Page 8 of Ink's Devil

Carefully, I pick my discarded bridesmaid’s dress up off the floor and fold it reverently even though it will have to go for dry cleaning. Mel was thoughtful, letting us choose styles which meant we could get more than one use out of our dresses. Though, when I’ll wear it again, I’m not sure. I’ll treasure it, knowing whenever I see it hanging in my closet it will remind me of the night I took my chances to have sex with a biker. Even if the only result is having made some memories to fuel my time alone with my vibrator.

Pulling on my comfortable jeans and a light sweater, I open the curtains and look out of the window. Last night it had been snowing, but now the weather has warmed, and already the ice is melting. Traffic is moving freely, and as I look out, I hear engines roar and see half a dozen motorcycles heading out.

Is Ink one of the riders?I can’t be sure, they’re too far away and any of them could be him or not.

After I watch them disappear from sight, I continue to put away clothing and cosmetics I’d brought for my overnight stay and check around to make sure I haven’t left anything while musing I’d gotten exactly what I’d come looking for.

Or, had I?

I sit back down on the bed, putting my head in my hands.

In the sober light of day, my rash decision last night doesn’t seem so sensible. Had I been swept away by the emotional environment of Mel’s wedding?

I’d been shocked as hell when my sensible friend had first hooked up with a biker, having heard rumours the Satan’s Devils were criminals and walked on the wrong side of the law. Mel had had the same concerns at first, but she’d taken time to learn about the club. I look up to Mel and respect her views. When she said, far from being into illegal things, they were a band of men who loved the freedom of riding motorcycles and the camaraderie of their club, I’d believed her. That they kept to themselves and lived by their own rules rather than the laws of the state, well, who could blame them as long as they stayed clear of breaking citizen ones.

If Mel saw no problem with her association with the Devils, then who was I to argue? Then I’d seen with my own eyes just how they were when I met both of her boyfriends.

Mel’s first biker was Skull. That had been bad business. I bite my lip as I remember, still feeling guilty for how that had turned out. Skull was so protective of Mel and so demonstrably loving of her, it was hard to believe he had been lying the whole time. But rather than being a criminal, he’d turned out to have been an undercover cop. It was actually his failure to find any evidence of illegal activity that confirmed my view the Satan’s Devils weren’t into that kind of thing. No drug running, no guns, and no prostitution.

Skull had been the epitome of a handsome, caring, strong and protective lover. Despite him being half a foot shorter than myself, I had, briefly, wished his handsome and attentive eyes had fallen on me instead of Mel. But he’d known what he was after, a woman who’d be accepted by the club and who could gather information he hadn’t been able to find out himself. When he’d disappeared and was thought dead, she was left devastated and pregnant. She lost the baby after I had seen Skull very much alive in Vegas.

Pyro stood by Mel when Skull vanished, supported her when he reappeared. They’d grown close and it had come as a surprise to no one when they ended up married.

Two bikers and one woman. I had lived vicariously through her.

I shake my head as I compare my past boyfriends to Mel’s. The men I tend to meet are decidedly boring. Accountants, government workers like myself, and even one disastrous date with a lawyer whose favourite topic was himself. None of them looked at life in the same way as Mel’s men. None of them wereexciting.

Mel tried to protect me from her new family. She didn’t think I could handle a biker of my own. Perhaps she was right, I muse. After last night, it’s hard not to feel used and dirty.

Mel had tried to explain that most of the bikers enjoy their single status, that the club even keeps whores for them to use. It would take a special woman to tempt them away from the life they had chosen and get them to see the merits of being faithful. Had I thought one night with me and then Ink would see me as someone he couldn’t get enough of? Hell, maybe. Doesn’t every woman think she can change a man, when really, I just gave him exactly what he wanted? A chance to get his dick wet.

It’s hard to believe there’s a someone anywhere out there for me.

It’s not self-pity, it’s fact. I’m an introvert hiding in an extrovert’s body. I look confident because of my height. Because I tower over most people, they expect me to take charge, expect me not to be scared, when underneath there’s an insecure woman inside. That’s why I needed alcohol to push me to take what I wanted last night. If I was sober, I’d have waited for a non-existent man to come over. Ink liked my confidence, that I appeared to be a woman who went after what they wanted.

But I’m not her.

He wouldn’t like the real me once he got to know her.

I’ve never known what it was like to feel protected, loved, safe and coveted, but for a moment last night, I had felt like I was.

A dream, that’s all. I give myself a shake. Good while it lasted, but now I have to put it behind me.

I stand. I close the zip on my bag and give the room one last look over. There’s nothing left of me here. As for Ink, the aches and soreness will soon go, and his loving will be a memory I’ll replay on those long, lonely nights.

I’d found myself a biker and enjoyed the experience. Any admission I’d lied when I said that was all I was after will never be spoken out loud.

Mel warned me Ink would take if I offered.

But he’d given as well. I had had the best sex ever. I had found that I enjoyed being bossed around in the bedroom; Ink had been so different from men who politely ask what I need, or worse, and fumble until they get it right. I grin to myself. I hadn’t needed to fake anything. Yes, Ink’s kind of loving was just what I was looking for, but doubted I’d ever find. That’s what I’m missing, that’s why there’s an emptiness inside me. It wasn’t the man, it was the experience itself.

But it hadn’t been just sex.No, there was more, there was easy laughter and joking.

Don’t go there.We fucked, or in his words, Ink gave me his cock several times. That’s all it was.

Picking up my bag I walk to the door.Little girl.My lips curve slightly as his words echo in my head. Little, I’m most certainly not, but for just one night, I enjoyed being ordered around, and being made to feel small and protected.

I want more. I want more with Ink.

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