Page 10 of Baby Girl

“It’s sure nice outside,” she said as she sat down.

“Yes, it is,” I responded as I sat back into my stool.

I leaned across the table, and motioned with my finger for her to come closer. As I did, she leaned toward me. I moved her hair away from her ear, and spoke softly, my lips almost touching her ear.

“Kelli, who is going to own you?” I asked.

“You are,” she whispered back, without moving.

“Kelli, when I ask you to do something, something sexual, what will you do?” I whispered into her ear.

“Do it,” she responded, quickly and quietly.

“Kelli, will you ever disappoint me?”

“No. Never.”

She leaned away from me and looked up like I had asked her to murder someone.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“I’m just asking, Kelli. Do not ever intentionally disappoint me, do you understand me?”

“Yes. Yes, sir.”

“I like that.”

“Like what?” she asked, smiling. “That I won’t disappoint you?”

“No, Kelli. The ‘sir’,” I responded, still leaning in her direction.

“Oh. I love saying that to you. It just comes out. Kind of natural,” she said. “I said it the other day at the dealership, as you were leaving. It just kind of slipped out.”

“I didn’t even notice,” I lied.

“Kelli, I am going to crawl inside your head. Are you ready?”

“Yes. Yes, sir. I am,” she said as she leaned her stool back, rocking it on its rear legs.

Her tone of voice, her body language, and her eye movements made it obvious that she was extremely comfortable with this situation, with me, and with the rate that this was progressing. There was something about her that I liked. Something more than the excitement of this being new. I was in tune with my feelings well enough to know this, something with her was different. Time would tell me what it was.

“Okay, Kelli. Listen, I have a commitment this morning. I have to ride in a fundraiser. A girl has cancer. The motorcycle club I ride with is doing a poker run to raise money for her family. I have to go do this. What are your thoughts on you and I doing something tonight. Say, hanging out, maybe going out and eating?” I asked from across the table.

Continuing to rock back and forth in her chair, she sat the legs onto the floor, and responded, “Sounds great, I have no plans. You ride in a motorcycle club? Like that show on T.V.? And what’s a poker run?”

“Well, kind of. We’re not outlaws, were a group of guys that ride together in a club. Everyone is a member. We wear colors, or identifying vests and jackets with the club insignia, if you will. And, a poker run is an organized motorcycle ride. You ride to five different locations, and at each location, you pick up a playing card from a deck of cards, at random. At the end, you turn your five random cards in to the judges. The judges determine who has received the best poker hand, from the random cards each rider has received,” I took a breath and continued.

“There’s a fee to ride in it, and anywhere from 200 people to 3000 people show up, depending on the cause and the event. The money from the proceeds received goes to a donation. This time it goes to a little ten year old girl that has developed cancer.”

“Oh my God. That’s sad. The little girl. It’s good that you do that, I suppose. Sounds fun. And kind of exciting,” she said, as she looked out the window at the motorcycle.

“Well, I am going to meet the rest of the group up at the gas station, let’s say I will call you around six o’clock, how’s that?”

“Sounds great. I’m going to sit here and read for a bit,” she said as she reached into her purse and retrieved a Kindle.

“What are you reading?” I asked. I always liked knowing what types of books people read. It told a lot about them.

“Broken People. It’s a freaking masterpiece. This is the third time I have read it. I’m highlighting quotes in it,” she responded as she powered the Kindle on.