Erik's Absolution

by Kristine Allen

  “So, what is a beautiful, smart, young woman like you doing working as a stripper?” I realized there wasn’t necessarily a “type” for a stripper, but despite that, she didn’t seem like a woman who had aspired to be an exotic dancer. She seemed so innocent, smart, and collected. It was hard to reconcile this fresh-faced beauty in front of me as one of our dancers, when she seemed like the quintessential girl next door; one who should have better alternatives. It just didn’t seem to fit for some reason.

  “I’ve been working at the Shamrock to pay for college. Not much of a story. We’re not all born rich, and college isn’t free.” Something, along with her lack of eye contact and fiddling with the small black straw from her drink, told me there was a lot more to it than that. What I really wanted to know was why it mattered to me what the rest of the story was. It shouldn’t matter diddly shit what her background included, since I didn’t want her around long term. Right? But some insatiable beast seemed to be trying to claw its way out of me—intent on devouring every detail about the beautiful, dark-haired woman in front of me, running her fingertip through the condensation on the glass.

  “So that’s it? No family? What are you going to school for?” Shit. I sure as hell never meant to ask all these questions. Like I said, it didn’t matter. Really, it was irrelevant. If I kept telling myself that, I would believe it and adhere to my thoughts. It just seemed my mouth wasn’t paying any attention to this inner voice of reason, and when it opened, it was pure word vomit.

  “Ummm, yeah, not much to tell. No parents.” Her face flickered with a brief glimpse of a deep, ravaging pain. One thing my stint in the Marines taught me was how to read people, but with her, it seemed to be hit or miss. She was pretty good at keeping herself hidden—her real self. Despite that, it was obvious the loss of her parents was either recent, or still deeply painful.

  “What about you? My life is really pretty boring. You’re the big, bad, sexy biker dude, surely your story is better than my mundane little life.” Her smile once again jolted my heart like a shock from a defibrillator.

  “You think I’m sexy? Nice to know.” The grin that spread across my face was impossible to contain. My ego was preening and arching like a cat inside my head.

  “Who’re you kidding? Like that’s not something you’re fully aware of? Every panty for miles around must be wet anytime you come near or open your mouth. The effect you have on women has surely not escaped your notice. Please, don’t act surprised that you affect me physically. It doesn’t mean I’m going to hop in the rack with you, though. Got it? That’s not me. So, if you’re sniffing up that tree, keep moving.” Her sarcastic, dry tone still didn’t ruin the words she had spoken prior to that diatribe. She thought I was sexy. Hell no, I never had a hard time getting women to drop their britches on the few occasions I wanted them to, but like I said, it was a little hard to read her. She seemed so damn closed off. Private.

  But she still admitted it. She was turned on by me. My grin wasn’t held back; I didn’t even try.

  “First of all, if that were true, that would include my mother and my sister, so no. Just eeeewww, no. Second of all, you think I’m sexy. You admitted it, freely. Say it again.” She rolled her eyes at me but couldn’t hold back a little smile and chuckle. I leaned back in my seat with my hands linked behind my head, waiting for her to admit it again. She crossed her arms over her chest, plumping her already great tits up until they were bursting out of the top of her low-cut T-shirt. Of course, my eyes zeroed in on that. How could they not?

  Remember, red-blooded man here.

  “You damn well know blood-related family was not included in that statement. That your mind even went there in the first place is slightly disturbing.” Her lips pursed, and a single corner of her mouth raised in humor. I couldn’t help but laugh. This girl had made me laugh more in one night than I probably had in months. Leaning forward, I rested my forearms on the edge of the table before raising my glass to my lips. After the perfect burn of the Crown as it passed my tongue, I opened up to her a little. Well, more than I would with most people.

  “Okay, so I went to college on a football scholarship, studying computer science, but got bored before my senior year and dropped out. Joined the Marine Corps—Semper Fi—did a six-year stent, got out, came home, met up with the guys, prospected, patched, and here I am. Parents were not happy about all of that, but they got over it. Sort of. Sister, younger. Two brothers, older. I’m good with computers. I love my bike. What else do you need to know?”

  “College boy and military, eh? That’s hot. So, you have a pretty big family. Two older brothers and a younger sister? Are they anything like you? Because if so, I feel sorry for your mom.” She snickered.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? And are you trying to say because I’m a biker and a Marine that it’s shocking I went to college? I’m deeply offended, Kassi. And I’ll have you know, I’m damn near perfect, so that would make my mother a happy woman if they were all like me. She could only wish to have been so lucky.” She laughed again at my mock indignation. “You laugh? I’m insulted!” I raised an eyebrow and took another sip of my Crown.

  “Oh, Lordy, I need to put my feet up! It’s getting deep in here. But seriously—” Her expression sobered, and she glanced at her glass before looking up at me with those damn thick lashes. “—thank you for convincing me to come here with you. In all honesty, I really needed this. My life has been… well, stressful, to say the least, over the last several years. So anyway, thanks again. I appreciate your persistency. I just feel I need to be upfront with you and make sure you understand this really can’t go anywhere. My life is, umm… complicated, and I just can’t get involved with you. Not just you, I mean anyone.” She stared down at the table as she drank from her rapidly emptying glass.

  “Sweetheart, I’m not looking to marry you. And trust me, relationships are not my thing either. That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other’s company in a mutually beneficial way for the night. Right?” My head tipped down to the side in an attempt to get her to look at me. When that didn’t work, I reached across the table and gently tipped her chin up. My finger trailed along her jaw of its own volition. The sensation that bombarded me every time our skin touched was still there, like little ripples of electric current. Hell, just being near her sent this strange wave of energy across my skin. “Do you want another one?” I nodded toward her glass.

  “No, but thank you. It’s been awhile since I’ve been on the back of a bike, so I better keep my wits about me. It wouldn’t be good if I fell off, now would it.” She chuckled again.

  “Babe, I would never let you fall.” My words were said in dead earnestness, but felt as if they had a double meaning. They were words I actually needed to tell myself, because something told me this girl was different than any other I’d known. With my past, I definitely didn’t need her reading more into this conversation or what may transpire between us.

  “Cake By The Ocean”—DNCE

  HIS WORDS ECHOED THROUGH my head as I thought about how easy it would be to fall for him. He was gorgeous with his dark, messy hair, sexy beard, and his blue-green eyes. And that body, shit, if he was covered in muscles like I felt on his abs and could see in his arms, then I knew he had that perfect V that led to heaven, or hell, depending on your perspective.

  Dammit, why was my mind always going to sex when it came to him?

  Because you want to ride him like a cowgirl.

  Oh my God, shut up! Great, I was starting to have conversations with my inner slut. That bitch needed to go back to whence she came.

  What would it hurt to break this re-virginizing dry spell you’ve been under? Like he said, he doesn’t want a commitment, and you know he’s down to fuck. Casual sex is not a crime, honey.

  Shut up! My hand went to my forehead in an attempt to focus my brain and ignore the slut in my head.

  “Headache? We can leave if you want. I hate to let you go so soon, but I don’t want you uncomfort
able.” And why did he have to be so sweet… and so funny… and so yummy?

  Argh! Come on, Kassi. Control. Get some.

  “No, I’m good. Just thinking, I guess. So, you don’t do relationships, is there a reason for that? Like, you’ve never had a relationship? Ever? Or have you truly made it into your… what… mid to late twenties without getting bit by the love bug?” A flicker of pain flashed in his eyes, so briefly I would have missed it had I blinked, before he took another sip of his drink, schooled his features, and grinned at me again.

  “Why? Jealous if I had?” Nice non-answer. Paired with the expression I saw, it told me there was a story there, and it wasn’t a pretty one. Not that I was going to push it, because he was pretty good at evading questions and we really just met. Another time.

  No! We weren’t going to be a thing, so that didn’t matter. For the life of me, I couldn’t fathom why this guy seemed to get under my skin so easily. For crying out loud, I was a stripper, so it wasn’t like I hadn’t gotten my fair share of male interest and propositions, but none of them had ever tempted me like he did.

  “Of course not! Why would I be? After all, this is just drinks, right? No relationship, no strings. Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to know if you’ve ever let your guard down enough to let someone in. Curiosity, I guess.” My straw made a slurping sound as I finished the last of my drink. Maybe one more wouldn’t hurt, but the waitress still hadn’t been back to check on us, so I tipped the glass, gathering an ice cube with the tip of my tongue and pulling it into my mouth. When I looked back up at him, his eyes were wide, and he looked like he had swallowed his tongue. The snarky little inner slut in me chewed up the piece of ice and used my tongue to pull out another one. Yes, I knew I was playing with fire….

  He gulped down the last of his drink, slapped money down on the table for a tip, and slid out of the booth, grabbing my hand and pulling me behind him. “Let’s go.”

  “But I was thinking of getting another drink.” My protest was all bullshit to tease him a little more. It was just too freaking fun to mess with him. He gave a chin nod to the bartender who gave a single raised hand before shouting, “Later, Erik! Thanks for stopping by.”

  As we stepped out into the cool night air, he pulled me to the side of the building in front of the place next door, which was obviously getting remodeled, pushing me against the wall, burying his hands in my tangled hair, and pressing his lips to mine. For all of two seconds, I thought about how we were right there in the open for anyone driving by or going in the bar to see. Then his tongue teased the seam of my lips, begging for entrance, and my mind blanked. In supplication, my lips parted, inviting his tongue to invade my mouth before his tongue circled and tormented mine. He tasted of whiskey and heaven.

  A moan slipped from me as his body pressed closer. Instinctively, my nipples strained toward him and began tingling, as was an area to the south. Pleading the fifth, I may or may not have ground that southern part closer to the hardness pressed tightly against his dark jeans. Just maybe. One hand left my hair and trailed along my side, slipping around back to run lightly under the back of my shirt before sliding down and cupping my ass to pull me snug against him. Against my better judgement, my leg raised and wrapped around his thigh in an attempt to bring that area of me closer to the thick ridge of his, that was so very prominent.

  Yesssss, please, my inner slut moaned. Damn, I couldn’t find it in me to shut her up, because at that moment, we were in total agreement.

  When we broke for air, we were both panting like we had run a marathon. My cheek rested on the soft leather on his shoulder and his breath fluttered against the back of my head as he held me close. God, he smelled so damn good.

  “Your place?” His voice was almost a growl, evidence that I affected him as much as he affected me. The knowledge stroked my feminine ego just a little. Okay, a lot. When his words sank in, my heart dropped a little with them. There was no way I could bring him home, but I didn’t want to explain about my brother. My personal life needed to stay out of whatever this may be for so many reasons. Once again, I battled with the inner slut.

  You know you want whatever he’s packing, don’t try to deny it.

  Shut up, I have to think of Matt and keeping this life separate from our family life.

  Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the pleasure this stud wants to dish your way.

  What if that bitch from CPS finds out I’m not just working as a stripper, but screwing a fricking motorcycle club member? Surely that wouldn’t be good….

  Oh, come onnnn, live a little!

  “No. Your place.” Was that breathless, needy voice mine?

  Looks like the inner slut wins, beeotch. Yessssss!

  “I can make that happen. Now. Let’s go.” He pressed a firm kiss to my lips then stepped back, looking into my eyes. When he pulled me back to his bike, I found myself questioning my decision and my sanity.

  Shit. Come on, girl, don’t back out now. Don’t be a dick tease.

  I’m not!

  Whatever makes you feel better, but you can’t go telling a guy yes then crying no. That’s a real bitch move, and we’re not a bitch.

  Ha! Maybe I’m not.

  Shut up and get on the damn bike.

  Grrrrrrrr.

  After I climbed on behind him and we pulled out into the night, my doubts left. The warmth of his body where I was pressed against him was enough to erase those remaining doubts. That’s when I knew I was committed to sleeping with him. No question. As we raced down the road, my anticipation continued to build. Jesus, I was going to actually do this. I must be crazy.

  Yeah, crazy in a good way though.

  My eyes rolled at my continuous inner dialogue with my devilish conscience, aka the inner slut. This was what happened when you didn’t have time for friends. Take note.

  We were heading out of town past the strip club and toward Grantsville. Just before we reached the outskirts though, we turned south off the highway and into a little housing development that looked like it was older, but well kept. Slowing, he pulled into the driveway of a surprisingly nice bi-level home. It was hard to tell the exact color in the dark.

  The garage door raised, and he pulled his bike in, parking next to a sexy-as-hell, red, vintage Dodge Charger. It was freaking be-yoooooou-teeeee-full. Any other time, I would have been salivating all over it, but we were on a mission. The garage door closed behind us, and he shut off the engine to the bike.

  “Not really that I want you to, but this is the last chance I’m giving you to change your mind. You say no, we head straight back to your car.” His deep voice resonated off the enclosed space of the garage. Without hesitation, I climbed off the bike and boldly reached up to cup the front of his jeans. If I was doing this, I was going all in. My nails raked against the slight bulge, and I felt him enlarge as a growly groan escaped him. His head was tilted back, and his eyes were closed. “Motherfucker, baby, there’s no going back now, unless you’re intent on killing me,” he ground out. When his eyes opened, they appeared deep teal in the dim light of the garage. Damn, they were heavenly, and I could totally get lost in them if I let myself.

  “Does it seem like I want to back out of this?” Where was this bold wench coming from?

  Ummm… hello, I’ve been here the whole time. You just keep locking me up!

  It was as if my Sparkle persona was coming out, even though I was far from the stage. It made me wonder if who I was onstage was really so far away from the real me. Maybe it was just my subconscious way of separating the job I did from who I was as a person. Maybe a part of me was carefree, confident, and sexual, and I just kept that part of me compartmentalized to justify what I did to pay the bills. Who knew? Sigmund Freud I was not, and the psychology lesson would have to wait.

  He still sat straddling his bike as I leaned over to kiss his lips, ending the light kiss with a gentle bite to his lower lip before tugging it slightly. Lightning fast, his hands snaked around my waist and lifted, pulling
me so I straddled his bike, facing him. My ass rested on his tank and my legs sat over the tops of his thighs, ankles crossed on the seat behind him. He fitted me tight against him, grinding my crotch against his erection.

  Holy hell, just that little bit of contact had me tingling, and I felt my panties get wet. God, he did insane things to my body. I felt on fire everywhere we touched. He angled his head to take control of my lips in a passionate kiss that sent my heart racing, my girlie parts clenching, and me gasping for breath. Wow.

  Now let me remind you, I’m not a slut. I don’t consider myself easy. I’m not a “bad girl” either. Okay? Being a stripper didn’t make me a bad girl, or a bad person, it was just a job. Never had I dated—or slept with—a customer. Nor did I mess with the guys from the MC. That was not my thing, and it never interested me before. It was too cliché, I guess—the stripper and the biker. That sounded like a cheesy romance novel and caused me to snicker in my head.

  However, I had that inner-slut, evidently, who thought I’d had enough celibacy and this was the guy to break the drought with. Who was I to argue? Anyway, back to my story…

  That was easily the hottest kiss I had ever experienced. When he broke off, our foreheads rested together, and we sat breathing the other’s scent in deep, ragged breaths. He kissed me chastely on the cheek and swatted my ass playfully before lifting me off his lap and getting off the bike.

  “Come on, baby.” His hand grasped mine, and he led me up a short set of stairs into his home. I tried not to be too nosey, but I noticed a bright, open kitchen that had the light on over the stove. Stainless steel appliances gleamed in the dim light. We walked past the living room, shrouded in darkness, and down a short hall to a door leading into what was obviously his bedroom. As he flipped on the light, I noticed the bedding was an earth-tone blend in a geometric print, and the headboard was a padded dark brown leather. There was a large contemporary piece above the bed, and I had to wonder if he had actually decorated this room himself, because it seemed too “Better Homes and Garden” for a biker. Can’t lie, I was pretty impressed with his bedroom.