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felt the man’s chest shake, and looked up. Wait a moment. Was he laughing?
    He most definitely was. The man turned his head to glance back at me as I clung to him, wide-eyed and scared as the machine rumbled between my legs like an angry panther. “Just try to hold on!” he called out. “Focus on keeping your grip, and ignore the rest!” And then, before I could respond, the man twisted his right hand on the throttle, and the bike leapt forward beneath us.
    Before Roads had started up the bike, I had intended to keep my eyes peeled for landmarks, to try and gather as much information as possible about where we were, where we were heading, so that I could hopefully pass my location off to the authorities if I had a chance to make contact. As soon as that motorcycle was running, however, just about all conscious thoughts fled from my mind. I couldn’t read the street signs. I couldn’t look around at the buildings that went whizzing past, memorize the landmarks that I saw or the stores that flashed before my eyes. All I could think about was that vibrating sensation between my legs, soaking in through the thin fabric of my pajamas and sending waves of pleasure shooting out from between my thighs and zinging up and down my spine.
    My arms were wrapped around Roads’ chest, but my fingers tightened into claws as I gripped at this man, kept myself pressed against him. On my chest, beneath the thin cotton of my tank top and bra, I could feel my nipples growing hard, erect, poking out. I wondered if the man in front of me could feel them pressing against his back. The raging sensation was exhilarating and exhausting at the same time - and, worst of all, the longer it persisted, the hornier I could feel myself growing!
    I’d never had urges like these before. Sure, when I’d been with my boyfriend back in high school, I’d occasionally felt a longing to be pressed up against him, to feel his naked flesh against mine, to soak up his warmth. But that was nothing compared to the hot desire now overflowing in my veins.
    Trying frantically to distract myself from the pleasure rising up from my belly, I glanced around at the other bikers. We had all rolled out of the parking lot in a big group, and they were settling into a loose formation around us on both sides. Slammer had roared ahead to take the lead, but Flamer, the biker with the glasses, and Chainz were alongside us on the right and left. My eyes briefly caught those of Chainz, and he grinned wickedly at me. I wondered if he knew what I was feeling; my guess was that he did. I quickly tore my eyes away.
    Turning back to face forward again, I buried my head in the shoulder of my rider, Roads, to try and avoid the rushing wind of the road. My hands were locked around him, my fingers still digging into his chest and sides as I clung to him.
    Roaring along the highway at seventy miles per hour, each tiny bump or pothole that we hit sent a shock running through my body. After running over one especially striking pothole, I couldn’t hold in a verbal moan, and it slipped out into Roads’ ear. Despite the pleasure coursing through my body and limbs, I still froze as I realized what I had just done. Had he heard me? The man gave no indication that he had done so, however, and I spent the rest of the ride focusing on not letting him realize how powerfully his vibrating, shaking ride was playing with me, was pleasuring me.

 

     
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    I t was late in the afternoon when Senator Leonard Sterling’s phone rang. The man was sitting in his living room, gazing down at a paper and trying to lose himself in his reading, but he had been stuck on the same page for the last twenty minutes. His eyes were on the words, but his mind was elsewhere, unable to stop running through scenario after horrifying scenario. In his mind’s eye, he could see his daughter bound and gagged in some freak’s basement, lying motionless in a ditch, in handcuffs and being sold into