He picked up the cherry and put it in my mouth. "Enjoy, I'll get my cherry tonight." I gasped in shock and that was enough for him to cover my mouth with his, kissing me possessively. We broke apart when someone cleared their throat by us.
"Your Jeep is outside," the kid said. "Good luck, and thanks for bringing her back to us," he said to me.
He paid the bill and we walked outside together; his Jeep was parked in the back of the lot, a motorcycle trailer attached to the back. "Did you do this," he said.
"No." I sent a thank you to my Uncle, who wished us a good trip.
"Good, now I get to hold your hand while we drive." It sounded good to me. We loaded up the Harley and tied it down, then pulled out and headed back to Interstate 90 west.
We were almost to Rochester when my phone rang, it was Marcy. "Hey Marcy, I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier. Niesha's back home and I'm on the road."
