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by Alex Dawson

  She just rolled her eyes at the other girl, although she did have to admit that she knew why the guys flocked around Monica. She was always dressed in the latest style, her blonde hair was perfectly straight and almost to her waist, her minidress was so short that Farrah could almost see the bottom of Monica’s ass cheeks, and her legs looked even longer and slimmer than they were in her boots.

  Farrah looked down at her own hair. It was straight, lucky enough, but not an exciting shade of blonde or red like the other girls she knew sported. Her shorts were shorter than her mother would allow, but longer than fashion currently dictated.

  Briefly, Farrah wondered if she’d have more luck with men if she dressed like Monica did, but she didn’t think that she could make herself do it. Her mother always said that non-modest clothing was demeaning to women and turned them into horrible sluts.

  She wanted a date, but she didn’t want to debase herself to do it.

  On the other hand, Monica didn’t seem unhappy or debased, and Farrah’s mother had just left her in the cold. Nothing seemed simple any more, and she longed for the return of days that made sense.

  Monica pulled a chair up and sat down, pulling a pack of smokes out of the avocado-green purse that she’d left on the kitchen table, tapping one out with a long, manicured finger, and fishing around for a lighter.

  Once the cigarette was lit, she leaned back and gave Farrah a long look.

  “Seriously, girl, what’s up with you?” she asked.

  Farrah Joy slumped again. “I’m totally out of money, and I don’t know how to get it in time to pay for this semester. I have already spent so much, I can’t drop out now, I’m too close to graduating.”

  Monica nodded, solemn and quiet with her cigarette.

  “You need a man,” she said. “You’re pretty, you’ll get paid plenty if you give up that pussy to the right man.”

  “Monica!” Farrah Joy shrieked, and both girls laughed.

  “I’m serious,” her roommate said, “You need to flutter your eyelashes and sit on some nice man’s lap and tell him all about your dream of graduating from college, and how happy it would make you, and you need to slide your hand up his thigh.”

  “Is that what you do?” Farrah asked, and then flushed at her rudeness.

  “Nah,” the other girl said, blowing smoke in the general direction of the back door. “I don’t need to, I got a full ride, remember? I sit on their laps for fun.”

  Farrah shook her head. She still wasn’t used to Monica’s brazen talk of sex, and she wondered if this was the sort of girl her mother was afraid that she’d turn into.

  “If you won’t put out for it,” Monica went on, tapping her cigarette over the ashtray on the table, “You’ve gotta call the Dragon Lady.”

  “Don’t call my mother that,” Farrah said. “She’s not as bad as you say.”

  “Sure,” Monica said, nodding. “She’s not at all that bad. I’ll go ahead and give you privacy for the call.”

  The blonde girl stood up, smoothed her miniskirt over the tops of her thighs, and breezed off toward her own bedroom, leaving the other girl alone with the dog.

  Farrah sighed and looked around the kitchen. She stood up and washed the dishes in the sink, resisting the urge to leave them them stacked neatly on the drying rack, which her mother thought was just borrowing trouble for later. She dried them and put them away.

  After wiping down the counter and table and sweeping and mopping the room, she couldn’t think of any more chores to put off the phone call that wouldn’t be totally ridiculous.

  “I could give you a bath,” she said to Benny.

  The dog whined and Farrah shook her head. She was just being silly.

  She walked over to the phone on the wall and dialed the number of her childhood home.

  Her mother answered, as always, on the third ring. More, and you make the party wait, she had instructed Farrah Joy so many times, less and you make your party think you have nothing better to do than sit by the telephone.

  "Williams residence, may I help you?" her mother asked, voice smooth and distinct.

  "Hell, Mother," Farrah said quietly.

  "Hello, Farrah Joy," her mother replied.

  There was a moment of silence.

  "How are you today, ma'am?" Farrah asked. She had already begun twirling the phone cord around her finger.

  "I am well, thank you for asking," the reply came, clipped and precise as usual. "What have you done with yourself today?"

  "Um, well, I just cleaned the kitchen," Farrah said.

  Her mother's small snort carried clearly through the line. "You just began that now?"

  "Well, I was at class earlier, ma'am," Farrah replied, "I wait to clean up until after I go to class so that I don't disturb my roommate."

  "She stays up until all hours and sleeps through the day?" her mother asked.

  Farrah tried not to roll her eyes, even though she knew that her mother could not see her.

  "No, ma'am, we both study in the morning and she prefers quiet," the girl said, crossing her fingers behind her back. Monica had rolled out of bed when Farrah Joy returned from class at ten o'clock that morning, and Farrah had no idea what time her roommate had gotten back that night.

  "Are you still set on this, then, Farrah Joy?" her mother asked.

  She could hardly believe her ears.

  "Mother, I'm close to finished," she said, "I'm only two semesters from graduating."

  Her mother said nothing.

  Farrah Joy leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, cradling the chilly plastic phone near her ear.

  "Momma," she said softly, "Momma, I'm out of money and I don't know what to do."

  Her mother still said nothing. Only the crackle of the connection, rather than the smooth dial tone, kept Farrah Joy talking.

  "Please, Momma," the girl continued, "It wouldn't be that much, only two or three thousand, and I could finish up on time, no problem. Daddy wanted me to go, and I'd pay you back. I promise."

  "Why should I do that?" her mother asked calmly.

  Farrah blinked.

  "I've been working for this for years, and I need the B. A. to get a job," she said, "Daddy and I talked about me getting my B. A. since I was little, you know that. He wanted someone in the family to have one."

  "Your father indulged you," her mother replied coldly, "I have no intention of doing so. He died and left me in charge, and I don't see how it is right or reasonable for me to pay for you to achieve some silly dream instead of doing the normal, sensible thing, and getting married."

  Farrah slid down the wall to the floor. Benny came over to her and whined, wagging his tail. She batted him away absent-mindedly.

  "Please, Momma," she whispered.

  "You're out of money. I will allow you to return. If you come home tomorrow, and put this behind you, I will help you find a good husband," her mother said. "If I don't see you tomorrow, I will assume you no longer want to be part of this family, and will not expect to see you again."

  The line went dead with a cool click. Farrah Joy held the phone against her belly and rested her forehead against her knees.

  She was out of options. Should she go back? She knew that her mother would help her if she went back, her mother always kept her word. Farrah just knew that she didn't want the life or husband that her mother would help her find.

  Her eyes burned and she blinked fiercely, trying not to cry. Instead, she sat up and pulled Benny onto her lap, dropping the phone to the end of its cord and ignoring it. She didn't want her mother to try and call her back.

  She heard Monica walk into the kitchen, bare feet padding softly, and ignored her, leaning on Benny and his warm fur and cheerful panting.

  "You need to get the hell out of here," Monica said, matter-of-factly.

  "I don't want to go back," Farrah Joy replied, still not looking away from the dog.

  "Oh, sweet lord, no. You can't go back now, don't be ridiculous," Monica said, "You jus
t need to get out of this kitchen."

  Farrah sighed.

  "I don't have anywhere to go, that's the problem," she said.

  “Sure you do,” she said, “You know me, and I always know somewhere to go.”

  ---------------------

  Three hours later, Farrah Joy was bored as hell at the badass biker gang party. Her roommate had made her dress up and dragged her out to the biggest chapter in down, but she was tired and not really interested. The music was too loud, the smoke was too thick, and the people were too drunk.

  Of course, Farrah Joy reflected, she was well on her way to total drunkenness herself. She didn’t really see anything better to do, so she just kept working away at red solo cups of awful beer.

  The club was only a mile from the campus, a quick walk through the forest, and even though it was strictly forbidden, a lot of coeds would walk over in pairs and groups to have a little risky fun. Looking around, she suspected that some of the high school girls in town came over here too, although she hoped that she was wrong.

  She knew that Monica, even though she said that she wanted to cheer Farrah up, wanted her there for moral support, because it was the night that the members chose the Biker Babe, who presided over badass biker gang functions for the rest of the year and, in Monica’s words, “had her pick of the hot badass biker gang guys, God, Farrah, can you imagine?”

  According to Monica, the Biker Babes usually ended up going steady with the highest tier of the club members, tough men that they met through the club and liked to spoil their girls, and Farrah Joy had to admit that she would love a chance at getting into that kind of money.

  She knew that her name was probably in the running, because she was there, and female, but she didn't really expect to be chosen - and, if she was honest with herself, she was terrified at the very idea.

  Her shirt had a big sticker on it with an identifying number, like all the other girls. Farrah Joy was Biker Babe Contestant Number 38.

  She'd heard rumors about the Biker Babe party since she arrived on-campus. Apparently, the Biker Babe was chosen by a majority secret ballot vote from the badass biker gang members... and then all of them had dibs to fuck her within 48 hours.

  The girls who showed up all knew what they were getting into, and they could refuse any badass biker gang member or any act, but it was widely known that the more open the Queen was, the more successful the badass biker gang parties would be for the entire coming year.

  She was like a groundhog in February, looked at as a sort of weird-ass predictor of six more weeks of getting blackout drunk, Farrah Joy thought, amusing herself while she watched Monica flirt outrageously with one of the leaders of the club.

  Farrah Joy did notice that she never had to get her own drinks, guys kept walking up and giving them to her. She wouldn't normally take drinks from strangers, but Monica was there sort-of watching her, and besides, she wanted to have some fun.

  Another man came over and stood next to her. He was over six feet tall and broad, with tight muscles and a strong jaw. His dirty blonde hair was in a messy ponytail, and he had a five o’clock shadow. Any girl she knew would do a double-take to see him on the street from looks alone.

  It wasn’t his looks that were stunning Farrah Joy, though. The sense of confidence, power, and danger that radiated from him made her shrink a little more, even as her body responded to it and she found herself longing to lean on his broad chest.

  “Hey, pretty girl,” he said.

  Farrah stared at him, wide-eyed.

  “I’m here with Monica,” she said immediately.

  “Which one is that?” the young man asked. He had to be in his late 20’s, in denim and black leather that strained over his muscles. His eyes were green and bright and she found herself wanting to keep staring into them.

  Hastily, she blinked and looked away.

  She nodded at Monica - “Nice girls do not point, are you a nice girl or not, Farrah Joy?” - and said “The pretty blonde girl in the minidress. We’re roommates at college.”

  The man nodded solemnly.

  “Yes, she looks quite studious,” he said. At that moment, Monica was laughing and sputtering as a large man probably twice her age poured beer into her mouth. Her head was tilted back and her eyes were shut.

  “She makes really good grades,” Farrah Joy said, lamely.

  “Do you?” the biker asked.

  Farrah nodded.

  “Why are two pretty girls like you at college?” he asked.

  She sighed.

  “I’m not always sure about Monica, she looks, well, silly sometimes, but she’s really smart and her family knows people, she says she’s going to New York City after graduation,” Farrah said.

  He nodded and smiled at Farrah.

  “Sweetheart, I know Monica. I’m interested in you. Haven’t seen a pretty girl like you in the corner of a party like this before,” he said.

  Farrah took a sip of her beer and looked away for a minute. “I might need to drop out and go home tomorrow,” she said.

  He shook his head.

  “That seems like a waste,” he says. “You’re Monica’s age, right? Almost finished?”

  She nodded and sniffled once, trying to hold back tears.

  “I’m out of money,” she admitted.

  She didn’t know why she was being so open with this stranger, but something about his bright green eyes compelled the truth from her.

  “Shit,” he said, and shook his head sympathetically.

  “So, why are you here?” he asked.

  Farrah Joy shrugged.

  “Monica wanted company,” she said.

  “Looks like she has plenty,” the stranger said, smirking a little. “Don’t you want company?”

  Farrah shook her head immediately.

  “No way,” she said, “Not that type of company.”

  “Shame,” the strange young man said, his green eyes flashing with mirth at Farrah Joy, “You’re pretty cute, I’d be happy to be company for you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Only the ones who are worth it,” he said, a challenge in his tone.

  “Oh, yeah?” she asked. “What makes a girl worth it?”

  Farrah Joy wanted him. She didn’t know why, but she wanted him in a way she’d never wanted a boy or man before. She felt herself craving his approval and his touch.

  She only hoped she sounded casual.

  “Well, she has to be pretty,” he said, reaching out and poking her nose. She flinched, startled, but didn’t look away.

  “She has to be smart,” he continued. “I’m tired of,” he waved his hand, “All these girls that are only pleasant to be around when they’re around your dick.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Farrah said, nodding seriously, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous it was for her to be talking to a strange man about something that crude.

  “Most of all, though,” he said, stroking his thumb under her chin and making her gasp and tremble with the surprising pleasure of his touch, “She has to be game. I’m used to girls who will fuck anyone I tell them to, I would never want to let some prissy bitch on the back of my hog.”

  Farrah stared at him with wide eyes.

  “Sounds like a tall order,” she said finally.

  “I don’t know, princess,” he said, pulling his hand away and grinning an enormous saucy grin at her, “You are pretty, and you have to be smart if Monica will put up with living with you.”

  She blushed and ducked her head a little.

  “I wonder, though,” he mused, “Are you game?”

  Farrah Joy shook her head immediately.

  “Shame,” he said, and turned and walked away.

  She stared after him. She couldn’t quite decide how she felt - irritated, turned on, shocked… strangest of all, though, she felt, well, interested. She wanted to please him and prove that she was game, and she really wanted to ride on his
hog.

  Why should she care if he thought she was prissy? She didn’t know this man.

  "All right, my drunken friends," she heard a deep voice call, "Shut the fuck up and calm the fuck down, it's time for the Devil’s Cowboys Babe to be chosen!"

  Farrah Joy shrank back a little deeper into her shadowy corner and watched as a handsome man, who had to be in his late 20’s, jumped onto a table in the middle of the room, waited for people to hush up and gather, as much as they could, into the large main room. It was the same man she’d been speaking with, and she could see that the power she thought radiated from him in her tiny corner wasn’t all in her mind, she could see the men responding to his presence.