Her dad had taken off when she was a little kid and never came back. They didn’t like me hanging with Kellie either. They trusted me and didn’t make a big deal of it. My parents had freaked.īut they did what they always did. Logan Judd had just given me my first orgasm. On a blanket by a lake, twenty-three years earlier. He was alive and well, ordering burritos and raising kids and not a fugitive from the law or worse. He bragged that the proceeds sent him to Miami for Christmas and supported him throughout the year, except we all knew we hit his field just after he harvested the hay or corn he always grew in it, which was the way he really made his living.Īnd I was the only one who could tell him. It was bring what you want or hit Wild Bill’s kitchen that he set up in a massive tent at the edge of the makeshift campgrounds. It was mayhem, bikes, tents, campers, RVs, sleeping bags, bonfires, a makeshift stage set up for local and not-so-local bands who played loud and deep into the night. Center left picture, same, except my head was turned and tipped back and Logan’s chin was off my shoulder and he was looking down at me.īottom left, my hand was up and curled around Logan’s forearm and my head was still tipped back.Įvery biker from every club in the entire state of Colorado went to that rally every year.
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