Unfortunately, this meant that he made the final decision on both what I tried on and what he planned to buy. In the end, I had six new pairs of sexy panties with matching bras, in addition to six pairs of plain cotton ones. Some of them were thongs, some were boy cut high across my ass, but all of them showed off my figure in a way that even I had to admit was hot. Then he started picking out corsets and nighties. Some of them looked like something from a bordello, all black lace, cutouts and bright red satin. Others were more tasteful, including a long, lacy nightgown and matching silk robe that looked almost virginal. My favorite piece was an ivory corset and bustier trimmed with faintly pink ribbons shaped like tiny roses. There were matching panties, and the look on Horse’s face when he saw them turned me liquid.
We ended up spending more than a thousand bucks. I almost had a heart attack, but Horse just ignored me as he paid the girl in cash. I don’t know whose eyes were wider when he pulled out that wad of bills, hers or mine. Then he handed me a black pushup bra and matching thong, saying, “Go put them on.”
I did what he said.
I figured that was the end of our shopping, but when we got back in the car he drove me to a motorcycle dealership. There he bought me a couple of Harley-Davidson tank tops that were way, way tighter than anything I’d ever worn in public before and a lightweight leather jacket. Next we stopped at a place called the Line—a strip club with an attached store full of women’s clothing. Apparently it belonged to the Reapers, and while the place wasn’t open yet for the day, the staff had arrived and were busy getting ready.
“I don’t like this place,” I told him as I followed him through the club toward a door in the far wall. Everywhere I looked were girls wearing almost nothing, some of them naked except for thongs and high heels while others wore silky robes. A few of them took his arm, pressing against his side. Some looked at me speculatively. One reached down and slid her hand over his fly, squeezing as she kissed his neck.
“Back off,” Horse said, clearly annoyed. She pouted and turned, glaring at me. “Fuckin’ bitches,” he murmured, unlocking a door leading into the store next door.
It wasn’t open for the day and I was thankful for that. This place made Vicky’s Secret look like a burkha warehouse. Edible panties, stripper heels, leather and lace and sex toys everywhere, including a few that made Horse’s equipment look small, which kind of frightened me. I literally couldn’t find a safe place to put my eyes, so I watched Horse instead as he picked out an outfit best described as “post-modern slut”. It included a dark-brown leather corset/bustier that stopped mid-stomach, exposing my bellybutton and the curves of my waist. He threw in a skirt so short I seriously wondered if I’d get arrested if we went out in public.
“I can’t wear this,” I told him, shaking my head as I looked at myself in the mirror. He stood by the counter, ignoring me. “I can’t, Horse. I’ll die.”
“You’ll wear it,” he replied, obviously preoccupied as he wrote something in a ledger.
“No.”
He looked up at me, taking in my belligerent stance. His eyes narrowed and we stood frozen for nearly a minute, neither of us blinking or giving an inch.
“We gotta go over the rules again?” he asked finally. “Because the way I remember things, you were begging to do whatever it took to save your pansy-ass brother, despite the fact that he came to us, asked us to back him and then screwed us over. In my world, that’s a prepaid funeral. You changing your mind about our deal? Door’s right over there, babe.”
“I don’t understand you,” I said, voice low and unsteady. “You can be so nice sometimes. Why do you do this?” I asked, gesturing to the horrible outfit he’d picked. “Do you really hate me so much? I don’t think I deserve this, Horse.”
He shook his head, reaching up and gripping the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger.
“I don’t hate you, babe,” he said. “You piss me off, but I can live with that. Hell, fuckin’ turns me on most of the time. But you just don’t understand all that’s happening here and I can’t tell you without fucking things up. If this bothers you I’m sorry, but there’s a good reason for it. You’ll just have to trust me.”
He turned back to the ledger, ignoring me for another minute. I watched him, seriously considering whether or not to back out of our deal, but I couldn’t do that to Jeff. He needed me.
“Shit, I forgot,” Horse said suddenly. “You need some shoes too. Go pick something out. Doesn’t matter which ones, any of ’em will do.”
Happy for a distraction, I wandered over to the wall of shoes, thankful that for once I could pick for myself. Then I realized why he didn’t bother telling me what to get, because each and every pair were clearly designed for stripping and nothing else. I settled on a pair of patent leather Mary Janes that would have looked almost demure if they didn’t have a four-inch spike heel.
Amazingly, almost every other shoe had even higher heels, some of them on platforms so tall I doubted I’d be able to take a single step wearing them. I grabbed the shoes and gave them to Horse, who didn’t say anything. His eyes darkened though, and he reached down to adjust his pants. I felt a little thrill of desire and power roar to life, which bugged the crap out of me. Why couldn’t I decide whether I liked him or hated him? How could I go from being angry to horny so incredibly fast? It wasn’t fair. I changed back out of my clothes and he bagged them, along with some teeny tank tops and baby doll t-shirts that read “Support your local Reapers Motorcycle Club”.
At least the trip to the grocery store wasn’t bad. It took us about an hour to get everything on the list. Once again, people took care to stay out of his way, which worked just fine for me. We didn’t even have to wait in line to check out, everyone just waved us ahead of them.
“Is it always like this?” I asked him as we loaded up the groceries.
“Usually,” he replied. “We’re not the biggest club, but we’re definitely in charge around here. So long as they give us respect, it’s all good. Not many citizens up for taking on a Reaper, that’s for damned sure.”
“What happens if they do?” I asked. He gave me a sharp look.
“What do you think?”
Stupid question.
When we got home Horse insisted on unloading the groceries, telling me to go upstairs and put away my new things. While just thinking about the stripper skirt gave me hives, I had to admit that the shoes made me feel sort of sexy. I couldn’t resist trying on the bustier again, which wasn’t so bad with my hip-hugging jeans. I couldn’t see my whole body in the mirror on the top of the dresser, but I saw enough to know I looked good.
Really good.
Once I finished pulling off tags and putting things away I wandered downstairs. Horse was gone, but I found a note on the table.
Got shit to do—hang out and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back around seven. Have dinner ready. We’re going out tonight.
Not exactly the master of conveying information.
I grabbed Horse’s cordless house phone and a book, then settled myself on the front porch to call Denise and let her know I wouldn’t be back to work. I felt like a complete ass when I told her I couldn’t give any notice. She didn’t buy my excuse for a minute.
“What’s going on?” she demanded. “Don’t bullshit me, Marie. Your trailer burned down last night and now you tell me you’re living with some man you barely know? What’s really happening? Tell me why I shouldn’t call the cops.”
It was hard to do, but I tried to put just the right amount of concern about the trailer burning into my voice while still sounding happy about my new circumstances.
“Jeff called me last night and told me about the trailer,” I said, trying to sound earnest and sad. “He said he started it, I guess he left his pipe on the floor before going on a beer run. I’m bummed that it burned down but I’m lucky because I already had all my stuff packed up and moved out. Jeff told me he’s crashing with a friend. He doesn’t want me to come back, says it’s his problem and he doesn’t have a place for me to stay anyway.”