The Biker Ch. 02

Chapter 2 Conferencing

(Editorial assistance provided by Phil Anderer)

Layla departs the suite starting her day working conference related business. She's dressed in business casual and floats out the door like she doesn't have a care in the world. A few minutes later Jack steps onto the elevator. The plan for his day is a bit more exciting than what Layla has in store.

Jack starts the day with a massage in the resort spa. Brianna is her usual good natured and sexy self. 'That woman has a pair of hands,' he muses. 'She knows how to use them in ways he didn't think possible.' Loose as a goose and feeling fantastic, he finds Loretta parked out front of the resort. Jack lights her fire and rolls west toward Daytona International Airport. The massive truck crawls through the gate on the general aviation side and stops in Jack's hanger. Lana is on the ramp, fueled and ready to fly.

Jack pre-flights his bird, straps in, and gets clearance to launch out of the Daytona area and points her west, climbing to Angels 24 cruising at 400 knots. Four hours later he slips Lana into Biggs Army Airfield near El Paso, TX.

Three Fed boys load a pallet in the hold and Jack continues the mission to Chihuahua INTL in Mexico. The mission tasks him to deliver a pallet of documents to the Federales waiting in a secluded part of the airfield. Jack is glad the flight terminates here at the airport and not out in the middle of the desert on some rough unimproved strip. He is so comfortable with it he doesn't even unlock the cabinet behind his seat which holds his carbine. Something he has done several times on previous contracts.

Jack greases her in at Chihuahua INTL Airport and taxies to the far side of the field. He opens the cargo bay and turns the shipment over to the uniformed soldiers/police. Jack doesn't care who gets the cargo, he just wants it off his plane after he gets a signature for it. Who signs doesn't matter as three airframe mounted cameras are recording the activity from different angles, one of Jack's CYA demands in his contract. Ten minutes later he turns and burns on the reverse course back to Daytona.

Jack makes these runs simply because they pay so well. He is beyond worrying about whether it was right, wrong, moral or immoral. He enjoys flying and someone is going to, so he figured...why not him. His hard stops are weapons and drugs.

He is not politically motivated as it doesn't matter to him due to both sides being corrupt as hell, the uniparty. He isn't much for being politically correct either. He just doesn't give a fuck what anybody thinks, except those he cares about. All outside influence can just shut the fuck up about whatever their current global or personal issues are. Jack lives his life on his terms.

Lana eases into Daytona, smooth as silk. Jack taxies her to the hangar. He steps onto the tarmac and waves to the ground crew, leaving Lana in their capable hands. He jumps in Loretta and together they plow through the 5pm traffic back over the bridge to Daytona Beach and into The Riders Rest. Jack parks her out front and cruises across the lobby and into the bar, a cool $80K flush after expenses.

Sitting in his reserved seat at the end of the bar, Jack nurses a tumbler of bourbon over ice...with a beer in the bottle chaser. Looking around, slowly, examining his familiar escape, he catches a glimpse of his appearance in the bar mirror. Staring down the reflected persona, a sly grin manages to cross his face. He studies the rugged imposter intently, sitting slovenly in such a swank environment while swilling liquor and outwardly spitting in the face of conventional norms. He swaddles himself in contentment. Asking himself silently, 'How many times have I sized up the villain in that reflection,' not particularly searching for anything. Rhetorical, of course, but he answers himself silently, 'Too many to count and not enough to care... you're such an asshole Jack.'

The commotion of people flowing in and out of the bar causes him to take a deep breath and exhale slowly, reveling in the fact that he simply chooses not to participate in the drama that is everyone else's world. Particularly, he no longer understands not so much why, but how Layla does it.

Again, observing the smug bastard in the mirror, dressed in his most comfortable attire, he raises his glass, nodding in a tip of the cap sort of way, before downing the liquid fire that scorches his tongue and throat, settling in a warm glow that radiates through his frame and nervous system.

No one in the bar, patron, employee, or passerby takes note of the Biker sitting in his reserved seat as is his daily norm. They don't notice but most are aware he's present.

The only person that offers an acknowledgement to him is the resort manager Manny, who taps his right hand to his forehead, as if giving a sloppy salute. Manny was "Captain" Jack's crew chief on his medevac bird in Vietnam. They have been together ever since. Jack trusted Manny to keep his Huey flying for 2 tours through a shit awful war, and he now trusts him with management of the Rider's Rest Resort. Aside from their monthly meeting to go over the books, Jack stays out of Manny's sandbox, allowing him to oversee the operation of the resort. Jack nods a subtle 'sup' in his direction. He likes it that way. His mantra, 'You see me...but of course you really don't!'

Jack doesn't often reflect on all the experiences that have come to pass in his life. The fact remains, regardless of the genre he currently represents, he is one of the most successful titans of the business world...and yet only a select few know this little tidbit.

Leaning back on his bar stool, taking a long pull on his bottle of suds, he notices a demure woman out of the corner of his eye, sauntering up to the bar. As she takes in the unkept rabble taking up space at the end of the bar...she thinks to herself, 'Good God, they allow anyone in this place' and promptly moves a few bar stools down before asking the bartender for a glass of wine.

She continuously side-eyes the Biker, wary and ready to react decisively if he should move to grab her and ravage her on top of the bar in front of her family and friends, as bikers are known to do of course! She fingered her little bottle of pepper spray she keeps tucked in her purse.

Jack has seen it all before and without letting on, chuckles to himself, wanting desperately to lean towards her and say, 'BOO!' but he does nothing of the sort. Instead, he simply taps his right index finger twice on his coaster, and the barkeep gives the woman her glass of wine and says to her, 'Compliments of the house madam,' with a knowing smile.

Baffled, it took a second for her to speak. "What did you say, sir?" The bartender repeats his words, to which she replies, "But who...why?" The barkeep just says 3 words, "The Captain, miss," and returns to cleaning his liquor bottles.

Jack, completely straight faced, shrugs at the woman when she looks in his direction while turning to go tell her family how she scored a free wine for no reason whatsoever.

'Well enough of these antics,' he thinks to himself, and gets up from the bar, tossing a fifty to the bartender. Turning, he stops dead in his tracks. A shiver runs up his spine, not believing the vision before him.

Coming across the lobby and gliding into the bar is just about the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen; well not seen in, 'God, how many years has it been?' She looks so familiar, yet a bit of age on her, as much age as someone can acquire in 4-5 years.

It has been that long since he witnessed this angel crossing the stage at the U of Texas, graduation gown flowing to gather her rewards for working hard and studying to be the best...as he recalls, her graduating with a BSM/MBA in 3 years.

Jack sits back down and observes her magnificent glide up to a group of people, as if she was riding on air.

There was no mistaking her, the long curly blonde hair gathered high on her head, displaying her incredible neck; those dark glasses framing her blue eyes, the slimness of her athletic frame, perfect ass curving into legs, firm and smooth..."Laura!"

Jack notices the stockings wondering, 'Thigh highs or garters?' shivering a little, imagining the thigh highs...with the heels, not 'do-me spikes', but conservative enough for a social setting and high enough to exploit her sexy calves and the sweet curve of her gorgeous ass.

The erotic dark seams of her sheer hose split her calves as she twirls in her girly fashion while flashing her sweet smile for her coworkers. They shower her with compliments for looking so fashionable, as well as adorable.

Jack makes a mental note to quiz Layla about Laura, as he hasn't kept up with personnel since giving her control of the company 5 years ago. He recalls Layla talking about a renovation to an executive suite at HQ with Laura's name somehow attached to it.

Speaking of angels, Jack notices Layla sweeping out of the executive elevator and passing through the bar towards the group of her employees. She rounds the expansive bar and side-eyes Jack with her cute sexy grin and a wink of her left eye.

Flashing her short black cocktail dress, no hose, as she can pull it off with those legs, and black heels that make her sweet ass look more perfect than it is.

Jack raises his glass to salute his wonder woman as she charges into battle again. He watches intently, as she and her friends...well employees and co-workers, meet for drinks and chit chat, prior to their customary conference kick-off dinner.

He shakes his head, 'Always on it, such an amazing find.' Thinking back to when he first met her, so young and eager to make her way up the ladder. Now here she is, an elegant, confident, and incredibly beautiful woman of 38, doing the things she loves and living her best life. His eyes not leaving her, he watches as she approaches the group, her big smile, greeting each as if they are her most personal friend.

Jack observes Brianna, one of the servers working this evening, approach the group and take their drink order. Brianna, a short sweet beauty in her own right, has worked at the resort for 3 years. She works part-time jobs at the Riders Rest resort because she dislikes that feeling of being in a rut that most people drop into when working the same boring job for years on end. Her specialty is making Jack smile... whatever it takes!

Plus, she enjoys the interactions with her varying customers; the morning coffee crowd as a barista in the resort café; as a masseuse in the resort spa; and as a bar/lounge server in the evenings. She cobbles together a long week and is handsomely rewarded for her efforts.

Brianna takes their drink order then crosses the lobby, sliding up beside Jack before giving the drink call to the bartender.

In the way that only she can do, Brianna turns quickly and helicopters her dirty blonde ponytail, because she knows Jack thinks it's cute. She smiles and winks at the Biker, saying in her low sultry voice, "Well Jack, are you happy Layla is here?"

Jack grins at Bri, his pet name for her, and slyly reaches down and pats her ass saying in a whisper, "You know I am, sweetpea."

He looks deeply into her blue eyes and says, "Fabulous massage this morning... I think I'll keep you around for a while," and slips her a $100 tip after squeezing her ass cheek hard. "You make sure that group has a nice time this evening baby girl. I'll see you in the morning for my latte." He then lightly blows her a kiss.

Brianna smiles and winks. She leans in close, placing her hand on top of his thigh. Squeezing hard she whispers back at him, "Hydrate Papi!" She licks his cheek and gathers her tray. She definitely knows how to push his buttons as well as when to. Wiggling her ass at Jack, she quickly delivers the group's drinks, assuring them she will provide for all their needs throughout the evening. Jack sighs and watches her sweet ass dance away thinking, 'Lord, that lil' girl is so hot!'

Shifting his gaze back towards the group causes him to sit up straight. Strolling up to the Management INC group is none other than Jocelyn. Jack never considered she would be attending the conference, being new to the company, but here she is. That sweet little brown damsel in distress he rescued on I35 south of Dallas around 2 months ago. She is dressed in a conservative black skirt, salmon colored blouse and short heels, looking like an innocent young girl out of her element. Jack knows better, 'Jesus!'

Jack flashes back to the scene at Strokers and an electrical pulse runs up his spine. 'Holy shit,' he sighs. 'What a wild night!' Jocelyn being in Daytona throws a wrench into the works for the week for Jack. Layla, Laura, Jocelyn, Brianna...Jack is up to his ass in ass, and he can think of no place he would rather be!

After a few minutes of small talk, Layla steers the group towards the dining room to get their working meal started. Jack sees Layla place her hand delicately on Laura's lower back. He also notes the way they seem to lock eyes while she escorts her young charge along very sensually. Layla throws a glance over her shoulder at Jack and smiles before disappearing into the dining room.

Upon seeing Layla glance towards the bar, Jocelyn mimics her and also glances. She is staring eye to eye with Jack...aka...'The Captain.'

Jack throws up a halfhearted wave/peace sign combo thinking, 'Layla...Jocelyn...oh yes fuck I'm in trouble!' Jocelyn smiles, more so at recognizing Jack than saying hi. She files into the dining room with the group.

The immediate thoughts that careen around inside his head are quite juicy and imaginative. Fighting off the images, he shakes his head, again looking at the lucky SOB in the mirror. Impressed with his good fortune, he nods slyly, and heads for the door.

Seconds later Lucille's deep throaty roar rumbles through the lobby. Jack hammers her throttle and feeds out the clutch. The big beauty responds accordingly by laying down a thick rubber patch, launching north on Florida route A1A for the evening cruise.

Lucille consumes A1A in her typical fashion. Grabbing every inch of asphalt in front of her, processing it, and spitting it out her tail end. She amazes Jack in that such a big girl can move so fast and be so nimble.

Tired of the constant shifting and lights, Jack steers her through Ormond and onto I95 north. Lucille shimmies her ass a bit before biting hard, causing her speedometer to climb as fast as her tachometer. Jack grins thinking, 'That's my baby!'

Careening thru dusk at 95, Jack drops her into 6th gear and Lucille settles delightfully into that sweet spot of vibrationary drone which melds man and machine into one. It's a gorgeous night; early spring and well hey, it's Florida. Lucille runs as if she has autopilot, allowing Jack's thoughts to wander a bit.

Thinking of Layla and how special it is to have her at the resort for at least a week. He thinks of how much time she spends at his ranch in Dallas, convenient for her due to the corporate office location.

A smile crosses his face as his mind pictures his sexy cowgirl driving the herd, while barking orders to the hands...and her ever present blue heeler, Shooter, the best cattle dog that ever existed, doing his loyal duty which comes to him naturally. Quite a pair!

Even though Layla is working this week Jack savors their evenings and mornings. She possesses the ability to read his mood and intuitively adjusts her approach for both their comfort and pleasure. It's that trait which makes her so successful in her chosen profession.

Like a game of chess, Jack enjoys the parlay of their interactions. To experience her transformations from hard executive to sexy vixen is incredibly titillating. From the second she sweeps through the door, and he takes her in his arms, their time is spent in the most sensual entanglements one can ever imagine.

Layla wrestles free from his grasp, slipping away to reappear in a silky sheer negligee which melts Jack instantly. The type that emphasizes her gorgeous figure!

'Where does she come up with those?' he wonders. Or his favorite, thigh high stockings, 4-inch heels and that's it! 'How many pairs of those stockings has he destroyed?' his final thought before returning to the task at hand. It's amazing how fifty miles can disappear so easily.

Laughing to himself, Jack down shifts Lucille to facilitate the off ramp for the return trip to Riders Rest. Lucille growls as if to say, 'Alright, I'll play it your way...this time!' Jack slings her up the on-ramp and merges into traffic on I95 south, easily hitting 110 before backing her down. He mimes, 'Easy now girl!'

Lucille wants to run it but it's too pleasant of an evening to have to gap a Florida state trooper and all the drama that entails. Even with his get out of jail free card, it's too nice an evening to screw it up. Cutting back through Ormond and into Daytona Beach, Jack maneuvers Lucille into her designated space, right in front of the resort entrance.

He gives her a minute to cool down while studying the silly logo some advertising agency sold him when he invested in the resort. A Biker on an old pan-head which is on a surfboard riding on a wave and then the words in script, The Riders Rest!

'What the hell was I thinking when I agreed to that?' he questions himself! Jack shuts Lucille off and tosses the keys to the valet, who gently tucks her away for the night in Jack's personal garage.

Jack enters the private elevator leading up to the penthouse, wondering how Layla's working dinner went. The elevator opens onto the foyer. Jack does a sweep seeking his woman, even checking the balcony. Layla loves that balcony; enormous in square footage, it wraps halfway around the penthouse with wide open views of the Atlantic. From 25 floors towering over everything, the east facing view of the ocean and north and south up Daytona beach is stunning.

Jack notices Layla's black dress lying on the dressing chair and her heels on the floor. He quickly changes into slacks, loafers, and an untucked button up shirt and sets out for the bar. 'Should be hopping,' he thinks, as the elevator drops rapidly.

He steps out into the bar and is confronted with the onslaught of music and quite a crowd. Seems like the conference attendance is big this year.

Securing his personal reserved spot, Jack surveys the crowd. The bartender serves him up his usual with a knowing nod. Jack winks and gives a wave to Bri, getting back a 'sup' and a smile. She is very busy hustling drinks to the partiers but cruises by and says, "Whoa daddy, you clean up nice!" With her best helicopter she slaps him in the shoulder with her blond pony and slides away disappearing in the crowd. Aside from Layla, Brianna is the only woman that gets to play like that with Jack, mostly. 'I owe that sweet thing a spanking,' he notes and files that one away for the future.

The crowd bounces on the dance floor in time with some funky jam from the 90s. His eyes lock onto his special group, easily picking out Layla on the dance floor. Flashing her ever-present smile, dancing and playing with her staff. They all look like they are enjoying themselves.

Jack takes special note of Laura, dancing seductively close to Layla. Her hips move smoothly enhancing the appeal of her pale blue sundress and bare dress sandals strapped to her feet. He notes that William and Jocelyn are on the dance floor, locked in their own seductively rhythmic fun. Jocelyn has on the same outrageously sexy yellow sundress she wore that day in Dallas. Jack smiles, 'Amazing that it survived that night!'

Layla is wearing a simple white sundress, which Jack loves her in, displaying a delicious contrast next to her gorgeous tanned skin. 'God, I'd like to buy dinner for the individual that invented the sundress,' he chuckles to himself. Jack intently watches their interaction... thinking, 'Hmmm... am I seeing what I am seeing?'