Taken by Bikers(10)

By: Meg Jackson


“Going to a costume party, sweetheart?” one called out to me as I browsed through a rack of leather vests. I shot him a dirty look and kept searching; I pulled a few off the rack and turned to the men behind the counter.

“Got a changing room?” I asked, trying to sound tough. The men just grinned.

“Not here, honey. But we don’t mind if you wanna change right here, do we?” one of the men said, nudging the one next to him. I felt my skin crawl at the thought of these jerks enjoying the sight of my young body.

“Well, what’s your return policy?” I demanded, trying my best to hide my disgust.

“Well, you can return anytime you want, but those don’t come back here, sweetie.” I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t pick anything without trying it on and didn’t want to have to pay for three vests if I only needed one, but realized I didn’t have any options. Throwing them down on the counter, I crossed my arms and looked into the distance as one of the men started ringing me up.

“So, really, sweetheart, you going to a party? Or you just wanna treat your boyfriend?”

“None of your business,” I snarled. I hated being hit on by these gross men; sure, I was into Cash, but that didn’t mean that every big bulky biker could turn me on. As I paid and strutted out of the store, I heard more laughter and whistles follow me. I sped home as fast as I could, feeling a mix of indignation and embarrassment. They were right. What was I doing? I wasn’t that sort of girl. Not at all.

Once I got home, I raced upstairs and immediately ripped my top and bra off. I knew I had to act fast before doubt got the better of me. Once I tried the first vest on, there was no need to try on any of the others. It zipped up the front and gave my already-generous bust an extra boost of cleavage. I grabbed a denim skirt and a pair of open-toed pumps and called it done.

I didn’t wear a bra or panties, knowing that I would be in agony deciding which to wear. After applying a bit of makeup, I decided I was good to go and ran downstairs, praying that my Mom and Dad wouldn’t be hanging out somewhere they could see me. Once safely in my car, I plugged the address I had gotten online into my GPS and drove off.

A half hour later, I was once again parked outside of Della’s, this time solo. I was breathing heavily, nearly panicking. I’d never done anything even remotely like this, and I wasn’t sure what to expect, or if I was having some sort of mental breakdown. I finally turned the engine off and stepped outside, adjusting my clothes as I did. Taking another deep breath, I walked quickly onto the porch, threw the door open, and strode to the bar.

I could see the stunned looks on the men’s faces as I approached the bar. I wasn’t sure if they recognized me or just weren’t expecting someone like me to come in. I immediately felt embarrassed by my entire. I could tell by the smirks and chuckles that I was trying way too hard. Standing at the bar and waiting to catch on of the bartenders’ attention, I felt naked. Finally, the dark-haired bartender approached me with a smile on her face.

“Well, don’t we know you from somewhere, little girl? You sure do look familiar. What can I get you?” She asked.

“I’m…I’m looking for, uh, Cash?” I whispered.

“What’s that, darling?” She asked, leaning in, winking at one of the men at the bar.

“Uh, Cash?” I repeated.

“You’re asking for some cash? Well, what you got to make it worth it for us?” She laughed. She was speaking loudly and all the men at the bar were staring at us now.

“No, no, I’m looking for a man,” I sputtered.

“Well, lots here to choose from, little girl,” she said back. The bar roared with laughter. I felt my eyes well up. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, I thought to myself, desperately. I knew I’d made a mistake coming back, and I knew I had to get out of there. Just as I turned to leave, a door in the back of the bar opened.

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