I was walking home along Route 39 out by the chicken farms and I was pissed. Earlier, Steve and I had been making out at the lake. I was more than good with a little kissy-face with him. What I wasn't good with was Steve suddenly whipping his thing out and pushing my head down on it. A fist to his balls ended his romantic evening plans. Furious, I grabbed my purse and stormed out of his car.
Steve just left me there. He even had the nerve to call me a bitch and flip me the bird as he drove off, leaving me alone in the woods.
I was pissed enough that I felt pretty good about myself for clocking him, at least for the first hour. But the lake was about twelve miles out of town as the crow flies. It was far enough for couples on the make to find some privacy. But also far enough that I realized I'd likely be all night walking home. I wasn't ready for a hike. I'd been on a summer date, so I'd worn heels, a short skirt, and a halter top. I'd chosen the wrong shoes for country roads and had the wrong look for a slender young woman walking all alone at night.
Most people just drove on by. Sure, I got hooted at a few times and offered a ride by a couple of good ol' boys in a ten-year-old Silverado, which I politely demurred four or five times while they drove slowly alongside me and told me how hot I was while informing me in detail precisely how manly they weren't. I kept my eyes forward, my feet moving and my mouth shut until they gave up. At least they did give up; I was scared for a while they wouldn't.
A middle-aged couple in a Dodge Caravan and a bunch of Jesus stickers called me a slut and asked me if my father knew where I was before speeding off. Believe me, if my cell phone hadn't died, I'd have called my parents long ago. They wouldn't have minded coming and getting me for something like this. Unfortunately, I also knew they wouldn't come looking for me for a long time. I was a high school graduate headed for Polytechnic. They didn't mind me staying out late so much anymore. In fact, they kind of expected me to.
But my feet were getting sore, and my misery rising with every fresh quarter-mile when I heard the low guttural roar of Harleys behind me. Bikers, I thought, suddenly afraid. The Disowned had a chapter near here, and they were scary. I became even more scared when I heard them throttle down and the bumpity-stump idle of big v-twins at my side. I stole a glance to see what trouble I was in. I was never so relieved as when I recognized Gwen.
I had met Gwen when I started waitressing at the Rob's Diner after school. Yeah, she was rough. She was six feet tall. Tattoos covered her belly and arms. Moreover, she was patched, or close as a woman could come to being patched into the Disowned. She was also tall, pretty, and wore her hair in a long, blond ponytail, and rocked a leather vest over a shortie t-shirt, high leather boots, and tight jeans. She pulled up next to me and shut it off. Two of her sisters were with her, similarly dressed and tatted. They looked at me like they could not understand why their girlfriend had stopped. But Gwen didn't care and said, "Baby girl, what are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"
"Getting away from the wrong boy," I replied, my eyes shifting to the other women.
"Is there such a thing as the right boy?" laughed a short, buzz-cut brunette with an enormous chest and full hips and skin the color of cinnamon toast.
"Paulie, just 'cos you don't like dick don't mean the rest of us feel that way," said Gwen with a twinkle in her eye.
"Gwen girl, I know you like mine," she said, pointing at the bulge in her jeans. The other women laughed, but my mind was spinning because I had been so certain Paulie was a girl. I mean, even her voice was feminine. Only girls didn't bulge there.
Unless... the truth started to sink in.
"Honey, we all like it now and then," said the third woman, a petite redhead with broad freckles and a leather top that showed a little cleavage, even if she wasn't any bigger in the chest than I. "Just we like your cock a lot more, Paulie."
"Julie, you love to be ridden more than almost anybody," said Paulie. "But let's leave this fresh thing alone, or we're going to scare her off. This girl knows Gwen, not us. She might get the idea we're bad girls." They laughed at that.
"We're trouble, alright," said Gwen. "But not the kind of trouble Donna here just escaped. She's had a hard night; let's at least make it easier for her." She looked right at my legs and shook her head. "Those heels weren't made for walking. I bet your calves are sore."
"You have no idea," I said, relieved that I was about to get a ride home.
"Hop on," she said, nodding at the seat behind her. "Just keep those pretty legs off the side pipes. They're hot and I don't want to hear you scream."
The other women all shared a laugh at that, but I headed on over and let Gwen help me climb onto her seat. Then she swung her leg over the saddle, pushed off, hit the starter and we were off.
Harleys are loud. Maybe it's a safety feature because the sound lets everyone know you're coming. They vibrate. They vibrate a lot, especially at idle. I really felt Gwen's motor as I scooted in close and wrapped my arms around her belly to hold on. She shot off and the wind blew through my medium brown locks, and I let them flow out behind me. I felt the rumble loud and strong, the wind on my face, and the rush of the air and the world passing by thrilled me. I'd ridden on the back of a motorcycle only once, and it had been fun, but this was more primal, more urgent, and I began to relax and feel it.
Plus, the vibrations of the v-twin motor were starting to get through to me too. I liked the sensation more than I wanted to admit. I didn't mind when the women didn't ride straight into town. Instead, they turned off out by Miller's Dairy, and back into a trailer park I knew by reputation. All three pulled up next to a double-wide and shut off.
"Don't mind if we stop and have a couple of drinks, do you?" asked Gwen. "After all, it's a Friday night, and while you may have been in a hurry to get home earlier, you don't look in such a hurry now."
"Fine with me," I said, pretending not to be nervous, which I was but also excited. I'd never hung out with patched girls before. It felt very different from the usual night at the bowling alley followed by a grope-n-go at the Lake. I liked kissing boys, I really did, but not enough to give them what they wanted, because they wanted everything. I was no virgin, but boys seem to figure that once you had done a thing, you had to do it every time with them, no matter how you felt. Girls new better, even the wild ones like Gwen and her friends. They pulled beer, wine bottles, and some groceries out of their saddlebags and even gave some to me to carry as we marched inside.
"Is this where you live?" I asked.
"Where we all live," said Paulie. "This is my trailer and these are my sisters. We're just having a quiet night in like the good girls we are." There was some giggling at that.
Julie brushed up against me with a grin and said, "We like quiet sometimes. We have an evil reputation. It isn't fair."