Their hands bumped as each reached for the only copy of "Bugs and Daffy: The War Years." He snatched his hand back and looked at his competitor. His eyes widened slightly as he found himself staring into sullen blue eyes in an ivory face.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "go ahead."

"No, that's all right. I've seen it before."

"No, really. Ladies first."

"No need to get insulting," she chuckled.

He looked at her again, his natural shyness in the face of a female overcome somewhat by the friendly sound. "Oh sorry. I just meant… I mean I've seen it a couple of times too. It's just a good way to spend an evening."

She grinned at him, all too obviously amused by his flustered response. "I know. I love it… Gremlins from the Kremlin. And Brick-a-bracka firecracker, sis-boom-bah, Bugs Bunny, Bugs Bunny…”

"Rah, rah, rah," he finished, returning the grin.

Relaxing an iota, he let his eyes take in the woman beyond the blue eyes. The leather jacket had been hard to ignore, but now he could see the rally pins in the collar, the chain around the shoulder and the Harley-Davidson patch across the left side of her chest. He took a slightly closer look at the pins.

"You've been to the Love Ride? And Sturgis? Cool. Me too. What years?"

Her stance relaxed and the easy grin got even wider. "Been to Sturgis the last three years, did the Love Ride year before last, when my brother still lived in L.A. Went to the Laughlin River Run this year, 'cause now my brother's in Vegas. He and I meet up at events, makes for a good reunion."

"Wow, I've been in Sturgis the last two years and Laughlin this year too. Weird."

"Yeah, small world." Her eyes roamed over his scooter-style jacket, torn Levis and engineer boots before coming back to his bashful eyes hiding behind thick lashes. "What'dya ride?"

"Got a '98 Springer. How 'bout you?"

"Cool bike, I'll bet that's the one I parked next to in the lot. Black?"

He nodded.

She continued, "I got a '00 Deuce, purple pearl with ghost flames." She looked at him speculatively for a minute, as if making up her mind about him. "I’ve got an idea. Maybe a bad one, I've been known to have a few of those on occasion, but how about you come to my place, we'll watch the movie together, swap biker lies and have a few beers."

He hesitated, feeling a nervous clenching in his stomach. His mouth went dry, but looking into the friendly eyes he found himself saying, "Sure. OK, sounds good."

"Great, but then you get to pay for the movie," she laughed.

Out in the fresh evening air he pushed his fear of women from his mind. After all, she wasn't a woman, she was a biker. He looked over her immaculate Deuce, admiring the smooth, flowing curves.

"Beautiful bike," he breathed.

"Thanks. But have you ever met a Harley you didn't like?" She laughed again, so easily, so naturally.

His tensions began to ease in her presence. As soon as he straddled his bike, he was calm, as always. Riding made him forget all his worries. Concerns slipped away like rain off of a well-waxed tank. He looked over at the tall brunette on the Deuce, she grinned again, obviously as happy in the saddle as he was.

"So, you want to take the long road?"

"OK," he answered, not telling her that he always took the long road whenever he could.

"OK then, follow me."

They pulled out into the light evening traffic. She took the left half of the lane, he fell in behind on her right. He followed easily, his eyes roaming up the long legs that seemed to embrace the big V-Twin. He couldn't help but watch her ride, she seemed as at-ease on the low profile solo seat as he was on his. As her braids flowed in the wind, he wondered how she'd look with her hair down.

It took nearly half an hour to reach the narrow driveway in front of a small brick bungalow. He parked along side the Deuce and killed the engine. He heard a deep barking coming from inside the house. As soon as he stepped from the bike his trepidation returned. He almost changed his mind.

She must have sensed his nervousness and mistook it for concern about the dog barking loudly inside.

"C'mon. Don't worry. That's just Gomer. He's all bark, trust me."

"That's OK, I like dogs."

"Rub his ears then, and you'll be his friend for life."

He followed her up the cement pathway to the front door. It wasn't locked. Pushing the door open, she was greeted by a low-slung black and white hound.

He laughed. "Not quite as fearsome looking as he sounds, is he?"

"Nope. Part Basset and god knows what else, but at a whopping 28 pounds he's an awesome burglar alarm." He knelt to rub the long, silky ears. The dog groaned his pleasure then followed his heels into the living room.

"I just realized I've invited a strange man into my home and he hasn't even asked me my name yet."

"Oh, uh…sorry. What is your name?"

She saw the hint of a blush creep into his cheeks, smiled, extended her hand and said, "My friends call me Billy. Don't tell anyone, but it's cause my real name is Wilhemina." She made a sour face. "But call me that and I'll have to hurt you. What's yours?"

"Funny, mine's Bill. Short for William though, and you can call me that, but I'll think it's 'cause I'm in trouble."

They both laughed.

"Okay, Bill. Make yourself comfy, I'll get some chips and beer."

He slipped off his jacket, but definitely was not comfortable. The place smelled feminine and sweet. His mind was getting jumbled with conflicting emotions; fear and turmoil with a rising undercurrent of attraction. He had never felt at ease with women, always feeling that there were ulterior motives for every action. In his mind they were predatory pack animals, waiting to devour the weak and injured. His stomach churned, his mouth was dry and his hands were damp.

He was still standing, coat in hand, when she returned to the living room with two beers in one hand and a bag of Doritos in the other. "Well, sit down. The couch offers the best view…well, actually the only view of the TV."

He obliged as she set her burden on the small coffee table and slid the tape into the VCR. She fast forwarded through the FBI warnings and previews, getting right to Leonard Maltin's introduction to the war era cartoons. She settled onto the couch next to him, near enough that he could almost feel the warmth of her thigh. He swallowed hard against his panic, washing it down with a long pull on the cold beer.

Soon enough though, he was relaxed and laughing as Daffy took on the Mata Hari of pigeons.

"Oh, oh…I love this part," she laughed as Daffy popped out of a refrigerator. She quoted along with him, "Well, what do you know? The little light…it stays on."

Both laughed. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. The beer had relaxed him enough that he no longer felt sick, and now he was beginning to wonder if he dare ask for her phone number. Damn he hated being such a chicken shit with women, but he just couldn't help himself. He watched surreptitiously, enthralled as she unbound the braids and ran her fingers through the shiny light brown hair, loosing the tresses into waves that flowed over her broad shoulders. He caught a faint whiff of flowers.

In the brief lull between cartoons, she went to the kitchen to retrieve two more beers. She settled on the couch close enough that her thigh touched his from hip to knee. Her hand settled on his knee as she handed him an open bottle and smiled into his eyes. He found himself suddenly and profoundly aroused.

She saw the flush in his cheeks. "So Bill, how come you haven't made any moves on me yet?" she asked in a teasing tone.

"Uh…" he had absolutely no response, and couldn't meet her eyes.

"It's OK to be shy, you know. It's kind of sweet. And a definite change from most of the apes I meet."

He forced his eyes up to meet hers and was caught off guard by the gentle, kind gleam he saw there. A small smile touched her lips and she held his gaze. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly.

"See, not too bad."

He was still unable to formulate a response. His mind was in chaos. She leaned forward again, kissing him, lips parted and tongue teasing. She caught his lower lip gently in her teeth. His breath caught in his throat. Of their own accord his hands reached for her waist, pulling her closer. She came easily, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her lips suddenly more demanding, her mouth soft and sweet.

A long kiss, leaving him gasping and no longer confused. She took his hand from her waist and settled it lightly on her breast. He could feel the firm nipple pressing through her T-shirt. Cupping her breast, he gently rubbed his thumb in light circles, feeling the nipple harden and her breath catch. He slid his hand under her shirt, her skin smooth and oh-so-silky, his heart was hammering in his chest.

She felt his hesitation, understanding his shyness, knowing all he needed was the tiniest of encouragement. She peeled off her T-shirt and tossed it aside. He stopped breathing for a bare instant, silent and expectant. She flowed back into his arms, her bare skin beneath his hands was exquisite. He kissed her throat, slipping the bra straps from both the muscular shoulders. She moaned softly, encouraging his further exploration. He reached behind her and only fumbled for a moment before releasing the hooks holding the white satin bra in place. Her small, round breasts were firm and the rose pink nipples beckoned to be kissed. He kissed his way across her shoulders, down her chest and took a firm nipple gently in his lips, happy with the soft moans it elicited.

Her hands roamed across his chest and down to the buttons of his jeans, slowly releasing him as he savored the tenderness of her breasts. To his dismay, she pulled away, a teasing smile on her lips. She moved around in front of him, kneeling on the floor in front of him, still smiling. She leaned down and he felt her warm tongue dart out and lick lightly over the tip of his erection. He groaned through clenched teeth. Hot, wet lips slid over him, the tongue toying gently. He was ready to explode from the intensity of the tender touch. His hands ran through the long silky hair, barely able to keep from clenching into tight fists. He could barely breathe.

He looked down at the woman kneeling before him, watching as her mouth slid over him, her hands slipping the jeans from her hips without losing contact or rhythm. Just when he knew he could take no more, her lips pulled gently away and she kissed his stomach. Her hot lips worked their way up his torso, lingering over his sensitive nipple, as she peeled his shirt from his body.

She climbed into his lap, straddling him. Her bare breast pressed against his chest with phenomenal warmth. Her mouth found his, kissing him hard as she guided him inside her. He groaned uncontrollably as he slid deeply into the tight, wet pussy. She rocked slowly, still kissing him. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs finding the pink nipples. He pulled his mouth reluctantly from hers as the allure of her breasts became irresistible.

She continued the slow, deep strokes as his mouth found its objective. The nipple was firm in his mouth as she arched against him, her breath coming faster. Her rhythm increased, until it was nearly in sync with his pounding heart. A groan escaped her lips, matched by his own moaning as he felt himself peaking beyond tolerance. Finally he came explosively, almost painfully as she arched against him, shuddering with her own orgasm. He buried his face between her breasts, gasping as she continued to pulse gently, excruciatingly against him.

She giggled as he begged her to stop, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him happily. "I think the shy thing was just an act to lure me in and take advantage of my sympathetic and giving nature."

So relaxed and temporarily satiated, he couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, works every time."