I am perched on the corner of his bed. Watching the open doorway, everything outside is bathed by a yellow 40-watt bulb from the kitchen. The toilet flushes with its characteristic clunk clunk slosh. Rolling my hips to the left, I pull my black skirt a little higher on my legs. Adjusting my shirt, I pull up my red bra to increase the visible cleavage. My silver chain necklace, with a tiny heart pendant, hangs perfectly between my breasts. I hear Jay’s footsteps, and soon he is standing in the doorway. Slowly swinging my hair over my right shoulder, and blinking three times, I blow a red lipped kiss at him. He stops in his tracks, and inhales sharply.

Jay scratches his stubbly chin with one finger, “Oh, I thought we were going to watch a movie…” He watches me, waiting for an explanation.

“I thought that we could have more fun then that.” I slide off the edge of the bed, and glide towards him. Throwing my arms around his neck, I kiss his cheek hard enough to leave a red lipstick outline.

“I am a little tired tonight. I thought that we could do something not so…not so…uhmmm” My hands are already down Jay’s pants.

“Yes, you’re right. We should do something less…physical.” I slide my hands out of his pants, toying with him.

Yanking his red Volcom shirt over his head, I catch a glimpse of his tattoo. A colt .45 on his hip as if it was in a holster. Just the sight of it excites me now. I pull Jay towards the bed, and drag him into the middle of the duvet.

He just watches me, silently. I don’t have to undo the button and fly on his jeans; they are so loose I can pull them off. Tossing his white socks on the floor, the only thing left covering him are his boxers. I playfully loop my fingers under the waistband, kiss the skin below his belly button, and he shivers. This is one of his spots. I pull off his boxers, and with a dramatic swing toss them on top of the other discarded clothes.

The heat rises off his body, and comforts me. I need to be close. I have to be close. Rolling down my lacy underwear I slide on top of him.

I tighten my legs around his hips, and wrap my arms around his chest. Almost close enough. I can feel his pulse inside of me.

Rolling over, a bead of sweat drops from Jay’s nose and rolls down my cheek. His eyes are focused on something past me. A red hue creeps up and over his cheekbones.

“OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL!” Jay leaps up stiffly. He is towering over me as I lie on the bed. He looks down at my face, and then back to the sheets. The red has disappeared, and so has his erection. His wide eyes leap back to my face.

“That is fucking gross! God!” He steps heavily off the bed with his hands tucked in his armpits. I can’t see what’s wrong until he is closer to the open door. There is blood all over his crotch. I jump up and find there is also a dark spot on the duvet. It was supposed to start next week.

I search my bag for a pad, and roll up the duvet to put it in the wash. I find the blood has also soaked through to the sheets. I strip the whole bed and put everything in the washer. I can hear Jay turn the shower on, so I didn’t start the machine. I wait for fifteen minutes outside of the washroom until he shuts the water off.

“Jay, I’m sorry. Can I come in? I want to talk to you, I’m really sorry…I didn’t…”

“No, I don’t really want to talk right now…”

“Please, Jay, it was an accident. It wasn’t supposed to be this week…”

“But it was. Aren’t you supposed to know about that kind of stuff!” Jay slams a cabinet door shut.

“Sometimes it happens at weird times, it just kind of happens…”

“Go away, okay, just go. You wanted sex so bad tonight, and you go and do that. God! Just go.”

“Jay, please, it wasn’t my fault…” Jay’s electric razor roars to life on the other side of the bathroom door.

Two weeks later I slowly do up the Velcro on my leather gloves, and watch as Jay presses the ignition on the bike. It starts with a sputtered grumble, and settles into a constant hum. I tighten the chin strap on my helmet; the padding tight to my face. I check the zipper and snaps on my jacket, and slowly walk to the bike. The white Suzuki logo sits across the back of Jay’s blue jacket. His helmet is glossy black with a tinted visor. Nobody can see his eyes. Stopping on the left side of the bike, Jay doesn’t look over at me. I carefully climb onto the rear seat, making sure not to bump him. The weight of the bike shifts, but he just keeps looking forward. I search for the passenger pegs with my feet. Great, he didn’t even flip them down. Reaching down to flip them out by hand, I glimpse Jay’s visor watching me through the rear view mirror. Settling my feet on the foot pegs, I grab the back handle behind me. I used to hold Jay around his chest, but a week ago he told me to hold the back handle instead. He said that by holding his chest he couldn’t manoeuvre the bike around turns as easily. I push the visor down on my helmet, and Jay shifts the bike into gear.

The branches and trunks of trees blur into two distinct lines of brown and green. The whole forest looks like a two-minute marker drawing by a preschool kid. Over Jay’s left shoulder, the yellow median line marches alongside us. We are on our way to Seattle for a track race day. Jay does this every year, including the past two years I have been with him, with his riding buddies. The first year he told me it was an ‘opportunity to improve their riding skills’, but I think it is really just an ‘opportunity’ for the boys to brag about their toys. This year he didn’t want to ride down with the rest of the group. He wanted to take this route instead, because it had more ‘peaceful scenery’. All I see are a bunch of trees, and rocks, and squirrels. Now the ocean would be ‘peaceful scenery’, not a forest infested with bears, and cougars, and other things with teeth. An ocean sunset, that’s perfect ‘peaceful scenery’.

Jay didn’t want me to go with him, but he thought that the guys would bug him so much as to where I was that taking me would be the lesser of two evils. I didn’t want to go, but I wanted to make it up to him, so I did. With the other guys around, I think Jay will be pressured into at least hugging me. Ever since that night Jay has hardly looked at me, never mind touched me. Whenever I would reach for his hand, it felt like a vicious electric current protected it. I haven’t touched his skin for two weeks.

A mountainous mirror lake materializes on our left. Small fishing boats slowly paddle around the edges. Large logs litter the shallow waters, sometimes breaking the surface with splintered branches. I can smell the water, very cool with a hint of skunk cabbage. I can just make out the large yellow flowers of those plants beginning to bloom on the far marshy shore. I want to point out to Jay all of the ‘peaceful scenery’ he is missing, but he rigidly keeps his head facing forward. I didn’t dare tap his helmet, or yell over the wind to him.

About half an hour from the lake we come across a large truck stop. It has a huge gravel lot with six semi trucks parked in it, eight gas pumps, and a deep fried diner. One of these trucks has a custom paint job of an engorged crimson heart being stabbed by a jewelled dagger on the side. Without warning, Jay quickly pulls into the station. I am thrown off balance, and shift the bike. Jay whips his head towards me, but I can only feel the hatred from his eyes. He pulls up to a pump, and plants his feet on the ground. I slide slowly off the bike, my legs cramping above the knee, and watch Jay. Without taking his helmet off, he unhooks the gas nozzle and starts filling up the bike.

“Hey, I’m going inside to use the bathroom.” There is no response. So I repeat what I said louder. He just stiffens and looks towards me. I wait for an answer, but he keeps on pumping the gas. I take one last glance at him, in hopes of some kind of response, but none comes. I walk towards the diner’s doors, undoing my chin strap.

Pushing the glass doors open, I pull the helmet off of my head. I know my hair has turned into a wind tangled lions mane. Shit, I don’t even have a brush with me. As the bell on the door announces my entrance the entire crowd at the diner, fifteen male truckers, all stop eating to stare. It’s like I’m the first woman that they have seen for a millennium. I look towards the serving counter, the person behind it wears a red and white striped dress but other than that she doesn’t resemble a woman. I swallow hard, and try equally hard to hide it. They say that animals can smell fear. I hold my helmet tight to my chest, and walk up to the server behind the counter.

“Hi, is there a washroom here that I could use?”

“Hi there, sweetcakes, of course there’s a washroom you can use. It’s nice an’ clean, don’t get much use by this crowd.” The person in the dress slides a key, tied to a huge steel spoon, across the counter to me.

“The washroom is to your left, right down past all those tables, and then when you come to the condom machine turn to your right…no, to your left and down the hall…and there’s the women’s bathroom. Just remember to bring the key back out with you, it’s the only one we got.” The person in the dress smiles, and murmurs ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart’ under her breath. I smile and thank her.

Turing towards the bathroom, I notice that Jay is still outside doing something with the bike. He still hasn’t taken his helmet off, and has made no sign he is going to come into the diner. I walk past all of the truckers enjoying the dinner special of the evening: Sloppy Joes with a side of wedge fries and mayonnaise. I don’t look any of them in the eye, but I can feel their eyes drinking in my back. As soon as I pass all of the tables, my chest releases. The silver box on the wall catches my attention. Three little knobs with colourful advertising stickers adorn the front panel. The first said ‘Studded for his and her pleasure’, the second one said ‘Assorted colors and flavours’, and the third one said ‘Heat sensation’. Ideas and memories race through my mind. I long for the familiar feel of latex, but the thought almost seems absurd at the moment. I blink hard three times, and move towards the washroom.

I push the gaudy pink door open with my elbow, and a synthetic lilac scent races out to greet me. Wow, clean was right. There was a new roll of toilet paper in the dispenser, and no puddles of water around the sink. I put my helmet down on the counter, and enter the sparkling pink stall.

The soap container is full of flowery liquid, which foams instantly upon dispensation. I examine my face in the mirror, and attempt to take the wild out of my hair. The mascara on my eyes has started to run a little from the moisture build-up in the helmet during the ride. Satisfied with the little I could do to tame my look, I leave the brightly lit bathroom.

Three of the truckers are waiting for me as I round the corner to the hallway. They block the whole walkway, and are just outside of the view of the server. I freeze in mid step, all of the blood pools in my chest. I can’t inhale, it feels like everything is too full inside of me.

“Hello, hello, there pretty Miss dolly.” The first trucker wheezes through a yellowing beard.

“Jack, don’t be so rude. You’re going to scare the poor little girl.” The second one, with some kind of logoed mesh hat on, turns to his friend.

“Both of you stop. She is right here, don’t talk like she isn’t. Sorry, Miss, for the rudeness of these two guys. But we wanted to offer to buy you a coffee, or a meal, or a dessert, or whatever you want. We wanted to show you the hospitality of Tonnashee.”

The third guy, who is very skinny and wears a ripped Metallica t-shirt, throws a mock elbow at his two companions. The two take a step back. Everything in me releases, and the air finally finds a way in. I ease my grip on the helmet, and look at the skinny one’s face. He has a small smile, with no teeth showing, and his eyes are surrounded by long lashes. My tongue sticks to the top of my mouth as I open it.

“Well, that’s very kind of you. I am expecting my boyfriend to come in any minute now.”

“Is he that guy out there with the bike?” The bearded one questions.

“Yes, why?” I ask.

“Well, he’s just sitting on the bike out there in the parking lot,” The one with the hat says. “It don’t look like he’s coming in anytime soon. He’s been sitting out there for a good ten minutes now.” He glances down at his watch.

“Please, won’t you just have a coffee or a tea with us then?” The skinny one asks.

A warm wave rises over my cheeks. I can feel that my pale complexion now has a rosy blush. A sheepish smile evolves on my face from all of the male attention. I scratch the lobe of my right ear.

He raises his eyebrows towards me. “Coffee will only be five more minutes.” He smiles, and his crooked teeth show this time. A coffee will only take five minutes to drink. I agree to one quick cup of coffee.

I am half way through my cup, and entwined in a conversation with the truckers, when the entrance bell squeals as the door to the diner is ripped open. I almost drop the coffee in my lap as Jay, with his helmet still on and his visor still down, storms into the diner. I jump up and try to head him off, but he already has the skinny guy by the shirt collar. The guy chokes on his mouthful of coffee, and stands up to face Jay. He is a good six inches taller than my boyfriend.

“What the hell are you doing! That girl is with me.” Jay points at me as he yells through his helmet. He tightens his grip on the guy, but the guy manages to back away a step and then pushes Jay square in the chest with both hands. Jay falls backwards, and drags the guy down with him. I race over to sort out the tangle of limbs, but Jay manages to hit the guy in the face before I reach them. The skinny guy jumps up with a bleeding nose. The drops splatter across Jay and the tile floor. With a swift kick from his steel toed riding boots, Jay brings the guy down grabbing his crotch. I gasp, Jay grabs my arm and twists it. All I can do is look at Jay’s hand wrapped around my arm. He pulls me out of the door and shoves me towards the bike. I quickly turn, and see that the guy is still curled on the floor bleeding. Jay gives me a harder shove to keep me moving, and two muffled words are expelled from his helmet, ‘fucking whore’.

We are now travelling down a freeway close to Seattle. Once in a while, you can see the forest or a field when the moon comes out from behind the clouds. We haven’t seen any other vehicles for an hour. Jay hasn’t said a word either. I just watch the grey and murky trunks of trees slide by. All of the color seems to have vacated the world.

I can feel a deep bass note rumbling through my chest. There must be a freight train in the fields somewhere. I would like to travel by train someday. Everyone in the movies travels by train, it looks so sophisticated. The vibrations grow stronger, and I start scanning the fields for the train’s triple headlights. I can only see a depth that goes from navy blue to black. The rumbling keeps get closer and stronger. I scan the other side of the road for any signs of a train. Nothing on that side either. I glance at the back of Jay’s helmet for any sign that he feels it too. No, nothing, he stiffly faces forward. Now I can feel the direction it’s coming from. It’s right behind us. I can’t risk looking back because that will shift the weight of the bike. I want to ask Jay if he feels it too, but I know he will just be mad if I bother him. I really want to tap on his helmet too see if he knows what the rumbling is. I lift my hand from the handle, and hold my pointer finger over the back of his helmet. I’ll just ask him, it might be important; I’ll just tap his helmet and ask. Just as I tap his helmet, a set of high beams from behind flash on and blind us. The light grows in intensity as it reflects off of the mirrors. Jay swerves the bike, and I catch a glimpse of a chrome grill. The hot breath of the truck covers us, and the sound of an overworked engine deafens me. The truck must be two feet away from us. Suddenly, the truck driver switches lanes and roars past us with a belching drone of the horn. A blurred painted crimson heart rushes past, and the silhouette of the driver, with an extended middle finger, leans towards us. The turbulence causes the bike to shutter and shift positions. Jay snaps the bike straight, gears up, squares his shoulders, and races towards the truck, which is now only a set of twin red taillights ahead of us.

Besides the red lights of the truck, I catch a glimpse of two little red lights off to the right. It must be a farm house in the distance. Jay keeps increasing speed. The two little lights slowly grow bigger, and before I can warn Jay about them they are in the road. The brown body containing the eyes takes shape in our headlights; long legs, pointed ears, a head with a tall set of antlers. Jay doesn’t even have time to apply the brakes. The brown body slides up the windshield of the bike, and then gets sucked under the front tire. The headlights are smashed and the dark engulfs us. I can feel Jay’s body lift from the bike, I hang onto the rear handle. The bike leans to the left, and I roll with it as it hits the road. My helmet rasps like sandpaper as it drags along the asphalt. When the bike finally crunches to a stop, I lie on the road. I can breathe. I carefully dislodge myself from the metal frame. Something cut through my pants, and warm fluid runs down my calf. I push up the scratched visor of my helmet, kneel in the road, and search for any sign of Jay.

“Jay!… Jay!… Where are you? Are you okay? Jay!… Jay?” I yell into the sound consuming darkness. There is no reply, and I can’t hear any kind of movement. Not even a breath. I crawl in the direction that I think he is in. The road and the rough gravel bite through my shredded gloves. Shuffling my hands over the ground they slide on something wet. I stop, and search by feel. I find a chunk of something soft. It feels like it has hair. I drop it upon this realization, and frantically move forward.

“Jay! God, Jay! Where are you! Where are you! Please, Jay, please!” Next my hands come down on what feels like material, wet material. I pick it up, and flip it over. The white letters S-U-Z dimly show through the blackness. I sit heavily, and stare at the material in my hand. I put my left hand out to balance myself; bumping against a large object, I drop the piece of fabric. The tears finally break. I explore the object with the only sense I have, touch. I can feel a chunk of fur, and then manmade material, and then fur again. An antler, and then a riding boot, and then some more fur. Everything is wet. Soaked. I keep searching, until I find what I am looking for. The helmet. It is coated in wetness. My hands slide off of it, and find more of him. There is fur on him, and even more wetness. I try to find Jay, just Jay, out of the mess. It is impossible. I wrap my arms around what is left. Holding him as close as I can, I let the wetness soak into to me.

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