Chapter 7
"You came damn close to gettin' your teeth knocked out," barked Donna, nursing a hellish hangover with a cup of black coffee and a bottle of aspirin. "Pete let you off easy ..." her voice trailed off into a painful whimper, then she massaged her pounding temples with the middle fingers of each hand. "Ah, hell..she mumbled disgruntledly. "I guess I'm making you grow up too fast." Then she retched, her eyes growing red and watery, and she clasped on hand over her mouth, running for the bathroom.
In sympathetic silence, Ruth slurped her milk and cereal while she sat at the restaurant table still sticky with spilled beer and littered with dirty ashtrays that stung her nostrils. The only sound was a moan emanating from the restaurant bathroom, followed by a toilet bowl flushing and the sluggish shuffle of bare feet on the steps. Donna had gone back to bed to sleep it off.
With her sister out of the way, Ruth went to work in earnest, sweeping up the cigarette butts, the ground-in bits of broken glass, a few pairs of tattered panties and lost socks. Then she washed all the dishes in hot soapy water, picked some flowers from the woods in back and stuck them in beer mugs to cheer up the bar.
Last night's lewd charade vividly filtered through her memory as she Set out on foot, feeling sad and lonely, wondering if returning to Somerville to face her father's temper would be any worse purgatory than this. She contemplated those possibilities as she walked the seven miles to San Gregorio Beach where Highway One forked into the La Honda road. There, sitting on the sandy cliffs with the Pacific's white tipped breakers crashing at her feet, she saw someone come over the hill-a group of three college boys who offered her a sip of wine from their half-gallon bottle, a taste of bread and cheese and a healthy, civilized conversation. Nobody called her 'girl' or asked her to get up on a bar and strip.
After the blazing fireball in the sky had sunk low to meet the grey, orange-ribboned waters, they gave Ruth a ride back to the Wayside, leaving her off at the dusty road at her request; she was too embarrassed to let decent people see the junky front yard and the skull and crossbones motorcycles parked outside. Inside, the jukebox blared and the old building seemed to rock and roll on its shaky foundations as the bikers whooped and hollered, drank and smoked. Tonight she wanted no part of such squalid indecency and she climbed in the kitchen window and slunk low as an alley cat up the steps to her room.
The seven mile hike had pleasantly fatigued her and she anxiously slipped off her clothes, dumped the sand out of her shoes, and piled her clothes in a corner. In her bra and panties, she lay down on the bed, staring at the thread of cobweb dangling in the corner, yawning and listening to the smash of beer bottles and rowdy laughter below. Quiet rest didn't seem to be on tonight's agenda, so she tip-toed to the shower and returned to her bedroom that seemed terribly stuffy compared to the fresh ocean air. Yet opening the windows meant a night of swatting mosquitoes, so she opted for sleeping in the nude. The Reverend had raised his daughter to think that sleeping in the nude was somehow indecent, but here in California where everybody seemed to do everything naked, it didn't seem quite so sinful.
As she moved toward the bed, she suddenly caught sight of her reflection in the cracked full length mirror and, for some undefinable reason, she stopped to stare. Bodies were a source of sin, according to the Reverend, something you kept covered. But her hypocritical father wasn't here to wag a finger at her, so she took a good hard look to see what all the fuss was about.
Guiltily, she touched her own nakedly hanging breasts, thinking that if they weren't so big, nobody would stare at her. Her curious eyes traveled the length of her supple, ripe young body, roaming over the flat plane of her stomach to the lightly forested triangle of pussy hair. Pete had called it a 'cunt', an ugly word, she thought, as she smoothed down the soft blonde pubic fleece between her slim thighs, still damp from the shower.
Her reverie was interrupted rudely by a crash from below and hell-bent laughter. Tomorrow would be devoted to cleaning up the mess downstairs, she knew, and giving up the inspection of her naked curves, she fluffed up her pillow and slipped between the sheets and snapped out the light.
Sleep was impossible ... even with the pillow over her head. The demolition derby downstairs was deafening. My God, they must be ripping the boards off the walls! What was going on? For an unthinking second, she considered going down stairs to make certain no irreparable damage was being done, but she quickly checked those thoughts as her eyes fell on streaks of light coming from under the thread-bare rug next to her bed. Pulling it aside, Ruth discovered a loose floor board which, when lifted up, opened onto a full view of the downstairs.
The happenings downstairs had to have been an orgy. Most of the cycle mommas had shed their tops and as Ruth scanned the bar, she eyed the hot tempered Lila screaming with drunken laughter as some biker who'd shed his pants licked at her breasts, sucking on her berry nipples. The stench of beer wafted up through the floor and sweet smelling smoke, too.
Donna seemed to have recovered from her hangover. She sat between Pete and Lash who were working at the buttons of her blouse. Her voluptuous sister's head was leaning back, lolling from side to side while Pete played with her firmly raised breasts and unbuttoned her blouse while Lash, grinning evilly, fished around beneath her skirt with one hand, doing something which made her hips twitch every so often, and undoing the fastening of her waistband with the other.
When her blouse fell open, Ruth gaped at her sister's brown nipples spiking out powerfully, testifying to her arousal. Then her view was blocked as both men ducked their heads as if they were fishing for apples and sucked at her nipples.
Lash yanked at the side of her skirt and it came away in his strong hand, leaving Donna clothed only in her red panties. Drunkenly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and Lash lowered her to the hard floor, rolling on top of her and covering her breasts with his lips.
How could her sister, raised as decently as "herself, consent to allow two men to maul over her body at once . .. like vultures picking at bone's!
"Hey, Lash!" called Pete, poking his leader in the ribs. "Let's get that meeting out of the way."
"Ah, fuck the meeting! I wanna slam it to her!" growled the biker, positioning himself between Donna's willing, widely spread thighs and clawing at her panties.
"That's not cool, boss," urged Pete. "We gotta do it, or we'll blow the whole deal!"
"Okay, okay," grunted Lash with irritation. "Get those assholes quieted down and we'll talk. Shit, just when I got a hard-on."
What in God's name was going on? wondered Ruth, half hanging out of her bed as she watched the half-naked hoodlums hold a meeting. What kind of meeting?
Oddly coupled pairs were also writhing nakedly on the floor and Pete had to kick a few butts to get everyone in attentive order. Some of the women sat nakedly on the floor, some squatted on the beer eases.
Shaking her head dizzily, Donna got up from the floor and sauntered over to Lash, not bothering to cover her lush nakedness. As the Hells Angels leader waited for order, he stuck his hand down the back of Donna's red panties and poked around in her buttocks.
"Let's make this quick. I got other things on my mind!" bellowed Lash, poking a finger into Donna's puckered anal ring, bringing a giggle to her lips. "We leave tomorrow when everybody's sobered up. We meet at the fork in the road." A general rumble of agreement rang through the air.
"No dope, no bottles, no rubbers, no nothin'!" He waved a negative gesture in the air. "We go clean as whistles cause they've been stoppin' a lot of bikers down near Big Sur since those campers got cut up so bad."
Somebody snickered in the back of the room.
"Shuddup! We go down to the mountains, pick up the shit, bring it back and bury it here. We got the shit sold through Vancouver, so's we sit on it for awhile. We gotta be cool, we gotta be cautious and we gotta look out for bastards in wing-tipped shoes ... they're always Feds. Ain't nothing worse than an honest cop."
"What then?" asked some girl in the back.
"Who's buyin' the stuff?" demanded another.
Pete stepped forward. "Man, if you don't trust me, you don't trust the Angels. I got a skin-tight deal set up with a buddy of mine from the pen. Lash knows him, Donna too. In fact he's given us some front money to pick up the goods. Now I don't wanna hear any fucking remarks about trust, okay?"
Nobody moved a muscle.
"Anybody here don't like the set-up, let 'em speak up now." Nobody let out a peep. Satisfied, Pete stared at Donna. "Now Donna don't much like this, but I've told her I ain't so convinced about her little sis who showed up so timely. I gave it some thought and decided she's the only hole in the ship. Either we gotta stash her somewhere or take her along."
'Take her along!" chanted three bikers in unison, licking their lips at the thought of the blonde haired big boobed minister's kid.
Ruth lay in her bed frozen with fear, not knowing what to do, listening, waiting for her sister's reply: "Yeah, fine with me. Might warm her up a bit." Ruth's skin crawled with that reply.
"Don't worry, Donna, I'll take good care of her."
Lash shot an angry look at his second-in-command, realizing he'd been out-maneuvered, but to raise a ruckus in front of the members would create distrust. Anyway, the bikers were reaching for their beer and their old ladies again. Discussion was closed.
Upstairs Ruth's teeth fairly rattled with fear and rage aimed at her heartless sister who had willingly turned her frail sister over to a gang of criminals as a hostage, an abducted princess, a sacrificial lamb...
"To hell with this!" muttered Ruth blasphemously, failing to find any romanticism in black Harley Davidsons and foul smelling bikers. She'd happily return to Somerville and read novels for excitement ... but none of this!
Somebody downstairs was congratulating himself on his quick thinking, and that man was taking the steps three at a time now up to the bedroom flat where he knew Ruth would be planning for her great escape to avoid tomorrow's joy ride. Lucky for Pete that Lash ignorantly brought up the matter of trust. Of course everybody trusted Donna; she'd hidden a few Angels when the Feds were out scouring the woods for them, but it was her kid sister that all the ruckus was about. And by prodding their naturally suspicious natures, Pete had wiled his way into playing guardian to that big-boobed little honey! Lucky too, that he'd heard the squeaking of the loose floor board flap shut just as he'd announced his plans to take her along.
Since he'd lain eyes on her last night he'd barely been in his right mind, thinking about that ripe, tight body of hers, and that sweet, innocent expression ... kind of scared and shy. All the other chicks in his group had been fucked shitless so often that it made no difference to them. There was no fight left in them and Pete liked a little fight, not a woman who'd drop her panties at the first smell of cock.
He halted before the door, his ear to it picking up the sounds of a window being forced open. With a strong shove, he pushed the door wide open and stepped inside.
"Get out of here!" cried the full breasted young woman, clad only in a flannel nightgown while she straddled the window sill, one foot on the porch roof ready to make her escape.
"Hey, you ain't goin' nowhere now, are ya, hon?" he taunted.
Ruth reached down to snatch up the tattered suitcase that sat at her feet, but the able-bodied Pete bolted across the room and grabbed it out of her tiny hand just as she was gathering her courage to leap out the window onto the porch and risk breaking an ankle in a heroic leap to the ground.
"What do you want?" she cried at him, tears building from rage and terror, wrestling to get out of his clutch.
"I saw you snooping down at our meeting and so I guess you know your sister's put you in my custody."
Ruth swore for the first time in her life. "Bullshit!" she bellowed, her cleft chin nearly slitting in half from her screwed up expression as she kicked at his groin with her bare foot while he dragged her screaming back onto the bed and threw her down to hover dominantly above, coming out with a few foul words himself.
"You're in Angel territory honey, and our word is law." As he spoke, the tall young biker began unbuttoning his shirt, slipping it off his muscular shoulders and dropping it casually on the floor as Ruth cowered on the bed, a whimpering little girl with knees pulled up to her chest and a tremble on her lips.
"What-what are you doing?" asked Ruth, her voice quivering with trepidation.
"Why, I'm taking my clothes off, 'cause it's time to fuck. From now on, you and me are gonna be ridin' together and I'm not gonna let you out of my sight... not even to take a leak, so you better get used to me." His levis fell to the floor and he stepped out of them. Hands on his hips, he stood above her appraisingly, a broad grin spreading across his full, generous mouth. "Stretch out, baby, I'm hoppin' in. I don't wanna sleep with no scrunched up Teddy bear, so stretch them legs out!"
Ruth, too horrified to speak, looked at his broad, hair-covered chest and the enormous bulge beneath his underpants. She was trapped ... a prisoner in the hands of a murderous Hells Angel. A preacher's daughter and a Hells Angel, she thought with horror. Is this exciting enough for you? her rational mind accused, with her weaker psyche begged for the safety of Somerville and Sunday morning services.
"This is gonna be beautiful," he said. "You're the most beautiful piece of ass I ever laid eyes on and I snatched you right out from under ol' Lash's nose."
The mattress sagged under his weight as he lay down on his side, pulling at Ruth's cowering body, straightening out her legs, pulling her arms away from her chest as if she were a rubber doll. Tm gonna make you feel so damned good." She struck out at him blindly as he started lifting up the hem of her nightgown, but he answered with a fierce slap across the face, a merciless stinging blow that made her ears ring like church chimes.
"How that whore Donna can have a sister like you ain't believable," he snarled.
"My sister isn't a whore!" she screamed back at him.
"Oh, yeah, well look at this!" Sitting up in bed, one hand entwined in her long blonde hair, he kicked aside the rug and smashed his heel into the loose floorboard, opening up the floor to the orgy below, and swung her body half off the bed for a good look.
The scene resembled a whorehouse orgy!
Everyone in the room was stark naked and drunk. Off in one corner Donna was kneeling on all fours, locked in an obscene embrace with two bikers. Arms and legs were everywhere and Donna's head was buried in Lash's openly grinding loins while the other man was fucking into her from behind.
Pete watched the young girl's eyes widen as she took in the lewd scene, and then pulled the rug back over the hole. He'd seen it so many times ... a bunch of people fucking and sucking each other off ... that it didn't interest him. He had all he wanted right here, and he left the window peeping to the voyeurists.
Rolling over on one side, he peeled his under-shorts down off his body, letting his thick, hardening cock spring forward like a pop-up toy. She whimpered as he forcibly peeled her flannel nightgown off, ripping it from the tiny plastic buttons at the neck to the hem, then he rolled her out of it. He grinned at her as they lay naked side to side, pulling the heavy foreskin back and forth with his fingers to expose the bulbous head of his knob-heavy cock.
"Like what you see?" he inquired cruelly, knowing perfectly well that he was the best hung in the gang and damn proud of what he could do with it. Deep down inside lurked a sadist who enjoyed exposing himself to this innocent, helpless girl, his evil mind dwelling on what his huge cock would do to her tender unexperienced vagina. Ruth cringed back, unable to draw her eyes away from the terrifying sight. In her only sexual encounter she hadn't even seen Ricky's penis and it had never occurred to her that men got that big!
Pete laughed cruelly as she recoiled, trying to squirm away from him on the bed, the shreds of her nightgown clutched to her breasts in a feeble attempt at modesty. "Hey, let's see those tits everybody's talkin' about. My little friend here is just a toy, something to play with. It ain't gonna hurt ya."
Ruth's strength had flowed out of her body, leaving her paralyzed as he roughly yanked the ripped gown from her breasts, leaving her naked and defenseless on the mattress, her eyes locked on his steel-hard equipment between his legs.
It's too big, she thought. He'll ruin me! She sank into the mattress trying to disappear as he raised himself up on his hands and knees and crawled towards her, his monstrous cock hanging between his legs like a loaded cannon ready to fire.
"Don't ... please," she whimpered, hoping to arouse some spark of mercy in his cruel heart. If and When he decided to rape her, she realized, there would be no hope of fighting it. Even if they should by some miracle hear her scream downstairs, who would come to help her? Any passersby would take one look at those cycles outside and speed up, lucky to get away with his life.
No, it was hopeless. Her strength was dissipated and she was naked and alone, completely at his mercy ... or lack of it.
His meaty muscular hands reached her and with a sudden jerk, he pulled her up against him and thrust his mouth over hers, his tongue snaking down past her lips into the depths of her throat. Limply, she lay next to him, despair filling her mind as the hardness of his angry penis dug into her soft belly.
This was it, she realized as his hands roamed over her shivering body, working his way down the length of her naked figure, running his lips between the twin peaks of her mountainous breasts until he reached the flat plane of her belly. Tormentingly, his tongue darted into her navel, making her groan and yank at his hair to pull him away. But with a low growl, he pushed even further down, aiming for the vee of her thighs and reaching underneath her buttocks with his hands to raise her naked loins up to meet his face.
Dear God, will I ever be able to enjoy sex... will I always be so weak and the men so strong? Was romanticism dead ... ? Were those novels wherein strangers met on a bus, fell in love and saved it for marriage all a cruel joke?