Motorcycle Hug

August 1, 2009
By
As he drove, she looked at his shirt. Today it was white cotton and frayed a little at the collar. But it gleamed bright in the sunlight against the ochre-colored skin of his neck. Above it, his hair was neatly clipped to bristle at the back and sides, curving over the bones of his skull which disappeared under a jet black mop on the top, a little like an Eton crop. Ellen peeked over his shoulder at the traffic ahead of them and caught a whiff of something delicious; it was the clean, tangy smell of warm skin. She stared at the side of his neck and, quite unexpectedly, got a vivid flash: an image of pressing her lips to it.

…this story now appears in the “Coming Together Anthology: Remittance Girl” which is a collection of my work. All proceeds from this book go to support free speech, through the ACLU.

Please consider purchasing it.

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One Response to Motorcycle Hug

  1. Heloise on December 3, 2009 at 6:21 am

    I loved this! it was beautifully written and so damn hot… so, so, good. i want an epilogue.

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