He was a talker. He just got all the stories in the world, literally – like how Taj Mahal was built, who ordered to build the Colossus of Rome, how Cleopatra died, how Amerigo Vespuci discovered America, and why Virgin Mary remained a virgin.
He was totally charming, oozing with great sex appeal. I didn’t really get all of the information from his stories. Who cares? Who would care listen to those “facts” when a gorgeous guy is talking right in front of you? I don’t know who would, but I know it’s not me.
We both had a few drinks while he keeps on talking. At first, I really thought his stories were very boring, until I got hooked up with his stories… but then again, I didn’t get all the informational facts from those stories. I was just interested in him, period.
The evening became very long with Stephen. My girls went on their own already, while me and Stephen were stuck with each other. We were left alone in the bar. He’s just a talker. Wait, did I say that already? Oh well, that’s just him… and that made me more interested in him. We had another set of drinks before we decided to leave.
Right after we went of the bar was the time I remembered I didn’t bring my ride. I just hitched a ride earlier with Erica. So, I’m “ride-less”. But much to my surprise, Stephen offered me a ride home! I can’t help but to accept the offer. After all, I’ve known him through his stories… and I really find him cute!
He owns a black Ducati, though I forgot the model. He wore his shining black leather jacket before he jumped on. I was just amused how he looks good on that leather jacket with the Ducati. It made me like him more, wanting more of him. Later on, after wearing his helmet, he offered one to me as well as his hand for to me to have a grip.
A few minutes later, I was on the highway riding a black Ducati with this cute guy in his black leather jacket. Because my arms wrapped around him, I can’t help but smell his sweet, musky scent – a manly scent, I should say.
“Where are we heading again?” he broke off.
“Oh! My pad is at The Parallel Suites. You can drop me there.”
“Sure.”
We were both quiet after that short conversation. He was concentrating on his driving, while I was enjoying my every moment with him. I know I might not see him right after.
Not so long, we were already in front of The Parallel Suites, where my condo lies. I got off from his ride, wishing he would ask for my number and offer his.
“Thank you for taking me home.”
“Sure. No problem,” was his short reply.
Should I give him the cue? Should I give him my number? What should I do?
Then an idea pinged my brain. It was like there’s a doorbell of some sort somewhere and it buzzed me right through my head.
… to be continued
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