“Not the newer members, but most of us do, yeah,” I said.
Most people who weren’t familiar with biker clubs were surprised at our organization. Most outsiders figured we just fucked around on our bikes, but it took structure to keep a club going strong.
“But obviously the accountant is the most badass,” Claire said. “Even more badass than the enforcer.”
I grinned at her sarcasm. I liked how she was game to joke about anything and everything.
“Technically, my official title is Treasurer,” I said, matching her mocking tone.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Treasurer,” Claire said.
Just then her phone rang and Claire leapt up with a cry that the food had arrived. The next few minutes were a flurry of opening all the dishes and filling our plates.
What would it be like, I found myself wondering, to spend every evening like this? Not bad, I realized. It wouldn’t be bad at all.
I peered over at Claire as she wielded her chopsticks like an expert to scoop up a pork dumpling. Once we had settled back on the couch with our food, Claire started flipping through the TV channels again.
“Wait, stop!” I cried out. “It’s Shark Tank!”
“Really?” she asked.
“It’s amazing,” I said. “I watched it once when I was home sick, and now I’m addicted.”
The episode featured a few guys who had designed a special kind of surfboard.
“They are so bad at public speaking,” Claire said.
“Yeah, they’ll never get an offer,” I said. “Being able to sell yourself is just as important as the product.”
One episode bled into another, and pretty soon we were both offering our opinions on business products as if we were the experts. During one commercial break, we cleared up the dishes and put away the leftover food. During another one, we refilled our wine glasses.
Somehow, we ended up sitting closer. I had my legs out in front of me and one arm slung over the back of the couch while Claire sat cross-legged, her one knee grazing my thigh. When I was done with my wine, I leaned forward and placed it on the coffee table. As I leaned back, I grazed Claire’s knee with my fingers, as gently as I could. I looked up to see how she had responded.
Her company was nice (even better than I had thought it would be), but I had come over for a reason. Claire gave me a small smile and leaned even closer. She shifted herself until she had turned on the couch and was facing me. I reached up and placed my hand on her neck. I could see the wine had stained the inside of her lips a deep red.
Her lips brushed mine, soft and sweet, and I pulled her closer. It was different kissing her sober. In fact, it was better. I was able to feel more and taste more. I was hyper aware of her soft and full lower lip, and the gentle sighs escaping from her mouth. Every second seemed so filled with sensation.
There was no frenzy like before. No rush to go all the way before we missed our chance. We enjoyed ourselves, and we went slowly.
After a long while, I pulled away to see that Claire had somehow wormed her way into my lap, her legs hanging over my far leg. My arms were wrapped around her waist, and her warm torso was pressed against my chest.
She blinked up at me and smiled. “You wanna watch more Shark Tank?”
And so we did, but Claire stayed ensconced in my arms.
“So what would you invent?” she asked. “For Shark Tank.”
“Probably a cleaning product,” I said. “Those always do pretty well.”
“But that’s boring,” Claire said. “Also you have to be specific.”
“I don’t know enough about cleaning,” I said.
“Ugh, you would never get an offer.” I could tell she was smiling even though she was faced away from me; I could sense it.
“What would you invent?” I asked.
“Maybe a home lie detector test,” Claire said. “So all the desperate wives who hire me can just scan their husbands with an app and know they’re full of bull.”
