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Simply Red (fm:voyeurism, 4361 words)

Author: Prybar
Added: Apr 03 2024Views / Reads: 1858 / 1159 [62%]Story vote: 9.67 (12 votes)
I was going to take photographs of my new car. Shannon brought along her body to help
 


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Women have it; men want it.....

Let the negotiations begin.

I did not expect her to casually slip off that black leather vest and her top so she could pose next to my car topless. But I had to admit, she looked good.....

I had returned to the old motel parking lot. The sun was more than warm, so I parked the car in the shade of the largest tree overhanging the pavement. The murmur of fast water surging through the steep walled canyon just beyond the fence told of spring snow melt high up in the San Juan Mountains, one state to the east. This was background music for me as I wiped off the detailing spray, and the dust it had collected, with a lint free cloth. I had picked up some dust and splatted some bugs on the drive up, and I wanted to make the car as pretty as possible. In few hours I would drive across the river and back up the hill to the view point. I had promised Sally that I would take pictures of the car, at the viewpoint, with the red sandstone towers and formations in the background, as a sunset warmed the light. And a promise is a promise.

Squeezing the lever on the spray bottle of detailing fluid made a slight squeak sound each time. So two sounds, with the river noise. Not a chaos of sound. Took the motorcycles to add that chaos to my day.

They came down the hill, crossed the old bridge over the river and then filed into the motel parking lot. Singles and pairs. Five and shortly later four more. I knew there would be about 15 eventually. If it was like last time.... The pickup would arrive last. All were V-twins of various origins. Touring bikes rather than choppers. Most were darn pretty. Rumble and roar, and then the loping idle as they parked the beasts, backing up against the curb, only feet before the fence and the river canyon.

Two years earlier we had spent the night at this motel for the first time. An older place, it was still quite comfortable, and ya can't beat the location. We drove the Corvette that time. Every previous visit to the area we were a truck pulling the travel trailer and thus drove right past this motel. Driving along that scenic highway, with its curves and hills and paucity of gendarmes was more fun in the Corvette than the truck. So I brought along the new car for this tour. It is even more fun. The new cars makes the Corvette seem like a slug. And the exhaust sounds will melt your bones. More fun, even than the Corvette

Sally left before the new car was finished. Heart disease can be mercifully fast. She told me, days before she died, that I needed to keep living. I had a life to finish. That was her deal for those decades, working beside me, living beside me, suffering and celebrating beside me. I was the boss when we were working and then we kinda switched when we retired. She was smarter than me all that time.That worked. We settled in to have fun right before the god damned politicians tried to ruin our lives with their silly virus. Cost us a lot of the time we had left. We were finally back to living, waiting two years for my dream car to be finished, going out to play.....And then suddenly, I was alone. I wasn't sure I could do it, but I wasn't going to let her down.

I had time to kill at the motel before I would go out for photographs. In my room the small ice chest I brought along held a steak and the cheese. Late afternoon, I set up the two burner propane stove on one of the picnic tables that overlooked the river canyon, and dropped the steak into my old cast iron skillet. The faded blue plastic storage box held the rest of my kitchen. I laid thick chunks of cheese on side one after turning side two to face the heat. It would be melted just right when the meat was ready. Looking up, I saw a familiar face.

The guy leading the motorcycle tour on his own Harley remembered me from two years earlier. Joe was easy to talk with. He led a few of these tours every year. He had friends, family, and business contacts back in Asia where he was born, so lining up guys for the tours was not a problem. In between he drove his own semi truck to make the main part of his livelihood, but he loved bringing men over from Asia to show them some of the neat parts of his new country. And he still spoke the

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