Chapter 6
Still far from being a palace, the Wayside was much cleaner by five o'clock that evening. The fine layer of grease covering everything was now in the bottom of the mop bucket and a handful of grimy dust cloths sat heaped in a corner behind the bar.
"Everything's clean but us. Come on, let's get dolled up," announced Donna. Obediently, Ruth followed her sister's footsteps, listening to her talk about the Wayside and how she'd come to buy it in a city auction. How she'd raised the money to buy it, she didn't say and Ruth didn't ask.
"Now these bikers trust me, and that means a lot in these parts. And they like their women pretty and quiet... don't ever smart off to a biker or you might loose those pretty front teeth." Ruth snickered, thinking that her father the Reverend Monson would have made an A-l biker. "But don't be shy either," continued Donna cautiously. "Don't run the first time somebody uses a four letter word or slaps your butt. They're great at teasing."
Ruth followed her sister into the attic-like bedroom, listening to the rest of her story and watched as Donna began shamelessly pulling off her clothes and stepping out of them. "You gotta play their games ... and that's why we gotta look sexy. Christ, I hope I don't have a gangbang on my hands when they catch a look at you!"
Two amber eyes peered out from under schoolgirl bangs, a look of fright at the sound of the ugly word. Clumsily she stood by as Donna undressed except for a tiny pair of silk panties that barely covered her honey blonde pubic hair and the lower portions of her smooth, firm buttocks. Her body was sleek as a cat's, sinewy and strong, Ruth could see that her sister had put in a lot of long laborous hours, judging from her remarkable physical condition. Her breasts, though, were decidedly smaller than Ruth's.
"I wish I had your tits," commented Donna casually, looking at herself in the mirror and running her fingers lightly over her own light perky breasts and brown nipples. "Lash's crazy about boobs ... God, I thought he'd squirt it on the wall when he made you show off yours this morning. For a second I thought you were going to say no, and that would have been a mistake, 'cause when Lash starts talkin' in that tone of voice, you better smile real pretty."
Ruth considered asking her sister what Lash did for a living, but decided it might be an embarrassing question and let it drop.
Agilely, her sister slunk into a tight fitting peasant-draw-string dress, sinfully low-cut, scooping dangerously low, exposing the tops and sides of her full tanned breasts and pushing them up slightly to make her even more sexually enticing.
Nervous about undressing with another woman in the room, Ruth shuffled about until she caught her sister's annoyed reflection in the mirror and slipped out of her levis and blouse.
"Oh, God, girl, you can't wear those white cotton panties! Here ..." Sashaying over to her dresser, Donna yanked open a drawer and pulled out a pair of skimpy black bikini panties, then held them up to Ruth's ashen face. "Gotta show a little flesh to these guys," she winked at her little sister while Ruth slid down her offending panties. The new panties had a tendency to ride up into the crevice of her buttocks, leaving the cheeks of her ass completely open to exposure, and they barely covered the pouty vee of her vagina.
"And take off that awful bra!" winced Donna, going to the closet to pull out an outfit. "Maybe in a couple of months when you get used to the place, we can go topless."
Ruth's mouth went dry at that suggestion and she sucked in her breath, and slid off her brassiere, letting her mountainous cherry-tipped breasts sway freely. Then a cold shiver ran down her spine as she pivoted to see her sister dangle from her finger the skimpy denim rhinestone studded skirt and its matching halter top. "I'll never fit into that!" she wailed. "Donna!" One glance in her sister's direction and Ruth relented... defeated. She gave a little cry of embarrassment as she saw her image in the mirror. She was practically naked!
The sequin and rhinestone studded skirt just barely covered her buttocks and hung well below her jewel-like navel; the top was almost nonexistent, two sizes too small, it scooped around her heavy supple breasts, covering only the nipples.
Donna anticipated her protest before it slipped past her rosebud lips. "You want this job or not?"
Biting her lip, Ruth withered inside, and like a lost puppy followed her sister down the steps just as the first of the bikers pulled up outside, turning the air into a choking, dusty cloud.
Impishly, Ruth stood close by her sister who greeted the bikers one by one, introducing them to her sister, making certain names were exchanged. The men were stunned by her beauty... some even blushed. But the women seemed to hate her instinctively, as if she represented a threat to them and she could sense them talking about her behind her back as their boy friends mentally pawed over her body like an army of creeping ants that she couldn't shake off.
"Ah ... honey?" Ruth jumped as somebody squeezed her arm. "Better get these fellas something to drink before they get radical," interrupted Donna coyly, her voice piqued by her sister's inefficiency, and she pointed to the tray on the bar loaded with foamy beer mugs. As is often common to women, Ruth noted the women before the men, and that eased her embarrassment somewhat, for her bare-bellied outfit was a nun's habit compared to what these girls wore! As a group, the biker's women were older than Ruth-most of them in their late twenties and early thirties. Some attractive, some beautiful in an aloof, cool way, with smiles hard as dried glue.
The men looked older than they were, but most fell in the twenty-five to forty-five bracket, with Lash the oldest. All were tough guys who seemed to cruise for trouble, keeping a suspicious eye glued on the door as if the place was about to be raided. They wore heavy boots that scuffed the polished floor, and the smell of man-sweat stung her nose as she daintily passed out the mugs of beer. One, she noticed with a gasp, wore a T-shirt with "Angels eat more pussy" printed on the front, below of which was a picture of a naked woman and a man down on his knees while he licked between her legs. All the rest wore the traditional Hells Angels denim vests ... though some were leather ... and all bore the awesome mark of the skull and cross bones emblem.
Sure enough, five or six times she felt a heavy hand prod under her skirt, tickling the insides of her legs, but she clenched her teeth and hummed a Sunday school hymn to herself as if that silent prayer would chase away any indecency.
They were easy drunks, Ruth soon noticed, as by ten o'clock every one toted a full mug in his hand and a woman in the other, letting itchy fingers slip up blouses to tweak at nipples or slip under waistbands to entangle in pussy hair. The room was heavy with smoke ... tobacco smoke and marijuana smoke ... and the raucous noise of intoxication rumbled like threatening thunder.
Then violence broke out, resolved when a biker slapped his momma hard across the face, sending one front tooth flying through the air to land in somebody beer mug with a plop that sounded like an olive dropping in a martini. No fern libber was this momma! A red welt rose where she had been struck, and immediately crawling to him on her knees, she humbly and submissively begged forgiveness.
That started it. Another biker sauntered up to a woman named Gladys and slit the strap of her bikini with his buck knife, watching as the bikini fluttered to the floor. Nobody got angry. Cursing good-naturedly, Gladys took her time tying the bikini back on.
Ruth couldn't believe her eyes. Why these women were shameless! Did nothing bother them? To a momma next to her she asked that question.
"Embarrassed? Why be embarrassed?" responded the other girl with a careless shrug of her shoulders. "We've all seen Gladys' tits before ... and her pussy... and her ass," she said with a bored expression.
Ruth digested this startling information as the girl named Chris finished her beer, giving the blonde haired seventeen year old ample time to stoke her curiosity. "Tell me," she started, leaning her elbow on the bar and inching closer, "what's it like riding with the Hells Angels? ... I mean, you hear so much about them," she hastily added, fearful she'd overstepped her bounds.
"No big thing after you get used to it. Initiation is a bitch and the tattoo hurts like hell. Like I say, it's pretty rough at first... that informational cost ya a beer, honey."
Ruth wasn't sure her sister was open to drinks on the house, but Donna was off in some corner with Lash and another guy and from the way she had to brace up her head with her hand, she was too inebriated to notice a sleight-of-hand beer. Ruth poured one for herself.
"Thanks, hon . .." smiled Chris. "Like I say, nobody's supposed to know about the initiation rituals, but, shit, they're all over the papers anyway. The press eats up anything on the Angels." She gesticulated with her hands as she spoke. "First you gotta prove you wanna be in the club ... and that means you have to fuck every guy in the club the first night. Believe me, dearie, that was one hell of a night! I couldn't sit down or take a shit for a week."
Contemplatively, Ruth sipped her beer, horrified at what her ears were telling her. "And the tattoo ... where's yours?" Dear Lord in heaven, these women are like branded cattle!
"Sittin' on it. Right here on the left one ... says 'Property of Hells Angels'." Chris pointed to her lifted up buttocks. " 'Nother thing." She licked the foam from her upper lip. "You gotta do whatever your old man tells you. Don't have no say about nothing. If he says fuck that bastard over there, you drop your pants and fuck him ... no ifs, ands, or buts."
"Sounds awful!" blurted Ruth, unchecked.
"Yeah, but you get to dig it after a while."
Not we ... never! I refuse to be treated like a brainless animal. Ruth shivered at the thought of such inhumanity, such lack of pride ... wondering if her sister wore that same sinful badge on her buttocks.
Ruth brushed her bangs aside and gazed over at the biggest table in the corner which was traditionally reserved for the leader of the gang... perhaps because it sat one step up above the rest of the tables ... on the same level with the bar. Beneath a naked twenty-five watt light bulb dangling from the ceiling, sat Donna, Lash, and the second in command, Pete.
Between the two men they controlled the La Honda chapter of the Hells Angels, one of the biggest in the state, a statistic that exalted Lash's ego tenfold and successfully added to his natural meanness and kept him the undisputed leader of the pack ... despite the upcoming rival who conceded to taking second place for now.
That man was Pete who had recently been released from jail on a heavy drUg charge and decided to carry on his drug trafficking career under the protective wing of the Hells Angels. Pete boasted of connections from Vancouver down to Bogota and he dealt in pounds and tons .. . depending on what he was dealing.
Almost a head taller and forty pounds heavier than Lash, Pete had the body of a high school football player and a quick, cruel, judgmental intelligence that clearly marked him a natural leader. Now he was openly acknowledged and respected as second only to the boss. In a coarse looking, animalish sort of way, one could even say Pete was handsome... not the kind of guy a girl would bring home to mother ... but striking.
"But how do we know we can trust her?" argued Pete in the heat of a heavy discussion involving a transaction that would net the Angels enough money to buy the state of California. "Listen, I've been in the pen, I know what people'll do to get out. How the hell do we know she's not some snotty-nosed informer?" he rasped across the table, his dark eyes rapt on Donna who sat a bit nervously, though drunkenly across from him.
"Wait a minute, fella," challenged Donna. "She's my kid sister. The kid hasn't smelled grass or seen coke ... probably never heard of it. The kid's been raised in a church, man .. . her old man's a preacher!" snapped Donna, frustrated by Pete's distrust. This kind of attitude could cost her her business-and without the Angels, she didn't have one.
"Minister?" whooped Lash. "You never told me I was fucking a minister's kid!"
"Yeah, now you know," mumbled Donna, drunkenly pouring herself another mug of beer, then quickly glimpsing up to see Lash's frown at her neglect, she hastened to fill his too.
Pete shed his intense expression, grinning like a Cheshire cat as his dark eyes focussed covetously in Ruth's direction. "Been a long time since I had a cherry . . . she's one, ain't she? I mean being minister's kid and all ..."
"Hey, wait a minute!" stiffened Lash. "I'm still numbero uno and don't you forget that! If anybody brands her ass, it's gonna be me!" He pointed a boney finger at himself, then belched.
"Man, you .already got Gladys and Donna here. How much pussy you need, man?" Pete clearly realized he was overstepping his well defined grounds, but hell, what was life without a contest?
"Guys, guys, guys..." interrupted Donna. "Let's get this trip laid out and forget about my kid sister, okay?"
The plan involved a run to San Diego, pick up the cocaine which would be buried on Donna's property, then dealt later when the heat was off. As holder of the goods, she was promised a fat piece of the pie.
"Jesus, I gotta get my prick into that!" swore Pete, staring at the dimple-chinned Reverend's daughter leaning on the bar, one foot up on the runner to expose a naked, satin thigh as she chatted with Chris. His balls bloating, he couldn't stand it any longer . .. Lash or no Lash. "Hey, Ruth!" he bellowed out, banging his empty beer mug on the table to get her attention which he did-catching her in mid-sentence. In no uncertain terms, he motioned for her to come to his table.
Ruth would have ignored him, had her sister not been sitting at that table of the triumverate, staring at her through silent, emploring eyes warning her not to mess things up between Donna and the Angels ... or back to Daddy she'd go!
"Hey, little girl," grated Pete in a comical dirty old man voice as he watched Ruth hesitantly stroll over and stand clumsily at the table, not knowing what was expected of her. "Sit down in my lap and tell me why a sexy little girl like you has left your Daddy to come join up with the Hells Angels ..."
Everybody laughed but Ruth. Lash threw back his head and bellowed, while Donna snickered over her beer.
Stiffening, Ruth pulled against the strenuous vise on her arm that was starting to throb ... still she pulled back. Aware that he was trying to tease and upset her, she vowed not to play a stupid feminine game like the girl who'd just lost a front tooth.
"What does your preacher Daddy say about his girl running around with no clothes on?" One massive hand reached up to cup the crisp denim cup of her skimpy halter top.
Ruth colored again as he spoke, this time yanking her so hard she lost her balance and fell in his lap, landing hard on the erect penis behind his levi zipper! "I don't have to put up with this!" burst Ruth, kicking her feet to get away, causing quite a scene in the Wayside as heads turned and hushed whispers floated over the room above the jukebox roar.
"Then you're in the wrong place, honey. Round here man's word is the law. Ain't no such thing as equal rights in this country, baby. Won't be long though before you'll whip those tits in the face of any guy I tell you to."
"Never!" she snapped.
His eyes created a full circuit with hers, and lightning could have clashed between them as he gave her arm one final painful twist and shoved her off his lap, sending her tumbling to her knees on the floor. "I think this girl needs a demonstration!" yelled out Pete, quick to spot a challenge. "We need some momma to show this girl the ropes ... show her what it means to be a shit-eating female... to fuck when told to fuck, to suck if told to suck... to get naked when I wanna see some tits floppin'!" Pete was quite an orator, but Ruth wasn't impressed.
On her hands and knees, she crawled halfway to the bar, scared to death he was going to demand any one of those perverted acts.
"I think we oughta start with the tits ..." His eyes bored into hers as he advanced towards her, taking giant steps and, not seeing where she was headed, Ruth bumped into a solid wall of jeering bikers. One hand bolted out to run up the back of her thighs and caress her nearly naked buttocks, while another grasped at her heavy lush breasts with grease-stained fingers.
"Nooooo!" she wailed. "Please let me go, please!" She implored in the direction of her sister who sat laughing at the table, chugging a beer.
Up came a roar of drunken enthusiasm and shouts of "Strip those tits!" and "Take it off!" Spotting a chance to show his magnanimity, Pete raised his hands to quiet them down.
"Remember... we may be Angels, but we're not inhuman. The kid's too scared to put on a good show, so somebody else get up on the bar and show her how a biker's momma can wag them boobs!"
"Yeah ... yeah!" the crowd cheered in agreement, much to Ruth's relief as she cowered, dizzied with fright in the midst of the foul-smelling bikers who'd crowded around her, claustrophobically.
To test his power, then, Pete turned the knife in the guts of his followers when he said, "Lila... you get up there and do your stuff." The crowd grew silent. Lila was Pete's old lady, a lean but curvy redhead who possessed a flashy temper. She wore a pair of cut-off denims, short enough.for her red pubic hairs to peek out around the legs, and a tight men's t-shirt. Glaring at Pete, her green eyes flashing with rage, she knew Pete was shaming her, testing her, trying to find a fault to discard her and pick up on Donna's snippy kid sister... and he was making it a public event. Lila's hate-filled eyes glimmered in Ruth's direction, making her cower with fright. For an instant, it seemed she might refuse, but then she put one foot on the stool and the other on the bar, kicking a tray of half-empty mugs to the floor. Standing with her feet slightly spread and her hands on the slinky hips, she stared defiantly first at Pete, then at Ruth. -- Trouble was in the air, heavy as December snow-filled skies.
Pete stood with arms crossed. "Now show the pretty little girl here how to strip."
Ruth could see Lila's fingers trembling with rage as she worked at the zipper of her cut-offs without a word of protest. Kicking off her sandals, she slid the shorts down over her full bronzed thighs, revealing a pair of sexy black panties, and then stepped out of the shorts casually, kicking them to the floor. Staring straight ahead, Lila crisscrossed her arms and reached down to tug at the T-shirt. This was by no means a strip tease and, despite the blaring jukebox, she made no moves to the music to make her strip provocative or sexy. She was simply obeying an order.
The bikers didn't mind the lack of salacity, though, and they cheered as her T-shirt came up over her rib cage to show off a set of wide-set, brown nippled breasts which, no doubt, they'd all seen before. Ruth had the impression they were cheering because she'd obeyed the order; but her eyes grew big when she noticed Lila's one hundred percent suntan, indicating she'd spent much time sun bathing in the nude.
Lila shot an angry glance in Pete's direction, silently asking for orders; he returned her look un-blinkingly. Ruth felt a strange uneasy sensation trickling through her stomach, one she had difficulty identifying ... fear or excitement? To her shame, she felt her own nipples standing hard and erect beneath the crisp fabric of her halter top. That brought a blush to her cheeks. What would it be like to undress in front of a roomful of people? she wondered, shuddering at the idea, but feeling an undeniable quiver of excitement running through her body as she contemplated it. Never had she understood why men accompanied men to see strip teases. Now she had an inkling.
Obediently, now, Lila slithered out of her black bikini panties. "Happy?" she snapped coldly as she stood totally naked in front of the crowd, her reddish-brown pussy hair bushing over the thin red slit where the lips of her vagina were closed and the tender bud of the girl's pink tiny clitoris. It shocked Ruth that the crowd didn't respond more wildly... a naked woman standing there on the bar with her genitals standing out like a red scarf in front of a mad bull. Nobody touched her, nobody moved.
Ruth noticed, too, that Lila's dark brown nipples were erect and spiky. Did that mean Lila enjoyed this debauchery despite her anger and humiliation.
For a long moment, the room fell silent as the jukebox clicked off and all that could be heard was heavy breathing. The air was ripe with suspense. What would happen now? Would they demand Ruth crawl up on the bar and take. Lila's place? Wasn't her sister going to put a stop to this? This was supposed to be an eatery, not a strip joint.
Pete stepped forward, filling the silence, all eyes rapt on his commanding form. "See, Ruthie," he said, tweaking her cheek with his cruel fingers. "A man's word is the law." As he spoke, the mangy biker walked over to the bar where Lila waited submissively for instructions and he ran his hand up the inside of her sleek thigh. The girl turned to face him, and as she did, Ruth could see the tattoo on one buttock: "Property of the Hells Angels." Pete's eyes followed Ruth's glance and knew her thoughts, his hand still sneaking his hand up to Lila's pussy.
"You'll have one, too. Wait and see."
"No way," muttered Ruth, wondering where her courage was coming from.
By now his hand had climbed all the way to the girl's openly vulnerable pussy and the girl moved her legs just far enough apart to allow him to play there. Ruth gulped as the arrogantly grinning biker spread the delicate hair-covered lips of her cuntal split, dipping one lewd probing finger up inside the smooth wet interior.
Pete laughed self-assuredly. "Wait and see.
Someday that hot little ass of yours will belong to every guy in this room," he said with God-like authority. Then, with his devilishly working fingers, he took the naked girl's exposed clitoris between two of them and. gently milked it "Lila loves this, don't you baby?" he sneered.
"Yes, Pete," she answered blandly.
"Would you let every guy in this room cum in your mouth, if I told you to?"
"Yes, Pete," she answered softly.
"Would you fuck 'em all in the ass, if I told you to?"
"Yes, Pete," mumbled the girl submissively, closing her eyes as a shiver of slowly rising passion brought on by his lewd words ran visibly through her body. Even Ruth could see the wetness on Pete's hand from where Lila's vaginal juices had seeped down from the depths of her finger-filled cuntal passage.
"Now tell the preacher's kid here that you'd do anything I ask." His voice was cruel and cold as his eyes locked on Ruth's.
Surprisingly, the tormented, embarrassed girl opened her eyes, focused on Ruth and spoke unflinchingly with all the passion in her over-stimulating body. "I would do anything he asked," she rasped hotly between the low moans of desire rising hotly up between her open thighs.