I cannot remember ever writing an ode, a poem or a story about anyone who mesmerized me. I think this is my first. This happened yesterday, Wednesday, August 14, 2013.
The Girl On The Dirty Bike (an Ode)
A partly sunny day one August afternoon
I had just walked out of the fast-food joint when I saw…her.
She had just pulled up and parked her dirty motorcycle
Under the shade of the tree.
She was getting off the bike – I was about to get in my car.
But I stopped to stare at…
She walked in my direction…
The entrance to the fast-food joint behind me.
This fyne-looking young babe…no…
Not merely a babe, but…
I guessed her age to be late 20’s, perhaps 30.
Noticing more clearly this…woman walking towards me,
I spoke to her…
“Not often do I see a woman – a FYNE woman, ride a bike solo. I like that!”
I felt at ease speaking to this beautiful stranger –
as if I’d known her all my life.
She stopped to look and smile at me.
I clearly noticed her pleasant smile and her face,
Eyes hidden behind dark reflective lenses.
Her attire was black –
Except for tight blue jeans.
And the red paisley-print bandana around her small head.
She was small frame and stood about five-six or five-seven.
Physically, she was clearly my type –
The type of woman I had always known against my body.
Though I could not see her eyes, I knew she was… beautiful.
Her skin – smooth and flawless; her hair – long and dark brown.
She had a certain… toughness about her, yet clearly
I sensed her sexiness and sensuality
The aura strong but not overwhelming.
Yes, it is true…
It does take one to know one.
Then she spoke. Her voice made my nature twitch.
“Thank you” she said.
I asked, “Are you a member of a club?”
Through I could not see or read her eyes,
By her facial expression and body language,
I could tell she was impressed…
Impressed that I knew to call a group of bikers
a “club”, not a “gang”.
She smiled at me again and spoke…
And, as she continued to explain why,
I felt my nature not just twitch but begin to rise.
She looked so fyne and sounded so…
Yes, it was her voice. Feminine…slightly rough yet smooth;
Her voice – silky and quiet, but not a whisper.
Her voice – clearly a sound of determination and… confidence.
I could tell she loved and reveled in her feminine independence.
I was so turned on at that point.
We exchanged quick pleasantries as I told her of my love for bikes.
Then I said it …
not sounding cocky but very sure of my words…
“I think it’s kool to see women riding bikes. In fact, it’s a turn-on.”
She smiled again.
I was hard … and a bit wet, too.
Yes, her voice and her smile had me.
Respectful of her time, I let her go when I said,
She said, “Thank you – take care.”
As I got in my car, I watched in my rear-view mirror
as she walked in the joint.
I didn’t get her name but I shall call her…
No regrets but I hope to see her around again…
The rough hours of the earlier part of my day
Pleasantly shadowed by my meeting of…
The girl on the dirty bike.
©2013 RobFather-X! Productions. All rights reserved.