Trouble at the Bier Bar

It was the Friday after Labor Day and, thankfully, it was quite in The Bucket of Blood. Only ten of the guys from the motorcycle club, including myself, were in the bar that night. Fewer and fewer of the members were coming to the bar on the weekends, and I thought I knew the reason why.

When we had first formed the Buccaneer's Motorcycle Club, there would be, at least, fifty people in The Bucket of Blood every Friday and Saturday night. Now, most of the members, along with their wives and girlfriends, were avoiding the place on the weekends altogether.

It was around 10:00 PM, and I sitting alone, down at the end of the bar, when I heard a couple of motorcycles pull into the parking lot. Winger and Chops walked into the place about a minute later. They were both laughing as they said hello to Suzy, the barmaid, and ordered themselves a couple of beers. After being served, they walked down to the end of the bar to talk to me.

Winger said, "Evening, Prez." He continued, "Guess what? Another one, in a minivan, just pulled into the parking lot."

Chops grinned, showing off his fake gold tooth, and said, "How much do you want to bet that she's having 'car trouble', Prez?" as he used his fingers to make air quotes around the words "car trouble". Chops was a dentist, in real life, so the fake gold tooth was his "trademark look" for motorcycle club functions.

Winger laughed and chimed in, "Oh, yeah! More car trouble!" He continued, "And, I'll bet that her cell phone is dead, too!" He finished, "So, how much do you want to bet, Prez?"

I sighed and said, "Evening, guys. No bets from me tonight, thank you very much."

About two minutes later, a thirty-something, bleach-blonde woman walked into the bar. Sure enough, she walked up to Suzy and said, "Do you have a telephone in here that I can use? My car just broke down and my cell phone batteries are dead."

Winger snorted, and Chops almost choked on his beer when we heard what the thirty-something woman had just said.

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. I thought to myself, "Yes, it's another one." I reflected that none of us had seen this coming when we had first formed the motorcycle club, and, Butch, the owner of the bar, had changed its name from "The Village Tavern" to "The Bucket of Blood". First, it was the undercover state cops, the undercover FBI agents, and the undercover DEA agents coming into the bar, every other week, to try to buy crystal methamphetamine. Then, it was the undercover ATF agents coming into the bar, every month, to try to buy machine guns and assault rifles. Not long after that, it was all of the soccer moms coming into the bar, every weekend, to try to get gangbanged.

The thirty-something woman did have good features and a very good figure. But, as was usual with these women, she was wearing way, way too much "please fuck me" makeup and she was dressed really slutty. The woman had teased-out, shoulder-length, platinum-blonde hair and big, pretty, dark-brown eyes. As she also had thin, plucked, dark-brown eyebrows, I was positive that her natural hair color was not platinum-blonde. I estimated that she would have stood about 5'6" in her stocking feet, but she looked much taller in those slutty, clear-plastic 4" high-heeled sandals.

Those slutty sandals were really eye catchers. They were held on her feet by long, shinny-black satin ribbons, that criss-crossed their way up her shapely calves, almost to her knees. It was almost impossible to avoid looking at them.

As I looked the woman over, I thought to myself, "My god! Where in the world do these soccer moms ever find shoes that are that slutty?"

As the platinum-blonde woman talked on the phone, I studied her more carefully. Her lip gloss was bright red and had been applied to make her mouth look bigger than it actually was, and she was wearing way too much blush on her cheeks. The color of the nail polish on her inch-long fingernails, and on her toenails, matched the color of her lip gloss. Her eyelashes looked almost an inch long, so they were probably false, and her black eyeliner and dark-smoky eye shadow gave her the smoldering look that she had, obviously, worked very hard to create.

In addition to the slutty shoes, the woman was wearing a shinny-black satin, short-sleeved bolero jacket over a sheer-black top, with the hint of a black-lace bra underneath. A tight, mid-thigh length, black leather mini-skirt and shear-black, back-seamed, Cuban-heeled stockings completed her outfit. She had a figure that I guessed to be about 36-26-34 with nice, C-cup breasts. All-in-all, she looked to be a rather pretty soccer mom, whose current choice of clothing and makeup practically screamed the words "Look at me guys! I'm being a total slut tonight!".

I looked at the thirty-something woman's hands and saw that she was not wearing any rings on her fingers. Her only jewelry appeared to be a pair of small, gold stud earrings. The only accessory to her wardrobe was a very small, shinny-black purse.

I thought to myself, "Yep, this one's a married soccer mom, for sure!"

As I turned back to my beer, Psycho, my tall, willowy, redheaded girlfriend, walked into the bar. She said hello to Suzy and then came over to me. Psycho smiled, said hello to Chops and Winger, and kissed me on the cheek. She said in her husky, sexy voice, "Looks like we've got another customer at the bar tonight, Prez."

I sighed and answered, "Yes. Yes, it does." I continued, "Thankfully, there's only one of them tonight."

Psycho was wearing her denim "property patch" vest, skintight denim jeans, and a pair of 3" spiked-heel, black leather ankle boots. She had her own motorcycle and was, actually, a full-fledged, voting member of the club. She insisted, however, on wearing a property patch vest, because she said that it made us look a lot more like a real outlaw biker club. I suspected that Psycho had watched way too many Hell's Angels movies in her younger days.

Psycho laughed gaily and said, "Well, Prez, it's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it!" She continued, "Duty calls. I'm going to go over to talk to her." As she was walking away, she added, over her shoulder, "Since it's obvious that none of you guys are going to do it!"

I smiled to myself and shook my head as I watched Psycho's ass wiggle away in those skintight denim jeans. Her hips were slim, but she had a well-padded, apple-bottom ass, that I never got tired of watching. I loved Psycho dearly, but I also knew that the trouble that the club was having was partially her fault.

A couple of minutes later, Buck came back into the bar from the parking lot. He had gone outside to have a look around, right after the thirty-something woman had walked into the bar.

Buck walked over to me and said, "Our platinum-blonde's minivan is registered to an Eric Robert Williams and a Mary Anne Williams, from a couple of towns over. Mary Anne is 35-years-old, and her husband is 40-years-old. Do their names mean anything to you, Prez?"

I shook my head and answered, "No, I don't recognize the names, Buck." Winger and Chops shook their heads "no", as well.

Buck said, "Well, their other car is parked right across the street. I assume that Mr. Williams is the guy that's sitting behind the wheel right now, and that he's waiting for his wife."

I said, "I suspect that you're right, Buck." I continued, "Why don't you ask the other guys if they know anything about these people?"

Buck said, "O.K., Prez." Then he, along with Winger and Chops, walked to the back of the bar. The rest of the guys from the club were hanging out back there, next to the pool tables.

Buck was a private investigator in real life. From what I had seen, he appeared to be a damn good one. Buck had the connections to find out who the owner of the minivan was from the van's license plate number. He was also able to get the information about the minivan owner's other vehicles.

Psycho was still talking to the thirty-something woman when Buck came back over with Digger.

Both men were laughing and Digger said, "I know who she is, Prez." He continued, "Believe it, or not, she's my daughter's kindergarten teacher."

If I had been drinking my beer when Digger said that, I probably would have choked. As it was, I looked up at Digger in disbelief and said, "Are you kidding me?!"

Digger grinned and answered, "No, Prez. I'm not kidding you." He continued, "I didn't recognize her at first, because of the bleach-blonde hair, the slutty clothes, and all that makeup." He finished, "But, that's definitely her."

I said, "Do you think that she'll recognize you, Digger?"

Digger laughed and said, "Nah, no way, Prez! With this bandana on my head, the eye patch, the big gold earring, and my three-day old beard, my own mother wouldn't recognize me!"

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Then, I took a deep breath and said, "Great, our first kindergarten teacher!" I continued, "Do you guys believe this?!"

Buck and Digger just laughed and walked back to join the rest of the guys by the pool tables.

A few minutes later, Psycho walked over with the thirty-something woman. Our kindergarten teacher must have literally drenched herself in perfume that night, because I could smell her while she was still ten feet away from me.

Psycho said, "Margo, I'd like to introduce you to the club's president. We call him Prez, for short."

Psycho continued, "Prez, this is Margo." She finished, "Margo, Prez."

I force a smile and said, "So, Margo, what brings you to our friendly little biker bar this evening?"

Margo smiled innocently, like a damsel in minor distress, and said cheerfully, "Oh, I'm having car trouble. I'll be stuck here, for a few hours, until my boyfriend comes to pick me up." Margo didn't appear to be at all nervous about being stuck in a biker bar with us for a few hours.

I said, "Well, since you're going to be stuck here for a while, would you like to join us, in the back, to shoot some pool?"

Margo smiled brightly and said, "Oh, yes! Thank you! I'd love to!" She continued, "I don't want to have to just sit here at the bar all night, getting hit on by strangers."

I smiled at that, and Psycho and I walked Margo back to the pool tables, to introduce her to the rest of the club's members. In the back of the bar, four of the guys were playing bridge, and Hacker and A.J. were in the middle of a game of chess. Digger was watching the chess game intently, and Shark was busy reading the Wall Street Journal. The other three guys were talking politics.

Psycho told the guys that Margo wanted to shoot some pool, so the guys talking politics got up to join her. When Margo started playing pool with the guys, I pulled Psycho aside so that we could talk in private.

I told her, "That woman's real name is Mary Anne Williams. She's a 35-years-old, married, kindergarten teacher, that lives a couple of towns over from here."

Psycho smiled and said, "Well, I found out that she's on the pill, and that she's wearing black lace thong panties and a matching black lace garter belt!"

I laughed and said, "That's good! I'm thinking about making it a new rule that women are no longer going to be allowed into the clubhouse, unless they're wearing panties."

Psycho snorted, in a rather unladylike way, and said, "Yeah, right."

I said, "Hey, all of these horny women, coming in here every weekend to get gangbanged, are putting a real strain on the membership." I continued, "Did you know that the busiest night of the week at The Bucket of Blood is now Monday night? And, football season has barely even started yet! A lot of the guys are telling me that it's just too stressful for them to come in here on the weekends anymore." I finished, "Besides, if these women aren't going to provide us with a trophy for the wall, then we should throw them out and tell them not to come back again until they're wearing their panties. After all, there are plenty more of these horny soccer moms out there for us to gangbang every week."

It was Psycho's turn to sigh and look up at the ceiling. Then she looked me in the eye and said patiently, "You know, we've already talked about this."

I looked her in the eye, for a moment, and then looked away. I mumbled, "I know. I know."

Psycho was a beautiful, mature woman. She was tall, at 5'8", and willowy, with thick, curly, dark-red hair that cascaded halfway down her back. Psycho had wide-set intelligent green eyes, and the pale, ivory skin of a real redhead. I knew that Psycho was 40-years-old, but she could have passed for a much younger woman. Her hippie parents had named her Serenity, but we nicknamed her Psycho, because she was a psychologist by profession, and just a little bit on the nutty side.

Winger and Chops were playing pool against "Margo" and her partner Reds, when Psycho and I returned to the pool tables. Reds was looking at Margo's shapely ass as she leaned way over the table to make her next shot, but the rest of the guys just looked bored. All of us could see that her sheer-black stockings were thigh-highs, with three-inch opaque bands at the top, and that they were being held up by garter belt straps. Only, Reds, however, seemed to be taking any real interest in the view.

As they were playing, Reds said, "It's really warm in here tonight, Margo. Would you like me to hang up your jacket?"

Margo smiled and took a long sip from her drink. Then, she answered sweetly, "Why thank you, Reds. It is rather warm in here tonight, isn't it?"

When Margo slowly took off her jacket, we could all clearly see that she was wearing a black lace half-cup bra under her sheer-black top. Her perky nipples were clearly visible through the sheer-black top, jutting out proudly above the tops of the half-bra's cups. The bridge players and chess players glanced up, briefly, to look Margo over, then went back to their games.

I thought to myself, "This kindergarten teacher really is pretty hot, but the guys just aren't interested tonight." I reflected on what the guys had been telling me and I knew that it was true. We really had been having way too many gangbangs of late.

Psycho looked around at the guys in disgust and said in a loud, sharp voice, "Maybe we should all go play pool in the clubhouse." She continued loudly, "After all, we don't want the other customers to make Margo uncomfortable by staring at her."

Margo answered sweetly, "Oh, I'd love to go to your clubhouse!" She continued, "But, I have to wait here at the bar for my boyfriend."

Psycho smiled and answered, "That's O.K., Margo. Our clubhouse is right downstairs." She continued, "Suzy, the barmaid, will let us know when your boyfriend arrives to pick you up."

Margo answered excitedly, "Oh, cool! In that case, let's go!" She continued, "I really don't want to have all of those strangers staring at me." She finished, "I wore this special outfit tonight just for my boyfriend. I was going to meet him at a really hot dance club down in Philadelphia. That is, before my car broke down."

Reds chimed in, "Well, Margo, now you can wear your sexy outfit just for us, down in our very private clubhouse!"

Psycho motioned for everyone to get up, and led the way down the stairs to our clubhouse. Margo followed Psycho, and strutted her stuff down the steps in those eye catching stockings and slutty shoes. Most of the guys went downstairs reluctantly, and I saw that Hacker and A.J., our two newest prospective members, were hanging back and trying not to be noticed.

I frowned and said, "Come on, prospects. You know the drill. All prospects must attend and participate in all of the club's gangbangs."

Hacker and A.J. looked at each other and sighed. Without saying a word, they followed me down the stairs. I knew that our two prospects were getting worn out from all of the gangbangs, but the club had a reputation to live down to.

Our clubhouse took up the entire basement of the bar, and consisted of one very large room, a small office, and two small restrooms. There were a couple of pool tables in the middle of the large room, and an assortment of chairs and sofas scattered around the walls. We had our own wet bar in one corner, and all of the basement's small windows were covered for privacy.

I said to Margo, "It's not often that we can talk a hot girl like you into visiting our clubhouse. Can we take your picture with the gang, so that we can prove to people that a sexy girl like you has actually been down here with us?"

A couple of the guys snickered and laughed when I told that big lie, but they choked off their laughter when Psycho glared at them.

Margo laughed and squealed, "Oh, I'd love to have my picture taken with you bikers!" She continued, "Will you please make an extra print for me?"

We had Margo sit on a corner of one of the pool tables, while everyone else gathered around her. Some of the guys climbed up onto the pool table behind Margo, so that I could get a good, tight shot of all of us together.

After I had positioned the camera and set the self-timer I said, "Now, give us a big smile, Margo!" and walked over to get into the photograph.

After the photo, most of the guys went over to the bar to get a drink. Reds was the only guy that was really paying any attention to Margo, so Psycho walked over to them and said, "Come on, Margo. Let's play some nine-ball against these guys. I'll bet that we can beat them all night." She said to me, " Come on, Prez. It will be Margo and me against Reds and you. Let's go."

I grabbed a pool stick and walked over to the pool table. Psycho was a good player and as it turned out, so was Margo. The women beat Reds and me four games in a row.

As if on cue, Psycho said, "You guys really aren't trying very hard. Maybe we should make this game a little more interesting."

Reds smiled and said, "And, just what do you have in mind, Psycho?"

Psycho smiled back and said, "From now on, every time a team loses a game, each team member has to take off a piece of their clothing." She continued, "Shoes and jewelry don't count."

Margo squealed and clapped her hands, "Oh, cool! We're going to play Strip Pool! I've never done that before! You bikers are so naughty!"

We started the next game and Psycho sank the nine-ball on her second shot. Reds and I looked at each other and we both took off our denim vests, the one's that had our club's colors on the back.

Psycho and Margo stood together and giggled as they watched us. Psycho said to Margo, "These guys are no challenge at all, are they?"

During the second game, Psycho didn't sink anything on the break and it was Red's turn to shoot. He made a beautiful combination shot and sank the nine-ball.

As Reds and I looked on expectantly, Psycho turned to Margo and said, "Well, it looks like even these guys can get lucky once in a while."

Psycho smiled and removed her denim "property patch" vest. She was wearing a tight, white crop top under her vest, that showed off her slender 33-25-29 figure and cute, little A-cup size breasts. Her nipples were erect against the thin fabric of her crop top and it was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra.

Margo smiled and slowly removed her sheer-black top. Her breasts were capped with small, rosy-pink areola and her nipples were thick, and jutted out from her beautiful C-cup breasts about 3/8 of an inch. She stuck out her chest and posed proudly for all of us to see.

A few of the guys applauded when they saw Margo standing there in her sexy half-cup bra and, finally, came over to watch the game. Margo smiled and strutted her stuff for them, as the guys gathered around the pool table.

We started the third game and it took Reds only three shots to sink the nine-ball.

Margo shrugged her shoulders and smiled. Then, she reached behind her back to unhook her bra. Psycho stopped her and said, "The guys can already see your pretty nipples, Margo. Why don't you take off your leather skirt, instead?"