by Lane Hart
The door barely closes behind me before Lori swoops down on me again, wrapping me in a hug that somehow manages to rub every part of her body on me at once. “Chase, I’ve been waiting all afternoon to see how things went for you! Oh my god, what happened to your eye, are you okay?”
Great, I was hoping to slink off to the kitchen without anyone making a big deal of it, but Lori had to be a ditz and announce it to the entire room. “Ah, it’s nothing,” I hedge, trying to peel her off of me. “Just getting the hang of everything today, you know?”
“Lori!” Deacon calls from where he’s sitting at the bar. “Get your tits off my prospect. Prospect, get in the kitchen and get some food!”
Lori jumps back from me as if I’ve caught fire, but still flashes me a flirtatious grin before skipping away. She stops at one of the pool tables and makes a show of bending over to study the game, so that her skirt climbs dangerously high up her thighs. I quickly avert my gaze, but not before I see that she isn’t wearing any panties. I march stiffly to the kitchen, thankful that there are no further ambushes along the way.
Reese is already in there making a sandwich. He doesn’t acknowledge me as I open the refrigerator and start digging around to see what I can find. When I emerge a moment later with a couple packages of cold cuts, Deacon is standing just behind me.
“So, how did things go out there today? Reese, did our prospect do all right?” Deacon asks him.
Reese gives a single nod, then picks up his plate and two bottles of beer. Without saying anything else, he leaves us alone in the kitchen.
“Good,” Deacon says, drawing closer to take a look at my eye. “Did Reese do this to you?”
“No, this wasn’t him,” I tell Deacon as I begin making my sandwich. “I got this while we were doing that repossession today. Guy wasn’t really happy we were there for his truck and caught me off guard.”
“Well, Reese will help you with that.” Deacon smiles. “He treat you all right?”
“He worked the hell out of me,” I grunt. “Dude is strange, man. He’s tough, though, I’ll give him that. Weirdest part of the whole day was when he tried to tell me a joke.”
“He told you a joke?” Deacon asks, his voice incredulous. “You must have made a good impression on him. I’ve only ever known him to do that if he’s deep in his cups, and it’s rare to see him drink much.”
“You ain’t missing anything, he’s not very good at it.” I snort. “I’m going to crash here tonight, then he’s going to drive us back out to the salvage yard in the morning to get our bikes. I was too tired tonight to ride. That should tell you everything you need to know about our ‘workout.’”
“I know it’s been a big first day, but there’s something I want to talk to you about before you call it a wrap,” Deacon says. He looks around the kitchen and then peeks out into the bar area, making sure we’re completely alone.
“Okay, what’s on your mind?” I ask, trying to hide my confusion.
“I’ve got a project for you. Something has come to the club’s attention, and the table decided you might be in a good position to help us investigate it. There have been a lot of young folks showing up at the hospital the last couple of months, having a bad reaction to some new drug they’ve taken, some pills they’re getting at parties. They say it’s kind of like ecstasy, but apparently, it’s an opiate. It’s getting its hooks into people, and we’re seeing some addicts asking our distributors if they can get it for them. We don’t deal in shit like this, but we haven’t been able to track down who’s bringing it into our town.”
“All right…so how do you think I can help?” I ask him, not seeing any real connection.
“Whoever is dealing this shit is targeting young people, like I said, selling it as a party drug. You know we don’t deal around schools or to teenagers. Well, whoever is slinging this shit, they don’t have our scruples. I want you to keep your eyes and ears open around your school. If you see anyone passing this shit around, find out where they got it, and let us know. Now, if you get a thread, don’t go tugging on it yourself. Bring it to us and we’ll see where it leads, you got it?”
“Yeah, of course, that’s no trouble. I always pay attention in class, you know me,” I reply with a grin. “I’ll just stay extra sharp, lurk around the bathrooms and smoke between classes, see what kind of stuff I see going on.”
“That’s good, Chase, that’s really good. You get some rest and take care of yourself. Don’t let anything we do interfere with your schooling, and let me know if you need anything, all right?”
“Thanks, Prez,” I say. “I’ll let you know immediately if I hear anything.” I pick up my plate and a soda I found in the back of the fridge. Since my hands are full, Deacon walks me through the bar and punches in the code to the basement for me. I scarf down my dinner while I check out the apartment I’ve been assigned. Then, after a quick shower, I lie down, sleep washing over me almost instantly.
After the crazy day, my last thoughts before I drift off aren’t of work or fighting, however, but of a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair, her perfect lips calling my name.
Chapter Six
When I wake up the next morning, my muscles are stiffer than the sledgehammer I used to work them. I have to stand in the shower for a few minutes, letting the scalding hot water loosen me up before I can get dressed and make it upstairs. Reese is already there, standing by the bar, holding a thermos in each hand.
“Morning.” I nod to him as he walks over to meet me by the front door. He hands me the thermos and goes on outside without replying. With a shrug, I follow him to the truck we brought back last night and climb into the passenger seat.
Reese doesn’t say anything at all on the drive back to the salvage yard. After watching him sip at his thermos, I crack open the one he gave me to find it filled with what I think is coffee. It’s so light I can’t be sure, so I give it an experimental sip.
“Whew!” I say out loud. “I learned something new today. You’ve got a sweet tooth, man—you need to add a little coffee to this cream and sugar.”
Reese lets out a derisive grunt, but other than that, we ride in silence. Once we’re back at the yard, he hops out of the truck and heads straight to the office. I check my phone and see that I still have an hour until I need to be at school, so I crank up my bike and head back to my parents’ house. I’m still wearing the same jeans and t-shirt from yesterday, and I want to put on something…well, not nicer, but at least cleaner before I see Sasha.
My dad, stepmom, and stepsister are still eating breakfast when I rush in the front door of their house, both of them looking up from the paper expectantly. “Chase!” My dad smiles. “How did things go yesterday? I got your text and figured you’d want to hang out with your new friends.”
“It was good, Dad. I have to get changed quick and get to school!” I call to them as I head upstairs.
“Don’t you at least want some food?” my dad calls after me.
“I’ll take some bacon, if you’ve got it!” I yell down to them, my stomach rumbling in agreement.
I quickly get changed into a plain white t-shirt and some clean jeans, then throw my cut and jacket back on. As I run back down the stairs, my dad greets me at the bottom with a fat slab of bacon wedged between slices of toast.
“You guys are the best, thanks,” I say as I grab the sandwich from him.
“Chase, what happened to your eye?” my dad asks me as I head back out the door.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing! See you guys later!” I yell before stuffing the food in my mouth and slapping my half-helmet back onto my head. Before I can crank up the bike, I suddenly remember what else I needed here and jump back off my motorcycle to run into the garage. It only takes me a moment to find Torin’s old helmet, which I strap to one of my belt loops before I fire up my bike and roar out of the driveway. I wave to my parents, who are still standing in the doorway, with slightly worried expressions on their faces.
I mak
e record time getting to school, so intent on seeing Sasha again that I have to constantly remind myself to slow down and be cool. Being reckless on a motorcycle is dangerous, but being careless around this woman could be heart-breaking.
As I pull into the back parking lot behind the shop building, I finally have to admit to myself that the feeling in my stomach isn’t from too much greasy meat this morning. I’ve got butterflies for this girl, and I’ve got them bad.
As soon as I park my bike, I see her sitting on the back steps with Mr. Aikens. He’s out here, smoking his pipe and chatting with her, his normally dour face lighting up in a rare smile. I completely understand. Something about that woman makes the air around her seem warmer and it’s almost intoxicating. Sasha waves to me as I take my helmet off and hang it from my handlebar, then her face breaks into a huge grin when I stand up and show her the other helmet still hanging from my belt.
She stands up and skips down the steps, jogging over to me. “You remembered!” she says breathlessly. “I suppose this means you’re going to follow through and take me for a ride this afternoon?”
“If you’re still up for it, absolutely. Just remember, you’ll be my first, so we’re going to have to take it slow…” I only realize what I’ve said after the words are hanging in the air between us, and I feel my cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment when she stares at me in silence.
After what seems like an eternity, she bursts into laughter, a high clear peal that is so enchanting my humiliation completely drains away. I can’t help but chuckle with her, and finally say, “Maybe that didn’t come out quite the way I meant it to.”
“It came out perfect,” she replies. “Just so you know, it will be my first time too, so I want you to be gentle.”
She bursts into laughter again at my look of slack-jawed amazement, then grabs my hand and pulls me gently towards the door. “Come on, I heard Mr. Aikens tapping out his pipe. That seems to be our pre-bell warning that class is starting. Let’s go mess with this Mustang and get through our day, then you can show me around your town this evening.”
She starts to release my hand when we get to the sidewalk, but I shift my grip and start to intertwine my fingers with hers. She glances down at our hands before turning to me with a smile and changing her grip so our fingers link together. Hand in hand, we walk into the building, neither of us willing to let go until we have to actually get to work.
Chapter Seven
Our automotive class is over all too quickly, then the rest of the school day drags on interminably. I remember the request Deacon made of me, and I make sure to hang out in the bathrooms where the smokers are known to congregate between classes. After lunch, I wander around the back of the building, looking for any other students engaged in questionable behavior, but other than interrupting an incredibly awkward and sloppy make out session, I don’t see anything noteworthy.
I’m almost exhausted by the end of the school day, from the combination of my exertions yesterday and the anticipation of spending time outside of school with Sasha. When I get back to my bike after the final bell rings, she’s already there waiting for me, fiddling with the helmet I left strapped to the handlebar.
“You ready to get out of here?” I ask her as I walk up.
“I’m a little nervous,” she admits. “I wanted to ask you a couple of things before we take off. I didn’t mention it this morning because I wasn’t sure how to ask without seeming rude.”
When she trails off, I smile and say, “You want to know what happened to my face, don’t you?”
“Oh my god,” she gasps sarcastically. “I hadn’t even noticed that! I was going to ask you what are those?” She laughs, pointing at my boots.
“Ha-ha,” I say shortly, walking up to her so she can see my face clearly. “I went out last night to help with a truck repossession. The owner took exception to us towing his vehicle and knocked me upside the head.”
“Well, you’re lucky,” Sasha says as she raises a hand to rub at my still-swollen cheek. “Most men can’t pull off the brooding, bloody, tough guy look, but you wear it well. Badass, even. Now, my other question is simple: Where are you planning on running off with me today? I need to text a friend in case I’m kidnapped.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t imagine kidnapping you without sending out proper notifications,” I say with a straight face. “Tell the search parties that they’ll want to start looking for you out at the Emerald Isle boardwalk. You were most likely last seen getting funnel cakes with an extremely suspicious-looking man, who then took you for a walk out to the pier.”
“That sounds like a wonderful way to go missing,” Sasha gushes before holding the helmet out to me. “Now, help me get this thing on correctly.”
She puts it on her head and I reach under her chin to slide the straps through the eyelets. Our faces are so close together as I work on it that I can feel her breath on my cheek, and when I cinch it tight for her, I notice her gaze lingering on my face.
“You’re thinking about it too, aren’t you?” she whispers teasingly as she leans into me. She steps away abruptly with a grin, then says, “Fortunately for you, I’m not the kind of girl who would take advantage of a man in such a public place.”
“Then let me take us somewhere more private,” I reply as I cinch up my own helmet.
She laughs and says, “Let’s stick to the funnel cakes for now. Come on, see if you can get that thing running and let’s get out of here.”
After I crank up the bike and steady it, I wave for her to mount up behind me. I’ve never had a woman ride behind me on a motorcycle before, and a tingle shoots through my entire body when she throws her leg over the seat and scoots forward to press into my back. She’s wearing a heavy coat, even though it’s relatively warm again today, which I realize means she was planning for this moment when she got dressed. Another shiver ripples through me as her arms wind around my abdomen and she squeezes herself to me.
“Is this how I’m supposed to do it?” she asks, her breath warm in my ear.
“I don’t know if it’s right, but it’s definitely the way I want,” I reply. I kick the bike backwards out of the space, pat her hands which are clutching my midsection, then shift it into first gear. Her grip tightens into a respectable Heimlich maneuver as I putter through the parking lot, so when we come to the last stop sign before we hit the main road, I pat her hands again reassuringly.
“Squeeze as tight as you need to,” I call to her. “I can take it.”
“I hope so, because if the entire ride is like this, I’m going to crawl inside your coat with you!” she replies.
I chuckle at the barely-restrained fear and excitement in her voice. If I thought she was actually scared, I would stop this ride right now, but I’m pretty sure I know exactly how she’s feeling. When I first got on a motorcycle, I had no idea what to expect. I remember the first time I got over thirty-five miles per hour, and how it made me feel as though I was flying. Then, I got over fifty and thought I was certainly going to sail right off the seat, my final moments nothing but a rush of vertigo followed by an abrupt and terminal impact.
You master the fear as you become accustomed to the brutal and bone-crushing pavement roaring by, inches below you, with nothing but inertia and your own sense of balance keeping you apart. You never lose respect for it though, and the exhilaration never fades.
Even with traffic, the ride out to the boardwalk only takes about twenty minutes from the school. Sasha relaxes once we get onto the main roads, and I know I’ve got a true convert when I hear her laughter bubbling in my ear as I open the bike up on the highway. When I pull into a public beachfront parking area and kill the bike, she hops off immediately, a huge goofy grin plastered across her face.
“I love it!” she yells, as I settle the bike and dismount beside her. She throws herself at me and wraps me up in a hug. “Thank you! That was awesome. I can’t wait to do this more with you!”
I stand there awkwardly for a moment befor
e returning the hug, hyperconscious of how her breasts are pressing against me even through her coat, and the fact that this is definitely not a “brotherly hug.” She’s plastered to me from my neck to my knees, and when the bulge of my cock gives an appreciative twitch, she hugs me even tighter.
“You get excited riding too, don’t you?” she observes as she lets me go.
“Always,” I deadpan as I begin undoing my helmet. “Nothing fires me up like the rumbling of that old bike.”
Sasha gets her helmet undone and hands it over to me so that I can hang it from the handlebar. “I know what you mean! That seat makes your bottom feel tingly, doesn’t it?”
“Tingly?” I burst out laughing. “Yeah, I guess that’s a good word for it. I’ve never had a girl ride with me or try to describe it before. I’ll tell you one thing, though, riding always makes me thirsty. Want to get a drink and walk down to the beach with me?”
“That sounds great,” Sasha agrees. She grabs my hand, making a show of lacing our fingers together, then waits for me to take the lead. “Show me around your town, Chase, and all your favorite places.”
We walk hand-in-hand over to an ice cream shop at the corner. “My dad would always bring my brother and me over here when we would come to the pier and go fishing,” I tell her as we go inside. “The ice cream is good, but the funnel cakes are the best. You can eat inside here too, so you don’t get sand in the damned thing. I’ll get one of those, what would you like?”
“I’ll share whatever you’re having,” Sasha says. “Show me all the things you like.”
I order the funnel cake and a large drink, passing Sasha the cup so she can go fill it up. “Two cups?” I ask her with a raised eyebrow.
