Notes and Disclaimers: This story, all characters and situations are the sole copyright of E. Friedman, 2003. Please do not use without permission – just drop me a line and ask first before you go steal my stuff, thanks.
This IS a fiction with “adult” content. If you are under 18 or object to lesbian sex scenes, please return to the Home Page and choose another story. If you continue to read, you are committing both an act of indecency, and doing something that’s very stupid and tiresome. No one will respect you for making bad decisions.
This story was originally written for submission to a lesbian erotic magazine, but had to be cut considerably to fit the submission requirements. Here’s the full version.
If you enjoy it, do please let me know at firstname.lastname@example.org
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‘B’ is for Bike
It was a dream come true.
It was the end of a long, hard journey.
It was a new beginning.
Sandra took a deep breath and turned the key, locking her front door. Okay, to some people it was just an impulse buy, a mid-life crisis kind of thing. But to her, it was the fulfillment of years of longed-for pleasure. She shivered slightly – the very word pleasure took on a whole new meaning these days.
Another deep breath and Sandra was off. This was the last day she’d have to walk to work, to the store, to anywhere. Her last debt was paid, her last memory of the hell she’d been living in for seventeen years gone.
Her hands thrust into her pockets, Sandra thought over the obligations she’d left behind; the ruins of a marriage, children who no longer spoke to her. It hurt, of course, but it hurt less with the passing of each anniversary of leaving Stephen. That wasn’t something she’d ever regret, not for a single second. Not even when the divorce lawyer he hired had raked her over the coals, submitting her personal and professional life to the harsh review of the press, her family and her peers. It had been hell, but she had made it through. Her son turned 21 tomorrow and she had no more child support to pay. Her daughter had just graduated grad school – no more tuition. She sighed. She would have liked to have seen Elizabeth get her PhD, but she hadn’t been invited to the ceremony. Which was probably just as well.
Sandra ran one hand through the spiky hair on the top of her head. It was getting long – time to get it buzzed. She gazed at herself in a shop window as she passed and grinned. Could she even imagine going to something like a graduation ceremony at such a fancy university? She doubted strongly that boots and leather jackets were de rigueur at such affairs. But there was no going back. And no regrets.
It took a while to walk down past the train station and up the hill, cross the highway and go past the strip mall. Almost an hour had passed when at last Sandra stepped up to her destination. The printed sign above the building said, “BJ’s Bikes” and the sign in the door read. “Open.” She braced herself and stepped in.
The place was bigger than it looked from the outside. Sandra gazed around for a moment, trying to get her bearings. The glare of the lights on gleaming chrome dazzled her eyes for a moment, and she felt them water. That was it, the lights, yeah. She rubbed an impatient hand across her face, and looked around to see if there was a salesman anywhere.
No one appeared after a moment or two, so Sandra wandered the showroom. Once or twice a motorcycle made her catch her breath with its sleek lines, or she would find herself softly stroking the gas tank in wonder. It was such a stupid thing, she knew, that one could be so infatuated with the beauty of a machine. But then she reminded herself that people took vacations train- or plane-spotting and she felt a little less self-conscious about her almost physical desire for a motorcycle.
“Can I help you?” The voice made Sandra whirl around too fast, bumping a handlebar with her hip. She lunged to keep the bike upright, but the woman who stood behind her was already there, a leg in place to steady the bike – and a hand in place to steady Sandra.
“I’m sorry,” Sandra began, but the woman smiled and shook her head.
“No, it’s okay – it’s my fault for startling you. I forget that people just get caught up out here.” Her smile took on a new dimension as she gestured to include the showroom. “I can stand here for an hour and just look sometimes, too.”
Sandra tried not to stare at the saleswoman. She wasn’t the usual type of woman one associated with bikers. There was nothing slutty, halter-topped, oversized chest about this woman….She looked, Sandra admitted at last, like a saleswoman in a clothes store. Fashionable and blandly pleasant, nothing more.
“Uh, it’s not to usual to see a woman selling bikes.” She smiled agreeably, trying to pretend that she did this all the time.
The woman’s smile didn’t flicker. “Even rarer to meet a woman who owns the bike shop. I’m BJ.” She held out a hand that Sandra took automatically. BJ’s grip was confident as she said, “So I guess you wanna buy a bike?”
Sandra grinned. “I want to ride out on one. Can you help me?”
“Absolutely.” BJ’s grin widened. “Any ideas about what you want?”
Here Sandra was on solid ground. She had been doing her research for years. “Yes, I’m looking for a Yamaha Virago. A 750 – do you have something like that?”
BJ looked thoughtful. “Yamaha? Well, let’s see…I think I have one. Last year’s model, would that be okay?”
“Sure!” Sandra was pleased – last year’s model meant last year’s price. “But, what color is it?” She laughed a little at that, for being so girly about something so macho. But BJ’s expression hadn’t changed and Sandra felt better that the saleswoman was taking her so seriously.
“It’s black, if I remember correctly. Will that do?”
Sandra nodded happily. She had always imagined herself on a black bike, in black leather, full helmet and….
“Shit.” BJ hissed without any apology. “I forgot. The Virago’s used. Look, if you like the Yamaha feel, how about the V-Star Classic. It’s only 650, but unless you want to do heavy riding, it’ll be just fine.” She sized Sandra up carefully. “You’re about, what, 5’8″? A Classic should fit you nicely. Come on.” Without pausing for agreement, BJ turned and walked toward the back of the store. “I keep some of my stock back here, I’m pretty sure…” she muttered to herself, while Sandra ran a bit to catch up to the saleswoman.
“Right, it’s out here!” BJ’s muffled voice came from behind a pair of swinging doors. “Just come on out.”
Sandra pushed the doors open to find herself behind the building. BJ was standing next to a sleek bike, all black and chrome and tapered lines. It was beautiful. Sandra stepped up to it gingerly, afraid that it might be sold or broken, or just plain out of her reach, like so many other things her whole life.
“Whaddaya think? Sweet, huh? Go ahead, sit on her, I bet she’d like that.”
Sandra’s face reddened at the double entendre, but she took hold of the handlebars and swung her leg over the seat. When she sat, she could barely stop the sigh of happiness that threatened to issue from her mouth.
“Yeah, yeah, you look really good.” BJ nodded. “Both feet on the ground okay? Arms okay?”
Sandra nodded again, then gave a belated vocal confirmation. “It…she…feels really nice.”
BJs eyes crinkled up at that. “Yeah, I like this model too. I’ve got the 1100, but it’s a nice bike for a beginner.” Sandra’s head whipped up at that, but BJ wasn’t even looking in her direction. “You want to take it for a test first?”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll just ride it home.” Sandra dragged her fingers along the side of the bike, caressing the metal gently. In a little while this baby would be hers…she looked up to see BJ watching her carefully and she blushed a little, wondering if she’d been obvious.
“It’s okay, you know.” BJ spoke gently. “I do it too. They’re just so damn gorgeous. Like a beautiful woman – all curves and hints. And they ride like a woman too. You keep ’em they way they want to be kept or you don’t keep them at all.” She grinned mischieviously. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”
Sandra laughed, embarrassed. “I can’t deny it.” There was more she wanted to say, but BJ was walking away, back to the showroom.
“Come on, let’s get the paperwork started. I want you riding that lovely little thing home as soon as possible.”
Once again Sandra was forced to run to catch up the to other woman. They were about the same height, but BJ’s strides were longer. Sandra found her eyes wandering down to take in the woman’s legs. They looked firm in the tight jeans and Sandra followed the line up again, stopping at BJ’s belt. She blushed again when BJ turned around abruptly, expecting to be called to task for ogling, but all the saleswoman said was, “Have a seat.”
“Okay, let’s start with the pertinent details. What’s your name?”
“Sandy.” Sandra said, surprising herself. She’d always hated the name Sandy, even as a child. As a professional, she’d insisted on Sandra, believing the full name would command more respect than the diminutive form. “Sandy Devereaux.”
“Address? Phone number, etc, etc?” BJ jotted the information down quickly and neatly. Sandra watched her hands as they moved across the paper. It took some time before all of the paperwork was completed. Sandra didn’t need financing – she was paying cash. She’d been saving up for years, cutting back on her few simple treats every month to make this happen. Anything else she needed, she’d put on that fresh, clean credit card she had in her pocket.
“Okay, last thing. Right now, your bike has no windshield, two saddlebags and a seat for two. No customization. You want us to change that? You wanna look in the catalog for anything?”
Sandra gave the question some thought. “I’ll keep the bags – I’d need them anyway, but I don’t really need the seat for two…”
BJ put her hand on top of Sandra’s to interrupt her. Smiling, she said, “But you might – you never know when a seat for a second person might just make a difference.” Sandra looked into BJ’s eyes and was startled to find them a dark gray. Was there a hint of a tease in those eyes?
“You’re right,” she answered and the hand that covered hers withdrew. “You never know.” And she grinned, openly, impudently. BJ’s smile wavered for one instant, then was back at twice the wattage. But her eyes were veiled now.
Sandra watched BJ finish up the paperwork. She was perfectly sure that there was nothing there; the tease was purely a sales tactic that she used with the men who came into her store, and if it worked as well with the lone lesbian or two that came in, then fine. Whatever works, works. Sandra shrugged internally. It didn’t matter. She had her bike and she was happy.
“Okay, then.” BJ was back carrying a sheaf of papers. “You have insurance? Okay, good, then let’s go over the features and warranty and shit like that.” She laughed at herself, “Sorry, sometimes I forget I’m supposed to be professional.”
“That’s okay,” Sandra said shaking her head. “I’m not offended.” Once again she was walking through the doors to the back of the building. This time her mind was filled with images of backing BJ into a corner and kissing her, hard. She allowed the images to wander where they would, not bothering reining in her mind. It didn’t hurt anyone – it was just fantasy.
“Good, then here’s the ignition, choke, gas…” BJ was pointing as she spoke, but she stopped. “Get on the bike,” she commanded suddenly.
“I said, get on that bike.” BJ’s face was completely serious. Sandra stared at her in open shock for a second, then obeyed. She settled herself into the seat, took the grips in her hand and looked back at the saleswoman.
“That’s better. You look really hot there and I wanted to look at you.” BJ smiled down at Sandra.
It’s just a sales ploy, Sandra reminded herself – it’s just a tactic. Enjoy it, but don’t buy it. After a few seconds she was breathing again and was able to make out the words BJ was saying.
“…in for a 600 mile check up and we’ll do any last minute changes. Keep the brakes loose, but not too loose – you can adjust them here. You’ll want to have about a quarter inch give.” BJ leaned down to show Sandra the brake valve. “Got that?”
Sandra nodded and BJ said, “You’re the strong silent type, aren’t you, Sandy?”
Shrugging, Sandra grinned. “I guess so.”
“I like that. Here. Hold these.” BJ passed the papers she was holding to Sandra, then swung herself onto the pillion seat. “This is the way someone should hold on, if you’re going to ride with someone else.” She slipped her arms around Sandra’s waist. “But on no account should they do this while you’re on the road.”
Sandra could feel warm lips against the back of her neck, followed by the slow heat of a long, deep bite. Her hand slipped from the grip and she rolled her head back with a moan.
BJ’s hands rose from their position at her waist, finding their way under Sandra’s shirt. In seconds, BJ had both nipples in her hands and was pulling at them, all the while keeping contact with Sandra’s neck. Sandra was moaning uncontrollably now, not caring who might hear or see them.
“I meant it,” BJ murmured against her neck. “I think you look unbelievably hot.”
Sandra’s only answer was a guttural noise. She turned her head to capture BJ’s lips, her crotch throbbing against the leather seat.
They kissed hard, tongues meeting, teasing. BJ still had her hands in Sandra’s shirt, still pinching her nipples, stroking them as she might her clit, a thought which made Sandra moan into BJs mouth. BJ took this as a cue and disengaged herself from Sandra completely, standing up in a single, fluid motion.
“Come on.” Sandra had no will to argue, she followed BJ back into the shop once more, panting with need as the other woman pulled her along. In a small, dark dressing room, she was slammed against the wall. “Stay,” was all she heard, so she stayed, not moving, afraid that this was a joke, that BJ was walking away laughing at her. But the other woman came back in a few moments, her arms full.
“I couldn’t bear the thought of you riding out of here looking like that.” BJ tugged Sandra’s jacket off, and her shirt, then her bra, leaving Sandra half-naked. “Try this.” She handed over a jacket. It fit, but looked stupid. The next one didn’t fit. The third felt like smooth cream being poured over Sandra’s body. BJ watched Sandra zip up the jacket, and swallowed hard, her eyes large and round.
They both pulled off Sandra’s pants and underwear, tossing them into a corner of the tiny room, where they were immediately forgotten. The first pair of leather pants was perfect; Sandra thought she might come just wearing them. BJ might too, she thought, noting the hunger on the other woman’s face.
“Yeah, that was it.” BJ whispered hoarsely, her hands moving across Sandra’s leather clad chest. “This is what I needed.” Her hands passed across Sandra’s nipples and both women moaned quietly.
They locked eyes at that, smiling at each other for a long moment. As BJ slid down Sandra’s body until she was on her knees. Sandra’s smile was fixed on her face as the heat of BJ’s mouth crossed her groin, pressing the leather against her.
“Go…” Sandra croaked, gripping BJ’s hair with both hands, as the saleswoman’s tongue played back and forth across the leather and the hard, wet flesh underneath.
Sandra came silently, her head pressed back against the wall. Her fingers dug into BJ’s head and shoulder, until she could no longer feel them as separate from herself. When at last the saleswoman pulled away from her, Sandra’s shaking legs gave way and she fell to her knees.
She spent a minute panting, trying to regain what little composure she could call her own. Her eyes wouldn’t focus in the poorly lit room and she couldn’t make BJ out in the dim light. She hung her head and worked on breathing normally.
Eventually, Sandra pulled herself together. She lifted her head and was surprised and disappointed to find herself alone in the changing room. But a moment later she heard a voice from the showroom.
“Large? Of course, they’re right over here. The full-face helmets are around the other side. Take a moment to look – I’ll be right back in case you need any help.”
Sandra was still on her knees when BJ came through the door. The saleswoman smiled at her and put a finger to her lips. “Customer” she mouthed. Sandra nodded and started to unbutton BJ’s pants, looking fixedly ahead of her. BJ’s hands pushed at her, but she moved them away and got the button and zipper undone.
BJ hesitated for a second, then pulled her pants down, her hands on Sandra’s head.
Sandra didn’t hesitate at all.
Her skin was soft – that was the first sensation. Then the slightly salty taste, the feel of lips and clit against her tongue. Sandra saw red as she began to suck on BJ. She wrapped her arms around the other woman’s legs, stroking them, stroking her firm ass and feeling them begin to shake. She was just able to get two fingers into BJ, when the other woman came violently, shaking and jerking against the dressing room wall.
With great heaving breaths and soft giggles, they dressed BJ quickly; with a shove, Sandra sent the saleswoman out to the floor. As she removed the leather jacket, Sandra listened to BJ’s sales pitch. She could hear the same teasing tone coaxing a better sale out of her next customer. Sandra smiled. Hey, if it works…
Half an hour later, the two women stood at the door, while BJ turned the sign around to “Closed.” Sandra mounted the bike and waited for BJ’s arms to grip her waist – the proper way.
Before she hit the ignition, Sandra turned and shot a look at the woman behind her.
“Hey,” she said, “what the ‘B’ in BJ stand for?”
BJ looked up at the sign over the door and turned back. “Beatrice,” she admitted reluctantly. “Beatrice Jean.”
Sandra nodded sympathetically and hit the ignition. The bike came to life with a satisfying roar.
As they rode out of the lot, Sandra could hear an advertisement form in her mind. After all – that was what she did, write advertising copy. “B is for bikes,” it went, “and you can always trust Bea.”
Behind her, BJ tightened her arms around Sandra’s waist.
She had been right – today was the end of a long journey, but the start of a much, much better one.