LOVER COME BACK_An Unbelievable But True Love Story

by Scott Hildreth

  Teddy gasped. “Holy shit.”

  I realized I’d lost my train of thought and looked up. “What?”

  He gestured toward the storefront windows. “Is that her?”

  Dressed in a pair of loose-fitting pants, heels, and a flowing top with a plunging neckline, Jess was walking toward the front door. Her hair was up, in a braided bun. A few delicate curls dangled along each side of her face.

  I grinned at the sight of her. “That’d be her.”

  “She’s uhhm.” He swallowed hard. “She’s a pretty fucker.”

  I walked toward the door. “Don’t say anything stupid.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll do my best.”

  I pushed the door open. “Have any problems finding the place?”

  “Nope. It was right where you said it would be.” She hugged me, and then peered over my shoulder. “You must be Teddy.”

  Without hesitation, she strode toward him. The uneasy look he was wearing earlier promptly returned. In addition to not trusting people, Teddy was extremely nervous in the presence of women. So much so that he often did or said things that were extremely embarrassing.

  She extended her hand. Teddy wiped his palm on the thigh of his jeans, and then looked at it before offering it to her. After wiping it a second time, he shook her hand.

  “Is that your real hair color?” he asked.

  “No.” She brushed one of the curls away from her face with a wave of her hand. “I’m a brunette. I’m a hairstylist, so the color is always changing.”

  Teddy had a thing for blondes, and I knew the moment he met Jess that he’d like her for that reason alone.

  “I like that color,” he said. “It looks good.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Should we all go to lunch?” I asked.

  “I like the way you’ve got it fixed, too,” Teddy said. “Wedding hair always looks good. Especially when it’s blond.”

  Jess gave him a look. “Wedding hair?”

  “Isn’t that what it’s called? When it’s up like that?”

  “It’s a chignon,” Jess said. “It’s a fancy name for a bun.”

  “Well, I like it.”

  “Should we all go to lunch?” I asked, raising the tone of my voice slightly.

  Teddy took a step back. After looking her over from head to toe, he gave a nod of approval. “I like those pants.”

  Her pants were white and covered in various geometric shapes. They fit her butt like a second skin yet hung loosely around her legs. She wore the style quite often, claiming they hid the size of her thighs, which she described as thick.

  “Fun pants,” Jess said. “That’s what I call them.”

  His brows knitted together. “Why’s that?”

  She shrugged. “Because they’re fun.”

  “Quit being weird, Teddy,” I said in a snide tone. I raised my brows. “Should we all go get lunch?”

  Teddy scowled at me. “I’m not being weird. I was being nice.”

  “You’re being weird.”

  “Hitting guys in the head with rocks is weird,” he said. “This is normal.”

  Jess spun around. “You hit a guy in the head with a rock?”

  I glared at Teddy, and then shifted my gaze to Jess. “No.”

  She looked at Teddy.

  “He didn’t hit the guy with it, but he had it ready,” he said. “Just in case he didn’t apologize.”

  She faced me. “Apologize for what?”

  “Being a shithead,” I said.

  She cocked her hip. “Seriously? You had a rock, and everything?”

  I shrugged. “The guy flipped us off.”

  Her glare sharpened. “So, you were going to hit him with a rock?”

  Considering her composure, I figured I needed to downplay the use of the rock. Discussing it made the event sound much worse than it was. At the time it seemed like a practical choice.

  Now, it seemed ridiculous.

  “If it would have just been him,” I said. “I wouldn’t have had the rock. I would have just beat his ass. But, he had three friends with him. I needed an equalizer.”

  Her brows raised. “You were going to fight four guys? With a rock?”

  I turned my palms up and shrugged.

  She looked at Teddy.

  He nodded.

  She turned to face me. “Four? With a rock. You would have gone right back to prison.”

  “I couldn’t let him get away with flipping me off,” I snapped back. “Right is right, and wrong is wrong. He was wrong.”

  “But you didn’t hit him with it?”

  “Didn’t need to. He apologized.”

  “Why’d he flip you off?” she asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “I was just curious.”

  “We were sitting outside at a bar under the covered patio. When we left, he said our motorcycles were too loud. They interrupted his football game.”

  She scrunched her nose. “So, he flipped you guys off? That’s kinda dumb.”

  “Precisely,” I said.

  “Threatening him with a rock is dumber, though.”

  “I didn’t threaten him with a rock,” I said. “I just threatened to beat the shit out of him. I had the rock in my pocket just in case.”

  “That’s better, I guess.” She shook her head dismissively, and then looked at me. “I wonder about you sometimes.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Teddy said.

  I glanced at them both. The choices I made weren’t the same decisions others would make, but to me they made perfect sense. The last thing I needed was to have someone second-guessing my manner of handling my life’s problems.

  I turned toward the door. “I’m going to lunch. If you two do-gooders want to go with me, that’s fine. If not, you can sit here and talk about how you would have hugged your way out of the situation.”

  “Don’t get mad,” Jess said.

  I turned toward the door. “I’m not mad.”

  “Seems mad, doesn’t he?” Teddy asked.

  “Kind of,” Jess agreed.

  I wasn’t mad. Disappointed would be a more accurate statement. I liked Jess. I simply didn’t need someone telling me what was right or wrong with my way of doing things, or with my life.

  I’d never let anyone tell me what to do, and I certainly wasn’t going to start with her.

  Chapter Nine

  Another month passed. Jess and I had become inseparable. She was filling an undeniable void in my life that I’d had for years but wasn’t willing to admit. I was only making half as much money as I was accustomed to, but I was twice as happy as I’d ever been. I attributed that happiness to the time Jess and I shared together.

  I pulled into her driveway and parked. She lived in a duplex, occupying one side of the building while a co-worker and friend resided on the other. Before I took my first step, Jess’ co-worker opened her front door and poked her head through the opening. Her hair was brown, except for two thick strands, which were golden blond.

  “You must be Scott,” she said.

  “I am,” I responded. “You must be Sasha.”

  “I am.” She gestured toward me with her hand. “I like the sleeve.”

  I waved and took a step toward the porch. “Thank you.”

  “What are you guys up to?” she asked.

  I paused. “Just going for a cup of coffee.”

  She stepped onto the porch and shielded her eyes from the sun. “Seems like you guys drink a lot of coffee.”

  I grinned and took a few more steps. “We do.”

  “I like your car.”

  I let out a mental sigh. “Thank you.”

  “What was prison like?”

  I sighed, this time for real. “It’s pretty uneventful. Boring, really.”

  It was far from boring, but I wasn’t willing to share prison stories with someone I didn’t know.

  “Really? I’ve got a friend who has a brother that went to prison. He’s
got a million stories to tell.”

  “If he’s got more than two or three, they’re lies,” I said with a laugh.

  “Do you think so?”

  “I’m sure of it,” I said flatly.

  I made it to the porch before she hit me with the next question. “So, you’re in a motorcycle club?”

  “I am.”

  “Like Sons of Anarchy?”

  “Exactly,” I said, hoping to satisfy her curiosity.

  “Why do you pick her up in your car all the time? Why don’t you ride your motorcycle?”

  “Women don’t ride on the back of my bike,” I said. “Unless I’m in a relationship with them.”

  Her eyes thinned. “Aren’t you two in a relationship?”

  “Kind of,” I said. “But not really. It’s complicated.”

  I rang Jess’ doorbell. The door opened, revealing a half-dressed Jess. Dressed in cut-off sweat shorts, a lace black push-up style bra, and nothing else, she held the door open.

  “Get in here,” she whispered.

  I tore my eyes away from Jess’ boobs and waved at the neighbor. “Nice to meet you.”

  Before she could respond, I stepped inside. Jess turned toward the hallway. Her hair was straight and much longer than I expected it to be – draping over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back.

  “I’ve got to finish my makeup,” she said over her shoulder.

  I looked around the living room. “I’ll wait in here.”

  “You can wait in my room while I get ready, silly. It’ll just be a few minutes.”

  Her boobs were boiling out the top of her bra, and I wasn’t certain I could be in her presence without becoming aroused to the point of making a fool of myself. To date, I’d seen her dressed, or not at all.

  I gestured toward her loveseat. “I’ll just wait in here.”

  She crossed her arms and huffed out a sigh. When she did, her boobs heaved. My cock responded with a noticeable twitch.

  I shoved my hand in my pocket and pressed the heel of my palm against it, hoping to deter any further erection developments.

  I turned away. “I’ll just—”

  She grabbed my wrist. “Come on.”

  Reluctantly, I followed her into the bedroom. While I sat on the edge of the bed, she sat on the floor and did her makeup in front of a full-length wall mirror.

  With her back to me, she talked as she worked. I listened intently and responded as need be, all the while gawking at her boobs in the mirror’s reflection. Within seconds, I had a full-fledged hard-on.

  Embarrassed, and not sure how to conceal the rock-hard chunk of flesh, I fidgeted with her decorative pillows. After opting to smash one into my lap, I looked up.

  She was buttoning her blouse.

  “Does this bra look silly with this top?” she asked.

  “I uhhm. I don’t think so,” I stammered. “Why?”

  “The top is sheer, and the bra is black.”

  “Looks fine to me.”

  “I don’t like it,” she said.

  Before I had a chance to argue, she was standing before me without her top. Then, her bra hit the floor. She covered the majority of her boobs with her biceps, but there was a lot to cover. Little, if anything, was left to the imagination.

  My slowly recovering male anatomy went stiff as a stone.

  She pulled open a dresser drawer and snatched a nude bra from the selection of neatly arranged undergarments. When she did, I got a glimpse of the side of her boob.

  I was forty-seven years old and had a raging hard-on that was derived from seeing a girl’s boobs. A girl who I knew I wasn’t going to have sex with. I felt like I was in high school again. Watching her stuff her massive boobs into her bra was like witnessing a train wreck.

  I simply couldn’t look away.

  She put on her top, making eye contact with me several times as she buttoned it. Her innocence, in my eyes, faded away. It was replaced with a streak of orneriness. After she buttoned the last button, she looked right at me.

  “Ready?” she asked, her mouth twisted into a taunting smirk.

  “Sure,” I said. “In just a minute.”

  “Let’s go now.” She yanked the pillow from my lap.

  Her eyes locked on the denim tent my cock was pitching. “Oh. Wow.” She looked up. “Everything okay?”

  “I’m not used to watching someone get dressed,” I said.

  “Sooo,” she said, drawing the word out for a few seconds. “You still want to go?”

  “As soon as I can stand,” I said.

  “Are you sure?”

  I didn’t want to go. I wanted to undress her, toss her on the bed, and have my way with her. But. I knew it wasn’t in our friendship’s best interest.

  I sighed. “Yes.”

  The look of disappointment that covered her face was enough to thwart any more blood flow to my nether region. In a few seconds, I stood.

  “I’m ready if you are,” I said.

  With her face washed with disappointment, she stepped to my left side and gripped the inside of my bicep. “Let’s do it.”

  She was nothing short of remarkable. I couldn’t help but wonder, however, how long I could continue our relationship without making sexual advancements.

  I further wondered just how long it would be before she either did the same or threw in the towel.

  When we pulled into the donut shop, Chico’s bike was parked on the sidewalk in front of the building. He lived in the same area as Jessica did, which was only a few blocks away.

  “That’s one of the fellas,” I said with a nod.

  “It’s okay if we go in?” she asked.

  I’d made it clear with her that the club’s business was private, and not to ask questions. As a matter of respect, I’d shared very little, if anything, about any of the men, including their names.

  Teddy was the only exception, and he gave his approval.

  “It’ll be fine,” I said. “Don’t ask him anything. I mean, if he talks to you, you can participate in the conversation. Just don’t ask about the club. Use your best judgement.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  I had faith that she wouldn’t do anything to embarrass me.

  I walked inside with her attached to my left elbow. As soon as we cleared the door, Chico looked up. His sunken eyes were bloodshot, and I could see it from thirty feet away.

  “Ay, chihuahua!” he announced. “Miss Yessica!”

  “What do you want me to do?” she whispered. “He’s scary.”

  He was wearing a bandana, which was folded into a three-inch wide strap and stretched across his forehead. When combined with his goatee and deep summer tan, he resembled a Chicano gang member who’d ridden into town from Los Angeles.

  “He’s harmless,” I assured her.

  He stood, almost falling over in the process. Obviously drunk, I suspected he hadn’t been home since the night before. After steadying himself, he opened his arms.

  It was common for bikers, us included, to greet one another with a hug. When I began to walk in his direction, he coughed out a laugh.

  “Not you.” He nodded toward Jess. “I wanna hug her.”

  Wearing a smile that I expected was false, Jess gave him a hug. After they broke their embrace, Chico slapped the top of the table with his fingertips. “Have a seat, Yessica.”

  Jess glanced at me.

  “You don’t need his approval,” he said. “Sit down.”

  She sat down across from him. “You look sad.”

  “I am,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because where I live, girls that look like you don’t exist. They’re all fugly.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “What’s fugly?”

  “Fucking ugly,” he said. “Fugly.”

  She laughed. “Oh.”

  “Go get your drinks, ‘Mano,” he said. “I’ll protect her while you’re gone.”

  “I’ll be right back,” I said.

  Th
ere was an unwritten rule that held true with all motorcycle clubs. One man didn’t mess with another man’s woman, nor did he treat her with disrespect, regardless of what he thought of her.

  I knew Jess was in good hands with Chico, whether she realized it or not.

  I returned in a few minutes, coffees in tow. When I did, Jess was laughing out loud at a story Chico was telling. Although I shouldn’t have been, I felt a little jealous seeing her have such a good time with him.

  So far, I’d separated Jess from my MC brethren. For no other reason than protecting the club was why I told myself I’d done it, but I now wondered if I was being truthful in that reasoning. As she caught her breath from laughing, I felt my blood pressure rise.

  I set her cup of coffee down in front of her and took a seat at her side.

  I clenched my coffee cup with both hands, almost smashing it in the process. “What’s so funny?”

  “He was telling me a story about when you ate some Thai food,” Jess explained. “He said you ended up in the hospital after almost bleeding to death from a ruptured hemorrhoid.”

  Of all the stories for him to tell, he had to tell her that one. I pushed my coffee to the side and glared at him.

  “Why don’t you tell her the story about when you tried to eat that oyster, El Vato?”

  “Because it’s not funny.”

  “I think it’s funny.”

  He folded his tattooed arms across his chest and shot me a glare. “I don’t.”

  “Let’s let Jess decide.”

  “Let’s not.”

  “I want to hear it,” she said.

  While Chico shot a laser sharp glare in my direction, I began to tell the story. “We rode down to Corpus Christi and ended up in this dive of a bar that served fresh seafood. Chico had been drinking since about six am, and it was six in the evening. King ordered oysters on the half shell. Chico got up and went to the bathroom, and when he got back, he decided he wanted to try one. There was only one left, but King agreed to let him have it. Being a Kansas native, he hadn’t had ‘em before. So, he picked up the shell, looked at it, and then looked at King. ‘How do you eat one of these fuckers?’, he asked. King explained that you just suck it off the shell, chew it once, and swallow it. So, Chico gave it a try. After rolling it around in his mouth for five minutes and almost barfing two or three times, he eventually swallowed it.”