Working Couple

by Laran Mithras

  The chaplain grunted. "Do drugs and you're out of the club. End of story. All the hyped shit in the media is what happens when one or two assholes start messing with dope. Then every citizen out there thinks we're all drug dealing mass-murderers."

  Wallet chuckled. "Fucking media."

  Both Gunner and Wallet jerked just as Sonar came out. They grabbed their cell phones, but Sonar told them anyway. "Church is called, tomorrow at six in the evening. Business about the pop-up."

  I checked my watch; it was about time for my shift to start.

  Kristy said, "Hey, how about you give me a ride to the Triple?"

  "Got your helmet?"

  "Yeah, in the truck."

  "Well, let's go." I liked giving her a ride. I patted Angela's knee.

  Outside, I affixed my helmet while Kristy ran to get hers. Miguel hopped on his XR1200X and rode off. My wife climbed on behind me, strapping on her helmet. "Ready," she said.

  I thumbed the starter and felt the familiar cough and staccato burst. We pulled away. I was twice as careful on the Harley as I was in the Suburban; I didn't fancy the idea of being in any wrecks for driving stupid. I looked everywhere, checked my mirrors, watched side streets. I wasn't worried about my own driving and riding, I was watching for the stupid guy. Seen too many t-bones and dead drivers who had the right of way but get crushed by someone drunk, on drugs, or texting and not paying attention. I wasn't going to be a victim.

  I dropped her off at the Triple and kissed her lips. "Stay safe in there."

  She gave me her pretty smile. "Ride safe yourself and don't get stabbed anymore."

  I grunted and pulled away. Keystone was a nice little town, nestled in the low foothills and up in the pines. National forest surrounded us. I breathed in the clean air and looked around at what I felt was becoming home.

  The deputy who had stopped Kristy and me on our way out of town after the Iron Crows released us drove by. We waved to each other. I almost lost focus on the road. But it wasn't the cop that had distracted me, it was the flashy Harley at the motel back at the intersection. I made a u-turn and went back, crossing the intersection and making another u-turn about where I had waved to the deputy. I pulled over to the curb and looked at Miguel's hot-rod Harley parked.

  What's he doing in a motel? Banging some broad he isn't supposed to? However, something else was disturbing me. I frowned. Then I saw it. He was parked next to a white four-door sedan. A Chevrolet and a very new model. Who buys a brand new four-door car in white? It looks like a fleet model.

  I needed to get to the Daily, so I rode off.

  Leathers and Sonar were there, chatting at the bar. Three other regulars were in, also. I waved to Celia, then went and stood outside. I felt edgy, as if expecting the gangbangers to pull up any minute with four hundred fellow gang members, but they didn't.

  However, I did hear them before they arrived; two Harleys. I waited to see if they were Iron Crows. They were not, but they didn't look like those pop-up guys, either.

  They pulled up and backed in. I was able to see their patches: Outlaws.

  I ducked inside. "Two Outlaws outside."

  Sonar didn't mind the interruption. He just nodded, but he and Leathers stopped talking and turned to the door and waited.

  The two bikers came in, one mean-looking graybeard and a very big and burly one with little gray in his goatee.

  Sonar greeted them. "I'm Steve Gillens, vice president of the Iron Crows."

  The graybeard Outlaw answered. "Tommy Carson, enforcer, Outlaws."

  They shook hands.

  Sonar said, "What brings you out here?"

  "You called about a pop-up."

  Sonar nodded. "Leathered up, three patches claiming Keystone. Goes by Sons of Aggression."

  The enforcer snorted. "Another wannabe Sons of Anarchy group, no doubt."

  "Their leader, Ace, said they didn't give a fuck what the Outlaws thought."

  The enforcer was quiet a moment, just nodding slightly. Then he said, "Our sanction of your club carries with it certain understandings..."

  Sonar waited.

  "We feed you certain information, you perform certain contracts."

  The vice president nodded in acknowledgment, still saying nothing.

  The enforcer tilted his head, peering at him. "The president of our chapter has decided to let you handle your own backyard. And that's that."

  I saw Sonar stiffen in surprise. But he was smooth. "I expected we would be and it's nothing we can't handle."

  The enforcer was quiet for a moment, eyeing Sonar and getting eyed in return. He was nodding very slightly. "Well then, beer time."

  I walked back outside as their business was concluded and they began to chat amiably about upcoming rides and events. I backed up against the outside wall and chewed over what I had seen. Other than the big guy escorting the enforcer Tommy, no one had looked at me.

  After the two had their beer and left, I went back inside. Sonar was on his phone.

  "...letting us deal with it... No, nothing... That's what I'm thinking, they knew about them all along... Yep... Very secretive, he was holding something back... Uh huh... Yep, yep... Exactly, if we can't deal with them, they must be worthy of sanction. Except it still stinks... I don't either... Right, tomorrow." He clicked off.

  Leathers finished off his beer. "Somethin' ain't right."

  "We'll be adding that into tomorrow's church." He turned away from the bar. "Keep tight."

  "You, too."

  Sonar glanced at me on the way out, but said nothing; his lips were in a firm line.

  CHAPTER 5

  Leathers left a little later. It was nine when I heard two motorcycles rumble up and stop. I was talking to a local about the differences between Keystone and the city.

  In came Ace and one of his men. Their leather jackets and pants all shiny and patches crisply new, they looked around and approached the bar. They ordered beers.

  I took out my phone and texted their arrival to the club and added they seemed peaceful.

  "You there." Ace was addressing me.

  I put my phone away and said, "Yeah?"

  "I saw you here last time."

  "I'm the bouncer."

  His face lightened and he almost smiled. "Yeah? Come on over here." He took a swig and set his beer down.

  I walked over and leaned against the bar.

  He said, "What do you know of the Iron Crows? They come in here a lot."

  Thoughts ran through my head. Maybe this guy doesn't know they own the bar. I shrugged. "They seem all right... Never cause any trouble inside."

  Eyes bright, he nodded as if considering.

  Personally, I thought it was all a show and he didn't care. I said, "They keep to themselves."

  "You ride?"

  I nodded. "2003 Sportster."

  "You should come by our clubhouse."

  No fucking way, ass-shine. "Sure, why not?"

  He was grinning, nodding, but the smile wasn't reaching his eyes. "We just started up. You'll find us in the green metal building at the airport."

  Keystone had a small strip with two commercial hopper flights out of it. We weren't big-time. I said, "Will do. My next day off is tomorrow - Wednesdays and Thursdays."

  He lifted his beer. "We'll see you there."

  ~ ~ ~

  I related what I knew to Sonar the next morning over eggs.

  He scowled at me, but listened. "Come to me, next time. Immediately."

  I ducked my head. "Understood."

  Dealer came in and grabbed his coffee. He touched my wife's shoulder. She looked up at him and to me. I gave a quick dip of my chin as a nod.

  I wanted to go with them, but the last time I did, I had suffered all day from serious dick-ache that no Tylenol could cure.

  Celia's husband, Ralph the attorney, came into the kitchen. He looked around at his first breakfast in the club.

  Grannie said over the counter, "You want your eggs scrambled or fried?"

&
nbsp; Ralph frowned judiciously. "Eggs Benedict with a side of—"

  Grannie cackled. "Eggs. Fried or scrambled."

  He looked seriously butt-hurt. "Scrambled. Could you put some chopped cilantro on it?"

  The gray woman gave him a look. "You want bacon? Or no?"

  Smoke was behind her, covering her mouth and smile.

  Ralph swallowed. He wriggled his fingers as if having touched maggots. "Bacon? Er, no."

  Grannie left no doubt as to what would be on his plate. "Scrambled eggs it is."

  The entirety of the cafeteria laughed in muted tones.

  Ralph gave up and sat down.

  Angela picked up her plate and moved over to my side where Kristy had been. I welcomed the move. I said, "So, how are ya?"

  In her small, strangled voice, she said, "Okay, I guess. I sure miss having a warm body to wake up to." She chewed on a single piece of bacon.

  I remembered my single days and compared them to now. "Yeah, it's nice."

  "Sometimes I fantasize about the men who pay me actually staying the entire night."

  "You'll find someone, I'm sure." It was a shitty thing to say, but the only thing I could think of at the very moment.

  She snorted. "Yeah, any day now a new Prince Charming will sweep in and pick me out of the crowd. The whore."

  "I bet you miss your husband."

  "Like you can't imagine. I used to have a four bedroom home and drove a Range Rover. I had it all. But the possessions meant nothing. When he died, all the shine went to shit. All of it gone within months. The world doesn't care when you lose your loved one, only you."

  "I'm sorry you had to suffer that."

  She leaned away from me to focus on my face. "Ain't life grand?"

  I pursed my lips and squeezed her knee under the table.

  Her smell was clean and very lightly perfumed. She said, "Sometimes I wish life could be different."

  ~ ~ ~

  I followed Angela to her room. She shut the door behind us. For just a moment, her eyes had an unfocused look, as if remembering doing much the same with her dead husband. She didn't look me in the eyes. "What can I do?"

  I didn't want to wilt the flower of her that I had seen over the past weeks. Something in her spoke of dignity that couldn't be marred by prostitution. Something yearned there to be recognized and I felt a bond between us that reminded me of Kristy. Loners with nowhere to turn. "Just touch me." I said it while I stroked her hair.

  She went to work with her hands, pulling at my manhood to coax from it the relief I sought. Her hands moved over my skin deftly.

  She ruined the moment by asking, "Do you want it on my face or boobs?"

  Were her clients so crass? I shook my head. "Neither."

  Something passed over her features I couldn't read. She grabbed up a washcloth and went back to tugging on me. Her hand felt good sliding on my skin and I got back into it pretty quickly. Whatever she had learned in her days of prostitution was good – her movements felt fantastic and insistent. She had learned the fastest most efficient way to make men cum. Her fingers worked around the head at its most sensitive spots. She stopped the head-play and stroked when I tensed, knowing just when to stop. She squeezed when I tensed from the stroking.

  She played my dick like an expert playing a quick fiddle piece. Something in her movements reminded me of Charlie Daniels playing fiddle in The Devil Went Down to Georgia.

  In a flash, she took my hard dick into her mouth. I tensed, almost standing on tiptoes, as she sucked hard on my shaft. Her warm tongue and wetness coated my need and massaged it with coaxing movements.

  I sighed loudly, groaning out as my shaft was given an extreme amount of needed pleasure. I floated high, wondering if I was going to be able to keep my balance. The balls of my feet began to develop a tickle. I breathed harshly, arching my back.

  Her mouth came off and she began jacking me with beckoning moves. My cock swelled and I gasped as tendrils of thrill and tension shot up my legs. My balls squeezed and my cum erupted into the washcloth she held at the tip.

  She smiled up at me as she milked my need from me.

  ~ ~ ~

  I was out in the common room and it was nearing two in the afternoon. I was shooting the breeze with Donna, one of the other hang-arounds like me. "Fixing computers is satisfying, but only for myself."

  "I was a veterinarian assistant. I just couldn't handle being told to put animals down. I thought I could do it, but I just couldn't."

  I chuckled. "I think if I had recommended some of my clients put down their computers, they might have cheered."

  She looked hurt. "Animals aren't machines."

  I shook my head. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean it that way."

  Kristy came over and sat on my left. "Are you hurting people's feelings again?"

  I coughed, "Do I do that?"

  Before she could answer, Sonar came up to us. "Walk with me, Jimmy."

  I got up immediately. You did not blow off the president or vice president or any officer of the club. The others forgotten, I followed him out to the gated yard.

  The yard Rottweiler, Jonesy, came up and growled at me.

  Sonar said to the big, threatening dog, "He's okay, Jonesy."

  The dog lowered its head slightly, sniffing.

  Sonar spoke to me as if nothing had passed between him and the dog. "You have an invite to their clubhouse."

  I knew he meant the Sons of Aggression. "Yes."

  His two words conveyed a whole shitload of secrecy that I couldn't fathom. "Take it."

  The problem was, I didn't want to take it. I wanted to hang around the Iron Crows. What's this bullshit? "Am... Am I being kicked from—"

  Sonar scowled. "No. But you might provide a very valuable service. Names, times, schedules. Any of the like."

  I felt like I was being used like a condom; one squirt and then discarded. "Sure..."

  Sonar grabbed me and swung me towards him. "Do this for us." His black beard, his long black ponytail, and his watchful eyes drilled into me. I felt the weight - all of the expectations falling on me. When I wanted to be sitting and shooting the shit with Iron Crows, I was being shoved out and told I needed to be somewhere else.

  Fuck. I wasn't a member of the Iron Crows; I was just some expendable piece of shit-citizen to further the aims of the club. Gunner? The chaplain who had brought me to my knees and saved me? Dealer? The man who had raped my bride and continued to fuck her? Sonar? The quiet vice president who had accepted me just like he had accepted Ralph the attorney? All of them part of something that I wasn't. But they would use me.

  A part of me wanted to punch Sonar's face into the dirt, no matter what Jonesy might try to bite off. I gritted my teeth. "No problem."

  CHAPTER 6

  Kristy tried to extract from me my mission. The most I told her was that Angela had sucked my dick. I didn't do it to hurt her, but instead to divert her attention away from the mission. I didn't want to admit to her that the club was using me. The shame of being used was greater than allowing a prostitute to suck me for free.

  Kristy frowned, holding onto me for support in bed. "She...?"

  "I didn't want to go into his room and watch again."

  "I missed you."

  "Oh, come on."

  She was insistent. "No, really, I did."

  "Well, I didn't want to sit and watch and get no satisfaction."

  She gripped my arm. "I'm sorry."

  "No, don't worry. I'm happy. Just... I guess I needed something at the moment while you were doing it."

  She whispered to me, "Are we the same people? Are we still what we were before?"

  I hugged her tightly. "We are always us and I consider that a blessing."

  "Are you sure?"

  I could feel her squeeze on me as if checking the validity of my words. I said, "I love you, Kristy, and you know it."

  ~ ~ ~

  I glided along on my Harley, adoring the feeling of freedom. I knew who I was. I knew my place
. I felt my ownership of my bike and my command of it. I eased to a stop outside the green metal building at the outskirts of the municipal airport.

  Here I am - trying to understand. Lord, help me. When I pass by the shit on the street I resist and try to be like the man crucified for me. I thumbed the ignition and killed the motor. I heaved off the bike, removing my helmet. If anyone was looking, they couldn't see me hesitating.

  I entered the door to the building and into the club of the Sons of Aggression.

  ~ ~ ~

  Massacre, the club's sergeant at arms, laughed at my bar story. "When we get that bar under our belt, we'll make sure we keep you."

  I shrugged, hands in air. Right, Ricky. You'll just swoop in and take it. I shook my head. Not all of them seemed bad. Would they ever doubt Ace, their leader? I expected not. But who knew?

  Their clubhouse was small. There was no typical bar – even if the Iron Crows used an old hotel desk. Everything was new. Everything spoke of a sudden burst of money. Who had provided that money? Even if the members seemed earnest, had Ace set all this up and accepted willing dupes? Or had Ace been a dupe himself?

  I didn't know. I wasn't going to find out in one sitting. The thing was, apart from Ace, these guys seemed like Flats, Leathers, Gripper, or any of the other Iron Crows I knew. The only woman there, a red-head named Gina, even seemed as typical as Grannie. I felt conflicted.

  These guys want to wreck the Iron Crows? I waited a long time. I sat for hours, talking. Finally, when I thought enough time had passed, I asked of Massacre, "What's your beef with the Iron Crows?"

  The sergeant at arms leaned forward. "Ace says this town is ripe for the plucking. Drugs, prostitution - it could all be ours."

  "Don't the Outlaws sanction the Iron Crows?" I played dumb. I also noticed some of the others not being very comfortable with what Massacre was saying.

  "Yeah, but new drug outlets are always welcome. The Outlaws don't care if we challenge them; the new market would erase all that history."

  I had what I needed, I thought. I checked my watch. "I need to get back to Kristy; she might think I'm cheating on her if I don't."

  Massacre and the others around me laughed. "No problems, Jimmy. Bring her along next time."