"The Bikers' Play Thing"

[tonyroleplays]

"The Bikers' Play Thing"

(closed)

The raw sound of rumbling power announced the Motorcycle Club's imminent arrival long before any of Greenburg's residents caught sight of the gleaming chrome pipes or forks, intricately painted gas tanks and fenders, or ominously dressed bikers in leather or ripped denim. By the time the lead bike turned from Front Street onto Broadway, leading the pack toward the town square, three dozen of the small town's citizens were out on the side walks, waiting.

Some of the townsfolk wore expressions of curiosity or joyous interest. William Black didn't. His expression was very much like the one you might see on a citizen in a war torn region -- Syria, The Ukraine, Iraq -- in which invading forces were now rolling down the street. He'd had a bad experience with bikers once as a college student, and seeing them roll into his town a decade later only brought up gut-retching memories.

"What's that?"

Billy, as his wife had called him during the full extent of their five years together, prior to and following taking their vows, turned to look over his shoulder. "It's nothing, honey. You don't need to--"

He stopped when he realized that she wasn't going to stop moving forward through the shop they'd opened almost two years ago. They'd closed early on this early June Friday and had been decorating the shop for their Grand Reopening on Monday. As she joined him, Billy put his arm around her waist, partially as a sign of intimacy but more in fear that something might happen and he needed to have hold of her, both literally and figuratively.

"They're just passing through, honey," he said, not knowing any such thing, of course. "They'll have a few drinks and head off." He turned back toward the store, urging her to go with him. "Let's finish decorating just the windows, ... save the rest for tomorrow morning. We can go down to the river for a picnic ... watch the sun go down, okay?"

But Billy could see that his wife wasn't yet through looking over the gang. He didn't blame her, of course. He turned and looked at the bikers again. They were, to use a very inadequate term, interesting. Almost with Drill Team precision, the procession slowed to a stop before the town's only bar, Gilley's, and the biker's guided their rides back to the curb. One by one the powerful Harley Davidson engines went quiet, and the riders dismounted, beginning to shed helmets, chaps, leather jackets and gloves, worn and torn denim, and more.

There were 10 male bikers, and four of them had women riding behind them as well. Biker Mama's...? Billy thought. Is that what they're called? As he studied the club's members, Billy realized that about the only thing the individual club members had in common was that they were bikers. They were tall and short, thin and fat, with hair and skin of all colors. Billy found that last observation curious: he'd always thought that outlaw bikers only ran with their own race, and yet the men milling about the sidewalk included Whites, Blacks, Hispanics, and even Asians, though Billy wasn't worldly enough to know which Asian or Asian race they were.

And the women! Jesus Christ! While some of the men could easily have been described as homely, if not downright ugly, all of the women were shapely and -- at the least -- above average in beauty. For some reason, Billy had always thought biker mamas were anything but the biker babes featured on the calendars that hung over the desk and in the men's room of Cliff's Gas and Garage. Just as the men differed in physical appearance and clothing, so did the women, with different hair and skin colors and individualized but sexy clothing, including a great deal of tight fitting leather and skin revealing skirts and blouses.

After a moment, Billy realized that he'd been staring at the four beauties a bit longer than he should have been, what with his wife standing so near. He turned toward the interior of their shop again and said, "I'm going to finish this up."

He walked away, leaving her watching the activity as the bikers began making their way inside Gilley's for the begin of their evening reverie.

 

[Black_and_White_Writer]

Kelly watched her husband walk off. She stood watching the bikers for a few moments before shouting her husbands name and tottering off after him in her golden yellow sandals. Her long red hair flowing begin her as she set off.

Behind her in the quaint diner she failed to note nearly everyone look at this beautiful young lady totter off after her partner.

"Man those are some great legs." Chortled a short Hispanic man, nicknamed the 'goat' as he was always kicking his very old ride and he was always stands old bastard his wife said. His wife turned round to watch the redhead.

"The rest of her's pretty ok to me." She remarked. Although happily married and with children she wasn't averse to sex with other women and had done so with many of the girls in the diner.

Kelly caught up with her husband pulling her hair out of her face. She stood for a moment smoothing down her long pastel jacket and putting her purse back into her shoulder as she checked the straps.

"What's the matter?" She asked. "Why did you just go off like that?" She added, her breath turning to normal after chasing after him. She breathed deeply and looked deeply into his face.

"Are you all right Billy?" She asked, her worry growing.

 

[tonyroleplays]

"Are you all right Billy?"

"Of course," he said quickly, his tone lacking sincerity.

He snatched up a box of candles and began stocking the glass case between them. He glanced up to his wife to find her wearing a doubtful expression. He stood tall, hesitated a moment -- not wanting to explain himself -- then drew and released a deep breath as he looked past her to the now unaccompanied Harley's filling the entire curb in front of Gilley's.

"I had an ... incident," he began, "Back in college, just a few days before we met that first time." Billy saw the change in Kelly's expression, and he wondered whether it was just common curiosity about his statement or her recollection of the black eye and swollen lip he'd had that day he'd bumped into her in the Starbucks. Assuming she was remembering that day, he pointed to the tiny scar that she sometimes touched with the tip of her tongue when they were making out and said, "Yeah ... that. I was playing pool with some classmates ... and a bunch of bikers came in and started getting rude and obnoxious ... and one thing led to another ... and I got my ass kicked."

He went back to stocking the case as his wife responded, then stood tall and looked her directly in the eyes. "Worse thing about it was that the girl I'd been dating at the time ... she went off with those fu--"

He stopped short of using the profane word. Kelly had been instrumental in Billy's turn around from his early, wild and crazy, college days. He'd stopped drinking -- well except for a little wine or a craft beer from time to time -- stopped cussing, and -- obviously -- stopped sleeping around. He smiled broadly to his wife and said, "Of course ... if I hadn't gotten beat up ... and my girl hadn't gone off with some biker ... I wouldn't have met you, so ... I guess it was for the best."

He set the empty box aside and looked around the shop. He loved their little gift and souvenir shop. It was very popular with the constant flow of tourist who came to the area for both the wine tours and the scenic gorge just three miles up the narrow highway. The locals didn't spend much money here, what with the Mill closing and the economy taking a hit. But their online sales -- mostly of locally hand crafted goods, from wood carvings to fishing lures to candles -- were keeping the lights on, so the over the counter sales were just gravy.

The sound of one, then another of the Harley's firing up made Billy flinch. As he looked out to see the bikes roar away down Broadway, he suddenly wondered what the rough and tough outlaw bikers would think of a man who sold ceramic reindeer and organic air freshener for a living.

"Will you do me a favor, honey?" Billy asked with an obviously concerned tone. "I ... worry about guys like that." He nodded his head toward Gilley's. Maybe you could forget restocking her display today. Do it tomorrow ... after they've moved on."

Every Friday, Kelly went around to the downtown businesses that featured some of their goods -- currently six, including Gilley's if you could believe that -- and restocked the displays with local goods. The couple made only a small percentage of the sales and -- to be honest -- it really wasn't worth the time invested. But it created good will amongst the locals, and good will often led to bigger bucks down the road, as well as lasting friendships.