Polly
Iexpected to feel a strange attachment to the things from my apartment—but I didn’t.
Most of them I donated. It was a fresh start at the clubhouse.
New life, new me. Now I was the freeuse property of an MC Prez and loving it. No responsibilities. No clocking in and out. I cooked when I wanted. I did not cook when I wasn’t in the mood. All I had to do was be available for sex.
And Abraham wanted sex a lot.
But it totally removed the anxiety about looking a certain way for sex or even whether I was going to have an orgasm or not. Because when that thick dick went inside me, it must have some secret button to press, because I was going to squirt on demand no matter which position I was in.
“So how come there aren’t any more club girls?” I asked Fizz one day.
“Huh?” he asked, twisting a finger around in his ear.
“WHERE ARE THE OTHER CLUB GIRLS?”
“Ah, that’s a complicated question,” he said evasively.
“Oh, does Abraham have other women to. . .to service him?” I asked, surprised at the little flash of jealousy.
It was really none of my business what he did, was it? That wasn’t what our arrangement was about. But, no matter how grouchy he was, I could not help that little flicker of excitement every time he walked into a room.
“No, he’s not the only one who can have a club girl, you know,” Fizz said indignantly when I had explained it to him.
“Do you want one?”
“EH? ONE WHAT?”
“A club bunny.”
“Nah. I’ve done that shit. What I really want is a steady ol lady.”
“Fizz, do you need a hearing aid?” I asked.
“Not me,” he said indignantly. “I don’t like doctors.”
“We can get you checked out fairly inexpensively at Costco,” I said, and since there was nothing else going on, I took him in my car, which rattled ominously for the entire journey, but luckily made it there and back in one piece.
When we were back, I was surprised to be met by Abraham.
“Where were you?” he asked irritably. “I whistled for you. That was part of our freeuse agreement. Are you going back on our agreement?”
“I was just going to Costco to get Fizz some new hearing aids,” I said brightly. “I can service you right now, Sir.”
“Hold on. You took Fizz out in public?”
“Of course I did. Why shouldn’t I?”
“And he didn’t attempt to blow anything up?”
“Of course not!” I said indignantly. “He was a perfect angel.”
“Prez, you know I don’t mess about with munitions in public.”
“And now he can actually hear what everyone says to him!” I chirped.
“Who said we wanted him to be able to hear anything?” Abraham said grumpily, but I noticed he instantly asked me for the exact amount and went right to the safe and got it, plus a lot more.
“Fizz keeps most of his savings buried in gold bars in the backyard,” Abraham said shortly. “Don’t piss me off by talking back about the amount I’m giving you. There’s extra for anything else you need.”
So I said nothing, and regular payments began to appear in my bank account.
To my surprise, I enjoyed the pace of life at Legends MC more and more each week. I had never cooked for so many grateful people in my life. Perry was always a harsh critic, and didn’t think my meals were anything special, but here they would polish off two apple pies a day.
The Shop was busy but it never felt dangerous to me.
I didn’t know if Abraham did all his extra illegal things at night, but all I ever saw were men fixing bikes, talking about how to fix bikes, and after dinner they talked about bikes they had fixed that day and bikes they were going to fix tomorrow.
They also discussed regular club business after dinner, but by then I had often wandered off to collect herbs, check on my sourdough starter, or watch K-dramas on my phone.
And I was at the beck and call of the MC Prez. . . for his liberal freeuse of me.
At first I worried that maybe he would get bored. As the MC Prez, surely he had a lot of other options.
But when he had me in his bed every night, and I saw no further movements made toward getting the club bunny room ready, it was hard not to think maybe he was getting a little attached.
And I absolutely loved the chills that ran down my body every time he jerked his head toward me, to tell me to go into the bedroom, or how he would come up behind me while I was cooking and pull up my skirt.
So deliciously naughty-feeling and wanton. After years of suppressing my sexuality, suddenly it felt like I was bursting with it, like a horny flower hiding under a bushel.
I couldn’t tamp down my excitement at my free new life.
And I couldn’t stop myself from secretly wanting a little more.
Abraham didn’t have to know exactly how fast my heart was pounding to look down and see a big oil-stained hand tightened on my hip as he pounded into me from the rear.
One day Vladdy was sitting next to me at the table as I prepped some food.
“Have any Russian recipes you’d like me to try?” I asked.
The big Head of Security was always quiet, but I saw him shift uncomfortably in the chair.
However, I was fine with restful silence. Mostly. So I said nothing and we sat together as I shelled peas for dinner.
Finally, he spoke.
“I saw how you helped Fizz. I—too have a problem.”
I waited.
“There’s—someone,” he said in a low voice. “Someone I’ve been. . .” He cleared his throat. “. . . hooking up with. And I—want it to be more than a casual thing but I don’t know how to say so.”
I pondered this for a moment, and there was a loud noise from the side as Uncle rolled through the clubhouse and into the Shop, with Fizz following behind, the two of them arguing about something to do with a bike.
And the way Vladdy’s eyes tracked Unc’s every move. . . I knew exactly who he was talking about.
“Maybe. . .start out lowkey. Just ask if he’s interested in going to get food. Just the two of you. Or bring him a little present.”
“Like what?”
“Just something small that he’s into. Something personal. Then you can gauge and see what his interest level is.”
Vladdy looked like he was considering this.
“Boxing. . . NASCAR. . .” I ventured, trying to pretend like I didn’t know who he was talking about.
Just then Abraham walked into the room, practically having to turn sideways through the doorway, talking to a customer with that intense, focused look he always had when he worked on a bike.
Should I really be giving anyone relationship advice when I was foolishly getting way too attached to an MC Prez who didn’t even like women. . .