by Meg Jackson
The bartender doled out one beer apiece and we moved to the back of the bar, taking a table that was already occupied by two younger guys, probably in their late twenties.
“We got any grass to spare?” Boon said, not even introducing us or his friends. The two guys looked Alicia, Becky, and I over slowly, taking their time with each one of us, their feelings about us not concealed at all. They were impressed. And maybe a little hopeful. Dream on, boys, I thought, sipping my beer. Becky was never going to give anything to someone who wouldn’t call her his girlfriend, and Alicia might be a boy-loving party-girl but she wasn’t exactly a slut, either. And me, well, I already knew who I was planning on ending the night with.
“For you? Sure. Always, my man,” one of the boys said, leaning back and pulling a baggie full of odorous green stuff from his back pocket. He threw it on the table, not a care in the world about the fact that marijuana is, in fact, still very illegal in the state of Nevada. Boon picked up the baggie and held it to his nose, breathing deeply.
“Ah, shit, this is that Bubblegum stuff, isn’t it? That we got from the Rattlesnakes? This is perfect. Anyone got papers?” Boon looked at the three of us and winked, that smile still lighting up his face. I felt woozy, and it wasn’t from the beer or the weird environment.
The guy who had thrown the weed on the table pulled a package of rolling papers out of the other pocket and tossed them to Boon, who began to pick at the marijuana.
“So, you girls indulge often?” He asked, his attention fairly focused on the joint he was rolling.
“Never, actually. This is just for Alicia here. It’s her goal for the trip,” I said, leaning forward and admiring Boon’s nimble fingers and the flick of his tongue over the paper.
“Oh? And what are your goals, ladies?” Asked the other boy at the table, the one who hadn’t spoken yet. His eyes glimmered like he was expecting something crazy to come out of our mouths. Something like “have a six-person orgy in the backroom of a biker bar,” I’d assume.
“I just wanted to gamble. And I did. I lost twenty bucks,” Becky said, finally relaxing as she sipped her beer and leaned back into the seat.
“And you, Samantha?” Boon asked, finally meeting my eyes as he finished up with the joint. I blushed, my heart racing, as I tried to decide whether or not to lie. I decided that this trip was about growth. Old Samantha would be embarrassed and lie. New Samantha was better than that.
“Make out with a stranger,” I said, as boldly as I could manage.
A wicked grin passed over Boon’s face. He held the joint out to Alicia, his eyes not moving from my own. “Ladies first,” he said, brandishing a lighter as Alicia held the joint to her lips.
“Right here in the bar?” Becky asked, mouth open in a comical look of shock.
“Trust me, honey, don’t no one here give a damn,” said one of the other boys. I noticed they were both looking at me with a similar look to the one Boon was giving me, and it made me blush even harder.
Alicia took a deep inhale and immediately began coughing and gagging; Becky pounded on her back while the boys laughed and several other men at the bar turned to our table.
“Try again, little sister, and this time hold it in,” Boon said. There was something in his voice that was so patient and kind that it really contrasted his bad-boy appearance. I felt my heart melting just a little more.
Alicia sucked in again, this time holding in the smoke, then exhaled loudly, a plume of fragrant smoke rising over the table. The three boys applauded, joined by some other patrons who were watching, and Alicia beamed, handing the joint back to Boon. He sucked in deeply before passing to the boy who had provided the weed. The joint made its way around the table and Alicia hit it once more, her eyes glassy. She was giggling pretty much non-stop, and the boys were looking at her in amusement.
“So, what do you think?” Boon said at last, taking a deep inhale of his own.
“I like it. I feel goofy. Everything is slowed down. You guys should try it,” Alicia said, her words coming out slurry but clear, turning to us with a huge grin on her face. Becky rolled her eyes and looked at me; I just shrugged.
“Well, I’ll pass, thanks. Someone here needs to stay in control,” she said, taking another sip of her beer.
“Samantha?” Boon said, holding the joint out to me. I thought of my father, the sheriff, and what he would think of me at that moment. Dad was actually fairly liberal, and wasn’t really against marijuana, it was just his job to enforce the law. Still, I thought that he wouldn’t be too happy about me trying it; then again, he probably wouldn’t be terribly disappointed, either. Making a split decision, I nodded my head.
Boon smiled and handed me the joint; I looked at it somewhat nervously, more afraid of looking stupid trying to smoke it than I did about what would actually happen if I did. I held it to my lips and inhaled deeply; the thick, smelly smoke hit my lungs like a baseball bat and I coughed, feeling like I was going to throw up.
I shook my head, still coughing, but was determined to give it another go, if only to make up for my rather pathetic first attempt. Holding the burning joint to my lips again, I took a deep inhale, this time pushing away the desire to cough. Across the table, Boon’s gaze was open and friendly, and I watched as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, coolly slipping one into his mouth.
Slip me into your mouth, I thought, seemingly out of nowhere, as I watched him. I blindly handed the joint to the boy sitting next to me, exhaling slowly. The smell was actually kind of pleasant, and I looked around with glazed-over eyes, seeing everything as if for the first time.
The noise in the bar seemed dulled. The music coming from the jukebox suddenly seemed impossibly beautiful. I wasn’t scared. I felt warm, and giddy, and excited, and deep. It was like I was thinking from another part of my brain, one I’d somehow never even known was there. Everything seemed more real and more ridiculous at the same time, and I had trouble focusing on anything, including the conversation happening around me.
Alicia and I looked at each other and giggled. Boon was talking to the two other boys. Becky was just staring at us like we were from another planet. Suddenly, I felt a jolt of fear out of nowhere as a man came up to the table, standing behind Boon. Boon turned and looked up at the man; he was much bigger, bulkier, and hairier than Boon, but had some of Boon’s good looks. Same blonde hair, same blue eyes, same slanted nose.
“Who are your new friends?” the man said, directing the question to Boon. Boon seemed a little on edge around this man, but he introduced us each in turn. I knew I had a stupid smile on my face, but couldn’t seem to get rid of it for anything. Even when I rose to shake the man’s hand and felt myself withering under his cold stare, I couldn’t wipe that dumb smile off my face.
“Pleasure,” the man said before turning back to Boon. “Can I talk to you for a minute, son? In private?”
Boon got up, clearly agitated, and retreated to a dark corner of the bar with the older man, who I took to be his father. The two boys at the table exchanged knowing looks.
“Who’s that?” Becky asked.
“Tank. His dad, our leader,” one of the boys said, raising his beer to his lips and taking a deep swig. “Could be trouble.”
Leader? I thought to myself dazedly, looking around the bar. Oh. It’s a club, I thought, finding myself surprised that I hadn’t realized that earlier. Now that I was looking around, I saw all the men had similar tattoos and patches on their vests and jackets: the patches read “Cold Steel MC” and featured an image of a skull with glowing blue eyes. Cool, I thought. This was obviously a result of the weed and alcohol: sober Samantha, with her law-enforcement Daddy, knew enough about motorcycle clubs to know they were no sort of good.
“What kind of trouble?” Alicia asked, leaning forward, intrigued. I was intrigued, too. Everything seemed really, really intriguing. Especially the way the light hit the bar at that angle…
I nearly missed the conversation while I was dazedly
admiring the light. When I shook my head, returning to reality, I had missed the beginning of whatever the boy was saying.
“…little pleasure trip. But not for Boon. He’s got some beef with his pop. To be honest, he’s got beef with everyone. Not, you know, in a bad way. We love him. He’s just…different. Tank’s probably pissed he brought you around,” he said.
“Why? What’s wrong with us?” I asked, my mouth struggling to form words. I drank my beer quickly, suddenly realizing how thirsty I was. The two boys grinned at each other.
“Nothing. You just ain’t our type of girls,” one said, with a chuckle.
“Any of you been on a bike before?” the other said, a knowing look in his eyes. I didn’t like that look; it was demeaning.
“Actually, yes. We all have. You ever heard of Beartooth Rally? We all went last year,” I said, lying through my teeth. It was surprisingly easy to lie in my current state. It also wasn’t that big a lie; we had all ridden motorcycles before. There’s not much to do in Montana, and taking a quick ride on the back of your Dad’s bike, or uncle’s bike, or boyfriend’s bike, or friend’s boyfriend’s bike, was a popular way to spend an afternoon.
Alicia and Becky looked at me wide-eyed, and I prayed they’d go along with the lie. In true best friend fashion, they did.
“Yeah, I love bikes,” Alicia said, grinning ear to ear at me.
“No big deal,” Becky added, doing her part. Boon came up to the table just at that moment and took his seat back, a dour look on his face.
“Get reamed?” one of the boys asked with a genuine look of concern.
“Nah. Just got some info on that job in Cody,” Boon said, shaking his head.
“You’re not about that, are you? Gotta say, some of us aren’t, either,” said the other boy. The three guys were having their own conversation, ignoring us entirely, and I was getting really curious. Worried that my current state would lead me to pry, I busied myself with drinking my beer. Boon lit another cigarette.
“Yeah, well, some of us ain’t all of us, and if Tank says we do it, we do it,” he said, as though he were reciting lines from a play. He turned back to us, attempting to smile. It was something of a failure; the concern stayed etched in his face.
“So, ladies, where to next? You don’t wanna stick around here with these assholes all night, do you?”
“Actually, I hate to be ‘that girl’, but I’m really getting awfully tired,” Becky said. I could tell she was being honest, and that she felt bad about being a buzz-kill. To be honest, I was getting tired, too. The pot had gone straight to my head and, in conjunction with the more-than-usual amount of alcohol I’d had, I was finding myself getting pretty sleepy.
“Me too,” Alicia slurred, her eyes half-lidded already. Boon nodded, not looking disappointed but also not looking happy. I looked at my phone. It was 2am. I was amazed; how had time slipped by so fast? It was definitely time to get going.
“Okay, girls, a cab?” I said, thinking that none of us would be able to find our way back to the hotel, and that if I had to walk a whole block in my heels I’d probably wind up sleeping on the street.
“I’ll call you one,” Boon said, pulling out his phone. After a brief conversation, he hung up. “Fifteen minutes.”
“Just enough time to pee,” I said, giggling at the way the word “pee” sounded. It sounded very, very funny to me. I got up, wobbling slightly, and looked around for the restroom. Boon pointed behind him, and I saw a narrow corridor with a unisex bathroom sign. It was tucked away in a dark corner, and I would never have found it on my own.
I smiled at him and made my way towards the bathroom, feeling lightheaded and giddy. I nearly fell over trying to pull down my panties and sit down, but I managed to pee and wipe without any disaster befalling me. As I washed my hands, I looked into the caked-over, cracked mirror. I looked exactly like I felt: a little tired, a little overwhelmed, a little lust-struck. My make-up was smudged in a way that I thought looked a lot like a Covergirl ad. I look hot, I thought to myself, in surprise.
I never really thought of myself as being hot or sexy, mostly because I never really knew what it was like to want to look hot or sexy. Because I’d never felt compelled to be sexy for someone, I just never let it into my radar. But that night, I felt sexy as hell. I closed my eyes and thought about Boon; a moment of panic took me over as I realized that this might be the last time I ever saw him, and that we wouldn’t have a private moment for me to fulfill my goal.
That’s when I heard the knocking on the door. Annoyed at first that someone would interrupt my private moment, I just sighed and turned off the taps, shaking my hands dry. I opened the door, ready to slip past whoever was on the other side, but found myself propelled backwards into the bathroom. The door slammed shut. Boon was standing in front of me, his eyes now dark and knowing. I felt my heart beating hard in my chest, my breathing shallow.
“Hi,” he said, that wicked grin back on his face.
“Hi,” I said, blushing and suddenly shy. I didn’t have time to ponder the situation, though. Before I could blink, I was pinned against the cold tile, Boon’s lips on mine. His lips were firm but soft, pressing against mine urgently, and I opened my mouth for him, allowing his tongue to slip between my lips. His tongue probed my mouth, dancing with my own as my head detached from my shoulders and drifted off into space.
The kiss was hot, and I felt myself grabbing Boon by the waist, pulling him towards me. I could feel his hot breath in my mouth and wanted more, wanted his breath in my lungs, wanted his tongue down my throat, his hands all over my body.
Even in my intoxicated stupor, I could feel my nerves coming alive as his mouth slipped off mine and down to my chin, tracing wet, hard kisses along my jawline and then down my neck. I moaned underneath him, my hands desperately digging into his waist. His hands found my waist, too, and I shivered as I felt him clutch my hips, pulling me towards him.
I could feel his hardness through his tight jeans, and was amazed as my legs parted for him, allowing him to grind me into the wall. His member pressed against my panties, and I felt a thrill down there as my virgin pussy got wet for the first time. I didn’t even really know it was happening: all I knew was that Boon was making all the hair on my body stand on end as he nibbled my earlobes.
Just as suddenly as it began, it was over. Boon pulled away, leaving me panting against the bathroom wall. He grinned at me, that grin that would be my undoing. Then, he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.
I lingered in the bathroom, catching my breath. What had just happened? How had I gone from never having a kiss that meant anything to wanting to strip down and fuck a perfect stranger in the bathroom of a biker bar? I didn’t care; in that moment, I didn’t care about a damn thing. I just wanted more.
To their undying credit, Becky and Alicia were fairly civil about what had so obviously transpired until we were in the cab and the bar was far behind us. After that, though, it was all-out girl talk.
“How was it?”
“Was it AMAZING?”
“Oh my God, he is SO HOT!”
“See, boys really ARE fun!”
“Tell us everything, you whore!”
Becky and Alicia’s excited shrills mixed together in an incoherent mess as I stared out the window, watching the bright lights grow nearer as we got closer to the main strip. I wanted to tell them how it was, but I didn’t know how. Also, I didn’t know how to tell them what I really wanted now that I’d had a taste.
“It was…I mean, guys…it was life-changing,” I finally said, looking over at my friends. Alicia was still glassy-eyed, her head lolling back on the seat, but Becky was fairly together and she must have seen something in my eyes that gave her cause for concern.
“Life-changing? Okay, I’m sure it was hot, girl, but life-changing? That’s a little much, isn’t it?”
“Um, well, I don’t know, Beck. I’ve never felt so…hot! Like, I never got it…until tonight…damn,” I said, losing
myself in the warm memory of Boon’s kiss.
“Well, I’m glad you got it out of your system,” Becky said, her tone sharp. The thing about best friends is that they always know what you’re thinking, sometimes even before you do. And Becky knew that I was thinking about more than just kissing Boon. I was thinking about doing a lot more with him.
“Did you get his number?” Alicia asked, rolling her head to face me. I suddenly realized that I hadn’t: despair gripped me as I realized that without a number, or even a last name, I would probably never see Boon again. I groaned and slunk down in my seat.
“Oh, it’s for the better, Samantha. He was fun for a make-out, but that guy was no good. You saw his friends, where he took us. You would really regret it if you…uh…let yourself get carried away with a boy like that,” Becky said, always the voice of (irritating) reason. I felt annoyance flash through me, but it was quickly replaced by more disappointment.
On the one hand, I knew Becky was right. On the other hand, I knew she was dead wrong. I wouldn’t regret it. I would love every moment of it. Even if I never saw him after…sure, that would probably hurt, but at least I’d have it out of my system. This throbbing, raw desire would be gone – or at least lessened.
I couldn’t believe I was actually thinking about giving up my virginity to someone I just met, but that’s how crazy that kiss left me feeling. It was like Sleeping Beauty being woken up by her Prince Charming. Except my Prince Charming was covered in tattoos and bad news.
The cab pulled up to the hotel and we piled out, three messes on a late night in Vegas. We were mostly silent as we rode up to the room and took to our separate beds; we were all exhausted, drunk, and two of us were stoned. I expected to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, but no luck.
I tossed and turned for what felt like hours (but was probably, in retrospect, about thirty minutes). I couldn’t stop thinking about the ache I felt down there, the unfulfilled need that seemed to fill my body like water fills a vase.
