About Get Your Motor Runnin'

by Rob Rosen
13 pages / 3000 words
Ebook zipped file contains - html, lit, Adobe and Sony optimized pdf, prc, epub

When business trips between San Francisco and LA become too tedious to deal with, Jake decides to spice things up by driving in the buff. He even picks up a hitchhiker, Les, and insists that the man take his clothes off, too. Distracted by his driving companion, Jake stops paying attention to his driving and winds up getting pulled over. Is there anything two naked guys in a car can do to convince the officer not to give them a ticket?

Sample

Guy was standing by the side of the road, thumb out, backpack slung over his shoulder. He had on a tank top, ripped shorts, army boots, and a smile that stretched wide across his stubbled face. I slowed down, contemplating my options. I mean, I was naked, after all. Still, it was broiling out there and traffic was sparse. The worst he could do, I figured, was take a good look at me and run the other way. In other words, I pulled off the side of the road, watching in my rearview mirror as he ran up to the passenger side door.

"Thanks for stopping," he said, a bit winded, as he poked his head in. "Whoa, dude, you're freakin' naked."

I grinned, a red flush creeping up my neck that blossomed along my cheeks. "Um, yeah, a bit of a science experiment, of sorts. Where you headed?"

"Los Angeles," he replied, his head still in my window, the hot wind blowing through his thick mane of black hair, his blue eyes sparkling like the stars in the heavens. "You?"

"Same," said I. "Want a lift?"

He paused, his eyes moving from my head on down, his smile still bright and mesmerizing. "Would I, um, have to get, um, undressed, too?"

I scratched my head. "Well, it would seem weird. Only one of us being naked, I mean."

He laughed. "Yeah, because two naked men driving down the highway wouldn't be weird at all, right?"

My own laughter joined his, the sound carrying on the breeze. "I see your point. Still, a ride's a ride."

"Guess so. Though you're not some kind of axe murderer, are you?" he asked, slowly setting his backpack down on the pavement.

"Insurance broker," I replied. "Client's in L.A." I patted my bare chest and thighs. "Besides, where would I hide the axe?"