The Outlaws - Part Two

by Palomino, Honey

  Walking into my shop, I couldn't help but stare across the street to the motorcycle shop. It was early, and everything was very quiet over there. As I turned on the lights and the radio, my usual routine, I looked around at the changes I had made the last time I was here. I hadn't been in since I followed Jackson home, and to be honest, I hadn't given the shop much thought at all. Sure, I had moved some furniture around and done some extra cleaning, but it was still pretty boring. What I needed was a sale or a brand or some sort of marketing ploy to lure customers in.

  Maybe I could give out coupons for a shave, a cut and a beard with a free blow job to Jackson and his crew? I giggled at my silly thought, even as I felt the wetness seeping out of me. I had neglected to put on underwear, a secret reminder to myself to embrace my sexiness.

  I knew I should do something soon to drum up business, but it was honestly the last thing I could focus on. Throughout the day, I kept finding myself standing in front of the window, staring yearningly across the street for any sign of Jackson. He didn't show up until well after two in the afternoon, and I jumped up anxiously from my chair as I heard his motorcycle roar down the street. Before I knew what I was doing, I had flung myself out the front door and began frantically waving at him.

  Frantically waving like a damned lunatic, that is.

  He drove past me as if he didn't even seen me, completely oblivious to my presence, leaving me standing on the sidewalk with my hand in the air and a stupid grin plastered across my face. I dropped my hand and ran back inside, nearly tripping over the threshold in my ridiculous stilettos.

  Way to be cool, Dixie.

  I watched from the window, hoping to see what he might be up to, or if he might look my way, but he had driven all the way into the back of the shop and completely out of my view. I'd like to say I only watched for a few minutes, but the honest truth is that I sat in the waiting area right in front of the window for the rest of the afternoon, absentmindedly thumbing through a gossip magazine and looking up every few minutes for any glimpse of his tight ass. I was hoping to at least see him walk across the parking lot – anything! - just another peek of him. But it didn't happen.

  When closing time rolled around, again without one customer all day, I lingered a little longer than I normally would to turn everything off. When I finally made it out to my car, I was still hoping there would be some sort of action across the street. It had been so quiet all day, one of the quietest I had observed in my many days of watching them. I drove away disappointed, and tried to soothe my broken spirit with the promise that something might happen tomorrow.

  In the meantime, I wasn't about to let this dress go to waste and I needed a drink! As I pulled into the parking lot of my favorite bar, I spotted the red mustang I had followed last week. I smiled when I remembered how excited I had become at watching the tall, confident owner of this gorgeous car impale a petite blonde beauty on his cock against a tree in the park, only to go home to his happy gay lover. What a treat that had been to witness.

  As usual, I was overwhelmed by the smell of peanuts and stale beer as I walked in and seated myself at the bar. I ordered a whiskey on the rocks from Johnny, the friendly bartender that had worked here for as long as I had been coming in. I spotted the couple from the mustang seated in a booth in the corner, their heads bowed in serious conversation.

  “What's the special occasion, Dixie? That dress, that hair! You look incredible!” Johnny said, setting the glass in front of me.

  “Oh, no special occasion, Johnny. I just felt like dressing up a little today, that's all.”

  “I see. Well, it looks great!”

  “Thank you very much!” I replied, smiling and sitting up a little taller. At least one person had complimented me. And that was enough, I tried to convince myself. Jackson's lust-filled eyes invaded my brain again and I did my best to push it away. I had to give him time, give him time to miss me, and then maybe I would have a chance. But I had to play it cool at first. No more running out of my shop waving like a mad woman at the first sight of him. My cheeks flushed when I realized what a fool I must have looked like.

  I sighed, sipping my whiskey and enjoying the country music pouring out of the jukebox. Johnny was the perfect bartender. He always remembered what you ordered, exchanged a little polite banter, and then left you alone with your thoughts. And that was exactly what I needed.

  My peacefulness didn't last long, though. In fact, it crashed and burned.

  After I ordered my second drink from Johnny, the door burst open and the bar filled with loud, raucous laughter and the smell of leather. I looked over my shoulder and gasped when I saw several members of The Outlaws stroll through the door and walk up to the bar.

  Bear, Chief, Danger, and Spider all stood at the end of the bar, and for once, they were all smiling. Well, all but Chief, he never seemed to smile, but he wasn't grimacing like he usually did. They looked relaxed, actually.

  I had never seen them here before, but obviously it wasn't the first time they had been there, because they called Johnny by name, and he was extra-friendly and attentive to them. I tried to be subtle as I watched them, using the mirror behind the bar to discretely watch them as they settled into a booth directly behind me. When I realized I was watching them through a mirror, I smiled to myself, remembering the mirror above Jackson's bed.

  I crossed my legs, feeling the slickness between them, as the memory of his perfect dancing ass once more invaded my present moment. Thoughts of him were so distracting.

  The front door opened again and I turned to see Trigger walk in. I almost fell on the floor and my whiskey fell from my hand as I tried to catch myself. Johnny rushed over with a towel to help me as I felt my heart begin to pound in my chest. I reached up, pulling my long, straight fake hair around my face, doing my best to shrink away and hide.

  “You okay, Dixie?” Johnny asked, looking at me with concern.

  “Y-yes, sorry about that. Sorry.”

  “That's okay, darlin'. Don't worry, I'll get you another one.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured quietly, trying to make myself completely invisible. For someone who wanted everyone to notice her, I suddenly wanted the exact opposite.

  I watched in the mirror as Trigger walked over to the others. He didn't sit down and after exchanging a few words with him, he walked over to the bar and stood right beside me, waiting for Johnny to serve him.

  “Here you go, Dixie.” Johnny said, and I winced as he said my name. Part of me was hoping to not be noticed, but there was no chance of that now.

  “Dixie?” Trigger looked over at me, his gaze traveling over me, taking in my wig, dress and heels with a cocked eyebrow.

  “H-h-hi Trigger.” I said nervously, trying to smile at him confidently, but I'm sure it looked like I was about to puke all over him. I suddenly felt so awkward and not in the least bit confident.

  “Well, you certainly look different than you did the other night.”

  “Um.” I was having a very hard time looking at him, and I had no idea what to say to him. I had been having continuous thoughts about Jackson, but I hadn't thought about Trigger hardly at all, and I had no idea how I should act around him now.

  “Um?” He asked, silently goading me, a playful smile spreading across his lips. “Is that all you have to say?”

  He leaned into me, his mouth mere inches from my ear as he whispered to me.

  “After the other night, I thought you might have a few more words than that.”

  “Well....um. I...um....um.” Nothing. I knew I looked like a complete fool, but my mouth wasn't working, let alone my brain.

  His abrupt laughter filled the room, it was so loud it caught the attention of the other leather-clad men in the room and they stared over at us curiously. I tried not to sink into my chair.

  “Okay, I understand. I'm not Jackson, I get it.” He said, starting to turn away, but hesitated before adding one last thing. “But I hope you aren't still entertaining any thoughts of snagging
Jackson, because I can guarantee you that no woman has been able to do that yet, and I don't see it happening any time soon, Dixie. Even by someone as...” he let his eyes travel down to my breasts before finishing his sentence, “...alluring as you.”

  As he sauntered away, I soaked in his words. At least he thought I was alluring, right? I smiled at the thought of that, and instead of discouraging me, his words wound their way into my consciousness as a challenge. Maybe no other women had 'snagged' Jackson, as he put it, because no other women were me. I saw the way Jackson had looked at me. I had seen the tenderness behind his tough facade. There was no denying he was attracted to me, whether I had been stalking him or not. His huge, throbbing cock did not lie. And the passion with which he had fucked me did not lie. I just needed to find a way to show him that I was worth taking a chance, despite the fact that he had first run across me passed out with my hand inside my panties outside of his window late at night.

  That shouldn't be too hard, right? Right.

  I ordered my third whiskey, which was probably a very bad idea, but I didn't want to leave just yet, considering I had a perfect view of what was going on behind me. As soon as Trigger had returned after our exchange, the other guys had questioned him about me. He whispered a few words and they all started laughing as he obviously told them the story about Jackson finding me. I didn't care. I wasn't embarrassed. I was proud of what happened, all of it, and there was nothing they could do to shame me.

  The whiskey had gone right through me, filling me with false courage and providing me with a very full bladder. I wobbled a little as I made my way to the bathroom, trying once again not to fall, and trying to remind myself why I ever thought wearing these shoes was a good idea. I couldn't wait to toss them in the back of the closet when I got home.

  I was washing my hands when the door of the ladies' room opened. My head was down, lost in my millions of thoughts as usual and I didn't look up right away. When I felt a hand grip my ass, I jumped and screamed. Turning around, I came face to face with Spider.

  His sinister smile surprised me, the smell of whiskey and cigarettes on his breath made me gag as I tried to move away from him, but he had me trapped between his hands on the sink.

  “Please move.”

  His laugh was evil, and after being this close to him for the first time, I realized there wasn't anything attractive about this guy at all. Looking into his dark, cold eyes, I felt the extreme urge to flee.

  “Why should I do that, Ms. Dixie? Trigger told us all about you. About how you like to watch people.” He reached his hand out, cupping my chin in his hand, turning my face up to his. He reached his other hand up, grabbing the front of my dress, leaving a dirty grease stain on it.

  “Please let me go.” I was shaking now and completely terrified.

  “Trigger told us how you fuck like an animal. How you took him and Jackson on at the same time. You're quite the little whore, aren't you?”

  “I'm no whore!” Now he had pissed me off. My anger rose from deep inside me, as I lifted my knee sharply, slamming into his groin hard. He doubled over, ripping my dress as he went, and then grabbing his balls and yelling as I ran out of the bathroom.

  “You fucking cunt!” His high-pitched insult echoed down the hallway after me as I stumbled past the bar, past the booth full of laughing MC members, and out of the front door of the bar as fast as my absurd 'fuck-me' heels could carry me. I was completely humiliated! Hot tears fell down my face, leaving black traces of mascara on my cheeks.

  I turned the corner to the parking lot, half-stumbling, half-running and half-blind. And boom! I ran smack into Jackson's leather covered chest as he rounded the corner. Just my stupid luck.

  “Whoa!” He exclaimed, grabbing my arms to keep me from falling over.

  I looked at him sheepishly, feeling like a complete fool.

  “Th-thanks....um...s-sorry for running into you like that.”

  “Dixie? Hey! Dixie, why are you crying? Fuck....” His eyes raked across my body. “Why are you dressed like that?! Are you fucking following me again? Is this supposed to be some sort of disguise? What the fuck?”

  “Oh, God.” I couldn't get much more out than that.

  “What the fuck did you do to your hair?” His anger was replaced by curiosity as he grabbed a lock in his fingers. “And why is your dress torn? What happened?”

  Shaking and angry, and still full of whiskey, I looked into his eyes with rage.

  “I'm...I'm.....I'm not a whore, dammit!” As soon as the words escaped, I regretted them. I really needed a leash for my mouth.

  “Huh?” He said, his handsome face covered in confusion. God, why did he have to be so fucking gorgeous? Why couldn't he be like a regular biker and be ugly – like Spider? Or fat and pudgy and old, like Chief? Why did he have to look like a goddamned movie star? What kind of biker smelled like him? How was I supposed to stay away from him when he smelled like an orgasm?

  “I know you aren't a whore, Dixie. You're a peeping Tom.” He laughed softly at his own joke, his eyes meeting mine playfully.

  A surge of energy spread through my body as I watched his eyes fluctuate between lust and concern and everything I had wanted to say to him finally escaped from my quivering lips.

  “I'm not a whore. Your friend Spider thinks I am. And Trigger, I guess. And all the others. But I'm not. I'm a writer. And for your information, I have never looked inside anyone's windows before. And I've never followed anyone over thirty miles before. And it was just for research. And I'm sorry that I invaded your privacy. But I'm not sorry it happened. Because...” I struggled to find the strength to finish, my voice cracked as I continued, “...of you. And how you made me feel. I know it probably didn't mean anything to you, I get that. I'm sure you spend the night with women all the time, and it's completely casual. And I have had casual sex, too. But it wasn't like that with you. Not for me, anyway. And I could have sworn you felt it, too. But it's okay. I get it, really. You're the big, dangerous guy who can't let anyone get close to him, and I'm the crazy peeping Tom bitch you found outside of your window. Of course, it could never be more. And I'm fine with that. Really. But, like I said, I'm not a whore.” I paused, holding his gaze. And then, I kissed him.

  Hot tears, smeared mascara, snotty nose and all! I didn't care. All my fears, all my worries, all my feelings of being intimidated by him faded away and I kissed him with all the pent up passion I had been holding back for years. And he kissed me back, his mouth melding to mine in a warm lushness of colliding tongues and lips. Melting into each other, our deep yearning for connection found a fleeting moment of satisfaction before the sound of laughter spilled out of the front door of the bar. His rude compadres had discovered us embracing passionately and began laughing at us uncontrollably. I jumped back and instinctively turned to run away. As soon as I reached the edge of the sidewalk, my heel caught in a crack and I went down with a very ungraceful thud. I slammed into the pavement face first and everything went black.

  ***

  “As soon as there is life there is danger.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

  I woke up with a start, Jackson's black sheets wrapped around me in his four poster bed, my black curls splayed out beside my bandaged head. It was pitch dark, and Jackson laid beside me, staring at me calmly.

  “Hey.” He smiled a lazy smile at me, and my insides melted. I must have died and gone to heaven! There was no way this happened twice in one lifetime, let alone one week! One minute I was bitching out the president of The Outlaws on a public sidewalk, and the next I'm in bed with his incredible half-naked, smiling-at-me-like-it-just-walked-out-of-Playgirl body? No fucking way. This was too good to be true, and it probably was.

  Who was I kidding? This was a dangerous man, who did dangerous things, and hung out with dangerous people, and I had just screamed at him like a fool, not to mention the fact I had kissed him like a total harlot. This would probably not end well at all.

  I looked around and noticed I wasn't tied u
p this time. He was lying next to me, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, his tattoos looking like shadows on his arms in the dark. His window was open, and the smell of pine trailed through the window.

  “How's your head?”

  How's my head? How's my head?! Certifiably crazy, that is how my head obviously was.

  “I'm so sorry, Jackson.” I mustered all the seriousness I could, knowing it was probably a good time to start pleading for my life. My stupid, idiotic life! What was I thinking? That was just it. I didn't think. When I was within five feet of this man, thinking was an impossible task.

  “You don't have to apologize. I should apologize, actually. Trigger shouldn't have told the other guys what happened between us, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for Spider's behavior, as well. Neither of those guys are much on manners. I'm sorry you had to go through that.”

  “Oh.” My head was swimming. Not just in pain from slamming it into concrete like a water balloon, but from trying to figure this man out. One minute he was white-hot, and the next he was hiding behind the vault of his cold eyes. I preferred white-hot, no matter how much it scared me.