Page 46 of The Biker's Virgin
“Why is everyone so drunk?”
Skinny just laughed and continued to weave through the crowd.
She was about to turn and leave when she saw Blaine’s ponytail over the back of a leather club chair. Skinny pointed out, “There he is.”
Olivia gulped and nodded to Skinny, thanking him silently for his escort through the sea of sweaty men. As she approached Blaine she saw someone else she recognized. The girl from the restaurant, the one who had poured beer on Maddie. As Olivia moved toward Blaine through the smoky haze, the leather clad woman beat her to him and pulled him in close, hugging his face to her chest. Time slowed like it did in the movies, and Olivia stood frozen watching. Lizzie sunk down and threw one of her skinny legs over Blaine’s legs and sidled down on top of his lap in a straddle. Her hands gripped the back of the chair as she leaned in to kiss Blaine on the neck. From her vantage point, Olivia couldn’t see what Blaine’s hands, or mouth were doing, and she was pretty sure she didn’t want to. The only thing that she needed in that moment was to get the hell out of there. She turned, full of tears and anger, and rushed out of the clubhouse. She didn’t care who she ran into as she ricocheted off drunk biker’s chests. She felt a hand grab her wrist, and balled up her fist in response.
“Easy, easy.” It was Skinny. “Just wait a minute.”
Olivia stared at the fat biker and pulled herself out of his grasp. He reluctantly let her go. She could sense him following her out of the club, and nobody bothered her as she made her way out into the steamy hot summer night. When the reinforced door slammed shut beside her, she broke into a full out sprint, pulling her keys out of her purse. She jumped into the car and sped away, only to stop a few blocks away to let her emotions escape. Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she sobbed. She let the tears run down her face and didn’t bother to wipe them away. All of the emotion she felt over the past week, the attempted rape from the college boy, the loss of a romance that didn’t have the chance to blossom, all came rushing out of her.
It was 3:30 a.m. when she crept into her house as quietly as she could. She was exhausted, but wired at the same time. She turned on the shower as hot as she could get it and let her smoke-filled clothes slip to the floor. She needed to wash the smell of that place off her body. She scrubbed and sobbed until the water went cold.
