The Race is On

Harley

“Hold this,” I said to Charlie, who took my leather jacket from me so I could pull my red crop top off over my head.

“Nice bra,” she said, pointing her chin at my boobs.

“Thanks,” I said, flashing her a smile. It was the same red push-up I’d worn the other night when Rick and I had sex. Well, we’d had sex a couple more times since then over the course of the week, and I’d remembered how his eyes lit up when he saw this little number.

I felt sexy in it, and I’d worn it specifically for him tonight to start the race on the right foot. I hoped he noticed the gesture.

I traded the crop top for my leather jacket and shrugged back into it. I left it unzipped to show off my navel and a peek of the red bra, and then I plucked my crop top from where it dangled from her fingers.

“All right,” I said, tucking the top into the back pocket of my ripped-up black jeans. “Let’s kick this bitch off. You want to come snag a good spot to stand and watch with me? I think the others are waiting for