"Yeah, we're the Harpies. You called and told us to come and play at nine tonight."
"Oh, that's right," he replied with feigned flash of recollection. "It’s just that you look more like a high school cheerleader than a rocker."
Helen flinched at the comment, unsure if he'd just insulted her or not.
"You promised us 4500k for tonight," Helen confirmed as she regained her composure.
"1500k for each of you," the bar owner confirmed. "You'll get paid afterwards."
Helen leaned forward and planted her hands on the bar, trying to look intimidating.
"Don't even think about cheating us," she threatened. "You should hear what happened to the last guy who tried to cheat us out of our cash."
"Nice tits, by the way," the guy replied smoothly.
The comment short circuited Helen's tough exterior.
"Excuse me?" she asked.
"Your tats," he responded, pointing to the harpy-girl tattoo on Helen's chest. "I like it."
Helen glanced down at her chest. She was wearing an open necked T-shirt which exposed her rack as well as her harpy tattoo. The guy had definitely not been referring to her tattoo, but she found herself at a loss for words all the same. His body may have been rough around the edges, but his tongue was as sharp as a razor.
"Never mind my tits," Helen shot back belatedly. "You'll never get your hands on them."
"Sure." He smirked back.
Something about that smirk unnerved Helen even more than the sharp comments and the bar full of mean-looking bikers. This guy wasn't like any of the male fans she'd brushed off. They were all horny teenage boys who could only dream of getting their hands up her skirt. This guy was different. That self-assured smirk on his face, accompanied by a curious glint in his eyes, made it look like he'd marked her as his target. She hadn't issued him a demoralizing put-down—she'd issued him a challenge, and the smirk made it look like he'd accepted it.
"Your band mates are here," the bar owner remarked, gesturing to one end of the bar.
Helen followed his finger and saw that an improvised stage had already been created for them. Kat and Dana were already there, setting up the drum equipment and microphones.
"I have to get ready," Helen said. She turned to get on stage.
"You haven't told me your name yet," the bar owner called after her.
"Helen," she replied without thinking. "Helen Hall. And you?"
"Lee Evans."
"Nice to meet you, Lee Evans." With that said, Helen turned around and headed for the stage, trying not to wonder if Lee Evans was watching her ass move as she walked. Kat and Dana were probably right to warn against coming here. But it wasn't the thugs in biker jackets that made Helen feel vulnerable—it was the owner of the smirking face behind the bar counter.
***
All three Harpies helped finish setting up the band's equipment before they started their sound checks, all the while casting nervous glances at their audience. None of their regular fans were visible in the crowd of leather-clad bikers. Presumably none of them had the balls, or the stupidity, to enter the Viking Bar. If the bikers got rowdy, which they almost certainly would, there would be no cops to save them. The Harpies had effectively been invited to perform in the lion's den with a pack of hungry lions watching, and they'd been dumb enough to accept. Still, they had a show to do. And the only way to get out unscathed, and with cash in hand, was to play and to play well.
Helen stepped up to the mike and looked nervously at the assembled bikers. There was no need to get their attention with a little announcement or introduction. They were already watching. Plucking up her courage, Helen began to sing. Her a cappella introduction instantly enraptured the bikers, who sat up in their seats to listen. Beers were put down and seats were turned as the Vikings MC gave the night's entertainment their full attention.
Helen finished her solo and the rest of the band joined in. With Kat on the drums and Dana on the bass guitar, all three girls performed with their hearts and souls, forgetting that this wasn't their usual audience. Slowly the audience began to clap along as the beat entered their heads. The bikers may have looked like muscle-bound hooligans, but they were a remarkably disciplined audience. There was no yelling or screaming of the lyrics, no pushing and shoving, no scuffles between fans who got shoved—they just sat in their seats and clapped along, albeit with growing enthusiasm. None of this was what the Harpies were used to, but when they'd finished playing their first song, it was clear that the bikers had enjoyed it. A round of enthusiastic applause erupted from the floor amongst the bikers, many of whom rose to their feet, releasing a few whoops of approval.
Encouraged by the favorable response, the Harpies started on their next song. The bikers were just as avid about the Harpies' second performance as their first. None knew the words, but they continued to clap and some even hummed the tune after a while. The encouragement worked both ways. As they finished their second song they went straight into the third, playing even more energetically than before. Before this night none of the girls would have guessed that bikers would be into rock and roll, but the connection was obvious. The Harpies' newest fans loved every second of their performance, and they applauded after each song with obvious enthusiasm, minus the chaotic fanaticism of their usual fan base. Any of the Harpies' other fans who might have tried their usual antics here would probably be given a nasty beating and a boot in the rear.
After an hour of performing, the Harpies finally finished their gig. The bikers gave them a standing ovation and the girls took nervous bows before starting to pack up. The bikers too began to file out and head home, ordering last rounds of beer for the road home before leaving. The whole spectacle was pretty surreal to the rock band. Never once had they performed before an audience which had left the premises so smoothly and calmly. Normally the police would be escorting some of their fans out, but not here. The bikers weren't rowdy teenage boys and girls who couldn't hold their liquor or control themselves, and the cops probably wouldn't dare come down here anyway.
By the time the last of the bikers had left the bar, the Harpies had finished packing up and were ready to pick up their cash and go home. Lee Evans walked over with wads of cash in hand, giving one to each girl.
"1500 bucks each, as promised." Kat and Dana thanked him and started counting the cash. Helen put her cash straight in the pocket of her skirt without counting it.
As Kat and Dana were counting, Lee made eye contact with Helen. The look in his deep blue eyes was impossible to gauge, but something about those blue eyes transfixed Helen, making her unable to move—or perhaps unwilling to.
"You guys go on home," Helen said to band mates. "I'll see you back at the flat later on."
Kat and Dana exchanged puzzled glances.
"How're you gonna get back?" Dana asked.
"I'll get a taxi or something," Helen replied. "You go home and get some sleep."
Kat and Dana glanced nervously at Lee, wondering if it was safe to leave their best friend alone with him.
"Okay," Kat said reluctantly. "You have the phone number of the flat, right Hell?"
"Yeah, I've got it memorized," Helen answered. "Goodnight."
Kat and Dana quietly left the stage and headed out to the pickup truck, leaving Helen alone with Lee.
"That was a hell of a performance, Hell," Lee complimented with a disarming smirk.
"Only my friends call me 'Hell,'" Helen replied a little defensively.
"Okay, Helen. That was still a great performance you gave."
"Most of the places we perform at get smashed up," Helen mused.
"So I've heard," Lee said. "I got a call from the owner of some bar across town who told me the Harpies' fans had trashed his bar, and that he'd been 'strong armed' into paying you anyway."
"That was me, actually," Helen replied with a vicious smile even though it wasn't technically something to be proud of.
"Well, he warned me not to invite you over to play any gigs," Lee continued.
"He said you were out of control, and that your fans would wreck the place."
"We were worried you might not be able to handle us," Helen said coolly as she tried to keep up a haughty, aloof exterior. "To be fair to the guy who called you up, that's what usually happens when we play."
"Well not over here," Lee replied. "Anyone who makes trouble in the Viking Bar gets booted straight out the door after getting the crap kicked out of them."
Helen couldn't imagine why on earth she'd decided to stay behind at the bar with this guy. She knew nothing about him, but his cool, confident demeanor—not to mention the way he looked at her--made shivers run up and down her spine. But something about him made very strange feelings stir inside her. He was undoubtedly good looking; in fact, he was downright sexy. It was obvious he wanted her body, and if the tingling in her groin was anything to go by, she wanted his too.
The conversation had stalled, and Lee was waiting coolly for an answer.
"So, where do you live?" Helen asked the first question that popped into her head.
"Through there," Lee pointed to a door at the back of the bar. "Do you wanna see?"
There was only one reason why a guy would invite her back to his place, but she had asked, and she'd also opted to stay behind to talk to him. She had no choice but to go with him.
"Alright, show me," Helen said with an almost pretentious air. She walked straight past Lee’s proffered hand before stopping right in front of him and looking up into his eyes.
"You can look, but don't touch," Helen whispered to Lee. She said it with far more confidence than she felt, but it was far from discouraging him—she heard him inhale sharply in response. Once again, she'd challenged him, and he would almost certainly rise to it.
"Right this way," Lee gestured.
He led Helen through the back door marked "Employees Only", past the kitchen and storage units, to a set of rooms at the back.
The rooms formed a fully equipped mini-apartment with a spacious bedroom and its own attached bathroom. Biker paraphernalia decorated the room, including a framed photograph of Lee above the double bed. As Helen looked at the photo more closely, she saw that the photo was actually a police mug-shot.
"What was the charge?" Helen asked out of curiosity.
"Assault," Lee replied. "Two guys attacked me and I beat them both to a pulp."
"So which one put up more of a fight," Helen asked. "The cripple or the old guy?"
Lee laughed off the barbed question. "The old man was tough as nails," he replied smoothly.
Helen found herself in an awkward position. She was dressed in a revealing outfit, in a strange guy's bedroom, with the guy himself cornering her, blocking her escape route. But she didn't feel under threat. If anything, she felt drawn to this man. Why else would she have followed him into his bedroom?
"I want you, Helen," Lee said, taking a step towards her. "And it's obvious you want me too, or else you wouldn't be here now."
Helen had run out of options and excuses. It was obvious what he wanted from her, and she could no longer deny that the feeling was mutual. His devastatingly good looks, his powerfully muscled body, his infectious smile, and his disarmingly sharp wit—all of it combined to melt away the last of her defenses. Ever since she'd started playing in a band, all she'd lived for was the music. There was no room for sex. But her body's hunger for it was overwhelming now. It was time to give in.
Helen threw her apprehension to the winds and lunged at Lee, kissing him hungrily. He reciprocated the kiss and started to run his hands up and down her body, lifting her T-shirt up over her shoulders and dropping it on the floor. Helen reached under his shirt and ran her hands across his sculpted abdomen, feeling out the grooves that defined his six-pack. Lee pulled up his shirt and tugged it over his head, tossing it onto the floor beside her own.
Helen allowed her lover to pin her against a bedside cabinet as they kissed. She allowed his tongue to invade her mouth, and she allowed his hands to explore her body, undoing the clasp of her bra to leave her breasts exposed. He teased her nipples, eliciting a muffled moan of pleasure from her lips. It did occur to her that earlier she had specifically told him he'd never get his hands on her tits—and yet now here he was violating her wishes and nearly every boundary she'd set up. But the violation was welcome. Helen hadn't had anything resembling a love life since she, Dana, and Kat had started the Harpies. Rock music had been her love and her life. Now though, her body's long suppressed instincts were reasserting themselves. She wanted this man to take her. She wanted Lee as much as he wanted her.
Lee's kisses began to move south. He planted his lips on her neck before moving down towards her chest, expertly cupped his lips around each of her nipples before moving further down towards her belly. Lee planted his mouth on her navel piercing and used his tongue to tease the jeweled barbell and Helen giggled when it tickled her belly button. She'd never imagined anyone doing that to her, but it was pleasurable all the same.
After playing with Helen's belly piercing Lee moved his mouth even further down, beneath the hem of her skirt. Helen hesitated suddenly, sitting back on the bedside cabinet as she tried instinctively to move her pussy away from this ravenous stranger's mouth and its invading tongue. But she’d already let him go this far—there wasn't much she could do to stop him getting at her womanhood.
Lee's head reemerged from under Helen's skirt.
"You're not wearing any panties," he noted hungrily.
"I forgot to put them on this morning." Helen responded sheepishly.
With a dirty smile, Lee disappeared beneath her miniskirt again and planted his lips between her legs. Helen craned her neck backwards and spread her thighs reflexively as Lee expertly kissed and sucked at the fleshy doors of her feminine gateway. His tongue darted in and out of her cunt, passing through the holes in her fishnet stockings to get to the undefended treasure between her legs. As he repeatedly planted his lips on her sex, he also tickled and teased her clitoris with the tip of his tongue. The resulting pleasure was exquisite to say the least.
Helen was helpless. Not only to the man between her thighs, but to the pleasure that his mouth created in her. The real reason she hadn't put on any panties was to make herself feel sexy on stage. In spite of trying to sideline any place for sex in her life, Helen was perfectly happy using her body to excite the Harpies' fans. She loved nothing more than to play and perform onstage, but she also liked to tease the fans with her body. It gave her a sexually-charged sense of power to know that many of her male fans—and possibly a few female ones as well—would go to bed fantasizing about her pussy.
In all that time, Helen had never once imagined that someone would actually get at her lower regions. And yet here she was with a man between her legs, licking and lapping away at her most powerful onstage weapon. It was profoundly disempowering to have a man pleasure her most vulnerable point, and yet it was happening, and it felt so heavenly. Helen closed her thighs around Lee's ears and planted her hands on his head. She ran her fingers through his fine, blond hair, surrendering herself to the disarming pleasure growing in her cunt. At long last, the pleasure became too much to hold back, and Helen squealed aloud as an orgasm set fire to her vagina. The pleasure bloomed up from her groin through the base of her belly and she gripped Lee's hair as tightly as she could, forcing him to continue setting her pussy on fire. Her lover eagerly lapped up her pleasure and he continued to lick and suck even as her orgasm began to subside; now, his own needs demanded satisfaction.
Lee reemerged from beneath Helen's miniskirt and stood again. Still delirious with ecstasy, Helen didn't resist when he scooped her up off the bedside table and lifted her bodily into the air. Helen wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bed. He lowered her gently down onto her back and positioned himself between her stocking-clad thighs.
By this point Helen was a far cry from the tough, no-bullshit punk rocker that had walked into the Viking Bar earlier in the ev
ening. Lee Evans had awakened feelings inside of her that she had tried to suppress for a long time. Sexual teasing had been nothing more than a tool to excite fans of the band, but sex was never supposed to hold a central place in her life. It was all about the music. The slick and handsome biker was turning all of that thinking on its head as he removed Helen's shoes and carefully rolled down her stockings. Helen lay submissively on her back as her lover pulled down his pants and kicked them off along with his shoes. Now naked, he crawled forward between Helen's naked thighs to claim the prize between them.
When Helen looked up and saw the hardened rod of masculinity moving towards her womanhood, her sexual reverie temporarily broken. Lee's cock was long and thick, and she doubted it would fit inside her. Moreover, her feisty, aggressive side started to reassert itself. She'd always been a girl who could handle herself and kick the ass of anyone and anything that got in her way. She wasn't totally prepared to surrender all of that to a complete stranger. But then Helen looked up again at the embodiment of masculine majesty looming over her, and realized it was too late to pull out now. She had taken the risk of getting herself alone with this devilishly charming man, and she had to surrender to the consequences.
Step on It: A Biker Erotic Romance Page 2