Fearless Curves (2 page)

“Whatever you say, Brandy,” he replied. I took a seat across the desk and took out his file. I asked him to explain the incident that brought him to us.

“Some cop with a stick up his ass pulled me over. Said my blinker wasn’t working. I had my 1911 with me. I’d been at the range practicing. It’s legal and all,” he told me.

“A 1911? That’s the handgun?” I asked.

“Yeah, a .45 caliber semi-auto. Anyway, he assumes I’m some kind of criminal and searches the bike. Finds the gun and charges me with carrying a concealed weapon. That’s bullshit. I was carrying it legal,” he said.

“You didn’t consent to a search?” I clarified.

“Fuck no! I got nothing to hide but he had no probable cause to search and I wouldn’t give it to him even if he asked. None of his damned business. He thinks because I look a certain way, that’s enough. Fuck him,” Jack told me, his anger and frustration coming out but not directed at me.

“Well, you’re right. That’s not enough. I think I can get this thrown out next week. You don’t even need to be there and honestly, it’s better if you weren’t,” I replied.

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Look, I’m not judging but you...um...,” I began to say.

“I get it, doll. I look like a dirt bag and I might offend the judge’s delicate sensibilities,” he said finishing my thought though I wouldn’t have put it exactly like that.

“Look, Judge Sullivan is uptight. Let’s not give her a chance to make assumptions like that cop did. Chances are he won’t be there to counter my arguments and the prosecutor won’t have any hard evidence to challenge me. I’ll call you after and let you know what happened,” I said and then at the last moment added, “And you’re not a dirt bag.”

“Thanks, doll. You’re a saint. You sure you don’t want to go out with me and get fucked up?” he asked me. I felt bad for Jack. He was getting a raw deal. Didn’t matter what he was really doing with the gun, the cop didn’t have the right search him. But, it wasn’t pity. It was professional. I was a lawyer and though I wasn’t always thrilled with the people Vic represented, I didn’t like seeing anyone get railroaded. Especially when it was just because of the way they looked.

I knew how that felt. I wasn’t ashamed of my body or the way I looked but plenty of people made assumptions about a big girl like me. I was lazy or lacked self-control, I was out of shape or ate like a pig, I was a loser. I wasn’t any of those things. I worked hard at my job and I took care of myself. So I wasn’t born slim and svelte. That didn’t mean I wasn’t in shape and it definitely didn’t mean I was a loser. So, I could identify with Jack. That didn’t mean I was going to go out with him and get fucked up as he put it.

“Gee, your quite the charmer but I’m meeting friends tonight,” I lied forgetting I’d already lied.

“I thought you had a date, Brandy?” Jack challenged me. Damn! That’s why I didn’t lie. I was horrible at it.

“Uh...that’s what I meant. I have a date with friends,” I said in hopes he’d buy it.

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. I’m a big boy. You don’t need to lie to me,” he said. He knew what I was about and it was a bit disconcerting.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want to...look, you’re not my type,” I replied deciding to be honest but gentle.

“How do you know if you don’t take me for a test ride,” Jack replied as that grin crossed his face again. He clearly intended the double meaning. Suddenly, I felt warm.

“Um...no. I think we need to keep this relationship all business,” I replied.

“So, were in a relationship? That’s a start. But one thing has been eating at me. Are those pantyhose or are you wearing stockings,” Jake asked and I know I blushed at that. I had the sudden urge to cover up, my conservative outfit feeling even less so suddenly. Why would he even ask that?

“None of your business, Mr. Anker,” I replied, my voice trembling.

“Ouch! Stop it with the mister crap, doll. I’m not a gentleman, I’m not respectable and I don’t treat women like ladies,” he told me and winked suggestively. I realized I wasn’t breathing any longer and exhaled finally. Why did that make me feel so aroused? I had no idea but I couldn’t help but ask the obvious question.

“What do you treat women like?” I wondered trying to sound a bit judgmental but failing miserably and sounding curious, which I was. Jack pulled his feet from my desk, set them on the floor and leaned forward. His gray eyes narrowed even further as he stared into mine.

“Why don’t you let me show you? Let me bring out the bad girl inside, Brandy,” he offered suggestively. Oh my!

“I...I don’t have a bad girl inside,” I told him laughing as if the idea was ridiculous. He scoffed at that.

“Every woman has a dark side. A temptress, a bad girl, a whore longing to get out and stretch her legs...or spread them,” he said. I went absolutely red at that, my whole body warming up, my inner thighs feeling prickly from the moist heat. I didn’t know what to say to this man. Nobody had ever talked to me like that and I was sure when I found a man that did, I’d slap him across the face and walk away. Instead, dirty thoughts flashed through my mind. Wicked, naughty things that a girl should only think of in the dark by herself so no one would discover her secret desires.

“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. Frightened 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?