasms, it spurred a defiant
little gleam in my soul.  Or, more specifically, right between my legs.  I was
growing wet just talking about this.  Their presence and now their conversation
was having its wicked way with me, like they were feeding me hot, liquid lust
along with the ice-cold beer.  My dress rose higher, until my white panties
were barely visible.  I was buzzed enough not to care about this.  “Well, I
think you’re wrong,” I said.  “Both of you.”

I wasn’t sure why I was feeling contrary over the whole
topic.  Probably because I was indulging in a private little pity party.  If
music videos or glossy magazines or every second movie was anything to go by,
the entire human race was enjoying back-to-back stellar climaxes while I
couldn’t manage to get off to save my pathetic life.