Page 146 of Devil’s Disciples

55

Kimberly

Sitting on the edge of my small concrete porch with her bare legs stretched onto the sidewalk and her elbows propped at her sides, Jennifer looked like she was sunbathing at the beach.

“That looks really classy,” I said. “I hope the neighbors aren’t watching.”

“It wouldn’t be a newsflash, or anything.” She tilted her head in my direction. “The neighbors know I don’t have an ounce of class.”

I gestured toward her sparsely covered chest. “You should be in the back yard. One of your boobs is going to fall out the side of that thing.”

“I’m ready for a mimosa. I was up all night reading,” she complained. “Hurry up, so we can go lay out.”

The darker Jennifer’s skin was, the happier she was. She spent her late mornings and early afternoons maintaining her tan; sometimes at home, and oftentimes in my back yard. I enjoyed being outdoors with her, but my natural skin tone was such that I preferred to be slathered in enough sunscreen to preclude my skin from darkening any further.

I moved the hose to the end of the flower bed. “I’m almost done.”

The sound of a motorcycle in the distance caused me to look up.

Jennifer jumped to her feet. “Sounds like Dolla Bill’s coming.”

My heart raced at the thought of seeing him. The frustrations that had developed over the course of our conversation about stripper poles and cum-fests promptly vanished. As the sound of him approaching grew louder, I wondered just how resistant I could be to any advances he might make.

With the hose dangling loosely from my left hand, I gazed up the block and waited for a glimpse of him, hoping he wasn’t simply going to rush past. When the motorcycle came into view, my heart sank as I realized it wasn’t him.

The rider’s eyes locked on Jennifer as he rode past. Hers, in turn, followed him. The motorcycle slowed. Jennifer tugged at her top, ensuring the proper portions of her anatomy were exposed for his viewing pleasure.

Then, in the middle of the street, the motorcycle came to a stop.

“Jesus, Jennifer,” I whispered. “Now what?”

While the rider glanced over his left shoulder, Jennifer took a few steps toward the street. In response, he turned the motorcycle around and promptly pulled into my driveway.

He shut the engine off and removed his helmet.

I was shocked at his age. Lack of age was more like it. He appeared young.

Really young.

“He’s Jason’s age,” I whispered.

She either didn’t hear me or didn’t care. As she strutted toward him, he stepped off the motorcycle and set his helmet on the seat.

He was muscular, covered in tattoos, and all-around adorable looking. Adorable, and the same age as Jennifer’s son, Jason.

She glanced at the motorcycle and then looked at him. “That thing looks like it doesn’t have room for two.”

“It doesn’t,” he said. “But, I’ve got a few others that do.”

“You should ride one of them the next time you’re coming this way.” She pushed her hands into the front pockets of her shorts. “Are you going up the street to see your buddy?”

“I was.”

I released the trigger on the spray nozzle and stared in disbelief at Jennifer’s fascination in the young biker.

“We see you guys ride by here all the time,” she said.

He folded his arms across his wide chest and looked right at her. “You’re going to need to cancel any plans you’ve got for this evening.”