Heat shot up my spine, and my core tightened, it was Kayson. He was filling my days, nights, and my dreams. My soft cries and moans were in agreement with everything he said.

“This morning is going to be rough and fast because you have to get up and get ready. But I don’t want you to leave without feeling me all day, okay?”

“Yes. Yes. Just give it to me,” I begged.

Two fingers slipped inside my opening, curling and straightening.

“God, you’re so fucking wet. You ready for me?”

“Now, Yes. Now. I want to come.”

“Look at me.”

I opened my eyes and realized this wasn’t a dream. I was getting it fast and dirty from Kayson, and I was enjoying it. There was nothing soft about him or his need at that moment. It was pure desire.

“Fuck, Ariel. You drive me mad.”

“Please, Kayson.”

He tore open the condom wrapper, but I wanted to do this. I took the latex band from him and placed it on the tip, squeezing his shaft, I drummed my fingers against his hard length as I inched the condom down.

“Hurry.” Kayson’s voice was all growl, and I forced my hands to move faster so that the condom was completely on.

With one fast, hard thrust he was in me. He was on his knees, hands wrapped around my hips. He lifted me off the bed and shoved me down on his thick erection, up and down.

“Fuck, sweet. I’ve never. Oh, my God. Baby. Ariel.”

It was a mixture of his words, the hunger I saw in his eyes, and the raw need raging through him that had me tightening my legs around him, urging him to move faster, harder. He gave me everything.

When I felt his release, I was gone. I joined him. As our hearts raged against one another, I lay there, panting, and evaluating how this man had just turned my world upside down.

He rested back on his legs, me still impaled, his hands still gripping my hips. “Don’t move. I’ll turn on the shower and get the water warmed up for you.” He pulled out of me.

I hoped that no matter what happened in my life, I never took for granted the little things that he always seemed to do.

When I got out of the shower, Kayson was standing there with a cup of coffee for me. While I dressed, he rested one hip on the counter, and we talked about his day’s plans.

“I need to do some personal office work, pay bills, balance checkbook, shit like that. And if possible, I want to get some mowing done today.”

I felt guilty at the thought that he was doing all of that while I was with the girls.

“I’ll go to the grocery store after breakfast with the girls,” I offered, trying to do my part to pitch in.

“No. We can do that together. We’ll plan out our week of meals.”

His words didn’t scare me quite as much as they would have even just a week ago. Sure, they were so domesticated—so we. But a part of me wanted to see the we that Kayson and I could be.

“Meet you downstairs.” Kayson leaned over and kissed my cheek before leaving the bedroom as I gathered my essentials: credit card, license, and lipstick.

When I got downstairs, I didn’t see Kayson anywhere, so I headed to the garage. The little things just kept shocking the hell out of me, they made my heart beat a tad faster, and the first crack in my resolve to avoid a relationship fractured.

Kayson had opened the garage door and was already turning my bike around for me, All I had to do was put on my helmet and go. The man was thoughtful; it was those damn little things. Looking up at the first roar from engines, I headed over to my bike and grabbed my helmet. But Kayson stopped me by winding his fingers through the back of my hair and pulling me in for a kiss.

“Be safe, I mean it,” he said against my lips.

“Aye aye, Captain,” I replied and gave him a weak salute. Then fastened my helmet and started my engine. Stella and Leo pulled up and turned their bikes around next to mine. Kayson walked over and hugged each one.

“Keep my girl safe. Okay?”

“We got her.” Leo gave him the reassurance he needed.

We rode off, I wasn’t sure where we were headed, but it was fun riding with a group of women. On this crystal Sunday morning, the roads were relatively deserted, and tourist traffic was down since most kids were back in school. We stopped at Piper’s house to pick up her, and I was introduced to Everly, a paramedic, and Vivian, the owner of Sixes and the widow of Sergeant Haines who was killed earlier in the year.

The six of us left and headed downtown. The old brick road portion of Mills Avenue made my teeth rattle, and the roar of our engines probably pissed off the neighbors in the Lake Lawson area, but hopefully, they had excellent insulation. Falling into a two by two formation, Stella and Piper turned into a parking lot at the back of a restaurant.

I loved this area of Orlando. It was old, original, and one of the most diverse districts. Within a two-mile radius, there was VietVille, filled with Vietnamese restaurants and spice stores and an area full of biker bars and tattoo shops. There was also Highland Park, a school where you had to have your child’s name on the list while they were still a pollywog in their daddy’s nuts just to have a hope of getting in. Last but not least, there was this area, where we were, this was where Orlando encouraged you to let your freak flag fly.

Passing by gawkers, who were all busy staring at a group of biker women, who dressed for the slide, not for the ride. We all had to contain Stella, who tried to sound like she was dishing out gang slang instead of medical terms.

“Stop with the gang shit.” Everly wrapped her hands over Stella’s mouth as if that would stop her. “There’s probably several nurses and doctors back there who understood every word you just said and are scratching their heads at why bikers are talking about enemas.”

“Well, at least they aren’t scratching their balls.”

I held out my hands palm up in a what-gives gesture, because really, how could these women, who had known Stella longer than I had, give her such great ammunition.

A harmony of sweet voices rang out, and the sound of an organ wafted in the air that was heavy with the smell of breakfast foods—bacon and maple syrup.

“Why are some people in their Sunday finest?” I wondered looking around at the women dressed in pastels with matching hats and gloves. We were a stark contrast to them.

“You hear that?” Everly pointed to the sky. “We’re about to attend a whole different type of church.”

Walking into the restaurant, we were greeted by a woman with a beehive hairdo wearing a fifties-style waitress outfit, and a name tag that read Alice.

Everly checked us in. Thank goodness we had a reservation, this place was the bomb, and the looky-loos that stared at us were going to be in line for a long, long time. The line wrapped around the building.

A group of women with bouffant hair, and wearing gospel choir robes, and fabulous five-inch stiletto heels walked across the stage. How they didn’t break their necks in those heels was beyond me.

“Now you, honey child.” I looked around to see who the gorgeous blonde with mocha skin was talking to. “Yes you, with the red hair.”

“He’s talking to you Ariel,” Leo whispered in my ear.

“He?”

“Yes, he. This is a drag show.”

“No fucking way. They have better bodies than we do.” They did indeed know how to flaunt what the good Lord gave them.

“You know what they say about red hair?” the blonde asked me.

I thought for a second, do I let my smartass mouth loose or do I play innocent? Fuck it, “Redheads are only for men brave enough to play with fire?”

I heard a few snickers, and one person said, “You tell her, honey!” Of course, the Iron Orchids were cheering loudly.

“Come here, child. I like you. We must baptize you. Red hair is a sign of evil. You’re a daywalker. Can I get an amen?”

Shouts of amen rang out from people in the audience. Every time the blonde said something, people were on their knees, crossing themselves and shouting it. But when it dawned on me that they weren’t shouting “amen” but “hey men,” I lost it. I had found my favorite place to hang out.

Blonde Beauty continued talking about my red hair, but it didn’t bother me, I loved my hair. I was a real red, so I had heard just about every jab there was. Daywalker—that was so Cartman on South Park like ten years ago. And I grew up dreaming of someday being called Carrots by a boy that looked like Gilbert Blythe from Anne of Green Gables. Hell, I wanted to be Anne and cause that much mischief.

“You know what time it is?” the blonde asked.

“Time for breakfast,” I replied.

“Oh, no, child. We’re gonna . . .” And then he started singing. “We’re gonna wash that sin right out of your hair.”

I sang along since I knew the words from the musical South Pacific. But they had replaced the word “man” with the word “sin.” He ran his fingers through my hair and massaged my scalp with his long red nails.

When the song was over, and I was permitted to rejoin my group, our food was being served. You didn’t order, your table just got everything served family style. It was a real southern-style breakfast with grits, eggs, pancakes, biscuits and gravy. The only thing not on the table was bacon and sausage.

Servers walked around and enjoyed asking diners raunchy questions like, “Would you like to taste my sausage?” or “Would you like some meat?”

Best of all no one threw a hissy fit when I asked for iced tea for breakfast. Did I already say how much I loved this place?

The choir queens sang along to old hymnal songs that I grew up listening to on Mama’s old record player. If a table was too quiet, the choir doused them in holy water then returned to singing. Since none of us particularly cared for riding wet, we stomped our feet and clapped our hands. I had given so many profound shouts of ‘hey men,’ that I either had a one-way ticket to heaven or hell. I wasn’t quite sure which. It depended on semantics.

“That’s right, you little daywalker, feel his spirit, let his spirit in,” the blonde preached.

“I’m betting five bucks, she already let him this morning,” Stella announced to the crowd.

I went to grab something sharp, Piper beat me to it and slid the knife out of my reach. “I won’t kill her, just maim her.” My plea sounded entirely rational to me.

“Well, we got a new song today, and I’m gonna dedicate it to our daywalker, who got a little sumthin’, sumthin’ this morning.”

I laughed because, who wouldn’t? Then I held my hands up in surrender. “Okay. If y’all are gonna discuss this at least get your facts straight. It ain’t little.”

Leo gave her loud, “Whoop, whoop.”

While Piper covered her ears, trying to block out the words. Of course, I received high fives all around, until Stella pretended to send a text and blast the news all over the internet.

“Well, I want you all to know that I’ve worked real hard. Okay, not that hard,” the blonde said into the microphone with a laugh. “Anyway, today’s debut song is sure to get those juices flowing. Which always sounds good to me. How does that sound to you?” he asked the other singers with him. The organist hit the first keys, and a remake of the classic “Bringing in the Sheaves” got a whole new meaning. There wasn’t a lot that I could tell you about the song, but at least I knew that we all will come rejoicing.

After he had sung the last song, the gorgeous mocha blonde came over and sat with us. He introduced himself as Ringo.

“Girlies, look at you, bringing that eighties biker chic back in style.”

“Damn right.” I smiled at him. “Actually, we rode our bikes over here.”

“All you ride motorcycles?”

We all nodded.

“Aren’t you just a bunch of bad ass bitches. Look out. Meow. All of you need to come back during the week and watch my fabulous ass perform. I make a killer Whitney.” Ringo swore that only two people could sing “One Moment in Time” and Whitney was the other one. Since that was my favorite song from her, I promised we’d return and see him perform.

An evening full of queen impersonators would be a hoot. Ringo got up to mingle with the rest of the audience, leaving the girls and I to have some talk time.

“Let’s talk Iron Orchids,” Leo said.

“Well, I have a surprise for y’all. I unzipped my pocket and brought out a piece of nylon fabric that I had sewn. “Kayson always wears his wings and says, ‘No motor deputy rides without them,’ so I added wings, of course I put a few orchids, and since we are in Florida, I had to put that as well. What do you think?” No one said a word. They just stared at the damn fabric. I thought it looked fucking cool as a patch, but maybe I’d misjudged. “I can make something different, it’s just an idea for a patch. We don’t have to use it.”

“Fuck. I know what it is.” Stella grabbed the fabric. “I want to know how the hell you made it? It is fucking wicked. We need this thing on our vests. You’ve been holding out on us, chickie.” I smiled, finally understanding that they were admiring my handy work not judging. “Let’s give Ariel our vests, we’ve got ourselves a gang.”

“We’re not a gang.” All of us shouted, but by this point, Stella was just saying that shit to rile us.

“Harley is always having rallies, and it would be a great way to find more women to join, I can check with my boss.” Leo offered. “Or we could sign up for one of their charity rides?”

“How about an all ladies motorcycle class? I was sort of intimidated by all the guys that were trying to show off on the bikes while I was just trying to stay upright. Not to mention I’d just moved here, I didn’t know the roads to practice on, having women who were learning at the same time to ride would’ve been great.”

“Enough with the evasive tactic, how big is he?” Stella asked. “I always assumed all four of those boys were probably demigods and they should be sculpted for some museum.”

“Or just to help other men aspire,” Leo added.

“What the fuck?” Stella had never kept it a secret that she thought Kayson and his brothers were hot, but Leo? “Are you crushing on one of the brothers?”

Leo’s face turned flame red. “No. I just think that they’re all hot.”

“Whatever you say. But I’m calling bullshit on that lie,” I whispered into her ear.

She turned to stare into my eyes, almost a pleading to let it drop, so I did.

“We aren’t discussing the size of Kayson’s pecker. Let’s pay the tab.” I could feel the heat burning in my chest, it was a strange feeling of comfort. Everyone knew and accepted that Kayson and I were together, a team, a we. Now I needed to admit it to myself and then to Kayson.

We stood, and I waved to Ringo, and then headed out to my bike. The rest of the girls had no choice but to follow.

* * *

When I pulled into Kayson’s garage, he was waiting for me with a smile on his face. It was comforting and frightening at the same time. When I looked at him, I saw home.

“Did you have fun today?” he asked.

“Mm-hm.”

He swept me up into his arms. “Where’d you go?”

“A restaurant called Bananas. Heard of it?”

Kayson let out a throaty laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”

“How about you? What’d you do?”

“Went to your apartment. Just wanted to check on it and grab some more of your girly shit.”

“My girly shit?”

“Yeah. The good-smelling girly shit.”

“Ooh.”

Wrapping one strong hand on either side of my hips, he pushed me toward the stairs, hustling me up and through the open double doors.

“Ohh,” I whimpered. He had set out a few photos on the dresser of my mama and me.

“That’s ‘Ohh, Kayson’ to you,” he said and tossed me into the middle of the bed.