I would like to acknowledge the gratifying response my first story received, so spent more time on this one, taking what I learned, incorporating the kind remarks from you, the readers.
This story is written as a possible springboard for follow on tales based around the characters introduced here. The motorcycle club is left vague, as there are so many large and small, that I did not want to unintentionally borrow a name. More detail may come later.
I want to profoundly thank ChancesAre for looking this over, and providing advice that greatly improved the story. A lesson in the value of good editing I won't forget.
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Cat joins the family
It was a nice spring evening, and Carol had the windows and the sliding door to the large deck open, not needing the air conditioning on. This was her favorite time of the year, this and fall, with the accompanying Halloween party. The smells and colors of nature seemed more vibrant and full. Not to mention that the boys started making more Club runs. They didn't notice the vibe, not at all, but the runs mostly wound into the mountains on the lazy two-lanes.
She sat down on the couch next to Mike, taking a sip of her first beer of the evening. It was Friday, and Mike had chosen to stay home, rather than go to the club house. He had Sports Center on.
"Honey, I know it's Logan's and Cat's night, but I would have liked to be there to see him give her her cut. It's a big step for him, and I would have loved to see the look on her face when he slides it on."
Mike took a swig of his Jack and Coke, and looked over at Carol, his Lady for the last six years. He knew she had wanted to be there, and truth to tell, so had he. "Yeah, I know, but it's their night, and the guys need their space to party and welcome Cat in right. We'd just put a damper on it, besides, Gunner has it under control," he gave a wry smile, "of course Jules is another thing.
Mike slid an arm around Carol's shoulders, and drew her in close to him so he could nuzzle her earlobe. "I had a thought," he murmured.
Carol slid around a little, to give him better access to her neck, and gave him a sidelong roll of the eyes. "That could be dangerous, but let's hear it." If it was what she thought it was, she was already reviewing movie picks in her head.
"You know Logan's more level headed than most, so I figure he will be bringing Cathy home tonight. You'll have a chance to welcome her this weekend, more privately. By the same token, I don't plan on listening to the two of them howling at the moon all night, either. So I'm thinking we should party a little ourselves. You spent all day working me up, now it's time to pay the piper. Kills two birds with one stone. We won't hear, or care, when Logan seals the deal, and hell, they might learn something." Mike returned to kissing under Carol's ear, and around her throat. The hand not holding his drink was rubbing lightly over her breasts through the light sweater she was wearing.
"Hmmm, pay the piper, the man says." Carol pulled away from Mike, turning so she could fully face him. "Sounds more like you want me to play the pipe so you can lay some pipe. It's nice to know my feminine wiles still work!" She grabbed Mike's glass and her empty bottle and went to the small bar for refills. "You keep on convincing me while I consider your offer, but I think it is movie night."
Mike grinned, as he watched Carol sway as she assembled his drink. Carol was a special woman, and he loved everything about her. She was five feet seven inches tall, to his own five foot ten, and had the prettiest deep brown hair that she kept in a loose braid, for work and riding that fell to just below her shoulders. At thirty four years old, Carol's body was softening a little from the lean girl she had been, but that suited Mike just fine. Her D cup breasts were starting to lose the battle with gravity, but they were putting up a hell of a fight. Her eyes were a lighter shade of brown than her hair, with flecks of gold at the edges if the light was right. The five or so pounds extra she was carrying just filled in her curves, giving her butt that little extra that drove him crazy.
Carol worked at the Hospital, now as a charge nurse, and she liked it. She was trauma trained, as were most of the staff. Being a military heavy area, the civilian hospital was a designated trauma center. For the last twenty years, the facility had earned a well respected reputation for not only its trauma teams, but long term care for returning wounded warriors. That's how she and Mike had met.
Carol handed Mike his drink, and sat back down, putting her arms around him. She rubbed the small scar below his belly through his tee shirt. The bullet had hit the bottom of his armor vest, and tumbled through his guts. That had been his last tour, and he laughed now about riding a damn tank, and getting shot while collecting Iraqi prisoners. At the time, it had been serious, and she had been on the team that put him back together, then kept seeing him as he went through therapy. They hadn't dated then, as he was struggling to get his life back, and she was dealing (poorly) with her own trauma. Her husband of four years had been KIA in Afghanistan, and she had poured herself into her work, helping those that made it back, instead of dealing with her loss. She had admired the soldier who stoically dealt with the pain and surgeries, pushing himself through the rehab sessions. He was supportive of the other soldiers going through it with him; especially the young kids, now losing limbs from IEDs and such.
The docs had done a pretty good job of patching him together in country, but he needed specialized care, and putting his intestines back into working order was going to take a while. There had been other damages too; a nick in the major artery, a piece of the bullet had hit a kidney, things like that. But some good doctors were working on ways to keep wounds like this from resulting in a permanent colostomy bag. When Carol first saw him he was heavily sedated and a wreck, but as time went by, his quiet courage and determination to get past it made her notice him. He was just a little taller then she was, but as he filled back out, he became as solid physically as he seemed mentally. Broad in the shoulders and chest, he didn't taper much down to the hips. He spent a lot of time in the gym, and his legs and arms showed it. He had a dusky complexion, befitting his Greek heritage, with tightly curled black hair, which he kept trimmed short, as he did his beard. He'd gotten a shaving exemption in the army, because he would have to shave five times a day to meet mil spec, as he called it. Abrams tanks were sealed for NBC warfare, so the brass bowed to the inevitable.
The other thing that made her notice him was his penis. One day she was doing followup after another surgery, and she walked into the exam room while he was lying nude on the exam table with just a sheet covering him from his pubes down. First she saw the thick hair covering his body that was growing back (they had shaved him prior to medevac, to look for any other wounds that might have escaped notice,) and then his noble reflexed, and the sheet tented and slipped. About average in length, she noted, but thick and solid as the rest of him. Mike turned a bright red, and tried to grab the sheet, and missed. Carol hadn't failed to appreciate that she was the cause of his erection, but at the time, she was slipping deeper into her own personal hell, and just got on with the job.
Then one fine spring day six years ago, Mike rode into the hospital parking lot on his Harley, walked into her boss's office, and told him he was taking her for a ride. Right the Hell now. Carol was a mess, not sleeping, losing weight, and on the ragged edge of a nervous breakdown. Rubin, her boss, had been trying to get her into therapy to deal with her own loss, but she was fighting it, so he called her to his office, and told her she had the rest of the week off. She tried stammering out her usual replies and denials, when the man in the corner said, "Look, sweet cheeks, you've been taking care of us for a long time. But it's obvious that you are losing your own fight, and now it's my turn."
She wound up in the locker room, changing into jeans and a loose shirt. She had never been on a motorcycle before, and was nervous when Mike sat her on the back of the Wide Glide he had at the time. Then it was off to the leather shop, where he bought her boots, chaps, a beautiful jacket, several tee shirts and a couple of sweat shirts, and a helmet. That had been a Wednesday, and by Saturday afternoon, they had wound through the mountains and even hit the coast and waded in the ocean. Each evening, they had returned to the house he was fixing up, and she had spent the night in the guest room. Mike never pressured her, never assumed, but that night as he fed her grilled shrimp and steak, she had broken down and spent the night soaking his clothes and couch with her tears. He waited a month, while her healing got under way, then met her in the hospital parking lot.
"Hi, Sweet Cheeks, want to go for a ride? I need an opinion of the rear seat of my new ride."
Mike had followed her home so she could change, then headed west on his '13 Street Glide. She loved the rear seat. She also loved holding onto his solid waist, or as he called them, 'Hundred mile hugs'. During his recovery he had become something of a fitness junky.
Along the way, she asked why he had a new bike. "Well, a couple of reasons. One, if you are going to be riding with me, I need more bike. Two, my son Logan is going to be moving in with me. His mother couldn't handle him anymore, and tossed his ass. So, he will need something to ride."
Carol was stunned, she didn't even know he had a kid, had never seen any family except his parents during his entire recovery. Wait, what was that? Riding with him? A thrill that she had forgotten that she could feel swept through her, followed by fear. Was she ready for this? Did she want this? For the next hundred miles she asked him about his son while she explored her own feelings.
