Oh Lord, Help Me Keep My Panties on - By Lynda Burton Page 0,77
cut-off jeans with a million holes and a raggedy tee shirt on that barely covered my breast. My hair was under an old faded bandana, and I had on my old ass run down sneakers. Hell, I was in my house, and I was finishing up the final touches to the dining room. They followed me through the living room and into the kitchen. I offered them to take a seat and walked to the sink. As I washed my hands, I could see Nia’s and Max’s reflection in the window. Max was looking me up and down while giving Nia a nod of approval. I turned around and said. I’m glad that the two of you stopped by. I’ve been working for the past couple of hours and just finished and thirsty as hell. Then I offered them something cool and refreshing to drink. In unison the both said yea! I turned around and quickly whipped up a pitcher of my famous lemonade. Nia excused herself from the kitchen table and checked out my paintjob in the dining room as she pretended to make an important call. As I pulled the lemons from the refrigerator, Max sat quietly and watched me squeeze the lemons. Say, Haley. You’re going to make lemonade from scratch? He asked. I certainly am. I bragged. Damn. I didn’t think anyone made stuff like that from scratch anymore. Everything now is concentrate, or some other shit like that, that’s interesting Max commented.
Max was attractive but not really my type. But there was some sort of attraction. Max is about six feet -two, thin, no I take that back, he’s skinny as hell, bald, light skinned with round eyes and had one hell of a knock out smile. After I finished adding all the ingredients, I poured him a glass. He took a long sip and smiled. Damn, that’s good. In fact that’s great! We were both a little more relaxed and I sat down and started talking. Max was interesting, I must admit, the more we talked, the more I liked the guy. I dismissed the thought of Max being anything but a mere acquaintance, he’s not my type, I thought to myself. Then it came to me, like a light bulb going off in my brain. Maybe I’d have better luck with men if I changed up my standards from the normal mold. I thought. Yea, maybe that’s it! I’m always attracted to those tall, dark, muscular, well built, handsome, deep voiced men. So maybe if I change the blueprint I might get favorable results. “So, Nia tells me, you’re interested in buying a motorcycle,” Max asked. I looked at Max with a devilish grin. Yeah, I replied. I plan on buying one before the end of spring. The only thing is, I don’t know much about them,” I replied. Max reeled back in his chair and sat up then replied. “Well, if you don’t mind I might be of some help to you. In fact, there’s a bike show in Manhattan at the Javits Center this weekend, if you’re not busy maybe we can go together. There will be all types of bikes to choose from, sport bikes, cruisers, sport touring bikes, you name it,” he said in a sexy voice. So you have any idea as to what type you’re interested in? Max asked. No I don’t I replied. Well, how about it? Is it a date? Max inquired. “Yes, I’d like that, thanks. I have the weekend off so you have to let me know what day is good for you, and it’s a date,” I responded. Just then Nia walked back into the kitchen and joined us at the table. “So what have the two of you been talking about?” she asked with a sly grin.
Max filled her in on our conversation, and our plans for the bike show in the city. After knocking off the rest of the lemonade, Nia insisted that I put away the paint cans and to take a ride with Max. Max agreed and was thrilled when I said yes. “But you have to give me about an hour. I have to wash and put away the paint, plus I have to take a shower,” I stated. “It’s a deal,” Max replied. By the time I dropped Nia off, fill up my tank and stop off at the bike shop for a quick second, that should give you enough time to get yourself ready.