Biker's Virgin

Leslie followed me into my room and immediately came to the same conclusion.

“It's Chris and Emerson,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head.

I checked my watch. “It's getting close to midnight, and it's a weeknight. This isn't right.”

“You're damn right it isn’t!” she announced, her eyes fiery with anger as her quick temper took hold. “I'm gonna go over there and give those two a piece of my damn mind!”

“Hold on, hold on. Let me go. You know how you get when you're uh, a little… upset.”

“I'll rip their damn balls off!”

“Annnnd my point is made. I'll ask them nicely first, okay? Just hold up. We don’t need to be rearranging people’s anatomy unnecessarily.”

She was fuming, but she nodded her head in agreement. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to step in and save someone f

rom Leslie’s wrath. It probably wouldn’t be the last, but it was a better idea to let me use a more diplomatic approach.

I stopped off in the bathroom to check my reflection in the mirror and then headed over. As soon as I got into the hall, the music got a lot louder. I wondered if I shouldn't wait and let some other resident do the complaining for me because, surely, someone else would be just as annoyed by the music as we were. But when I heard Leslie shouting profanities from within our apartment behind me, I knew it couldn't wait. If I didn't go now, she would, and then we'd have World War Three on our hands. I inhaled a deep breath and knocked.

The music was so loud that nobody heard me. I had to resort to balling my hand into a fist and hammering on the door so violently that it shook on the hinges.

After a few moments, the door opened and there stood a shirtless Chris, bleary-eyed with drunkenness.

“Woohoo, one of the babes from next door has come to join the party!” he roared. The stench of beer on his breath was overwhelming. Behind him in the apartment, some of the bimbos I'd seen with them before were all playing what I could only assume was strip poker, judging from the cards scattered across the coffee table and the state of undress some of them were in.

“Uh, I did not come to join the party, Chris,” I said. “I just wanted to ask if you could maybe turn the music down a bit.”

“What? I can't hear you, Lester,” he slurred.

“My roommate is Leslie, I'm Brooke,” I said, getting annoyed. “The music, could you turn it down?”

Just then Emerson stepped out of the kitchen, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. He had a beer in his hand, and he looked a little on the drunk side, too. I couldn't help but stare; he was built like a Greek god. All the hours he’d spent at gym had paid off. However, now that I'd seen it before, I was able to keep my eyes more properly focused. Being annoyed at his obnoxious roommate helped, as well.

“Hey, Brooke!” Emerson shouted. He seemed very excited to see me. “Come on in! We're just playing some drinking games here! You'll have a great time, c'mon!”

“Uh, no thanks, Emerson.”

“What?” he questioned, his face crinkled as if he couldn’t understand me.

“I SAID, NO THANKS. LISTEN, COULD YOU PLEASE TURN THE MUSIC DOWN?”

“HUH?”

That was it. I pushed past Chris and walked into their place, squeezing past Emerson, as well. The girls all stopped their chatting and giggling and stared at me in surprise as I pushed my way past them, too. I headed straight for their sound system—a gigantic, expensive set of equipment—and began searching for the volume button. The music was absolutely deafening inside the apartment. It was almost like being inside an actual nightclub.

“HEY, THIS CHICK IS A DJ!” shouted Chris from the door. “SHE'S GONNA SPIN SOME TRACKS! HIT IT, GIRL! THAT'S MY NEW DJ SETUP! I'M LEARNING TO DJ, YO! SHOW US WHAT YOU GOT!”

I found the volume knob and quickly turned it down, dropping the sound level by half.

“I am not a DJ,” I stated firmly, suddenly feeling my cheeks starting to glow with embarrassment as everyone stopped what they were doing and stared disapprovingly at me. “I just wanted to ask you guys to turn the sound down a bit. The bass is going right through to our apartment next door, and it's so crazy that it's actually making everything literally shake inside our place. Please, guys, please just be a little more considerate, okay? Both of us next door have really long days tomorrow and we need to sleep. I'm not saying you can't party, but please, please just keep it down, alright?”

Chris looked like he was about to say something, but Emerson jumped in before he could. “I'm sorry, Brooke,” he said, looking genuinely ashamed. “We've, uh, we've had a few drinks and I guess we didn't realize how loud the music was. We'll keep it down.”

The girls were all staring at me with naked hatred in their eyes. I was now the bitchy, no-fun neighbor, for sure. Not that I cared, but I couldn't take their stares for a moment longer. I hurried out of the apartment without another word.

“Wait, Brooke!” Emerson called out after me, but I was done. I stormed back into my apartment and slammed the door shut behind me.

Inside, Leslie was waiting not so patiently. “How did it go?”