by Bella Knight
He came, gasping, as she mounted him, after only a few strokes. She took off the condom and took him back to the shower to wash him again.
Eventually, they all ended up in the tub, drinking beer or, in Ivy’s case, Dion’s amazing strawberry drink. The men chatted about rides, with Ivy asking about their favorite places.
“The Mississippi,” said one guy named Razor. He was as thin as the blade he was named for, with a reedy voice, “They let us take our bikes on this barge thing, and took us downriver to New Orleans. Then, we took a ride over to Biloxi; prettiest city you ever did see. Thinking of riding back there again.”
Hellcat nodded, “You know, that’s what we’ll do. The desert is… well, it’s…”
“Gorgeous!” said Ivy, “all red and purple… and black and tan. The nothing isn't anything, you know? Rocks and Joshua trees and little chipmunks and skinks.”
“Yeah,” said Hellcat, “but, the river is so wide. And the people there, they don’t look at you like you are crazy being on a bike. They just ask you, ‘what do you want to eat?’ If you ask directions there, they get you there. You may end up going the long way,” he said, in a laugh, “but you’ll get there.”
Thanda broke into Proud Mary, with her absolutely, perfect voice. Razor’s voice was clear and firm when he sang too, and they accompanied each other in a slow version of the song. Everyone clapped when they were finished.
After that, Ivy got out towels for everyone and gave them all a Coke and a kiss for the road. They dressed and went out into the night.
“Damn, girl!” said DVI.
when the ladies were dressed and in the kitchen, and with Ky fixing them omelets, “A thousand dollars in two hours. I’m going to have to call this the ‘Clean Sex Special!’”
“You do that,” said Ivy, “wake up the others. I’m going to bed.”
“I heard that!” said Thanda, “I need sleep too you know!”
“Yes, life’s one big road trip.”
2
Arsenal and Blacksnakes
Arsenal’s Return
“Better the devil you know!”
arsenal came back on Thursday night. Ivy went out to meet him and smiled up at him as he put away his helmet.
“Here to watch another movie?”
He looked down into her eyes, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, “you work here,” he said, gesturing towards the front door, obviously upset.
“Yes, I do,” said Ivy.
“I told myself that it would be stupid to date a woman that works here. But, then I thought, who wants to date a guy with PTSD?”
“You wanna date, like as in not here? Or can we stay here and you fork over some money?”
Arsenal smiled down at her, “Let’s do half and half.”
“I’m expensive,” said Ivy, “but I think I can get you a good rate.” He laughed, the sound bursting out of him, “I’m on the clock now, buddy boy. What say you leave the knives and gun locked in your helmet?”
“I gotta have one knife,” said Arsenal, “and the gun stays with me. Can’t have it fall into the wrong hands.”
Ivy sighed, “Okay. Follow me. Hungry? Want some cheese sticks or something?”
“Cheese sticks?” said Arsenal, opening the door for her, “I want a dead cow.”
“We got sliders and fries,” she said. She took him to the bar and had Dion make her the strawberry mash.
“A Dr. Pepper for my friend here,” said Ivy.
“He isn’t mine,” said Dion.
Ivan came up behind Dion and handed over the can, “You want a glass with that?”
“Nope, give it to me straight,” he looked at Ivan’s smiling face, “why are you nice to me?”
Ivan looked at him while he polished a glass, “Very simple. You are a bad man, but Ivy says you are better now. And, Ivy kills you if you hurt someone. So, no problem.” He put the glass away and shrugged.
“Ivy kill someone? Are you a ninja, Ivy?” he asked.
She hung up the phone from ordering the sliders and fries for him and some fruit for her, from Ky.
He became absolutely still as Ivy dangled a knife in front of his face, “It’s yours. I swiped it.” He took it and bent down to put it back in his boot.
Ky went on, “Is as I say, okay? Ivy kills you if you do something bad. So, no problem.”
“Want me to swipe your gun?” asked Ivy, as Dion put her drink in front of her.
“Damn, woman!” said Arsenal, “anyone ever tell you not to draw on a veteran?”
“I wasn’t threatening you with it, and you knew that. Besides, I had a hand on your gun.”
“Shit,” said Arsenal. He took a deep breath, “Okay, so no doing anything bad. I can handle that.”
“Can you?” asked Ivy, her blue eyes shining up at him.
“Depends on the bad,” said Arsenal.
She smiled and gestured for him to follow her. She put on Terminator after getting him to give her sixty dollars and, after making him pay for the drinks and food —his, not hers, they replicated the motel scene while it was onscreen. Except they did it without any angst over being chased by an android.
She slowly stroked his back, tracing his tattoos.
“Mom…” he said, as she stroked the portrait on his right bicep, “died a week before my sixteenth birthday. A drunk driver crossed the center line. My dad let me take summer school, to get out of high school early, and join the marines at seventeen. The best thing that ever happened to me. He shot himself about ten days after I enlisted. Said in a note he couldn’t live without her, and that she raised me good, to make her proud.”
Ivy listened to every word he said. Her eyes never lost their focus on him.
He pointed to the number etched on his left arm, “My dad’s draft number. He was in Vietnam. Didn’t get why I signed up, but he went along with it.”
She turned to him, stroked his face, “My mom broke sometime, never entirely sure why. She just went away in her head one day and never came back. I was in the sixth grade. They put me in foster homes, kept moving me around like a chess piece. She died in the hospital. I got pregnant my last year of high school. My boyfriend split. My little girl seemed normal, but she didn’t like noises. She cried and spit up a lot. She didn’t want to play peek-a-boo or even let me blow on her tummy. She didn’t want to look at me or make baby talk. I kept telling my foster mother and the doctors at the clinic that something was wrong, but no one would listen to me. They kept saying, ‘Wait and see’ and ‘She’ll grow out of it.’ Idiots. Bastards.” She wiped away a tear.
He watched her lips as she spoke to him in honesty.
“We got out of the system, and I got a job as a checkout girl. My friend Joan and I split the rent on a tiny place, as big as this room, and worked opposite shifts to watch after Damia. There wasn’t money for doctors. Then, once I left her with Joan, and when I got back, Joan was gone. She took all her stuff, and left Damia in her crib all night. Damia survived, but I was alone and couldn’t pay for a babysitter. I lost my job. I set out to find me a doctor, date one or marry one. I met this pediatrician named Josh. We got married, and we moved into a nice house. Josh said she was autistic, and that she might never speak.”
The two kissed and stroked each other. He stripped off his clothes, and so did she.
He kissed her hair, “spun gold,” he said.
He ran his hands down her shoulders, cupping her breasts in his hands. They kissed until he grew rock-hard against her.
She took a condom out of the box by the bed and rolled it on him. They came together, with him on top, clasping her hands. His skin was hot, sliding in and out of the sheets. She ran her fingers down his spine, making him gasp and moan.
Afterward, they laid together gasping in bed. “So, what happened to Josh?”
“Found him in bed with not one, but two, other women. He felt so guilty and was so scared that I would ruin his practice that he paid to send Damia to a special school. I tried l
iving with her there, but it went really wrong. She doesn’t like to be touched, or to make noises, or to hear noises. She likes it so quiet. And, I love rock music and dancing and making my daughter smile. But she wouldn’t smile. So, I had to leave her, and I came here. I’m able to pay for everything myself, now.”
“You like to do things yourself?” he said.
“Everything,” she said, “this room we’re in is a trailer. I bought it. Well, Di fronted the money. I stripped it. I decorated it. DVI wants to buy any furniture or decorations for the Palomino. And she comes to me first, ‘cos I’m that good. I work hard and get every fucking thing my daughter needs.”
“What about for you?” asked Arsenal, stroking her arm.
“I’ve been looking at brothels, like this one. There are some old abandoned ones. I could make them over.”
“That must be really expensive to set up, and to run,” he said, flopping over onto his back.
“Hmm, not really.”
Ivy put her head on his shoulder and he said, “You’ve got food, liquor, and all the people to make it run, —bartenders, cooks, cleaners, and the girls.”
“And boys!” said Ivy, “we’re a full-service ranch.”
“Really?” asked Arsenal, “Dion? And Ivan?”
“Not Ivan,” said Ivy, “you haven’t met Barry… and Katya tends bar too.”
“So, four bartenders. Lots of girls, and boys. Food, liquor, drinks. Then power, water.”
“And Di. They used to call her a madam. Now she’s called a businesswoman,” she thought a moment, “don’t forget Ky, he cooks, and then at least one bouncer.”
He seemed impressed as she ran it all out loud.
Ivy stared at the wall, “You’re right. Wrong idea!” she said, “too damn expensive.”
“Yes,” said Arsenal, “have you ever considered a bar? Drinks, a dancing girl or two. Bar food. Rock music. Bikers would love it. Maybe tourists.”
“A rock bar’s been done before,” said Ivy, “or haven’t you seen the giant guitar on Harmon in Vegas?”
Arsenal laughed, “Yes, but they’re clean. You can make yours a little… dirty.”
Ivy sat up in bed, “Dirty Rock! I love it! No more of this red velvet shit. It will be cool, in neon blues and black and chrome,” she flipped over on top of him, “thanks. I needed that!”
“What?” asked Arsenal, kissing her neck.
“For giving me ‘the thing.’ The thing for just me!”
Claw and the Blacksnakes
The riders blew in at about four in the afternoon. Ivy saw the flash and came out.
Her cell rang, “Ivy, it’s James. Di told me to let them through, but these look nasty. The real deal, you know?”
“Shit,” said Ivy.
She hadn’t seen Arsenal in days, so no help there, “Okay, be out soon.”
She dressed in a leather outfit, a bustier in blue and gold, a black leather skirt with blue on the bottom, and some black leather boots with stiletto heels. She put throwing knives in her boots, and a tiny gun in an ankle holster. The ‘clean sex’ gambit wouldn’t work on these guys. Parting them from their dangerous toys wouldn’t work.
She strode out like she owned the place. They were rowdy, crude, and there were ten of them.
“Shit,” said Ivy, under her breath. They had a logo of a black snake hissing with the legendary quote, “Blacksnakes: Respect Few, Fear None,” in copper and black on their backs and tattooed on their arms. James stood in a corner, glaring, as they sat down next to Marybelle and Thanda, openly grabbing their tits. Ivy strode in and, using a bullhorn voice, said, “No touching the ladies without the green. A bruise, even a small one, a hundred bucks each. Let me see your wallets. Now!”
“Hey, little lady,” said a huge man.
His head was shaved except for a low mohawk. He had tattoos of writhing snakes, leering skulls, and naked women up both arms and right up filtering onto his neck.
“‘Little lady’ me again and I’ll cut your dick off,” said Ivy, “are you deaf? Money! First!”
The men ignored her. Ivy moved like water, past the huge man, and grabbed the man with a hand on Marybelle’s right breast.
She put one of her knives against his throat, “No. Touch. Before. Money.”
She hissed in his ear. He took his hand off her breast and took out two C-notes. She took them and inserted them into her bustier.
“One more C-note each, you can have all the booze and food you want for two hours. That’s three hundred per guy,” she stepped back from the man, keeping the knife in one hand, “three hundred. Each. Now!”
One man with a skull tattooed on his face reached into his pocket and pulled out a huge wad of bills. He counted out one thousand, “I figure you’re double,” he said.
“I am,” she said, “Dion, get Ivan to help you and get beers for all these people, and a whiskey chaser.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Dion, “On it.”
“And sliders and fries and poppers and cheese sticks,” she said as Dion nodded.
“I’ll call for more girls, wouldn’t want to keep you gentlemen waiting. We’ve got a pool table and a poker table through that door,” she said, pointing to the game room. “We’ll bring food and drinks in there for you. Then, we’ll have some fun.”
She whipped out her phone and Di answered, “Waking up the other six,” she said.
“Good,” said Ivy, and hung up.
The bikers were striding towards the pool table. One of them chose Thanda, one Marybelle, and one Jazz. All three girls laughed, taking beer and whiskey from the bar for themselves and their ‘rides.’
Ivy fussed with the sound system, tuning it to her own hard-rock CD she had put together. Aerosmith’s Rag Doll came out over the speakers. The men whooped. Ivy danced, rocking out, her twisted hair flying. The guy with the full-face skull tattooed onto his face danced with her, taking sips from time to time with his beer bottle. They moved and shook as Ivan came around with more beers. George Thorogood’s, One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer came on. Ky came in with the food, James right behind him carrying more. There was dancing and a wicked pool game for piles of cash and a poker game with chips that were stored in a cubby under the table.
Girls would come in, —Gina, Lissa, Margaret, Bobbi, Chase, and Winnie, and a man would go out. Then another would come back, someone replacing each man at the pool or poker table. The skull man took out a few more hundred.
“Keep it coming, darling,” he said, pushing the money into her bra.
Ky came out with pizza bites, and fried chicken, and amazing biscuits, and napkins and wet towels to clean themselves up. Ivy and the skeleton man ate together. She sipped from a beer bottle with a red label; not one they stocked. Dion had filled it with ginger ale and a touch of maple syrup. They cleaned up after the meal, and she and the skeleton man, all wiry energy, danced their way into the hallway between the game rooms and the kitchen.
The man boomed in her ear, “What’s your name?”
“Velvet Ivy,” she said.
“I’m Skeleton,” he said, “want to dance death?”
“Why not?” she said.
They took out knives and began circling one another. She had a cut on her arm, and he a cut on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger when he suddenly sheathed his knife. She sheathed hers, too.
“Want to see my other knife?” he said.
“Why not?” she said.
He took a silver condom wrapper out of his jeans and took out the silver condom inside. He dropped his jeans and rolled on the condom. His dick was large and slightly curved.
“Scimitar,” she said.
He picked her up and put her against the wall. She snapped her thong off. She slid down onto him. He pushed into her, and she took him. There was no kissing, no talk, just Bon Jovi’s, Wanted: Dead or Alive on the CD and grunts swallowed as he thrust into her again and again.
He came with gusto, and she pushed down on his shoulders, taking herself
off of him. He smiled, took off the condom, found the trash can in the corner, and dropped it and the packet in. He pulled up his pants and smiled.
“You’re a good lay,” he said.
“Always!” she said.
The party was in full swing, with ladies coming back with guys and more going out. Ivy kept dancing, —Thorogood’s Move It on Over, and Steppenwolf’s Born to be Wild, and The Guess Who’s American Woman, and, of course, Guns N’ Roses’ Sweet Child O’ Mine. Skeleton danced with her. Thanda came over and kissed her, and they made out to The Who’s Baba O’Riley. The men whooped and hollered.
They survived the two hours, involving Ivy going to the room and coming out with CDs from Guns N’ Roses, Bon Jovi, Poison, and Aerosmith, which turned into three hours when Skeleton pulled out more money. The huge mohawk guy joined in, and Thanda dragged him into the hallway after Ivy pressed a condom in her hand. Then, he came back, and she didn’t. Ivy went to check on her, and found her in the kitchen, Ky creating ice packs to put on her bruises and her split lip.
Ivy went back to Skeleton, “Your fucking mohawk guy put bruises on my woman.”
“The black one?” said Skeleton, “she shouldn’t have gone with Claw. He doesn’t like blacks.”
“Fuck, really?” Ivy stated.
He sighed and peeled off three bills, “Here’s three. And, we’re going soon. Poker game’s almost done.”
Ivy pressed, “Two songs. Everyone finishes their drinks and we’re done.”
“Three songs. Absolutely.” Ivy nodded to agree with him.
She started taking away empties, including her own. She gave the bottles to Ivan. She told him not to serve anyone else. She turned down the music, then turned it off after three songs.
