though."
"No
offense to the guys, but you're a helluva lot sexier to look at."
"These
club guys," Meredith asks, trying to find the words, "what do they
do? I mean, what do you do with them?"
"We're
not outlaws. We just like bikes. We like the brotherhood. The sense of
belonging that comes from people who think the same way."
Meredith
nods, but she's unsure. I don't blame her. Good girls think bikers are all
criminals. Of course, my club family thinks country club types like her dad are
all criminals too. Assumptions go both ways.
"We
have charity rides," I say, taking her hand and studying her perfectly
pink nails. "One of the guys has a kid with muscular dystrophy, so we have
charity events a few times a year to raise money. When another guy's wife got
hurt in a car accident, we helped out with his expenses. The old ladies took
food to them and watched their kids. The guys helped with the yard and fixed
stuff around the house. It's like an extended family."
"How
long have you been involved with the club?"
"Since
I was twenty. My uncle is in the club and he figured I might enjoy talking
bikes with other guys. I felt lost after high school and didn't know what the
hell to do with myself. My brothers were getting married and having kids. I was
busy dating bad women. I wasted a lot of time with those types of chicks. Good
thing I finally woke up and swore them off."
"Why
exactly did you swear off wild women?"
"Bad
women," I mutter. "You're wild in your own way."
"No,
I'm really not."
I
lean back in my chair and wink at her. "You haven't seen yourself in
bed."
Meredith
blushes and my cock hardens. I think she knows my reaction because a little
smile creeps across her face.
"So
why did you give them up?"
"Who
cares?"
"I
was just wondering if the reason you're fixating on me..."
"Fixating?"
"Is
the reason you're hot for me," she suggests, "because you had a bad
break up? After all, you claimed to seek out certain women and now you're hot
for a very different type of woman."
"You're
forgetting how I was hot for you back in high school."
"Me
and every other girl."
Despite
the truth to her comment, I grunt. "Not even close. I didn't want your
sister or Maria Zulma or Emma or Melissa or Jacqueline or Paula or Elizabeth.
Should I go on?"
"No,
I get the gist."
"Do
you, baby?" I ask, taking her hand again.
"Yes.
I'm just trying to understand why you liked bad girls and now you don't?"
"Trying
to figure out if this temporary?"
"Just
curious."
"Well,
doc, if you want to know why I had a thing for bad women, you can blame my mom.
No doubt blaming parents is pretty standard in your line of work."
Meredith
wants to roll her eyes. I see her struggle against the urge. Once she wins, she
asks, "Why your mother?"
"She
was a slut and a bitch growing up," I say, grinning at her expression.
"Mom says as much. She was a groupie skank. A petty thief. Did drugs and
drank like a sailor. These are her words. She had a lot of fun for years then
she got bored of it. Got a solid job, found a good man, and had a few kids.
Mom's old stories made me think I could marry someone like her. A slutty bitch
who turns around and becomes a good woman."
I
caress the soft skin on the back of her hand. "The problem is I never
really thought that plan through. All those sluts and bitches I dated over the
years probably did eventually become good women. Especially those younger girls
like in high school. I bet they're all soccer moms or business executives. Once
they changed, what the hell would they want with me? I never considered that
part. Things usually ended before they ever turned sweet."
"What
interests you in the slutty bitchy phase?"
"The
sex is usually hot and the drama is entertaining."
"So
what's the downside?"
Thinking
of my long line of ex-girlfriends, I lose my smile. "It's exhausting.
Maybe I'm too fucking old for their shit anymore, but the hot sex isn't enough
to put up with their flaws. The drama is just noise now. This