Dear Red-Hot Biker Momma:
I'm sure as you headed out on the highway this morning, you had your Sassometer set to 11.
You were working it in your leather pants. The company logo shirts of your accountancy firm carefully hidden by the sleeveless vest. And while I don't know a lot about the motorcycle lifestyle and the steel horses that you ride, I'm sure you're wanted, dead or alive.
You've got your hot little hands on the tall dresser handlebars that keeps them up so high by your eyes. Yes, we see your sexy, tanned skin. And so much of it. You're rocking to the big sound of your muffler and your blonde mane flowing in the wind.
But that wind also makes that extra skin under your arm flap in the wind like a trailer screen door in a hurricane. So, sexy.
Try to remember your sleeves next time.