'Cause She's So High Above Me

Uniquely elegant in a world of bad fashion and heavy makeup.

Didn’t have to open her mouth to show she was cultured.

She glided into my store,

Understated suit and a hint of expensive perfume.

She was so far above me, but sitting right across from me.

Unobtainable for a kid from the rows.

I didn’t even bother,

Just acted professional,

But I wanted to be putty in her hands.

I came from low income, but don’t have to act it.

Being a gentleman is a choice.

I held the door for her, rolling out the red carpet.

It was nice to dream, if only for those moments.

Weeks rolled by.A workplace friend pestered me to be his corporate happy hour wingman.

This was not my thing.

He dragged me kicking & grumbling after work.

The trendy spot was packed with office types.

Each more important than the next, or so they said.

The girl he came for couldn’t have cared less.

So I just sipped in the shadows,

Until I saw her.

Couldn’t believe my luck – the elegant one again.

Seizing the moment,

I walked over.

Hello miss.

She smiled lavishly;

My name is Laura.

She fired the first shot.My friend said you have a penchant for trouble,

And a trail of crashed motorcycles.

Well, we all have hobbies.

What do you do for fun, Laura?

I work in the financial field,

Lucrative, yes, but is it fun?

Well,  I’m an equestrian; horses are my passion.

Really? I know a few girls who do barrel racing.

I bet you do, Mr. Lawless.

So, what type of horseplay do you engage in?

She smiles, I prefer dressage.

So I’ll see you at Devon?

You attend Devon?

Now I’m wondering what type of saddle I’d see you on.

I’m comfortable with either.

To me motorcycles are mechanical horses.

I shared my favorite  T. E. Lawrence quote.

“A skittish motorcycle with a touch of blood

in it is better than all the riding animals on earth.”

Have you been motorcycling yet?

We swapped numbers as she emptied her cosmo.

A few days of pleasant conversation followed.She had to be at the stables Saturday morning, but maybe lunch?

We agreed on another trendy cafe.

I rode with a spare helmet, just in case.

The only motorcycle in the parking lot.

My leather jacket contrasting with the sea of blue blazers and polos.

I could feel their eyes on me,

But they vanished once I locked eyes with her.

She smiled warmly as I sat,

And our conversation picked up where we left off.

What was a squid like me doing with such a lady?

She was so much more than good looking.

She agreed to a ride.It was erotic just helping her into the helmet.

It was no longer words across a table.

Our hands touched as I looked into her eyes, cinching her chin strap.

My plan was simple.

A casual slow ride to win her trust.

We glided peacefully across town,

But a slowpoke MGB blocked us right before the scenic part by the river.

My monsters took over.

I dropped down to 2^nd, squeezing my elbows to pin her arms.

The whisper of my sport bike turned into a shrieking frenzy as the revs soared.

Blinding acceleration in the blink of an eye.

We ripped by the MG, front wheel in the air.

Upshifting for a plunge downhill on the narrow two-lane road.

I stray to the oncoming lane for a better line into the right-hander at the bottom.

Never rolling off the throttle.

The high intensity rush of maximum lean angle.

We ran way over the ton on a killing spree of speed,

devouring the river road as it snaked right and left.

And finally the bridge at the end of our loop.

I popped out of the bubble and squeezed on the brakes.

Her body squashed against mine.

I rolled into the coffee shop parking lot,

helped her out of her helmet.

She reached into her bag, pulling out a cigarette.

I noticed her hands were shaking, so I lit it for her.

She exhaled. Well, they warned me about you.

I offered coffee, but she said she needed something stronger.

I have a bottle at my place, would you like to come over?