Sweet Child of Mine Ch. 02

Alistar's Dream

Part 2 of Sweet Child of Mine

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I smiled to myself as I watched the guy strut around. He was big, loud, and obviously had an exaggerated opinion of his self-worth. He was holding court with three of his toadies, extolling the virtues of the rat bike Harley he owned.

Everyone who looked at it was surprised the thing even ran. Obviously, he had no idea what it took to maintain a motorcycle, especially an old Harley. He wasn't much on cosmetics either. I would have bet his next paycheck the chrome had never been polished as long as T. Rex had owned it.

The first time I heard him introduce himself, I had to turn around so he wouldn't see the grin on my face. T. Rex, really? He didn't look like any predator I'd ever seen, and I'd seen quite a few in my old life. The guy was big, at least six-four, but he was puffy and out of shape. It occurred to him he'd gotten away with a lot in his life because of his size. I suddenly remembered someone I hadn't thought of in years. His club name was Runt, but at five feet three, he was pound for pound the most effective killer I had ever seen. He was eventually sent to prison for two of his murders, but the government was reasonably sure he was responsible for the deaths of at least a dozen more. He was never prosecuted after the first two because there would have been too many secrets revealed, secrets that could get others killed. I heard he died after serving seven years at the hands of a couple of rival gang members serving in the same prison.

I looked past the Harley to my own ride--a brand new Vulcan with 1500 ccs of raw power. It had been years since I'd owned a bike, but I thought the past was far enough behind me now that it would be safe. Safe means a lot in my life.

Grant Whitcomb was not my real name. The U. S. Marshals, who coordinated my witness protection entry, chose it randomly.

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I went into the Army the day after I graduated. My parents were long dead, and I spent the whole of high school living in foster homes. No one wanted to adopt an older child, and I found it fine. I worked hard in school and got good grades. Not good enough for a scholarship, but good enough for the Army. The military agreed with me mentally and physically. I did so well that I got into the Rangers and was shipped to the sandbox. It was the early days of the war, and no one was sure what was going on. I saw a lot of conflict, earning a bronze star and two purple hearts. I did two tours and had just returned for the third when I blundered into a drug smuggling ring, one that included a lot of fellow soldiers. Not knowing how high the enterprise reached, I said nothing until I was sent to another province to help train local troops. It took a little effort, but I managed to get a message to the commanding officer, which led to a sit-down late at night in a secure location.

I told them everything I knew about the smuggling ring and left. Three days later, I was assigned to a visiting group of civilians as an escort. Once they were away from base, a man identified himself as C. I. D., the 'police' branch of the army. He wanted me to go undercover and discover as much as possible. It was dangerous and worth my life if found, but I had a deep-seated sense of justice and agreed.

Two years later, the ring was taken down. I had risen to a senior position within the group, and because of my testimony, 39 men went to Leavenworth. The C. I. D. colonel who had recruited me sought me out, taking me in for 'interrogation.'

He grinned at the young idealist I was. "Bobby, we got lucky. You were going to have to testify until Sgt. Dawson took a deal and spilled his guts. Your friends found out, and unfortunately, Sgt. Dawson had a terrible accident. He stepped on a land mine. You can walk away here, leave the Army, and enter civilian life. Or..."

So, Sgt. Bobby Travers got court-martialed and sent to Leavenworth to gather information on who was receiving the drugs. When the bust happened, they rolled up a bunch of lower-level dealers who either didn't know or were too afraid to say who was running the show.

I stayed in Leavenworth for eighteen months, gathering what I could. They finally got a break, and suddenly, my case was being reviewed. The Colonel grinned at me.

"We got them, but there's a glitch. The whole thing is fronted by a biker gang known for their expertise in the drug business. They control distribution in most of the Midwestern and a few of the Southern States. They're ruthless, destroying one rival group of bikers down to the last man. The Cartels are afraid of them and have chosen to work with them rather than expend the resources in a war. We need someone on the inside. Know how to ride a bike?"

I had no idea, but I was given a Harley and extensively trained. I was even sent through the certification process Harley requires from independent shops. As mechanically inclined as I was, I was soon able to take a motorcycle apart and put it back together again with just a few basic tools. I even became computer-certified to work on the newer models.

My hair had always been short by inclination and military standards, but now it flowed past my shoulders and matched with a full beard. No one in my past life would have recognized me if they walked right by me on the sidewalk.

Relentlessly drilled in biker language and codes, how to read tattoos like a road map, and how a biker would react in any given situation, they finally declared me ready. Then, they set me up in a small Midwestern town near a local chapter. The group's original name was High Plain Drifters, but as they expanded, they shortened it to the Drifters. They had a peace treaty of sorts with the other national clubs and even included them in a few deals to keep things cordial. They had very good law firms on retainer in most states, politicians and law enforcement on payroll, and contingency plans for just about every situation. It was very hard to get into the club; mostly, they put candidates in one of their subsidiary clubs for a year or more before offering them probationary membership if they deemed it worthwhile.

I got into a subsidiary club a little better than a year ago and, ten months later, was interviewed by the local leaders of the Drifters. Positive, they had carefully vetted me, and they knew about my time in Leavenworth for drug smuggling, so I figured I was exactly what they were looking for. They were impressed with my military background, and my club name became 'Sarge.' It took another year and a half to be a full club member. I did things I wasn't proud of, things that would probably haunt me to my grave, but I was really careful not to do anything too violent or stupid. What bothered me most was how they treated the club women like possessions and how little they could say about what they were told to do. I worked my ass off, and the task force built an airtight case, and when they had enough, the hammer came down. Three months later, the club was almost gone, all their leaders and most of the soldiers bound for prison. They managed to stay as a club for a few more years but were absorbed into a larger club via the 'patchover' method. It basically meant joining them, or nasty things could happen.

The bust went down in a way that put me in the hospital for an extended stay. While there, I was medically discharged from the army at the highest rank they could give me. If I had stayed in the regular service, I would have been six years away from retirement. They factored that into a medical pension, giving my assumed identity a record that showed he never served in the military, and the money was from a structured insurance settlement. The official story was that I died in the hospital and was cremated, the ashes buried in a pauper's field.

'Grant,' with his head almost shaved and beard gone, moved to the East Coast and went to school on the G. I. bill disguised as a scholarship, getting a degree in mechanical engineering and joining a company that put him in charge of three plants after three years. I was making excellent money and banking most of it.

I was considered prime husband material. I dated regularly, owned my home, had my vehicles paid for, and was considered, on average, a genuinely nice guy.

I didn't touch a bike for six years. Then, a terrific deal on an old Honda Goldwing came along. It was a long way from my chopped-out Harley, so it was chosen. It was fun to ride for a while, but eventually, it started feeling like I was riding my recliner down the road, and I decided it was time to get something more like what I had in the old days. Making it a point to stay away from Harleys, I found many big V-twins on the market. I almost bought a new Indian but opted at the last minute for the Vulcan. I had it for eight months, and it still looked like it had just rolled off the showroom floor.

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All this went through my mind as I walked to the parking lot. My path took him right by 'T--Rex,' whose real name was Theodore. I had to stifle a laugh when I saw he was wearing colors. The Evil Revengers. What kind of bullshit name was that? You would have been safe betting your paycheck that Theodore had come up with. The Drifters would have had a ball, reducing him to a crying bitch in less than half an hour, taking his bike as they left.

Theodore stopped talking and watched as I fired up the Vulcan, and I couldn't resist letting it rip as I left, putting a black mark thirty feet down before easing up. I wondered how many miles had been taken off the back tire with that stunt.

As I was leaving the next day, I noticed Ted looking at his bike. He'd hop on it and try to kickstart it, but it wouldn't even catch. I knew what was wrong instantly. "Your half-moon starter gear is stripped. Use the electric start."

He admitted the starter didn't work. After looking it over, I twisted a couple of wires and hit the button. The starter whirred but wouldn't engage. "You need to get it down to the shop. It's a pretty simple repair and shouldn't take too long."

"Shit! I'm broke right now and'll have to wait until payday. How am I gonna get it home?"

That was easy enough. Grabbing one of his buddies, I had Ted put his bike in second gear and hold the clutch while we pushed him. I yelled for him to pop the clutch when we thought they were going fast enough. Ted did, and the bike sputtered for a minute before catching.

Two weeks later, the bike was fixed, and Ted kept asking me to stop for a beer so he could thank me. Against my better judgment, I did have a few beers with him, figuring it would shut him up. The more he talked, the more it became apparent what an asshole he was. He bragged about his bike, he bragged about how hot his 'bitch' was, he bragged about how fast his club was growing. Then he hit me up to join. Flashing back to the two years of shit I'd had to endure before the Drifters accepted me as a full member, I grinned. "I'm not much of a joiner, but thanks for asking."

By now, he had six buddies riding with him. Two had Harleys, one had an old Triumph, one had a nice-looking Road Star, an Indian, and the other had a bike so grime-encrusted no one knew the brand. He'd ask me to join him every couple of days, and I regularly turned him down.

It all came to a head one day at a local bar. A friend and I had been riding and stopped for a beer. My friend had one beer and left, but I ordered another, relaxing. Thirty-nine now, financially secure, with good friends, all that was missing from my life was a good woman. There had been a few over the years. I wasn't ugly, had good manners, and had enough disposable income to show a woman a good time, but there hadn't been enough spark for any of them to last. I did live with one girlfriend for about fifteen months before we parted. It seemed she was looking for a meal ticket, and when I caught her on my computer going over financial records, it brought it to a head.

Sandy decided that a good offense was a good defense, so she jumped me. "You got all that money and live in this tiny thing? And what's with that check you get once a month? There's no paper trail; it just shows up in your account every month. Are you an undercover cop or something, hiding from the mafia?"

That hit a little too close. "That money is from a structured settlement I got from an accident years ago. It was a pretty good sum, and they offered me a deal. If I took it in payments, they'd add ten percent. I didn't need to think about that. They got another eighteen months, and we're square. Let's discuss something else for a moment. Why were you snooping through my computer and my papers?"

She had enough shame to blush. "You never say anything about where you're from or what you did before you went to work for Jenkins Mechanical. I was trying to find out who you are."

"I can tell you who I am. I'm Grant Whitcomb. Wanna see my driver's license? If you search, I'll come back clean. There are no warrants or APBs out on me. I'm a mechanical engineer with a good job and a quiet life. I like it like that. I was never a big fan of drama."

We talked a bit more before I surprised her. "I think this relationship has just about run its course. I can't stay with someone who doesn't trust me or, worse yet, someone I can't trust. I won't live where I have to lock my computer or guard my papers from someone who likes to snoop. Take some time next week and look for an apartment. I'll even help you get set up. After that, you're on your own."

There were a few rounds of crying and yelling, but she was gone in three weeks.

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I was thinking about my inability to find a permanent partner when T. Rex came up. "Hey, dude! How's it hangin'?"

A woman at the next table blushed, and she got up and moved, taking her girlfriends with her. I was a little disappointed because she'd been sending me signals, and I was about to buy a round for the table, hoping for an invitation to join them. That was out the window now.

Ted immediately started bragging about his club. "We're gettin' to be big time now. Got us a clubhouse we can throw down in any time we want."

"Well, good for you."

"You can still get in on the ground floor, be one of the officers. Think what it would do for your street cred."

What it would do was get my ass kicked at every biker bar around, AFTER they stopped laughing. It's not my idea of a good time. I declined again, which seemed to piss Ted off.

"Don't think you can run with us, huh? Don't worry; we can protect you."

Slowly and surely, I was getting tired of his bullshit. I hadn't fought anyone seriously in six years and would still put money that I could take at least four of them down without breathing hard. Runt had taught me the hard way that looks can be deceiving. I absently rubbed my upper right arm, remembering the break.

"I'll think about it and get back to you next week."

The next week, the mighty Evil Revengers were a little subdued. One walked with a limp, one couldn't sit down good, and the big T was movin' slow. I got the scoop from one of the club members. "We ran into Ali's ex-husband. She's T's girlfriend. The dude was there because he just found out her kid was his. Twelve years, and he had no idea. They were having a 'discussion', and she didn't like where it was going, so she called us over to scare him."

"Did you?"

"Fuck no, we didn't! That guy kicked T's ass, took out Skinny's kneecap, and popped Jasper right in the nuts before the cops showed up."

"Wow. How bad did the other guy get his ass beat?"

Jason grinned. "I don't think he was breathing hard, and none of them got a lick. I don't know where he learned it, but the dude could mix it up. It was the last straw with me. I thought it would be fun to ride with a group, but T had some fucked up ideas about how things should go. I left my colors on his front porch. I'm done."

I thought he must be the smart one in the bunch. Two days later, another of his minions told him to stick the colors up his ass. I don't know what it was about, but he was pretty pissed, and Ted had a pretty good shiner. The rest of the bunch must have been rethinking his leadership qualities, and I think he was desperate when he approached me again. Again, I told him no, and he almost begged. "Ride with us just once. See how it goes."

I agreed that I would pick the bar if they didn't fly their colors.

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Judging by the looks on their face when we pulled in, they were scared shitless. We were about to walk into the Split Pistons, THE biker bar in the area. It was big, always crowded, and nobody started anything. I looked at the markings on the door, the universal sign that bikers were welcome, and the logos of some local and national clubs scattered around the jambs and knew this was officially neutral territory. It was a safe place to drink and mingle, even a private room that could hold 24 people. The room was where the clubs negotiated business, defined territories, and agreed to keep the peace so no one drew unwanted attention. If one club wanted to send a message to another, they would put a bug in the owner's ear, and meetings would be arranged.

There were always a lot of independents there, people not affiliated with a club but experienced in the lifestyle. We got a lot of looks as we walked in.

"You guys need to be cool. This is not a place where you want to start any shit. If you do, you better hope there's enough left of you to get on your bikes when they throw you out. Understand?"

There were a lot of tense nods, and we took a seat at an empty table. There was a waitress, but she was working her ass off, so I walked to the bar. The woman got me the two pitchers I ordered and grinned at me. "Interesting company you're keeping."

I grinned. "Little boys playing at being men. They wanted to know what a true biker bar looked like, so I decided to give them a lesson. Without a doubt, they're about ready to piss their pants. I doubt you have to worry about any of them coming back."

I knew I was talking to the owner. She had to be close to fifty, but she was in good shape, wearing a leather vest that was unzipped quite a bit and a pair of ass-hugging shorts. I doubt if her flaming red hair was natural, but it still looked good. She grinned while I looked her over.

"Like what you see?"

I grinned. "Yes, Ma'am. I hope my girlfriend grows up to be just like you."

She laughed. "You're one of the good ones. I can always tell. If I were ever to offer you any advice, it would be to ditch the losers and come back anytime. I run a peaceful place, but there's only so much bullshit these guys can take."

"Advice noted."

I walked back to the table and set the pitchers down. "Drink up, boys."

Their heads were on swivels as they gulped down their beer. I felt terrible for them, but it was better to learn now than the hard way later.

The bar owner's nickname was Cyclops because she only had one eye. A violent altercation with her ex led to her eye being put out by a ring with a pronounced skull and crossbones logo. She passed out from pain, and when she woke, he was passed out as well. She picked up a fireplace poker and nearly beat him to death before she called 911. She lost an eye. He lost a thumb and one testicle, and his kneecap was so shattered he walked with a pronounced limp for the rest of his life. She decided to have a little fun and told some of the guys about what I was doing, and they would walk by and glower at us. I grinned when they weren't looking and caught one 300-pound biker winking at me. When the pitcher was empty, my guys were ready to go.

"Really? I was starting to have a good time, but if you're ready, let's go."

The walk to the door was probably the longest of their lives. Bikers kept 'accidentally' running into them, and Cyclops called out as we went.

"Hey, boys! Ya'll come back soon. I'll keep an eye out for you!" She flipped up her patch to show a horrific scar and an empty socket. They almost ran the rest of the way to the bikes. I could hear the laughter as the door closed.

Once outside, they calmed down and talked me into going to their clubhouse. Curiosity got the better of me, and I rode along. The clubhouse was a substantial block building in the middle of nowhere. I admired the building for its benefit, and they hit me one more time.

Just for the fun of it, I asked about the club's rules. "We all kick in seventy-five bucks a month to pay rent and keep the lights on. We meet at least once a week and ride at least three times a month. No one else is allowed in the club unless we decide to hold a party."

"That's it?"

Three of the guys looked uncomfortable, and Ted puffed up. "Well, there are a couple more things. The club president gets to fuck any ol' lady he wants. So if you get a girlfriend and I decide to fuck her, you can't bitch."

Just when you think a person couldn't be any more of an idiot, they invariably prove you wrong. "You're serious? You guys all good with this?"

They all blushed or looked down, and my respect for them was lost forever. Then it hit me. I was going to fuck with them in a major way.

"So then, if someone else becomes club president, they get to fuck all the women? How could that happen?"

You could tell Ted hadn't given that much thought. Then he pulled himself up to his full height and tried to look menacing. "If you can kick my ass, then you become president. That ain't never gonna happen. I'd....."

That's all he got out when I hit him in the belly. Hard. The breath exploded out of him, and as he fell forward, I caught him with an elbow to the cheek. I think we all heard the crack. He hit the ground and didn't move. I looked over and grinned. "Well then. Looks like I'm the new president."

Two stood and gawked, but one got pissed. "You sucker punched him!"

"No, I didn't. He should have seen that coming. I'm up for it if you still want to argue about it. You could be the next leader of this little group.

He had balls but no fighting sense. I caught him with a savage jab to his short ribs, and I knew from experience that it hurt like hell. He dropped his hands and never saw the foot until it was in his mouth. His dentist will get some work this week. I looked at the other two, but they held their hands up. I grinned.

"Open the door. I could use a beer."

"What about T and Ronnie?"

"Leave them. They'll wake up eventually. If they're still down when we leave, we'll throw some water or something on them. They'll wake up with aching bodies, and T might not talk so well for a while, but he'll be all right."

We drank a few beers as I looked closer at the clubhouse. It was a well-made building that didn't look old. "How did you guys happen to find this place?"

"It belongs to an uncle of mine. He built it intending to make it his workshop, but never got around to it. Now he's disabled, and the money comes in handy."

I looked at Slick, as he liked to be called, and asked him a question. "You okay with me taking over?"

He thought for a second. "Yeah, I think so. T was all right, but he was never what you'd call a leader."

The other guy shook his head to agree, and I zoned in on him. "The top dog fucking your woman still on the table?" He blushed but nodded quietly. Gary turned out to be submissive, and his girlfriend practically ran his life.

I had to think about that for a while. "Well then. Let's lock up. Meeting here Thursday night. Got it? Tell T and Ronnie that if they don't show, they're out of the club."

A hose was outside, so I soaked the sleeping beauties before leaving. The others helped them up as I pulled onto the highway.

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I was surprised to see them all there on Thursday. T had a swollen jaw, and Ronnie had two new crowns, so it was reasonable that they didn't talk much. First, I had them pile all their colors on the table.

"We won't need these anymore. If you decide you can't give them up, leave now."

Nobody bitched but Ted. He was halfway out the door when he stopped and came back. "This ain't over!" He hissed, trying to look menacing.

"All right. You should wait until you're healed up. Your boys think I sucker punched you. First, you must learn that guys like me, and bikers in general, are not much on rules. If and when you decide to try me again, have at it. If you catch me napping, that would be good for you. Just know next time, I won't go easy on you. You'll get the full ass-whuppin'. Make sure you understand that before you take the first swing."

He looked a little pissed but kept his mouth shut. I wasn't sure how far I would take things before walking away, but it was fun for now. Oddly enough, when I talked, they listened. I spent most of the night lecturing them about road rules both as a solo and as a group, what not to say to piss people off, and how to be respectful without looking like a pussy. Then I talked about bike maintenance and told them before we left that we were all meeting here to spruce up our rides on Saturday afternoon. I drank two beers and noticed we were drinking out of ice chests. No refrigerator.

I surprised them by showing up in my truck on Saturday with an almost new refrigerator. Slick asked me where my bike was. "I can't strap this to the back of a bike. Besides, have you ever seen a speck of dust on my ride? This is about you, not me."

We unloaded the fridge and got out the cleaning supplies. For three hours, they learned basic maintenance and how to clean a motorcycle properly. I have to admit they looked loads better when we were done. We were standing around having a beer when I saw Ronnie's eyes widen.

I immediately dropped down and saw the ax handle go across where my head had been seconds before. Teddy stood there looking, puzzled that he hadn't gotten me. I came off that ground mad as hell. It's one thing to fight, and another to try to kill someone, and I seriously doubted he had the control or sense to know the difference.

His eyes widened, and I grinned. "Remember what I told you if you ever tried again? You're about to get a lesson. I won't be too hard, but every part of your body will ache for days when I'm done."

He was game, but I showed him almost everything I'd learned in the Army, my time with the Drifters, and the karate studio I'd been going to as a way to keep in shape. I was never comfortable that somewhere, somehow, I'd run into someone who knew who I was, so I kept my skills up.

I kicked his thighs, stomped on his toes, worked his body, kicked him down, and beat his ass with the ax handle like I'd spank a child. He whimpered, he cried, he screamed like a little bitch until he lay there sobbing. I tossed the handle down and looked at the guys. "Lock up. Be here Thursday night. Might want to call somebody to get him. I doubt seriously he'll be able to ride home."

They were standing spellbound but snapped out of it pretty quickly. One was on the phone while the others helped him to a picnic table as I rode away.

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The Mighty Dinosaur missed three work days and showed up on Thursday, moving slowly. His cheeks were swollen, his nose was scraped raw, one eye still had the vestiges of a shiner, and he moaned a little every time he sat down. I just grinned at him every time I saw him.

I was surprised when everyone showed up on Thursday--even Ted, though he didn't ride. He was dropped off by a pissed-off-looking blonde who stayed just long enough for him to clear the car door. I wondered why she was with him from my brief glimpse of her.

We all got a beer and sat down outside at the picnic table. "All right then. It strikes me you guys are a bunch of pussies. While I have a fondness for pussy I have no desire to ride with them, so tonight, I'm going to give you a grounding in how to defend yourself. A few basic punches, a few throws, that sort of thing. Anyone not interested needs to hop on his bike and leave."

For the next ninety minutes, I had them punch, block, and kick a little and taught them a few dirty tricks. "If you get into a scrape as a biker, rules don't matter. What's important is that you fuck that asshole up before he fucks you up, and do it bad enough that he thinks twice before he tries it again."

We broke up just before dark, and Gary hung back. "Let me ask you something. You still gonna fuck our women?"

I sighed. "That's a bunch of bullshit. You know that, right?"

He nodded. "I thought as much, but I need a favor. I need you to take my girlfriend out and fuck the shit out of her."

"What?"

It all came out. She was spending his money as fast as he brought it in, fucking around on him, and lately, she was talking about them getting married so she'd get a share of everything. "I need you to keep her out of the house long enough for me to pack her shit up and change the locks. I know better than to try it while she's there. She'd call the cops and spin some shit about domestic abuse, and I'd spend the weekend in jail. I'm trying to eliminate the drama; got a cop friend who's helping me get a restraining order; all I need her to do is be gone while I get it done."

I stared at him until he dropped his eyes. "Have her here, Friday, by eight. I'll keep her occupied until at least one, and after that, you're on your own. Tell her to dress like a biker bitch that needs to be fucked, and tell her in exactly those words. Understand?"

It felt odd as hell when he hugged me.

I watched as she drove up to the clubhouse. I'd never seen her before, but everyone told me she was a looker, so I wasn't surprised when a woman with vivid red hair and a toned body unfolded from the driver's seat. For all her beauty, she was a little hesitant when she came inside. "Grant?"

I spoke from the shadows, and it made her jump. "Is that how you dress when you need to be fucked?"

"Wha... oh, I just assumed you were kidding." I walked out from behind the makeshift bar and didn't stop until we were nose to nose.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

She tried to say about four things, but couldn't get any out. I grabbed her and kissed her as hard as I could. It was rough and demanding, and I kept waiting for her to pull back and slap the hell out of me. Instead, she kissed me back harder. This went on for a moment or two before I broke it off. Before she could recover, I twirled her around and bent her over the ratty pool table one of the guys had dragged in. I had her by the neck, and she started to squirm when I brought my hand down on her ass. Hard. She squealed and gasped. I didn't give her time to recover as I brought my hand down on her other cheek.

Then I pulled her up by her hair. "Next time I tell you to do something, you fuckin' do it. Understand?"

She nodded with tears in her eyes. But her nipples had popped straight out, and her breath was coming in ragged gasps. I grabbed a nipple and pinched it, getting another squeal for my trouble, but she never tried to stop me.

I held her by her hair and pulled her back to her car, making her get behind the wheel. She thought I was rejecting her until I got in with her. I took her to a Harley dealership and bought her a pair of black leather chaps, then to a department store and got her a pair of black knee-high boots with a four-inch heel, a white female version of a wifebeater. I stopped on the way out and picked up a pair of scissors.

She was shaking like a leaf when we got back to the clubhouse. "Put these on."

She was bright red but slipped the dress off, showing me a push-up bra and a tiny thong. Well, at least part of her was dressed to get fucked. She had a good body, even though she was a little soft in the middle. When she had the shirt and jeans on, I made her turn around. I made a couple of marks and had her take them back off again. I cut the shirt and jeans on the lines and made her put them back on. The shirt was just below her boobs, and the now jean shorts showed a good bit of her ass. I helped her put the chaps on and frowned.

"Something isn't right. Ah, I got it. Lose the bra."

She moaned a little but did as I said. I didn't have to touch her nipples, but I did, and they were so hard I thought they would fall off. "Now, now you look like a bitch that needs to be fucked. Let's go."

I knew it would be a little cool for her to ride the bike, so I gave her a black leather vest. I fired up, and she scooted as tightly to me as possible. Her eyes got wide as we pulled into the Split Pistons. I helped her off and gave her instructions. "Stay close to me and do exactly what I tell you. Wander off, and some asshole will grab you, and I may never see you again. You got it?"

She had a death grip on my hand, and the volume dropped quite a bit when we walked in. It picked back up as we made it to the bar. Cyclops stood there grinning. "Hello Trouble."

I pretended to be hurt. "Why would you call me that?"

"Well, first you come in with a bunch of pussies and get out of here without a hair out of place, then you show back up with a prime piece like this."

I grinned at her. "Well, I do have a thing for redheads."

She laughed and swung her thick braid around the front. "What could you do with this?"

I leaned over and whispered to her. "I'd use it like the reins of a bridle while I rode your fine ass down."

It was her turn to flush, which I figured didn't happen often. Then she grabbed my shirt and halfway hauled me over the bar, and stuck her tongue down my throat. The woman had skills, and when she finally let me go, her nipples were standing tall and proud. She whispered back just before she let me go. "It would be the ride of your life, big boy."

She and I both smiled, knowing we would soon test that theory. I introduced her to Red, and she looked her over from head to toe. "She's a pretty piece of eye candy. Yours?"

"Just for tonight unless she impresses me."

"When you're done with her, send her over. Or better yet, bring her along when we go to my place." Cy slid her hand under her cut-off shirt and flicked a nipple. Red moaned while I grinned.

"I'm not a big fan of heart attacks, and that's exactly what would happen if we all got together. I figure you would take years off me."

"I'll be gentle on you the first time. Her, not so much. If ever a bitch was built for pleasure, it's her. When my tongue hits her clit she'll start screaming in no tongue known to man."

Being publicly touched and talked about like an object had Red practically dripping, and if I could smell her arousal, everybody could. I pulled her to a table in the corner, and we sat as practically every biker in the bar came by for a look. She was slumped down, and I slapped her thigh lightly. "Sit up! How does it feel knowing that every man in the place and many women want you? Not as a friend or girlfriend but as a piece of meat just to be used?"

As I asked, I slid my hand across the front of her shorts, not surprised to find them a little wet. "I could toss you over the table and fuck you in front of the whole bar, and you'd scream for more, wouldn't you?"

For an answer, she moaned a little. I felt someone and looked up. Cyclops was standing there grinning. "I need your bitch for a couple of minutes. Don't worry; I'll bring her back in one piece. Mostly."

She was winking and moving her eyes to make me look behind her. Well, tonight was wet t-shirt night. I grinned and told Red to go with her.

Thirty minutes later, the band stopped, and the stage went dark. When the lights came back on, ten women were standing there. Cyclops grabbed the mike. "Here it is, boys! Who wants to see some titties?"

The crowd roared as she picked a couple of random guys out of the audience and handed them a squirt bottle--bottles filled with ice-cold water. The first woman gave credence to the expression 'rode hard and put up wet'. She had to be in her early forties with a hard face and a vacant smile. I'd seen her a hundred times when I was with the club. Not her per se, but women like her who had been in life just a little too long. Still, she had a nice rack with impressive nipples, and the crowd gave her a big hand. The next woman was barely five feet tall and couldn't have weighed over a hundred pounds; fifty had to be breasts. It was almost all you could see when you looked at her. Despite the cold water, her nipples remained flaccid.

The next few were all right but not memorable. Then, an Amazon was up. She had to be six-five or better and proportional. The thin shirt displayed her assets quite well, and she twirled a couple of times, letting her short skirt flare out to expose her black thong. The crowd roared.

Then Red got onstage. While the other women had been wearing shirts furnished by the bar, Red still had on her wifebeater, and when the thin material got soaked, she may as well have been topless. She also did a twirl and bent over slightly, causing most of her ass to hang out. It came down to her or the Amazon, and Red won. The prize was five hundred dollars.

Cyclops, still in her wet shirt, led her back to me and handed me the money. She leaned down and whispered in my ear. "As soon as you're tired of her, I want her. It would be nice if you were along for the ride."

How about that? I was surprised at how easily I could slip back into my riding persona. A few guys wanted to get froggy but calmed down when Cyclops gave them the stinkeye. One fat biker was a little insistent, and I lost patience. "You want her? Fight me and win, and she's all yours."

The guy was a big sucker, and he was all for that until I asked him what he was going to put up if he lost. "You don't think you get her for nothing, do you? What you got worth her?"

"I don't need to put anything up! I can kick your ass and not break a sweat."

I couldn't help it and laughed. "Really? You look like you'd break a sweat lifting your beer mug. What size shoe do you wear?"

"What the hell's that got to do with anything?"

More people were listening to us now, so I kept crowding him. "Those engineer boots look brand new and close to my size. When I stomp your ass, I'm taking the boots and that wallet, and you ain't gonna say shit because you won't be able to talk."

By now, Red looked terrified, and I was on my feet. Cyclops and a bouncer were on their way when another biker stepped up. "Give it up, Tiny. This guy is just a little too eager to mix it up. Maybe you should stop a minute and wonder why."

Tiny stiffened and backed up. I knew then this guy was the leader of whatever club he may be in. I grinned at him. "Thanks. In a way, I'm a little disappointed I'm not going to get to kick lardass here into a Weight Watcher's meeting, but I don't think Cyclops is happy about it, and I like it here. Beer?"

He grinned back and pulled up a chair. Red started breathing again. We talked in general terms, and I knew he was fishing. No, I was not riding with anyone, and I wasn't interested in joining anybody. I just wanted to ride my bike in peace, have a few beers, and maybe make a friend, but that was it. He stood after his beer.

"Good enough. Maybe I'll see you around." He started walking off and looked back. "Oh, and if Tiny gets froggy, kick his ass. No one will interfere. It'll do him good to be brought down a little."

I looked at Red. "Well, honey, time to call it a night. Come on."

I stopped at the bar and bought a T-shirt. It would be cool riding in a soaked scrap of cloth. I gave it to her, and when we got to the parking lot, I told her to put it on.

"Right here?"

"Yeah, right here, right now."

She didn't hesitate, throwing the wifebeater on the ground. I admired her chest and realized she was a bit of an exhibitionist because she took her sweet time sliding the new shirt on. Tiny was outside, saw his opportunity, and charged towards me. I just had time to push her out of the way. The kick was one of my best, a high-spinning turn kick that caught him in the nose and smashed it flat. He was out cold before he hit the ground. I wasn't breathing hard, laughing when we got on the bike. She stuck to me like glue to my house.

I realized there was much more to her than Gary had let on, and I wanted to explore it a little. Before we got into the house, she was a wildcat out of her clothes. We did everything we could come up with and went to sleep exhausted at about four.

The next morning, I woke her with breakfast. She was mostly quiet, and when she was done, she took a shower, walking out in just a towel. "I guess you need to take me to my car. Gary must be wondering where I am."

"Gary couldn't care less where you are. He took the opportunity last night to move everything you own out of his house. Says he'll take legal action if you try to come back. You pussywhipped him to the point he had to get away from you."

She cried a little. "Where am I gonna go?"

"We're going to the clubhouse to get your car and stuff and bring them back here. I thought you were a screaming bitch, but you're just a scared woman wanting someone to look out for her. Someone who won't put up with shit but won't be mean to you either. That would be me. Know that going in this offer isn't permanent. When you get back on your feet, we'll find you a place."

She started talking, but I stopped her. "I'm not asking. Now get that hot ass in gear."

Her wicked grin came back. "All right. Just as soon as I say thank you." Then she dropped the towel. It was after three before we went to get her stuff.

............................................................................................

Gary was surprised to find out that Cheryl, her actual name, was living with me. "Be careful, dude. She'll take over your life."

"I don't think that'll be a problem."

When I got home that night, Red grinned at me. "When you gonna do it?"

"Do what?"

"Claim the other two women."

I sighed. "I'm not. I only took you out because you weren't married, and I hate controlling bitches. I never meant to like you."

She sat up, and the cover slipped down, giving a nice look at her boobs. She made it a habit never to wear clothes to bed. "You have to!"

"No, I don't."

She snuggled up to me. "No, you don't. Look, I'm not saying take them out and fuck them though you probably could. Take them to the Piston and show them the real biker life. Scare their little pussies straight so they'll forget all this biker bullshit. Those boys could get hurt badly trying to be something they're not."

I thought about that for a while. We were supposed to ride Saturday, and they were bringing their wives. I told Red to have her ass ready, and we were the first ones at the club. The others rode up, doing a double-take when they saw her. She wore a crop top, torn jeans, knee-high black boots, chaps, and a vest. Her hair was up in a thick braid, and she looked like a hot biker babe.

The mighty T. didn't make it, and I suspected he might not return. The other two wives were about as nervous as could be. One was a mousy brunette with a good figure, but she had no idea about clothes and makeup. The other wife was a dishwater blonde who wouldn't look me in the eye.

I explained the route to them: "We'll take route 40 up into the mountains, then go west on 19 until we come to Garrett. That will be the halfway point, so we'll stop there for lunch. Then we'll keep to 19 until we get to the parkway and take it until we get to Hillsville, then take Harris Road back until we get into town. Does anybody object?"

There wasn't, and as we got ready to go, I grabbed Blondie. "You're riding with me. Red, ride with Gary."

I saw Red smirking as she got on behind Gary. Blondie stood there uncertainly, and I just looked at her. "Get on. Now!"

She scurried over and got seated. Her husband, Slick, looked at us momentarily before pulling out. Since he was solo, he had been riding the lead. We were thirty minutes into the ride before she relaxed and settled down against my back. I was surprised at how firm her chest was. I knew she had three kids. Two hours later, we stopped for gas and stretched our legs. I asked Blondie what she'd like to drink and got it for her, sitting beside her at the picnic tables that were scattered around. When it came time to saddle up again, she was beside my bike waiting.

We hit Garret about 12:30 and pulled into a little pub someone had told me about. About half a dozen bikes were around, but twice that many cars. The food was everything I'd been told it would be, and I enjoyed a great roast beef sandwich with horseradish sauce and red onion jam. I told Blondie she could have anything she wanted, and she got a barbeque platter that was so big that she had to share some of it. Slick and Gary got a draft, but we stuck to tea or soft drinks. We were in the mountains, and I had no desire to kiss a granite bank or learn to fly off a thousand-foot cliff. I took the lead, winding around tight curves until we hit the parkway. Right past where we got off the parkway was a tourist trap, and we stopped for our last break. While some of us used the facilities, the rest of us browsed. I caught Blondie looking at a stuffed animal, an enormous duck. When she went to the restroom, I bought it and three smaller ones, one for each of her kids. She cried when I gave them to her.

That set off a flurry, and Red let Gary buy her a big zebra while Jasper bought his wife an enormous lion. It was so big that Slick had to strap it behind him. I put the little ducks in my saddlebags, and Blondie held the big one before me. Red did the same thing with her zebra. We must have looked quite the sight rolling down the highway.

We returned to the clubhouse and relaxed, drinking two beers before going our separate ways. Red grinned the whole way home.

"So when are you taking Blondie on her date?"

"I'm not. I took you because you weren't married, and I knew you were about to be out of a relationship. They have three kids, and I don't want to interfere in their lives."

"No! You have to do it. She told me she was scared to death but wanted to go. Take her to the Piston, show her a world she doesn't know existed. I'm not asking you to screw her although she would probably let you. Give her a memory she'll relive every time she sees a bike on the road."

"What about Slick?"

"What about him? He can't be much of a man if he agrees to this shit to start with. It'll give him a wake-up call, and he'll pay more attention to her.

The following Saturday night, I was waiting at the clubhouse when Blondie pulled in, driving her mommy mobile with the car seats in it. That gave me enough pause that I almost didn't go through it, but she seemed eager when she got out. I'd had Red go with her to get date clothes. They wouldn't be nearly as revealing as what Red wore, but I made sure to tell them to slut her up a little.

She was scared to death but determined. "Cheryl told me this is what I was to wear and that I'm to change in front of you to see if you like it."

"You do..." was all I got out before her top came off, showing me some pretty impressive boobs under an industrial-strength bra. She was flaming all kinds of red as she unhooked it and let it fall. Three kids had taken a toll, and they drooped a little but still looked firm and full. She pulled something out of the bag and handed it to me.

"You're gonna have to help me."

It took a minute. I was far more familiar with trying to get a corset off than on, but when we were done, she looked great. Her breasts stood high and firm, and you could make out the firm nipples trying to peek over the top.

I praised her, and it seemed to relax her a bit. Then she wriggled out of the jeans, revealing full-cut granny panties. Her nerves deserted her, and she asked me to turn around. I did, and when she said I could turn back around, she was in a thong. Her ass was full and round, and it framed it in all its glory.

She was beyond blushing as she pulled up her thigh-highs and put on a denim miniskirt, ankle boots, and a denim jacket. If you saw her on the street, you wouldn't recognize her.

It took her a minute to adjust the skirt so it didn't flare up while we rode.

Everyone outside stopped and looked when we pulled into the Piston parking lot. As she got off, she showed a lot of leg and a short glimpse of a thong. Then she grinned and took the braid out of her hair, fluffing it up until it looked like a wild mess. I took her arm, and she almost strutted into the bar.

Cyclops grinned when she saw us. "I thought I would be next when you kicked Red out."

"I haven't kicked her out. Besides, I'm a little afraid of you. You look like you could kill me; you'd be so hot."

Cyclops' grin got bigger. "There could be worse ways to go, and the morticians wouldn't be able to get the smile off your face. Introduce me to your arm candy."

"Blondie, this is Cyclops, sex goddess and club owner. Cyclops, Blondie, hot bitch in training."

Blondie blushed, and Cyclops thought it was cute. "When he gets to the part about expanding your horizons to include girls, put me on the top of the list. I got a ten-inch strapon and a tongue that will send you to heaven in a minute."

Blondie squeaked, and we laughed. I took her to a table and had a couple of beers. She was starting to relax when a man sat down with us. It was the guy who had tried to stop Tiny the last time I was there.

He grinned. "I just wanted to say hi and tell you there were no hard feelings about Tiny. I warned him, but he was never too smart. He's around here somewhere, so watch your back."

Cyclops had given me the lowdown on him. He was the chapter president of a national club but seemed brighter than the average biker. That might be why his club name was Brain. I'm sure they were into illegal shit, but they kept a low profile. The man kept tight control, and if one of his guys messed with a civilian or got caught doing something illegal, he'd be up their ass in a minute. He even got his guys involved in charities, and their Christmas poker run was one of the largest in the country. After we had become friends of a sort, he confided in me. "If you give them nothing to look at, they ain't lookin', and that's what you want."

He bought us a beer before he got up. "I'll leave you to your night. Is this gonna be your thing, parade a different hot bitch in front of us every time you show up?"

I couldn't help grinning. "Oh, I might have one or two more waiting. Right now, I'm concentrating on this one." Blondie was standing up, so I slid my hand up her skirt and pinched her thigh. She jumped about six inches and fled to the bathroom.

I saw Tiny about an hour later, and he still had vestiges of his black eyes. His nose was still pink and swollen, about twice its standard size. If looks could kill, Blondie would have been on her own.

I found out Blondie loved to dance, and once she got going, she could shake it. Every person in the bar saw her thong once in a while when she twirled. She surprised me by plopping down on my lap and kissing me after a dance.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For showing me that men could still want me, that I'm not just a worn-out housewife with three kids."

"I couldn't help smiling. "You keep wriggling around on me like this, and you might be a mother of four."

She blushed when she realized she had given me an erection, then wiggled around some more. Brain appeared just then and asked my permission to dance with Blondie. I didn't give her a choice, and soon they were on the floor, and she was shakin' it like she meant it. They danced again, and he brought her back as a slow song came on. I pulled her back onto the floor.

She didn't let any dead space get between us, and I felt as hard as a rock when the song ended. We had a beer, and another guy asked me if she could dance with her. She spent the rest of the night dancing with different guys. No slow dancing or touching, and if they pushed it, she returned to me and left them on the floor. One looked like he wanted to take exception until Brain said something to him, and he looked at Tiny. He decided there were others there who didn't come with baggage.

We left at midnight. I kept a close watch on her alcohol consumption. I'd had a few drunks on my bike before, and it wasn't a lot of fun. One passed out and fell. Luckily for me, we were still in the parking lot. I borrowed a few bungee cords, and some guys helped me strap her to the backrest. I almost left her strapped on when I took her home, but was afraid she'd damage my ride when she woke up. I left her on her front porch.

I figured she'd change in the clubhouse but opted to wear her 'club' clothes home. I walked her to her car, and before I knew it, she gave me a hell of a kiss. "You better like kids because if my old man kicks me out, I'll lock on to you like a leech."

Then she was gone. Red waited up for me and practically dragged me inside, wanting details. As I talked, she stripped, and she didn't have that much to start with. We slept in the following day. Slick showed up Thursday grinning, so he was all right with what had happened. He got me off alone, saying he needed me to look at his bike. "She did this when she got home and told me not to take it off until I showed you." It was her thong, stretched across the handles of his apehanger handlebars. He left it on until it rotted off.

........................................................................................................

We went for another ride two weeks later, and I had Mouse on the back of my bike. I called her Mouse because she was tiny and timid. She squeaked once when I barked at her, and it tickled me. She clung to me like she was scared to death and stayed almost silent the whole time. I noticed Jasper made her wait on him, so I made it a point to pamper her, asking what she wanted for lunch, opening doors, and holding chairs. When we returned to the clubhouse, she talked, which was unusual for her. Her eyes went wide when I told her to be at the clubhouse by seven the following Friday.

I told Red about it, and she smiled. "You need to give me some money."

"What for?"

"To buy her something nice for your date. Her ol' man controls the finances and hardly lets her touch their money. He's a control junky."

That might have something to do with her timid nature. I gave Red a card and told her not to go cheap, knowing there would be an outfit in it for her as well. I hoped it would be worth the cost. It was. She crept into the clubhouse, looking around for me. I was sitting in the darkness, and she didn't see me immediately. "Hello, Mouse."

She jumped and squeaked, looking around for me. I stepped out of the shadows and surprised her with a gentle hug. "You ready to go?"

She sighed and nodded. I held her at arm's length to see how she was dressed. Red had done well. Very well. I didn't know how good her body looked because she was always in baggy clothes. Those were gone. She had on impossibly tight jeans that displayed her ass in all its glory. Up top, she wore a tight sports bra that showed her breasts and her eraser-hard nipples. Over that, she had a denim vest. Her hair was swept back in a high ponytail that flowed down to the middle of her back. Finishing the look off were the stiletto-heeled boots, at least three inches. The heels probably explained the jut of her ass.

I held her face up by her chin. "One thing. Tonight, you're not a mouse. When you want to say something, speak up. You're as hot as any bitch you see in the club and hotter than most, so you need to stay close. Let's go." She molded to me, and I could easily feel her hard nipples against my back. I grinned, wondering if it was excitement or fear. Probably both.

When we walked into the club, Cyclops saw us, and she threw the bar towel in her hands up in the air. "Goddammit, Stud! How the hell am I supposed to seduce you if all you do is drag bitches in here that are hotter than hell? I can't get you drunk because you seem to have a three-beer limit. What do I have to do?"

She nicknamed me Stud because of the women I was bringing around, and in true biker style, it stuck. I'd been there a few times solo, and there were always one or two women all over me. They were curious as hell. I'd dance, flirt, buy them drinks, and then leave. It didn't do much for their egos. I was in an excellent mood, so I grabbed her and hauled her over the bar, locking lips with her for a while. Shocked at first, it didn't take her long before her tongue was in my mouth, and she was most enthusiastically returning it.

Everybody in the bar just held their breath. Cyclops might be a tiny woman, but she kept a lot of huge bouncers around, and it always ended badly if anyone touched her. I pulled back and put her down just as two of them arrived. She giggled, which shocked the crowd even more. "Mountain! Brock! I'm giving you an order right now. If he ever does that again, I want you to kick the shit out of anyone that tries to stop him. Hear me?"

The crowd roared and went back to what they were doing. There was actual lust in her eyes. "What was that for?"

"That was to show you that even though I play with little girls, I know a woman when I see one. One of these days, Cy..."

Her smile was about a mile wide. "Who's the honey of the week?"

"Cyclops, this is... Tiger."

Mouse wore black jeans, her sports bra was tiger-striped, and I noticed she wore matching earrings. Her eyes were wide, her mouth was slightly open, and I could hear jeans getting tight as the guys ogled her. Cyclops grinned. "She's a little cutie, but I'd expect no less from you. If you ever get bored, my door is always open. You can even bring her with you. Fair warning, though, my stripes only show when I'm naked and horny. And I'd eat this little kitten alive."

Everybody at the bar laughed. "Mo... er," Tiger said to Cyclops, "hello," her nerves made her voice deep and slightly breathless. It was hot as hell.

Brain was there, and he stopped by for a drink, eyeing Tiger like she was red meat and he was a hungry wolf. Later, he danced a couple of times with her, opening the gates. She stayed on the floor most of the night. Once again, all the slow ones were for me.

I saw Tiny from time to time with two buddies, and they all glared at me. They'd asked for a dance, and I looked at Tiger, and she shook her head, so I told them no.

Brain stopped me as I was leaving. "Tiny and his friends are outside waiting for you. Do you want a little backup?"

"I thought he rode with you."

"Not anymore. Every culture has rules, and he wasn't much for following them. That endangered everybody in the club, so we politely asked him to leave. It didn't improve his attitude any."

Wow. Members getting kicked out of a club of that level was rare. Usually, they disappear if they do something bad enough to warrant it. I looked at him, and he sighed. "He's family, but he knows better than to break oaths, or next time, we'll go for a more permanent solution."

I nodded and grinned. "Thank you for the offer, but there are only three of them. I would appreciate it if you'd do me a kindness and watch my little Tiger."

Brain and four more guys followed me out. Tiny and his cronies were standing by my bike. He was feeling brave with help. "Nice bike. I'm going to enjoy riding it when it's mine. Almost as much as me and my friends enjoy ridin' your little bitch."

I sighed. "Let me guess. Your parents dropped you on your head a couple of times when you were a child. Maybe you were just born stupid? Did you drop your bike without a brain bucket on? If you wanna have a go, then have it. So that you know, if I win, I'll get your bike and those of your friends. You try to weasel out, and I'll set them on fire while you're on them. Deal?"

Alcohol and the strength of numbers must make you think you're bulletproof. "Deal!"

He looked at his buddies. "Let's get him!"

One held his hand up. "I don't mind helpin' kick ass, but he seems a little too happy about it for me. I ain't riskin' my sled for shit like this. I'm out of it."

He looked at the other guy, and they must have been brothers. "We sell it and split the money, right?"

Tiny nodded and started forward. Brain and his crew stepped out of the shadows. "I heard it all. I have no doubt Stud will honor the deal. You two, I ain't sure of. If you lose, you bring both bikes to me at the house, and be sure to bring the titles. Understand?" They both looked a little queasy but didn't dare refuse.

It was short and bloody, and I wasn't playing around. I smacked Tiny to the ground immediately, but his buddy caught me right on the side of the head and sent me rolling. I stopped, and he swung a foot at me, so I rolled into his support leg, sweeping him off his feet and locking him in with a hold I never thought I would use. Everybody outside heard the leg break. Tiny was up by then and tried dropping on me. All he got was the pain of landing on the pavement on one knee. I closed, and he came up with a knife, cutting a shallow groove up my arm. I exploded all over him, taking the knife away from him and face-planting him on the pavement. His nose hadn't quite recovered from the first time, so it spread like peanut butter. I dropped onto his back and yanked his head back by his long braid. He howled when I took the knife and cut it off an inch from his scalp. Then I stood up and kicked him in the ear. The lights went out.

I was facing a crowd now, the braid in one hand and the knife in the other. Brain held up his hands. "Take a breath, brother. It's over. Let's return to the bar and get that arm looked at."

I looked down at the two I'd been fighting. "What about these two?"

He shrugged. "What about them? They got what they deserved. Still, Cy wouldn't like it if we left trash in her parking lot. I'll have it hauled off."

Cy was a little pissed at me. "I like you, Stud, and everybody knows I want to fuck you, but you gotta stop beatin' the shit out of people in my parking lot. It ain't good for business. Look me in the eye and promise me you'll behave from now on.

"I didn't start it."

"No, but at least get them on the road from now on. That ain't my property. Promise." I did, and she washed my arm and put four good-sized butterfly bandages on. Tiger sat with Brian, still wide-eyed. She still held on to me tightly and followed me into the clubhouse.

"Don't you need to go home?"

She swung her feet and sat on the new pool table we'd picked for cheap on Marketplace. "I'm not in any hurry. He'll probably beat the hell out of me when I get home, thoroughly convinced you've fucked the shit out of me."

"WHAT?"

Without another word, she slipped the sports bra off. The first thing I noticed was a lovely pair of tits. The next was a horrid set of bruises. Any lust went out of my mind. Then she unsnapped those incredibly tight jeans and dropped her tiny panties. There were several ugly bruises and a handprint on an otherwise very enticing ass. "This is what happened after I rode behind you last week."

"Why the hell did you come out with me tonight?"

"Because you won me. He has a very screwed-up sense of honor. When I get home, especially when he sees how I'm dressed, it's gonna get ugly."

I had a stray thought. "You still love him?"

"Not so much anymore, but I got no money and no relatives, so I'm stuck."

My voice must have scared her because she shrank when I started talking. "You don't need money and relatives. You got me. You'll come home with me if you're serious and want to escape him. If you don't tell him he's not welcome here anymore and that I'm going to stomp his ass the next time I see him, and every time after that, I'll put you out."

She started crying, and I held her until she calmed down. When she was fit, I had her follow me home. Red was still up when I arrived, and I explained things to her. She was so mad, I thought her hair was writhing in anger. She grabbed Mouse, stomped into the spare bedroom, and closed the door. I gave up after an hour and went to bed. Two hours later, I woke up to two bodies sliding in beside me. "She's scared, Grant. She needs to be with us."

I moved over, and she spooned up to me while Red hugged her like a child. We didn't wake up until ten, only then because the phone wouldn't stop ringing.

It was Jasper, and he was ranting. I put the phone down, took a piss, and picked it back up. He was still there. "Listen good, motherfucker. Mouse ain't comin' back. She's sick of gettin' beaten up and being scared all the time. She's going to find a place to stay, and she'll be here until she can afford a place. Then she's going to file for divorce and leave your loser ass in the dust. Oh, don't come back to the clubhouse. You're not welcome anymore."

He was still ranting when I hung up. I got the girls up, and we went out to breakfast. Red had a friend who had a sister who was a female cop, so she got hold of her, and she came out to the house. They went into the bedroom, and she told them the whole story. The cop took pictures of the bruises and told her she needed to file for a restraining order.

Jasper wouldn't let her back in the house, so Red took her out and bought her a few outfits and a couple of pairs of trainers. I got her a job, and she rode back and forth with me. Jasper was in the parking lot several times, but took off when he saw me. He did catch her at a fast food place and grabbed her, meaning to drag her outside. Red left a pretty good set of scratch marks on his cheeks right before the cops showed up, and they popped him for violating a restraining order and two charges of assault on a female. That got him sixty days in county.

Red screwed me one night like it was the last time it would ever happen, and then he snuggled into me. "I have to tell you something." I just stroked her hair and nodded. I knew what was coming. We'd been together for five months, and it had been good, but we both knew we had no future.

"Mouse and I are moving out Saturday. We're going to live in Mouse's old house. It's her house, or rather her grandmother's house. We'll pack up all of Jasper's shit and put it in storage."

"You think you'll be safe there?"

"Yeah. Mouse talked to her Grandmother, and she put a restraining order on him. He can't come into the yard. If he does, he'll violate his probation and go away for a year."

"You know he ain't real smart."

"Yeah, but we got her grandfather's shotguns and a pistol. It would not be good for him if he tried to enter the house. He wouldn't have to worry about probation ever again. Besides, if he comes, we'll call you. It'll give you another excuse to beat his ass." They used my truck to move, but it only took one trip since it was mostly clothes. They cried a little and kissed me as I left. I was glad for them, but the house suddenly seemed empty.

I made the Piston my hangout. I'd go once or twice a week. Most got friendly with me, and they knew what I'd done to Tiny and his friend. If they didn't, they could have looked at Tiny's braid. I made it into a handlebar decoration, and sometimes, I'd grin as I watched it flap in the wind. Everyone at the bar knew the story; most would smile as they walked past my bike. Two weeks after I 'scalped' Tiny, Brain dropped onto the barstool beside me and grinned. "When you gonna come and get your bikes?"

I was slow on the uptake. "What bikes?"

"The bikes you won when you kicked the shit out of Tiny and his buddy."

"You know, I wasn't serious about that. I just did it to keep them pissed off."

He grinned. "Regardless, a bet's a bet, and I made them bring them by. I already got the titles signed, and I have a notary guy who'll put his seal on with no questions asked."

"Well then. What do they look like?"

"Ride by tomorrow and see. Gotta go. Cy will tell you where I live."

Cy was grinning at me. We'd flirted hot and heavy, and I knew it was just a matter of opportunity. She was at least ten years older, and we knew we'd never be together, but we were both single, and sometimes the itch needs to be scratched. She gave me his address and then hit me up to go on a charity poker run. It was a benefit for a biker who'd been injured while riding. A woman backed out into the road right in front of him, and he hit her doing fifty.

Besides banging him up, both thumbs were broken, and he had to have surgery on his hands and physical therapy. He was a welder by trade; it would be a minimum of a year before he could work again. The woman was the wife of a wealthy man with a horrible driving record. When she caused the accident, her license was revoked for six months. Despite all that, they were fighting tooth and nail, and the insurance company was dragging things out. Brain hooked him up with one of his lawyers, and they were expecting a pretty good settlement, but in the meantime, he had a wife and small child, and bills needed paying.

I agreed, trying to think of who to bring. Cy took that problem away from me. She had a little Sportster and usually rode in these events, but she surprised me. "I'll be riding with you. Don't even think of saying no."

She was smiling when she said it.

I rolled up to the address he had given me, which was a garage. I was not surprised to see a couple of dozen bikes and quite a few cars. Brain came out grinning with a guy he introduced as Leroy. "Leroy will show you the bikes. You need to shoot him a couple of bucks. He's our mechanic, and he cleaned them up and got them running a little better."

Leroy didn't have much to say, walking off and expecting me to follow him. We walked around back, and he pulled the tarps back. One was an old '70s model Fat Boy, and the other was a Road King. They both looked decent, and cleaning them up took a lot.

"Which one is in better shape?" He pointed at the Road King.

"Okay, here's the deal. I didn't want the bikes to start with. I only made the bet to get them to back down. You keep the Road King and use it for a club backup or something. Sell the other one and have Brain give me the money when it's done. You could sell it back to Tiny.

For the first time, he grinned. "Tiny won't be needin' it for a while. When you kicked him in the ear, it fucked something up. His ears rang all the time, and he had a balance problem. Not a good thing when you're on two wheels doing seventy. The doctor said he might recover, but it'll take a while, maybe a couple of years." I thought about that. I meant to fuck him up, but I didn't mean to do permanent damage, but after some consideration, it didn't bother me too much. Leroy and I must have talked for an hour, and I ended up helping with a bike, my training kicking back in.

Saturday morning, we met at the bar to start our ride. Cy had a food truck there catering breakfast, so we sat and talked until it was time to saddle up. Brain had waited until we were alone to hand me an envelope with five grand: "Money for the bike. You made a friend; Leroy doesn't shine up to many folks. He's ridin' the Road King now; his old bike is the club spare. He wants you to ride with us."

I grinned. "I already told you I'm not much of a joiner. That being said, if you ever take a ride and don't fly colors, I'd be happy to ride along."

He got the message but didn't push it. Cy put the cash in a little safe in her office, and I'd pick it up after the ride.

I was shocked to see Red and Mouse. Mouse was riding with a guy that looked like an accountant but had a nice Indian, and Red was riding with Brain. They both gave me big hugs and a lot of kisses while everybody around grinned. They hammed up my legend of being a stud quite a bit. That was probably why most of the bar girls had made a run at me.

The run was a lot of fun. We joked and kidded around, and it reminded me of my club days when we weren't distributing drugs or beating the shit out of people and just ridin' for the fun of it. We got back to the Piston and went in for a beer. Cyclops gave me a big kiss and orders. "You can have one beer. I want you in good working order for later."

She disappeared into the crowd. Fifteen minutes later, Red came up grinning. "I have a message for you. Wanda wants you to come over now. She has something she wants to show you."

"Who the hell is Wanda?"

"Wanda is Cyclops. Go on now. I think you'll like what you find." Cy/Wanda lived three doors down from the bar, and I felt foolish riding over. However, it wasn't a good idea to leave my bike in the parking lot. After all, I wasn't universally loved there. I knocked on the door and heard her say, "It's open."

I found her in the living room with just a floor lamp for illumination. Her hair was down, and all she had on was a garter belt, stockings, and four-inch heels. She even had a new eyepatch on, in white, to match the stockings and belt. She looked much younger than her 48 years.

Surprisingly she looked shy and nervous, not at all like the take charge, 'do it because I fucking told you to' persona she had in the bar. I stood there until she got nervous. "What's wrong?"

"Not a damn thing. When you see a work of art, you stop and admire it if you have any sense. If you have a gourmet meal, you don't just scarf it down; you admire the presentation and eat slowly to enjoy every bite. So let me admire you a little before we start anything." She blushed, and I grinned, thinking the guys at the bar would never believe it. Then she took her hair and held it up on the top of her head and twirled slowly, giving me a lingering look at an ass that would have looked good on a twenty-year-old.

I surprised her even more when I gathered her up for a long, sensuous kiss, rubbing her body in appreciation. Then I reached up to remove her eyepatch, and she pulled away.

"Don't. I..."

I pulled her back. "I want to kiss you all over, and I don't need anything unnecessary. You're beautiful in my eyes, so let me do this."

I slid it up and off her face. Yes, the scar was horrific, and the empty eyesocket was disconcerting. She started crying softly as I kissed her scars and swept her up in my arms.

"Bedroom?"

She pointed with her jaw, and I carried her in. "I have a little present for you when we get in there. Just a little something I thought would enhance our night."

A small light clicked on to show Mouse lying on the bed in a pink teddy and blushing furiously. Wanda, I'd never call her anything else ever again, grinned. "She kept hoping you'd come after her, but you didn't. She was at the bar one night hoping you'd come in, and some asshole was giving her a hard time, so I had Brock remind him of his manners and fed her brandy to calm her down. She got way too calm, and I didn't know what to do with her, so I brought her home. I never expected anything to happen, but I suspect the alcohol kicked in, and she was all over me. She cried when she woke up naked in my bed, but after a nice soothing shower, she slid right back in, and we spent the day making love. She would have been behind me if I had ridden my bike today."

It was a long, exhausting, and incredibly satisfying night. I'd been with two or even three women before in my riding days, and I knew well that I'd never be able to keep up with them. They were kind and let me rest while they loved each other. We discovered Mouse was a screamer, and Wanda would watch her for signs she was about to come and lock her up in a kiss.

Wanda, well, Wanda needed a star on the Sexual Hall of Fame wall. I'd done many things with a woman, but she showed me things I had never dreamed of. I finally lost consciousness right before daylight. We woke up, twined together, and showered after some light petting. Mouse gave us a tremendous kiss and left, no doubt, to tell Red of her most excellent adventure. Wanda and I made a day of it, then showered again. She had to return to her bar, and I needed to go home. She hugged and kissed me before she went out the door.

"If you were five years older, I'd never let you out of bed. You're one of the good ones, Stud. When you find the right woman, she'll be delighted. I love you, but this is a one-and-done, understand? I just had to get you out of my system."

I grinned and swatted her butt. "You mean a four-and-done, don't you? You're a hell of a woman, Wanda. I hope the right man walks through your door someday soon." I watched her walk up the sidewalk before firing up and heading home.

............................................................................................................

Life settled into a routine. I kept the rent on the clubhouse even though there were just three of us. Slick and Gary paid the power bill. Then Slick brought a friend of his in, a huge black guy who happened to be a cop. I wasn't worried because even though we rode bikes, we were just average guys. Gary brought in a friend who was a dentist in real life. I brought in a lawyer I met at the dealership, and one thing led to another. Soon, we had twenty members. Blondie, her riding nickname, became the de facto leader of the wives and girlfriends.

The guys had Thursdays as an official meeting day. On that day, we were just like the Little Rascals. We were the Heman Woman Haters' Club, and no girls were allowed. This led to some rebellion, and the girls had Wednesday nights. They tended to get a little giggly and wild, and we didn't want them driving, so their man would drop them off and pick them up. When we arrived on Thursday, we knew how wild they had been the night before by the number of bras hanging behind the little bar one of the new members, a construction foreman, had built. The guys would grin and take them home. It got a little sticky every once in a while if the guy brought the wrong bra home. I avoided all that by staying unattached.

Pretty soon, when we rode, a spare woman always seemed to be around. I enjoyed it, but drew lines.

Then, one day, about eight months after I ran into Ted the Dinosaur, I came home to see a little Corolla in my driveway. A tall, slender blonde unfolded out of the car when I cut off my bike. "Hi. I'm Alistar, once considered 'his bitch' by the famous T. Rex. I left him in the dust a few months ago. You won me fair and square when you took over the club, and I'm here to collect the night you owe me. Saturday will be fine."

End of part 2