Dahlia walked over to the short, balding man on the motorcycle. Her heels clapped the sidewalk.
"So, what's your name?" she asked.
"Johnny. Get on."
"All right, Mr. Get-On." Wisely, she had changed into her jeans. She straddled the bike behind him. Its vibrations instantly changed her pain into pleasure. She clenched her teeth because it was still difficult to bear.
"Call me Johnny," he said, and roared her into the night.
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