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C4 - Sunday /

{How boring is your fucking day, if…} (You Requested A Cook Out?)

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Might makes right - Only when the right are the mighty.

I woke up the next morning to pink. Everything was pink. The thought, 'Mini stroke', came to mind. For a second or two.

Have you ever heard the phrase, 'Red sky at night, sailors delight. Red sky at morning, sailors warning.'? Well that only holds true, IF you are traveling toward the east, AND all the storms, you'd ever encounter, were traveling west. That's not the way life works. Everything swirls and twirls and spirals. It's all vortexes and waves. The only thing that runs a straight line, is our perception of time. And even that can get… Fuzzy, here and there. Especially the late seventies, early eighties, but all I hear I missed was disco.

Now how's that for a train load of thoughts first thing in the morning.

And then, I became aware, that dawn had entered the day.

I could feel the thunder brewing in the distance. And another pressure growing in very close proximity. There was a warm, wet, pressure, around a very hard member of my immediate family.

I looked down and saw dark hair, draped across the sides of my stomach. It was flowing, like black water on my skin. Gliding up and back as her head rose up and then slipping back down as she took me back in. She felt me stir and looked up. Those flecks in her irises sparkled with a different light. Their normal gold flicker struck me with the subtle hue of Black Hills' Rose.

She smiled with her eyes. It was a devious sight.

Watching myself, slick in and out of her mouth while she hungrily teased, was a very, very, very, nice wake up call. She kissed her way up my body to my lips.

"Hi."

I didn't get the reply out before her mouth was on mine.

When she finally came up for air I greeted her back. "Morning, to you too."

"I hope you don't mind."

"Mind? If I had gotten up first, you'd have been on the receiving end of that."

"Hmmm, I may have to sleep in late tomorrow."

"What time is it anyway?"

"Time to take a shower and go do the silliness."

"Fuck me."

We were a little late to the festivities. A shower, that should have taken less time than it would take for two to shower separately, ended up a little longer than the combination of our norms. Thankfully, others were later than we were, so nobody gave us any shit. Yay us. She was actually the first one for her crew to arrive. I was second to last for mine.

And still this day was just as fucking boring as the last two. But you knew that, by the way that this was going.

The only fun I had was with Pamela. The girl that watched us walk down the hall after the presentation. She was this stringy little strawberry blonde. She was borderline anorexic, but toned. And she filled out her shirt, rather disproportionately. Almost comically.

I was bound with her for the three legged race. We devastated the competition. We took our time, taking big steps, with her calling out a cadence of 'outside, inside'. It wasn't even fair. The closest pair, in any of our races, wasn't even at the last turn around when we looked back over the finish line.

*How boring is your fucking day, if you're bragging about winning a family-funday race?*

Emily, that poor girl got paired with a meat head. He tried dragging her through the course. I felt sorry for her. But her spirit seemed untarnished at the end of it all.

After we got back to our room we sponge bathed and teased each other for a bit. I took out my lenses and popped on my frames.

Think Wild Thing Ricky Vaughn, without the skulls… Yet.

"Why are you wearing glasses?"

"You. Are about to find out."

"Contacts?"

"Yeah. They work better for the camera. And they don't give life that fishbowl feel."

"I can't wear them. Something about my irises. But I only need correction for real far away. That's why these are always on my head when I'm reading or working."

"Have you got jeans?"

"Mmhmm."

"You might wanna wear em."

(Suspiciously Eyeballed: Achievement - Unlocked)

A few minutes later we arrived outside at the front of the hotel. About half the others were there waiting for the lodge shuttle to go to the general store. We were almost in the lot when I heard the sweet sound that I was waiting for. Half a minute later three Harleys and a beat to shit van, with a trailer on the back, pulled up and came to a stop.

Emily looked at me with 'what the fuck' eyes, when I took her by the waist and made a casual bee line.

The others backed away from the din. Some with trepidation, others with full on fright. When the bikes shut down, you could have heard a feather hit the grass.

The biggest, ugliest, one of the group looked at me and just grunted. "Wolf."

"Tank."

He rose up off the bike, and kept rising.

"Tank, Emily. Emily, Tank. That's Meat and Wifey over there, and that's Big Frank. Big? Is that a sporty? What happened to the wing?"

"Goldie's fine. You were right though. These things get great mileage and are so much better on the tight windies than the goldie. She's still my touring ride, but locally this girl is just fine." He leaned to his right, "And she likes the way it sits. Beccah, Wolf and..."

"Emily."

"Hi."

"Nice to meet," I looked at Tank, "Dude, you're step mom's gonna be half your age."

"Mmmphf," Tank took a step forward and grabbed me like a rag doll, "Missed you fucker."

"Missed you too Sasquatch. Wheres Thundera?"

"Chaser."

The door to the beater opened and one cowboy boot slipped into view. Then another. And then the door closed. And there she was. Thor's, motherfuckin, twin sister. Six feet of cut and sculpted density, in jean shorts and a cut off tee, A shirt that I kinda felt sorry for and wouldn't mind having been at the very same time.

"Well, if it isn't the Skinny Scary Wolf."

"Little Red. You're still with the gargoyle eh?"

"Yeah you know how it is with stray dogs, they follow you home, you feed em and clean em and…"

"The next thing you know, they're sleeping on your bed," we both mused.

She wrapped me up and my head almost disappeared in her chest.

"Sam as much as I would love to die right here, you're breaking my ribs."

"Oh please you love it. Who's this? She's cute."

"Em, Sam. Sam, Em."

"Nice to meet you Em."

"Nnice to mmeet yyou too, Sam. Ggorgeous."

Emily's face, rushed.

"You're a bit of beauty yourself."

"Wolf, what's with the civs?" Meat chimed.

"Team Building Excursion."

"Seriously?"

"Yepper."

"Come on let's get outta here," Sam chuckled, "these kids look like they'll need a diaper change we hang out any longer."

She led us around to the back of the van and sitting on the trailer was a slightly chopped sporty, with a fat bob tank and baby apes. It was polished flat black, with black cut off pipes, and a deep brown, leather king and queen seat, that ended in a mid-back, padded rest. The scroll work in gold, resembled a horse, birthing out of a fire.

"?That's Taz's ride. I thought I was getting Tricks old beast."

Meat handed me the keys, "Trick's riding around Can-ayda, Taz is in Kuwait, three months left in his tour. We all take turns keeping her from dying from loneliness. As per his request. Its your turn, mother fucker."

"Who dinged the fender?"

"His dummass little brother. Which is why, we've been given this quest, to keep it out of his hands."

After the bike was rolled off the trailer Meat handed me a helmet then handed Emily hers.

"I'm-m ga-going onn thhhthat?"

"Yes ma'am," Meat replied.

"Bbbut I dow-nt know hahow to."

"For you. It's easy. All milady has to do, is keep her back straight, and not fall off." He said it with a flourish.

"You still doing that renaissance gig?"

"Hell yeah bro, the pays good, the times are good, and the women are fine."

"And they don't mind showing some titty at the end of the day." Wifey chimed.

"Still a bit of a perv eh Lane?"

"A bit? Don't insult me. I was a paid professional. Just like you. Get your skinny ass over here and give me a hug, Fuzznuts."

"Love it when you talk dirty Lane."

After the last hug broke and the final introductions given, I saddled in and kicked up the stand, turned the fuel flow on, turned the key, twisted the throttle and hit the button. So did the other three. The crack and rumble, that resounded when all four bikes started up, shook the windows at the lodge's entrance. I'm pretty sure it filled up some of those hypothetical diapers too.

Emily, hesitantly, slid into the seat behind me.

"He's right you know. All you need to do, is hold onto me. And make like your back, is part of the bike. Don't lean, or make sudden movements, just relax, hold on, and go with it. If you don't like it, I'll pull over, you can ride with Sam."

(anybody, who has ever conversed with someone else on a motorcycle that was running, especially a harley or an indian, just read that, a little bit louder, than you who have not)

"Okay." she timidly replied.

I could still feel her shaking, so I gave her a quick kiss.

"Lean forward a bit. Stick your crotch in the seat."

She did and I revved the engine.

Her eyes went wide, "Oh."

"Yeah, if you get nervous, just do that, til it passes," I said. With the same devious look she had sported first thing this morning.

I pulled in the clutch lever, kicked the sporty down into first, eased the throttle and released the clutch, in a slow, smooth, motion. I felt the grab. She rolled onto the black top like a breeze on the water. A few more feet, Ahhh, there's her balance.

God, I missed that.

Forty two minutes later we pulled up this dirt road, that broke into a clearing by a pond.

Emily had this calm yet energized look in her eyes. She stretched and breathed in deep. Her arms wrapped snugly around me.

"When you said you were getting us transportation for a couple days. This was Not what I expected, at all."

"How'd you like it?"

"Scary. But amazing."

"Yeah it is. And if your really, really lucky, it never fucking changes."

Sam pulled in with the chase truck and we unloaded the grill and the coolers.

"You asked for a cook out. This good enough?"

"Mmmhmm."

Once the fire was started and all the prep work finished, we all stripped down to nothing and jumped into the

"Ice!

Mother!

Fucking!

Cold!"

water,

"Fuck! A warning woulda been nice. The last time I was here this pond was almost warm."

"Shit bro. The last time you were here we didn't have the same winter. And it was midsummer. This year was a cluster fuck. There's still snow in the pile up in my yard. And some on the ridge by the falls."

Emily had been hesitant at first, but when she realized that it was natural for this crew, she joined right in. When she broke the surface she was in shock. Her nipples looked painfully taut. They were about a quarter inch longer than their excited state and their skin had an overstretched sheen. Her arms were wrapped around herself so tight, I swore her hands touched at her spine.

"Fa fa fa fareezing."

She had goosebumps everywhere, but then again we all did. She wasn't the only one stuttering either. She suffered through it though. And she looked like she enjoyed it as well.

When we had enough, of this uncomfortably, energizing refreshment, we made our way back to the towels and the heat. We put our pants on, grabbed some beers and warmed up by the grill. The sun was warm so nobody bothered with shirts, not even Em. The steaks and potatoes smelled like heaven on that apple-wood fire.

They tasted even better on the tongue.

After we ate we took the coals from the grill and put them in the pit, amidst some scattered logs we had foraged by the treeline. The fire was warm enough that we had to sit five feet away, by the time the sun was even thinking about setting. Emily was stretched up against me, her bare back against my chest, staring at the twi-night sky. Her hair smelled like spring water and wind.

We caught each other up and joked and talked about the future. We reminisced and planned and remembered those that we lost, to some cause or another. When the boys got up to load up the truck, I joined them. The girls stayed behind to chit chat.

Samantha took my spot next to Emily on a log.

"So how did you meet Joe?"

"We mamet on Thhursday at this ss sstupid thing."

Meat gave me a look, while we tore down the grill, "My sister stutters like that."

"Still?"

"Yeah."

Travis' sister was nine years old when her innocence was stripped from her, along with the propensity for steady speech. If watching her best friend get hit by a car wasn't bad enough, she also had to lay witness as the driver got out, grabbed the girls lifeless body like a rag doll, and tossed it out of the street, into the catch water, like it was garbage. Then he screamed at her in a murderous rage and threw something at her before he left. It was a chunk of the other girls hair, with flesh and bone.

Yes! There are scumbags in this world like that.

"I don't know why she does. I figure if she wants to tell me she will."

"I noticed she doesn't stutter when she talks to you though."

"I kind of miss it."

He quirked a look.

"I found it cute, refreshing, oddly calming. Sue me. Give her a bit more time. I think she's warming up to you guys. It's faded already if you hadn't noticed. I think most of it now, is not having practice anyway."

He nodded, "I get that."

Meanwhile, back at the fire.

"Thursday?" Sam asked in typical Sam tone. Booming. Not so much in volume, as in presence

"Mmmhmm."

"Damn. Really?"

My black haired companion then told them, pretty much, everything that lead up to this exact moment. In a condensed version. Keeping her sentences short. Not to be cold or aloof. That's the impression some get of her, that she's cold and aloof. But it's more, to suffer you less at the stagger in her speech. She doesn't like causing people discomfort. So she tries to minimize their aversion to her speech. And everybody here, in this field, understood that. And they loved her for it.

Even though, what she was protecting them from, didn't bother them one fucking bit.

"Mmmhmm. How ddid you mmMeet him?"

"Funny story that..." Big Frank piped in.

You know what? I didn't make introductions. Not really. Sorry about that. I'm not inhospitable, just slow to the calling sometimes. And this is the perfect time for it anyways. Let's say I got a nudge.

So here goes.

Big Frank, was in his eighties, he was a barrel of a man who looked no older than fifty and acted no older than twenty-five. He was about five foot four, five five. Gruff and stumpy. And he loved to listen to himself talk. But only if it was in his experience. Unless, no one was there to give a firsthand. And then, only if he knew the truth of it.

Tank, his son, in contrast, was a fucking behemoth. He stood at six foot eleven and weighed in about three twenty. He wasn't muscular. But the boy could carry an engine block across a four car garage, like you were taking a grocery bag to your house. I know, I watched him do it. He was in his early fifties. A quiet giant, that was as smart as Tesla and as strong as Bunyan. He acted like he was three hundred years old, and fifteen, at the very same time.

Meat, was just Meat. His given name was Travis. He worked as a barbarian or a knight, depending on the script, in one of those medieval tourist traps, and he and Lane did ren-faires, whenever they came around. He was good with his hands mechanically, as is almost anybody that rides as a major part of their life, and he was pretty crafty. Artisanal when it came to leather. He was also one of the few people I played D&D with. His crew always allowed me to jump in a game, whenever I came up to visit. He was slow to temper, but fucking explosive if you set him off. He was six foot even, around one eighty and built like a brick fucking wall.

Lani or Wifey as we all called her, was Meat's wife. In the eyes of the law and G&G. But she nagged us all like only a wife can. She was also Meat's pseudo-step sister. I'll let you ponder that for a sec.

Or Two.

It's not as salacious as it seems. It's rather pretty amusing. His mother and her father met at their wedding, and they married eight months later.

Anyway, Lanie, Wifey, born Lanora, was a petite little waif, with a fire. Her hair was light brown, shaved off the sides and braided from her forehead to well below her ass. She had done some porn in her younger days. But decided to go into advertising and marketing, instead of getting her tits done. She was sharp as a tack, cunning as a fox and, when she put her mind to it, she could charm a leopard out of his, or her, spots. And she was really fucking good with a cross bow. Both, in-game and out. She was part of the D&D crew too.

Those two were the youngest of the old bunch. Maxing out around thirty five.

Beccah. Whom I'd just met. Seemed to be early thirties, late twenties. She was quiet, and cute. A little goth, a little punk. She was tall and slender with an innocent air. But there was something, in her ice green eyes, that let you know her life before, was Not, all glamour and glory.

Then there was Sam, the thunder goddess. She had a confidence and a truth to her. She took no shit from anyone. She wasn't a bitch, in the nasty form of that term, but she was in the protective term. And if you drew her ire you'd wake up in a world of hurt. She had legs for miles, a tight ripped stomach and c-cup breasts, that sat proud on her chest. Even at forty-five plus years of age. Her hair was long and a rich, deep red, strawberry blonde, that framed bright grey eyes. Eyes that like Beccah's, had a look of 'survived it' but unlike Beccah's, had a look of 'I survived it'.

Now back to Frank. He's still talking. I'll skip ahead to the part where I arrive in this diatribe. That's about two days, four meals, one police stop, and four hundred fifty miles after this story started. If you ever met the man you'd be thanking me, profusely. You might even name your first born after me.

"...I was about twenty, thirty miles from North Carolina. Just about to that South of the Border place. And I hear this rumbling, pulling up next to me. I look to my right and see This, skinny, long haired, little shit, with no helmet, on a gloss black sporty. It's got dark metallic gray to silver-tip flames on a peanut tank. It's a two gallon tank, and he's loaded for bear. There's saddle bags, tool pouch, a tent, a sleeping roll, an old army duffle, and I'm pretty sure the kitchen sink was strapped to that bitch bar too. He just nods and stays right beside me. A few miles up, I wave, tap my tank and point at the exit sign, to tell him I'm pulling off. Adios. He follows me up to the rest stop, gets some gas and asks if I'm hungry. I said, yeah what the hell. Well, we get to talking and he says he's heading back to NY, helped a friend out in N'arlens, did the panhandle run to hit bike week. Now it's time to get back to the grind. He saw my plates and figured, why don't we ride up together. Turns out we both pretty much ride long trips solo, just because no one else can make the time. But neither of us has an aversion to riding with others. So we headed back north. A few stops and a sleep later we get to Maryland and he says he needs to stop in, to see a few people that helped him when he wrecked a couple years back. We end up getting invited to this, back woods, mud puddle, cluster fuck of a drag race. And we have ourselves a time. I had more fun at that little shin dig, than the big boys' in Daytona.

Anywho, we cross the NY border two days later and I ask him if he feels like riding some more. He just says, what the hell, more wind, more miles. By the way, how many miles did you end up with on that sporty?"

"A hundred and fifty thousand before I did the top end rebuild. That was fun. Then we got about one seventy five before the bottom end got sloppy and I had to tear her down. Before I committed suicide by stupidity."

"Damn. She served you well."

"Oh she ain't done. She's in a few pieces in the basement. I had the crankshaft done, a couple years ago. Would have loved to do that myself too, but nobody wanted to let me use their toys. Then life kicked in, and the cycle of windmills took over."

"The cycle of windmills?" Em asked.

I didn't need to answer. She was met with a chorus. "When you got the time, you ain't got the money. When you got the money, you ain't got the time!"

"Oh," she smiled, "Okay, bbut why windmills?"

"The propeller spins but that ship goes nowhere." I offered.

She just chuckled.

And! Back to Frank…

"So. We pull into town, a little before midnight. I know my son is out doin his thing, so we head over to his favorite watering hole. We shoot some pool and drink some beer. I pull out around one, to dig out a cot, so Fuzznuts can crash at my place."

"That cot? Seriously? You had to include the cot?"

"What was wrong with the cot?"

"What wasn't wrong? With any of em!"

"Kept ya off the floor didn't it? "

"NO! It didn't."

He chuckled, right into, "I'm not three streets away when the cops go whipping by me, in the other direction. Did you ever just get one of those feelings?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Well I followed it that night and headed back. It seems my son's new girlfriend, had an ex. An ex that thought of her as property… You know what, Meat was there, let him go from here. Meat."

"You know the story ole man just tell it."

"Nah. You know I don't like hearsay."

"No, but you do love to hear yourself orate."

"Just tell the story, Meatball."

"Yeah yeah. Grumpy old gnome… Okay, So, me and Trevor, that's my brother, Trevor..."

(Insight Check: You rolled a fifteen, good enough no modifier needed, here's what you get: Meat aka Travis… Yes, he rides a Harley. Yes, he's a barbarian/knight. Yes, he does Ren-faires. Yes, he plays D&D and LARPs. And yes, the huzzahs and miladys often break into his regular day to day jargon. But for some reason, when he has to tell a story, something takes a strange turn and he gets all, Western Sidekick Travis, as soon as he starts recounting.)

"...are in the back of the saloon, shooting darts. When we hear this ruckus. We missed the start up and we have no idea what's been brewing. So we get a little closer. All of a sudden we see, this body, flying in the air from the bar. And it slams into the biggest one of the bunch,"

"Mmmmphf."

"That wasn't Tank sized. And yanks him. Right off Tank's back. Two seconds later we see that same body getting lifted off the ground in a choke hold. And then we see legs, up in the air, and then they disappear. And something goes crack. There was a scream. A loud terrified scream. You would have thought, whoever was screaming, got a rough cut two by four shoved up his ass, the way he..."

"He'd know what that sounded like." Tank put out there.

It took a silent step. Maybe two.

Then,

"Touche motherfucker."

Then a little more laughter and a few steps of the second hand more.

Almost.

Wait for it,

"Assholes."

There it is.

He turned his attention back to Em.

"Anyway, the little dude's now standing up, and out of the choke hold, and he turns. Now we can see who it is. It's the guy Big Frank rode in with. He squares up and punches… What the hell was his name again?"

"Jester." Sam spits out.

"Jester. That's right. The Fool. Fitting. I never realized how fitting til now. Anyway he punches this fool right in the throat, Hard. Then, he gets hit with a bar stool. Splinters of wood go flying everywhere. And the little fucker don't flinch. He howls."

"Lucky for me those seats had Tank ass on em for years, so they weren't in great shape. And we're talking years. He's old," I interrupted, giving Em a grin.

Tank looked up and pondered my words. Then he pursed his mouth, scrunched his brow, looked into space and nodded. Like, that was a reasonable explanation as to how I survived. And then...

"Asshole."

"Maybe. And yes he is. Still, like I said he don't flinch. Now, we were in it. The bartender was in it, the kitchen staff was in it, our bar mates were in it. Hell, I think even the Easter bunny was in it. The bar staff was tossing people and this little fuck right here, is going for the new guy. And now me and Trevor are hysterical, because Tanks got him by the collar and the belt, and THAT little fucker is dragging THAT mountainous monstrosity, while he's heading toward his prey. I wish I had a camcorder that night just for that."

I looked at Emily, "The human body produces roughly the same amount of adrenaline no matter your size, imagine all that juice, in this frame."

"Is that a fact? I don't think that's a fact." Meat states.

"So you guys, won?"

"Oh hell no," both me and Tank blurt out, "we got our asses kicked."

We just look at each other and laughed.

Then Tank looks Emily right in the face, "The only way you win is to not let it start. But if it starts, you best be ready to do what you gotta do, or die. Surviving it, is the only righteous out come. Averting it, is always the preference, the win."

"Damn Tank, you get a job at Hallmark's Art of War division?"

"Do they have that?"

And Meat points to me, "His left eye was a grapefruit, his right hand looked like Popeye's and he had a black and green welt across both shoulder blades."

"Oddly enough my neck felt better. Has ever since. I did have to sleep on my stomach with my head cocked. For over a week. The ride home the next day was absolute hell. But it was nothing, compared to that, fucking cot."

"Builds character." Frank chuckled.

"Asshole." I replied.

Travis points to the Grizzly Adams looking mother fucker, "Tank had two broken ribs and a hairline fracture to the jaw. The cops showed up, the meat wagon showed up, there were pretty lights and stretchers and all types of fun stuff. They arrested all of them cum buckets for parole violations. Good times."

"That wasn't good times Travis." Tank interrupted, "If you all didn't step in we'd have been in the shit."

"I'll tell you what was good times," Sam chimed, bumping Em with her shoulder, "Wolfie here, comes up for Big franks birthday. He comes with, to help me pick up the food that we catered. And who do you think is sitting at the bar?"

Everyone is smiling, except Emily and Beccah.

And me.

I'm clueless.

You see, I remember this about that part of the trip. I had just enjoyed a very nice ride. Light traffic, warm breeze, no cops. Just a nice easy ride. I was mellow, very mellow. Even before I had a hit of weed and a couple of beers, since I was crashing there. I remember Tank, drunkenly, telling me about, how much he loves Hula-girl jeans. I remember, a little while later, going up steps, to a bar, to get the food. And I see, white threads fading off denim. Two strips a little longer than the rest. A shape of white vertical stripes, filled in by blue, light-blue and white, crisscrossing diagonal lines, against a cafe latte tinted background. It had a symmetry. A form. It was eerily similar to one of those hula girl bobbleheads that people used to put on their dashboards. The strings were wiggling, just this certain way. It looked like a dance. It was mesmerizing… Then I remember getting the food and leaving. I have no clue of any drama, in my brain. It's nothing but happy times in there.

"Jester," she continues.

Still, notafuckin-clue.

"He sees me, gets all big and tough, and it looked like he was gonna limp on over and try and... I don't know what that asshole was thinking of doing… As I'm reaching for a mug to smash him with, he sees that one behind me, and his face goes white, and his crotch gets all dark."

"He pissed himself?" Beccah asks.

"Pissed himself and took off like he saw the incarnation of the Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. Hobble, hobble, stumble, bang, right out the back exit. Like the piece of shit he was."

"How come you never told me that." I asked.

"You didn't know? You were there."

"Nope. But then again, I might have been too busy checking out your ass. Those Daisy Dukes are still etched in my brain. The way that Hula girl just shook that skirt."

Sam turned red, Tank burst out laughing and everyone else ensued.

Except Beccah, she looked shocked. Stunned actually. Her mouth pursed a couple of times before the words formed.

"I've never seen you turn that color before."

And the laughter got louder.

"Assholes."

The banter continued and Emily's stutter drifted away. Meat gave me a look when he realized it. It was like he had passed some test. He was proud. Fuck, we all were. I felt lucky. Just to have witnessed this. And wistfully thankful that I was her first. Her first person to speak 'normal' to. Yeah, okay, that first too. Definitely that first. I still missed it though. It was like listening to some Celestial language. One I had no need to decode. It sunk it's roots in me.

The conversation faded as the time passed. The friendly conversations turned to more intimate times. Me and Em went to the pond, only thigh deep, and we slow danced in the water, tongue to tongue.

We wrapped up for the night. Said our, 'til nexts' and 'good sees'. Tank asked me about something, something during the week. And we all tried to shore up plans for the last day. The day, I had to fulfill the third, and final parameter of my quest. And hand off Taz's ride.

Em and I arrived back at the lodge, somewhere after eleven, so I shut the bike off at the entrance and wheeled it up the drive, to the door beside our room. I took the saddle-bags off and put them on my shoulder.

We were walking around to the front doors.

"You have fun?"

"Yes. They're very nice."

"Don't let that get around. People will think you're weird."

"People already think I'm weird."

"You are weird. That's why those crazy bastards love you."

"So what does that say about you?"

"Around you and them, It says 'I'm home'. So what would you like to do? Been a while since I heard the wind like that. I'm kinda pumped from that ride."

"Me too. Hmm… I would like to take a walk down that trail we saw yesterday, but I'm kind of cold."

"Sorry about that. If I had known it was going to be this late, I'd have bought a jacket for ya."

"You're not cold?"

"Nah. My bike was all I had for five years. In New York. I could ride in the winter with just a flannel shirt and be comfortable. Most of the time. Let's go. I need to stop by the front desk first. Do you have a sweater?"

"No. I packed like an idiot. I thought business - casual."

"Well, I packed some flannel shirts in the duffle somewhere."

"Thanks."

"No worries."

"Joe?"

"Em."

"Was, there anything, you, wanted to do?"

"I'm tactical, A walk sounds nice. But… maybe, when we get back, how would you feel about... letting me eat your pussy, until you pull my fucking ears off."

The woman at the front counter lifted her head up at that last comment. She was the same one who brought us our dinner the night before. I felt kind of bad and then I saw her twinkle.

"Oh sorry, I didn't hear you guys come in."

"Yeah. Sorry if we broke the peace this afternoon, or if that, was a little offensive."

"Oh no need, I'm used to it. On both fronts. There's a couple races and conventions up the road every spring and fall. We don't mind the rumble. Besides we still have our old Vincent. We heard em coming in, so we were ready for the leavin."

"Ya know, I once had the pleasure of pushing a 1950 Black Shadow up a street one day. And the terrifying pleasure of tearing off down that same street, a few hours later. This world's, a completely different place over one forty five. That is a scary, scary, scary piece of machinery."

"She still purrs like a jaguar. What can I do you for?"

"I have a bit of a dilemma."

"Go on."

"I need a safe spot to store my buddy's ride. Somewhere away from prying eyes and thoughtless backsides. Mostly the backsides. Can I maybe store it in the equipment barn? I'd be happy to pay rent for her."

"Yeah, people don't know their butts from a toadstool sometimes. Do they?" She turned around and disappeared into the office, sporting a self amused, shake of the head. A couple seconds later she returned and handed me a key, with a giggle, "It took til I was eighty three, but I finally heard a bit of my mother, come out. You're at the end of the hall, right?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"This, opens the side door from the outside, it locks automatically when you close it. Just wheel it in your room, I'll get you a tarp, to park it on."

I smiled, "Between this kind of hospitality and your cooking, I can see why they'd come back here. Thank you."

"Thank you and your welcome. Some of em are like family. And if a local lent you one of ours… Did you walk 'er in?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to disturb the guests."

"Thank you, for that considerate gesture. But between you and me, most of these kids are nothing but snot nosed brats. And if they don't like my house rules, fuck em. Great, now I have to put a quarter in the jar."

Emily chuckled. The old lady just winked.

She brought the tarp to our room and, after looking at the unused single and the more than disheveled double, the panties under a black faded tee and the swim top laying next to a pair of swim shorts, she put her detective skills to work and had the night guy come and take the single away.

Turns out she owned the place, with her husband. They've had it since they first married. At first business was good all year round, then the times changed, people changed, highways changed and things started to slow. Her husband decided to open to a market that was not wanted by most. Since he rode, he knew what events were coming within riding distance, and advertised in biker rags accordingly.

Then the summer business, as a vacation spot, was fading. Everyone wanted the beach and the tropics and the theme parks. The 'family in nature' thing was not 'cool' anymore. It was her grandson that gave them the idea to get into the convention/corporate market. Between those two divergent groups alone they could keep their staff full all year long.

Winter ski season, was all a big bonus.

After Granny Hicks left, I grabbed Em a flannel from my travel bag. It fit her snug. It looked, alluring. There's just something about a girl in your shirt that radiates a familiar fondness. That and your shorts, or your jeans, or your tank tops. Especially the tank tops. Even if they don't fit you quite right anymore, it brings back some memorable imagery. Like that soft arcing shadow that starts somewhere near her armpit and slopes it's way under the hem. Forming the fabric to its curve and it's breadth.

Sorry. My brains like a leaky bucket sometimes.

Where were we? Oh. Right…

We walked down the trail under a brilliant night sky. It was crystal clear. So clean it had a bite. The moon was rising, almost full. It glistened upon the water, bathing us in strobes of rippling light.

We came to a clearing, a stone outcropping of sorts, that overlooked the water and was covered in moss. Nice thick, spongey moss. It was the one thing I always searched for when setting up camp. A natural bed, to rest my soul. I laid down, with a shirt for a pillow, she laid down beside me nuzzling her head on my stomach.

The heavens?

They were putting on a festival.

"I've never seen this many stars. It's almost dizzying."

"Now you know why I didn't mind taking this trip."

"Mhmmm."

I teased my right hand down her belly and sneaked it in between her jeans and her skin.

"Lyrids?"

"The light show?'

"Mmmhmm."

"The Perseids I know, but they're in August, the other names, I do not. But it could be."

My fingers stalked through her bush, hunting for her clit. It was already pushing back her hood when they found it. She ground herself up and into the pressure.

"Mmmm. We really don't see anything in the cities do we?"

"Too bright, too domed in haze. It makes it hard to see what's beyond itself."

I played there for a while. Eliciting sounds and movements of a certain, pleasurable, connection. She took my left hand, pulled it to her chest, and held it there. Her hand on top. Her fingers locked with mine and intertwined.

Her head pushed back into my chest and she rolled like she was waking up. I heard her hum an enchantment. She guided my hand out, brought it up to her mouth, and kissed the back, then the palm.

She stood up, undid the snaps and teased herself out of her jeans. Simple, white panties faded away behind the tartan. A triangle of white, stood calling, under interwoven rectangles of blue and black stripes.

She started unbuttoning her shirt. Watching me, watch her.

I rose up to my knees and kissed her, just above the waistband. I put my nose to the cotton fiber.

She breathed in deep and hushed out the air, "Everything here, smells so… Shiny."

Tingles riled up my neck, "Yeah it does."

I slowly slid my thumbs into the waistband of her panties. My fingers gently teased and tickled her cheeks, as I slipped the cloth over the curve of her ass with a feathery touch. Down the back of her legs. Passed her thighs to her knees. Taking my time.

The white cotton slipped itself over her calves to the moss. She raised a foot and stepped out of them. Parting her legs, offering herself up to me. I rubbed my mouth into her luxurious bush and took her scent in deeper. It made me hungry. It steeled my spine.

My right hand found the slope of her back and held her firmly. My left, felt it's way skyward, starting behind her knee, then up, over and across her thigh, until it finally found that soft warm flesh and palmed her heat. I kissed her clit and sucked it gently, flitting my tongue side to side across its sensitive flesh.

Her hands gripped my hair and tempted me closer.

Prodding fingers played in the folds of her sex, gathering her wetness on their tips. I licked her hood and nibbled on the straining nub underneath. She groaned, through hurried breath. I slid a finger inside her and reveled in her response. My tongue slipped between her lips and up, inspired by her taste for more.

She opened her legs inviting me deeper.

I cupped her ass and gave a good squeeze. My thumb rubbed inside the gap, found her tighter opening and tested. She jerked at the intrusion but offered me no sign to stop. Her breath became strained and staggered and vibrato. With a firm but gentle push, my thumb probed into the tight, little bud between her plump round cheeks. She gasped and pushed forwards, sliding her pussy deeper around my fingers. I slid them in a little more.

I felt her stiffen, grimace and sneer. She sucked the air in deep, through clenched teeth.

'No warm fuzzy place for you tonight,' I silently informed, my restlessly stiff friend.

*Kinda figured that. I mean she tore herself the fuck up on me.*

'I know. I was there.'

*All I'm sayin is she's got to be hurtin.*

'So you get it?'

*Yeah, I get it, I mean I wouldn't want you bangin me around if I was hurting like that.*

'So your cool with this?'

*Yeah. I liked being inside her. She's totally worth the wait.*

'Yeah she is. So? A unanimous decision?'

*The ayes have it.*

'We should run for congress.'

*FUCK THAT!*

My thumb, followed her cues and soon found this… fluid motion. A slow and methodical in and out. Feeding on her reactions and going with her persuasions. I tasted between her folds and a long slow pleasurable thrumming emanated from her diaphragm and bekoned from her throat.

My spine turned voracious, snaking and flexing, it made me wanna bay. Her honey, melted on my tongue.

When I touched across her sensitive pearl again, it was taut and smooth and stone. A passionate suck, a gentle nibble and a flick. Her knees started shaking, her body began to sway. When I palmed her sex, spreading her lips, and sucked at the hardness under her hood, she ground into me and moaned a long, drawn out, desire.

I felt that same calling from miles inside me. The first minute I walked into this place. I put it out into the world, silently, with eyes closed. And here she was, answering that call. With the same primal hunger. Now, I had to answer for it.

And I, was quite okay with that.

She encouraged herself into my mouth, kissing me back with her musky lips, and trembled. Her manna flowed down my chin. There was a sudden intake of air, then silence. Her hands grasped at my hair. Then the flood gates opened,

"Joe." Was all I heard before she tensed, shook, and slowly, tumultuously collapsed to her knees before me. I held her fondly, softening her way down.

We were brow to brow. Nose tip to nose tip, our lips just barely touching.

I twitched my thumb and her eyes went wide. She kissed me tasting herself on my face. Slowly and carefully I removed my intruding digit from inside her. It was released with a gasp and a sigh and a ripple. Her body trembled with waves that taxed the last of her strength. She settled into me, resting her head on my shoulder.

I laid her down, tenderly, on the moss.

She pulled me down with her and hugged me tight.

Her body relaxed, the afterglow faded, and she started to shiver. I put her panties back on, gathered our belongings, then picked her up and carried her back to our room and placed her delicately back onto our bed.

She was half sitting up, unbuttoning the rest of her shirt, "Joe?"

"Yes Em."

"Where are my pants and shoes?"

"They're over by your suitcase."

"Oh."

"You just noticed now?"

"I've been…"

"Wobbly?"

"Mmmhmm."

I helped her undress and laid down beside her, pulling the covers up and over us both. She reached for me under the sheets and stroked me.

I felt her lips, plant little kisses on my neck, as she purposefully worked her way down my throat. Kissing my collarbone and nibbling the flesh below it. She sucked a nipple and sent shivers up my shaft. My stomach tightened from her breath.

A sudden temperate change, a gentle tug. Warm, slender fingers, worked their way up and down me. For me and for herself.

And I, was definitely, quite alright with that.

Patiently, she tasted at my flesh, her strokes were getting me closer and she knew it.

I felt that energy building, deep inside as her mouth slowly surrounded my head. A warm wet touch lapped at the dew that presented itself, causing my body to present her with more. She ground her sex on my knee as she sucked and raged me on.

I felt her moan. A tremble from her throat that undulated around my shaft.

I tensed her hair in my fingers and smoothed into her face. Slowly. Painstakingly, slowly. The motions and pressure on my leg and my cock increased.

She groaned, tightened and pulled her lips from around me. Never breaking the gaze. Never losing that smile in her eyes.

"Are you?"

"Close?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Oh yeah."

"Me too."

"Together?"

"Yes."

Then a tempo took over her. A desperate hurried tempo.

Her hand and mouth followed the same allegro measure that her hips conducted against my leg. I felt her release on my thigh, I jerked up and froze. Then I flooded her mouth with my own. She drank and swallowed and drank some more.

I let her go until it was just too much.

I pulled her off and up. She sensed my intention.

She slid her arms under my shoulders, brought her face up to meet mine and, lovingly, kissed the air back into me.

She let out one long breath on my ear. "I love this, Joe."

"Me too, Em. Me too."

A calmness and a quiet filled the room and surrounded us. For quite a few minutes all one could hear was the breathing.

Then a hint of anxious energy brought the silence to bear.

She shifted a little, rubbing her head against my chest, as if the sound of her hair, rustling between her face and my skin, would somehow yield an answer to a question she hadn't, as of yet, fully formed. The silence that followed, sounded like thought. Deep, personal, conflicted thought.

Her hand traced circles on my chest.

I brushed the hair back and away from her eyes.

"What's buzzing in your brain?"

"They offered me a job."

"Isn't that why we're here?"

"Not these guys… Lani and Sam."

"That's a good thing. Why do you sound sad?"

"You're not mad?"

"Why would I be?"

"Because they asked… me?"

"Oh, My sweet, beautiful, wonderful Em. You're too cute. No! I'm not mad… Some friendships, shouldn't become work relationships. I will quit a job to help them through a rough patch. Again. If they needed it. But they know, I'm too… flighty. I'm a night creature. Hell, the only reason I'm half awake during this shit show is you."

"Me? Why? How?"

"Yes, you. You give me a reason to, want to. You occupy my brain, you invoke a better part of me and you settle me in with your warmth and your charm. Besides a week or twenty, of this, I could handle. But I also know, from experience, my body would retaliate in six, or seven months."

"Really? I find, I can handle different shifts... But I haven't done midnight. Maybe that's my bane. Nine to five really gets to you?"

"Oh Yeah. All the day jobs I ever had, even the ones I really enjoyed doing, never broke a year, not even close. But any noon to eight or four to twelve, or midnight, even the boring, grinding, dragging ones, they all went well passed. Hell I even went two years doing twelve to sixteen hour days, six or seven days a week. And the only reason I left any of them was because I found a better one. Not because, I could barely get out of bed for a week or two and lost them. Oddly enough though, take me camping and I'm up with the sun, gone with the wind. What do they want to do?"

"They want to start an internet service. A database kind of thing for parts suppliers and mechanics to swap, barter and buy."

"Well, they do that now, locally… Expand on it, get a broader spectrum of customers and suppliers. At the very least they'd have easier access to their data and inventory."

"That's pretty much how they explained it to me. Is there good money in it though? Enough to get a small house, up here, maybe?"

"First off you, could buy a nice, quaint little house up here for the cost of a new car in some places. And have a very decent sized yard. And don't let that chaser van fool ya. Mechanically, Iris is a beast. You'll get an idea how good they do when you see Sam and Tank's house, and Lani and Meat's place."

"You mean if?"

"No, I mean when. We're stopping by Tank's somewhere along the line. Maybe when we visit the falls. He asked me to stop by for something. That's if you still want to go, that is."

"MMHMM. Welding."

"Welding? Hmm. Thanks. And that's good. Because, I don't wanna be the only one leafless on the rocks."

"How did she get that scar on her back?"

"Sam?"

"Mmmhmm."

"She didn't tell you? She's not shy about it."

"I didn't ask. But she did say, if there was anything I wanted to know, to ask you. I think she caught me gawking."

"Even her silence is loud... Well it's not a secret. And if I don't tell you Big Frank will. So, I'll spare you that. You remember the bar fight story?"

"MMhm."

"That fiasco, started a few months before. This was before I met them, by the way, so I'm going to be piecemealing. But like I was saying, a few months before that brawl, Sam met this guy, Jester, and they started seeing each other. That shit stain, ran with a bunch of complete dicks. He was a possessive, obsessive, arrogant douche bag. She didn't see it, until it was too late to keep herself from getting, deep enough to be in the shit. And then she found herself, almost too far in it, to break away clean, without it becoming... uncivilized. One night he took her for a ride, and they ended up at a skank bar, two towns north from here. After a while she wanted to leave, he didn't. He got abusive, hauled off and cheap shot her. Full fisted right to the jaw. Then he told her, she was going to fuck his buddy, in the back room, to pay off a bet that HE lost. They struggled, he hit her again. She was dragged into the back room and said 'buddy' started to rip her clothes off."

"I don't think if I wanna hear anymore."

"That's the worst of it. Except for the scar. Promise."

"Okay."

"He tore her shirt to shreds, had her arms tangled up in her bra and was fighting with her jeans. She saw an opening and bit the guys head and ripped. Scalped the fucker with her teeth. Then she stabbed him in the neck with a pencil. Broke his nose with a piston he used for a paper weight and jumped out the back room window. She got carved up by the glass on her way out."

"That's… frack."

"Yeah it is. Anyway, She made her way down the hill through the woods to another bar. One she barely ever went to. She was pretty fucked up by then. She got to the parking lot, half naked. Her pants were ripped, her bra gone, she was stumbling, dizzy and covered in blood. The next thing she knew there was a body in front of her, she pushed him away, went gray, and when she regained her focus, he had her in his arms like a baby. He'd torn his tee shirt into strips, and wrapped them around her like a bandage, and she was wearing a leather vest. He had carried her to his truck and was sliding her into the passenger seat. She had lost a lot of blood and had no fight left. So she just gave in to the inevitable. She talked him into taking her to her house,"

"Her own house? Why?"

"That's what I asked her. She said she was fucked, and she figured, if he was gonna rape her and dump her dead body somewhere he'd do it. No stopping it. But on the chance that he actually meant to help her, home was quicker. Her house guest was a childhood friend. A field medic, home on leave from one war torn shit hole, getting ready to head out for another. And it was a lot closer than the nearest emergency room. She figured, shit hits the fan, home turf advantage, they had weapons and they both knew how to use em. And if it was instead, an act of kindness, she could patch her up quicker, while they waited for the ambulance. The trip there was worth it in her mind. He ended up being the chivalrous type. He got her home, carried her up the stairs, kicked at the door and helped Jolie sew her up."

"She's lucky."

"Yeah she was. You remember what she said about stray dogs?"

"A bit."

"They follow you home, you clean em, you feed em, and the next thing you know…"

"They're sleeping on your bed."

"Exactly. Well technically, it was Jolie who cleaned him up and fed him that night, but that guy was already a goner for Sam."

"Tank?"

"Who else do you think could carry that Amazonian across a parking lot, never mind, two stories up a set of stairs?"

"She's not that big."

"Never said she was. But she is made of something, really fucking dense. After that, Tank hung around and helped take care of her. Jolie was called back. So that oversized lap bear stuck around. He went shopping for her, cooked, changed her bandages, helped her wash. Lost a good job because of it. But, he found a love. Born of blood and kindness… Or he found a chick stumbling through a parking lot and hooked up. Take your pick. I prefer the former."

"Me too," she smiled. "So, that bar fight story was true?"

"For the most part. I honestly don't remember dragging Tank across the floor. Or howling. It was probably a bray of pain if anything, My shoulders were destroyed and I really fucked my hand up in that disaster. Luckily it was my brake hand and not my clutch or I wouldn't have made it home in time to go back to work. I don't really recall anything, after getting my air back and punching that... dick. But Sam was there and she gave me my nickname that night."

"Wolf?"

"Fuzznuts."

She laughed, "Fuzznuts?"

"I'm fuzzy and I'm nuts… I do remember being two feet off the ground though. Staring at Tank's gruesome mug, and hearing something that I swore was in Primordial, somehow translating into, 'Calm dude. It's finished'… With blood, pouring down his face. That face. I had nightmares for three days."

"Hah, hmmh, that's mean."

"He loves it. Makes him feel like Chewy."

"So you don't remember the second guy."

"Nope, I kind of blanked between the bar stool and the beer breath. And before I forget. Don't let his humility fool ya. I've seen that over stuffed teddy bear in action. He'd have been good, even if nobody jumped in. I, on the other hand, got my ass kicked and I thank G&G that those other fuckers stepped in when they did, or I might not be telling you this story right now. That being said. Was it worth the damage I did and the damage I got? In this case... Fuck yeah. And I survived it, which is a plus in my book. It may not be a win, but at least it wasn't a total loss."

She sat quiet for a minute.

She kissed my shoulder.

"So you think I should consider it?"

"You could do a lot worse than get in with them. There's very few things I would die to protect. What they all have together, how they are with those they love, their strength. Their warmth. Their acceptance. It's a precious rarity."

"You're talking me into it, you know."

"Good. Good people should be with good people. And rarities should find a safe and warm and loving home."

She cuddled up blanketing me with half her body. Her fingers went back to tracing patterns on my chest.

"Joe?"

"Em."

"Would you make love to me?"

"I haven't stopped since our eyes met in the lobby on Thursday. But I had a long talk with my dick."

"Input, definitely, required." She smiled.

"Okay, this is what we came up with. We take it slow. We touch and tease when we can during the day. Then we nibble and taste and please any chance we get. Until you heal up a bit. Then when you're not sore anymore and can enjoy it, with out any discomfort, then, we'll make love that way, together, again. He feels bad you tore yourself up on him and he wouldn't want to be manhandled if he was hurt. I mean just my finger going too deep hurt you before and I don't want that. Neither does he. Besides I have no problem with this kind of intimacy. Sometimes, it's more true than the sex could ever be. And, I like it. I Pity the man that doesn't like to cuddle."

She propped herself up and studied me. Then she just smiled and put her head back on my chest, "Mmmmm."

"Oh! I meant to tell you sorry for the butt thing earlier. I should have asked."

"No. It's okay, We did kind of agree to not ask, just do."

"Yeah, but that's a spot some people get cringey over. I should have at least hinted at it, before diving right in."

"It's okay, just do. I kind of enjoyed it. I don't know if I'd want anything… bigger… down there, but that was, oddly, kind of nice. And I know you would have stopped, if I asked you tooooo-ammmm."

"Good."