by Serena Vale
That’s fucking California for you… she thought as she took in the other details of the building.
It was a simple one-story place. It was built out of cinderblocks and was a wide place, like it could have been some kind of a storage facility or something once upon a time. There were stained windows on the front, flanking either side of a metal double-door at which there was a line of people already waiting to get in. Through the windows, she could see the light flickering and the blurred shapes of silhouetted figures moving back and forth, the privacy of the place – at least from the outside – was assured.
Oh, good, she thought as they drew closer. No one will see if we get murdered while we’re inside.
The front was covered in graffiti from top to bottom and in the kind of street characters that she couldn’t read. Even from the outside, she could hear the beat of the loud music and the sound of laughter and high conversation. The smell of tobacco and engine exhaust permeated the air, and she felt sick to her stomach after only a few breaths.
As bad as the place was, it didn’t hold a candle to the kinds of people that were standing in line, waiting for admittance. There were men and women in both, and both seemed to be divided into two distinct camps.
Among them were the kinds of people she figured were the “normal” bikers. Those were bedecked in leather chaps, bandanas on their heads, dark sunglasses, beards, visible tattoos, and leather jackets that could have housed anything from knives to big bore pistols.
Alternately, there were the collections of people that she knew to be the speed demons of this particular day in age. Most of them were younger, only one or two years removed from being kids really. Those were dressed in padded jackets and pants that sported the logo of bike races, or other faster-than-shit marketing. There were men and women there too, the women wearing figure-flattering pants or shirts. Roadies, she thought they were called… or something to that effect.
Either way, it was a strange mixture of people. Bikers who preferred good old-fashioned muscle bikes mingling with those who liked speed and noise from theirs, it was an odd sight. Being from deep inside the city she had always thought that the two groups of people generally didn’t like each other. To see them here was like watching fire and oil slowly creep towards each other and waiting for the inevitable flare up that would consume them and everything else around them.
There was a small assortment of other vehicles parked out in front of the place as well. The most dominant of the vehicles parked out front were, of course, the assortment heavy bikes; Harley’s… Sturgis… like that, which clearly belonged to the traditional bikers. On the other side, as if there were designated parking areas for them, there were Kawasaki’s… Hondas… Ducati’s… or ‘crotch rockets’ as she heard them referred to as. There were also a few pickup trucks and a few cars, including the car that she and Jackie had arrived in. but the former told her that this place was a gathering ground for bikers.
Not the kind of place that we should be, she thought, kicking herself to agreeing to go out on another one of Jackie’s adventures. She said as much to her friend as they drew closer.
“Oh, come on!” Jackie said, with a childlike whine. “Where’s your spine?”
“Firmly lodged inside my back and that’s where I’d like to keep it,” Carlie said as she kicked a rock through the dirt of the parking lot. “To that end, we’re going back home… now.” She said resolutely, feeling determined to head back towards Jackie’s car, parked on the side of the road on the dirt shoulder where they’d left it. The car was old and a little beat up and wouldn’t have stood out in a gathering of vehicles like this so they might still go unnoticed, but Carlie would have thought that the car was better than a stretch limo if only they could turn around and leave now.
“Carlie,” Jackie said, reaching out and resting her hands firmly on her shoulders and keeping her from moving another inch. “Do you know what this place is?”
Carlie looked over her friend’s shoulder at the bar behind her and then looked back to her friend. The cinderblock walls, tinted windows, a gathering of shady characters hadn’t changed. And a neon sign above the door that labeled the place as “The Open Road” shined brightly, but did nothing to tell her of any hidden or underlying meaning that she might have otherwise been missing.
“Is this a trick question, because it looks like a convenient spot for murderers to hide?”
“No,” Jackie said, squeezing her shoulders with mild irritation. “This place… I heard about it at work today,” she said excitedly, but softly. “It’s said that the Gods of Asphalt-like to spend some of their time here.”
Carlie arched a curious eyebrow at her friend. Much of what came out of Jackie’s mouth was a mystery to her, but more than once a little edification was necessary. “And who are they, some kind of a Goth band or something? Is that what this place is? A roadhouse?”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Jackie said, leaning forward and allowing her head to hang in the narrow space between them for a moment before looking up again. “How can you live in L.A. and not know this?” She tensed her fingers on her shoulders as if pressing the information into her body through her touch. “Carlie, the Gods of Asphalt… they’re a motorcycle gang! And I hear that a couple of them are really cute.”
Carlie felt her heart quicken and the desire to leave intensified tenfold. But even that comingled with her desire to smack her good friend upside the head. She was as bad as a man sometimes, being very one-track minded. She might not have known what Jackie did about this place, but she knew that gangs were not typically people that she wanted to be around. That Jackie was a creature motivated by sex had never been a shock to her, but it was that very reason that got them into trouble more than a few times. She put her hands up on Jackie’s shoulders and squeezed intensely. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that. Because if you did, as your friend, I would feel obligated to knock you the fuck out and carry you back to your cheap car and go home and along the way we’ll forget that this whole idea of yours ever happened.”
“Oh, come on!” Jackie said, that familiar whine in her voice reminding her of a pouty child. “Please!”
“No!” Carlie said, tensing her shoulders. “You want to go to a women’s strip club and try and get one of the dancers into your panties… fine. You want to get dressed up like we’re rich and go to a gentleman’s social club to fuck a rich guy… fine. But bars where biker gangs congregate, and we could end up dead? Uh-uh, I’m drawing the line!” she said resolutely and turned back towards the car.
“Carlie!” Jackie said, her pouty tone firmly intact.
“Come on!” she repeated.
“You know I have the keys to my car, right?”
Carlie froze after two steps and shut her eyes with intense loathing for her friend at this particular moment. But that was nothing compared to the self-loathing that she had for herself. All of this could have been avoided if she’d simply said “No” to this night’s outing. She turned back to her friend.
Jackie held up her ring of keys with a winning smile on her face that was, again, akin to a child’s: grinning like they were playing a game that she had already won. And just like she normal, Jackie pulled out the collar of her shirt and dropped the keys down between her breasts and gave each of them a suggestive push-up, hiding the bulk of the keys inside. And then turned to walk towards the line of people waiting outside the doors of the bar and the meaning in that was all too clear: if she wanted to leave, she would have to let Jackie have her fun.
It was an old trick of hers. Carlie was a doctor by training. The human body didn’t bother her. But there was something particularly unnerving about having to feel around inside her friend’s cleavage for the car keys. It was a line that she hadn’t crossed.
Yet, she thought to herself as she grumbled and followed Jackie inside.
Chapter 2
The interior of the bar was just about what she had predicted it would be once they got
inside. They waited in line for ten minutes before a pair of large – but not entirely neutral looking – bouncers admitted them. All the while Carlie whispered into Jackie’s ear, “I hate you for this.”
If Jackie was at all offended by her words she had given no sign of it, her attention being decidedly elsewhere. She just bounced on her heels excitedly as they finally got inside. All Carlie could do was think that her friend was playing Russian Roulette and that somehow the both of them would end up catching a bullet if they weren’t careful in a place like this.
There were so many people crammed on the inside of the bar that she was amazed that there was room for people to move. And every activity seemed to require people from both camps to participate.
There was a dance floor where bikers were crammed and moving to a melody that was hard to hear over the other noises. There were people at the pool tables, playing darts, or having some kind of a drinking game at one corner table or another. Some of them looked to be having hushed conversations while others looked positively overt about whatever it was that they were discussing. It all put a chill down Carlie’s back.
She followed Jackie all the way up to the bar trying to stay as close to her friend as a remora on a shark’s back. She felt stupid even being here. It wasn’t the first time that Jackie’s pussy had led them into a place like this and Carlie considered getting her friend some therapy to try and cure her sex-driven adventures. While Jackie’s eye was wandering around for some piece of easy man-flesh, Carlie’s eye was warier and watching for potential threats.
There were too many to count.
They pushed their way all the way up to the bar and Carlie felt vulnerable for it. The bar was on the far side of the building, directly opposite from the door. It would be no small chore to get out in a hurry if it came to it. But with so many bad elements crowded into a place like this, Carlie felt as if Jackie’s overdeveloped sex drive had finally landed them in god’s blind spot.
Jackie ordered them a couple of beers, though Carlie would have preferred something a tad stronger. Though to have something stronger might have dulled her senses a little more than she wanted and something about that felt like she was baiting herself for something nasty to come and eat her.
She turned an eye to her friend. Where Jackie was slender and perky, Carlie was larger and buxom. Jackie’s skin was fair while Carlie was dark, but she took some comfort from the fact that the pair of them weren’t drawing any unwanted attention from the people around them. It was as if they were invisible to these people and Carlie found that nothing short of acceptable. But as soon as Jackie tried to let it show that she was in need of a little TLC, then that was going to change and quick.
“Ooh, he looks good,” Jackie said, pointing out on particular biker sitting alone at a table near the dance floor. Carlie’s eyes followed Jackie’s finger, and she saw the focus of her friend’s attention.
He was nothing special. A man of sandy blond hair with a gruff look about him, like a man that should have been on a pirate ship with a patch over his eye rather than a leather vest across his chest. But he had the kind of rugged manliness that Carlie knew Jackie favored in her men. The jacket he wore had the logo of some kind of a high-velocity race team, and there was no question in her mind as to which camp this man belonged to.
“Does he make you damp in your panties?” Carlie asked.
Jackie shook her head. “No… but I’ll have to get closer to be sure.” She took the beer that the bartender gave them and took a large swig before setting the bottle down. She gave her breasts one final push upright and brushed her hair over her shoulders. “How do I look?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
Jackie smiled. “Keep your fingers crossed, sweetie. Mama’s going hunting.” With that, Jackie started off across the crowded room, leaving Carlie sitting alone at the bar.
Carlie almost called out after her friend but thought better of it. Noise would only attract unwanted attention, and she preferred to remain as invisible as she could. She sighed and found an unoccupied stool and crawled up on it, taking her beer and drinking half of it in one go.
“I take it that you don’t really care to be here?” asked a deep and brooding voice from behind her.
She turned on her stool to see who had spoken.
Her voice caught in her throat when she saw the owner of the voice. She didn’t know how to describe it to her satisfaction except to say that there was a god standing on the opposite side of the bar.
At first, the sight of him barely registered in her mind. He seemed so out of place here it was like finding a clean spot in a slaughter house. This man that stood before her… he was captivating to look at. All of the noise from the bar simply seemed to fade away. There only seemed to be him and her standing here… it was as if they were completely alone. But as strange as it seemed she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.
He stood close to six feet tall... maybe a little more. His hair was short, nearly spiked and was light brown in color. His eyes were a deep gray, like the sky after a passing storm. His skin was fair but pleasantly darkened as if he spent a lot of time under the sun. His jaw was pointed with an adorable cleft in his chin. More pleasant than that was his figure. From what she could see he wore only leather riding pants and a leather vest. Underneath that vest his abs, chest, and arms were fully visible, and the muscles that were partially concealed under there were beautiful from any angle.
“Excuse me?” she said, finding that her voice had seemed to falter in her throat.
“It’s pretty obvious that you don’t want to be here,” replied the god, a slight trace of what she thought to be a southern accent apparent in his voice as he began to mix a drink, but he did so without taking his eyes off of her. “Usually, most people that come in here have a reason for being here. It’s pretty clear that you don’t.”
Carlie licked her lips, finding that they had suddenly become dry, and she turned herself on her stool to rest her elbows on the bar and face the man fully. “Oh? Am I that obvious?”
The godly bartender smirked, and she found something magnetic in the simple expression. “Well, you do stand out.”
She felt herself blush.
“So what brings you here? Business or pleasure?”
She tried to keep her face neutral. “Uh…”
“Pleasure,” he said, seeming to draw the answer out of her omnipotently. “Well, I’m not sure if you’ll find any pleasure here… but I’m glad you came just the same.”
She tried to maintain her neutral look, but her lips cracked with a girlish smile.
He gestured to the bar at large. “It’s a dump, isn’t it?”
All she could do was give a slight nod.
The bartender nodded in the direction that Jackie had gone off in. “Your friend dragged you here, right? Can’t see why a lady such as you would be here unless she didn’t want to actually be here.”
Carlie said nothing but simply gave a nod as if she were, in fact, being questioned by a god and knew better than to lie. She wasn’t silent out of politeness. She simply wanted to hear him speak more.
The bartender completed his drink and slid it down the bar without watching where it ended up, though it likely was caught by the one who had asked for it. He leaned on the counter top across from her and looked her over, his eyes scanning her from the hair to elbow and then back. Somehow the sight of simply watching him look at her sent a strange tingle up and down her spine.
“I saw the way you walked in here… it’s pretty obvious you don’t generally keep with a crowd like this. But I noticed how you kept your back straight. That means a proper upbringing… that means money. You come from a wealthy family, and I noticed how you kept a watchful eye on everyone else in this place. So you know how to recognize danger when you see it, and that means you have a professional eye.” He turned his head sideways like he was looking at her from a new angle. “That tells me you’re a lawyer… maybe a doctor… so
meone from the upper echelon. And you’re here because you have no choice. How am I doing?”
She nodded but didn’t speak. She didn’t want him to know how much he was getting right, only to acknowledge that he had gotten something right. There was something exciting in keeping him guessing. More important than that, she didn’t want to break his chain of words in any way, his voice was like magic. He sounded both intuitive and hypnotic at the same time, and his words were a silent command for her to keep listening.
Keep talking, she silently pleaded.
The barkeep again looked her over; his eyes seemed to be combing her more deeply than before like he was surveying every strand of muscle beneath her skin. Part of her hoped – wildly so – that he was simply undressing her with his eyes.
“From the way you’re dressed, I can tell that you don’t like to flaunt your wealth. But your perfume,” he sniffed at the air, “that’s Lilac Seduction. High-end stuff usually goes for two grand for an ounce.” He looked her over; his eyes seemed to reach deeper inside of her. “From your perfume and your casual dress I can tell that you live a simple life… you have a routine… you’re organized… and after a while that gets to be pretty mundane. So your friend, who obviously doesn’t come from money or privilege, wants a night of doing something unorthodox. Something dark and dangerous, and a biker’s bar seemed like a good place to go. But you… you had reservations about it. I’ll bet you tried to talk her out of it the whole way here. Am I right?”
She couldn’t maintain her silence anymore and felt a giddy excitement building up inside of her. “I’m impressed,” she said with a smile.
“So, I was right?”
She tilted her head to one side and took a drink from her beer. “Close enough.”
The barkeep smiled.
“Hey there, handsome,” said a woman’s voice from Carlie’s shoulder, drawing her attention of the god away from her.
