Alex had cleared space on her busy calendar in order to leave work early. Clay had recently issued orders to meet him at a biker bar in the San Fernando Valley. She was not accustomed to taking orders, especially from an aggressive male, but there are exceptions to everything.
Three nights ago, her relationship with a fellow realtor changed dramatically. Clay, a fierce competitor and office flirt, had relentlessly pursued her for the past two years, trying everything he knew to get into her pants. He dogged her when she was married, pouncing on every opportunity to seduce her, but Alex, a committed and faithful wife, consistently rebuffed his advances. He eventually backed off when her husband of ten years died from lung cancer. It took Alex a year before she was ready to date. Vinny, an East Coast mobster she met on a flight from Logan to LAX, helped her shed her sexual repression, introducing her to hot sex. He lavished attention on her until family business called him back to Boston. Clay seized the opportunity and filled the void, finally scoring after two years of trying.
Last Saturday night, Clay had engaged Alex in phone sex, getting her to remove her clothes and fondle herself. The erotic dialogue reached a crescendo, leaving Alex breathless, vulnerable to his advances. Unknown to her, he was parked just outside her Hollywood Hills home, waiting for the right time to make his move. He called her to the window and proved he was only seconds away. He threatened to kick in her door, if she didn't cooperate. For the next four hours, Clay ravaged her body, fucking her with wild abandon. Before he left, she endured numerous earth shaking orgasms, the hottest oral sex of her life, culminating with two bouts of female ejaculation.
Before marriage, she had endured awkward sex with a boy friend in college, and a one-night stand with a biker. The biker planted the seeds for wild sex, but while married, she experienced only friendship and kindness. She never reached orgasm with her husband. He was a sensitive, doting husband, considerate and responsible, but lacked the animal magnetism she so dearly loved. She craved the primitive passions of an alpha male. That's where Vinny and Clay stepped in.
Late Saturday night, after fucking her senseless, Clay left a note on her pillow. It read, "Meet me at Hog Heaven on Sepulveda, Tuesday night, eight sharp. Wear something sexy." She could read between the lines. Either be there or face dire consequences.
Alex soaked in the Jacuzzi, racking her brain about what to wear for her date with Clay. Wear something sexy, the note read. She had been to a biker bar only once, and that was before her marriage to Tom. That's where she met Ben, the burly biker who introduced her to wild sex. She feared wearing something sexy to a sleazy biker bar might turn ugly. Clay, a physical specimen with tree trunk legs and arms of steel, would be there for her, so she hoped. But what to wear, that was the question.
Alex stood in the middle of her spacious walk-in closet, scanning her options. After considerable deliberation, she decided on a short black skirt that sensually clung to her tone thighs and pouting ass. As she walked, her fleshy, well-toned ass subtly rippled under the clingy material of the tight skirt, accentuated by her favorite high-heeled sandals. She chose a light blue bra that complemented her pale blue blouse. The D-cupped bra strained to hold her full breasts, Alex's best feature. She didn't have a bad one, but her big, natural tits, commanded the most attention. She pirouetted in front of the floor length mirror, admiring her ass and legs. Not bad for a thirty-five year old widow. The provocative attire concerned her, so she chose a short black leather jacket to provide a hint of modesty. When she bent forward, the soft cotton blouse parted slightly, hinting at the depth of her cleavage. She was sure to attract leers form the patrons at Hog Heaven.
She savored a glass of wine before making the short trip over the hill, arriving a bit early, hoping to catch Clay before entering the biker bar. She nervously glanced about the parking lot, looking for Clay's car. It was dotted with Harleys, pick-up trucks, and a few muscle cars. Her Lexus stuck out like a sore thumb. Five minutes after arriving at the seedy bar, Clay's dark blue Mercedes pulled into the half-full lot. He emerged wearing jeans, motorcycle boots, and a sleeveless vest, showing off his powerful arms. She moved quickly, catching Clay before he entered the side door.
"Hey, Clay."
The tall muscular realtor, posing as a hard ass biker, turned and grinned. "Alex, your right on time."
"Eight sharp, just as you requested."
"Let me look at you."
Alex pivoted, providing her demanding lover with a good look. "What do you think?"
"Outstanding. Of course, I know what you've got."
"And?"
"Fucking fabulous. Come on, I've a few friends I'd like you to meet."
The jukebox filled the raucous bar with the sounds of "Hotel California," Alex's favorite. She loved the Eagles, even though they were before her time. The bar was packed with thirsty bikers, but only one of the three pool tables at the rear of the joint was in play. Clay introduced her to a couple of buddies at the bar, then moved to one of the available pool tables at the rear. He racked the balls, she broke.
A couple of burly bikers challenged the table, so Alex deferred to the men, watching them play from a tall bar stool near center table. Her short skirt provided the players, and a couple of heavily inked bikers at a near-by table, with a clear shot of her silky smooth thighs. Their leers turned her on, as long as Clay provided the necessary security. She loved the attention. Clay's formidable physique was her security blanket. She felt protected.
Two longhaired bikers at a near-by table challenged the winner, so Clay teamed up with Alex. After a couple of beers, she shed her leather jacket, and threw herself into the game. Several more rowdy boozers gathered at nearby tables, more interested in Alex's sensual moves and voluptuous body, than her skills at pool. She felt the eyes of the men devouring her flesh, leering at her shapely legs and big tits. She knew that when she bent forward to take aim at the cue ball, her cleavage was on display. As she moved about the table, she felt the leers of the men, savoring the sensual bounce of her pouting ass and voluptuous breasts. The game was close, but Alex scratched on the eight ball.
"Sorry, Clay. Pool's not my thing."
"You did good."
"Thanks, but I need a break. The beer is getting to me."
"The restrooms are over there, near the jukebox."
"I'll be right back."
Alex made her way passed the jukebox, feeling every eye savor her hot body. She let out a sigh of relief when she reached the women's restroom. It was small, two stalls. A stringy haired, bleached blond woman in jeans and sweats stood before a cracked mirror, splashing her face with water.
Alex took care of business before heading for the washbasin. The blond was drying her hands when she approached.
"You shouldn't dress like that."
"What?"
"You're inviting trouble."
"I'm with a friend."
"Won't help! Last week a woman was raped in that stall." The blond pointed to the stall she had just used.
The hard-looking blond left, shaking her finger at Alex. Fear suddenly gripped her. She felt trapped. After washing up, she returned to the pool table, motioning to Clay.
"I'm nervous. We need to leave."
"Another couple of games. Just relax, everything will be fine." Clay was drunk, his slurred speech and cavalier attitude were not reassuring. After downing her third beer, she reluctantly returned to the bathroom, desperately needing relief. If the overhead window were bigger, she would have crawled out, leaving this creepy joint in the dust. She splashed water on her face, straightened her attire, and exited the restroom. Looming in front of her was a stocky brute, shaved head, goatee, and huge arms splashed with ink.
"Say, aren't you Clay's friend?"
"Yes."
"You play a mean game of pool," he said. His eyes traveled over her body, making her skin crawl.
"Not really. I scratched on the eight ball."
"Haven't we all."
"How do you know Clay?" she asked, trying to break the tension.
"We go way back. He once dated my former girl friend."
"Oh."
"He took advantage of her while I was drunk, kissing her where we now stand."
Alex was tongued tied. She certainly wasn't going to defend Clay. Finally she said, "Sorry about that." It was a lame comment, but she didn't know what to say.
"How about returning the favor?"
"What?"
"How about a kiss."
"That's out of the question. Clay is my date."
