Changing Lanes

by Vining, Season

  “Whoa. First date and you’re already asking if I want kids?” he teases.

  “Well, at my age it seems like a valid question. In fact, it should probably be included in the preliminary questionnaire I send out before dates.” Lane grins, watching my finger trace the stitched pattern in his leather furniture.

  “I did not receive a questionnaire,” he says, offended. “What’s up with that?”

  I scoot closer now. “That’s right. Marley was supposed to come over and do an in-person interview, but I believe her exact words were ‘Just bone him and get on with it!’”

  We both laugh and he moves toward me, his thigh pressed against my leg. He sets down his drink on the side table and I do the same with my glass. The tension pushes us together and neither one of us can fight it any longer.

  Before I realize what’s happening, Lane has picked me up and set me on his lap. He wraps me in his arms and places soft, sweet kisses along my collarbone and neck. I hum and then giggle as his hair tickles my cheek.

  “Stella,” he says, his breath fanning over my skin. “You smell so good.”

  “You feel so good.” My resistance is quickly fading away. “But I promised myself that I wouldn’t kiss you again until you told me more about yourself.”

  Lane's head whips up, his eyes meeting mine. We are two people, turned on to the point of spontaneous combustion, waiting for someone to lose control. Then, one of his eyebrows lifts higher than the other and a devious grin pulls his lips tight.

  “There are other things to do besides kissing.”

  I swat his shoulder and crawl off of his lap, settling next to him again. “You’re bad,” I say. “Very good at distraction. But so bad.”

  He leans forward and presses his lips to my ear. “You have no idea how bad I can be.” I place my hands on his shoulders, but he scoots away on his own.

  “You’re going to kill me. Seriously, these panties have probably disintegrated by now. But the force is strong with me,” I say, poking him in the chest. “And I will get what I want.”

  “I’d give you anything, Stella. All you have to do is ask.”

  “I know your name is Lane Holder. I know that you’re in overseas investment banking, but I can admit I have no idea what that means. You help Becca with her accounting. And you have an adorable dog who seems to be my biggest fan. You keep strange hours and you’re a runner. Besides our pre-dinner conversation, that is literally everything I know about you.”

  Lane lays his hand across the back of the sofa, resting near my head. He finishes his whiskey and turns to me with a grin. “What else do you want, Stella? What else do you need to know before I can touch you? What information is the key to opening you up?”

  My body ignites at his words, not having an answer and not even wanting one anymore. Questions and thoughts race through my mind and I try to pluck one from the space and ask it, but nothing comes. We are in a standoff, one that he will win any second now.

  “Were you born and raised in Grace?”

  “Yes. My granny lives on the other side of town. I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else,” he says. “And you? Born in Savannah?”

  “Born and raised. And married and miserable and cheated on and betrayed.”

  He nods. “So, you’re saying that you might have some trust issues?”

  My eyes meet his and I have to say I’d never thought about that before, but he’s right. It’s why I’m so cautious with him. It’s why I’m holding back when I want to dive right in. “Maybe.”

  “Noted. Next?” His gaze is intense as he challenges me, but I don’t back down.

  “Tell me something about yourself that would surprise me,” I say.

  Lane looks away, his eyes landing on the door to the garage and back to me. “I own a completely restored 1955 Harley Davidson Panhead.”

  My eyes grow wide and my imagination runs wild. “Wow. A Bobber or FLH?”

  It’s Lane’s turn to be shocked. “You know motorcycles?” he asks.

  “I know engines. Grew up working on them with my dad. He specialized in anything vintage.”

  “It’s FLH. Former police department bike. Only one of 1004 ever produced.”

  “So you really are a biker?” I ask. My heart races as I imagine him on that bike with me behind him, flying down a winding mountain road.

  He shakes his head. “I’m not in a gang or anything,” he says chuckling. “But I do ride with a couple of friends. When the weather is warmer, of course.”

  “Of course,” I repeat. “Can I please see it?”

  He hops up and holds out a hand. I let him pull me up and guide me to the garage. When he flips on the light, the fluorescents flicker for a few seconds before illuminating the space. The garage is clean and organized with the bike covered next to his truck.

  Excitement builds, every muscle in my body is tense waiting for the reveal. Lane whips the cover off and I have never seen a more beautiful machine. My steps carry me toward it and without even asking permission, my fingers slide over the beautiful chrome.

  “A two-cylinder, pushrod V-twin, with 74 cubic inch displacements and a 3-speed transmission?” I ask, running my eyes over the entire bike, taking in every little detail.

  “Yes,” Lane says, his voice low and slow. “God, it’s sexy listening to you talk engines.” I keep my eyes on the bike, inspecting every inch of this exquisite machine. “Upgraded to progressive shift.”

  “She’s beautiful,” I say, turning to lean against the leather seat. “You’ve found a rare gem.”

  His expression turns from bewilderment to complete lust before my very eyes. “I sure have.”

  He charges toward me, dipping my head back while supporting my neck and kisses me until I’m breathless. Lane’s large hands slide over my hips to the hem of my dress. He fists the material and slowly raises it, until we have to separate to remove it. He lifts me and sets me down on the leather seat of his bike, his hands resting on either side of my thighs as his chest heaves in sync with mine. Our eyes hold each other in place and I am desperate for more of him.

  “You are stunning,” he says.

  His hands move along my bare skin to my back where he unclasps my bra like a professional. It falls loose and I pull it from my body. Lane’s arms support my back as he leans forward and attaches his mouth to one of my nipples. I let out a gasp as my hands fly to his hair to keep him there. I throw my head back and close my eyes at the sensation. The ends of my hair brush along his hands as his fingers grip my back tighter. My whole body comes alive, alight with a new kind of energy. It ebbs and flows through each part of me before settling in my center.

  Lane’s tongue and teeth work me over before switching to the other breast. I sigh when the cool air hits my wet skin. He turns us, throwing one of my legs over the bike as he straddles it facing me. Lane hovers over me, never removing his mouth from my skin.

  Just when I think I’ll climax from his mouth on my breasts alone, he pushes my wet panties to the side and drags his thumb up my slit. I gasp when two fingers push inside me and his thumb presses against my clit. Every time he slides out and back in, I let out a whimper at the pure ecstasy of it. My back arches when Lane increases his pace and I feel like I am flying. I am on the edge of something beautiful and amazing when he leans forward and whispers the words that send me flying over the edge.

  “Come for me, Stella. Give me what I want.”

  I let out a deep moan as an orgasm rips through my body. Every muscle pulls tight. My breath stays caught in my lungs as I ride out the most intense thing I’ve ever experienced. His fingers keep moving, keep pushing until I beg him to stop.

  He places a grinning kiss on my lips. A soft and chaste kiss, that makes me want to worship at the altar of Lane Holder. I slap a hand to my forehead and smile so wide at the garage ceiling, I don’t feel like I’ll ever come down from this high. My heart beats wildly.

  “That was…” I say, but can’t find the words.

  “Be
autiful,” Lane finishes. He holds himself up over me, his eyes never leaving mine. “I want to see that over and over again. I swear I’d never get tired of watching that.” I sigh and kiss his lips again. “And everytime I get to see that, get to watch you become so vulnerable and trusting, you belong to me a little bit more. Regardless of your past.”

  His words seek out the cold and frigid parts of my abused heart and work to heal them over. I can feel his hardness against my leg and I reach for him, but he stops me.

  “Tonight was about you, Stella. I wanted you to know that just because you’ve only been with your ex doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of so much more. Now, if you want to move this to my bedroom, I’d be happy to spend the next several hours making sure you believe that. But if you’re not ready, then I can certainly take care of this on my own.”

  My mind and body war with what I want and what I think is right. It is a hard fought battle that my head ends up winning.

  “You’re right,” I say, sitting up, pressing my bare chest to his and wrapping my arms around him. “I’m not ready. Maybe I’m old school, and I know we’ve already messed around, but sex is such a big step in a relationship. That doesn’t mean tonight wasn’t incredible.”

  I inhale deeply, getting to know the scent of him, and me, and us mixed together. There’s a light practically radiating from my skin. I feel revived from my past and given new eyes. I can see again.

  “I know,” Lane says, giving me a warm smile that reaches his baby blues. “I’m going to head to the bathroom,” he says, climbing off the bike. “Feel free to come back inside when you’re ready. It’s pretty chilly out here.”

  While Lane is gone, it gives me a chance to put my bra back on and slide back into my dress. Though, my body is so warm right now, I find it stifling. I let myself back into the house and we meet in the foyer. I can see he is still hard.

  “That looks uncomfortable. Are you sure I can’t help?”

  He shakes his head and takes me into his arms. “Stella, when you’re ready, and I get you where I want you, it’s going to be a long,” he pauses and places a kiss on my forehead. “Exhausting,” another kiss on my nose. “Fulfilling night,” he finishes with one last kiss on my cheek.

  I smile and blush at his words, not understanding how he can still make me feel shy even after he’s seen everything. “Well, I better go, then.”

  Lane walks me down the sidewalk, leaving me with one more kiss on my front porch. I unlock my door, but wait until he’s back inside his house before going in. Once inside, I lock the door and lean against it. So many emotions, thoughts, and feelings bubble up inside me that I let out a shouting kind of laugh until it echoes through my home.

  This is your new life, Stella Locke. Welcome to it.

  11

  I PULL MY jacket closed and stuff my hands into the pockets. Pipe organ music plays from somewhere, but it’s not alone in the many melodies surrounding us. An old rock classic blasts from one ride while game peddlers shout that you can win the giant stuffed bear for only two dollars. Children run past holding balloons and cotton candy. The scent of cider, funnel cake, and hay combine to represent the very definition of fall.

  Marley and I walk along the dirt fairway with no real destination. For now, I take in all the sights and sounds, the people around me lit by the glow of white strung lights above. It’s so nice to experience an actual fall season that I just want to soak it all in.

  I spoke to Brea this morning, filling her in on my first official date with Lane, leaving out the intimate details. Some things a girl has got to keep for herself. She teased me for “hooking up” with another guy named Lane, but I assured her this one is different. Brea told me about her latest ultrasound and how everything is right on track. I get an ache in my chest thinking about missing out on these big family moments, and how I won’t be there for the birth of my nephew. She says she understands, but I think it hurts us both.

  “I say we grab a warm apple cider and hit the Scrambler until we puke,” Marley says, her eyes lingering on an attractive carnie shouting about his balls. To be fair, the game he’s hosting is all about balls, but his intention is not missed.

  “I’m not sure if that’s how you define a good time, but I’m thinking no.”

  “Come on,” she says, linking her arm through mine. “We’ve made our initial lap, now it’s time to take action. I want a caramel apple and a corn dog. Could I be more American?” she asks with a giggle.

  “I could go for something warm. I’ve never had cider before though. Is there hot chocolate?”

  She stops in place, jerking me to a halt alongside her. “You do not come to a fall festival and not have cider. It’s like a rule or something. Just chalk it up to another new experience.”

  I sigh and sweep my hair from my face. “Well, every other new experience you’ve talked me into has left me twisting my ankle, tied up naked in a dress, stuck in the grass like a lawn ornament, and being cut in half by a thong.”

  “You forgot ‘getting it on with your neighbor on his vintage Harley.’ You’re welcome.”

  “And how are you responsible for that?” I ask.

  “Well, I did find you that house. And you may have never met him if you weren’t neighbors.” I shrug, giving her credit. “This will be another good experience, I promise,” she says, tugging on my elbow.

  I surrender and follow her to the nearest cider stand where she orders two and asks if they’ve got anything to spike it with. The greasy man behind the plastic window gives her a wink and pours something from a flask he pulls from his pocket into one cup.

  “None for me, thanks,” I insist. The man shrugs and hands over our drinks while Marley pays. I take a sip and hum as the warm golden liquid slides down my throat and settles in my empty stomach. “Mmm, that’s good.”

  “I told you,” Marley sings.

  Just as I turn to go, something bumps into my shin. I let out a little yelp and look down to find Chap wearing an argyle sweater and smiling up at me with his tongue hanging out. I search the fairway for his owner and see Lane walking toward us. He’s wearing a white knit sweater and dark jeans, looking like he just stepped out of a catalog. His smile warms me twice as much as the cider.

  “Stella,” he says, leaning down to place a kiss on my cheek. “Marley,” he greets with a nod. “I was hoping you’d get a chance to check out our most anticipated event of the year.”

  “Really?” Marley asks. “I thought it was the Lake Bash during the summer.”

  Lane shrugs. “Well, I guess if you’re looking to get drunk and get laid.”

  “Ding, ding, ding,” Marley shouts, raising her hand. I laugh at her enthusiasm.

  “I’ve just had a taste of my first apple cider ever,” I admit.

  Lane’s eyebrows raise and he grins. “Well? Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

  “And more.” Our eyes linger on each other, both unable to hide smiles that reminisce about our last evening spent together. “Things in this town have a way of surprising me.” Lane’s smile grows as Chap runs circles around all of us.

  “Oh, Jesus. Would you two just shag and get it over with? This smoldering business has got me feeling randy and I’m not even involved!” Chap barks at a clown on stilts as we all laugh and try to sweep away the sexual tension. “Look, I’m not trying to make this a threesome, so I can do my own thing if—”

  “No,” Lane and I say in unison.

  “Just stay,” I tell her. “We can all hang out.”

  “Okay,” she says, swallowing down most of her cider. “But things get any more tense between you two, I’m bailing.”

  “Deal,” I say.

  We head down the row of games, Lane insisting that he could win any of them easily, but they’re all just ripoffs. “The basketball rims are bent, but you can’t see it from here,” he says, pointing to one booth. “And half those bottles are glued down.” He points to another.

  “Were you a carnie in your former l
ife?” I ask, sipping my cider and walking between Lane and Marley. Chap sticks to the outside of our procession, stopping to sniff every pole or piece of dropped food.

  “Nah. Just in high school. I got upset one day and ran away. Literally joined the circus,” he says with a shrug. I check his face for seriousness, but he gives nothing away. “Traveled with the show for a year before tucking tail and coming back home. I got to see most of the country, actually.”

  “You’re full of shit,” Marley says.

  I laugh. “Are you serious?”

  He finally grins, his eyes sparking with amusement. “Totally serious. Hooked up with the Bearded Lady for a while, but was jealous of her facial hair since I hadn’t hit puberty yet.”

  Marley falls out laughing while Lane bumps my shoulder with his. “Bearded Lady, huh?” I ask. “That’s stiff competition.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t like her at first, but she grew on me.”

  With that, we all burst into a fit of laughter. Chap barks just so he’s not left out. “You are crazy,” I say, grinning up at him.

  “Crazy for you,” he whispers, planting a kiss on my lips this time.

  “Ugh,” Marley groans. “You guys are giving me a toothache, you're so sweet. Romance is not dead, my friends.”

  “Speaking of cliches,” Lane says, sweeping his hand toward the ferris wheel. “Would you like to join me?” he asks.

  I eye the ride and push down my small fear of heights. At least it’s not one of those old rusty things that look like a bench of death with a little bar to hold you in. This one has a round bucket with a door that closes and an umbrella shaped cover up top.

  “Of course.” I swallow down the last of my cider and toss the cup into a nearby bin. “Marley, you coming?”

  “No, love. I’ll stay down here and keep an eye on this guy,” she says, bending down to scratch Chap.

  “Thanks,” Lane says before grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the short line.

  While we wait for our turn to get loaded up, he does not let go of my hand. His palm engulfs my hand, the heat traveling up my arm and settling where I want him most. After a few minutes, we are loaded into a purple bucket. I slide in next to Lane and he throws his arm around the back of the seat and my shoulders.