A First

It was late and I was tired. All I wanted was to get in my truck, go home and curl up on the screen porch with a good book. As I started the truck I realized that there was something tucked under the windshield wiper. I got out, pulling the paper from beneath the blade and unfolding it. As I read the words I felt a chill. It was an address, nothing more, but I knew exactly what it meant. I looked around the darkening parking lot even though I knew that he wouldn't be there. I got back in the truck and lit a cigarette, knowing what I should do, yet there was a part of me that couldn't I couldn't convince to ignore the note.

The phone rang a few times before my husband answered lazily. "Hey babe." He said, sounding as though he may have been sleeping.

"Hey." I replied, a bit unsure. "Sandy called a while ago. She and the girls are going for drinks and wanted to know if we would join them."

"Oh yeah?" he replied, thinking it over. "Do you want to go?" he asked.

I could tell from his voice that he wasn't in the mood to go out. I couldn't blame him. His long hours and early mornings left him wanting to do nothing more than crash once he returned home from work.

"We don't have to go." I said quickly, saving him the trouble. "I just thought it would be a nice break."

"Well," he said thoughtfully. "Why don't you go ahead; I'm pretty wiped."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I won't be too long, just stay for a couple and then head home."

"Go ahead, babe." He said, happy to have been let off the hook.

I smiled a bit. I love my husband to death, but he can be rather predictable.

"Okay." I sighed. "I'll see you later on. I love you."

"Love you too." He responded as he disconnected the call.

I sat in the truck looking at the note. I should go home now and stay out of the trouble that was surely at the location on the paper in my hand.

I took out my Blackberry and logged into my Yahoo account. Sure enough, he had left a note earlier in the day.

"Andrea, I'll be in town later. You'll know where to find me if you want to.

I'll be there as soon as I can. Geoff

I turned on the GPS and entered the address from the note. As soon as I read the detailed directions I knew where he was sending me. I was excited and sick to my stomach all at once. It was a biker bar, and a seedy one at that. I'd never been inside, but I had driven by many times, and wondered what went on behind the darkened windows. There were always plenty of bikes in the lot, but in all the times that I'd passed by, I had never seen anyone entering or exiting.

The tires of my truck crunched on the asphalt as I drove into the parking lot. It was only 7:30, but it was overcast and already dark. I looked at the collection of bikes in the lot around me. I couldn't remember what Geoff's looked like. I probably wouldn't have found it anyway for all that were there. I thought about staying in the truck until he showed up. He obviously remembered what I drove. I wondered how he had found my office, but then realized that I wasn't in a big city, and there probably weren't too many accounting firms with green trucks in the parking lot. It probably hadn't taken him too long to find me. I supposed that if he left the note, then obviously he was already in town and already at the bar waiting for me. If he wasn't inside, I would have to wait alone for him; not a thought that I cherished. He set me up but good, knowing that I had a fantasy about biker bars. The line between fantasy and reality however, was a bit too definite for me to cross on my own. I'd known plenty of bikers in my time, and though some were just as pleasant as can be, others were rude, crude, and socially unacceptable. I didn't relish the thought of having to share the company of the latter while awaiting Geoff's arrival.

After fifteen minutes I still hadn't seen anyone enter or exit the bar. "Surely he's already inside." I thought, only half convincing myself. I touched up my make up in the rear-view mirror and ran my fingers through my hair. I stuffed my wallet in the back pocket of my Levis and opened the driver's door. "How bad could it be?" I thought. I reminded myself not to ask that question under any sort of alarming circumstances and headed for the bar.

It was smoke-filled and a bit loud inside. The juke was blaring biker bar appropriate tunes; Stevie Ray was lamenting about the sky crying. "At least the music was good." I thought as I crossed to the bar. I looked around the room as I chose a stool far away from the other patrons. I was not lucky enough to find Geoff waiting patiently at a table. There were only about ten other people in the bar, and to my dismay, they were all men, all big and scary looking, and all looking at me.

I took a seat on the bar stool and looked at the bartender who smiled back at me yet made no move in my direction. I nodded, he stared, we smiled, and I knew I was in it up to my bootstraps.

"Hey." I said, trying to sound like a bit more than a mouse. "Think I might get a beer?"

I lit up a cigarette, hoping like hell that my shaking hands weren't too visible. I looked back at the bartender who simply stared at me some more. After another moment he walked toward me and then continued on as though I wasn't there. He came from behind the bar and walked to a door across the room. He knocked, waited a moment, and then, apparently given permission to enter, opened the door and disappeared. After a few minutes another man came out. He looked in my direction and headed toward the end of the bar. Perhaps only he could serve women. Perhaps I had offended the previous man. Perhaps I was ready to leave before it got worse than it was already.

"You're a dumb-ass for even coming here alone." I told myself.

I watched the new guy walk behind the bar and was relieved to see that he was smiling as he walked the length of the bar and stopped directly in front of me. Maybe I'd been too quick to judge.

"Evening'" I said, returning his smile. "Could I get a Newcastle please?"

He chuckled. He reached into the beer cooler and brought out a Budweiser. He popped the top and placed it on the bar in front of me without a word. I should have known better than to ask for an import here. I thought as I reached for the bottle. The bartender watched as I took a hesitant sip before returning the bottle to the bar. He smiled at me and turned away.

I looked around, taking in my surroundings. It was a typical dive, smelling of smoke, stale beer, and testosterone. At the far end was a small stage area. On the stage was one of the most beautiful bikes I'd ever seen. Unlike everything else around me, the bike gleamed under the glare of the lighting. The chrome had surely been polished with a loving hand. It seemed an odd piece of artwork to sit upon a stage, but then I was in the company of men who often treated their bikes better than the women that they claimed to love. I could understand it. I'd never given bikes much thought until somewhere around my thirtieth birthday. I was enthralled with them now, wanting more than anything to be able to feel that power as I rode through the wind. I could only imagine the freedom that came with riding. My husband was fond of telling men that I got wet any time I heard the purr of a motorcycle these days. He'd think me insane for even entering a place like this, but he would understand it all too well.

I turned back to the bar to find the bartender staring at me. There was a shot of amber liquid next to my beer. I looked around, expecting to see Geoff, thinking that surely he had been the one to purchase the drink for me. He was nowhere to be seen. "Great." I thought. "Now I've picked up an admirer." I looked at the bartender, my eyebrow raised in question. From the steady glare, I could tell that his reply would not be forthcoming. He raised his eyes over my shoulder and grinned. I looked over his shoulder into the grimy mirror and saw what he was grinning at. There were three men standing behind me. Lost in my own thoughts I hadn't heard them approach.

"You looked thirsty." The bartender spoke. "My friends thought you might need a drink."

I was almost surprised by his words, having thought that perhaps he was unable to speak since he had been silent until now. I turned, looking at the men behind me.

"That's awfully nice of you." I said with a smile "but I'm waiting for someone."

I turned back to the bartender to find the man no longer smiling. He pushed the shot toward me. It was apparently not in good form to refuse a drink in this joint. I watched the mirror over his shoulder as the men behind me stepped closer. I could hear them breathing now. I reached for the shot, my hand trembling slightly. Raising the glass to the bartender I took it in one gulp, immediately feeling the burn as the liquid hit the back of my throat. I heard a chuckle behind me as I nearly gagged from the foul liquid. I prayed that I wouldn't vomit on the bar. I swallowed, nearly tearing up as my system fought to refuse the bile. I immediately reached for the beer to chase it down. The Bud tasted like Crystal compared to what it followed. I managed to somehow keep it down. I turned to the men behind me, smiling, and nodded my quick thanks, unsure if an attempt to speak might result in a sickening mess. When I turned back to the bar the shot glass had been topped off again. "Shit, shit, shit!" I thought, kicking myself for ever wandering into this place unescorted. I swore to give Geoff a piece of what might be left of my mind whenever he had the nerve to show his face.

"I really appreciate the drinks." I tried, looking again at the bartender. "But I'm meeting someone here."

"Drink up." said a voice so close behind me that I nearly jumped out of my skin.

I turned to see a face at my shoulder, grinning. His breath smelled of cigarettes and liquor. His smile, or perhaps I should call it a leer, was a little too close for comfort. He reached for the shot glass, his face perilously close to mine, and handed it to me. I took the glass and smiled nervously. Wishing that I could pinch my nose shut I brought the glass to my lips. The smell hit me first, sending my gut into spasms of rejection. I drank. Since the first shot had apparently burned away my taste buds, it really wasn't as bad the second time around. I fought to keep it down. Setting the empty on the bar, I murmured a thank you in the direction of the face that had appeared over my shoulder.

I took another long swig of beer, hoping to quell the fire that seemed to be burning my throat to ash. I fumbled in my pocket for my cigarettes. "Fight fire with fire." I thought to myself. The lighter trembled in my hands as I tried to light the cigarette. The bartender grabbed my hand and steadied it; bringing the flame to the unlit tip. He caught my gaze as I inhaled deeply. "Now you're really fucked." I thought to myself. I suddenly regretted having worked through lunch. Perhaps I'd have been alright if I hadn't skipped breakfast as well. My head was fuzzy as the poison in my stomach began to leech its way into my system.

"Ready?" the bartender asked, pushing the shot glass toward me yet again.

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass on this round." I said, smiling.

"It's rude to refuse a drink from the owner of the establishment." said a raspy voice from behind me.

I turned around to find the source standing at my shoulder. I nearly fell off the stool as I backed away in surprise. He was too close for comfort, and his eyes were too dark to be human. He reached out and grabbed my arm as I tried to catch myself on the bar. He steadied me on the stool.

"Careful little girl." He snickered. "You might get yourself hurt."

I felt my stomach drop at the thinly veiled threat. His fingers dug into my arm like a vice. His smile wasn't that of a gentleman. I pulled my arm back and stepped down from the stool.

"Thanks for the drinks." I stammered, grabbing my cigarettes from the bar. "I really should get going."

I pulled my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans and turned to the bartender. I tossed a credit card on the bar.

"Sorry, darlin'." He said smiling. "We don't accept plastic here."

I almost laughed at the statement. I dug into my wallet hoping to find some cash, knowing that I wouldn't.

"I guess I'll be waiting a little longer for my friend in that case." I said, climbing back up to my stool.

The man standing behind me stepped in close as I sat down. He eyed me hungrily, greedily, and blatantly, a smile on his lips.

"Perhaps we could work something out." He said, licking his lips.

"I think I'll wait for my friend." I said nervously.

"I don't allow loitering in my bar." He responded. "Drink, settle up, or provide a little entertainment to pass the time."

I felt sick all over again. I grabbed the near empty beer bottle and sipped at the dregs.

"I'll drink thanks." I said as I leaned on the bar in order to put some space between us.

I wasn't surprised when the bartender pushed the shot glass toward me again. I grabbed the glass and shot the foul liquid. The burn was gone and the taste didn't seem nearly as foul as the first.

I sat staring at the mirror behind the bar. With the exception of the owner, the men had returned to their seats. The owner sat at the bar next to me, his eyes burning into my flesh. I was gratefully beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol by this time. My head was comfortably numb and my limbs felt a bit like silly putty. It wasn't such a bad feeling. I smoked cigarette after cigarette as I waited. The bartender or the owner was kind enough to light each when my coordination failed me.

Someone had started the juke box again; a steady stream of raucous rock assaulted my senses. I cringed as the volume was cranked up to an ear splitting level. I needed to use the restroom, but wasn't sure that I wanted to venture down the darkened hall where they were located. Following my gaze, the owner grinned, apparently realizing my predicament.

"Go ahead." He said, nodding toward the hallway. "Those guys won't bother you."

"Uh huh." I mumbled unconvinced. "I'm sure they're all perfect gentlemen."

He stood up, stepping close to my stool. He put his hand on my lower back to guide me off the seat.

"Trust me." He said. "They won't bother you."

I stood up, more to escape the heat of his touch than out of trust. I raised my chin defiantly and headed for the bathroom. Eyes followed me every step of the way, but as he had promised, no one bothered me. I entered the bathroom, surprised to find it neat, clean, and brightly lit. As I stood by the sink, washing my hands and finishing up, I looked in the mirror. My eyelids were a bit droopy from the effects of the alcohol, but other than that I looked okay. I cursed Geoff. I hated being stood up.

"Fuck it." I said to myself. "I'm here, I've got a decent buzz, and the proprietor looks pretty damned hot."

I walked out of the restroom to find the owner leaning against the wall. I paused outside the door, feeling his eyes on me. I returned the gaze, helping myself to the view from his dark eyes all the way down to the toes of his scuffed Ropers. "You might as well have some fun with this." I thought to myself. He seemed to pick up on my change of attitude. He watched me, apparently waiting to see what I would do next.

"I think I'd like another drink now." I said as I stepped across the hall to stand in front of him.

"I'm afraid you can't afford another drink." He said, pushing away from the wall. "You don't seem to have any cash if I recall correctly."

"Then I guess I'll just have to provide some entertainment." I said in a whisper.

He eyed me up and down, shaking his head. He stepped toward me, his face very close to mine. His hands were on me before I saw it coming. His touch was hard and rough. My breath caught in my throat and I wondered if I'd gotten into something that I might not be able to get out of. I opened my mouth to speak and he took it as an invitation. His mouth was on mine, his teeth grinding against my lips. He thrust his tongue between my lips forcefully. I pulled back only to find myself up against the wall. As his hands found my breasts I felt my resistance draining. He squeezed my nipples hard, causing me to gasp. He kissed me harder, devouring my mouth with insistence. He rolled my nipples expertly, increasing the pressure as they hardened to his touch. I felt the numbing effects of the alcohol overtake my caution as I reacted to him. I hadn't been handled by a man in a very long time. It felt good; too good. I found his hips and pulled him against me. I could feel his hard sex straining against his jeans as our hips met. I ground against him, feeling a wanting growing inside me. He pressed harder against me, rubbing and grinding. His hand slid down my stomach and found the front of my jeans. He expertly unbuttoned them with one hand and yanked the zipper down. I felt the heat of his touch as he drove his hand beneath the fabric, searching out my sex. I groaned into his mouth as his fingers slipped between my lips and pressed into me.

"You're fucking soaked." He said, pulling back to look at my face. "You want it bad don't you?"

"Yes." I breathed, barely able to speak.

He leaned forward, his tongue sliding over my throat. He nipped at my ear, his teeth grazing the soft skin.

"You're a hot little slut, aren't you?" he asked. "Just a hot little slut, looking for a good fuck, right?"

I said nothing, my attention focused on the feeling of his fingers driving hard into my sex. I couldn't breath. I knew I had bitten off a bit more than I could chew with this one.

"Answer me." he growled in my ear.

"Yes." I managed.

"Yes what." He said, slamming me back against the wall hard.

"Yes, I'm a slut." I gasped, fear now taking a firm grasp in my gut.

He yanked his hand from my jeans, pressing me against the wall with his weight. I couldn't breath. I kicked myself silently for thinking that the whole tough Yankee bitch attitude would fly with this guy.

"We know what to do with sluts like you around here." He said. "We know exactly what you need."

His tongue snaked across my skin, hot and wet. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the bar as I tried to button my jeans with one hand.

"Our little slut's ready for another shot." He said to the bartender.

The man smiled too big as he poured a shot into the glass and pushed it toward me. I took the glass and drank it back, wondering if I could be lucky enough to pass out.

"What a good little girl." The owner said with a grin.

"Don't fucking call me a little girl you bastard." I growled at him, reacting to the phrase before I could think better of it.

He yanked me across the room and toward the stage. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!" My brain screamed. I admonished myself repeatedly. I had offered up entertainment, and he was going to hold me to it.

"Sit down." He said, dragging me up on the stage.

I looked at him questioningly; there was no place to sit.

"On the bike." He said, smiling.

I looked at the bike wondering what kind of fucked up game he was playing. I threw a leg over the seat and sat down, leaning back against the tall chrome sissy bar. I made a mental note not to call it such out loud.

His hands were hard as he rubbed my breasts, my crotch, and squeezed my thighs. He smiled as my body reacted to his touch without considering the thoughts currently running through my head. Scared or not, he felt good to me. Too many years with a lover who touched me as if I were made of glass had left an emptiness that ached to be filled. I let myself relax a little as his hands traveled over my body, grabbing, squeezing, and pressing in all the right spots. I looked toward the bar and was not surprised to find all eyes on us. I felt a jolt of excitement in spite of myself. I enjoyed the attention. It fueled the adrenaline that pumped furiously through my veins. I leaned back, closing my eyes as his hands worked over my body.