Riders - the road to ruin (i)

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RIDERSThe Road To Ruin (I)

K.M.LissRIDERSThe Road ToRuin (I)

By Katrina Liss

Copyright 2015K.M.Liss

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebookmay not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would liketo share this book with another person, please purchase anadditional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book anddid not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only,then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

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This book is sold subject toconditions that it cannot by way of trade be lent, resold, hiredout or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent, inany form or cover, other than which it is published.

Disclaimer: This novel is a work offiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, whileat times based on real figures, are purely the work of the author’simagination.

 

Thanks &Acknowledgements

 

Love and thanks to my family andfriends, for believing in me and encouraging me to write my littleheart out.

 

 

Chapter One

 

It was Friday night in Olson, Kansas, andRiders bar was packed.

The customers were stacking up and I wasstruggling to keep pace, I hadn't built up speed on the job yet. Ikept a smile plastered firmly on my face, and did my best tocope.

“Stop smiling at everyone like a goddamidiot and get a move on, girl, we're fuckin' busy,” Mickeysaid.

“I could do with some help to be honest,” Iadmitted.

He tutted. Mickey tutted a lot.

“Kells,”he calledto across to Kelly, who was meeting and greeting at the door, andher head swiveled toward him, “need you on the bar,sweetheart.”

She gave him her usual simper of a smile andwrithed her way through the crowd to the bar. I was quite sure theywere more than just friends. The way they spoke and looked at eachother was a dead giveaway.

Mickey was glowering at me, as if being new,slow and inexperienced was a terrible sin, but I smiled brightly athim. I felt that was the best option at that moment, because Ireally wanted to slap his face.

To add insult to injury he goosed my ass ashe passed behind me. The guy really was a disgustingchauvinisticasshole.

I stood there angry but silent, trying notto react to his rough grope, and sadly realizing I was getting fartoo used to accepting it.

“Smiling makes the world go round, happystaff equals happy customers,” I pointed out, trying to hide myanger, while smiling at the cute guy opposite me, passing him hischange.

“You can keep them happyafterclosing time, earn yourself some big tips, like the othergirls.”

Not only was Mickey a lecherous bastard, hewas a pimp as well. And unfortunately the long haired bikergrease-ball was my boss.

I scowled at him, ignoring his filthyremark. He'd been dropping strong hints I should turn tricks, sincethe second I'd arrived.

Yeah... like that was gonna happen. Over mydead body.

But Mickey Green's prostitution racketaside, the pay was good. I was prepared to put up with the shitgoing on around me to get the cash. Besides, I was only here forten weekends while I was on vacation from Kansas State Universityfor the summer.

I'd just finished my second year at K-State,studying Law. This year had been such hard going. I wasn't sure ifI was cut out to be a lawyer, if I was honest with myself. But I'dsee how it panned out. Give it my very best shot. I wasn't aquitter.

I wanted to be successful, to have arespectable well paid career, and becoming a lawyer was anintellectual and glamorous way to earn money.

I wouldn't need to depend on a man foranything. That was so important to me after all that had happenedto my mom.

Her situation had taught me a big lesson inlife. She wasn't particularly academically minded and she'd notbeen encouraged much by my Gran, or her teachers at school.She openly admitted she hadn't tried too hard ather studies. She'd been far too interested in other things.Basically hanging out with boys.As a result of her lack ofqualifications, she'd never had a good job, relying on waitressingor bar work. That was where she met her mistakes.

Carl, my dad had been her first mistake.She'd been just eighteen when she met him, and nineteen when shegave birth to me. At twenty, a few weeks after they'd finally gottheir own place, he just upped and left town without a word. Mysister Philipa's dad, Artie, was a complete womanizer and after twoyears screwing Mom around he moved on to a rich widow. Her lastlove David, stayed for four years before he left us high and dry,having drained the little cash we had with his drinking habit.

She'd been far too dependent on men tosupport her and they'd walked all over her and let her down.

She was broken hearted, broken in spirit,crushed and ruined. It upset me so much when I thought of it. Atthirty eight she was still very beautiful but so lonely andmistrustful. She never went out with men anymore. She said shedidn't have the emotional energy to cope with any moredisappointment.

No man was gonna ruin me. I was driven bywhat was in my head, and definitely not by my heart. I wasextremely guarded, suspicious of men and cautious about letting anyguy get close. Apart from Johnny. He'd found a way in via the backdoor. He started out as a friend. We may have slept together, aftera drunken night at campus party, but that had been a big let down.It was clear, after a few weeks, that we weren't destined to betogether that way.

A sea of faces appeared before me as Irushed around serving bottles of beer, soda, wine and spirits.

It started to quieten down a little afternine, as the drinking pace slowed and the lightweight drinkersdrifted off. It was still pretty full, mainly with guys, and onegroup of girls who were having a rowdy party in a booth.

“Go have a five minute break,” Mickey said,sending me off to the restrooms, with a squeeze of my backside.

He was such a sweet and generous boss.Not.

I nipped in and out of the restroom quickly.Having missed dinner, I was hungry, so I sneaked into the kitchento eat the sugar covered donut I'd brought with me. We weren'tallowed to eat in the bar; it was a liquid environment only. Mickeywas very strict about rules.

No time-wasting. No girl chat. No phonecalls. No food. No drinking alcohol. No chewing gum. No suckingmints.

No breathing maybe...?

Starving, I stuffed the donut in my mouthgreedily, the sugar coating spread just about everywhere round mylips. I ran a glass of water to wash down the dough, which wasstuck in my throat.

I leaned against the counter as I drank,licking my sugary lips, gazing around.

My friend Julia worked in the kitchen.During the day the bar was a diner and she was the chef'sassistant. Julia was the one who got me the job. She knew they werelooking for a waitress, and I'd been a waitress in Manhattan, upuntil a month ago, when the restaurant I'd worked for closeddown.

I turned up for the interview with Mickey,but he immediately told me the diner waitress position was filled,and offered me a job bartending and cocktail waitressing instead. Iwas very pleased as he described it as a much better one; betterpay, and the opportunity to make a lot more in tips.

Little did I know what he was grooming mefor.

I snorted in disgust.

Not the kind of tips I wanted to earn.

There was no way was I going to get involvedin what went on in the back rooms; the rooms where the looser ofMickey's bar girls earned a lot of extra tips by sharing intimatebody parts with guys.

Still, a job was a job. It was just a shameI didn't get to work alongside Julia. I was looking forward tothat. I couldn't say I was too keen on many of the girls I workedwith in the bar. I liked Sally, the cleaner, and particularly newlywed Jessica, who tended bar. I'd spent a while chatting with her inthe restroom. But the other half a dozen were either bitches or awhole load of immorality. Not the kinda girls I wanted to associatetoo closely with.

 

Chapter Two

 

The low rumble of motorcycles shook throughthe building like an earthquake. Their glaring lights moved pastthe windows, then died.

Excitement grew inside me as the silence ofanticipation descended on the bar. I served someone with a round ofvodka shots when the door flung open and there they were.

The Riders.

A bunch of guys after whom the bar wasnamed. They were Mill Creek Ranch hands who rode real horses on theranch for a living, and packed some serious metal horsepower on theroad.

A tough bunch of guys if there ever was one.Apparently, from what I'd heard from Julia, one of them usuallyended up in jail on a Friday or Saturday for some reason oranother.

Christie, Cherry and Lola descended on thefour of them as they arrived. The girls sounded like squealingstuck pigs, as they competed with each other, covering them withkisses and draping arms everywhere. The men moved through thethrong, shaking off their female entourage, as they headed forthings of more pressing importance... a drink at the bar.

Joshua Lyle, the head honcho and no-goodson-of-a-bitch, stood before me.

He was the hottest, sexiest, mostself-assured piece of attitude on the planet.

He could well have the words 'come hither,and thou shalt be burned' tattooed on his dick.

I may be inexperienced with men, but I knewhis type. Bad news. The type my mom had made mistakes with. Sheopenly admitted she went for the wrong sort. She was drawn to looksand bad attitude and here was a prime example of it.

His swept back brown hair spoke to femalefingers, calling out to them to grab it; his wicked hazel eyesstole a girl's soul, and he had the kind of lips you'd want todevour from dusk till dawn.

“Eight beers, sweetheart.” His deep voicerumbled through me like thunder. “Mickey put that on my tab willya, pal,” he called across to Mickey who raised a thumb inacknowledgment.

“Okay... there you go,” I muttered,as I grabbed the bottles from the cooler and popped the lids,lining them up on the bar. He passed the other three guys twoeach.

He leaned over the bar, on his forearms,cocked his head and slowly fucked me with his eyes.

It was a lazy look thatsaid,you don't wanna know the kind of things I'd like todo to you.

I bristled with indignation and annoyance,while I burned beneath his gaze.

He smiled widely, flashing his perfect whiteteeth.

“So...you're new to Olson, I guess?” heasked.

“I don't live here. I live in Preston,” Iexplained politely, trying to keep my smile cool.

Preston was the town next door, seven milesaway.

“What's your name, girl?”

“Tiffany.”

“Tiffany... pretty name.”

“What's yours, boy,” I addressed him in thesame lowly manner as he'd addressed me and pretended I didn't knowhis name or that his pop owned half the town, and the surroundingzillion acres of farmland. Not to mention the bar I was standingin.

“Joshua, call me Josh.”

“Oh, can I?” I wasn't sure if my sarcasm waslost on him, but he did raise an eyebrow,

His eyes continued to roam very openly overmy scantily dressed body.

The baruniformMickey made us all wear didn't cover too much skin. I hesitated tocall it a uniform. Underwear would have been a more aptdescription. It consisted of low cut black satin hotpants,monogrammed on the back pocket with a silver R, and a stretchyrhinestone-studded cropped black vest. I'd completed the briefensemble with black over the knee socks and my black conversetrainers. With my long blonde hair secured in a high pony tail andbubblegum pink lipstick, I thought I'd managed to achieve a naughtycheerleader look, rather than than the intended biker tart.

Mickey had insisted I try on the microhotpants at myinterview,explaining thatI needed to have the right sized ass for the job. He then proceededto have a hands on feel of my female assets, to ensure I wasn'tcarrying too much padding up top. That had stunned me into enragedsilence, but the heavy slap to the rear shocked the hell out of me.I'd been unable to keep silent any longer.

“Do you mind?” I'd snapped athim.

“I can't say I do...no...” he sniggered,dirtily, “when can you start, sweetheart?”

He'd served up his sexual harassment with anon the spot job offer. And he hadn't even looked at my resume.Warning bells rang loudly in my ears at that point, but I neededthe job.

Not that Mickey really bothered me thatmuch; he was just a pain in the ass, and a creepy, dirty jerk-off;I could handle him. He didn't cause me to lose much sleep.

I smiled at Joshua, briefly, telling myselfsternly that he was not as smoking hot as heseemed and definitely not the most gorgeous guy I'd everencountered. But my eyes knew I was lying. They kept straying hisway to get a bigger visual fix.

I was pretty sure Joshua Lyle wouldn't everneed to pay for extras. He'd get any girl he wanted for free.Especially here, where his pop owned the bar business that Mickeymanaged.

As I looked at Joshua, I couldn't stop theflashback of the previous weekend.

Somehow, my erotic man fantasy had left myhead, and had become real life flesh and blood.

The minute he'd arrived through the door,Jessica had nudged me, as I stood in staring adoration.

“Don't ever go there, okay?” she'd whisperedin my ear.

“Why not?” I'd asked, idly fishing forinformation. I wasn't intending to go there. I had no problemlooking and fantasizing though.

“He's a heartbreaker through and through.Christie's been hot on his tail for the past two years...practically throws herself at him... but she'll never tie him down,you can tell, he's just not interested in that kind of thing.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” I smiled.

“The Lyles are like royalty roundhere...”

She went on to explain who he was, with agood amount of detail, and I lapped up the words with greatinterest.

Joshua and three of the other Rider guys satdown in a booth, receiving table service.

I'd been looking his way, unable to stopstaring.

As I watched him through the evening, it hadseemed as if all my senses were on high alert, absorbing hismovements, his smile, the sound of his voice and his deep andfilthy laughter.

My man fantasy had lounged lazily in thebooth, swigging his beer and swinging his knee around. His ultrapale ripped jeans and Guns 'n Roses T shirt hit my spot. As did theunkempt brown hair and the can't-be-fucked half-laced boots on theend of his long legs.

He really had made me drool. Sweet heaven,he was way too hot.

Christie, had been their 'cocktailwaitress', Mickey's tarted-up term for the a beer girl, who waitedon the booths. She'd interrupted my erotic study, deliveringanother tray of beer to the guys. By this stage they were well onthe way to drinking themselves stupid.

She'd wrapped her arm around his neck andgiven him an enthusiastic kiss on the mouth. He'd pushed her awaygood-naturedly, with a pat on her black satin ass.

I hadn't quite believed it when she bobbeddown, and very discretely slipped under the table, maneuveringbetween his legs. I had to hand it to him, his facial expressiongave nothing away, as to what was going on. Although he had slammedhis bottle of beer down very hard at one point, just a minutebefore Christie re-emerged. As she'd hugged him, before shewandered off, it had all seemed rather sad. She must have been sodesperate for his attention, to do that kind of thing in thebar.

But despite that, inexplicably, I'd wantedto lick his half laced boots for his cool handling of thesituation.

I brought myself out of that heated memoryand picked up a cloth, starting to dry some washed glasses. Thiswas a constant chore which went on all evening.

“Hey... Tiffany,” I looked up, and his warmeyes twinkled at me. “Need a ride home?”

“It's okay, I have transport, thank you,” Irefused politely, but I couldn't help but imagine being pressed uptight against his sexy back on his hot Harley... my arms around hiswaist... all that high ranking horsepower vibrating and throbbingbeneath us.

I had my own bike... not a great sexmachine, like his V-Rod... but it got me around in reasonablestyle. It was the cheapest way to travel between home, college andwork.

“Maybe another time, huh?” His eyes heldmine as he took a sip of his beer.

“Yeah, thanks for the offer anyway. ”

At that point our conversation ended, as oneof the pole dancers climbed on the bar to a round of loudcheers.

The volume of music was ramped up and I tookadvantage of another short breather.

I gazed around the packed bar. It had a lotof atmosphere.

It was nicely done out. Tasteful. Which wasquite amazing as Mickey was anything but.

A monochrome color scheme set the tone.Large framed posters and photographs of Harleys hung on the palegrey walls, together with a faded out Hell's Angels denim vest andsome shiny bike parts. The glass in the windows had been paintedwith some neat biker scenes in silhouette.

I wiped the bar down. The black granitebar-top looked expensive, and the silver pumps shined with theregular polish they received.

It was a pretty cool working space, not aseedy dive bar. From the superficial aspect anyway.

The clientele who stood before me weremainly twenties to forties guys. I knew a few were bikers, but mostwere just ordinary working men who enjoyed a good 'guys' nightout.

And that's what they were about to get.

 

Chapter Three

 

All eyes were trained upward, as Maggiestarted to cast off her clothing. She wrapped herself round thepole, tossing items at the male audience, to a cacophony ofappreciative and loud whooping sounds.

I had to admit, she was good... real good...teasing the poor guys to the point of insanity.

I cast a glance at her fabulous red velvetunderwear with its black lace ruffles. It was truly gorgeous.Riders wasn't a strip club, they always kept their underwear on. Aswell as the pole dancers, Mickey hired class acts now and then...live bands... comedy... singers.

Kelly cleaned her end of the bar as Ifinished cleaning mine, working up to Maggie's space.

I'd picked up a lot of tips watching Kelly.She'd been working here for years and handled the bottles, ice andglasses like a pro. But that was all I admired about her.

She was a prize bitch.

Kelly sauntered up to me, giving me ascathing up and down look. She obviously didn't care too much formy cheerleader look. Neither did I care too much for her fishnetsand thigh-boots.

“You look kinda stupid, honey. Where's yoursense of style, stuck in tenth grade?” I was seething, but kept mycool.

“I'm diluting the hooker uniform, somethingyou might want to consider, seriously,” I replied, giving her muchthe same look as she'd given me.

“Oh, now listen to you... you thinkyou'resomuch better than me, don't you?”

“I don't know, should I?” But I did thinkbeing a nice girl, who'd only ever slept with one guy in her twentyyears, and studying the law, sat a good shelf higher in life than abar hooker.

She stood there, all wild hair and attitude,glaring at me. Not that I cared. I didn't particularly want to befriends with prostitutes, especially her. She was the worst kind ofall because she didn't have a nice bone in her body. I couldoverlook the tart if she had some kind of heart.

I turned away and loaded the washer with thedirty glasses, switching it on for a quick wash. Joshua was huggingthe bar, close by my side, watching Maggie fake an orgasm. He had avery appealing little smile hovering on his lips.

I did my best to ignore his appeal and goton with my work.

“Hiya babe, how's things?” Kelly asked him,her eyes doe-like and her lashes batting away like crazy.

“Cool, always cool, Kells, you know me.”

“If there's one thing you ain't, is cool,Joshua Lyle,” she giggled. “... andhotdon't comeclose.”

He smiled at her, obviously agreeing onehundred percent, and swigged down a mouthful of beer.

I wondered if he'd ever been with her. Iexpect he'd had all the good looking girls in the bar. And she wasgood looking, albeit in an obvious way.

A few seconds later, he leaned across thebar, beckoning for me to come close.

I took in the cool fragrance of biker badassand the amazing good looks, and felt a heavy stirring of desire. Itried to beat it back, but it was like a forest fire, spreading outof control, little embers whipping alight in my brain.

“Wanna know something?”

“I won't know till you tell me.”

“You're beautiful.” He disarmed me with hiswords, and his eyes drew me in. A swarm of surprised but thrilledbutterflies invaded my stomach, adding fuel to the fire.

“Oh, well thank you,” I muttered graciously,with a small but genuine smile.

“I noticed you started here last weekend.I'd have come over, but I was kinda busy.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” I snorted, smothering alaugh.

“It was my birthday, y'know?”

“Cool. Get any presents?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Presents? Hell no.A few drinks from the guys, that's all,”

“Aww, shame, no card, cake and candles?”

He laughed. “I ain't one for any kind offuss, I like things simple.” He licked his lips and traced hisfinger over my hand as it rested on the bar top. Every part of meheated up like a torch. I was very annoyed with myself, forresponding so full on to him. He was a man-whore and I was a veryrespectable girl for crissakes.

“Yeah, just drinks and a blow-job. What moredo you possibly need for a great birthday, huh?” I slipped my handaway and gave him two thumbs up, a wink and a click of mytongue.

His resounding, throaty chuckle and hot grinfanned my flames.

“I was kinda trashed, I hardlynoticed...”

“Really? You didn't notice? Maybe Christieshould work on her technique. I'll have a word later.”

He slapped the bar with his hand, hislaughter coming from deep inside him. I couldn't help but giggleand break into a wide smile of my own.

“You're a fun girl. Wanna share a smokeoutside? Let's go talk and get to know each other some more.” Hiseyes flared sexily.

That was a definite no-go.

I was sure Joshua Lyle was the kind of guywho liked to get to know you intimately first and talk after.

“In case you haven't noticed, I'm atwork.”

“I'll have a word with Mickey? Get you myside of the bar for a while. You can come work on me, personally,”he smirked.

“No! Don't.” I said panicking. I could quiteeasily imagine Mickey forcing me into a situation where I had to dosomething I didn't want to, just to keep Charlie Lyle's sonhappy.

“What's the problem?” He probed my eyes withhis.

“You are,” I muttered quietly to myself, “Noproblem, just busy, you know... now if you don't mind, I have othercustomers to talk to and a hundred glasses to dry. You go hang withyour badass gang. They're missing you.” I said, and shooed him awaywith my hand. As the words left my lips, and I glanced their way, Inoticed they weren't missing him at all. His hot pal Kicker, whohad an awesome scar on his forehead, was in a tight hip andlip-lock with Cherry, and the other two; whose names I didn't know,were being entertained by three girls, all vying for theirattention. There were perfectly manicured hands all over theirshoulders, arms and thighs...trying to get a prime handful of Riderguy.

He cast a glance over his shoulder andturned back with a lazy grin.

“They're doingjustfine.”

“Go join the party. Get some Friday nightaction in.”

“Not my scene. Not that kind of guy.”

Based on my intuition, what I heard andseen, I seriously doubted that was true. But I wanted to hear alittle more of his lies in any case. I put down my dish towel,giving him my full attention. “So what kind of guy are you? I'mdying to know.”

He paused for a few seconds grabbing an goodeyeful of my tits and navel.

“What kind of guy am I? Hmmm, let methink...”

He scratched his chin and rimmed his teethwith his tongue, sexily. His eyes snagged mine. His penetratinggaze did things to me, forcing me to stare, unable to look away. Mystomach fluttered and rolled. I couldn't get over his affect onme.

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