Biker's Virgin

I raised my eyebrows, and she changed tack.

“I like your jacket,” she said, desperately trying to make conversation.

Her eyes fell to the motorcycle jacket hanging from a peg on the back of my door. My colors were emblazoned on the back, clearly indicating my status and my alliances.

“I didn’t know motorcycle clubs had presidents.”

I cocked my head to the side and refused to say anything. She seemed to be growing more and more uncomfortable, but she didn’t quit.

“What’s it like?” she asked.

I raised my eyebrows.

“What’s it like to be president…of a motorcycle club?” she asked. “Is it like Boy Scouts?”

“Are you fucking serious?” I asked.

She seemed taken back by my tone, but then she laughed insipidly. “I’ve always wanted to ride a Harley. Can you give me a ride on yours? Then I can cross that off my bucket list.”

“No,” I said, without hesitation.

Her smile dropped, and she finally seemed to realize that our little rendezvous was over. She no longer held any interest for me, and therefore I had no more reason to be charming. Becoming self-conscious almost immediately, she looked around for her clothes.

I gestured to the small pile at the foot of the bed, and she rushed to retrieve them, seemingly aware of the fact that I was watching her move. There was no longer anything seductive about her anymore. She just wanted to get the hell out of my room.

She pulled on her mini skirt and the halter that she had worn with it. Her makeup had smudged considerably, and she looked like she had two black eyes.

“Have you seen my purse?”

“Over there,” I said, gesturing to the sparkly silver purse I saw underneath the chest of drawers.

She had to bend down to get it, and when she righted herself, she looked at me awkwardly. “I’m… Melissa by the way.”

“Goodbye, Melissa,” I said.

Her eyes turned cold, and she walked to the door with anger in her step. She had the door open when she turned to me suddenly. “You’re a fucking asshole,” she spat.

It was the first time that I’d seen some personality from her. It was the first time I’d seen a little sincerity. “Nice of you to notice.”

“So you were just after a one-night stand?”

“I didn’t hide that,” I shrugged.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be nice the morning after,” she said.

I smiled at that one. “The point of a one-night stand is a good fuck,” I said. “If you want conversation… make a friend. I’m not it.”

“So is this what you do?” she demanded. “Go to a different bar each night, choose a random hot woman, and take her home?”

“Pretty much,” I nodded. “Yeah.”

“So you just saw me sitting there and decided you were going to fuck me?”

“Actually, I saw your friend and decided I was going to fuck her,” I said. “But then I noticed you…” I saw the corner of her mouth tilt upwards, and I knew she was expecting some compliment. “And I decided you needed a good fuck more than she did.”

The smile died on her face before it had even really materialized. She turned her back on me and stormed off while I put out my cigarette and headed downstairs to the living room. A couple of the boys were already there. Lonny was shooting darts by the television, and Bones was eating breakfast in the kitchen.

“Who was that?” Lonny asked when I came down.