by Tahlia Gold
Dylan: Without clothes on.
Me: You think you can get my clothes off just like that?
Dylan: Is that a challenge? Challenge accepted. My place or yours?
God, I’m so wet thinking about him. If he were here right now, I would find an empty room and fuck his brains out. He gets me so damned hot. I don’t understand it. I haven’t felt this way in forever.
Me: I’m going to be at the hospital all night.
Dylan: Wtf? I dropped you off twelve hours ago. Are you a slave?
Sometimes I wonder that myself.
Me: Why? Are you into BDSM?
Dylan: Lol. I’m always willing to try new things.
Me: I’m off next weekend.
12
Dylan
Einstein was really on to something with his whole theory of relativity. There is no doubt in my mind that time is relative after this week. This has been the longest week of my life. It’s finally Friday and I’ve been doing everything I can throughout the week to keep from texting Jess. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how bad I want her.
I’ve taken apart everything I can possibly take apart on my bike, cleaned it, polished it and put it back together. Right now I’m installing some new ape-hanger style handlebars just to have something to do. I don’t even like that kind of handlebar. But I need to keep my hands busy.
I check my phone. It’s 2pm. I think I’ve waited long enough. She said she was off this weekend. Friday afternoon counts as the weekend in my book.
Me: We on for tonight?
I stare at my phone for a couple minutes, hoping I can somehow will it into delivering a text message from her that will let me know if I will be unloading the deep sensation that’s been building in my balls since I saw Jess at the hospital for the first time. Nothing comes back, so I put it in my pocket and go back to working on my bike.
Road Dawg comes out of the club house. “Those are some nice bars.”
“Yeah, we’ll see. I don’t know if I like them.”
“Why in the hell are you putting them on then?”
I don’t respond. I’m not about to tell him the real reason I’ve been working on my bike so much.
“Listen,” he says. “I need you to do a run with me tomorrow. To Vegas.”
I stop tightening the bolt I’m working on and look at him. “Vegas? What for?”
“Business. I got some business over there and I want to have somebody along. That somebody is you.”
I swear to God if I don’t get to fuck Jess this weekend I’m going to kill somebody. “You can’t get somebody else? I’m kind of busy.”
“Yeah. I could get somebody else. But I’m not going to. I want somebody I trust. Somebody that’s dependable. Somebody that can take care of themselves. That’s you.”
“What kind of business are we talking about?”
“Just business, man. You ask too many fucking questions, you know that?”
“Fine.” There’s no use arguing with him. If I don’t go with him, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“We can talk about the Soul Crushers situation too,” he says. “We need to plan our next move.”
“Really? It seems to be quieting down. We haven’t heard jack-shit from them since their little fireworks show and word is they’re trying to squash the beef.”
“So what? They hit us, we hit them back. Harder. Otherwise we might as well take these fucking jackets off our back, sell our bikes, and take up knitting.”
“I’m just saying, it’s not like we’re beefing over anything substantial. It was a bar fight that started it.”
“It don’t matter what started it. We’re going to finish it. We need to wipe those fucks out completely.”
I say, “Destroy their entire club? That’s a bit harsh don’t you think? And it could cost us a lot of blood.”
“Whose fucking side are you on? Are you a Rebel or not? Besides, when they’re gone we take over all their business.”
I think I’m starting to understand better what’s going on. “They run guns. We don’t run guns. Why would we try to take over their business? That shit brings way too much heat from the feds.”
“It’s a lot of heat but it’s also lucrative as shit. No risk, no reward. If you can’t stand the heat—” He presses his finger into my chest. “—then get out of the fucking kitchen. You understand?”
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I can’t resist pulling it out. I read the text.
Jess: There’s a bar by my house called Dime a Dozen. 8pm tonight?
Thank god.
“Hey,” Road Dawg says. “What the fuck are you doing? I’m talking to you here and you’re getting on your fucking phone?”
I put it away. I don’t care about anything he’s saying anymore. The blood is rushing from my brain to my crotch. “What time do you want to head out tomorrow?”
“Be ready to go at 10am.”
Perfect. I get with Jess tonight and take a nice little trip out to the desert tomorrow morning. “No problem,” I say.
13
Jess
I’m sitting at the bar, nursing my rum and coke. I’m early, like always. The black skirt I’m wearing is entirely too short and I’m constantly tugging down at the hem. What the hell was I thinking wearing this? It’s way too much for this place. It’s a sea of hipsters in here with their skinny jeans and print t-shirts.
The sensation of the black-lace thong rubbing against my freshly shaved lady parts is distracting. I started shaving my bikini line earlier—even I know you shouldn’t show up to a fuck date without cleaning up a little—but once I started I didn’t stop until it was all gone. I wonder if he’ll like it. Judging by the women I see in the ER it seems to be the style these days so I’m guessing he will.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Great. Now one of the hipsters is hitting on me.
I brush him off as best as I can. “I already have one.”
“Can I sit with you then?”
He has those ear rings that stretch your ears lobes out like an African tribal woman. He’s about my height but I’m pretty sure I weigh more than he does. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“Whatever,” he says and wonders off to his next victim.
It’s 8 o’clock now. I hope Dylan shows up soon so I don’t have to keep fighting off these pale, skinny freaks. Even back in high school when lots of boys were skinny, Dylan had a muscular body. He started working out in his early teenage years and he was always the epitome of masculinity to me.
When we had our little fling—is that what you would even call it?—we had to hide it from my brother. Now I don’t even know why we did it. I don’t think he would have cared. He was protective over me, but Dylan and my brother were best friends—completely inseparable. Anyway, the sneaking around did add a little extra bit of excitement to our already hormone-raged bodies.
I was a virgin then too. He wasn’t, but he also didn’t try to sleep with me. I don’t know why. We did make out a lot. And we touched each other. He gave me my first orgasm with his fingers. But somehow it never seemed like the right time to go all the way.
And then he was gone.
It pisses me off still when I think about it. After my brother died, he just left without saying anything to anybody. I kept thinking he would call. Let me know he was okay. Where he was. It wasn’t even so much that I was upset that I couldn’t see him anymore. I was grieving. He was grieving. It made no sense that he would take off like that.
It doesn’t matter now though. I’m over it. I’m just here to get laid. Never mind that I’ve never had a one-night stand in my entire life. There’s a first for everything.
The sound of a motorcycle engine blasts in from outside. That must be him. My heartbeat quickens. I take a deep breath to calm myself.
When the door to the bar opens and he walks in, people turn to look at him. He’s ignoring them though. He sees me at the bar and looks right at me as he walks over.
He says, “Hey,” then looks around. “This is your spot?”
“I’ve never been here before. My apartment is close but I don’t get out much.”
He nods then unabashedly looks me over. “You look nice,” he says.
“Thanks.”
He orders a whiskey and we go to a booth in the corner.
Can we just skip this part and get to the sex? I’m ready. I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life. I’m not about to come out and say it though. At least we can have one drink.
“Did you miss me?” he says.
Yes, I missed you, asshole. I thought about you every day for a year until I started to get used to the idea of you being gone. But he means since we saw each other last week.
“Miss you? I almost forgot about you. No offense, but I get busy with work. You missed me?”
He chuckles, sips his drink, and looks at me intently.
“What?” I say.
“Nothing.” But he still has a big grin spread across his sexy lips. “You were never any good at lying and you still aren’t.”
“Fine,” I say. “Yes, Dylan. You’ve been running through my head all week like a wild stallion. Is that what you want to hear?”
“I like it when you say my name.”
Now I want him to kiss me and the way he’s looking at me I think he’s about to.
But then his cell phone rings and he reaches into his pocket and frowns when he sees the caller id.
“Sorry,” he says, “I have to take this. I’ll be right back. Don’t run off with one of these skinny-ass hipsters while I’m gone.”
14
Dylan
It’s Road Dawg calling. I answer the phone when I get away from the table.
“Yeah” I say.
“Where you at?”
“Just a second. I can barely hear you.”
I go outside. “What’s up?” I say.
“I’m at the club house. Where are you?”
“I’m at a bar.”
“What bar?”
“What are you my dad? I’m getting laid. What do you need?”
“Relax, partner. I’m just making sure you’re still ready to go tomorrow.”
“I said I’d be there. I’ll be there.”
“10am,” he says.
“10am. Bright and fucking early.”
“All right then. Go get your dick wet. I think it’ll do a lot to improve your fucking attitude.”
I hang up. Something is pissing me off about Road Dawg. I’m not quite sure what it is.
When I get back inside, there’s a guy standing at the booth talking to Jess.
Goddammit. I leave for one second and the vultures start fucking swarming. I’m not going to start any shit though.
Jess’ face tells me everything I need to know when I get to the table. She’s relieved to see me. “Dylan,” she says.
“Did you make a friend?” I say.
The guy looks at me. He has a soul patch and he’s got those dead fish eyes that drunks get when they’ve gone past their limit. I recognize it because my father used to get it all the time. There’s two types of drunks. Nice and mean. My father was the mean kind. I’m sure I’m about to find out what kind this guy is.
“You her boyfriend?” he asks.
“Yes,” Jess offers. “He’s my boyfriend.”
That escalated quickly. I’m actually enjoying this now. Pretending to be her boyfriend. I don’t mind trying it on for a second.
“Ohh,” he says. The reek of alcohol from his breathe hits me like a piston. “Her boyfriend. I wasn’t doing nothing, bro. Honest. I’m just trying to get some of that pussy? You know?”
I raise my eyebrows and glance at Jess. She rolls her eyes.
I do know what you mean, bro. I’m trying to do the same thing and you are currently trying to cock block me.
“Alright, man,” I say. “You can take a walk. We’re busy.”
“Oh, I see,” he says. The words are barely intelligible. “You’re one of those tough guys, eh? You got your little leather jacket on and your little boots.” He points down at my boots.
I don’t follow his hand. I keep my eyes on him because I have a pretty good idea where this is going. “I’m being nice right now,” I say. “But I’m about to get pissed off.”
Jess says, “Let’s just get out of here Dylan.”
I keep looking at the guy. “Yeah, why don’t you get out of here Dylan.” He tries to imitate a girl’s voice. “Run off with your pecker tucked between your legs.”
I’ve been in enough dick measuring fights in my life to know this guy can’t do shit. But I don’t back down from anybody no matter how stupid they are.
“I’m standing right here,” I say. “Make your move.” I pause before adding, “Pussy.”
That last word seems to put him over the top. The rage flies into his face. I see him wind up his punch; it’s like he’s in slow motion. A blind person could probably dodge what’s about to come.
But I’m not blind. I move to the side and as his momentum carries him forward, I ram my fist hard into his belly.
He groans and doubles over, then falls to the floor.
“Hurts, don’t it,” I say.
I scan the room to see what the damage is. There’s a group of guys starting to come our way from the back of the bar. I’m not about to wait around to talk to this guy’s friends if that’s what they are.
“We should get out of here,” I say to Jess.
“That’s probably a good idea.” She sees the guys coming towards us too and we walk quickly out the door.
I lead her to my bike, looking over my shoulder. The guys are out of the bar faster than I thought they would be. Shit. Four of them. We’re not going to be able to get on my bike in time so I go to plan B. I maneuver Jess up against the wall of the building and say, “Don’t worry. I got this.”
She seems to believe me. I stand between her and the dudes about to come talk to us.
“What the fuck is your problem, bro?” one of them says. They stop several feet away.
“No problem. Dude took a swing at me. I put him down. He’s lucky I didn’t stick my boot in his mouth, too.”
“Oh yeah? He’s lucky? Seems to me that somebody’s about to get lucky.” He points to Jess. I back up a step and put my hand on her hip. I can hear her breathing, quick and shallow.
One of the other guys says, “Yeah, you going to fuck her, bro? She’s pretty hot.”
I say, “You boys need to run along before you get hurt.”
The one that seems like the leader laughs. “You know what I think? I think I’m going to fuck your girl and make you watch. How about that?” He pulls a knife out of his pocket, flips it open and takes a step forward.
I have the gun out and in his face before he realizes what’s happening. His friends run but he’s petrified in place, shaking. The knife falls from his hand. He has his eyes squeezed shut. “Hey man. I was just kidding, bro. It was a joke, bro. Don’t shoot me.”
I hit him in the forehead with the butt of the gun. Not too hard that it knocks him out. But hard enough that he’ll remember it tomorrow. “Get the fuck out of here,” I say.
That’s enough to get him in motion, and he starts running after his friends.
“Jesus Christ!” Jess says. I look at her.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Just… Fuck!” She’s looking at my gun.
I put it back in the holster behind my back. “We should definitely get out of here now.”
15
Jess
“Nice place,” Dylan says when we get inside my apartment.
I can’t tell if he’s joking or if he just has terrible taste. “It’s a dump,” I say, “and it’s in a bad neighborhood, but it’s cheap.”
“It’s not that bad.”
My heart is still pounding from what just happened. “I cannot believe you pulled a gun on those guys.”
“Really
?” he says. “Are you angry?”
“I mean, kind of.”
Part of me is mad. Never in my life have I been put in a position where I need a gun to get out of a situation. And the only reason it happened this time is because of Dylan. He laid the guy out in the bar. But the guy did swing first. And then when he pulled the gun… the look on those guys faces: pure terror. And the calmness and efficiency that he pulled the gun out with, it was like he did it every day. Like it was as natural as brushing his teeth. Yes, a part of me is mad. But another part, maybe an even bigger part, is turned on by it.
“You heard that guy,” he says, “He said he was going to rape you. What the fuck did you want me to do?”
I wanted you to do exactly what you did. Why don’t I want to admit it to him though? Because I think it’s wrong to pull guns on people. It’s definitely wrong to threaten to gang rape someone. Who knows if the guy was just talking or being serious. I can say he’ll think twice before trying to pull something like that again.
“I’m just not used to being around violence, I guess.”
He nods. “I can understand that. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just wound up you know?”
“Yeah, it’s a rush.”
A rush. Is that why I’m turned on? My flirt with danger. Is that why I’m so fucking attracted to this guy?
I say, “I think I have some beers in the fridge.”
He points to the back door. “You have a balcony?”
“Yep. I mean it’s not much of one but we can go out there.”
“Grab some beers. Let’s drink them on the balcony.”
When I get outside, he’s smoking a cigarette. I don’t even start to lecture him about what it’s doing to his body. As a doctor you see first-hand the effects long-term smoking can have on your body: to say it’s not good is putting it mildly. But even this I can’t help finding sexy. I’m losing my mind. I need to just get laid so I can start thinking straight again.
