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“Poor thing is going to wear herself out unless she calms down a little.” Mom reaches into her purse and pulls out a miniature coloring book and a pack of crayons. Artie immediately grabs the book, chirps out a sweet ‘thank you’, and flips through the pages for a picture to color. All the illustrations are simple and cute, from a sunglasses-wearing sun to a smiling donut.

“Might be the first time she’s actually talked to bikers. Not everyone’s brave enough to associate with us, even though we’re regular people.” Wolf shrugs. He picks up a discarded straw wrapper and fiddles with it. His elbow brushes against me and even that light of a touch knocks the breath from my lungs. “Most of us are regular people, anyway. Got some freaks just like any other large group.”

“Where do you work these days, Wolf?” Mom asks. I really can’t believe how normal she’s acting right now, inviting people to sit with us, carrying on conversations. Honestly, what’s gotten into her? Because I need some of that for myself.

“I work security at the Canteen,” he says.

“And what about in the motorcycle club? Don’t some of your members have positions? I seem to remember that you might have had one, or am I misremembering?”

Wolf lifts his thick dark brows while twisting the flattened straw wrapper between his fingers. “No, you’re right. I’m the sergeant-at-arms. That means I keep everyone under control.”

I know it means more than that, but I guess he’s giving my mom the sanitized version.

While Artie colors, he occasionally lifts his head to stare hard at Wolf. It’s almost like he’s checking to make sure he’s still there.

Wolf turns to me, and as he does, his knee bumps mine under the table. I snap my legs together, accidentally squeezing my thighs together. A tingling begins just behind my clit. I struggle to ignore it, to think about literally anything else even though it would be so good to reach down and give myself a little rub to take the edge off.

Or I know someone who would be very willing to do it for me… No, stop!

Wolf’s been speaking and now he’s finished, looking at me with obvious expectation. I haven’t heard a damn word. He tosses the now-crumpled bit of straw aside on the table and repeats, “What do you do for work, Julia?”

“I-I’m a baker,” I stammer. “I mean, I ran a bakery for a little while. I don’t do anything right now.”

“I didn’t know you baked,” he says, looking curious.

“Well, it was something I started as a hobby, and it went from there.” A hobby I had picked up to help me cope with my heartbreak.

The waitress returns, bearing a tray loaded with our meals. Wolf’s steak is practically half a cow, and the baked potato is the size of a football.

Eating diminishes the conversation. I eat mechanically, putting tasteless bites of meatloaf in my mouth, chewing, swallowing, repeating. Mom takes over my usual task of helping Artie when necessary and the food isn’t nearly enough of a distraction from Wolf attacking his plate like he hasn’t eaten since the last time I saw him. He’s feral, vicious, turning the simple act of consumption into something almost sexual.

The tingling behind my clit grows worse. Against my will, I wish he would put his face between my legs and make a meal out of me.

Stop!

When it comes time to pay, Mom asks for everything to go on one check. Wolf frowns at her. “I don’t need charity, ma’am.”

“Call me Ruby.” Mom fishes in her purse for her wallet.

“Ruby, you don’t got to do that. I’m good for it,” he protests.

“I’m sure of it. Some other time, you can get the tab. This time, say thank you and shut up.”

My head twitches at the sudden display of sass. I’m terrified that it’s come at the wrong time, with the wrong person.

Wolf sits in silence for long enough that I’m on the verge of grabbing my family and jumping out the window when he throws his head back and laughs aloud. “Alright. Thank you.”

Mom nods seriously, and pays. When we walk out, Artie’s holding onto Wolf’s hand. They make such a pair that my chest aches.

I know Artie will be upset that we have to part ways now. I don’t really want to end things either, even though I should.

I’m just not thinking properly. My pussy’s the one doing the talking. “You could… come to the house with us. I think we’ll be watching a movie and having dessert too, at some point.”

“I won’t say no to that,” Wolf says, and Artie bounces around in excitement.

Wolf looks at me in such an intense and searching way that he must be seeing right through me. I bet he can see how my cheeks are flushed, maybe even smell my arousal. My hope is that having Artie and Mom around will help keep me under control… even though that didn’t seem to actually be working while we were inside the diner.

I don’t know. Nothing I do or say makes any sense anymore. And maybe that’s okay right now. I’m in flux, not yet divorced, living in temporary accommodations. I don’t have to figure things out just yet. I just need to make sure I don’t screw up.