Fearless Curves Page 7

  Fredrick’s was our first stop. Even five years ago, I couldn’t find anything in places like that but anymore it seemed they had embraced us bigger girls. Sarah complained they still didn’t always accommodate the taller girl, by which she meant crossdressers. We found what she was looking for, lace top black stockings and a faux leather garter belt.

  “God, I wish I could wear these out,” she told me.

  “Why can’t you?” I wondered. Sarah glanced down towards her crotch. “Oh, yeah,” I replied.

  “Mrs. Winky needs more than some flimsy panties to stay out of site. Don’t worry, I indulge my love of stockings in the bedroom,” she said and winked at me. I blushed despite myself and she laughed at me. “You’re so cute, Brandy,” she told me before we checked out. That’s all we needed from a lingerie shop. Sarah convinced me that panties would only get in the way if my plan was to seduce the sexy biker and that after the wet t-shirt contest she was sure that putting my breasts in a bra was sacrilege.

  We were done by one and I had what I was sure Jack would love in the bags I carried to the place we choose for lunch. I was excited to try it all on at once and even more excited to show it to Jack. “God, I hope this is the right thing to do,” I said after we ordered.

  “Why?” Sarah asked. She knew me as the crazy girl who liked showing her tits. She didn’t really know I wasn’t really like that normally.

  “I’d never done anything like that wet t-shirt contest or smoking pot or screwing a guy I hardly know,” I confessed. Sarah looked at me funny.

  “I know. Trudy told me. I used to be like you until I met Trudy. I was a closet crossdresser. I longed to go out and be the real me but I was so scared of what everyone would say, of getting caught or outed in public or someone thinking I was gay. When Trudy caught me dressed up, I thought I would die. But she was so cool about it. She suggested I should go out if that’s what I wanted. Long story short, she really helped me to live without fear, without worry,” Sarah told me.

  “She kind of said the same to me. She’s always been fearless, you know. Or she acts that way,” I replied.

  “She’s not acting. Neither am I anymore. I just don’t give a crap and I’m so happy. I thought doing this would be a constant battle with my feelings and fears but it’s not. I’m so not afraid anymore. If people want to think I’m gay or a sissy or whatever...,” she said and paused for effect, “They’d be right!” Sarah winked at me and we both laughed but I knew just what she meant. She was who she was and she could either deny it or embrace it. I was in the same boat, I suppose.

  “Are you gay?” I asked curiously.

  “I like guys when I’m Sarah. I’d be lying if I told you I haven’t blown a guy or twelve in a parking lot at a gay bar dressed up like this. Am I gay? It’s just a label. I’m just me and if dressing like a girl and sucking the occasional guy off makes be gay, so be it. Look, Brandy, you need to be who you are. If you’re a bad girl, biker bitch deep inside, you’ll know. Embrace it. Be fearless, girl. Go get that man, be all you can be and all that shit,” she told me. I laughed as the waitress brought our sandwiches. Fearless, I liked that. We ate changing the conversation to lighter fare then paid and left. I had another appointment that afternoon at the salon so I said my goodbyes to Sarah and thanked her.

  “You’re so welcome. I hope it works out with the biker. If not, give him my number,” she said and winked at me.

  “We need to do this again,” I told her. She agreed and hugged me.

  “Maybe, I’ll have you and that biker over to the house. Trudy too,” she offered.

  “I’d like that. I don’t know about Jack, but maybe,” I told her. She gave me that look as if she knew what I meant. Jack might be fine with hanging out with a crossdresser but he probably wouldn’t be. Then again, who knew?

  “We’ll see. Call me and let me know how it goes, OK,” Sarah said. I promised and we hugged again then went our separate ways. I wasn’t sure but I think Sarah and I were becoming friends. I kind of liked that. She was sweet and though I knew she was a man under all those clothes, makeup and wigs, I didn’t care. I considered her as a woman, I’d never seen her as anything else, and I liked her no matter what.

  After my trip to the salon, I went home to relax before I headed out to meet Jack. Nerves gave way to anticipation. I could feel it in my core, the desire to be his again, feel him inside of me, to submit to him. I remembered his chiseled body covered in ink and his broad, hard shaft, that scruffy but sexy beard, the way he called me doll and his piercing gray eyes. Whoa, girl! Settle down.

  I got up and went about getting ready. I trusted Sarah’s taste but I wasn’t entirely sure I could pull it off. The outfit wasn’t classic biker. No leather vest, no tight blue jeans and no black boots but Sarah assured me I’d look fantastic. I hoped so. I showered and fixed my hair, admiring the new shock of pink they added to my almost black hair at the salon. I considered a temporary color but I decided to just go for it. I left my hair straight but pulled it behind my ears.

  In my ears, I wore dangling silver crucifixes. I did my eye makeup heavy and dark, applied dark plum lipstick that matched my nails after the pedicure and manicure and then put on the leather collar Sarah insisted on. It was kind of sexy, I had to admit. Then I went to put on the stockings, garter belt and then finally the dress. It was red with a faint snakeskin texture. The top was stretchy and skin tight with a low cut back and front that showed off my cleavage and long sleeves that went to my wrists.

  The bottom was made of the same material but the skirt was pleated and hung loose. It left little to the imagination, including my stocking tops and garters. The fact Sarah demanded I forego panties made the short and loose skirt a bit...thrilling actually. I admired myself after slipping on the red platform heels with the wide ankle strap held about my leg with little brass padlocks. I looked like a hooker, a whore. Perfect!

  Jack didn’t give me a time to meet him so I guessed about seven. It was close enough when I called a cab and met it down stairs in front of my building. The driver, an older Asian man, looked me up and down and smiled broadly. His eyes kept drifting to my reflection in the rearview mirror. I didn’t mind. It was kind of flattering. Besides, he weighed like a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. I could take him if he got fresh.

  He dropped me off at the biker bar near downtown Vegas. I paid him and gave him a generous tip then turned to look for Jack’s bike. I would have thought his ratty bike would have stood out but I realized that a fair number of bikes looked like his, drab, rusty and faded. Maybe old school bikes were in now but I couldn’t fathom why. I searched in the evening light and then I felt someone behind me. I turned, expecting to see Jack but came face to face with the same drunken biker Jack punched the last time I was here.

  “Where’s your old man?” he asked as his hands moved to touch me. I backed away.

  “He’s inside. Get away from me,” I replied. He wasn’t listening.

  “You’re going to pay for last week, bitch,” he said. He pulled a knife out of his leather Jacket. Oh shit! I could have screamed but the music pouring from Hogs and Heifers was loud and the cab dropped me at the end of the street. “Yeah, your old man thinks he’s pretty tough but he’s not here, is he?” the drunken biker said. Suddenly, my back was against the wall. The biker staggered towards me and began groping me with his free hand and held the knife menacingly. I had to do something.

  “He’s not here but you are. How about I suck your dick and we play nice?” I said. I wasn’t in the mood for this loser’s bullshit. He looked at me and smiled revealing his missing front teeth. He folded the knife sure I was going to give him a good time. His guard was down and that’s when I balled up my fist and punched him square in the face.

  “Aw, fuck! You broke my nose you fat whore,” he exclaimed. I walked up to him as blood was pouring through his hands as he held his face and put my knee in his crotch. The biker howled in pain and tumbled to the sidewalk.

  “I might
be a fat whore, but I’m not your fat whore. Fucking loser! Is that all you got?” I challenged him and then turned to walk away. I saw immediately saw Jack leaning against a street lamp as he began to clap his hands slowly in approval. “Get a nice show?” I asked slightly perturbed. Was he going to just watch me get raped or what?

  “I would have stepped in but something told me you didn’t need my help. That was impressive and he didn’t even bleed on you,” Jack said and I glared at him but when he shot me that devilish grin, I smiled. I was shaking, however, as the adrenaline pumped through my veins. I looked back and could hardly believe what I’d done. The scuzzy biker was still lying there, moaning and but holding his nose with one hand and his crotch with the other.

  “I’ve never done anything like that. I need a drink,” I said. Jack chuckled softy as he pushed himself off the lamp post, turned and offered me his arm.

  “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he joked as I took his arm and we headed to the bar. “You look hot, by the way,” he said as we walked.

  “Yeah? So do you,” I replied grateful for something to take my mind off what I’d done. He didn’t look much different than the last time I saw him. He wore a black t-shirt instead of the leather vest and a red bandana around his head, but other than that it was the same blue jeans and leather boots, the same shoulder length golden hair and scruffy beard, the same penetrating gray eyes.

  “You’re bleeding,” he said. I looked down and sure enough, my knuckle was cut but it wasn’t bad.

  “I’ll probably live,” I said. We reached the bar and pushed our way inside. Hogs and Heifers was probably even more crowded than the last Friday night. A different band was playing, a thrash metal band, but the music was just as loud. We found our way to the bar to get drinks.

  “Whiskey?” Jack asked.

  “Of course,” I said playfully and Jack looked at me curiously. The rush of my encounter with the biker was wearing off and I felt a bit woozy. It would pass and a shot or two wouldn’t hurt. “A beer too,” I added. Jack turned and nodded. I looked around the place as he ordered. I hadn’t noticed all the stuff behind the bar the last time. I guess I was a little overwhelmed. Hundreds of bras hung from the ceiling above the bar and all manner of hats, stickers, signs and patches decorated the wall behind the bottles of liquor. Then I saw my skirt hanging there amongst the bras. I felt rather proud of that.

  “My skirt,” I told Jack when he passed me a shot. Another biker let Jack have his stool and Jack invited me to sit on his knee. I was more than happy to accept sitting with my back to him. He slipped his arm around my waist and rested his hand on my stocking-clad leg. I smelled the whiskey and then tipped it back and relished the burning sensation as it slipped down my throat. Then I let the tiny bit left in the glass drip onto my bloody knuckle. Who knows where that dirty biker had been?

  “Yep, that was quite a night. Too bad you ruined it the next morning,” Jack said. I looked back and frowned but Jack was frowning as well.

  “I won’t ruin tomorrow morning, I swear,” I said. Jack’s hand slipped under my skirt and he caressed my bare mound.

  “So, does that mean I’m your type suddenly?” he asked pointedly taking the fact he found me naked under the skirt in stride. That’s what I’d told him. He wasn’t my type. Hell, I didn’t have a type but if I did it would be Jack. I had no idea where this would go, but sitting there with him in that biker bar, I knew that’s where I wanted to be. Screw what everyone thought or expected of me.

  “You’ll do for now,” I told him playfully. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a full on change of heart. I grabbed the other shot and slammed it. I let it linger on my tongue, enjoying the smoky burn and then swallowed.

  “That’s all I can ask, I suppose. But while you’re tolerating me, I’m going to watch you ride my cock tonight after I fuck your pretty mouth,” he said. A tingle shot through my loins and I stood up and turned to face Jack, straddling his thigh. I squeezed his shaft through his jeans. Oh, that cock of his. Yeah, maybe it was shallow of me but he was big and I liked it. Jack leaned forward and kissed me. I savored his warm lips and his rough beard against my face until he broke the kiss. I exhaled and bit my lip, swooning from his kiss, as we stared into each other’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Jack. You scared me. I wasn’t ready for the feelings you produced. I wanted to be so bad for you and I just didn’t know how to handle that. I worried about what people might think. You forgive me, right?” I told him. He frowned again.

  “So, what changed your mind?” he wondered. Where to start? My transformation was fairly sudden but not entirely uneventful.

  “That’s a long story,” I replied.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. It was so loud though. I had to almost yell just so he could hear me.

  “Dance with me then take me home and I’ll tell you,” I told him leaving the important part unsaid, you know, the part where we had sex. We stood up and he led me to the front of the stage where he slipped his arms around my waist. We slowly swayed to our own rhythm despite the grinding rock music the band pumped out. “So, is it a good story?” he asked. I laughed and smiled being coy and then lay my head on his shoulder. Jack’s hands found my ass and he kneaded my soft flesh as we danced.

  We stayed through a few songs but it wasn’t long before I wanted to go. Sure Hogs and Heifers could be fun but that’s not the kind of fun I was interested in. Jack’s arms around me felt so good, so right. I still barely knew the man but there was something about him. He might have been a bad boy, a rogue, a biker, but he was a good guy in the ways that mattered. I could feel it when he held me and see it in his eyes when he stared into mine.

  But I wondered what he would think of my new friend, Sarah. Would Jack accept her? I accepted Sarah for who she was without a second thought. Of course, I was curious about her and her lifestyle but I never judged. I’m not some amazingly tolerant soul, though I like to think I am accepting of others, I just saw the person beneath Sarah’s makeup and wig and I liked that person. But would Jack? I suspected he would even though most people wouldn’t suspect a biker like Jack would be so open-minded.

  “Can we go?” I asked. Jack grinned down at me knowingly.

  “I’ve wanted to get you alone since I saw you take down the biker outside, doll,” he told me. I liked that he called me doll again. I realized how much I missed it. It was a term of endearment filled with a bit of old fashioned sexism and a lot of feeling. I liked it.

  “I took a cab so I’ll have to ride with you,” I told him, strangely looking forward to another frightening ride on Jack’s old school rat bike.

  “I figured you’d end up riding bitch so I got you something,” Jack told me.

  “Riding what?” I asked. Jack looked at me, not sure what I meant at first but then he understood. Even though I didn’t know what he was talking about, I didn’t miss the gesture. Maybe he was hoping this would all work out as much as I did.

  “That’s what they call riding on the back of a bike,” he explained.

  “Oh, that makes sense...I guess. What if you’re a man?” I wondered. Riding bitch. I kind of liked that for some reason.

  “Men don’t ride on the back, or shouldn’t anyway,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I wondered about Sarah. Would it be acceptable if she rode on the back? I didn’t ask that of Jack, however.

  “What did you get me,” I asked instead but I should have been able to figure it out. Jack offered me his arm and I slipped mine into his as he led me through the crowd and outside. We walked down the sidewalk, then crossed the street and found his bike. He pulled his helmet out of one saddlebag and then pulled my new helmet out of the other.

  “Oh, it’s cute,” I said. Jack screwed up his face at my assessment. “Oh, it’s...um...bad ass,” I corrected and Jack chuckled. It was a helmet like his, a half-helmet, but instead of being all black, mine had a pink, Hello Kitty skull and crossbones on it. It was
cute but in a bad ass sort of way...or something.

  “I saw it and thought of you. You’re cute and kind of wicked,” he said. Then suddenly, Jack grabbed me, pulled me to him and kissed me. I absolutely melted in his arms as his tongue explored my mouth and his hands roamed my backside like he owned me. Then he broke our kiss leaving me weak and tingly all over and then took my helmet and put it on my head helping me fasten the strap under my chin. “We don’t want your pretty head getting smashed,” he said and winked.

  “No, we don’t,” I replied as Jack let me go, donned his own helmet, then climbed on his bike and fired it up. He rolled the throttle back and his old school bike roared and rumbled shaking the pavement beneath my heels. I smiled and climbed on behind Jack. My arms slid around his broad torso and then I whispered, “Scare the hell out me, Jack.”

  He looked back and grinned wickedly a moment before we roared off. I squealed despite myself as Jack roared to the end of the street, turned around, flew past Hogs and Heifers and then turned the wrong way. I didn’t ask where we were going, as if I could have if I’d wanted to. The rush of the wind and the rumble of the bike made that nearly impossible. We were near the interchange between the two major freeways in Las Vegas. I assumed Jack was taking the freeway back to my condo but he went the wrong way again when we got to the freeway.

  I just let him take me wherever it was he wanted. I didn’t care. On the freeway now, Jack really opened up the throttle and we flew down the freeway at what I guessed was ninety miles an hour but was probably more like seventy. We weaved around cars as we went and I squeezed Jack tighter. He was doing what I’d asked. I was scared out of my wits but having a ball. Kind of like a roller coaster, thrilling and frightening at the same time but I could actually die on this ride. Jack stared straight ahead, focusing on the road ahead. Then after several miles, we took an off ramp and stopped at a red light at the cross street.