Harley Davidson Lawyer Ch. 04

Bertha waved from a table next to a narrow runway along the opposite wall. A floor-to-ceiling mirror covered the wall behind the runway. A scantily clad dancer was working a pole at the end of the runway, maybe ten feet away.

As Matt led me to the table occupied by the Raptors club president and his old lady, he said, "We're lucky they held us a spot. It's usually not this crowded. Maybe it's the Daisy Duke contest."

"I don't understand. Who is Daisy Duke?"

"She was a character on the TV show called "The Dukes of Hazard" that ran in the early 1980s and involved car chases in every episode. Daisy Duke was known for her short cut-off jeans and flannel shirt tied together in front. Her outfit showed a lot of skin for the time."

"Well, that explains all the skanky women dressed like demented farm girls."

Both Josh and Bertha got up to welcome me with a hug. The club president pulled me in first and enveloped my small frame in his massive embrace.

Josh pulled back from his warm bear hug with his big hands on my ass. "I'd like to welcome our candidate for membership in the LA Raptors. Matt told me a lot of impressive things about our tough new lawyer. I've already been on the receiving end of your fist, and it left a lasting impression on my face."

"I guess I'm not a member until I survive the initiation. I just hope it doesn't involve hot coals."

Josh squeezed my ass and laughed, "Don't worry your pretty little head. The initiation is just a simple formality. We'll make sure you enjoy every minute of it. I'm looking forward to working with you closely for a long time to come.

"Just a word of warning. If you're going to be a member of our motorcycle club, you need to get used to being hassled by the police. I expect my chief counsel to exhibit patience and understanding when dealing with the law."

As soon as Josh let go of my ass, Bertha locked me in a tight hug.

"Damn girl, you've done a number on Matt. If he grinned any harder, his head would pop off. Judging by the screams and moans that kept us awake all night, I'd say he has good reasons to smile. Welcome to the Raptors. We work hard and fuck even harder."

We sat down at the table, and Josh waved a waitress over. She was wearing tight hot pants, high heels, and a smile. Her small tanned pert breasts with large dark areoles were on full display. I looked around and noticed all of the waitresses were similarly dressed.

Josh smiled at me and said, "Bring a setup of Tequila shots for the two love birds. I'll have a whiskey, and my old lady is doing rum and coke."

I tried to protest that I didn't need more to drink, but Josh wouldn't hear it. The band announced they were going on break and an older man in full riding leathers took the microphone. Josh commented that the guy's name was Andy, and he was the club's owner and chief judge for the competition.

"While the band is on its break, we're going to have the first four Daisy Duke contestants perform. Everyone will dance to the same song picked by the DJ. We've got eleven dancers, so we'll have them perform during the band's first three breaks. We'll pick the top four and have a runoff for the five hundred dollar prize. If you like a dancer, make some noise for the little lady."

The first Daisy Duke wannabe performed on the runway just a few feet away from our table. The Dj was playing a great dance song that was appropriate for a Daisy Duke strip club competition. It was Nickelback's 'Shakin' Hand's.'

She had her eyes on the prize as the girl next door.

You grow up quick when you grow up poor.

The cut-off shorts showed a lot of her bare legs and a hint of the young woman's lower ass cheeks. Her big breasts were free under her unbuttoned flannel shirt. Her top was tied together with a knot just below her jiggling breasts. She was a little overweight and clumsy. She bent over and held onto the pole at the end of her number while gyrating her butt. She was well known to the audience because they called out her name as they encouraged her to let it all hang out. I heard a few shouts for her to take it off, but she seemed confused because they didn't say if they wanted her to take off her shirt or cut-off jeans. Anyway, she ignored the catcalls.

The following three dancers weren't as good. Our drinks arrived after the second dancer's uninspiring performance. Josh made a toast and insisted that Matt do the shots to celebrate my applying to become a Raptor. When the band returned, Matt took my hand and led me onto the dance floor. My nervousness disappeared after it became evident dancing consisted of jumping around and waving your hands in the air to painfully loud and unintelligible vocals. My new boyfriend couldn't take his eyes off my unconstrained breasts as they bounced around and threatened to escape my flimsy top. By the time the set ended, I was dripping with sweat. My thin cotton muscle shirt was sticking to my body, and the wet fabric had turned semitransparent.

When we returned to the table, Matt and Josh couldn't take their eyes off my barely concealed breasts. I was embarrassed that my dark nipples and areoles were on display. Bertha laughed and called her old man a horn dog. I nervously tried to take their attention off my chest.

"If I had a Daisy Duke outfit, I could win this contest easily."

Josh looked at Matt and slapped him on the back. "You've got to love lawyers. They're always so cocky. I'm glad she's going to be working for us."

He turned to me and smiled. "Little girl, you don't have a chance against these so-called amateurs. I've seen most of these women compete numerous times over the last two years. They're all here for the money, and the battle will get fierce."

I had to restrain myself. It was the second time this condescending bastard had pissed me off. The first time he groped me, I'd responded with a sharp jab that just missed breaking his nose. I had to remind myself that he was a client who had me on a $100k retainer. Soon he would be my club president. Still, calling me a little girl was like sticking a hot poker into my brain.

I hated it when men reacted to my tiny body and youthful looks and instinctively treated me like a little girl while failing to respect my intellectual abilities. Unfortunately, I would have been better off hitting him. Instead, in my inebriated condition, I took his warning as a challenge.

"Get me a Daisy Duke costume, and I'll bet you five hundred dollars I can win this hick town's stupid contest."

Josh was confused by my intense response. "Five hundred dollars?"

I was so angry that my body was shaking. "Isn't that what first place in this stupid contest is worth?"

Josh grinned. "I cannot turn down a bet, especially when it's free money. Bertha, do you have any idea where we can get Lyss a Daisy Duke outfit?"

Bertha said, "Give me your folding knife, and in ten minutes, I can turn her jeans into Daisy Duke cut-offs. I can't do anything about getting a flannel shirt, but I doubt Andy will care when he sees her wet muscle shirt. All he wants to do is sell drinks, and there's nothing better for getting the customers excited than a hot new dancer with big, barely concealed tits."

Matt laid his hand on my shoulder and said, "Are you sure you want to do this? The one time I watched this contest, several of the women stripped to their transparent panties for the final round."

I looked at my new boyfriend. His gaze reflected his concern. Of course, he was aware I was going commando; he was the one who'd ripped my thong to shreds in a moment of passion. I felt calmer as I stared into his eyes and forced myself to take deep breathes.

"What do you think I should do, Matt?"

"Lyss, it's your body. I'll still love you either way. I just want you to know what you are getting into."

Had Matt just said he loved me? This relationship was moving fast. Before I could respond to Matt, Josh poked my ego again.

"Backing down, little girl? Did it just get too hot in here for you? Nice move turning to Matt to bail you out."

I stood up and beckoned to Bertha.

"Come on, Bertha. Let's go to the restroom and bring your asshole husband's pig sticker."

Once we got into the woman's room, Bertha locked the door. She opened a big folding knife and tested the razor-sharp blade on a paper towel.

"Lyss, I need you to hold still. Maybe you could press your front against the wall while I start on the back. I'm going to start by enlarging the rips to remove the leggings."

I turned around and pressed against the tile wall. The tile felt cool on my bare stomach. Bertha placed her big hand in the middle of my bare lower back and shoved me tight against the wall.

"How short do you want it?"

"Whatever it takes to win."

"I saw a couple of contestants at the bar who have their shorts cut like a bikini swimsuit with most of their ass cheeks exposed. Josh said they came in first and second the last time he watched the competition."

"Well, Bertha, it sounds like you need to make them at least as short as their's and maybe shorter."

She said, "Spread your legs and hold still. "

The next thing I heard was the sound of a sharp knife slicing through my low-rise skinny jeans. Her wicked blade was only inches from my delicate sex. She had me turn around to work on the front. Her surprisingly soft hand pressed on my bare abdomen. With a couple of final cuts, the legs fell around my ankles. She finished each leg by trimming more fabric away from the bottoms. I was nervous when she made the last couple of quick cuts near my crotch. Bertha finished by cutting off the exposed pockets. I bent over and pulled the remnants over my four-inch platform wedge sandals. I felt a cool breeze on my exposed ass cheeks.

When I stood back up, Bertha said, "Normally, you can fray the bottoms by washing them a few times, but I'll have to do it by hand."

She pressed my stomach against the wall again. I felt her fingers slide under the bottoms of my new cut-offs. I tried to ignore her fingers brushing against my bare ass cheeks.

Bertha laughed as her busy fingers worked on the back of my crotch, and I shivered.

"Damn, girl. You're easily aroused. The crotch of your jeans is soaking wet. Guess that'll teach you to wear panties next time."

I squeaked out a reply. "It's not my fault. Matt ripped off my only panties to shreds last night. He's been playing with the rips in my jeans all day. The horny bastard can't keep his hands away from my pussy."

I heard a chuckle from Bertha. "I can't believe the change in Matt. He's been walking around like a dog that's been kicked once too often ever since that gold digger Sherri decided to hook up with a divorced banker. Stupid bitch didn't realize Matt earns ten times what her squeaky clean suburban banker makes. Well, good riddance. She complained every minute she was riding on the back of his bike. The wind dried out her skin and snarled her hair. The bike was too loud, and in the end, there was nothing Matt could do to make her happy. Since he met you, he can't stop grinning."

"What was Sherri like? I mean physically. What kind of woman does Matt like?"

"She was tall and stringy like a weed. I never saw her tits, but I think they were only slightly larger than her brain, from what Matt said. Her best feature was her bubble butt and long legs. Matt is an ass man, pure and simple if you're asking about his preferences in physical features. I think being with Sherri made him realize how much he values intelligence. Earlier today, he commented that you were as bright as you were beautiful. You don't have a thing to worry about if you want him."

I wasn't sure what I wanted. I was smart enough to know that my brain was under the influence of massive amounts of hormones for the first time in my life. The slang term is 'puppy love.' However, I hadn't been so happy since my parents took me to Disneyland when I was six. So I thought I knew the answer to Bertha's implied question about wanting Matt. I was afraid that they would disappear like a dream when one awakes if I put my desires into words. Instead, I responded to her opinion of Sherri.

"I get the feeling you didn't like Sherri."

"More like I hated her. I'm thrilled Matt has picked you for a girlfriend. I like you already. I think we could be great friends. Please don't take this the wrong way, but I've always wanted a little sister. Sorry, but I'm such a freaking monster that I'm stuck being the big sister."

Bertha was an Amazon. She was tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular with athletic legs, wide hips, gorgeous ass, and large breasts that matched her frame. Her face looked Scandinavian and was framed by long blond hair that she wore in a braid. She was a big beautiful woman who towered over her barrel-chested husband, but there was no way I would call her a freaking monster. I would love to have her as a sister or a girlfriend. I'd had just as many girlfriends as boyfriends in my life, which was zero. When I was younger, I'd sometimes wondered what it would be like braiding a girlfriend's hair while we chatted about boys. When my school work was interrupted by such frivolous thoughts, I'd always tell myself to be serious and turn back to my studies.

"Bertha, I'd love to have you for a big sister or even just a girlfriend."

Bertha laughed, "Sis, you need to turn around so I can fray the front of your outfit."

I turned around. My back was to the wall. Bertha took my hands and wrapped them around a coat hook over my head.

"Pretend your hands are tied to the hook. Guys like to fantasize about tying women up. It's all about power. I have to admit the idea of tying you up turns me on."

I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach the hook. I understood Bertha's comment about power. My legs started to shake as a feeling of powerlessness overwhelmed me. I whimpered as her fingers slid inside the bottoms of my cut-offs and began rubbing the newly cut fabric. The backs of her fingers rubbed across my moist slit. I stared up at her serious face and moaned.

Bertha said, "If we are going to be friends, I have to be honest. I'm bisexual. I like women as much as I like men. I hope that doesn't bother you. Josh and I have an open relationship. Most of the time, we have sex with each other, but now and then, temptation wins out when I see a gorgeous man or woman. I think you are the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Unless you say no, I intend to have you. I hope I'm not scaring you."

Bertha's fingers were no longer working to fray my cut-offs. One hand was inside the bottoms of my short cut-offs caressing my mound. Her other hand had slipped inside my top and was massaging my breasts. Her mouth moved down to mine and her lips pressed against my lips. Her tongue slipped inside my mouth. I sharply inhaled as she slid a finger inside my wet vagina. I ground my sex against her probing finger as she pressed it in deep and dragged the tip across my G-spot. The big woman knew just how to touch me to build my arousal. I cried when she removed her finger, just as I felt my body begin building to a sweet orgasm.

"Oh God, please don't stop."

I arched my back and cried out as she drove two fingers into my sex. It had been hours since Matt had brought me release. Maybe I was becoming addicted. I ground my sex against her fingers and begged for more. I was almost there when Bertha pulled her fingers from my engorged pussy.

"I'm sorry, but we don't want to miss your turn to dance. We'll have to finish this later."

"Bertha, please. I'm so close. You can't leave me like this."

"Save the energy for your performance. Right now, I need to give you some pointers. I watched you dancing with Matt, and your dance skills are a bit rudimentary. Do you know how to bump and grind?"

I was panting for breath as the promise of release faded.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Bertha sighed. "The bump and grind is a basic move for a stripper. Here, watch me."

Luckily, I'm a fast learner. The primary teaching method in my Jui Jitsu classes is for the instructor to demonstrate a move using one of his students and then have everyone repeat the action. I was always the first to master a new technique. The bump and grind were simple compared to breaking some two hundred pound man's hold, rolling them over, and putting them in a chokehold until they tapped out.

"Good work, Lyss. Now I'll show you twerking."

Bertha showed me several more moves before someone began pounding on the door and yelling that we'd been in the restroom forever. When we returned to our table, the last person in the second group of four Daisy Dukes contestants was finishing. They were only slightly better than the chubby girl in the first group. My confidence was already high but watching this woman's clumsy performance only pushed it higher.

Matt and Josh were enthusiastic about my Daisy Duke shorts. My muscle shirt had dried, so it wasn't quite as embarrassing. Josh got the owner's attention, and he came over to our table. Josh explained to Andy that I wanted to join the competition. The owner loved my Daisy Duke cut-offs and wasn't concerned that I was wearing a muscle shirt instead of the traditional flannel shirt. However, he was apprehensive about my age and immediately carded me. He apologized when he handed the card back. He gladly accepted the entry fee from Josh and said I would dance last.

I turned down Matt's invitation to dance when the band returned so I could plan my routine. The club's pole dancer returned to the stage, and I watched her act with newfound interest. There was no way I could attempt her elaborate pole dance moves without considerable practice; however, there were several simple moves in her floor routine that I could copy without suffering severe injury. I stayed seated and tensed the appropriate muscles to learn sexy moves like a body wave or a quick squat with my back to the pole. I noticed the pole dancer also used all the moves Bertha had shown me.

I had an idea for my routine when Andy announced that the last group of Daisy Duke contestants would perform. I was surprised that the three dancers in my group were a lot better than anyone in the first two groups. The woman before me was a tall busty redhead with freckles across her face and the tops of her bouncing breasts. She was at least a half-foot taller and thirty or more pounds heavier than me. She had an athletic body and danced with the confidence I lacked.

Somehow in the middle of her dance, the knot holding the sides of her flannel shirt together came undone. For the rest of her performance, she frequently exposed her bare breasts as she spun around. She did a final spin around the pole and flashed her mostly bare-ass cheeks. She ended on the floor with her thighs spread, showing her red thong peeking out the bottom of her skimpy Daisy Duke shorts. Josh leaned over and whispered that the redhead was a ruthless competitor and a regular winner.

There was a buzz when Andy introduced me as a representative of the LA Raptors Motorcycle Club. As soon as the owner left me alone on the stage, some troll yelled out an insult.

"Hey, little girl, does your mommy know where you are? Don't you think it's late for a child to be out of bed?"

With the spotlights in my eyes, I couldn't get a good look at the asshole. I leaned over and grabbed one of Bertha's water bottles. I carefully dumped the bottle on the front of my top. The top turned semitransparent again, and the crowd loved it.

I cupped my breasts and shouted, "Hey, asshole, do I still look like a little girl?"

Someone yelled for the troll to sit down and shut up. The DJ was kind enough to restart the song. I turned my back to the audience and did the bump and grind move Bertha had shown me. I felt a warm glow as the audience responded with cheers and catcalls. I did a walking spin around the pole before bending over, holding onto it for support. I did some vigorous twerking, which drove the crowd wild. I leaned my back against the pole and did a couple of squats with my legs spread. I didn't have any red panties peeking out from the edges of my cut-offs, just light brown, hairless skin. I stood up and cupped my breasts as if I were offering them to the audience. For my finale, I slid down the pole and ended with my legs spread wide. I was excited when the announcer said that I was one of the finalists.