When Melissa's car started crapping out, one of her co-workers recommended Performance Options, a local tuner shop. Dave assured her that they were good. Melissa dreaded dealing with auto mechanics, knowing that a female had no chance to keep from getting screwed at a car repair shop. She dropped it off and told Mike, the owner, that she had to get to work. She was prepared to take the bus, but Mike offered to drive her.
Mike called her that afternoon and told her that it was just a sensor that had gone bad, and they had replaced it. Around 30 for the part, 25 for the labor. Melissa couldn't believe it. They could have said anything, she wouldn't have known the difference. She had to work late, so she picked it up the next day on her way to work. After she paid, Mike asked her if she wanted to take a ride on his bike with him the next weekend.
"I don't have weekends off, but I'd love to take a ride sometime," she said.
She had moved to Vancouver two months ago, straight out of culinary school, and taken a job with a top notch chef. She loved her work, which was good, since she spent so many hours working. But she hadn't yet made friends and knew nobody outside work.
"When's your day off?" he asked.
"Tomorrow," she said.
One of the advantages of being boss was being able to take time off, so they made plans to meet. She drove over to the shop at 9:00, and they set off on his Harley to take the Sea to Sky Highway from Vancouver to Whistler. After a couple of hours, he pulled off the highway just past Squamish and drove up into the hills. He found a scenic overlook and parked. When Melissa got off the bike, her legs still vibrated. She had never ridden more than a few kilometers on a bike before, and Mike's was seriously powerful. She felt like she'd been at sea for a month. Her ears buzzed and her legs were unsteady.
"What is this place? It's beautiful," Melissa said.
"It's called High Falls Creek. We'll walk up a ways, but be careful. Don't lean over the edge, people have died that way."
She got dizzy halfway up, and they went back down.
"God, this is gorgeous," she said.
Mike pulled some bottles of water and power bars out of his bag. He laid a blanket on the ground and they rested a while. Melissa looked at him as he got the stuff out. He was older; maybe thirty two or three. He had long, blond hair and colorful tattoos. He was tall and thin and wore blue jeans and a denim long sleeve shirt. She could definitely see having sex with him.
As they rested, he asked her about her job, her family back home, her friends, her childhood and her dreams. She found it easy to talk with him. His blue eyes looked into hers as he talked, and he was an attentive listener. They gathered up the debris from their snack and loaded the bike up, then got back on the road.
By the time they got to Whistler, they had put on every bit of clothing they had. Even though it was one of the warmest summers on record for B.C., it felt cold riding through the mountains. They had a great meal at a fabulous restaurant in Whistler, then turned around and headed home. By the time they got back, Melissa was a confirmed "motorcycle mama". She loved holding on to Mike's abs as they leaned into curves at 88 kilometers per hour. She had never felt anything as sensuous as a 350 kilogram machine with 90 horsepower humming between her legs. Mike had told her the stock engine produced less than 70 horse, but he'd made a few mods. His tuner shop specialized in cars, but his passion was bikes.
Mike took her to his house when they got back, and they went straight to his bedroom. She fell into his arms and they kissed passionately as he undressed her. She was more than ready, but he made her wait for twenty, then thirty minutes as he explored her body through the most incredible foreplay she'd ever experienced. After he had kissed every bit of her skin for fifteen minutes, he dropped between her knees and licked her pussy, over and over, until she had an orgasm. Men had gone down on her before, for a brief time, but never had she had a climax solely from the tongue of a man before. She had never felt so worshiped in her life, and it was an unbelievably great feeling for her. As she regained her normal breathing, he mounted her from behind, holding her breasts as he pumped his dick into her. He nuzzled the back of her neck as he humped her. His hard dick had been waiting all day to enter her, and when it did, it was all he could do to keep from cumming on her immediately, but he tried to take his time, taking long, slow strokes the length of her cunt. Finally he erupted, filling her. As he began to still, they lay together, mated. She felt wonderful. They didn't say a word for a long time, then finally she held the sheet to her opening as he slipped out, wiping herself off.
They went into the living room. She wore one of his t shirts and her panties. His living room furnishings consisted of two different weight benches, a rack of free weights, an easy chair and an ottoman. They sat on the floor and he rolled a joint on one of the benches. A man walked in, and she tried to cover herself. Her nipples poked out of the thin t-shirt, so she crossed her arms, after she tried to pull down the shirt to cover her panties.
"This is Jaws," Mike said. "He lives here with me and co-owns my shop."
Melissa was embarrassed. She stammered a hello, but Jaws just stared at her. He didn't say a word. She felt very uncomfortable. Mike continued to smoke the joint, and passed it to her. Jaws didn't ask for it, nor did Mike offer it to him.
Jaws looked to be about the same age as Mike, but he was shorter and stockier. He was extremely muscular and completely covered with tattoos. His hair was cropped short, and he had a lot of scars. He seemed to have a permanent scowl, and Melissa instinctively disliked him. He stripped his shirt off, grabbed some weights and began to work out.
"Jaws doesn't do anything but work out," Mike said. "He pumps iron for fun, but he's a magician at the shop. He can fix anything. Even if the parts aren't available anymore, he'll improvise."
Melissa saw a lot of Mike over the next few weeks, and she grew to love him. He was the only guy that had ever worshiped her body the way it was meant to be worshiped. But Jaws was always around, and he made her uncomfortable. Mike loved Jaws. They had grown up together and joined the Canadian army together. Mike had served two tours in Afghanistan, Jaws had served three. The third one had been the worst. Jaws had been assigned to demolitions, and had seen three of his buddies blown up. His job, defusing IEDs or assessing scenes where IEDs had just blown up people, had taken its toll on him. Finally, when the Humvee he was riding in was hit by an RPG and three of his mates were killed, he was sent home with PTSD.
His hearing had been damaged, and he had a condition where his "fight or flight" reflex was turned on permanently. This resulted in a high level of adrenaline always being pumped into his system, and the doctors didn't know how to turn it off. They also didn't know if it would eventually correct itself, or if it would be a problem forever. One thing that was really eerie about Jaws was that he had a constant hard on. Melissa didn't know if it was because of the constant adrenaline flow or what, but it was obvious that he always had an erection. He almost always wore nothing but a pair of shorts when he was around the house, and his dick always stuck out.
Mike told her that when he'd first come home, before the problems were fully diagnosed, he had gotten in a lot of trouble. He took a lot of drugs and drank a lot, and he had messed up some guys, and the bars they were in. The first few times, he had spent time in the county jail. A couple of DUIs later, he was sentenced to prison, but got out in less than eighteen months. He was well on his way toward doing some serious time in prison.
The last time he was paroled, he was hooked up with Dr. Dan, a really old guy from the states that had fought in Vietnam. Jaws had gotten his nickname from his buddies in Afghanistan as a joke, because he almost never spoke a single word. Proud of his nickname, he had gotten a tattoo of Jaws, a great white shark, on his chest.
"I don't know what the hell Dr. Dan does, because Jaws doesn't ever talk, but they spend an hour together twice a week. And Jaws won't miss that time for nothing. Since he's been spending time with Dr. Dan, he don't do no drugs, and he don't drink."
One afternoon they were smoking a joint as Jaws sat on the chair, staring at Melissa. It was really hot, and Mike didn't have AC in his house, so she was wearing one of his tee shirts and a pair of panties, as she usually did around the house. After Melissa had her second hit, her ears starting ringing a bit. With her third, she felt a buzz and her eyelids fluttered. Just then, Jaws got up and took her by the arm.
"C'mere," he said.
"Come on, Jaws, what the fuck are you doing?" Mike yelled.
