Page 15 of My Thursday Throwback

“There is a gym in the house, next to the dining room. It has a rowing machine and everything, but for cardio, I dance for an hour three times a week,” he told, adding soap to her sponge. “Turn around my spectacular woman, and let me wash your back.”

Turning, she placed her hands on the wall as he soaped her shoulders, hocks, and back of her thighs. Scott detached the shower head, rinsing the soap from her body, giving her the sponge. “You can wash your naughty bits while I get dressed. Don’t take too long my lovely lady, we are going on a date,” he said, smiling sheepishly as he troweled himself.

“A date?”

“Yes, I have never taken you on a date before. I think we need to get out and have some fun,” he said. “Again, long sleeves, long pants, and some closed toe shoes.”

He said it and disappeared through the bathroom door. Zelda showered quickly, dressing comfortably in a pair of loose-fitting slacks, long sleeves, and her favorite pair of kick-ass boots. For good measure, since Scott said it was a date, she wore no bra and a low-cut undershirt. He was nowhere to be found in the room as she grabbed her phone, seeing the message from Pip, responding that she and her beau were headed out for the morning and would see her later.

Zelda arrived in the hotel lobby to find Scott in a well-fitted pair of jeans and the eye of every woman that passed him by. For the oddest reason, she hid behind a pillar watching him and his reactions as women blatantly flirted with him or made almost vulgar suggestions. He never looked up except when the elevator dinged. The moment he lowered his head to the newspaper in his hand, she stepped from behind the pillar.

“Hey there, I hope this is okay,” she said, doing a little spin.

“Absolutely spectacular,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her out the door. Outside waiting for them was a Harley Davidson with a high rise bitch seat.

“I thought you said you didn’t drive?” she asked him.

“I said I couldn’t drive because of my eyes. That doesn't mean I don’t know how or can’t. My eyes are now fixed,” he said with a wink. He threw a leg over the motorcycle, handing her the extra helmet.

Zelda stepped up, holding his shoulder and then throwing her leg over the seat. Scott started up the bike and, through the speaker in the helmet, instructed her to hold on tight. Expertly, he maneuvered the motorcycle through the early morning traffic on the strip, riding down Las Vegas Boulevard, past the Fremont Experience, and out of the city. Her arms clung around his waist as the hustle and bustle of Las Vegas was left in the rearview mirror.

This morning belonged to them.

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