Page 29 of Red's Peril: Part 1

“You’re asking me to prospect?”

He nods his head.

“For twelve months.”

“Maybe more, won’t be less unless you don’t live up to your promise, or you decide you don’t like the club.”

“You know nothing about me.” My brow, by now, is creased.

He grins, picks up his own beer and takes a swig. “Don’t I? See, I spoke to a man named Manny. Ring any bells? He gave me glowing references. You’re dependable, smart, and a darn good mechanic. You, according to him, are destined for better things in life.”

I’m sure he was thinking of me managing my own shop, not prospecting for a motorcycle club.

“Doesn’t seem much of a career progression,” I toss back.

“Doesn’t it?” Drummer sits forward. “You’d be surprised, Red. See, in the Satan’s Devils, a man can pretty much go as far as he wants, and what he’s got the aptitude for.” He drains the bottle, and the moment he puts it down, Wraith comes over and offers him a new one. He declines, demanding a whisky instead. Then his attention comes back to me. “Manny had a lot to say, Red, and pretty much summed up what I can see with my own eyes. You got potential. I’m wondering just how far you’ll go in this MC. After you’ve done your prospecting time, of course.”

I’ve no home. No job. No family. The woman I could have seen myself with had turned me down. What have I got to lose? Drummer seems to think I might have something to gain, but quite frankly, for now, a roof over my head and money in my pocket would go a long way.

“I can walk away at any time?”

Drummer’s mouth quirks as though he knows he’s reeling me in. “If you want to, you wouldn’t be right for us, and we’d never give you a patch.”

I finish my beer, place the bottle on the tabletop, then sigh. Wondering what I’m letting myself in for, I tell him, “Okay, I’m in.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s a decision you’re going to regret, Red.” His reassurance is strangely comforting until he adds, “And if you want a fresh drink, you better go get it yourself. And while you’re there, hurry Wraith up with my fuckin’ whisky.”

And, as I quickly find out, he’s not the only one who needs a drink. There’s no doubt they’re already testing me when I get orders shouted from all directions.

Standing behind the bar, I’m already beginning to wonder if I’m going to regret my hasty decision. Especially as I’m asked to mix up aSex on the Beach,only to discover, when I do find someone who knows the ingredients, that yeah, there’s vodka but no fucking Peach Schnapps and certainly no cranberry juice. I grit my teeth and take the ribbing good-naturedly.

Chapter Eleven

Six months later

“Fuck! How many did the brothers get through last night?” Wraith directs the net toward yet another condom in the swimming pool, while I kneel with a water testing kit, making sure, despite the amount of semen probably floating around in it, the water won’t actually kill anyone.

A feminine snort comes from beside me. “Quite a few as I remember.” Pussy, lazing on a sun lounger, stretches lazily with a grin the size of a Cheshire cat’s on her face. “Just a shame you boys can’t get any action.”

“Won’t be much longer,” Wraith growls, and promises, “Then you’ll know what a real man feels like.”

Pussy snorts. “Hope you can live up to that boast, little boy.”

I shake my head at them. I’d been horrified at first to discover the club kept a couple of women just for the brothers’ use. But once I’d seen both Selina and Pussy were one hundred percent up for it, never complaining when they serviced multiple men in one night, and often, more than one together, I’d revised my opinion. The girls love sex, the more of it the better. And for their services, they live comfortably in the now finished house at the top of the compound, with pocket money provided for any expenses.

But Wraith and I being prospects, the girls are off-limits to us.

I have to admit, I’ve not got Wraith’s confidence. These girls must be experts on fucking by now, how can he assert he can satisfy them more than the others? I suppose it’s here my lack of experience lets me down, but as I remember, I hadn’t heard Cheryl complaining.

Though my exposure to what goes on in the open in the clubroom makes me have doubts. Some of the positions the brothers have the girls in, I hadn’t imagined were possible.

Much as I’d like to experiment, I haven’t had a chance. As the club girls aren’t available to us, I could only get my dick wet if I went into Tucson on the prowl. Doing a full-time job as a mechanic, then performing my club duties, meant I had very little time off. Even if I’d had the inclination to seek out a woman for a one-night stand, doing what I do for the club, I could offer no other commitment.

The always present odour of sex in the clubroom from the live porn shows doesn’t make abstinence easy. I often think it’s just one more trial set up for prospects. Letting our dicks shrivel for lack of use from anything other than our hands being just one more way to prove our loyalty to the club.

Wraith’s fucking lucky. He’s done nine months. Not too long before he’ll be up for his patch, and I suspect he’s a shoo-in. They’d be crazy not to want a good man like him in their ranks. Me? Well, I’ve got a bit longer before I’m considered, but I’m hopeful. I’m doing my hardest not to fuck this up.

Any regrets I thought I’d had about becoming a prospect hadn’t lasted long. My room is comfortable, homey now I’ve put my own stamp on it. As a mechanic, I’m respected, already treated not so much as an employee, but an equal partner. Blade, Tongue, Beef, and I pick the jobs we want to work on depending on our abilities. None of us shirk the hard stuff either or leave it for anyone else. Manny was a good boss, but I was always conscious of working for him. Now, I quickly discovered, being part of the club meant I was working for myself. It serves as a good boot up the ass when you know what you put in will be coming back to you.

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