Biker's Virgin

Chapter One

Zack

She had pulled a chair in front of the mirror and was sitting there combing her hair with her fingers like she didn’t realize she was naked. She had thick, dark hair, The kind of hair that was strong enough to steer with while I fucked her last night.

She was looking at me through the mirror, and I saw her smile seductively at me. She removed her hands from her hair and started playing with her nipples without taking her eyes off me. I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. Then I walked to the bathroom, ignoring her the whole time, and pissed loudly while she watched me.

When I was done, I sat down on the edge of my bed and lit a cigarette. Smoke curled around my fingers and rose in tiny ripples that distorted her image for a moment. She had turned her body in my direction. She was sitting suggestively, as though she hoped she could turn me on again. But I had fucked her twice already… and I’d had my fill.

“I don’t know your name,” she said.

Her voice was high pitched and annoying in daylight. I should never have allowed her to spend the night, but I had passed out right after the sex and had woken up to find her curled up next to me.

I didn’t answer her right away. I took another drag of my cigarette before I glanced at her. “Names are irrelevant… don’t you think?”

The question was purely rhetorical, but for some reason, she felt she needed to answer it. “No,” she answered. “I think you told me last night, but I forgot.”

“There was nothing to forget,” I replied. “I never told you my name.”

“Do you want me to guess?” she asked, curling a lock of hair with a finger.

She was trying to be flirtatious, but she only succeeded in turning my stomach. I kept my expression vacant as I fixed my eyes on her.

“No.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, but she regained it in the next second. “Who’s that?” she asked, looking towards the small picture that hung on my wall.

The man in the picture was a big guy with a thick white beard and a bandana tied around his head. Despite his advanced age, his arms were ripped and toned and highlighted by his cutaway jacket.

“My father,” I replied.

“Aw… that’s so sweet,” she said, clearly taking my answer as encouragement to ask more questions. “You two were close?”

“Not really.”

“Oh.” That stumped her for a moment, and her expression almost made me smile.

“Was he also a gang member?” she asked.

I frowned. “What makes you think I’m a fucking gang member?” I asked with deadly calm.

It was clear from her expression that the words had slipped out before she could think them over. She stuttered over her words, and her face went bright red. “No… I meant… sorry,” she said. “It’s just… the way you dress.”