HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  “Yeah. Weird, huh?”

  “Would you recognize their voices?”

  I shook my head. “I doubt it.”

  “Let me ask you this. When you left. When you were led away to the motorcycles. Was there anyone else in the house other than the bikers that hauled you out?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I was blindfolded.”

  “Right. The blindfolds. Did you by chance keep the blindfold?”

  “No,” I said. “I threw it away. Have you talked to any of the other girls?”

  He put the notepad in his pocket. “I’m not at liberty to say. It’s an ongoing investigation.”

  I could tell by the look on his face that he had, and that he was frustrated with all of us. The story was simple, and we’d rehearsed it several times. I suspected the other girls said the exact same thing.

  We didn’t hear anything. We didn’t see anything. It was that simple.

  “When you were at the 7-Eleven getting gas, you weren’t blindfolded, were you?”

  I laughed. “No.”

  “So, from the time they grabbed you until the time they blindfolded you, you were able to see them, were you not?”

  “I was.”

  “Can you give a description?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Everything happened so fast.”

  “Bald, blonde, shaggy hair, crewcut, short, tall, tattoos, Hispanic, African American, White--”

  “It was a big blur.” I shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

  “Appreciate your time, Alexandra.” He nodded and then looked at my mother. “I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.”

  She followed him to the door and shut it behind him after he left. As she turned the lock, I slumped into the couch cushion.

  “Jesus. That was nerve-racking.”

  “Do you think he believed you?”

  “No. I’m sure he didn’t. But there’s us, the girls who were there, and them, the guys who saved us. We’ve all got the same story. The rest of the people involved are dead. He can wonder all he wants, but he’s never going to find out the truth.”

  If he did, we were all screwed.

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Cholo

  I felt like I was walking into an ambush. I came over the hill and glanced toward the house. As always, Alexandra was standing on the porch with her hands in her pockets, facing in my direction. I twisted the throttle back and sped toward the driveway fighting not to show up wearing an ear-to-ear grin.

  I hung my helmet on the handlebars and pulled my cap from between my legs. After tugging it down on my head, I stepped off the bike and brushed the wrinkles from my jeans.

  Halfway to the porch she met me with a kiss.

  I’d never enjoyed kissing women. Although I had, it was primarily something I either did while drunk, or immediately prior to their departure after a weekend fling. There had never been any meaning behind the kisses, and certainly no feelings attached with them.

  Kissing Alexandra was different. I fully understood, even after the first kiss, how powerful a kiss could be. The emotion that rushed through me when we kissed was reason enough to do it again, and again.

  As our lips parted, I wondered if she felt the same emotion.

  I glanced toward the front door and noticed it was pulled closed. I looked at her. “Is she here?”

  She nodded. “She’s inside.”

  “Do uhhm. When we…when we kiss,” I stammered. “Does it make you feel rubber-legged?”

  She dragged her fingers through her hair, pinning it behind her ears. Her head tilted to the side. “Rubber-legged?”

  Her hair looked good behind her ears, but I tried not to stare. I looked down at the tips of my shoes. “Yeah.”

  “You’re cute.”

  I looked up. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  She shoved her hands back into the pockets of her shorts and twisted her hips back and forth. I grinned at her nervous behavior as I continued to watch her with eager eyes.

  “It makes me feel wonderful,” she said. “My knees quiver and goosebumps come up on my arms.”

  “Good. I was hoping I wasn’t alone.”

  “You’ve never felt…are you not a big kisser?” she asked.

  “Never have been, no. I like it, though. I mean, with you. It’s pretty cool.”

  “Pretty cool? Yeah.” She chuckled. “You’re cute.”

  I shrugged.

  She held out her hand. “C’mon. Let’s go get this over with.”

  I followed her into the living room and sat down on the couch beside her. Since we had dinner together, it seemed that she was much more comfortable being in my presence. Seeing her comfort allowed me to relax a little, but everything was still new to me, leaving me feeling inexperienced and awkward.

  With her, every day was like the day that preceded a big fight, the day before Christmas, or the day before a big family gathering.

  I was apprehensive and excited at the same time.

  I liked it.

  “Nobody laugh,” her mother said as she walked into the room. Still angry about her visit to the clubhouse, I looked in her direction with a tight jaw and my fists clenched.

  Carrying a platter of cookies, she stepped in front of us. “Fresh baked. Have a few.”

  “Is that what you’ve been doing?” Alexandra asked. “Cookies? Really? Are we twelve?”

  “You like my cookies,” Lucy said.

  Alexandra rolled her eyes and reached for the platter. Upon seeing the cookies, her eyes widened. “Ooh. Macadamia nut and white chocolate. Okay. I’m twelve again.”

  She grabbed three cookies and placed two of them on her bare leg. While nibbling the one she held, she motioned toward the platter.

  “Seriously. They’re awesome.”

  My mother made cookies infrequently when we were kids. When she did, my sister and I would devour them in no time.

  I followed Alexandra’s lead and grabbed three cookies. “Thank you.”

  She set the platter on the coffee table, grabbed a cookie, and sat down in the chair across from us.

  I bit into one of the cookies.

  Holy shit.

  I had to commend her on her decision to bake cookies and propose them for a peace offering. They were that good.

  Alexandra looked at me. “Good, huh?”

  Almost done with the second cookie, I nodded. “Uh huh.”

  “There’s no sense in rehashing what I said this morning,” her mother said. “But there are some things I want to say.”

  I poked the rest of the cookie into my mouth, looked at her, and nodded. “Okay,” I said over a mouthful of cookie.

  “I reacted like any mother would react. I was protecting my daughter, or so I thought. I realize now that there’s nothing I need to protect her from.” She looked at me. “Is there?”

  “Mother!” Alexandra hissed.

  I wiped my hands on the thighs of my jeans, and then set the last cookie down on Alexandra’s leg beside the other.

  “I’m not going to hurt your daughter,” I said.

  Her eyebrows raised. “That’s reassuring,” she said in a sarcastic tone. “What else would you say?”

  “Mother,” Alexandra snapped. “You said you were going to apologize.”

  She shrugged. “I did.”

  Alexandra glared. “You haven’t.”

  I reached for my cookie, took a bite, and began my half-assed explanation of how I felt.

  “Listen. I can see your reluctance to accept a 31-year-old biker as a good match for your 21-year-old daughter. I’ve never been in a relationship, because I’ve never wanted to be in a relationship, so I can’t give you any kind of statistics on how well I’ve done in the past, or how good I am at doing this.”

  I took another bite of the cookie. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know this: I took the time to consider how I felt about her, and whether it was based on anything but pure intentions or not. After a lot of thinking, a lot of being hon
est with myself, and some talking with the other fellas who are in relationships, I decided to tell Alexandra how I feel.”

  I poked the last bite of cookie into my mouth.

  Lucy leaned forward. “Have you ever hurt a woman?”

  She wasn’t going to like my answer, I was sure of it.

  “I’m sure I’ve hurt a lot of them, yeah. Like I said, I’ve never been in a relationship. That doesn’t mean I’ve never had sex. So, for me to sit here and tell you that I had sex with some chick, and then told her I never wanted to see her again – and that she went home happy – would be some pretty wishful thinking on my part.”

  “You’re a player,” she said.

  “A what?”

  “Player.” She folded her hands together and leaned forward. “Someone who plays games with girl’s heads to get them to have sex with them.”

  “Listen. I’m not perfect. Hell, we’ve all made mistakes, you included,” I said. “But what I’ve done in the past doesn’t define me as a person.”

  “It sure does,” she said.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  Both eyebrows went up. “What does?”

  I clenched my fist and pressed it to my chest. “What I feel right here.”

  “Good answer,” Alexandra whispered.

  “And this is a new feeling?” Lucy asked. “Something you’ve never experienced?”

  “It’s new, yeah. And don’t even ask me to explain it.”

  She stood, walked to the coffee table, and picked up two cookies. After she sat down, she took a bite, and then studied me as she chewed.

  She finished the first cookie without speaking, and then started on the second. I felt like I was on trial, waiting on the jury to decide what the verdict was. After exchanging a few looks with Alexandra, I reached for the coffee table and grabbed two cookies.

  I handed Alexandra one.

  Lucy let out a sigh, alternated glances between Alexandra and me, and fixed her eyes on mine. “Don’t you dare hurt her.”

  “I won’t.”

  She stood up and crossed her arms. “I’m sorry for how I acted this morning. I’m anxious to see where this ends up.”

  “That makes two of us,” I said.

  “No,” Alexandra said. “Three.”

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  Lex

  Adam’s attire was the same every day. He wore his jeans, black and white Van’s sneakers, a stark white tee shirt, and his black hat. Day in, day out, it was the exact same thing, every day. After a little begging on my part, he’d agreed to add some clothes to his wardrobe.

  Standing in the middle of the living room, he turned slowly so I could inspect him for change.

  Other than his face being cleanly shaven, I came up with nothing.

  “I’m not seeing it,” I said. “Even your watch is the same.”

  “My arms are bare.” He turned to the side and raised his eyebrows.

  I don’t know what I expected, but the subtle change he’d made had gone unnoticed until he mentioned it.

  “Your arms are always bare.”

  “Normally, I wear a tee shirt with sleeves,” he said. “Today, I’m wearing a black wife beater.”

  “Ooh. Classy,” I said with a laugh.

  After he’d mentioned it, I couldn’t help but notice that his arms were bare, and it looked like he was wearing nothing more than his leather vest.

  It dawned on me that except for the night we met, I’d never seen him without his vest on. My recollection of that night was spotty at best, so in all reality, I’d never seen him without it.

  I wagged my finger toward him. “Can you take off the vest?”

  He sighed, removed the vest, and draped it over the back of the chair.

  Dear God.

  After he’d removed the vest, I realized just how much the sleeveless piece of leather concealed. The black ribbed tank clung to his skin like a coat of paint.

  His stomach was flatter than flat. His chest was massive and wide. His arms, which I’d seen every day for the last month, seemed much more muscular. In short, I liked his vest right where it was.

  After a few seconds of drooling, my eyes locked on his torso. The black cotton did little to conceal his washboard abs, but it camouflaged them enough to frustrate me.

  “Can you. Uhhm. Lift up...” I pointed toward the hem of his shirt. “I want to see your…”

  With the bill of his hat pinched between his thumb and forefinger, and his eyes fixed on the floor at his feet, he seemed embarrassed.

  I was at a point that I didn’t care.

  “Lift up your shirt,” I said, almost demanding it.

  He reached for the front of the shirt, pulled it over his head, and draped it over the back of his neck, revealing his entire upper body for my inspection.

  The evening sun cast shadows over his rippling abs, and his tanned chest flowed into his shoulders, arms, and torso like nothing I’d ever seen.

  My heart went batty, beating like I was running a race.

  Then, my face went flush.

  “I’m sorry,” I said apologetically, fanning my face as I spoke. “Can you turn just a little to your left?”

  He sighed, tugged against the bill of his hat, and twisted at the waist. His jeans fell a little lower on his hip. With the bill of his hat still pinched between his thumb and forefinger, he glanced down, noticed more of him was revealed than he was comfortable with, and he quickly released his hat and reached for his jeans.

  “Don’t,” I begged. “Leave them. Please.”

  He looked up. I pried my eyes away from his well-defined torso and met his gaze. “New rule,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  I wasn’t about to tell him he had to live life shirtless, although it would have been fine with me. I didn’t have a problem, however, asking him for something a little less embarrassing.

  “You’ve got to take off the vest from time-to-time,” I said.

  “Okay.” He shrugged. “Can I get dressed now?”

  I liked it that he was modest. “Yes,” I said. “You can.”

  He pulled down his shirt, adjusted his hat, and then stepped to my side. “New rule for you, too.”

  I envisioned showing him my tits, or some goofy rule about blowjobs as soon as he crossed the threshold of the door.

  I leaned close enough to him to kiss him, and then paused. “What?”

  He raised his finger toward my face, and I although I didn’t flinch, I held my breath and waited anxiously for him to touch me.

  He brushed my hair away from my face, tucking it behind my right ear, and then reached toward the other side of my face. After carefully positioning the left side in the same fashion, he leaned back and studied me.

  A smile of satisfaction quickly washed over him.

  “There.” His eyes moved from one side of my face to the other, and then back. “Perfect.”

  I exhaled, and then met his gaze. His blue eyes glistened. “I like you.”

  His gaze fell to his feet. “I like you, too.”

  “Do I still make you nervous?” I asked.

  He looked up. “Yeah. A little. It’s not bad, though. Not as bad as it used to be.”

  “I like that, too,” I said.

  I inhaled a breath of courage, reached for the hem of my tee shirt, and pulled it over my head, no differently than he had done with his. After unbuckling my bra and dropping it at my feet, I stood mere feet from him, naked from the waist up.

  I felt vulnerable and a little embarrassed, but I stood there nonetheless.

  I wasn’t a prude, and in fact, was far from it. In the past, being naked in public wouldn’t have been beyond the realm of possibilities, but things had changed.

  I had changed.

  I wanted him to feel comfortable in my presence, and I needed to feel comfortable in his, too. I watched him as he slowly took me into his view, inch by inch.

  He took a step back and studied me. He crossed his arms over his chest
and inhaled a deep breath. His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Can you turn to the left a little?”

  I did as he asked.

  His eyes searched me from head to toe, and then focused on my naked torso. He pushed his hands into his pockets. A few seconds later, he exhaled.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  I reached for my bra. “For what?”

  As I stood, he leaned toward me and kissed me lightly on the lips.

  “Trusting me,” he said.

  I put on my bra, and then pulled my shirt on. “Thank you.”

  He grinned. “For what?”

  “Making me feel like I could.”

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  Cholo

  Each time Alexandra and I were together, it seemed we reached a milestone or learned something about new each other. Being apart caused me to yearn to be together for no other reason than to experience something new with her.

  Although I didn’t want to accelerate the process, and enjoyed every minute of not knowing what was next, I found myself wanting to spend more time with her after each day had passed.

  Each time we met, I saw subtle changes in her ability to open up to me. I noticed progress in me, too. The sexual desires of my past had vanished, and although I wanted to one day have sex with Alexandra, it wasn’t my focus at all.

  In fact, my focus was the journey itself. The steps I needed to take to earn her trust were steps I needed, and wanted, to take. In the process, I was sure that I would become more confident in myself and my ability to be exactly what Alexandra needed.

  It was rare for a man to get an opportunity to turn back the clock and start his life over, but I believed I was given just that chance with Alexandra. I felt like it was my first sexual experience. As far as my heart was concerned, it was.

  And, this time, I was going to do things right.

  I pulled my hat on, slipped my kutte over my shoulders, and reached for the door. The sheetrock crew was scheduled to meet me at the La Jolla home, and I didn’t want to be late.

  I opened the door, looked up, and froze. Standing at the edge of my porch stood an unpleasant surprise.

  “Good morning. It’s Downey, right? Adam Downey?”