Logan Rides Again

Like a bunch of other folks I got laid off when the economy turned sour a few years ago. I scoured the job prospects thoroughly for a year or more but there was absolutely nothing in my field for a guy of my experience level, so I decided to embark on a ride around the country. I had money saved up, wasn't in a marriage or even a serious relationship, so what the heck. I'd have a good time for a time while the economy foundered and then return when things got better.

So I got a renter for my home, put most of my stuff in storage, packed what I could on my Harley and struck out. I had no itinerary or schedule, merely followed the front wheel.

There were a few truck stops and similar places along the way where there would be some offers from a local gal, most of them looking like they wanted to get the heck out of wherever that place was, but none of them my type, if you know what I mean.

Then there was this one place where I stopped for a few days due to some lousy weather. Now, I can manage riding in the rain, but these were torrential downpours for days on end, so I decided not to fight it, to get a room and hole up for a few days of hot showers, catching up on emails and pay some bills online, and take it easy. I talked the manager into a room that was specially designed for handicap access with extra wide doors and more space inside the room. His business wasn't exactly booming and I think he welcomed the few extra bucks for that room. And for me it allowed me to roll my Harley up into the ground floor room for safe keeping. There was a diner less than a hundred yards away and a convenience store there too, so I could walk for some food and snacks.

The food in the diner wasn't the best cuisine I'd ever had, but I've eaten a whole lot worse and paid a whole lot more for it. I wasn't ever in a hurry and always took a booth near the back, and eating there three times a day for a few days I got on good speaking terms with the waitresses. The night waitress was maybe ten to fifteen years older than me but always had a warm smile. I noticed that with some of the locals and the crude crowd her smile and demeanor were obviously forced, but when she came to my booth she always seemed at ease and genuine. I would linger well past my meal and if the crowd had thinned she would sometimes take a seat for a few minutes to rest her feet and chat a bit.

Stella was her name; she'd married before getting out of high school due to being pregnant to a guy who thereafter made the least of himself. He had a drinking problem, often got mean, and almost always fell asleep on the couch, drunk, well before Stella got home from the diner. She hated her life there, but was too afraid to leave. Besides, she said, she had no place to go or any money to get there. I think more than anything she really appreciated someone just talking to her, listening to her, and not trying to get into her pants within the first five minutes.

Not that getting into her pants, and her shirt for that matter, hadn't crossed my mind a few hundred times. Stella might have been older than me, had premature wrinkles and gray hair, but I suspected there was still a tiger within. So it didn't surprise or disappoint me on the second night there that while sitting at the booth she reached across the table and took my hand just before standing to resume her duties. When I looked up into her rich brown eyes there was a twinkle in them, and a warm sense that she was reaching out to me with more than just her hand.

Through the rest of that shift Stella would drop back to my booth whenever she got a few minutes free. Each time she seemed anxious to tell me something, or to ask me something. Finally, about a half hour before their closing time I had decided it was time for me to leave and I started to slide from the booth. Stella quickly came back and asked if I were leaving, I confirmed, and she then asked me to do something for her.

"Do you mind stopping by the mart across the street and pick up a couple of beers for me?"

"Sure, Stella, but you want me to bring them back here?" I really didn't know what she wanted, and figured she wanted a couple of brews to swig down before getting home to face her drunken husband.

"No, take them to your room. I'll be by in about an hour. OK?" I agreed, told her the room number, and left with a puzzled feeling. I really didn't know what this was about, since none of our conversations had been the flirting kind, no suggestive talk, nothing. I still figured she just wanted something to make the return home a bit more bearable. So I walked to the mart, got a six pack of their best selection, grabbed some microwave popcorn, some peanuts and pretzels, and walked to my room. Thankfully there was a small fridge in the room to keep the beer nice and cold, and a microwave for the popcorn or whatever.

After kicking off my boots, turning on the TV to an old western and popping the top on a beer I'd about forgotten about Stella coming by. When an hour had passed I figured she was a no-show and I went for my second brew. I was scanning through the listings on the TV when there as a knock on the door. It honestly startled me as by then I'd forgotten Stella for real. When I opened the door Stella made her way right on in.

"Hey, cowboy, I'll bet you thought....whoa, what the hell?" It took her about a second to realize that there was a motorcycle sitting in my room, rolled back towards the back.

"It's safer in here than parked outside. You mind?"

"Hell, no. You gotta promise to take me for a ride before you leave out of here though." A huge grin spread across both of our faces before I turned to retrieve a cold beer from the mini fridge for her. When I turned back around I came face to face with Stella and the grin on her face had turned to one of lust. Her eyes half closed she pushed her body against mine, grabbed my shirt in her hands, raised her face to meet mine and offered her lips to mine in a gentle caress. As I began to kiss her back the passion that had built within her began to release, and her kiss became bolder, deeper, almost like she wanted to devour my lips. Her tongue thrust between my lips and began to dance with mine as her arms encircled my waist, her hands sliding down to grab two handfuls of my ass. I pressed my hips against her, with her hips meeting mine with equal eagerness as her hands then began to claw at my back through my shirt. This wasn't the embrace and kiss of a woman accustomed to making love, but more like the hormonal, lust driven passion of a teenager in the back seat of a sedan. I'd not been kissed like that since my school days.

Just as quickly as the embrace and kiss had started, Stella broke free and pushed back. At that point I instantly figured she'd come to some senses of duty and fidelity, would apologize for the action and make a hasty retreat out of there. I was wrong.

"Logan, I know you might not believe this, but you're only the second man I've ever kissed. I ain't never been with another man before in my life except my husband, and he's not exactly the romantic type these days. There's just something about you that makes me want you." Actually, I could believe it, all of it. It certainly explained the schoolgirl ways of her attack on me. I halfway expected this to turn me off, for my mouth to come out with something about her being a good girl and that she should go, but that never happened. In fact, my body was reacting like a schoolboy again.

"Stella, you deserve good things in life. You're a beautiful lady, hard working, a good mother and wife, and very desirable and sexy. Any man would be very fortunate to have you for a partner." Her head began to lift up again, a slight grin returning to her face, and I began to slowly move towards her, to give her the choice of whether to go or stay. Then it all stopped.

The moment was instantly lost when we heard a loud banging on the door to the room next door, followed by some guy obviously drunk yelling for Stella to come out of that room. He was agitated, for sure, and was referring to her as a bitch, a whore and worse. A look of fear swept across Stella's face and she began to move towards the door.

"No. Don't go out there. Go into the bathroom, and be totally silent. Don't come out, don't make a sound. Understand?" She was visibly shaking by now but nodded her head affirmatively as I guided her towards the bathroom. I really didn't know what to expect if the drunken bastard began pounding on my door, so I prepared for the worst. I popped open the saddlebag on the Harley and slipped on the shoulder holster, then checked the magazine of the 44 Magnum before slipping it into the holster. By then the noise next door had silenced and I could hear voices discussing the mistaken room. Sure enough, it was only moments later that a pounding came to my door and a shout for Stella.

I glanced out the peephole and saw a slob of a character standing there, weaving a bit from the alcohol and looking mad as a hornet. He was a half foot shorter than me, but his beer gut allowed him to outweigh me by a fair margin. Otherwise he was out of shape and drunk. I didn't see any weapon, so I knew I would be in charge of the situation. I eased the bolt off and stood to the side as I eased the door open in case the drunk decided to kick it open. I could see him standing there looking into the room but before he could say another word I stepped squarely into the door and stood there looking straight into his eyes.

"You got a problem, partner?" He was taken aback a bit as I stood there towering over him. Now, I'm not a huge guy but I spend my fair share of time in the gym and compared to the guy standing outside my room door, I was by far the physical superior and he had obviously come to that conclusion too.

"Where's Stella?" I could see his eyes scanning the room, his head tilting from side to side and seemingly not really wanting to look me in the eyes. I gave him just long enough to see that she wasn't in sight, spy my motorcycle in the room, and eyeball the holstered revolver.

"OK, now it's time for you to leave peacefully, or with my help. Your choice." He didn't want to confront me, for sure, and I'm sure his little alcohol infused mind was all over the place, but he made the better choice. A grunt, wave of his hand and he turned to walk away. I stood and watched as he climbed into a rattletrap old car and drove out of the parking lot. When I had shut the door and turned back to the room I saw Stella standing meekly by the bathroom door with a dazed look on her face.

"He'll kill me when I get home, I just know it. I've seen him in these moods before. He probably went to the diner, saw I wasn't there, and spied my car parked around back." She was looking at me with a frightened look, like she was afraid to move from that spot. Before I could say anything she spoke again. "You've got to take me on that ride now. Tonight. And never come back. Please."

"Stella, what's wrong? Are your kids OK?" She was clearly terrified of going back.

"The kids are fine. They're at my sister's. I can call her and explain. Please help me." What was I going to do?

"Stella, are you sure you want to run away? I can take you to a safe house, but you barely know me." I got her to sit and tell me more of what was happening, domestically. She pulled up her shirt to just below her bra and showed me the bruises and the old scars from years past. Yeah, sure, I could have taken advantage of her right then and there I suppose, but she deserved much better. We talked more and I came to realize I had to get her out of there safely, so I devised a plan where I'd take the motorcycle out and ride out alone. If no one followed me I'd circle back and get her, then take her on into the city. We'd get a room then tomorrow I'd take her to a safe house for battered women where she'd be safe.

About an hour later I wheeled the big Harley back out of the room then shut and locked the door behind me. Stella was to wait with all the lights out until I returned. I cranked up and headed out towards the highway with no cars in sight. Out onto the highway I rode slow enough to verify that there was no one following me, then turned around and headed back to the motel. This time I pulled up to the room, got off and knocked on the door. Stella came out without a word and climbed onto the buddy seat of the Harley. As I pulled out of the motel parking lot she glanced back to see if anyone was following, something I'd already confirmed in my mirrors.

The late night air was cool and damp as we sped down the interstate. I had on my leathers and had only a sweatshirt to offer Stella for additional warmth. She was shielded from most of the wind by my body, and she hugged up close to my back for what warmth she could gain. I knew her hands were cold, so I took off my gloves and gave them to her, too.

We pulled into a motel a few hours before dawn, I got a room around on the backside of the building, and told Stella to go in, take a hot shower to warm up, then get some sleep. She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek before doing as I suggested. I pulled a chair from the room out onto the sidewalk in front of the door so I could watch over my motorcycle the rest of the night; just as a precaution should anyone have followed.

By morning I'd already found out the location of the local women's shelter from the desk clerk, telling him that I was taking my sister there to get away from the jerk she'd married. I guess he bought it since I was out walking around and she was still in the room.

Stella was like a new woman when I knocked on the room door with breakfast from the buffet the motel had set up. She was bright eyed, though cautions to look around every now and then, and told me she'd already had a long conversation with her sister and that her kids would be fine for as long as they needed to stay there. She devoured the breakfast, thanking me the whole time for being so sweet to her, for being her "knight riding shiny armor" and rescuing her from her misery.

"You've been so nice to me, I feel that I owe you so much. How can I repay you?" There was that grin again, but this wouldn't be right.

"Stella, let's get you settled down at the shelter, and we'll settle up later. OK?" She feigned a pout, but smiled as I shed my shirt, then frowned as I turned to head for the shower. The bathroom was small and stuffy, so I left the door cracked a bit as I showered to let some steam out, and a couple of times I thought I saw Stella peeking through the door. Shoot, I didn't mind a bit, to be honest. Truth is, I wanted to take her to bed and spend the bulk of the day there, but in her present state that wouldn't be right. So I dressed and did the right thing.

As I left Stella at the shelter she walked to me as I was sitting on the cycle. "Thank you, Logan, for being here for me. No man has ever treated me with the care and thought you've shown me these past few days, and I'll never forget you." Then she leaned down and kissed me. Not the frenzied kiss of the night before, but a slow, tender kiss of a woman that treasures her lover and wants to treat him affectionately.

As she stepped back from the cycle I hit the starter button and life again breathed into the v-twin engine. Stella handed me a folded note just as I was about to slip the transmission into gear and told me to read it later. I noticed a tear sliding down her cheek as she turned to walk back into the shelter.

After stopping to fill the gas tank I hit the interstate and didn't stop until it was well past noon. I pulled off at an exit with gas and food, taking the time to stretch, fuel up and grab some lunch. I'd almost forgotten about the folded note but when I took off my leather jacket in the diner and stuffed my glove into the pocket I found it, and it said:

Logan,

Thank you for all you've done for me. I know you'll be on the road for a while, but I'll text you with my new phone number. If you ever want to see me again, all you have to do is call and I'll be there.

Love,

Stella

From time to time I texted just to let her know where I was at the time. Several months later when I returned home I texted that too. Two days later I had a package delivered to my house. It was a copy of a divorce and a picture of Stella and her two kids standing in front of their new home. In the picture the kids were holding a banner that read, "Thank you, Logan" and both kids had signed the photo and invited me to come visit them.

It didn't take long to pack the Harley.