Fearless Curves Read online

  “You’re making me uncomfortable,” I replied, tore my eyes from Jack’s and looked down at my lap self-consciously.

  “I can see that. You’re cute when you’re trying not to fuck me silly,” he said. My head jerked up and I looked at Jack but no words came to mind. I was dumbfounded by his forward manner and I just stared as he grinned back at me. I swallowed hard again and then one thought entered my mind. The one and only response I could think of right then.

  “Stockings,” I whispered and bit my lip. My heart was pounding and my breathing shallow. Jack chuckled softly and stood up. What was I doing? I couldn’t help myself. I was afraid of the way Jack made me feel, out of control and far too adventurous, but I found I wanted to do exactly as he suggested.

  “Let’s go get fucked up, you and I, and see where things wind up,” he said. I wanted to say yes but should I? Jack was cute, don’t get me wrong, but he was a biker, a trouble maker, an outlaw of sorts. I was a lawyer for goodness sake. I shouldn’t be cavorting with men like Jack. However, I wanted to meet this bad girl he spoke of, see if I did indeed have a dark side as he implied. This man was going to get me into trouble.

  “I don’t have a helmet,” I said and a flush of excitement and shame came over me. I was really going to do this despite my half-hearted attempt to find one last excuse.

  “Fuck it. It’s not far. You’re a lawyer. You can talk the cop out of the ticket,” Jack said and winked at me. Fuck!

  “I’m in a skirt,” I said wondering how that might work but sure Jack had a solution. Jack just laughed as he offered his hand. I took it, feeling as if the gesture signaled some kind of major shift in my life, and he pulled me to my feet. He looked me up and down and I could barely endure his gaze. It was intense and I could feel the desire in his eyes as he drank my curvy figure in.

  “Damn, I love me a girl in a little lawyer outfit,” he said and tugged me behind him as he bent and grabbed his helmet. I grabbed my handbag and phone then turned off the lights as we went. Jack barely stopped long enough for me to lock the office as we left. I closed the metal bars over the glass door that matched the bars over the windows and locked them too. When I turned, Jack handed me his helmet.

  “I was kidding, you can wear mine. I’ve got a hard head, or so my old man says,” he told me. I shuffled along in my pumps, stuffed my phone in my pocket and my handbag under my arm as I tried to put the helmet on. Thankfully, I put my long, dark hair in a ponytail that morning so it wouldn’t look too bad after wearing the helmet. But as I cinched the strap tight I saw Jack’s bike.

  “Maybe I should drive,” I said as I looked the bike over. It was a piece of junk. Faded, cracked paint, rusty chrome and worn leather. I wasn’t getting on that thing.

  “It’s a rat bike, old school, doll. It’s supposed to look like that. I promise, it’s solid and it rides like a dream,” he said. I looked at him skeptically and then back at the bike.

  “It’s supposed to look like that?” I asked.

  “We could take your cage if you want,” he said and when he saw the confusion on my face he told me, “You’re car. I call them cages.”

  “Oh, well...,” I began to say but then I decided I’d gone this far. “Yeah, let’s take your bike, I guess. It’s not far, right?” I told Jack and handed him my handbag which he stuffed into one of the worn leather saddlebags. He grinned and straddled the bike. At least it had a seat made for two and a bar behind that to keep me from falling off. Jack fired up the bike and it roared to life, shaking the ground with its low rumble. I could feel the vibration to my core. I stood there trying to think of a lady-like way to mount the bike but I was beginning to believe that wasn’t possible

  “Hike up your skirt,” he said. I looked around self-consciously.

  “But people will see,” I complained.

  “Yeah, give us a show, doll,” Jack said. I smiled despite myself and looked around again. I reached down and grabbed the hem of my skirt, took a deep breath and hiked it up over my stocking tops so I could straddle the bike. I did it quickly and reluctantly but it was a bit of a thrill. I felt naughty and I kind of liked that feeling. What was this man doing to me?

  “Feet on the pegs, watch the exhaust pipe and hold on to something,” he said.

  “Hold on to what?” I asked as a bit of panic set in.

  “The sissy bar or me,” he said and I chose the sissy bar, which I assumed was the tall, rusty, U-shaped bar behind me made of ornately twisted metal tubing. Jack turned, revved the bike, popped the clutch and we took off like a shot, the bike growling loudly as we did. Immediately I grabbed Jack instead as the power of the bike surprised me, wrapping my arms around his torso and finding his body as hard as it looked. He laughed as we tore down the boulevard and I held on to him for dear life.

  I’d never been so terrified in my whole life as Jack sped down the boulevard, weaving in and out of traffic and generally going way too fast. We turned a corner and I was sure we were going to tip over. I squeezed him even tighter pressing my face against his back and closing my eyes. We didn’t tip, however, and when we came out of the turn I felt a rush of relief mixed with excitement.

  “You’re going to kill us!” I shouted, my words barely audible over the roar of the engine and the wind. Jack laughed, a maniacal kind of cackle, and twisted the throttle. The motorcycle reacted immediately and accelerated strongly.

  “Oh shit!” he hissed suddenly and hit the brakes but it was too late. A Metro cruiser was lying in wait behind a building as we ripped past. I turned to see the lights and siren flare to life and the Metro officer pull onto the Boulevard to pursue. “Hold on, doll!” Jack said and turned down the next side street as I squealed in terror.

  We weaved and dodged through the back streets of the industrial area near the freeway and soon the Metro cruiser was lost in the maze behind us. Jack slowed, took us into a parking lot and then hid the bike behind a delivery truck and shut it down.

  “What do you think you’re...,” I began to ask.

  “Shh,” Jack warned me. I let go of him and sat behind him seething at being shushed as much as being taken on that harrowing escape. I crossed my arms and waited, frowning indignantly. Then the Metro cruiser drove past, his lights off and the siren no longer blaring. I held my breath, sure we’d be seen and arrested. Jack’s hand rested on the starter button as if he was ready to run if we were seen. I couldn’t go to jail. I was a lawyer, an officer of the court, and I’d probably lose my license. The cruiser disappeared and for a moment Jack and I remained still.

  “All right, he’s gone,” Jack said.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

  “What?” Jack asked all innocently as if he had no idea what I meant.

  “You almost got me killed and then you almost got me arrested. I could lose my law license,” I told him angrily.

  “You weren’t doing anything wrong. I was at the controls, you’re wearing a helmet. I’d probably go to the pokey and then you’d get me out,” Jack told me confidently.

  “Don’t be so sure. Take me back to the office,” I ordered.

  “No! You liked it and you know it,” he replied self-assuredly. I’d had enough. It wasn’t fun and I didn’t like it. That’s what I told myself anyway.

  “Fine, I’ll walk back,” I said and started to get off the bike. Jack, however, reached back with his arms and pinned my stocking clad thighs to his sides. “Let go of me!” I told him.

  “You’re not going anywhere unless it’s with me, Brandy,” Jack said as he looked over his shoulder at me. I stared at him with fire in my eyes but he wasn’t finished. “That was exciting wasn’t it? Dangerous and thrilling? You liked it. You’re turned on beyond belief. In fact, I bet you’re panties are soaked right now,” the bastard told me.

  It wasn’t so much that what he said was offensive and crude, it was that he was right. I didn’t want to admit it. My pride dictated I not give him the satisfaction but I was afraid too. Frightene
d of admitting I liked riding behind him, of finding the brief chase and escape thrilling or the fact my panties were likely soaked through. So what did I do? I just stared at him but the edge had left my eyes.

  “Uh huh. I’ll take your silence as an admission that I’m dead on,” Jack said as the roguish grin crept across his face. I wondered if that’s where the nickname came from. Still, I didn’t speak. I just looked into Jack’s eyes as his hands released their grip in my legs and moved towards the apex of my thighs. I stiffened and gasped. Then he found my garters and slipped his fingers under them, never taking his eyes from mine as he looked over his shoulder. Jack smiled, tugged on the garters and let them snap back into place.

  “Ouch!” I said though it didn’t really hurt.

  “If you’re through throwing your little fit, doll, let’s go have some real fun,” Jack told me. I didn’t reply or nod, only staring into his gray eyes unable to reveal my desire to do just as he suggested. He chuckled knowingly, sure of the effect he was having on me and then fired up the bike as I wrapped my arms around him again. We took off like a shot, roaring down the street without regard for speed limits or common sense. How did this biker see right through me, see my deepest desires, when I couldn’t?

  >>O<<<br />
  We had to park Jack’s bike down the street because there were so many biker’s parked in front of the bar. Hogs and Heifers was jumping with loud rock music pouring out of the front doors and leather clad men and women milling about outside as well as inside. It was spring but already like summer in Las Vegas. Inside, there was barely room to maneuver through the crowds of bikers and sightseers. I looked absolutely out of place in my blue skirt suit, though I’d left the suit’s jacket in one of Jack’s saddlebags so I didn’t look like a complete frump.

  We made our way to the long bar, where several women danced on top wearing very little in the way of clothes. I wasn’t sure if they worked there or if they were customers. The band was playing classic rock, the singer a girl built like me and her band an eclectic mish mash of looks and styles. The banner behind them read “Silicone Wookie.” They were pretty good and the crowd seemed to appreciate their music.

  “Here,” Jack said drawing my attention from the band and its curvy lead singer. He held a shot glass.

  “What is it?” I asked. Jack raised an eyebrow and just stared at me. “It’s Jack Daniels, isn’t it?” I asked though I was sure I was right. Jack smiled and threw back his shot. I smelled mine and it burned my nose but I put it to my lips anyway and tossed mine back as well. “Fuck!” I said as the whiskey burned my throat and warmed by insides. Jack handed me another and clinked his second shot against mine. He readied his and I followed suit and we tipped back the shots together.

  “Oh my God!” I said and Jack grinned at me. I could already feel the alcohol working its evil magic but it felt good. I usually didn’t act like this. I was always worried what people might think or that I’d get in trouble. It wasn’t like I didn’t have fun but I always held myself in check, made sure things never got out of hand. I was having a hard time stopping myself at the moment, however.

  “Let’s dance, doll,” Jack said and grabbed my hand. I barely had time to set my shot glass on the bar before Jack was leading me through the crowd. There wasn’t a dance floor so much as an area in the middle of the cozy bar where couples danced amongst the other patrons. Jack stopped and turned to face me, his arms sliding around my hips as he began to sway against mine. I followed his lead as my head buzzed pleasantly.

  “You’re a troublemaker, you know that?” I told Jack. He flashed that roguish grin at me and squeezed my round ass. I looked around wondering if anyone might be looking and the full-figured lead singer of the band was watching as she sang and winked at me. I smiled and blushed.

  “I’m going to fuck you tonight,” Jack told me. I turned my attention back to him and frowned.

  “What?” I asked. Jack pulled me closer and kissed me suddenly. The whiskey on his breath mixed with the whiskey on mine as his tongue slipped into my mouth. I went stiff as his hand found the front of my blouse and he undid another button exposing even more of my ample cleavage. Then he broke the kiss and I could feel his erection pressed against me through his jeans.

  “You heard me. In a couple of hours, you’ll be down to your stockings, garter belt and heels, bent over and coming like a cheap whore,” he said. I gasped but his words sent a tingle through my body. I bit my lip and wondered why I wasn’t offended or angered. Maybe it was his gray eyes bearing down on me, the whiskey working its way through me or maybe just some long denied desire. Whatever it was, I imagined the scene he described and it warmed me to my core.

  “Why not right now?” I asked brazenly. Damn it, I wanted Jack but I wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t my type, though I wasn’t really sure what my type was. I was raised to be a good girl, to follow the rules and avoid men like Jack. He was trouble but right then, I wanted trouble for some reason and in direct opposition to everything I’d been taught throughout my life. I needed to see where this went even though I knew it probably wasn’t a good idea.

  “Patience, doll. Let it age. Let the embers smolder a while,” he said. Oh, he was good. Now that I’d made the decision, for good or ill, to give myself to him he was going to make me wait. Damn him! We danced through a few songs, Jack staring into my eyes and feeling me up boldly. I was forced to slap his roaming hands away a few times for fear he’d start undressing me right then and there. When he had me all worked up and breathing heavy, we headed back to the bar. On the way, however, a drunken biker approached.

  “Who’s the bloody, librarian?” he asked and cackled, amused at his lame joke. He was missing a couple of teeth and reeked of whiskey and worse.

  “Piss off, pal,” Jack said to him. I was just going to ignore him. I’d been big my whole life and I was used to stupid people saying stupid things. My skin had grown thick but I’d been called worse than a librarian, especially considering I was essentially dressed like one at the moment.

  “Fuck you and your fat old lady,” the biker said and spit at Jack but missed him and his spittle landed on my blouse.

  “You just wore out your welcome, fucker,” Jack said casually and then punched the ragged biker square in the face. The stinky biker dropped like a rock to the floor and laid there bleeding from his nose trying to figure out how he got down there. Some of the crowd turned to see what the commotion was all about and I was sure we’d have to run out like we ran from the cop. However, the crowd gave the whole scene a collective shrug. One tall biker wearing a bandana and sporting a big beer belly even complained that there wasn’t going to be a real fight.

  “Oh my God! You just knocked him out!” I exclaimed.

  “He had it coming. He called you...,” Jack said but paused half a second and I was sure he was going to say fat but he didn’t. “...a librarian. You’re a fucking lawyer not a librarian,” he teased and winked at me. I smiled back, grateful for the gallantry and not focusing on my weight. A couple of bouncers came and dragged the fallen biker towards the door as if this was all totally normal.

  “I thought you were going to say...,” I began to reply but Jack interrupted.

  “Fat? Well you are,” he said. I was big but I wasn’t...well, I mean I guess...what? So much for my gratitude.

  “What?” I challenged him. I was fat, I suppose, but he didn’t have to say so.

  “Sorry, doll. You’re a big girl and one of the sexiest I’ve ever seen. I’m going to fuck your fat ass and you’re going to love every minute of it...and so am I. I’m not ashamed that I find girls like you sexy as hell. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it either,” he said. I swallowed hard and then looked away and grinned like a fool. I found the courage to meet Jack’s gaze again, biting my lip and feeling that warm tingle between my legs again. I’d never let my weight bother me. Not really, I mean. Sure I wished I was thinner and all that but suddenly being big felt really, really good.

  “You sure w
e can’t go now?” I asked, maybe pleaded. That wasn’t me. I wasn’t usually so...forward...or was it desperate. But there I was all but begging this biker to take me to bed.

  “Nope,” Jack told me and walked past me towards the bar. I sighed and followed like an eager puppy. Girl, get a grip! I was acting totally out of character and the more I did, the more I wanted to. Jack ordered us a couple of shots and two beers. Another biker and the woman he was with vacated a couple of bar stools to go dance and we took them over. Several patrons had joined one of the female bartenders on the bar and danced to AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” that the band was playing. I prepared to down my shot of Jack Daniels and noticed Jack looking up one of the lady’s skirts. She was looking down at him, encouraging him to do it and she wasn’t wearing panties anymore.

  “What, you want a peek?” he asked when he noticed I’d caught him. The woman danced my way and lifted her skirt and stroked herself for my benefit.

  “No! I mean...um...,” I stammered and Jack laughed as did the woman who then winked at me and danced away. “You’re a...a...a rogue,” I said.

  “It’s not just a road name,” he said and suddenly turned towards me. His hand slid under my skirt and he stroked me through my panties. I gasped and looked around but it seemed nobody saw or maybe they just didn’t care. “Nobody wears stockings and garter belts anymore. What’s that all about?” he asked as he found my swollen nub. I sighed and tried to concentrate on the question as the warm pleasure spread from between my thighs.

  “I hate pantyhose and stockings are so classy. I like the way they look and feel,” I said.

  “So, you consider yourself a fancy girl, huh?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, I guess,” I replied as I felt a rush of desire. Jack’s hand stroking me under my skirt might have been part of that.

  “I thought only whores wore stockings,” he suggested. I frowned.

  “Well, maybe I’m a classy whore,” I replied and slammed my shot and then took a big gulp of beer right after that. Jack grinned but he slipped his hand out of my skirt. I found I was severely disappointed he had but even more so when we licked his finger clean. Whether it was only to tease me or my essence was actually on his finger, I didn’t know or care. I reached out and grabbed the thick ridge in his jeans.