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Every day was the same for me. Open the store, help grumpy people, close the store. I felt content but bored with life. Stocking shelves, sweeping up dust, answering phones. The life of a typical 23 year old. I worked at my Dads Floral Shop every summer.

My family wasn’t rich but we were “well off” as most would say. I had a new white BMW, and new clothes but something was missing. The boring life was killing my soul. I always dreamt of living dangerously. But I knew I would never get the nerve.

I heard a loud noise, It wasn’t a plane or a truck. This time it was different. A motorcycle. A young guy draped in Levis and black leather stepped off the bike. My heart pounded. I could hear it beat through my chest. He lit a cigarette and texted on his phone before coming into the store.

I asked him if he needed any help. He smiled and shook his head no. His green eyes or fair skin, I didn’t know what I wanted more. I wanted all of him. His face, eyes, body. I wanted him to caress my breasts and inner thighs. I wanted to feel his hot breathe on the back of my neck as I looked back at him. I knew at that moment, I needed him.

He leaned into me as he was buying a single white rose. I joked and told him that pink roses were much softer. It was a horrible sexual innuendo to start a conversation, but he took it. He wanted it wrapped up. So I bent over in my denim sundress and showed him my pink rose.

The room got really quiet. All you could hear was those leather boots walking towards me. I took a deep breath and let it happen. I felt the blood rushing pump after pump. I was shaking in fear and pleasure. He grabbed my hips and went deeper. He told me to be a good girl and that his favorite roses were pink too.

He threw me up against the glass window that faced my house across the highway. What if my Father saw? What would I do? No. I wanted this. I loved every stroke and he stared me deep into my eyes and he owned my soul. His perfect madness inhabited my body. we were one.