Kelly was in state of bliss as she hugged Cheryl close around her waist and nuzzled her little botton nose into the crease between the larger, older woman's well developed trapezius muscle and romboids. She had often wondered what it would be like to be this strong, as she had worked on Cheryl on the mssage table. Imagining being a man was beyond her. But, she reasoned, for a big, strong girl like Cheryl, it was not. Cheryl therefore understood men, controlled them, intimidated them—and apparently had a real monster of a man on her invisible leash, a man they were riding to meet, a man who she had seen pictures of, who intrigued her as much as Cheryl's seeming desire to share him.

And then they pulled onto the lot at Andy Nelson's barbecue place in Cockeysville, which was not even open yet, it was so early.

There were four men there, Savage, who was a tall, muscular man in leather, who had that sleek body hair that Cheryl told her was so enjoyable, and which she had never experienced with the boys she had dated. There was also a very muscular, rugged man with a bent nose and an easy, big-jawed smile, whose eyes twinkled dark gray when he looked at her, starting from the feet up, and pausing for quite a while on her face. There was also a tall skinny fellow with a vicious looking little woman on the back of his bike, who simply glared at her with open hatred and unconcealed jealousy. The fourth man was a big, fat, tattooed fellow, nearing fifty, who looked at her with unconcealed lust as Cheryl pulled her off the bike and walked her up to him, saying, "Blue, this is Kelly, our hangaround girl for the weekend. Kelly, meet Blue."

With that Cheryl left her standing there and went to embrace her husband.

She felt small and puny, and began to speak up for herself, but was silenced by the glare Blue gave her as he slowly knifed his big hand into her crotch and ran his other hand over her shoulders, like some farmer checking his livestock. Somethig was aroused in her by the act. But, a larger part of her—the Aunt Sue in her—was repelled and she began to shrink away on the inside and on the outside. That's when the muscular man with the laughing eyes and broken nose slapped Blue on his broad back, and scooped her up in one arm and set her down on the back of his bike, saying to her, "Just sit still, Sweetie," and to the big man's glaring expression, "Me first, you big sweaty bastard."

With that they all started their monstrous bikes and she felt like she was going to pass out or puke, or both, as the world swam around her in a whirl of betrayal and Cheryl's formerly loving eyes turned to ice as she looked right through her, like some great stalking cat that had just gotten a little bird in it's claws—a little bird that knew she couldn't survive in her mind that which had just been aluded to.

She was supposed to have met Savage and to have had a safe, wife-sanctioned fling with her girlfriend's husband, a man who would protect her from other men, a man who had yet to glance at her as he embraced Cheryl, who had callously thrown her to a pack of men who seemed as rude, and not nearly as managemeble, as a pack of dogs. The odd thing was, what frightened her the most, was that the tall skinny man would like her and his nasty little woman would do whatever these kind of women did to pretty young girls that their men took a liking to.

The bike crackled and her back bent over the low bar in the back, causing her to reach out insitinctively for the man's muscular waist, covered as it was in a simple, black cotton sweat shirt, which permitted her fingers to dig in between the abdominal muscles as she held on repellently. Under different circumstances she would have wanted to be with a man like this, maybe even this man, with his twinkling eyes and easy confidence.

The leather vest smelled odd and old and had boldly emblazoned letters across the top that read PAGANS. She did not bother to take in the rest, but simply collapsed her forehead against the cool leather.

As she tried to buck herself up inside the leering smirk on the face of the big fat man named Blue stepped on her budding resolve like Jase's uncaring shoes on her tulip shoots, the ones she planted by the side door that never recovered from her boyfriend's drunken jaunt through her flowerbed.

The roar of the five bikes thundering down the road was thrilling and deadening all at once as the cool morning air on her bare shoulders failed to cool the burning pain of fresh betrayal in her chest.