CULVER: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel (4 page)

“Yeah, well, some of us ain’t all of us, and if Tank says we do it, we do
it,” he said, as though he were reciting lines from a play. He turned back to
us, attempting to smile. It was something of a failure; the concern stayed
etched in his face.

“So, ladies, where to next? You don’t wanna stick around here with these
assholes all night, do you?”

“Actually, I hate to be ‘that girl’, but I’m really getting awfully
tired,” Becky said. I could tell she was being honest, and that she felt bad
about being a buzz-kill. To be honest, I was getting tired, too. The pot had
gone straight to my head and, in conjunction with the more-than-usual amount of
alcohol I’d had, I was finding myself getting pretty sleepy.

“Me too,” Alicia slurred, her eyes half-lidded already. Boon nodded, not
looking disappointed but also not looking happy. I looked at my phone. It was
2am. I was amazed; how had time slipped by so fast? It was definitely time to
get going.

“Okay, girls, a cab?” I said, thinking that none of us would be able to
find our way back to the hotel, and that if I had to walk a whole block in my
heels I’d probably wind up sleeping on the street.

“I’ll call you one,” Boon said, pulling out his phone. After a brief
conversation, he hung up. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Just enough time to pee,” I said, giggling at the way the word “pee”
sounded. It sounded very, very funny to me. I got up, wobbling slightly, and
looked around for the restroom. Boon pointed behind him, and I saw a narrow
corridor with a unisex bathroom sign. It was tucked away in a dark corner, and
I would never have found it on my own.

I smiled at him and made my way towards the bathroom, feeling lightheaded
and giddy. I nearly fell over trying to pull down my panties and sit down, but
I managed to pee and wipe without any disaster befalling me. As I washed my
hands, I looked into the caked-over, cracked mirror. I looked exactly like I
felt: a little tired, a little overwhelmed, a little lust-struck. My make-up
was smudged in a way that I thought looked a lot like a Covergirl ad.
I look hot,
I thought to myself, in
surprise.

I never really thought of myself as being hot or sexy, mostly because I
never really knew what it was like to
want
to look hot or sexy. Because I’d never felt compelled to be sexy for
someone, I just never let it into my radar. But that night, I felt sexy as
hell. I closed my eyes and thought about Boon; a moment of panic took me over
as I realized that this might be the last time I ever saw him, and that we
wouldn’t have a private moment for me to fulfill my goal.

That’s when I heard the knocking on the door. Annoyed at first that
someone would interrupt my private moment, I just sighed and turned off the
taps, shaking my hands dry. I opened the door, ready to slip past whoever was
on the other side, but found myself propelled backwards into the bathroom. The
door slammed shut. Boon was standing in front of me, his eyes now dark and
knowing. I felt my heart beating hard in my chest, my breathing shallow.

“Hi,” he said, that wicked grin back on his face.

“Hi,” I said, blushing and suddenly shy. I didn’t have time to ponder the
situation, though. Before I could blink, I was pinned against the cold tile,
Boon’s lips on mine. His lips were firm but soft, pressing against mine
urgently, and I opened my mouth for him, allowing his tongue to slip between my
lips. His tongue probed my mouth, dancing with my own as my head detached from
my shoulders and drifted off into space.

The kiss was hot, and I felt myself grabbing Boon by the waist, pulling
him towards me. I could feel his hot breath in my mouth and wanted more, wanted
his breath in my lungs, wanted his tongue down my throat, his hands all over my
body.

Even in my intoxicated stupor, I could feel my nerves coming alive as his
mouth slipped off mine and down to my chin, tracing wet, hard kisses along my
jawline and then down my neck. I moaned underneath him, my hands desperately
digging into his waist. His hands found my waist, too, and I shivered as I felt
him clutch my hips, pulling me towards him.

I could feel his hardness through his tight jeans, and was amazed as my
legs parted for him, allowing him to grind me into the wall. His member pressed
against my panties, and I felt a thrill down there as my virgin pussy got wet
for the first time. I didn’t even really know it was happening: all I knew was
that Boon was making all the hair on my body stand on end as he nibbled my
earlobes.

Just as suddenly as it began, it was over. Boon pulled away, leaving me
panting against the bathroom wall. He grinned at me, that grin that would be my
undoing. Then, he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

I lingered in the bathroom, catching my breath.
What
had just happened? How had I gone from never having a kiss
that meant anything to wanting to strip down and fuck a perfect stranger in the
bathroom of a biker bar? I didn’t care; in that moment, I didn’t care about a
damn thing. I just wanted more.

~
7
~

To their undying credit, Becky and Alicia were fairly civil about what
had so obviously transpired until we were in the cab and the bar was far behind
us. After that, though, it was all-out girl talk.

“How was it?”

“Was it AMAZING?”

“Oh my God, he is SO HOT!”

“See, boys really ARE fun!”

“Tell us everything, you whore!”

Becky and Alicia’s excited shrills mixed together in an incoherent mess
as I stared out the window, watching the bright lights grow nearer as we got
closer to the main strip. I wanted to tell them how it was, but I didn’t know
how. Also, I didn’t know how to tell them what I
really
wanted now that I’d had a taste.

“It was…I mean, guys…it was life-changing,” I finally said, looking over
at my friends. Alicia was still glassy-eyed, her head lolling back on the seat,
but Becky was fairly together and she must have seen something in my eyes that
gave her cause for concern.

“Life-changing? Okay, I’m sure it was hot, girl, but life-changing?
That’s a little much, isn’t it?”

“Um, well, I don’t know, Beck. I’ve never felt so…hot! Like, I never got
it…until tonight…damn,” I said, losing myself in the warm memory of Boon’s
kiss.

“Well, I’m glad you got it out of your system,” Becky said, her tone
sharp. The thing about best friends is that they always know what you’re
thinking, sometimes even before you do. And Becky knew that I was thinking
about more than just kissing Boon. I was thinking about doing a lot more with
him.

“Did you get his number?” Alicia asked, rolling her head to face me. I
suddenly realized that I hadn’t: despair gripped me as I realized that without
a number, or even a last name, I would probably never see Boon again. I groaned
and slunk down in my seat.

“Oh, it’s for the better, Samantha. He was fun for a make-out, but that
guy was no good. You saw his friends, where he took us. You would really regret
it if you…uh…let yourself get carried away with a boy like that,” Becky said,
always the voice of (irritating) reason. I felt annoyance flash through me, but
it was quickly replaced by more disappointment.

On the one hand, I knew Becky was right. On the other hand, I knew she
was dead wrong. I wouldn’t regret it. I would love every moment of it. Even if
I never saw him after…sure, that would probably hurt, but at least I’d have it
out of my system. This throbbing, raw desire would be gone – or at least
lessened.

I couldn’t believe I was actually thinking about giving up my virginity
to someone I just met, but that’s how crazy that kiss left me feeling. It was
like Sleeping Beauty being woken up by her Prince Charming. Except my Prince
Charming was covered in tattoos and bad news.

The cab pulled up to the hotel and we piled out, three messes on a late
night in Vegas. We were mostly silent as we rode up to the room and took to our
separate beds; we were all exhausted, drunk, and two of us were stoned. I
expected to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, but no luck.

I tossed and turned for what felt like hours (but was probably, in
retrospect, about thirty minutes). I couldn’t stop thinking about the ache I
felt down there, the unfulfilled need that seemed to fill my body like water
fills a vase.

Morning came and I groaned into the sunlight, head squeezed like a monkey
wrench, stomach turning, mouth as dry as the Nevada desert. Hearing my own
groan echoing throughout the hotel room, I knew that the girls felt at least as
bad as I did. This time, we really would need those Bloody Marys.

“We’re three for three with four days to go,” Alicia said as we lounged
around on the lavish couches in our hotel room, picking at the leftovers from
breakfast and slurping down hair-of-the-dog. I was feeling much better now, the
hangover dulled to a mild discomfort. “Should we pick new goals?”

“Ugh, we should pick a time to nap,” Becky said, surprisingly the
worst-off in terms of hangovers, even though she’d had less to drink than
Alicia and I.

“Okay, after the nap. Me? I’m going to…um…go to a strip club!” Alicia
nearly fell off the couch shouting. Becky and I rolled our eyes. A strip club?
Dream on, Alicia.

“If you think that we’re going to accompany you to a gentleman’s club…”
Becky said, her voice sharp.

“Whatever, Beck. You don’t have to come with me,” Alicia said, a tad
irritated herself. I saw the growing tension between them and decided to nip it
in the bud. Even best friends fight, but I didn’t want anything to ruin our
trip.

“I’ll go with you, Leesh. And I’ll do whatever you want to do, too,
Beck,” I said, wanting to be the great compromiser.

“Whatever,” Becky said. “As long as we still go on that hike tomorrow.”

“Um, duh. We have to take
some
photos
that we can actually show our parents,” Alicia said with a laugh. Even Becky
grinned at that one.

“So…hike. Strip club. Sammy? What’s your new goal?” Alicia looked at me
with genuine curiosity, as well as a twinkle in her eye. I threw her a dirty
look.

“NOT whatever you’re thinking, Alicia. I don’t know. Give me some time to
think,” I said, knowing full well what I really wanted to do. Find Boon. And
see what else he could open me up to…

I must have gone off to la-la land, and had it written all over my face,
because Alicia threw a pillow at me and squealed.

“YOU’RE gonna lose your V-CARD to that BOY!”

She’s small, and she acts ditzy, but you can’t hide a damn thing from
that girl.

~
8
~

That
night, despite my still-unbelievable desire to find Boon, I agreed to stay in
and watch movies, so that we could be up bright and early for our hike. I was
still trying to hide my true feelings from my friends, and it was the hardest
thing I’ve ever done in my life. Probably, still, to this day, it’s one of the
hardest things I’ve ever done. Harder than anything that would come next.

It’s
not even like I thought they would judge me: I knew for a fact that Alicia
would encourage me, and that Becky wouldn’t judge me no matter what I did. It
was more like I was worried that by admitting it to them, I would be admitting
it to myself. It was easy to consider it a girlish fantasy, a passing fancy, a
fleeting moment, when I lied to myself. It would be harder if I actually had to
vocalize my feelings to my friends, had to tell them the absolute truth.

Because
I couldn’t lie to them. I could keep silent about something, but I couldn’t
outright lie to them. That’s why, I guess, I didn’t tell them where I really
went when I “went out for air” that night.

But
I know they knew.

~
9
~

It
was around ten, and I’d sat patiently through one whole chick flick (Becky’s
choice) and one B-grade horror movie (Alicia’s favorite genre) without picking
up the plot of either. I was a little distracted; I spent half the time
worrying about “sneaking out” for the night and the other half trying to figure
out where I would even start looking for Boon in the wild city.

I
couldn’t, for the life of me, remember the name of the second bar we’d gone to,
but the bar where we met was right next to our hotel. Telling Alicia and Becky
that I was just going to walk around for an hour or so, and trying to avoid
their knowing glances, I put on a pair of shorts and a simple tank top and
slipped out into the hall, a pad of paper and pen in my pocket.

I
figured I’d start at the beginning, and pushed my way through a crowd of
smokers outside the bar where Boon and I had met. Scanning the room, I quickly
confirmed that he wasn’t there. I didn’t bother checking the dance floor;
something told me that Boon wouldn’t be caught dead with a girl twerking
against him.

I
shimmied my way through the crowd to the bar, looking for a familiar face
amongst the bartenders. Finally, I noticed that one of the bartenders was the
same one from the night before, the one who had made me Boon’s “awful” Seven
and Seven. I waited for about two minutes before the bartender approached me.

“What’ll
it be, princess?”

“I’m
actually not drinking tonight, I’m looking for someone,” I said, noting the way
the bartender rolled his eyes.

“Everyone’s
looking for someone, sweetheart,” he said, turning away. I reached over the bar
and grabbed his sleeve. He was my first and, possibly, only chance to find
Boon, or at least get a message to him.

“Wait,
please. You might remember me,” I said, hearing the desperation in my voice.
The bartender heard it too, apparently, because he sighed and leaned against
the bar, looking at me.

“I
see a lot of pretty girls every night,” he said, a sympathetic smile on his
face.

“Well,
I ordered a Seven and Seven for a man. He had tattoos, blue eyes, blonde hair.
He ordered one for himself right after. And my friends and I were all drinking
those fishbowl drinks,” I said, racking my brain for anything that might jog
his memory. “My little red-haired friend was really drunk?”

“Oh,”
said the bartender, his face lighting up as he remembered. I felt my heart
leap. “That’s right. You’re the big tipper with the bad fake ID.”

He
was smiling now, and I smiled back, sheepishly.

“Well,
I appreciate you serving us, anyway. But, have you ever seen that guy before?
Or since?” The bartender’s brow furrowed slightly, though the amused look
remained on his face.

“Now,
I can’t say, I don’t notice guys as much as I do gals. But I’ll tell you what,
if I see him tonight, I’ll let him know there’s a pretty blonde looking for
him. How’s that?”

“That
would be great. Except, would it be too much, do you think, can I give you a
note to give him if you see him? It’s just, he doesn’t know my number or
anything, and…”

“Sure,
sure, whatever. It’ll end up in his hands, or in the trash if I don’t see him.
Hurry up, though, I’ll be skinned if I waste any more time with a customer who
isn’t paying.”

I
hurriedly pulled the pad and pen from my back pocket and scribbled my name and
number on it. Hesitating for a moment, I decided that I was already being
pretty ballsy, and that there couldn’t be any harm in being a little ballsier.
I want more,
I wrote in neat script
above my number. With my heart jumping all over the place, I tore off the sheet
of paper, folded it, and handed it to the bartender, blushing like crazy. The
bartender started to unfold the paper.

“No!”
I said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. “Please don’t read it.” He gave me
another amused look and nodded, slipping the paper into his pocket.

“Well,
I sure hope I see him. I’d hate to think of a poor fellow missing out on
whatever it is your offering,” he said, starting to walk away. “Just stay away
from the chapels, honey. You’re not too young to remember Britney Spears, are
you?”

I
didn’t have a chance to answer him as he turned to the next closest customer,
but my blush didn’t go away. I stood at the bar, stupidly, for another minute,
wondering what came next. I could try to find the bar he had taken us to, but I
knew that it would be a miracle if I could remember even one side-street we’d
turned down. I could just walk up and down the strip, checking every bar in
sight. That seemed the only option; I still had 45 minutes before the girls
were expecting me back.

So
that’s what I did. I’ll tell you something, too. If you ever really want to see
what Vegas is like, walk from bar to bar, totally sober. You’ll never see or
hear such mayhem in such a short amount of time. It was like walking through a
kaleidoscope. From gambling floors to dance floors to exclusive-looking clubs,
everything just comes at you in flashes of light and sound. It’s pretty crazy.

But
bar after bar, no sight of Boon. And it wasn’t much use asking the bartenders;
they were all either busy as hell or had no patience for my admittedly vague
description: tattoos, blue eyes, blonde hair. I might as well have been asking
for a girl with brown hair and pierced ears.

Finally,
the hour was up and I was disheartened and tired and hopeless. It wasn’t
happening.
Maybe it wasn’t supposed to
happen,
I thought, reminding myself that the whole plan was pretty crazy.
Track down a stranger I made out with once and ask him to take my virginity?
That really
was
Britney Spears-level
crazy.

I
clomped up to the hotel room and found Alicia and Becky were passed out on the
couch, an old TV show playing softly. I switched the TV off and covered the
girls in blankets before taking to my own bed. I lay there for a long time,
tossing and turning, thinking about Boon and trying to figure out what it was
about him that was so irresistible to me.

At
around 1am, I still hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, and when my phone buzzed I
assumed it was one of my friends from home sending a drunk text. My heart
stopped entirely when I saw an unknown number on the screen.

Tag, you’re it,
the text read. I nearly fell
out of bed, I was so excited. My heart started beating again with a vengeance,
pounding in my chest. There was a picture attached to the text: it looked like
the Vegas skyline, taken from above. I racked my brain to see if I could
recognize the angle or view from any of the little amount of sightseeing we had
done. Coming up blank, I pulled on my shorts and tank-top again, grabbing my
wallet as well, and slipped out the front door.

In
the lobby, I marched right to the concierge desk. It was late, but there were
still lots of people milling around, and the concierge looked bright-eyed and
eager to help.

“Do
you know where this could have been taken? Sorry, I know it’s weird, but….” I
started to say, handing my phone to the concierge, who took it with interest.
He adjusted his glasses and stared at the screen.

“There
are no weird requests in Vegas,” he said, smiling broadly and handing me back
the phone. “That photo would have to have been taken from The Mix Lounge at Mandalay
Bay. Shall I call you a cab, ma’am?”

“Yes!
Please! Tell them to hurry!” I said, ecstatic. This had to be it. It had to be
him. He would be there. And at least I’d have a chance to see him one more
time, sober, before never seeing him again. I was being impulsive, and probably
acting recklessly, but I didn’t care. If I saw him and still felt that magnetic
attraction, I would go for it. If I saw him and it didn’t do anything for me,
so be it. I just wanted to do it, take the risk, walk the tightrope without the
net.

I
pulled a ten from my wallet and handed it to the concierge as he called a cab;
he grinned at me and took it suavely, hanging up the phone.

“Shouldn’t
be more than five minutes, ma’am,” he said. “Would you like to have a seat
while you wait?”

“No,
no, I’ll go outside, I don’t think I could sit still,” I said with a giggle, my
giddiness showing. The concierge smiled knowingly and nodded.

“Best
of luck, ma’am,” he called out after me as I hustled outside. Once on the
sidewalk, I could hardly keep still. I wanted to pace back and forth but
realized that would look crazy. My mind raced with a million thoughts as I
waited. I wanted to text Boon back, but I also wanted to take him by surprise.
Part of me was horribly anxious that he would leave before I managed to get
there; the other part wanted to keep this as mysterious and exciting as
possible, and that anxiety was just adding to the rush.

A
cab pulled up and I nearly broke my ankle jumping to grab it.

“Are
you the lady going to Mandalay Bay?” the driver asked gruffly.

“Yes,
please, and fast!” I said, my voice cracking as my emotions ran higher and
higher. The cab pulled away and the driver began to make his way down the
strip, far too slowly for my addled mind but as fast as he could possibly go in
the traffic. I fidgeted as I looked out the window, wondering if I could have
walked it faster.

For
the first time, I wondered if it wasn’t Boon who’d texted me, after all. Maybe
it was the bartender from the bar, just getting off his shift, planning to try
his hand at wooing me. Or maybe it was someone else, someone that the bartender
had mistaken for Boon. Maybe it would be Boon, but it would just be a joke. My
nervousness grew as the cab moved slowly down the long, brightly-lit street.

“Someone
waiting for you?” the driver asked, pulling me out of my frenzied thoughts.

“I
hope so,” I said, smiling at him in the rear-view mirror.

“Well,
if they leave before you get there, they’ll surely be kicking themselves for
it,” the driver said, pulling a sudden turn and slowing down in front of a
huge, lavish building.

I
could give you every last detail of my trip through the lobby, to the elevator,
up to the bar. My nerves were so on edge that I think I devoted every vase and
painting to memory. But, of course, that wouldn’t be very interesting for you.
Suffice to say, I was impressed, and I was impressed that Boon would want to
meet me there. It showed…class.

Especially
when I got to the Mix Lounge, which was a multi-colored fantasyland, with views
of the strip that dazzled the eye and gave you pretty bad vertigo at the same
time. It was dark, and I panicked for a moment, worried about finding Boon in
the crowd. But I needn’t have worried; as I began to slowly inch my way around
the room, walking along the windows, I felt someone tug on my shirt.

My
palms immediately began to sweat as I turned. And there he was. Handsome and
dangerous and smiling. Dirty and cool and bright-eyed. I saw his lips first, I
think, and spent a long second remembering last night’s kiss, the memory
turning my legs to Jell-o. My eyes traveled up to meet his. It was still there.
The uncontrollable, immediate, surprising, animalistic craving that took me
entirely by surprise.

“Hello,”
he said, his voice deep and warm. I melted.

“Hi,”
I managed to say, aware of a crimson blush lighting up my face.

“You
found me. Drink?” I shook my head; I desperately wanted a drink, something to
take some of my anxiety away, but I also wanted to remain in control, totally
aware. I didn’t want to make a mistake that could be chalked up to alcohol. If
I was going to make a mistake, I wanted it to be entirely my own.

“Come,”
he said, grabbing my hand and leading me towards a darkened corner where there
were some empty seats. His grip on my hand was strong, forceful, and I found
myself pulled along like a rag doll. My hand was wet from sweat and I was
embarrassed, but I also thrilled at the chance to feel his rough, calloused
fingers against my own. I imagined what they would feel like on my body,
tracing my sides…

I
could barely breathe when we sat down, and bit my lip. Boon took a long, slow
sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine.

“So,”
he said at last, putting the drink down and looking at me critically, as though
he were studying me. “How can I help you?”