thoughts because her gaze hardened.
“Save your pity. I don’t need it.”
I held up my hands to stave off any argument.
It seemed to be all she wanted to do. That and sleep. I voted for
sleep, but not until we reached a bed.
“Are you going to fall asleep again? Because
we won’t get far this way.”
“Yes, I’ll most likely fall asleep again. No
matter what I’ve tried, I can’t seem to avoid it.”
“Maybe you should stop avoiding it,” I said,
exasperated. Humans needed sleep. It was a fact of their lives. I
could see she wasn’t prepared for the facts though. I sighed,
knowing I was going to regret my next words.
“Loosen the strap of your bag as far as it
will go, then get on.”
Bethi did as I asked, and once she was behind
me, I lifted the strap over my head and tightened it, effectively
strapping her to me.
“Take both arms out so it’s around your
waist,” I said. If there was frustration in my words it was because
I could feel too much of her front against my back. I hated that I
loved it so much.
“She’s a little more than a child,” I said
under my breath, in an effort to bring the situation in
perspective. The words didn’t help as she wiggled against me to
position the strap.
“Aren’t you done yet?”
“Don’t bark at me. This is your idea.”
She finally stopped moving, which I took as a
sign she’d finished, and I quickly got us back on the road. I
hadn’t even managed to gain the speed limit when I felt her go
slack. The strap seemed to keep her in place, though, so I kept to
the road.
Everything was going fine until she began to
twitch. First, just her fingers moved a bit. Then her head started
to jerk slightly. When her right leg kicked out, she unbalanced the
bike and herself to the left. I leaned right to counter balance and
used my right hand to try to right her as the bike started to slow.
Instead of connecting with her arm, or preferably her shoulder, my
palm cupped her breast.
“Bloody hell.”
My brain short circuited at the feel of her
soft curve, and instead of squeezing the brake lever, normally an
action completed with my right hand, I squeezed her. Panicking, I
jerked the handle bar and almost drove us into the opposite ditch.
Some sense of preservation had me using the rear brake with my
foot—as I should have done in the first place.
A car honked and swerved around us. I
realized two things: I’d stopped the bike on the yellow lines; and
I still held Bethi’s breast.
Whipping my hand away, I swore again. She
moved loosely behind me but didn’t wake. How could she still be
sleeping? Not that I wasn’t thankful for it.
I rubbed the sweat from my forehead then
moved the bike to the shoulder until my shaking stopped. It took a
few minutes because I could still feel the ghost of that soft mound
in my hand. Rubbing my palm on my pants didn’t help remove the
sensation. Chanting her age in my head did. Eventually.
Once we got back on the road, she continued
to twitch. I didn’t try to straighten her, trusting the strap to
keep her in place. However, each twitch rubbed her against me,
driving me mad.
When I saw a motel ahead, I didn’t hesitate
to pull in to the small parking lot.
Bethi’s head jerked upright. “What are you
doing?”
Now she woke up?
“You keep twitching. You can’t ride sleeping.
It’s not safe.”
“Safety isn’t relevant,” she said.
I parked the bike and started to loosen the
strap as she continued to argue.
“Sleeping strapped to you is better than
sleeping here. We need to keep moving.”
“Believe me, I’m all for hurrying, but I’m
not going to risk you falling off.” I lifted the strap over my
head, freeing her from my back. She hurried to dismount.
“I’m not tired anymore.”
Her pulse and scent gave away the lie.
“I don’t want to stay here,” she said, her
scent changing to panic.
“Too bad. Inside. Now,” I said, pointing
toward the door marked “Office.”
Her pleading gaze
“Save your pity. I don’t need it.”
I held up my hands to stave off any argument.
It seemed to be all she wanted to do. That and sleep. I voted for
sleep, but not until we reached a bed.
“Are you going to fall asleep again? Because
we won’t get far this way.”
“Yes, I’ll most likely fall asleep again. No
matter what I’ve tried, I can’t seem to avoid it.”
“Maybe you should stop avoiding it,” I said,
exasperated. Humans needed sleep. It was a fact of their lives. I
could see she wasn’t prepared for the facts though. I sighed,
knowing I was going to regret my next words.
“Loosen the strap of your bag as far as it
will go, then get on.”
Bethi did as I asked, and once she was behind
me, I lifted the strap over my head and tightened it, effectively
strapping her to me.
“Take both arms out so it’s around your
waist,” I said. If there was frustration in my words it was because
I could feel too much of her front against my back. I hated that I
loved it so much.
“She’s a little more than a child,” I said
under my breath, in an effort to bring the situation in
perspective. The words didn’t help as she wiggled against me to
position the strap.
“Aren’t you done yet?”
“Don’t bark at me. This is your idea.”
She finally stopped moving, which I took as a
sign she’d finished, and I quickly got us back on the road. I
hadn’t even managed to gain the speed limit when I felt her go
slack. The strap seemed to keep her in place, though, so I kept to
the road.
Everything was going fine until she began to
twitch. First, just her fingers moved a bit. Then her head started
to jerk slightly. When her right leg kicked out, she unbalanced the
bike and herself to the left. I leaned right to counter balance and
used my right hand to try to right her as the bike started to slow.
Instead of connecting with her arm, or preferably her shoulder, my
palm cupped her breast.
“Bloody hell.”
My brain short circuited at the feel of her
soft curve, and instead of squeezing the brake lever, normally an
action completed with my right hand, I squeezed her. Panicking, I
jerked the handle bar and almost drove us into the opposite ditch.
Some sense of preservation had me using the rear brake with my
foot—as I should have done in the first place.
A car honked and swerved around us. I
realized two things: I’d stopped the bike on the yellow lines; and
I still held Bethi’s breast.
Whipping my hand away, I swore again. She
moved loosely behind me but didn’t wake. How could she still be
sleeping? Not that I wasn’t thankful for it.
I rubbed the sweat from my forehead then
moved the bike to the shoulder until my shaking stopped. It took a
few minutes because I could still feel the ghost of that soft mound
in my hand. Rubbing my palm on my pants didn’t help remove the
sensation. Chanting her age in my head did. Eventually.
Once we got back on the road, she continued
to twitch. I didn’t try to straighten her, trusting the strap to
keep her in place. However, each twitch rubbed her against me,
driving me mad.
When I saw a motel ahead, I didn’t hesitate
to pull in to the small parking lot.
Bethi’s head jerked upright. “What are you
doing?”
Now she woke up?
“You keep twitching. You can’t ride sleeping.
It’s not safe.”
“Safety isn’t relevant,” she said.
I parked the bike and started to loosen the
strap as she continued to argue.
“Sleeping strapped to you is better than
sleeping here. We need to keep moving.”
“Believe me, I’m all for hurrying, but I’m
not going to risk you falling off.” I lifted the strap over my
head, freeing her from my back. She hurried to dismount.
“I’m not tired anymore.”
Her pulse and scent gave away the lie.
“I don’t want to stay here,” she said, her
scent changing to panic.
“Too bad. Inside. Now,” I said, pointing
toward the door marked “Office.”
Her pleading gaze
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