I almost jumped at Lu’s voice in my ear, “So, Christa, wait in here or brave the barn?” Confused, shaken and unsure how much longer I could trust myself in the bar, I chose the barn.
Out back, an old barn loomed over the lot and the noise of a rowdy crowd, yells, roars and thumps came from the dark interior. The door was partly ajar, and so we slipped inside.
Two girls with heavy makeup and very light clothing glowered at me from the doorway, looking down at my sweater and sneering at my hair. I felt prim, dull, alien, and very unwelcome. As I decided that I wanted to leave, I saw over the girls’ shoulders what the draw in the barn was.
On a square platform, two men with bandaged fists, stripped to the waist and dripping in sweat, hunkered at each other. A bearded biker, big, burly and bald and a smaller ginger-haired guy with a ponytail, still heavy but shorter, more toned and fit-looking, circled each other like fierce cats until the larger man let out a yell and exploded a rain of punches into the smaller guy.
He sprayed hits into the body and neck and swung around at his smaller opponent’s head, hard, fast and repetitive. He seemed to land about half of his punches. Sweat, saliva and drops of blood cascaded and arced out above the ring. The fighters snarled and the crowd shouted and stamped.
My heart pounded and I was astonished to see that, without realizing it, I was edging closer to the ring. I had begun to mouth encouragement to the small ginger-haired fighter. Before I knew that I was moving at all, I was near enough to the ring to hear the fighter’s snorts of breath and the shuffle of their feet.
I was close enough to hear and almost feel the thump of knuckle and gristle on flesh, close enough for their sweat to spray my cheek. Close enough to smell them. My breath was hard and heavy. I felt hot in my chest, and in my panties.
The smaller biker backed away in a circle around the ring, and blocked the hale of blows as much as he could with his arms. He deflected with the backs of his hands, but the bigger man’s fists made a rattle of strikes on his body and neck.
None of the women in the barn were dancing. They weren’t making any sexual display, either, although most of them gripped tight to a man’s arm. Their tongues wet their parted lips and their eyes burned as they watched the two fighters.
The ginger boxer backed toward the corner of the ring, just a few feet from me. He opened his arms for a moment and the bigger man went in for the kill. He was suckered in. The shorter fighter dove forwards, low, firing volleys of punches straight to the big man’s stomach, and then one mighty jackhammer punch straight up into the big guy’s beard.
His bald head led his big body in a backwards arc and his arms went up as he went down. A roar filled the barn. Bikers were shouting, slapping each other on the backs and shoulders. Some were shaking their heads with their eyes cast down. Slowly I realized that my fists were clenched, and I was shouting.
I turned to look for Lu and I saw the tousled mop and the gray eyes from the shadows in the bar. An urge made me want to leap on the biker’s big, strong body and hug him. Hug him and much, much more. I wanted to feel his strength under his jacket and his sweatshirt. I wanted to find what was inside his jeans.
I almost did it. By ‘almost,’ I mean I actively had to stop myself from diving at him. By the wry, impish smile that stretched across his face, I think he knew it.
I ran out of the barn and into the cool night air outside. Lu and I had come to buy drugs, but I didn’t seem to need any. What were these dark and alien emotions? These uncontrolled and unconscious displays of mine, where did they come from? Suddenly I felt as though I didn’t know myself.
I realized that I hadn’t spotted Lu as I had rushed through the bikers to get out of the barn. I thought that I should probably go back in and find her, but as I looked back, I saw her in the darkness by the side of the barn.
She was with the tall, rangy biker who she had been talking to in the bar. They were pressed up tightly against each other. Their hands seemed to be working frantically in each other’s jeans. Their hips rocked in flowing waves and their thighs entwined and strained together.
Was I the only girl here who wasn’t actually having sex right now? If so, why? My pussy was aching, practically screaming for it. I was so confused and disturbed, I just wanted desperately to get out of there, but my ride was busy getting herself ridden.
I knew how conspicuous I was, though. Lu or the girls the bar could shake their bodies on biker cock and nobody was going to turn a hair. I was terrified, and pretty sure that if I did anything like that, I’d have to deal with the whole bar’s attention.
I couldn’t win. And I couldn’t stand it. I called out, “LU!”
She turned to look at me and her face burned with rage.
u was furious with me all the way back to town. Why didn’t I just hang out and chill? Or, why couldn’t I have just waited in the car? Or spent some fun time with any one of the bikers there? “Their eyes were all drinking you down like bourbon. You could have let yourself off the leash for a little bit of fun, couldn’t you? Just for fucking once in your life, Christa?”
Okay, so I learned a lot of things that night. Most of them were things I had been perfectly happy not knowing, like one of my best friends thought I was a prissy, uptight little madam. But hey fucking ho, c'est la fucking vie, eh?
Mainly I discovered that there were a whole lot of emotions seething beneath the surface of myself that I had simply never encountered before, and that was a big shock. The way that I had felt watching those two boxers slugging at each other was completely out of the blue.
And the way that I’d almost been ready to join that girl sucking off the biker in public, in a bar, in front of whoever. I had no idea that would be my reaction. Or jump on that biker. What had I even seen of him? His size, his shape. His eyes.
Lu and I put on the best faces we could for Mandy’s birthday, but both of us were preoccupied. When we told Mandy what had happened, she said, “Well, that place sounds great. Let’s finish these drinks and head back there,” but I couldn’t face it and even Lu could see that it was too late for a week night.
At the club, some guys came to our table to buy us drinks, et cetera, but even though they were probably a year or two older than us and they looked the smart, professional types, somehow they just seemed like schoolboys to me.
Lu became more miserable with each drink, and so we all agreed to cut the evening, go home and rest up for the next day. My disturbed dreams began that night.
On my way home next evening I passed the thrift store and saw in the window an old black worn and battered leather jacket. I tried it with a little black lacy crop top, and the girl in the store suggested a pair of jeans with rips straight across the thighs.
When I got home, I tried it all on again, just to see how it looked. I had a pile of marking and preparation to do for tomorrow’s lessons, but it wouldn’t hurt just to take a look.
I decided that the denims would be better with the legs cut right off. I cut them and frayed the edges. Maybe I cut them a bit too short. The cheeks of my buttocks curved out below the edges, but I liked the shape. I thought they could look better with dark tights.
The tights somehow got a little torn as I put them on. But even like that, I thought they looked pretty fine. I tried a band in my hair to hold it up. Maybe it would work with some mascara, darker than I normally used, and deep red lipstick.
Looking in my long mirror at the whole look, with the little leather jacket, really excited me. I looked like a different girl. A woman. I turned to look at the curve of my ass, the swell of my breasts, pointing out at the edges of the jacket. And my eyes. I loved the smoky look of my eyes with the mascara.
I wanted so much to try out the look in the biker bar. The marking wasn’t going anywhere. Just one drink. It couldn’t do any harm. Homelee High got enough of my energy and dedication for the pittance they paid me. I deserved an hour to myself. Just one drink.
The clubhouse seemed to be farther out of town
than I remembered it and, as I parked up, it looked bigger. Seeing the line of bikes gave me a strange stirring sensation, deep and low.
I felt the cool air through the rips in my tights, inside the sides of the cut-off denim and inside the open leather jacket. My breasts scraped irritably against the sheer bra in the loose, lacy top.
As I pulled the door to the bar open, the rising roar music and biker growls was like a familiar greeting. As I made my way to the bar, I didn’t feel at home exactly, but I didn’t have all of the sensations of being out of place that I’d had the night before.
One very large, bearded, barrel-chested biker made a show of not letting me by, and I wasn’t completely sure whether he was being playful or threatening. I guess that in here that line probably blurs some.
The attention that I got from the other bikers that I passed was more like recognition than surprise. If the girls there noticed me, it was no more than noticing. The suspicion and hostility that I’d felt before weren’t there now.
The barman was friendly. I don’t know how many big bikers were waiting to get served, but he came straight to me and, I think, they all approved. I asked him for bourbon.
I rolled the smoky, copper liquid around the thick, heavy tumbler. I liked the way that the light danced in the thick bottom of the glass and savored the deep, spicy aroma. The first hit lit up my throat and I felt its charge all the way down.
Feeling good, I went out back to check out the barn. The big barn was silent and the door was tight shut. I took another nip of my whiskey and turned back, a little deflated.
“Looking for a fight?” A big voice rasped behind me. As I turned, I was faced with the huge barrel chest and wiry beard of the biker who’d obstructed me inside the bar.
“No, I was just… looking,” I said.
“So you’re in search of some entertainment. I know a game we can play.”
“No. Thanks. I just came for one quick drink, and now I have to be…”
He stepped in closer. Involuntarily I stepped back. I stumbled. He caught my arm. My eyes were just about level with the bottom of his chest. He pulled me up, higher. I said, “Look, I have to go now, okay?”
He said, “Aw, but we haven’t got to know each other yet. And I haven’t showed you my game.” He pulled me up even higher. My shoulder was starting to hurt. “And you haven’t had a fight yet.”
A quiet but strong voice, liquid like syrup and low like a bassline, came from behind the big biker. “Vigger, I know you’re respectful to ladies at your clubhouse, and you know that we are here, too. You won’t forget that you’re a guest, will you.”
The big guy turned as he let me down. Behind him, I knew--I don’t know how, but I knew, and I was right. I felt such a charge to see his watery gray eyes that my thighs trembled and my knees felt as if they had turned to water.
Vigger said, “Lady was looking for a fight, Ax.” The two men faced each other. Vigger was taller, thicker and much heavier. I started to speak, but I saw Ax’s hand move and I kept quiet. Vigger said, “We could give her what she wants, Ax. Couldn’t we?”
This was escalating out of control. I drew a breath to say that I had to leave, but while his eyes remained locked with Vigger’s, Ax’s hand told me to stay quiet and still.
Ax spoke evenly to Vigger and I felt his voice like it was pouring through. “That’s what you want, is it, Vigger?”
Vigger said, “I feel like you insulted me in front of company here.”
Ax chewed the inside of his lip as Vigger went on. “Anyway, it would liven up the evening, wouldn’t it? I always thought there should more than one fight night a week here.”
I could see that Ax would either have to accept and fight bareknuckle with the much bigger man, or he’d have to back down. I didn’t know much about biker culture, close to nothing in fact, but I thought I knew which way his decision would go.
One drink. I was supposed to be out for one drink. Now, gray-eyed Ax was going to go bareknuckle against massive Vigger, and I was thinking that I should get back to my marking. Well, you boys have fun! I have to go read two dozen essays about pilgrims. Play nice now. Yeah, right.
The bar practically emptied into the barn, and there was an a different, stronger electricity that the night before. The tall biker with the bandana came loping over to me. “Lu not with you tonight?” I don’t think he’d forgiven me for taking her away. Neither had she, in all probability.
He said, “You putting a bet on for Ax?” I felt so out of my depth here, but he was effectively fighting as my champion. The thought stirred me deep down as I thought about it. The biker said, “Two gets you five on him to win.” I fished up a twenty and he wrote me a slip.
What was I doing here?
The two men stripped to the waist and in the ring. Their bulging muscles were covered in evil ink. They had taped their hands up and faced each other from opposite sides of the raised platform.
An older man in a sweatshirt stepped up and looked like he was going to act as a referee. He shouted, “Brothers. Vigger represents the Dirt Riders MC, and our own vice president, Ax, represents Axes MC. We’ll have a clean fight, unless they opt for a dirty one.”
Ax and Vigger approached the center of the ring, bouncing on their toes. The referee held up his arm and the room became still. After a few seconds, he moved back and swung his arm down.
That instant, Vigger swung a big, wide slam to Ax’s temple. Ax’s head swung sickeningly. He raised his arms back up as he reeled, but Vigger slung blows at him from left and right, exploiting Ax’s confusion.
Ax kept his left arm bent out in front of him, and his right closer in front of his face. He blocked Vigger’s fists, but the effort seemed to be wearing him down already. The two men bobbed and circled, but Ax was looking heavier on his feet.
They continued to circle, but Vigger was clearly setting the pace. He didn’t get a solid blow past Ax’s arms and fists, but he was in control of the fight. Ax hardly attempted a blow past Vigger’s defense, only connecting with the bigger man’s arms and wrists.
Then Vigger ducked low to swing a punch at Ax’s stomach. Ax got his hand to Vigger’s arm and deflected it, but Vigger had a jab waiting. Ax saw the punch coming and pulled his head back to avoid it. Vigger stepped forward and hooked his ankle behind Ax’s.
Ax hit the canvas on his back. Vigger stepped in again, but the referee was there. He called the end of the round. I was shaking. The biker with the bandana was standing next to me. He said, “Your twenty isn’t looking too safe, is it?”
“Aren’t you both in the same club?” I asked him, “Are you betting against your fellow member?”
The biker smiled, “Nope. I laid your bet off with one of my own. You lose, I lose.”
“You laid it off?”
“Yup.” He grinned and looked over at a clutch of bikers with the Dirt Rider patch on their backs. He raised a bottle of Jack Daniels to them. He smiled back to me and said, “The fat guy gave me four to one.”
The referee was moving back to the middle of the ring. Two bikers stood around Ax. They patted him on the back and handed him a gum shield. He hunched and bounced his way back to the center.
From the other corner, Vigger came out swinging his arms and waving to his friends around the barn and a cheer went up. The referee signaled the start of the round.
The two big men hunched and danced around each other. Vigger still seemed to be driving the fight. As they bounced around the ring, Vigger leaned farther forwards and Ax didn’t bounce as high. Ax was mostly able to fend him off, but he only got a few blows against Vigger.
Ax made jabs at Vigger’s body, his face, and his head, and he kept Vigger working hard to keep him out, but the blows didn’t connect. The crowd grew impatient and shouted at the fighters as the bobbed and circled around the ring.
Three Hitmen: A Triple Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 2) Page 52