Young Widow Meets The Marquis

Clay, a fellow realtor at London House, the most successful real estate agency in West Los Angeles, had last Tuesday lured Alex to a biker bar in the San Fernando Valley. The evening began well for the coworkers, playing pool and mixing it up with some of Clay's buddies. His imposing physical presence provided her with a feeling of security, his athletic build and rippling muscles serving as an effective deterrent to unwanted advances.

As the evening wore on, Clay became increasingly drunk, leaving her to fend for herself. Todd, one of Clay's buds, had accosted her, shoving her into the bar's seedy restroom, and evened a score. Clay had hugged and kissed Todd's old lady a few months back, now he returned the favor. Todd kissed, hugged, and dry humped Alex in the woman's restroom, just stopping short of actually fucking her. It was her first taste of public sex.

The restroom attack, combined with Clay's drunkenness, left Alex feeling increasingly vulnerable, so she ducked out the side door and jumped in her car. Before speeding off, Todd appeared at the driver side window, waving her forgotten leather jacket. "Damn," she blurted. In her haste to leave, she had left it behind. He wanted a ride home, but more urgently, she needed to escape the sleazy biker bar before Clay and his buddies came looking for her. Todd had earlier kept his word and exhibited some restraint, engaging only in what he called "hugs and kisses." It turned out to be much more intense than hugs and kisses, but he revealed a hint of honesty. She felt she could trust him.

Outside his apartment, Todd grabbed Alex's keys and insisted she come in for coffee. Her driving was erratic, so he convinced her to sober up before hitting the road. Unknown to her, the coffee was spiked with a generous amount of brandy. The two savored the hardy brew, shared a joint, and talked easily about themselves. She was a young widow with limited sexual experience. He had been an active member of the Gypsy Jokers, an outlaw motorcycle gang, and a football player at Penn State, graduating with a degree in psychology.

Todd displayed infinite patience and sensitivity, first engaging her in lively conversation, and then affectionate kissing and petting. The sensual foreplay slowly morphed into mind numbing sex. His snoring awoke her at 4:30, leaving her little time to return home before the morning rush hour. She was sore, upper thighs slightly bruised, breasts tender and reddened, but deeply satisfied. She left a note that read: "Thanks for the incredible fuck. Call me." She impulsively wrote down her home phone number.

Alex awoke at noon, hung over, aching from last nights encounter with Todd. She showered, put in a half day at the office, successfully avoiding Clay. She was still mad at him. Before returning home, she visited Lily, her favorite masseuse, for a life rejuvenating massage.

By seven, Alex had taken a Jacuzzi, sorted through her mail, and listen to several phone messages, all concerning real estate. She was nursing a cup of tea when the phone rang. She picked up on the third ring. It was Todd.

"Jeez Alex, thanks for the good time last night."

"Oh Todd, forgive me."

"Why?"

"I think I had too much to drink. The evening is mostly a blur," she lied. She remembered quite clearly the events at the biker bar, and especially the sensual foreplay and wild sex at his apartment. She was still sore from the night's activities. Images of last night's sex suddenly embarrassed her, compounded by the fact that she was now talking to the man who had so superbly ravished her willing body.

"To me it was a ball buster."

"What?"

"Alex, you fucking drained me."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"That's a good thing. Listen, I've got a favor to ask you."

"That's what got me in trouble last night."

"Saturday night, the West Coast chapter of the Gypsy Jokers is throwing a surprise party for the chapter president. I'd like you to be my date."

"Thanks for the invitation, but I don't think I'm up to a biker party."

"It'll be a blast. I'm on good terms with the club."

"I thought you said you were an ex-biker."

"Once a Gypsy Joker, always a gypsy Joker. I'm just on inactive status, supporting my brothers, but not on a daily basis. Anyway, I'd love you to come."

"I'm sorry. I'm still trying to recuperate from last night."

"Hey babe, you were digging me last night."

"I was drunk. You took advantage of me."

"So, why did you leave the thank you note? You said, and I quote, 'Thanks for the great fuck'."

"I was still drunk. The liquor was speaking for me."

"That's not how I see it. So, is it no?"

"I'm not crazy about the biker party, but I would like to see you, this time sober." Alex didn't want to drive him away, but she needed some time. Her life was suddenly becoming too complicated. First it was Vinny, the East Coast mobster, then Clay the pesky realtor, and now Todd. She had been married for ten years, and a grieving widow for one. The last few months, however, were insane. She needed to slow down.

"It sounds like no."

There was a moment of silence before Alex spoke. "I need some time."

"Why don't you sleep on it. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Todd. Sometimes a girl needs space."

"Got yah. We'll touch base tomorrow."

Todd was gone, leaving her the space she needed. She felt frustrated, out of sorts, definitely ambivalent about the biker party.

Alex put in a long day at London House, closing a big real estate sale, the biggest of her career. She was elated, but didn't have anyone eager to celebrate her big sale. Her coworkers, actually vicious competitors, were more envious than elated at her recent coup. She returned home late, soaked in her Jacuzzi, and savored a glass of cabernet. Downstairs she lit a fire and poured a second glass of wine. Before taking a sip, the phone rang. She picked up on the fourth ring. It was Todd.

"Hey Alex, it's Todd."

"What's up?"

"I'm following up on last night's proposition."

"Oh, you don't give a gal time to catch her breath."

"Sorry, I've been bothered by your reluctance."

"What?"

"You seemed standoffish last night."

There was a slight pause and then Alex said, "I was just hesitant about going to a biker party."

"It's going to be the party of the year."

"Perhaps for the biker crowd, but I'm a realtor, not accustomed to booze, bikers, and debauchery."

"Debauchery, that's a big word with evil connotations." Todd emphasized the word evil.

"Bikers have a questionable reputation, one shrouded in evil doings.

"This is a party, Alex. Oh, did I mention we're having a dance contest?"

"No."

"The club rented out an old strip club. Next week it will be gutted, renovated, brought up to snuff. We are going to give the old place a great send off."

"A strip club? What kind of dance contest do you have in mind?"

"All the old ladies will do a strip. There's a stage, runway, and sound system."

"There's no way I'm doing a strip."

"You enjoyed showing off at Hog Heaven. You didn't hesitate shedding your coat, flaunting your great ass and tits, as you casually moved about the pool table. You loved it."

"Clay was sober then. I felt protected."

"You'll be with me. You'll be in safe hands."

Todd showed patience and sensitivity, answering Alex's numerous questions. His description of previous parties and fellow bikers piqued her curiosity. Since she was not the only one dancing, Alex would not be alone. She would, for one evening, join the sisterhood of Gypsy Jokers. She would be Todd's old lady.

Todd's only means of transportation was his Harley, so Alex agreed to pick him up at his place around 6:30. He suggested she wear something comfortable and pack her dance out fit in a gym bag.

* * *

The old strip club was in need of repair, the bar top chipped and cracked, the walls smoked stained, and the lighting and sound system outdated. But it was a great place for a biker party, especially one featuring a strip show. Alex dressed comfortably, wearing form fitting jeans, black sweater, and sandals. She saved the sexy outfit for the dance contest.

Todd introduced her around, eventually hooking her up with Martha, the chapter vice president's old lady. They instantly hit it off, sharing common interests and hobbies, discovering to their mutual delight, that they both loved skiing, hiking, and working out at the gym. Martha was once a realtor. The two women swapped stories fast becoming friends.

Martha leaned over to Alex and whispered, "There's a prize for the best dancer."

"Oh. Something to shoot for?"

"Perhaps. The female winner is awarded the privileged of sleeping with the club's president."

"What?"

"Yeah, so some of the old ladies go all out."

"He must be a hunk." Alex raised her eyebrows, flashing Martha a suspicious grin.

"Over there, talking with Todd. That's Stone. Check him out."

Alex studied the strapping biker. He towered over Todd, and several surrounding Gypsy Jokers. He was at least six four, and probably weighed 250. His hair was cut short, wore a trimmed goatee, and a large diamond in his left ear. Wherever he went, Stone drew a crowd.

"What's he like?"

"Smart, funny, and occasionally rowdy. He likes women."

"How so?"

"He has an insatiable sexual appetite. He's also got a big time reputation."

"Go on." Alex was intrigued.

"He's dynamite in bed. There's rumors about a dungeon."

"Oh."

"So be careful about your dance routine. If you win, you're his."

Shouts and laughter grew as the party took life, the beer and dope flowing freely. At ten sharp, Stone took center stage and signaled the start of the dance contest. "Give it your best. I'll have something special for the winner." The abandoned strip joint erupted in raucous laughter, followed by a few whistles and catcalls.

Groups of five were called backstage to don their outfits. The sound system blared "Pour Some Sugar On Me," introducing a short blond with fake boobs. Her body was firm, but her mug showed a lot of hard living. She projected the image of the quintessential biker chick, faced heavily lined and teeth partially eroded from too much meth.

The crowd roared their approval, giving the dancer a warm reception as she stripped down to her thong. Her gyrations earned her applause, catcalls, and a few thumbs up for a gallant effort. The first round of five featured older women, past their prime, but game for a show and a good time.

The quality significantly improved with the second round of strippers, Olivia receiving the biggest ovation. She was a busty Latina with long legs, and the knowing moves of a professional stripper.

The last group was undoubtedly blessed with the hottest women. They were all in their late twenties to mid thirties, in great physical shape, and blessed either by Mother Nature or a plastic surgeon. Alex was caught up in the excitement as she dressed. She was scheduled to go on last. The pounding, primitive beat of strip songs sent ripples of excitement and anticipation through her body. She liked a challenge, but was conflicted. If she was too well received, there were consequences. Martha's voice haunted her as she put the finishing touches on her outfit. "If you win, you're his."

"Please welcome newcomer, Alex of Hollywood."

Alex parted the tattered drape, peered out at the audience. She glimpsed Todd and Stone, up front and center. She moved slowly to the stage, pausing before the pole. She took a slow turn, showing an expanse of leg, smiling seductively at the audience. Her long black dress was split up to mid thigh, her dark brown hair hung loosely about her shoulders, while her oversized hoop earrings swayed as she took a second slow turn, teasing the audience.

The sound of Wilson Picket's "Mustang Sally," filled the dilapidated strip club, once again resurrecting echoes from the past. Alex moved easily, soaking up the cheers, wolf calls, and whistles of the rowdy bikers. She slowly peeled away her long dress, leaving her bare except for a skimpy thong and bra. The three-inch heels accentuated her pouting ass. Before Picket's classic ended, Alex had shed her bra, leaving only her thong. The bikers went crazy when her full breasts spilled freed from her packed D cups, yelling their approval, laced with stinging epithets guaranteed to embarrass all but the wicked.

"Fucking all star," yelled a stocky biker, sloshing beer from his half full mug.

"Take it all off. You're killing me," yelled another.

She had lost all sense of control, writhing, humping, and gyrating to the delight of the boozy bikers. Alex had temporarily forgotten about the prize for the winner. Only when she left the stage and returned to Martha that it hit her: "If you win, you're his."

Suspense built as the chapter vice president introduced the finalists. The three women stood in the middle of the stage, taking a bow as they were introduced. Alex was introduced last. The vice president announced that all three finalists would grace the audience with an encore.

When the finalist finished, the voting began, Stone holding his hand over the contestants' heads. The three dancers soaked up the moment, standing awkwardly, all three blushing as the bikers savored their flawless flesh, clad only in brightly colored thongs. The drunken Gypsy Jokers responded with cheers, claps, epithets, and whistles. Alex won. She blushed, elated and at the crowd's approval, concerned only about being the top prize.

Todd approached and congratulated her. "You were fantastic. I hope you enjoy your prize," Todd grinned. "I'm going to get mine."

Todd moved over to Stone, leaving Alex puzzled. She turned to Martha and said, "What did Todd mean?"

Martha smiled, and then said, "The dance winner's partner gets to sleep with the presidents old lady."

* * *

At the stroke of midnight the party broke up, Todd leaving with the clubs president's old lady, Alex with Stone, the presiding officer of the local chapter of the Gypsy Jokers. She was nervous, scared, and tipsy. The booze and dope made everything fuzzy. Since Stone was calm and composed, he drove her Lexus back to his place in the hills near Universal City. He pulled up in front of a 1930s stucco house with red tile roof, opened her passenger door, and blurted, "It's time for us to get acquainted."

Alex took a bathroom break, while Stone busied himself lighting a fire. When Alex returned, the living room was bathed in the warm glow of the crackling fire.

"Come have a seat, get comfortable."

Alex moved slowly to the sofa, falling slowly back, trembling slightly, unsure of what to expect. "The fire feels good."

"There's something comforting about a fire. It's in our DNA. Here, have a drag."

Alex reached out and took the joint. After a couple of hits, the world seemed friendlier. "Thanks, I needed that."

"How long have you known Todd?"

"Barely a week. We just met at Hog Heaven."

"I saw you there. You play a mean game of pool."

"I teamed up with Clay, a coworker. We played a few games, but he soon got drunk. Todd needed a ride, so I sobered up at his place."

"Where'd you learn to dance?"

"I had a couple of dance classes in college. I've never stripped before tonight."

"You had all the right moves. So what do you think about the Gypsy Jokers?"

"You all like to party hardy."

"It's in our blood."

The front door flew open, causing Alex to flinch.

"Hey, Rocky, join us for a smoke."

"Right on brother." A stocky, bearded guy wearing jeans and a leather jacket plopped down on the sofa, sandwiching Alex against Stone, instantly causing her to feel claustrophobic. She felt insignificant, powerless, almost smothered, as the burly bikers flanked her, occasionally rubbing their powerful legs against her smaller, but well toned ones.

"This is Rocky, my room mate. He was the only biker at the party without an old lady. Meet Alex."

All Alex could ask was why. It was lame, but the only thing that came to mind. Her booze and dope altered consciousness had little more to contribute.

"It's a pleasure, Alex. My old lady is out of town, so I went solo. You're a fucking great dancer. Fabulous ass and tits."

Alex felt embarrassed, trapped, and scared. Terrified would have been more accurate, if it weren't for the booze and dope. "Thanks," she said, not knowing how to act.

"We share everything," Stone said. "We're not selfish, greedy men. We believe in sharing the wealth."

"What?" Alex said weakly, her voice caught in her throat.

"Have you ever been with two men?"

"What?" She was stunned, shocked at Stone's nonchalant reference to a ménage a trios.

"Have you ever had the pleasure of two men, licking, sucking, and fucking every inch of your body?" Stone said.

Alex sat in stunned silence, her dope dazed mind wrestling with Stone's graphic depiction of what was about to happen. Alarm bells went off in her mind, sending shivers of fear through her drugged body. Her loins had a mind of their own. Her panties were becoming moist, the recipient of the first gush of vaginal fluids. She was a woman divided, reason urging her to flee the scene, but passion calling for her to embrace the moment.

"Cat got your tongue," Rocky said, pushing his Levis covered leg against her trembling thigh.

"I'm lost for words," she said softly.

"Well, now's not a time for words," Stone said. He bent down and planted a tender kiss on Alex's full lips. She trembled, overwhelmed by an unsettling mixture of fear and anticipation. His lips gently nibbled at her slightly parted lips.

"Hey, I'm feeling left out," Rocky grumbled. He slowly lowered his bearded head for a kiss. He too was gentle, lightly kissing, licking, and nibbling her soft lips.

Within minutes, the room was filled by the lusty talk and guttural sounds of the two bikers. Their searching hands and hungry mouths consumed Alex. Her cheeks and neck were red, her breasts swollen with lust, nipples clearly visible in the firelight, poking through her bra and sweater.

Moments later, the two Gypsy Jokers uttered their hardy approval, as Alex's full breasts spilled free, providing both men with enough flesh to feast on.

"Fucking good," snarled Rocky.

"The best is yet to come," blurted Stone, as he licked and sucked her distended nipples. "Time to get comfortable." Stone stood, shed his Levis, sweater, and shorts. He leaned back, arching his hips. His cock was at half-mast, gradually filling with blood, expanding before Alex's blurry eyes. It was mammoth.

"I feel left out," Rocky smirked. He followed Stone's lead and was soon nude as a jaybird. His manhood was shorter, but much thicker, sending shock waves through Alex's quaking body.

The bikers passed Alex back and forth as if she were a Native American peace pipe. Peace, however, was not the product of their foreplay. After long moments of both bikers French kissing Alex, they shifted about the sofa, Stone working Alex's willing mouth and tongue, Rocky positioning himself between her silky thighs. Both men worked magic with their tongues, Stone French kissing Alex, Rocky licking and sucking her gushing cunt. The oral play sent bolts of pleasure through Alex, causing her to whimper and moan uncontrollably.

Stone moved Alex up, turned her, preparing her for Rocky's rear assault. Inch by inch, his thick member slid into Alex's slippery love canal. There was little love shared, but an abundance of lust, leaving the young widow breathless. Her tongue bobbed and weaved, trying valiantly to capture Stone's cock. Rocky's rear attacked was taking its toll, sending sparks of raw pleasure through her loins. She pushed back against Rocky's thick cock, moaning something indistinguishable, as she drooled over Stone's monster. Suddenly she quaked, rattled by a huge orgasm, causing her to shout out at the top of her lungs, "Cuming, cuming, fuck I'm cuming."