Taken by Bikers(7)

By: Meg Jackson

Cash walked me up to the bar, hand still on my shoulder, and pulled out a stool. I lifted myself up and grabbed a napkin to wipe my nose and cheeks. I started to feel very ashamed. After all, I had just been caught being fondled by my boyfriend, who then tried to start a fight, got beat up, and left by telling me how he’d been cheating on me. I don’t think I’d ever been part of such an embarrassing scene in my life. Cash beckoned one of the bartenders over.

“Give us a hot toddy, Gina,” he said. The bartender, one of the blonde ones, gave me a long look, shaking her head.

“You got it, boss. Poor thing. Rough night, huh, sweetie?” She said, reaching out a hand to pat my arm. She left to make the drink and I was left alone with Cash.

“I’m s-s-s-sorry, I didn’t, I didn’t th-think anything w-w-w-was wrong and th-then…” I tried to speak, but was still racked with sobs.

“Oh, don’t apologize. That little shit was looking for trouble. Him and his little friends been in here before, starting shit with the ladies and trying to act cool. Nothing makes me happier than getting rid of a little turd like that. Don’t you worry, you didn’t do anything wrong, teacup,” Cash said, still massaging my shoulder. I wanted to lean into him and cry into his shirt. I felt so ashamed, and hurt, by Brian, and this older, rougher man was…I couldn’t even think it. I just saw there wiping my tears and looking down at my lap. Cash called to one of the other bartenders.

“Call a cab here, huh?” Cash turned to me again. “We’ll get you home safe. Don’t worry. What got you thinking you should come out to a place like this, anyway?” He had that half-smile on his face.

“I-I-I just, B-B-Brian said it would be fun,” I stammered, suddenly even more ashamed. This man was right. I had no business being here. I was just a little girl, no idea what she was really doing. Cash let go of my shoulder and patted me on the back.

“Yeh, I could have guessed that. Don’t tell me, now, that you’re gonna go back to that asshole. I don’t care what his sorry ass says to you, you don’t do it. You have some pride.” I could only sniffle. It was just too much to take in. Cash grabbed my chin and pulled my face up to meet his eyes. “Tell me you won’t go back.”

“I won’t,” I said, surprising myself by the strength in my voice. Cash’s hands were rough against my skin. It felt good, to be held that way. I looked into his eyes and I don’t know what happened. It was like something deep inside of me woke up, hungry.

I grabbed Cash’s huge, muscular body and threw myself into his arms; leaning up, nearly falling off the stool, I kissed him. His breath was hot and tasted like whiskey; for a moment he didn’t respond but then I felt him kiss me back and my heart raced. I felt his hands on my hips and he squeezed tightly; the slight embrace was enough to make me moan. Then he pulled back abruptly.

“Well, now, teacup, that was nice, but this is not the time or the place for that kinda behavior. You don’t have your head on right,” he said, shaking his head. I looked around the bar and realized everyone was staring at us. I bit my lip and dropped my head, more embarrassed than ever.

The bartender planted a cup of warm tea in front of me. I grabbed it, wanting to do something with my hands to distract myself from the shock and shame that was rolling through me as I thought of all those dirty, lecherous faces watching me. I sipped slowly and was surprised by the subtle taste of whiskey. Here goes nothing, hopefully I’ll wake up and won’t remember any of this, I thought, and drank deeply.

Cash had his half-smile on again, and was reaching for a napkin. He wrote something down on it, quickly, and passed it to me. He leaned in very close to my ear and whispered, “if you ever have your mind right and wanna see me again, though, you go ahead.”

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