|
 I’m the stumbling drunk of the Bikernet crew. I admit it. Sure, I get fucked up on a daily basis, live off the staff’s kindness and brotherhood, haven’t had a bike up and running in six months and don’t help out much. So recently I was given a do-or-die ultimatum. Write the ultimate tech tip or die trying. I pondered the dire situation at Harold’s Bar for almost a week, then stumbled back to the headquarters on Friday for our weekly meeting and confessed. I couldn’t come up with the ultimate tech, let alone write the sonuvabitch. I stood up in front of Bandit, only swaying slightly. Hell, I was center stage in front of the mad Agent Zebra, the scholarly Nuutboy, acid-breath Renegade (who hasn’t given me the time of day for several years), political Oz, the Digital Gangster and Sin Wu. While I confessed to my inability to do almost anything, my eyes kept tracking to the lovely Sin Wu. This young thing is downright beautiful. Her facial features are soft, her skin as creamy as warm marshmallows. Her hair is jet black and flows like velvet over a whore’s couch. She’s Oriental, but has a set of tits that consume me like two giant Wicked Wanda crystal balls. I couldn’t focus on my task, but something else was coming over me. As I stood there in my usual slovenly, bedraggled and battered way, I began to stand a little taller. I tucked in my T-shirt, and pushed my long hair back into a ponytail. All of a sudden I was embarrassed that I hadn’t shaved. I couldn’t figure out what was affecting my behavior. Bandit had just announced that although Sin was returning to college, she would work for us handling the classifieds and calendar page part time. It was an odd meeting. We hadn’t been blessed with a woman in our presence in the past, but the more I looked at her, the more I wanted to be close to a woman. Sin had a quiet demeanor, sorta sullen, except when she was close to Bandit. I could tell she empathized with my perilous situation. I was about to lose my standing with the boys. I had run to the end of my leash and these guys were giving me one more chance to stand up and do my share. I looked at them. I had spent 25 years with some of these guys. They were always there when my motorcycle went over. I looked back at Sin and her obvious discomfort was evident. She got up from her seat and left the room. Immediately there was a void in the garage and I felt abandoned in front of my closest friends. I knew they were trying to help, but I suppose now, that didn’t seem the support I needed. I babbled something about the bar and trying to think of something when Renegade burst to his feet. “Goddamnit, Snake, you said the same thing two years ago and Nancy Trier saved your ass,” he shouted as he headed toward me. I knew I had whatever was coming, but as he rounded the cell-door iron table, Sin Wu came back in the door and blocked his access to my wiry bones. Renegade grabbed the door and stormed out of the headquarters. Sin side-stepped the big man and went to Bandit’s side of the table. She bent down with an icy Corona and a slice of lime, then whispered something in his ear. Bandit, the incorrigible bastard, looked stunned. His tanned face recoiled with disdain and he spun to meet Sin’s gaze. His lips formed the word, “No.” She put her fingertip softly to his lips, and I could swear that she was becoming sexually aroused. Bent over, her cleavage showed, and it was prime. Her ass, which was facing away from me, seemed to sway slightly. Their eyes bore into one another’s for a long, eerie moment before Bandit said to me, “She’s got it, you slippery sonuvabitch. A woman has saved you once more. But you had best deliver the goods or you’ll be swimming in the harbor.” Wrench leaned forward on his milk crate. “What? She came up with the ultimate tech tip?” “I hate to admit it,” Bandit said, “but yes she did.” Sin leaned down once more, gracing us with cleavage so soft and alluring that the mere image could, perhaps, soften Renegade’s heart. She whispered something in Bandit’s ear again, and he nodded and patted her on the ass. She seemed to grind that heavenly curve into his hand then stood and left the headquarters as if she were walking on air. “So what is it?” Nuutboy asked, salivating with the memory of Sin’s large, succulent mounds. The guy is a sexual freak. “I’m embarrassed to say this, and if Sin didn’t volunteer to take you through it, I would have to quash the notion right now…” he said, searching for the right words. “Fer Christ’s sake, Bandit,” Jon Towle said, “What the fuck is it?” “Goddamnit,” Bandit shouted. He slammed his leathery fists against the table’s glass top. “It’s a guide to the ultimate sexual encounter.” “You’ve got to be nuts,” Towle slavered. “I hate women since my divorce. Fuck ’em and get the hell out, I say!” Oz jumped to his feet and called his wife on the cell phone. Shouting into the phone and at Bandit simultaneously, he said, “How the hell can I run for office if you’re going to print Jerry Springer shit on the site?” “You egomaniac,” Renegade said to Bandit as he slammed his bottle of Bud against the table. “Bandit, you think you’re some kind of lover boy? You think Snake telling the world about your sexual encounters will stir some kind of emotion? This is a biker site, not Penthouse letters. Tell him to piss off, Snake!” Nuutboy lit a joint, looked at me, and said, “Far out. Could be hip.” I recoiled, but two things hit me. One, that the Oriental goddess had saved my ass, and suddenly for the first time in a year I felt the pangs of human emotion. Something felt good and stirred inside me, yet my nerves twitched. Zebra had been sitting on the floor, his short blond hair a mess as usual. He wore old cowboy boots, faded denim pants and a shirt to match, with a bandana tied around his neck. He was chewing on a long strand of hay. Where he got the shit, I’ll never know. “You fobbing, full-gorged, frothy flirt-gill, you’ll never pull it off. Filmmakers have been trying to capture the ultimate love scene since the first ill-fated, plumb-plucked dewberry stuck his eyeball against a bedroom keyhole. You don’t stand a chance.” “Hey,” Bandit shouted above the din of disagreement, “this was a collaborative effort, culminating in an exhaustive experiment involving a cross-section of the female species. In order to present a factual, unbiased experiment, I will let Snake interview the women involved. Oh, by the way, I’m innocent!” “Ridiculous,” Oz said, stammering, which is unlike the master negotiator. “What does this have to do with motorcycles?” “Do I need to explain?” Bandit said to the group at large. “In a sense, he’s remotely correct, in his own dribbling, fool-born way,” Zebra said as he picked his fingernails with the hunk of straw he’d just had in his mouth. “We produce articulate articles on high performance bikes. Why not on turbo-charged sex?” “You’ve got a week, Snake,” Bandit said. His big green eyes followed Sin as she left the room. We knew, looking at his longing gaze, that the meeting was over. I hadn’t felt this energized since someone slipped me a full, untapped fifth of Cuervo and two peyote buttons. Something tingled inside and it wasn’t chemically induced. The brothers disbanded, fired up their bikes and burned down the street for the bar. Renegade shouldered me on his way out. “As much as I hate your destitute ass,” he said as he looked over his narrow, bad-assed glasses, “I would like you to prove me wrong.” His glare could break bricks. Renegade was a strange one. He would sit through entire meetings and not say a word. He’d just lean back with his shades on, his head down, with that big mane of black hair shadowing his pock-marked mug, and pick his nails with his bowie knife. He was a dangerous man, and when we had real problems with someone, somehow, mysteriously, the problem would go away. I was always sure that was Renegade’s doing, but I could never prove it. All I knew was that he scared the shit out of me. I backed away instinctively, and someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Sin. “This way,” she said, leading me down the hall of the headquarters. She stopped for a moment to pull a tape recorder out of her purse, and handed it to me with a pad and pen. “You can start with me,” she said in her usual low, soft-as-a-down-pillow tone. We sat on the edge of Bandit’s bed. “It begins with something soft, or a gift,” she said. Even with those few words, I could see the color come up in her cheeks. Sin is beyond beautiful. There’s something of deep substance about even her appearance. Sure, she’s a bombshell with legs that are tanned and seem to go on forever, a narrow waist that calls to your hands to hold, and those tits. Man, I can’t explain. But her face and hair are everything. She has features that would melt a man’s iron-clad will. Her eyes speak of all that has heart, and her shimmering onyx hair seems untouchable, yet it calms your soul to the core just to look it. “It must begin in the afternoon with a note, or a card of love with sexual overtones,” she said. My hand began to sweat. “The words must be comforting and make a woman feel secure, yet empowered to be uninhibited. “The inference is that I could let go and be totally secure, respected and free. Like I could say or do anything that turned me on and my man would be completely respectful, forever. “Then when I arrived at his place, he volunteered to go shopping with me. Shopping is not a bore, if there is a sexual agenda. It becomes foreplay, although we never touch. He understands that I’m going to college and working to support myself, so when we are together he cups my soul in his hands and allows me to relax completely and utterly.
 “As we wander the aisles of the market, he asked me questions about my day, about my life and about my sex, then just listened quietly without comment. I told him about Coral and my lust for this sexy woman, and he just listened, which drove me crazy. I could feel this deep urging building inside of me. He asked me about her body and I tried to explain, which only got me more excited. He would interrupt with a question about my family or school, when I just wanted to keep talking fantasy, about Coral, or about the evening. By the time we got to the checkout counter, I could have attacked him. Walking to the truck, he touched me lightly. It felt cool, the wind around my legs and thighs. Then out of nowhere, in public, he pulled me to him and kissed me. He tugged at my dress and exposed my panties. I felt a cool rush between my legs and I became immediately wet. Just as unexpectedly, he released me and put the groceries in the back of the truck. “I sat as close to him as I could and he let his fingers crawl up my legs until I was going out of my mind. We talked sex all the way to the headquarters, but when we arrived he unloaded the groceries, made me a drink and began dinner preparations. I can’t tell you how he did it, but he was waiting on me, yet was in total control. He made the table with candles. It was simple, nothing frilly, but artful and strong. He grilled salmon steaks in garlic and olive oil and steamed a variety of fresh vegetables. We sat across from one another in the dim light and chatted, occasionally drifting to a sexual encounter we had in the past, a fantasy or a dream of something we would like to do. He was in total control, yet he listened to every word I said, and never tried to steer me away from what I was talking about. The dinner was simple and fresh. I ate it like a drug addict snorts coke. I wanted to crawl across the table, but his manner was pure intrigue and composure. If I had been nude, he would have ignored me. It wasn’t time and he knew it. “The night was quiet and the lights over the harbor twinkled in a serene way.” “Sin? Sin?” Bandit’s voice boomed down the narrow passageway to the bedroom. “Are you back there?” I stood up immediately and backed away from Sin. “Yeah, she’s back here brother.” It was as if she knew she didn’t need to respond. I would. For the first time in years, I felt alive, connected to something other than a bottle. I was exhausted, horny, in love. I couldn’t figure it out. I needed a drink. “Sin,” Bandit said, “you better get moving. She will be here soon and you need to study tonight.” Sin just got to her feet, and collected her things. She turned to me on her way out. “I’ll never forget that evening,” she murmured and kissed my cheek. There was a tension about Bandit’s words. I could sense that time was running out before another woman arrived. He’s single and has nothing to be afraid of, but I could sense his concern for the harmony of the situation. Sin kissed him lightly on the cheek and stroked his crotch tenderly, then slipped out the door into the fog. I sat back down, exhausted yet invigorated. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I wanted to have a drink. But there was a new energy coursing through my blood. “How’d it go?” Bandit asked. “Oh, oh, it went… ah it went…” I couldn’t describe anything. “Listen,” he interrupted, “I’ve got to step out for a second. If Layla shows up, let her in, and tell her I’ll be right back.” “Sure, sure, Bandit,” I said and followed him to the office in the front. I wanted to rewind the tape and listen to Sin’s voice again, but it was as if I was a DA and had just received the confession of a century and couldn’t believe my ears. I tingled at the thought of her syrupy-sweet words. The sound of sex. I looked at the headquarters liquor cabinet and thought about pouring a drink. I hadn’t met Layla. She came late. No one had met her. In fact, Zebra harassed Bandit about her being his imaginary house mouse. This was the first time I’d heard her name. Perhaps she was evolving to another status with the big guy. I looked at the cabinet again, then heard the click of footsteps on the deck. I had heard Sin come and go, but this sound was different. The steps were short strides, yet slow and deliberate. Like a song, each step had a quiet pulsing tone to it. Then there was a tap on the window and I was taken aback. Was that a tap or a caress? “Bandit?” The voice came like a young pussycat pleading at the door. I suddenly felt like I was high. Like I had drunk a fifth of something from heaven and everything that was happening was occurring on a cloud above another planet. “Bandit?” she called again and I recoiled as before. I coughed. “Ah, ah, Bandit went out,” I stumbled, unable to make coherent thoughts connect. She opened the door and walked in as if the door wasn’t there. “You must be Snake,” she said matter of factly. It was as if she had known of me for years. I tried to muster the macho composure to say something halfway witty, but… “Yes ma’am,” I said and took a half step forward. There was an aura about this woman, a poise, that I felt unworthy to penetrate. I reached out to shake her hand while keeping my distance and it slipped into my palm like a flower over my wrinkled human flesh. She had poise like Sin. It was as if she weren’t there at all, but just floating by. I felt awkward and bumbling. “Ah, he’ll be right back,” I attempted to sputter like a young man confronted by his first nude. “I was told you wanted to interview me,” she said. I had no notion how she would know this and I wasn’t about to ask. She stood there, and I rolled her appearance and name around in my mind. In Fact, all the images in my feeble brain were colliding. I couldn’t seem to focus. I began to sweat. “Sit down,” she said in a voice as soft as that ice cream that curls into cones from a machine. “Would you like a drink?” I needed one like never before. Something had to calm my nerves. “Yessss,” I sputtered, and she disappeared into the kitchen. As I gazed at her departure, I knew instinctively why Bandit was attracted to this woman. She had composure unlike any other women we had ever seen around the garage. There was a powerful aura about her that seemed calming, like a stiff drink. She returned with a Corona stuffed with a slice of lime. My favorite. How did she know? She sat beside me on the short couch and I felt uncomfortable by her presence. I could smell her perfumed hair, which was dark brown with a hint of red. It flowed over her shoulders like swells in the ocean. I could tell it was natural, there was no hair spray and the woman wore very little makeup, if at all. There was a hint of color in her lips and her eyes were big and hazel. But the biggest impression I got was similar to Sin’s, except more powerful and mature. She had a confident calm about her like an indestructible war ship at sea. She knew that she could handle whatever came her way. I held the chilled bottle as if it were my cock. For the first time I realized that that’s what I had been doing for years. Going from bar to bar, holding my dick, waiting for something to happen. I was aware now that the bottle never worked, but I sucked on it just the same. “I’ll tell you what I know,” she said, helping me overcome the immense awkwardness of the moment. “We had talked about this night for months,” she explained as she turned in my direction. Her gaze stunned me and I couldn’t write. I fumbled with the tape recorder until I got it rolling again. “Talk is everything. He lets me ramble, lets my eyes devour and my mind roam. Although I knew the direction we were headed, he never pushed or cajoled me. I’m the one who asked to be spanked or to be tied up. He never pushed or tried to talk me into anything. That way I felt comfortable. So after we finished dinner we went to the couch for another drink. “The right amount of booze is critical. If I had gotten stoned, I would have been no good. I would have lost sensation and the key is to heighten sensation while being relaxed. I was drinking Bacardi Limon and cranberry juice and the first drink he poured me was strong. Almost two shots, but the second one after dinner was half that much. By then I was relaxed, but every nerve in my body was aware, alive and tingling. “Without a word, he went to the bathroom and lit some candles and started the bath. I took my drink in the bathroom and stripped. While soaking in the slippery liquid, he brought me a pipe and we had a couple of tugs. I love it when he comes into the bathroom and sits in the steamy atmosphere and talks to me while I soak. Our talk becomes very hot and I know he enjoys watching me shave my pussy, although sometimes he leaves; when he does, it’s to light the candles in the bedroom and pull the covers back, but this time it was different. “He had prepared some bandannas to tie around my wrists. Each bandanna was carefully selected, then washed several times, so it was soft. No hard or crusty silk screening. The bed is a massive California king and he tested several bungee cords to strap to the headboard and the legs at the foot of the bed. He made sure they would tug on my tender limbs without pulling them uncomfortably. “Each to his or her own, but the bud we smoked was very mild. No exotic kick-ass weed that would leave your head spinning for hours. We wanted to be uninhibited, not stoned. “As I walked into the bedroom barefooted, wearing only a light robe, he spun me lightly, removing the robe. He guided me onto the bed without a word and pushed me onto my back. It was evident what he was doing without instructions or crass comments. I laid back and watched as he tied each bandanna in place firmly, but without being tight. Each knot was a carefully tied square knot for easy release. The hooks of the cords were cold as he slipped them under the gentle fabric so that the points would be away from the skin. Then he secured them to the bed, and I was tied and turned-on to the max. He had never said a word about what he was doing, but suddenly I was completely naked and exposed. Every fiber of my being pulsated like millions of tiny grains of sugar sprinkled on a child’s tongue.
 “I had told him a number of times that he could do anything he wanted to my body, but he never overtly responded with suggestions of rude abuse. I knew he was delicately testing me, and I was responding like fireworks over the Queen Mary.” “Layla?” Bandit’s voice could be heard at the door. I jumped to my feet again. I had finished the beer, but I subconsciously stroked the bottle. The glass canister was hot to the touch. I set it down, embarrassed, and grabbed the recorder. “She’s right here,” I said like some sort of teen-age idiot. I’d been mesmerized by the way her small, delicate lips seemed to whisper the words. Bandit walked into the room and looked down at the woman who instinctively held out her soft hand to the big man, and he pulled her to her feet. She seemed to effortlessly lean forward and raise her shapely form to her tiptoes to kiss the hairy bastard. The kiss was long and lingering, like they said something to one another through their lips. Abruptly, I felt unwanted. “I’ll be on my way,” I said and backed toward the door. Bandit followed and held out his hand as if to shake. “How ya doin’?” he asked as I backed out the door. I wasn’t sure what had happened to me in there, or even what I heard. “Ah, fine,” I finally said. “Good,” he said. “We want you to pull through, brother. But we can’t carry you any longer.” I looked at my worn out cowboy boots. “I’ll give it my best shot.” Bandit looked at me with the wary gaze of a learned man who had heard that particular line numerous times. He was right. “Call this number,” he said, handing me a card with his back to Layla. His voice was low but direct. “Your final interview.” “Okay,” I said and stepped out onto the deck. As I turned and looked at the lights on the mammoth cranes perched over the harbor, I compared my disastrous life to Bandit’s. He didn’t have much money, but he sure had a good time, all the time. In contrast, I had a bad time all the time. I floundered from one situation to the next, avoiding responsibility and goals. He relished them. Each project was a joy to accomplish. To me, each project was an obstacle to get around. But I wanted to change. I looked at the card. It was one of his, and I turned it over. It simply said, “Good luck. Here’s Coral’s number.” I didn’t know this girl, or anything about her, except of late I had heard the name whispered, but there was no context. I went to Harold’s bar and to the pay phone in back. I dialed the number and it rang only once. “Yes.” The voice was direct and brash. “Is that you, Snake?” Then the voice snickered. “Yeah, it is,” I said. “When are we getting together?” Again, the voice was abrupt and direct. “Well,” I said, “Whenever it would be…” “How about now?” She said as if the decision was made. “Come on, Snake. Let’s get snaky.” “Well,” I stumbled again. This was beginning to become a habit. “Well, what?” she snapped. “I’ll see you at the Acapulco Mexican restaurant at the harbor in half an hour.” “How will I know…,” I attempted to ask. “You’ll know,” she said. “I’m a blond. Meet me out front, and don’t forget to bring your snake.” She giggled and hung up.
 I stood there completely befuddled. I could feel this woman’s aura was like a Wyoming thunderstorm in August. Her voice reeked of sexual power. I drove my creaking ’52 Ford pickup to the harbor and went into the restaurant for another beer. I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. I hadn’t had a woman in years. Sure, I fucked a bar floozy from time to time, but we were both too drunk to know what the hell was going on each time. This was different, way different for me, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I stroked my security blanket and drank the soothing liquid in hope of some clarity. After my second Corona, I went outside and smoked a cigarette. She pulled up in less than a half-hour. I knew it was her as soon as she got out of the car. It was as if I had walked into a whorehouse during the Depression and was surrounded by 15 sex-hungry hookers. She walked up to me, grabbed the cigarette out of my mouth, took a hit and tossed it into the channel. She was just over 5 feet tall, but her legs were muscular, her tits enormous and bouncing as she shoved them into my waist. She ground herself against me and ran her hand over my crouch aggressively, groping and pulling at me. For too many times this afternoon, I attempted to step back, but she kept coming. “I want you,” she whispered. “Come on. Let’s just go back to my place and I’ll demonstrate the rest of your interview.” “I can’t,” I said unconvincingly. “Not tonight.” “We’ll see,” she said, taking me by the hand and pulling me toward the bar. Her ass was plump, but perfectly hourglass shaped. Her short-shorts and top were meant to be peeled off easily. She directed me to a corner table and shouted to the waiter to bring her a gold Cadillac margarita with a shot of Gold on the side. She pulled her chair around so she could reach my thigh. Her eyes were piercing blue and her blond locks bounced around her bubbly features 3 inches above her shoulders. She was obviously a sexual machine. “Well, where’s the tape recorder?” she asked. “Fire that thing up. This will be fun.” She squeezed my thigh and groped at my crotch again. I was beginning to respond, although I wasn’t sure what to do with this one. I had never had an aggressive woman, and this one was more forceful than most men. I turned on the recorder like I knew what I was doing and pulled the pad out of the folder, along with a pen. “Well?” I said. “There’s that word again,” she muttered and her voice lowered as if she was about to discuss a death in the family. Her features calmed and she pulled her hand back for my groin. She quieted like she was reliving some momentous event. “I was tied down to the bed, completely naked. I remember that he left me that way for what seemed like hours, but every minute I became more excited. He put in a video with women making love to women. I hadn’t seen this one and each scene made me want to touch myself more. When he returned, he took another bandanna and rolled it up and began to drag it up and down my body. “He did it for a minute or so, and then stopped, and he began to ask me questions. We started talking about sex, the girls, girls I knew, Sin. I wanted him real bad. Then he would touch me with the ends of the bandanna again, as if it was the tongue of a snake dancing over my body, around my nipples, and down between my shaven crotch. It was delicate. He stopped several times and once he leaned over as if he was going to finally suck one of my nipples and just blew on it, then my other one. I arched my back as far as I could, but my nipples only hardened more and jiggled just below his mouth. I knew he wanted me, but he held back. Very softly, as if we could make love like this forever, he began to touch me, and kiss me, but then he would stop, just as I thought he would dive in and fuck the daylights out of me. Just then he would stop and talk to me some more. “It was the longest time before he went down on me, then he only touched my pussy. It was the most incredible orgasm I had ever had, and after I came, he left me alone to squirm for more. When he made love to me…” her voice tapered off suddenly and she got up from her chair, downed the shot of Cuervo and walked to the window sucking on the lemon slice. She stared out at the rippling channel for the longest time. Then suddenly she turned to me and her serious expression was replaced with a devilish grin, “Then he started all over again, only different. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” She grabbed my hand as I stuffed the pad I had never touched and the tape recorder into the folder Sin had given me and followed her out the door. Whatta night.
 Sources:
|
