They put on boots and helmets. No, it wasn't a huge motorcycle, but it had all the freedom and badassery of any cycle.

Not too long a ride, just a tour around the hot city....tank tops under the leather, to be able to get cool wherever they stopped.

A stop to add a sixpack to the saddlebags.....

The rush, the combination of the power between their legs, the wind, her breasts against his back......

A little later, a crowded, slightly dive-y bar, a not-very-good band
playing too loudly in one corner, but they are not even making a pretence
that dancing is where their attention is. The music is fast, but they are
hiding in the darkest corner, not really dancing so much as grinding
Eyes on each other, attention on each others' bodies
oblivious to everyone else, the envious glances.............

The men's eyes on her, the girls eyes on him
The breaking of taboos.....why, see that streak of white,
look at her hair
And he's so young
out loud they disapprove
But the men envy his youth, her obvious passion
The women envy her freedom, his beauty and attention

sharks grin breaking across both faces sometimes
Enjoying the slowness the longing the heightened senses

Wanting, but knowing, that anticipation, the torturous
waiting
is part of the fun......

Back on the back of the motorcycle, that rumbling, rush of speed
bodies fused together, leaning into turns

Her body is on fire
after the dancing
in the dark corner.

His fire rises more slowly
But it is burning at his center, still
he's so aware of her
form up against him
Now the softness he
feels against his back
is so much more of a distraction, softness of her breasts
the prominence of pubic bone

He knows a quiet outdoor spot
where they could go.
Changes his mind, about the destination
Althought they both know, what
the actual destination is,
the final place
where they are really heading.

The motor ceases. Silence.
The warm darkness and delta breeze
close around them....
He takes her hand
as their eyes adjust, he
leads her down toward the spot he knows....

To find some other lovers there
Full on in rut
They both back away
laughing quietly
it must be something in the air
hot, sultry, humid, full of nighttime scents
and pheremones, that's making everyone hunger.
They go around, at least to see
the view, the silent roll of the river
going by.

Finally back
on the screened porch
he brings a drink
a glass of wine
so sticky the air
Especially for her, she's come
from coolness to this heat.
Sweat beading
on the glass
and on her neck
the hair is matted, prickles
she reaches up to lift it off her nape, eyes closed
and feels the
glass against her collarbone

The shocking cold
and a hand touching her breast
brought to prominence
by the gesture

She holds the pose, eyes
still closed
the touch so gentle...yet so much urgency
transmitted by it

Without opening her eyes she reaches down
slowly sliding the silk upward
so his hand touches skin
without even that
flimsy barrier

The glass moves to her
mouth, she takes a sip
expecting wine
but it is whiskey
raw and burning down her throat.
She takes the glass
and moves the other hand.

Another sip of whiskey
two hands, a little
firmer now
she pulls his head in toward her
to her mouth
letting the whiskey
run into his taste
the shared burn
mingling on their
touching tongues.

He leans in, tongues
still touching
and again, she feels
the full length of him, as she did
on the dance floor
but now with the pressure
of his weight
behind it.

Tempo changes....
kissing hard
with hands exploring
they have a mind
all of their own
suddenly the restriction
of their clothes is
much too much -

Impatient tugging
at each other's clothes
they fall away unheeded
nakedness the length
of skin
contact

The delta breeze
still washes over us.

I wrote these stanzas
in my head
Imagining what might happen
next
I want to write
the next one
with your help

and of motorcycle,
dive bar, beer and
whisky, raw
thumping blues or jazz
that hot, hot summer night
but mostly you

Will you help me
write the next?

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