Page 25 of Justice

As the sun took its final wave to the clear Georgia sky, she watched as a truck backed up to the clubhouse. Several excited men came running out, pulling cases of beer from the bed, while others built a fire in a few of the empty oil drums scattered around the lot.

Red emerged from the front door, the sight of his bare chest making her want to vomit. He yells for the gates to be opened and to get this motherfucker started. Cheers break out as the tall, iron gates are pulled back. Headlights bounce in the dark from the emerging cars, followed by at least a dozen bikes.

The noise is deafening, yet the cat-call Red shouts from the top of his lungs is crystal clear. Justice notices the waitress from the bar jump from one of the cars, her barely-there clothing igniting a smile on Red’s face as she sashays over to him. Placing one hand on his chest, the other slips over the top of his jeans, cupping his junk.

She chokes back a snicker as she recalls the Internet search she did for the levels of the hormone he had in his bloodstream four years ago. Poor Charlene was going to be fighting a losing battle, unless Red had chugged down a bottle of those little blue pills, an erection was not in his future.

As she stands to leave, a hand clamps over her mouth scaring her so severely, her heart nearly stops.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” A gruff voice she recognizes from the coffee shop sounds in her ear. Picking her up by the waist, he drags her back into the thick woods behind them. He gently places her on the ground, keeping her mouth covered.

“I’m going to remove my hand, don’t even think about screaming. Do you understand?”

Justice acknowledges by nodding her head, the embarrassment of being caught battled with the adrenalin from the scare. She felt stupid for not watching her surroundings; of course Red would have security patrolling around during an event like this.

His hand falls from her mouth, but he keeps his body close to hers, his hand drifting down her bare shoulder and resting on her hip. The energy between them is addictive, she wonders what it would be like to spin around and put her mouth to his, plunging her tongue beyond those lips of his, relishing the essence of him. Thankfully, her rational side wins out and she steps away, placing a comfortable distance between them, extinguishing the fire building inside. She has no time to feed those flames.

“Funny, you never struck me as a cut slut when I saw you.”

Laughter falls from her lips, the title he used meant to insult her. However, his bite missed its target, as this was exactly what she was trying to achieve.

“Really? And how would you know what a cut slut is? Especially given the fact you lack a cut.”

“Sweetheart trust me, I know a cut slut when I see one and you’re trying really hard to be one. As for my rag, don’t you worry, I’ve got one. I’m just waiting for an opportunity to wear it.”

“Opportunity? It’s a fucking cut, not a prom dress. Most bikers I know would rather have their skin ripped off than be parted from theirs.” She pauses, as she looks him up and down. “Why are you out here and not balls deep in one of the girls inside?”

She can see something brewing in his eyes, and as the smoldering embers from the previous fire try to ignite once again, he flashes a smile which sets her world on fire.

“What’s your name?” Stepping closer, he closes the distance she created. The vibrations from his deep voice having a voodoo effect on her, placing her in a trance where she cannot look away.

“Candy.” Her rehearsed response falls from her lips, a name she recalled Red having a fondness for.

“Well, Candy. My name is Hawk, and I think we both want to be on the other side of that fence. How about we help each other out, see where this thing goes?”

“Fine,” she bites, while internally rejoicing. It was one thing to stand at the fence alone and ask to come in, it was quite another to ride bitch on the back of a man’s bike. “But don’t expect me to fuck you or bring you beer and shit.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Candy.”

After a short walk through the tall weeds, she waited as he straddled the same bike she’d seen him ride previously. Pulling the leather cut from the handlebars, he slides it on, before holding out his hand in an invitation for her to climb on. With a kick of his heel, the engine roars to life and he takes off as if he had done it a hundred times.

As they near the gate, she adjusts the bikini-like top she sewed together that morning, shifting the sequined material so the edge of her nipple was visible. While she had a good amount of money tucked away, she preferred to use skills she had acquired in prison. One of those skills was a homemaking class she sat through to pass the time away; she learned how to sew an apron and darn socks. It was after the instructor left where she taught herself how to create the kind of clothing she would need for an occasion like this.

She’d picked up the hot pink wig she tucked her hair under, along with the patent leather thigh-high boots, at the Salvation Army store for less than ten bucks. Until she walked along the fence to her hiding spot, rubbing a blister on the back of her right foot, she’d considered them a good deal.

Hawk pulled up to the open gate, the young man standing sentry scrutinized the pair and waved them in. He placed a hand on her bare thigh, gripping the muscle tight as he gunned the bike, causing her to jerk back and his body to chuckle with silent laughter. She would have kicked him in the balls if it wouldn’t have looked odd. She needed to be inside the gates, and if putting up with his asshole games was the cost of admission, she would gladly pay.

He pulls the bike to a stop, holding his hand out once again to help her down. When he cuts the engine, the music from the speakers above the garage fills the silence left behind. Scanning the yard, she notices a number of eyes taking them in, some in appreciation, while others not so much. Including Charlene, the girl from the bar.

“You certainly know how to make an entrance, don’t you cowboy?”

“Those eyes are for you, sweetheart. Your tits are fabulous by the way.” Hawk adds, his eyes glued to the fullness of her chest. Men have told her the same thing for years, but somehow, hearing it from Hawk’s lips makes it true.

“Hey, man. Didn’t think you would make it.” A tall man with an olive complexion, holding a beer in his hand approaches, it’s clear he and Hawk are acquainted.

“You know me, Lightning, always fashionably late.”

Justice watched as the muscles in Hawk’s shoulder flexed beneath the leather of the cut, sending a jolt of something erotic straight to her clit, as he shakes hands with Lightning.

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