Page 6 of Wild Weekend
The woman helps me to my feet, and the room tilts slightly. Damn, I must have really been knocked out.
I stumble, and she catches me. “You need some help?”
There is no universe where a pretty young woman with perfect breasts helps me pee.
I take a breath and steady myself with one hand against the wall. “What are you, a nurse or something?”
She smiles, and it makes her even more beautiful ifthat’s possible. “Something like that. I work in a nursing home.”
Kind and selfless. This woman is more than a perfect set of breasts. But she’s still not helping me pee.
“I’ve got this.”
A few minutes later with my bladder taken care of, I catch myself in the mirror as I wash my hands. Blood trickles from my temple, and there’s a small gash at my hairline.
I need to get cleaned up, then sort out this fuck-up with the room.
When I open the bathroom door, the woman with the rattle is sitting in a chair nursing her baby. She gives me a death stare as if challenging me to say something.
I avert my eyes. I’ve seen enough breasts today, and even though she’s got a muslin cloth draped over her, I don’t want to get an accidental look at a boob. Especially as the presence of a baby means there’s probably a hairy biker out there somewhere who she belongs to, and the last thing I want this weekend is any trouble.
My attacker is sitting on the bed, and when I turn to her she smiles sweetly at me, and damn but the pain in my head eases a little.
Maybe a little woman trouble wouldn’t be so bad.
“Let me look at that for you.”
She’s got a first aid kit laid out on the bed and retrieves a bowl of hot water from the bathroom. She pulls over the table by the door and sets the bowl on it.
“I’m sorry about hitting you. I thought you were apervert. You can’t be too careful with all these men around.”
I don’t blame her. There’s got to be at least five bikers for every woman in town right now. It’s a family friendly event, and I’ve seen plenty of kids around. But there are still a lot of single male bikers, and when they’re in packs like this, some of them forget how to behave.
Not every MC here is as honorable as the Wild Riders. It was lucky it wasn’t one of the Underground Crows that walked in on her. Who knows what those animals would do.
“I can see how it must have looked.”
Now that I’m not blinded by the pressure in my bladder, I don’t know how I missed the signs of occupation in the room. A black purse is strewn across the bed, and a small duffle bag sits on the table under the television. A pair of bright green sneakers are by the door. In my rush to get to the bathroom, I don’t know how I missed them.
The woman dabs a piece of cotton wool in the water and presses it to my forehead. When she leans in her breasts are right by my face, and I catch a whiff of her freshly bathed skin.
I resist the urge to reach out and touch them. I know what they look like under her t-shirt, and that’s an image that will stay with me for a long time.
“What’s your name?”
“Stella,” she says. “And this is Cleo, my sister.”
I glance over at Cleo, and she scowls at me. With her heavy eyeliner and all leather outfit, she’s a menacingfigure. I get the feeling these girls know how to look after themselves.
“I’m Will.”
“Nice to meet you, Will.”
My name on her lips causes a stir in my pants, and I cover my lap with my hands hoping she doesn’t notice. This is the closest I’ve been to a woman in months, and the heady mix of her scent, her smile, and knowing what her breasts look like has my blood heating.
She works in silence, administering antiseptic, and I give myself over to her soothing hands.
“You’ve come all the way from North Carolina?”
