Raven19:40 Sep 05 2014
Times Read: 555
She picked up the glass, looking at the ice floating in the brownish liquor, the biker’s bar sound muted by the high back bench booth they was in that stunk of old whiskey and piss, sweet and other body odors. “You know the bartender wets his drinks down so much, I am surprised one of these guys hasn’t beat the fuck out of him. But then I am in the South, maybe that is how you all like it.” She looked over at the man sitting next to her, smiled. “Not up to chatting? Well…” She rimmed the glass with her finger, looking about the darken back room to the bar, hearing a few ’non’ bar sounds that told her she could sit in the booth for a while without anyone coming to bother them. As a woman soft moan floated to her ears, she lean back, working the glass in her hand.
“Funny- I feel like talking. You know I grew up in a bar like this one. It wasn’t as big but it was home. Mom and Dad own it, my two older brothers work in it still. Outside of San Diego CA, sure you wouldn‘t know the small town even if I told you. Yeap- can’t tell by looking at me but I am a Cali girl” She smirked, her looks so far from the blond beach girl type. “I worked in that bar since I turned old enough to sweep up in the mornings before school. Hell- I drop out of high school to work. When we was busy, bikes lined the main street of our small town, people getting all bent out of shape. Fucking Mayor tried to buy the place, Dad told him to fuck himself up the ass. God, I hated that town. But I learned a skill of bartending from my Mom. I can make any drink out there- Holiday sunset, Sex in a Hammock, Juice of a Virgin… hell any drink you wanted by the time I was 16 years old. But I tell you I am a purists at heart. Nothing like a good old whiskey on the rocks for my ten bucks.”
She ran her finger up the glass side, the ice melting, the glass cool against her warm skin. “Yeah, I grew up around bikers. Some nice but mostly pricks. Or you get those want to be bankers, lawyers, blue collar guys who just play at it. But most of them are dicks- your lot don’t know how to treat a lady.” She smiled, looking down at her leather corset, the leather min skirt up to her waist, when she stood and pulled it down barely covered her ass. But then, this is how she always dressed. “But then I don’t know how to be a lady so… guess I get what I ask for. Guess we are in the same dive for a reason, huh?” She did not get a reply, nor expected one.
She sat forward, picking up his beer bottle, starting to peel off the label. “Guess that is what lead me here. At the age of “knowing it all and fuck up” 18 I hitched a ride to Daytona Florida for Biker’s Week, something my parents wouldn’t let me go to but Dad and my brother went sometimes. I was left home doing the fucking work for three so they could go have fun. So… I grab a ride the one year when they were not going and off I went. Straight down, only stops we had was when the fucker who gave me the ride wanted to ride me instead. He was so doped out, I wasn’t that often. But I got to Biker’s Week. Man, I loved it. I fit in, I could get as wild as I wanted without Dad or the brothers trying to stop me, or Mom telling me I was ruining my life. Fuck them- I was free, and I enjoyed it.” She smiled, think back on those years. When had it stop being so much fun? The answer screamed in her head- “Years ago.”
She piled the wet torn label on the table, old habit from cleaning off tables, make it easy for the server. “So after bike week I got a job at bartending at The Boot Hill Saloon. You know it?” She looked over at the man, then shrugged. “Sure you do. It is the best bar in Daytona. I made some mad cash there, spent it too. Had a nice two bedroom upstairs apartment that you could see, hear the ocean from. Nothing fancy but you could go to sleep with the sunrise, listening to the ocean. Man… it was good. Get up just before sunset, take a jog on the beach. I had a room mate who helped out on the rent. Had… yeah.. . Had is right.”
Knowing she would pay for it later- she picked up the glass and drunk half the water down drink as the image of her room mate Candy came front and center during this trip down memory lane. “Candy, and yes that was her real name. Candy fit the Cali girl even tho she was from Alaska. She wanted to get away from her home- Dad was the opposite of mine. All controlling, telling her what to wear, who her friends were. But what do you expect from a fucking cop. Not only a cop but a fucking chief. And her Mom wasn’t much better, afraid of him, bowing down to his demands. Weak bitch. But Candy- she ran. Her Dad would call, threaten her. But she was 19, he couldn’t touch her. We meet when she came into the bar to ask about the server job. Blond hair, perfect skin, no ink. She just screamed virgin. The owner hired her and used it, telling her to keep the look. Well- she might of kept the look, and she got tips like crazy, but she had fun. Yeah, she had fun. Hell, plenty of months she made the rent by whoring out. She would laugh it was so much fun she shouldn’t charge.“ She laugh, smile on her face. “And we drop so much acid and coke… man… lucky that wasn‘t what killed us.”
She took a sip of the drink, thinking of her friend. “When we went to party together they would call us the angel and devil. She was all light and I was the darkness.” She ran her damp hand into her short spiked hair, the light catching the bluish highlights that was very much like her mother’s at her age. And the reason her Mom had given her the name Raven as she was born with a full head of the dark hair. “Instead I come home early one morning to something else that did the deed.” She drunk the drink down in one long gulp as she remember that night. She had walked into the home, decorated with hand me downs found at the goodwill stores. She heard noise from Candy’s room, a soft thump like someone fell from the bed. She had smiled, thinking Candy was making good use of her getting out of work a few hours before her, having to stay and restock the bar that night. She wanted a shower, walk on the beach, some food as the sun rise… she looked up when Candy’s bedroom door open. A man she did not know step out, buckling his belt. “Hey.” she said, not wanting this to turn strange.
“You are home I see.” he said in a strange accent. She drop her bag on the floor, thinking what to say to that stupid fucking comment. “Yeah, any business of yours?” He moved to the couch, flopping down, his biker boots going on top of the old trunk they used for a coffee table. “I might of saved some time, I could of came to the bar.” “What? Look you need to go. Candy!” “You might want to leave her be, she is resting in peace in there.” he said as Raven moved toward the bedroom door. Great Candy is sleeping while she deals with this prick. “Fine. You- OUT!” “And there it is- that spunk. I knew you would be my next.“ She turned toward the front door, going to enjoy show his ass out, but he was there in a blink. She felt his arm around her waist, him turning her so her back was against his front. He jerked her head to the side and bite into her neck.
It was the next night she had found Candy. He had fucked her raw, black and blue marks on her pale skin, bites at her neck, inner thighs. Her eyes swollen shut, teeth knocked out. It seems Candy had not been the one he had wanted to embraced, he had been waiting for Raven and got bored. Candy had fought and he had enjoyed it. Seems Candy had been like her dad at the end, fighting a good fight. Too bad the evil had been so much stronger. A trait homed in when he had showed up when his little girl drop off the face of the earth, no clue other then Raven saying she had meet some guy that she didn’t know, left without notice. Candy’s cell phone had pinged off a few towers up to several states away, thinks to her Maker hiding the phone in a trunk of a out of state car, till the battery had shut it down. She had helped him get rid of the body, sharks were such hungry animals. Candy’s father had sworn he would find out what happen to his ‘baby girl’ and make her pay. He knew she was hiding something, and in his eyes that meant she was as guilty. He wasn’t wrong on that part.
A few months later she left with her Master, had travel some, going here and there as he taught her what he had made her. “I asked him why he did it. I had to know. You know what he said?” She put the glass down hard on the table, and turned to the man who was slump beside her “He said it was because of a bar fight he witness a few weeks before. I don’t even remember it but he said I broke up a fight between three big husky bikers with a ball bat. Hell- that happened most fucking night at that bar.” She threw her hands up, still not getting it. She took his beer, drinking it as she was going to be sick anyway, might as well enjoy it. “So we ended up in New Orleans. There was a red headed queen bitch that got his jocks all up in a bind, and she wouldn’t even talk to him. Seems him being French didn‘t impress her enough, and I loved it.” She laughed, enjoying her Maker’s insulted look. “I had to take his anger, he sure fucked me enough during that time. But seems all the French talk made him homesick. So he wanted us to go across the pond or some shit like that, go visit his other child he made, some guy. I refused. Oh.. He wasn’t happy but … I guess that spunk he loved about me showed. We fought, but in the end he left me with a little cash and told me if he came back to the US he would hunt me up. He gave me his cell number but I burned it the second he left. I hope I never see the fucker again.”
She slug the rest of the beer down, the memory road ending at this dive, at this booth with a male who had a idea she was going to give him a blowjob. Well… she might of hinted at that when what she needed was a blood. But he had been stupid enough, and by the barely buzz she had he had not been nearly enough drunk to think she would touch his cock. She pushed at him, shaking him awake. Once he open his eyes, she moved away, standing to her 5’8 inch, 140 lbs. At 29 she will still a stopper, just not a show stopper.
Other then the hair she had been blessed with boobs that was just right, firm and shaped in perfect round shapes. Her eyes where her father’s cold gray, her butt her Mothers that she always though was too big for her thin frame, not like her Mom big body. She always loved the women that had the flat butt, so much easier to fit that ass when you have a thin waist. She pulled her skirt down over her ass, knowing her checks showed right at the hem. If she had had the perfect butt, it would of covered, damn it. She used the toe of her ‘fuck me’ black and silver 6 inch heels shoes to finish waking up the man, a swift kick under the table. “Hey hey…” he slurred his words. “What.. Fuck.. You never did anything. I got you that drink..” She smiled, reaching for her black leather jacket, him catching her wrist in a firm grip. She looked into his eyes with her cold gray ones, her tone soft. “You will want to let me go.” “Sure- after you put that hand to good use, bitch.” He pulled at her to bring her toward his crotch, thinking those breast that threaten to pop out of the corset would be nice to look at as she pumped his cock.. Wait,why is it soft? How long they been here? “You went to sleep, so I don’t owe you nothing. Maybe next time you should take the little pill that makes it easy for limp dick assholes like you get some.”
She twisted her arm, making him either let go or get a sprang wrist. Old bartender move, one of many that kept the lose hands off her body all those years. She pulled on her jacket as she walked off, looking to see a bare chest woman riding the penis of a biker a few booths down. She smiled as her own ‘male’ let out a “Well… fuck you bitch! You wasn’t worth the drink!’ She flip him off with both fingers from both hands as she walked out of the back room into the main bar, never turning around. She got what she came for, time to get some road under her before dawn. She was heading south, ready to be done with Georgia. Maybe New York was a place to land a while but she wasn’t set on it, taking her time for the trip. Few more states before she had to feed again.
She walked away from the street lights of the parking lot, the sound of the drunks even out here like she never left home. God she hated these places, but always ended up in them. She walked toward the wooded back area off to the side of the bar. A black Harley sat, no chrome on her bike. She touched the tank, the blue sparkle catching what little light there was. She moved to the saddle bags, pulled out her leather pants. If anyone could of seen the show of her changing they would of seen the 8 tatts she had. One on her right ankle of a tribal ban. Up her left thigh was a dragon that was attacking, from knee to hip. On both legs, back of the thigh she had bows, and seemed to always wear black fishnet stocking that ended right at the bow, like now. She left them on as she pulled on her pants, changing the boots for black army boots.
She released the corset, her bare breast falling free. She had to say it- she loved her breast. She cupped them, flicking her nails over the hard nipples… damn she needed to get laid. But fuck her if she would do it with anything this place had to offer. Pulling out a tshirt you could get the view of the rest of the tatts- spread angel wings on her lower back, a reaper in the grave yard starting at her neck, down half way of her back. A saying on her belly, right above her belly button “Fuck life- take it all.“ And the last one a quote that wrap around her upper right arm “Every saint has a past. Every sinner has a future.”
She pulled on a old worn HaleStorm tshirt, and put the clothing back in her leather saddle bag that the fat tail wore once the exhaust pipe is lowered. She was getting ready to put in ear buds when a grunt made her listen, two males having at it. Funny- as a woman she could get laid in a booth at most bars, hell, gang bangs are not out of the question. But two males doing it… no wonder they are in the woods, hiding. These fucking red necks would hang them from a tree, thinking it was god’s way or some bullshit like that. She pulled on her helmet as the song started as she fired up her bike, headed North to the song “Here’s To Us.” blasted in her ears.
COMMENTS
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Isis101
22:03 Sep 05 2014
Cool...!
I love to read what other members write. Too bad there aren't more short stories to read here!
Vampirewitch39
17:29 Sep 06 2014
While it is a story- it is for a role playing game. Had to have a basic start to role up a player, and I like to let my mind wonder.... and this one came to be.
:)