by Sky Winters
Thinking it over, he suddenly snapped his fingers. “There’s this great bar up the street from here called The Corner Pub. It sounds all Irish and shit, but it’s not. It’s more like a sports bar. They’ve got live music sometimes, and pool tables. Does that sound fun?”
Allie certainly appreciated that he wanted to do what she thought sounded fun, instead of just dragging her along with him to places. She needed to prove that she could be adaptable, too. “Sure,” she answered. “Sounds fun. I parked my car out front.”
“Ah,” he replied. “Do you want to go for a ride on my bike?”
Sometimes, Allie’s mind could be quite innocent. She imagined him riding a bicycle for a moment before realizing that he meant his motorcycle. Of course. That was what vice presidents of motorcycle clubs rode…
“Sure,” she said, a little bit more hesitantly that time. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.”
“It’s like riding a bicycle,” Lance said dismissively, smiling.
Ha ha.
He assured her that her car would be safe in the parking lot and led her out back to where he’d parked his bike, in the employee lot. His motorcycle was a black Harley Davidson. She didn’t know what kind. She didn’t care what kind.
“I only have one helmet,” he told her, “but you can wear it since you’re new.”
That was both gallant and crazy of him. He handed the helmet to her and she readily put it on even though she wasn’t even on the bike yet. Lance chuckled as he looked her over. “How old are you, if I can ask that?”
Allie eyed him. “Twenty-five.”
He suddenly sighed, relieved. “I was starting to worry if you were in high school. I’m thirty.”
“It says our ages on the app,” she pointed out.
That just made him chuckle again. “Like anyone pays attention to that.”
Without really giving her any warning, he lifted her up and placed her on the motorcycle. So far, so good. It didn’t fall over and crush her or burst into flames or anything. At least not yet. Calm down, she mentally admonished herself. Remember, you’re going to fuck this bad boy later. He won’t want to bang if you keep acting so jumpy.
Lance mounted the bike in front of her and took her hands, placing them around his midsection. “You’re going to want to hold on tightly to me now,” he said. “And then, after several drinks, you’ll want to hold on even tighter.”
She was pretty sure she knew what that was supposed to mean.
They arrived a few minutes later at The Corner Pub. The ride had been extremely fast and loud, and she was pretty sure her heart was going to be hammering in her chest for hours, but she thought it was exhilarating. After he carefully lifted her up and off of the motorcycle, he took the helmet back and placed it into the storage space under the bike’s seat.
“After you,” Lance said, holding the door open for Allie.
This man was confusing. He mixed bad boy with gentleman so effortlessly. It was sort of jarring.
Allie went into the noisy bar. There were about a billion TV screens around, showing football and hockey at the same time. People were gathered around each of the screens, cheering for the various teams. Lance took her by the hand, not even trying to talk to her over the loudness, and led her over to a place at the bar.
She sat on a stool and he sat next to her, leaning close so he could hear her and she could hear him.
“What do you want to drink?” he asked her loudly.
Looking up at the menu on the wall, she thought it over. “A strawberry daiquiri,” she yelled back.
Lance smirked at her and ordered the drink Allie requested as well as a beer for himself. They drank together for a while, watching the games on TV as well as the people who actually cared about the games. It was a little awkward to be in a raucous sports bar like this with someone she didn’t know, but there was something thrilling about it, too. She’d wanted a stranger, after all.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” he asked her.
Allie shrugged. “Not really. Everyone else around me is doing it.” She stuck her tongue out at him.
Grinning, Lance pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and took one out, placing it between his lips. He put the pack back before retrieving a lighter from one of his front pockets. He lit his cigarette and Allie watched as it briefly illuminated his face. There was a slight, green ring around his pupils. His eyes technically weren’t brown at all. They were hazel.
After several drinks and several cigarettes, Lance turned to her. His breath smelled like Marlboros and Budweiser – a smoky, reedy smell.
“Do you want to play pool?” he asked her.
“What?” she asked back.
“Do you want to play pool?!” he asked, louder and with more urgency.
She licked her strawberry lips. “Sure!” she yelled back.
Carrying their half-full glasses of alcohol, they wove in and out of the people and tables until they found the segment of the bar that was devoted predominately to billiards. Allie wasn’t very good at pool, but neither was Lance, she soon found out, so it was okay. They were both so drunk and silly-feeling that it didn’t much matter whose ball was whose or what the rules were.
After about an hour of pool, he turned to her. “Do you want to go back to my place?” he asked her.
“What?” she asked back, downing the last of her daiquiri.
Lance drained his beer glass and set it on the pool table as though it was just a coffee table or something. “Do you want to go back to my place?” he repeated, louder.
“Oh,” she said back, louder as well. “Sure!”
Allie felt as though her head was filled with air and her neck was a string. A balloon. She felt like a balloon. She kept forgetting what was going on, and then remembering, and then forgetting again as Lance took her outside and somehow managed to get her situated on his motorcycle.
Everything started off surprisingly okay, she thought. Lance revved up the engine and they took off down the street. They passed The Blind Onion. They passed a lot of buildings. They were going very fast. She didn’t know where she was going because she was drunk and not from there, but it all must have been okay because Lance was a motorcycle rider in a motorcycle club. He had to know what he was doing.
About three streets away from The Blind Onion, Lance drove his motorcycle into a telephone pole.
That wasn’t how this was supposed to work, Allie thought as she fell off the motorcycle and landed on the cold, hard concrete.
The good thing was that she was wearing his helmet. The bad thing was that that meant he wasn’t wearing his helmet. But Lance was soon standing and rushing to her, so that was a good sign that he was okay.
She was lying in the deserted street in her little pink skirt. Her black tights had a hole in them now. Her knee was skinned and bleeding. But she was okay.
“Oh my god, Allie, I’m so sorry!” Lance kept saying. He was clearly panicking.
Allie slowly got back to her feet. Bloody knee aside, she felt fine. Dizzy and shocked back into sobriety, but otherwise fine.
“What the fuck, Lance?!” she said in lieu of letting him know she was fine.
He continued to look her over, fretting over whether or not she was hurt. She finally had to laugh a little. “I’m okay, Lance. Just… What happened? How did that happen?”
Lance appeared defeated. He looked down at the concrete, embarrassed. “I got distracted by something for a second, I guess… The next thing I knew, we were on the ground. I’m so glad you’re okay. I promise you, Allie, this never happens.”
She smiled at him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Well, you can’t say that anymore, because it clearly does happen… Is your bike okay enough to get us home?”
He nodded and helped her back onto it. The motorcycle was hefty and made of sturdy metal. If it had any damage to it, she couldn’t see it right now, though it was dark outside.
As he drove her along the rest of the way to his apartment, she wonde
red if what Lance had said about her car being safe was true, or if that was something she should be dubious about as well…
“Here we are,” he said, parking his motorcycle at the end of a long driveway. He lived in a fairly squat apartment building. Allie couldn’t help wondering how much the apartments cost, considering there were only five in each building that made up the complex.
She took a deep breath. Stop judging your one-night-stand, she told herself. After tonight, none of this is going to matter.
CHAPTER THREE
Your Psycho, Vertigo Shtick
Lance held the door open for Allie and she went inside, telling herself to be cautious but not too cautious. After all, she had wanted this. She had asked for a night like this, so why was she feeling so nervous now?
“So how did you get into the whole motorcycle club business?” she asked him as he led her into the kitchen and sat her down at his table.
He opened the freezer and got out the ice tray. Wrapping three cubes into a paper towel, he placed it onto Allie’s knee. He did so without even asking if she needed it.
She hissed a little, but it felt good to have the pain numbed off of her. Her hands still shook a bit from the adrenaline rush and the shock from the fall. “Thanks,” she said.”
“It’s not exactly a business,” he said with a smirk. “But I joined because my friends were there. I guess it was a bizarre kind of peer pressure.”
“Mm,” she said. “But do you regret it?”
“Not at all.”
Once her hand was holding the ice pack, he let go and moved to sit beside her. However, it wasn’t long before he was leaning back towards her. Their lips met and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, gliding it around and finding hers.
She hadn’t been anticipating a kiss like this, but now that they were here she was not complaining either. Allie kissed Lance back and brought the hand that wasn’t holding onto the ice up to his cheek, stroking his face with gentle fingertips.
Before long, the makeshift ice pack was forgotten. He lifted her up into his arms and carried her over to his couch. As soon as he’d laid her down, she shimmied out of her skirt and tights. He removed his pants and shirt and leaned over her, continuing to kiss her deeply and sensuously.
Gripping the bottom of her t-shirt, he lifted it up over her head and sent it floating to the floor. Her bra soon followed, and then he latched his mouth onto her right breast, sucking and biting.
Allie let out a little hiss. She grabbed the top of his boxers and yanked them down. After a dizzying few moments, they were there, naked. Two strangers, making out on a couch.
She did her best not to think of it that way. He was sexy and hot as hell, and she didn’t have anything to lose with him. She wouldn’t be losing money or her heart, and certainly not her virginity… So she gave in to the kisses and sucked in a breath as he spread her legs apart and went between them, thrusting his big, thick, exotic cock into her.
“Ohh,” she moaned into his ear. The couch was small enough that they really had to cuddle up in order to stay on it. And what better way to cuddle than while fucking?
Lance lifted one of her legs up to his shoulder and held it there, pinning her other leg down beside him. He started thrusting quickly, somehow getting his full length inside of her little, tight pussy.
Her cheeks went hot as she felt his cock against her g-spot. Allie bit her lip and erupted into shouts as she came. “Lance!” she bellowed. “Yeah! Yes!”
Smirking at her, he pulled out and lightly smacked the side of her ass. “Turn around,” he said.
Allie was a bit confused, but curiosity won out and she did as she was told, turning over and standing on her knees and arms as Lance plowed into her from behind. He reached out and grabbed her boobs, squeezing and rubbing at her nipples. “Oh, yeah, do you like that?” he asked her.
She did. She hadn’t had sex ‘doggie style’ in quite a while. Her good boy ex-boyfriend never did things like that unless she begged him too. “Mmhmm, yeah,” she moaned back at Lance. “Faster!”
He thrust himself inside her and she gyrated backwards into him, swiveling her hips in time with him. Before too long, he was frantic in his movements. He pulled out of her again and, grabbing her, flipped her over again and resumed fucking her from on top.
Howling, Allie lifted her legs and he bit her left calf. If her knee still hurt, she wasn’t feeling it at all. Her back bucked away from the couch cushion as she came again. Lance threw his head back and yelled. “Yeah, come for me, Allie!! Yeah! YEAHHH!”
She felt him come inside her, his cock throbbing against her pulsating walls. He lay there on top of her for a few moments, waiting for their hearts to stop beating so quickly. Then, he pulled out of her and stood up on the floor.
Eye-to-eye with the one eye of his penis, Allie gave it a kiss. She didn’t know why, it just felt like it needed to be done. She smirked up at him.
“That was wild,” she said. “You’re forgiven for the concrete tattoo on my knee.”
He laughed. “Do you need more ice?”
She shook her head. “I need a shower… Can I use your bathroom? Does it have a shower?”
Nodding, Lance gestured down a hallway off the kitchenette and living room. “It’s not much, but it has hot water, so whatever.” He shrugged.
Allie got up and went to the bathroom, doing her best to walk in an alluring fashion so he’d keep thinking about her body. He smiled at her and went into the kitchen to get himself a glass of vodka and lime.
Now that they were here, Allie didn’t know what to do next. Did she leave by climbing down the fire escape? Did she leave while he was sleeping? She’d never done this sort of thing before, but she was pretty sure that ‘one night stand’ meant that she needed to be gone by morning.
Being a bad girl had been so much easier when she had cocaine to satiate her nerves and allow her to be more loose and crazy. Now she felt the neurotic kind of crazy.
When Allie came out of the shower, wrapped in one of Lance’s fluffy, black towels, she found him sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, waiting for her. The coffee smelled like bananas. He smiled when he saw her. “Hello again. How was your shower?”
Even though he had seen her naked only a few minutes ago, she felt shy about him seeing her in this state of undress. “It was nice…” She felt like planning her escape wasn’t going to work if he was still awake and looking at her like a friendly host. Perhaps she should have vocalized that she’d wanted a hook-up and nothing else. But, then again, he did buy her drinks and food at the bar. She didn’t want to be a bitch about it.
“Your coffee smells like bananas,” she added awkwardly.
Grinning proudly, Lance held out his cup towards her. “Would you like some?”
She came over and took the mug from him. She sniffed it. It smelled like bananas and chocolate.
“Taste it and see. If you want some, I’ll pour you a whole cup.”
Allie took a sip of the great-but-unusual-smelling coffee. “Wow,” she said. “Okay, yes please.”
If they drank coffee, there was a high probability that they would stay awake even longer, thus moving her quick escape to later tomorrow morning. Allie sighed. As long as she didn’t have to see him again, she supposed that she didn’t mind his attention. This Lance guy had turned out to be sweeter than expected.
Smirking, he lit a cigarette and went over to his coffee maker to pour her a cup. “So, what’s your story?” he asked her, carrying over the filled cup and exchanging it with the half-drunk one in her hand. “Are you from Portland?”
Allie nodded, taking a good long sip of her coffee. She was going to have to look this flavor up when she got home. “Born and raised. I’m even a frequent shopper at Powell’s Books.”
Lance laughed. “Wow. I have no idea what that is.”
“What about you?” she asked him, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table again even though she was still just in a towel. Her wet hair w
as dripping onto her, into the mug and onto the tabletop. She needed to dry before clothes were necessary again.
He didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m from here,” he said. “I’ve spent most of my life explaining, ‘No, not the Canadian one’ to people. It used to be frustrating, but now it’s mostly funny.”
He coughed suddenly and spat into the sink.
“You know, you should probably stop smoking,” Allie said. “Speaking of things you hear all the time.”
Lance ran his fingers through his hair, his cigarette now at odds with his coffee cup. “I know,” he said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth with one hand and sipping more coffee with the other. Once that action was successfully executed, he placed the death stick back between his lips and puffed a big cloud of smoke.
“I started smoking later in life, if you can believe that,” he said. “I went from being addicted to heroin and cocaine to being addicted to nicotine. Fffftt. But I guess we’re all addicted to something.”
Allie understood that. Oh boy, did she understand that. And she did not need an addict in her post-addiction life.
She finished her coffee much faster than she really wanted to and set the mug down on the table. “Yeah,” she said. “…I should probably get going.” The clock on the wall told her that it was three in the morning. She wondered if that was correct or if he hadn’t changed the batteries.
Lance shook his head. “No, don’t leave so late. It’s dangerous. Here, why don’t you sleep on my couch bed and I’ll make do in a chair?”
Sighing, she looked at the clock again. He did have a point. It was only going to get later… And she had an hour’s drive she’d need to take in order to get home. She supposed the original, unconscious plan she’d had was to stay the night with him. But that was before she’d discovered the past drug addictions.
At least it was in the past.
“Okay,” she said with a little nod, resigned to this new plan. She got out of her chair and went back over to the couch bed, to gather up her clothing and sit somewhat away from him under the guise of doing that.
As she slowly put her clothes back on, Lance watched her. She was a pretty little thing.
