Fearless Curves

by D. H. Cameron

  D. H. Cameron

  New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author

  Presents

  Fearless Curves

  A Big Girls & Bad Boys Erotic Romance

  >>O<<

  Visit me at: cameronromance.com

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  Hey! Before you head off into the story, consider checking out my other books. If you like bikers, go look at the insanely cheap, 5-star rated Softail Curves - The Novel. It’s got all three parts of the Softail Curves Trilogy in one volume for a really nice price!

  Or how about rock stars? Who doesn’t like rock stars? Rock & Roll Curves will satisfy your rock and roll fantasies as will its sequels, Rock & Roll Curves - Love Her 2 Times and Rock & Roll Curves - 3rd Times the Charm. You won’t regret picking up this series.

  Now, onto Fearless Curves!

  “Brandy, would you come see me for a minute,” Vic called to me as he walked by my office. I looked up from the stack of folders on my desk, grabbed my coffee and followed my boss to his office. I wound my way through the boxes and stacks of papers, files and law books that sat in the hallway between our offices and found Vic shuffling through the mess that he called his desk.

  “What do you need...besides someone to organize that rat’s nest?” I asked. Vic looked at me meaningfully.

  “You volunteering?” he asked in return. Vic was middle-aged but you’d hardly know it but for the grey in his beard. His head was shaven and he wore a hoop in one ear. Vic worked out a lot and under his dress shirt and tie, his arms, and presumably his chest too, were covered in tattoos. As usual his sleeves were rolled up to his mid forearm, his tie was worn loosely and even though it was only nine in the morning, Vic looked like he’d been at work for ten hours.

  “Um, no. Thanks anyway. You should really look for a bigger place, you know,” I advised him.

  “Rents cheap and the clients don’t care,” he told me. That was for sure. Our clients weren’t exactly high class. Vic was a criminal defense attorney and I was his assistant attorney. This was the kind of job you got when you graduated from a state university with a law degree but that’s the best education I could afford without going into debt for the rest of my life.

  Our clients were generally the dregs of society, potheads, bikers, strippers and escorts. It was glamorous...not! It was scary at times but I’d come to discover that our clients, Vic’s clients rather, respected a good defense attorney. They weren’t going to poison that relationship, especially if we could keep them out of prison and Vic was good at keeping his clients out of prison.

  “Maybe a storage unit so I don’t trip and kill myself on the way to the coffee maker,” I suggested. Vic looked at me showing me his winning smile complete with the one gold tooth. He was a lawyer at least in part thanks to the Texas Department of Criminal Justice. He took correspondence classes serving time for robbing a series of liquor stores in the early nineties and then attended Texas A&M to finish his degree once he was released. Vic was reformed, sort of, and now he worked within the law here in Las Vegas and he was damn good at it.

  “Yeah, I’ll get right on that. So, I’m taking Lacey to Hawaii next week,” he told me. Lacey, Vic’s wife, was a former stripper but she was sweet and very pretty even though her boobs were as hard as rocks. I mean, they looked as hard as rocks. I’d never felt them or anything.

  “I know, you told me about the trip,” I replied.

  “Yeah, well I tried to clear the schedule but Judge Sullivan was being a bitch as usual. You’re going to need to handle a hearing for me. It should be easy. The cops conducted an illegal search. Even Sullivan will see it and probably toss out the case,” Vic told me.

  “Vic! I’m not ready for that,” I complained. I’d passed the bar the year before but I only went to court to assist Vic. I wasn’t experienced enough to do it on my own. Well let’s be honest, I was afraid of doing it on my own. Afraid I’d mess up, get someone thrown in jail and disappoint Vic.

  “Kid, you’re ready. You’ll do fine. Just read over the file...,” Vic told me and then began rifling through the piles of folders on his desk. “Damn it, it was just...oh, here it is. Just read this over, present the evidence and he’ll walk,” Vic said as he located the file and handed it to me.

  “Who will walk?” I asked wondering what type of client I was dealing with.

  “Jack Anker. He’s a biker,” Vic told me and he must have seen the look on my face because he didn’t waste a second trying to sooth my concerns. “Look, he’s a rough character but he won’t bite the hand that feeds him. We’re meeting with him on Friday. I’ll make sure he plays nice. It’ll be fine,” he assured me.

  This wasn’t what I expected when I decided to attend law school. I expected to find myself working in a law office with nice clients with normal problems. But instead, I was helping Vic defend criminals. I knew they deserved a good lawyer and that it was the State’s burden to prove they had broken the law, but many of the people we defended were obviously guilty and we got them off on technicalities. It didn’t always sit well with me.

  Vic explained that the police and prosecutors had to follow the law and if they didn’t, our clients deserved to get off. I knew he was right and even Vic had refused to represent certain clients because of what they were accused of. Most of the crimes we dealt with were so-called victimless crimes. Disorderly conduct, solicitation, small time drug dealers and pot heads, violations of the entertainment ordinances, in other words strippers providing enhanced services, and stuff like that. We worked in Las Vegas and there were a lot of people trying to have fun or provide that fun to the people that came to town to party. Vic usually avoided the violent criminals and real bad guys.

  “What did this Mr. Anker do?” I wondered.

  “Cops searched him without a warrant, found a handgun. Look, he’s a biker but he’s not a criminal, well not a real criminal,” Vic told me and flashed his smile again. I rolled my eyes.

  “Fine. I don’t want you and Lacey to miss out on your vacation,” I replied, the ever dutiful assistant.

  “Thanks, kid. I’ll bring you a conch shell or something,” Vic told me.

  “Wow, thanks!” I said with a hint of sarcasm. I needed to find a new job. I liked Vic but this wasn’t for me. I didn’t like the people we represented. Honestly, they frightened me. They lived lives that were foreign to me, that I couldn’t understand. I tried to stay on the straight and narrow, to stay out of trouble, but they seemed to enjoy living on the edge of lawlessness. I suppose what I did to defend them had merit but I always felt a bit grimy at the end of the day.

  >>O<<

  Friday arrived and since I had a meeting, even if it was with a biker, I dressed nice, a blue skirt suit, a pretty blouse, heels and all that. Vic was late but our meeting with Mr. Anker wasn’t until three o’clock. He probably had an impromptu meeting or more likely Lacey called him back to bed. That happened more often than Vic liked to admit but it was easy to tell. When he would finally make it into the office, he came in whistling. I didn’t blame him. Lacey was beautiful and had a great body. I knew her body wasn’t all real but I was still jealous of her fabulous body and that she had a loving husband even if he wasn’t really my idea of Prince Charming.

  Vic was usually in by ten in the morning, however, and it was after ten that morning when he finally called me. “Kid, I’m taking the day off. Lacey wants to go bikini shopping before we fly out tomorrow,” he told me. What?

  “Vic, we’re supposed to meet with Mr. Anker this afternoon,” I reminded him.

  “Oh shit! Slipped my mind. You can han
dle it, kid. You know the drill. I can’t disappoint the missus,” Vic told me.

  “Oh, come on, Vic,” I complained and as I did I heard Lacey kissing on him and talking in that baby-talk I couldn’t imagine a man finding attractive. I guess Vic did, however, because he groaned.

  “Sorry, kid. You’ll do fine. I’ve got to go,” he said and then I heard Lacey moan. Really? He couldn’t call me after they had sex?

  “Yeah, have fun. You too, Lacey,” I replied, shouting so Vic’s wife could hear me.

  “Uh huh! Thanks, Brandy! Oh God!” she replied as it sounded like she was about to climax.

  “Later, kid,” Vic said and the phone went dead. Now I couldn’t get the vision out of my head of the bubbly blonde ex-stripper riding my boss. That wouldn’t have been so bad but I hadn’t had sex since...uh...um...had it really been since I was in college? Ug! But the vision faded as I remembered I had to meet with the biker all by myself later that day. Vic was a decent boss, easy going most of the time and he paid me really well but it was times like these when I wished I could have found a better job. Heck, right then I’d have taken a job as a legal secretary to get out of this meeting.

  As expected, the day flew by. They always did when I was dreading something like meeting with this biker. I left to get lunch at about two that afternoon. I felt anxious and nervous as I walked down to the noodle place past the pawn shop, the two bail bond places and that seedy sex shop with the mannequin wearing the dominatrix gear. Yeah, I worked in a real nice part of town. I stayed and ate at the noodle joint among the mostly Asian patrons and then walked back, considering crossing the street to the liquor store and getting a bottle of something strong. I really wasn’t looking forward to this.

  I must have missed the motorcycle parked on the street as I returned because in my office was a man whose appearance left no doubt that he was a biker. I stood in the doorway unsure of what to say as the man looked over my degree on the opposite wall. Finally, I cleared my throat and the man turned to face me. “Mr. Anker?” I asked.

  “Fuck, don’t call me Mr. Anker. That’s my old man’s name,” he said and took a seat and threw his big, black boots and blue-jeans clad legs up on my desk. He was a tall man, with a narrow waist and broad shoulders. His sleeveless leather vest revealed muscular arms covered in tattoos. His golden hair fell just past his shoulders and his beard was worn short. His narrow gray eyes bore into me and I swallowed hard under his gaze.

  “Jack?” I asked cautiously.

  “Call me, Rogue,” he said. Rogue? Was that a nickname or something? It seemed kind of silly.

  “OK, nice to meet you...Rogue. I’m Brandy. How did you get in here?” I said.

  “I picked the lock. I figure you and Vic were at lunch or something. Where’s Vic?” he asked. Picked the lock? Nice!

  “Um, he’s tied up,” I said and almost giggled. Lacey might have tied him up for all I knew. “I’ll be handling the hearing next week,” I told him.

  “Yeah? Sweet!” he replied.

  “Why is that sweet, Rog...are you sure I can’t call you Jack?” I asked. He looked at me and a sly grin crept over his face, a grin that made me slightly uncomfortable for some reason.

  “For you, anything, doll. Jack’s fine. And sweet because I dig chicks like you in their little lawyer outfits,” Jack told me. I know I blushed and I hated myself for doing it. Suddenly, however, I’d wished I’d chosen something more conservative to wear. Not that the blue skirt suit wasn’t conservative but as Jack looked me over, it felt as if I was standing there in my underwear. The hem was just over my knees and my blouse had one to many buttons unbuttoned but it felt like he could see right through my clothes.

  “Well, thank you but let’s stick to business, OK?” I urged the biker. He was exactly what I’d expected but nothing like I’d imagined. The jeans, the boots, the sleeveless leather vest, all fit my expectations. But this wasn’t the scuzzy, beer-bellied biker I’d envisioned in my head. Jack was all muscle and sinew, all rough and rugged, a bad boy with an attitude and everything a girl wants in a man even if she won’t admit it. Well, most girls anyway. Frankly, Jack scared the bejesus out of me.

  “Sure, we can talk business. Let’s do it over drinks. Hogs and Heifers isn’t far,” he suggested. Hogs and Heifers was a biker bar in Downtown Vegas. It attracted tourists but most of them were bikers looking to hang out at the famous bar based on the original in New York. Las Vegas had its own versions of all kinds of famous places. I’d been there once with Vic and Lacey. It was rowdy and loud, not really my scene. I felt like I was about to get kidnapped or caught in a bar brawl at any moment.

  “Gee, thanks but no thanks. Let’s just do this here. I’ve got a...date tonight,” I lied. Vic grinned again. He saw right through me and that worried me a bit.

  “Whatever you say, Brandy,” he replied. I took a seat across the desk and took out his file. I asked him to explain the incident that brought him to us.

  “Some cop with a stick up his ass pulled me over. Said my blinker wasn’t working. I had my 1911 with me. I’d been at the range practicing. It’s legal and all,” he told me.

  “A 1911? That’s the handgun?” I asked.

  “Yeah, a .45 caliber semi-auto. Anyway, he assumes I’m some kind of criminal and searches the bike. Finds the gun and charges me with carrying a concealed weapon. That’s bullshit. I was carrying it legal,” he said.

  “You didn’t consent to a search?” I clarified.

  “Fuck no! I got nothing to hide but he had no probable cause to search and I wouldn’t give it to him even if he asked. None of his damned business. He thinks because I look a certain way, that’s enough. Fuck him,” Jack told me, his anger and frustration coming out but not directed at me.

  “Well, you’re right. That’s not enough. I think I can get this thrown out next week. You don’t even need to be there and honestly, it’s better if you weren’t,” I replied.

  “Why’s that?” he asked.

  “Look, I’m not judging but you...um...,” I began to say.

  “I get it, doll. I look like a dirt bag and I might offend the judge’s delicate sensibilities,” he said finishing my thought though I wouldn’t have put it exactly like that.

  “Look, Judge Sullivan is uptight. Let’s not give her a chance to make assumptions like that cop did. Chances are he won’t be there to counter my arguments and the prosecutor won’t have any hard evidence to challenge me. I’ll call you after and let you know what happened,” I said and then at the last moment added, “And you’re not a dirt bag.”

  “Thanks, doll. You’re a saint. You sure you don’t want to go out with me and get fucked up?” he asked me. I felt bad for Jack. He was getting a raw deal. Didn’t matter what he was really doing with the gun, the cop didn’t have the right search him. But, it wasn’t pity. It was professional. I was a lawyer and though I wasn’t always thrilled with the people Vic represented, I didn’t like seeing anyone get railroaded. Especially when it was just because of the way they looked.

  I knew how that felt. I wasn’t ashamed of my body or the way I looked but plenty of people made assumptions about a big girl like me. I was lazy or lacked self-control, I was out of shape or ate like a pig, I was a loser. I wasn’t any of those things. I worked hard at my job and I took care of myself. So I wasn’t born slim and svelte. That didn’t mean I wasn’t in shape and it definitely didn’t mean I was a loser. So, I could identify with Jack. That didn’t mean I was going to go out with him and get fucked up as he put it.

  “Gee, your quite the charmer but I’m meeting friends tonight,” I lied forgetting I’d already lied.

  “I thought you had a date, Brandy?” Jack challenged me. Damn! That’s why I didn’t lie. I was horrible at it.

  “Uh...that’s what I meant. I have a date with friends,” I said in hopes he’d buy it.

  “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. I’m a big boy. You don’t need to lie to me,” he said. He knew what I was about and it was a bit disconc
erting.

  “Sorry, I just didn’t want to...look, you’re not my type,” I replied deciding to be honest but gentle.

  “How do you know if you don’t take me for a test ride,” Jack replied as that grin crossed his face again. He clearly intended the double meaning. Suddenly, I felt warm.

  “Um...no. I think we need to keep this relationship all business,” I replied.

  “So, were in a relationship? That’s a start. But one thing has been eating at me. Are those pantyhose or are you wearing stockings,” Jake asked and I know I blushed at that. I had the sudden urge to cover up, my conservative outfit feeling even less so suddenly. Why would he even ask that?

  “None of your business, Mr. Anker,” I replied, my voice trembling.

  “Ouch! Stop it with the mister crap, doll. I’m not a gentleman, I’m not respectable and I don’t treat women like ladies,” he told me and winked suggestively. I realized I wasn’t breathing any longer and exhaled finally. Why did that make me feel so aroused? I had no idea but I couldn’t help but ask the obvious question.

  “What do you treat women like?” I wondered trying to sound a bit judgmental but failing miserably and sounding curious, which I was. Jack pulled his feet from my desk, set them on the floor and leaned forward. His gray eyes narrowed even further as he stared into mine.

  “Why don’t you let me show you? Let me bring out the bad girl inside, Brandy,” he offered suggestively. Oh my!

  “I...I don’t have a bad girl inside,” I told him laughing as if the idea was ridiculous. He scoffed at that.

  “Every woman has a dark side. A temptress, a bad girl, a whore longing to get out and stretch her legs...or spread them,” he said. I went absolutely red at that, my whole body warming up, my inner thighs feeling prickly from the moist heat. I didn’t know what to say to this man. Nobody had ever talked to me like that and I was sure when I found a man that did, I’d slap him across the face and walk away. Instead, dirty thoughts flashed through my mind. Wicked, naughty things that a girl should only think of in the dark by herself so no one would discover her secret desires.