She’s too smart for the Wild Hair, that’s for sure. “Iron Jack won’t want you writing up club business. And besides, bunnies don’t come to church.”
“But do the bunnies bring in booze or food? I could eavesdrop.”
“Only the ol’ ladies do that.”
“What about a house mouse?”
I think about it. “I’m not sure. The Wild Hair hasn’t had a mouse since I’ve been a prospect. I don’t know where they go.”
She frowns. “But I really want the sexual experience. I’m clearly too awkward to get it on my own.”
She’s convinced nobody wants her. “You know, it’s easy to go from house mouse to club bunny. But once you start banging everyone, you can’t go back.”
She rests her chin on her arms, which are folded across the back of the chair. “You’re right. Okay. We’ll do it your way. I’ll come in as a house mouse. See what I can learn. And when I pick my first mark, I’ll move up.”
Finally. “I’ll let Iron Jack know.”
“Good!” She hops up. “The girls are going to kill me. They think this is a terrible idea. But I’m excited. When can I move in?”
“Iron Jack will probably have one of the ol’ ladies contact you. They’ll show you the ropes.”
“Yes!” She runs up to me and throws her arms around my neck. “I wanted it to be you, Merrick, but I get it. Surely, there’s someone in the club I can handle. Who knows, maybe I’ll love the whole life. I’ve never ridden a motorcycle.”
I hold on to the moment, her body pressed against mine, immersed in her floral scent. She’s such a study in opposites. Sad. Excited. Innocent. Wild.
I force myself to pull away. “Be careful about asking for a ride,” I tell her. “A lot of bikers have an NFNF policy.”
“NFNF?”
“No fuck, no fun.”
Her eyes go wide. She’s unbearably close. “So, to get a ride, I have to have sex with them?”
“It’s common. It’s a perk of being in an MC.”
“Do you do that?”
So many times. Motorcycles are the easiest way to spread a lady’s legs.
But to her, I say, “I’m just a prospect.”
She pats my arm. “I hope you get some big-boob sex soon. And I’m sorry I naively propositioned so many people accidentally. I didn’t know about the NFNF.”
I want to argue with her. That I’d totally give her a ride. Every kinda ride.
But she has plans. I need to let her sow her motorcycle oats and move on. I’m weirdly invested in her, and that is no good for my future in a club where she intends to take on every member who’s game. I can’t fight them all.
Marietta picks up her purse and heads for the door. “Maybe I’ll get to strip for you at the clubhouse! I know these don’t tempt you.” She smacks her chest again. “But you can admire my moves!” She grasps another of the poles, somehow lifting her body to spin around it even though it’s thick and square.
She does have good moves.
She hops down and waves, twisting the bolt to the door and disappearing into the sunshine.
I feel like I’ve been left in the wake of a hurricane. She’s naive and awkward and inexperienced and unsure of herself.
The club can probably fix pretty much all of that.
But how the hell am I going to let someone else have her? Much less a whole slew of them?
