Carlie checked her appearance in the mirror on the reverse side of the sun visor. The mirror wasn’t large, but she was able to give herself an appraising look. She was full figured and buxom, and the chocolate color of her skin clashed with the dark blue of the dress that she had gotten into for tonight. The single blonde highlight in her hair gave a splash of color to her otherwise jet black hair.

She didn’t look bad, she thought, though she thought that she could have done better. And with only fifteen minutes to get ready, she thought that she could have done worse. But as soon as they broke the city limits and headed into what the locals referred to as “open country” she had second thoughts about coming at all.

But like so many times before she had given in to the pressure of Jackie, her best friend, to go out and do something wild and crazy. That usually meant going to a club that they had never been to before. It meant having a few drinks, eyeing the men there, maybe striking up a conversation… some harmless flirting… and if one of them got lucky, taking a cab ride home for a little no-strings-attached kind of deal. That was their way… that was how they had fun.

But once they passed the edge of the city and entered into the kind of stretch of land where cabs wouldn’t go, Carlie found that she was dependent on Jackie to get home. Cabs wouldn’t come out here, not even if they were paid triple the fare. That also meant that Carlie was stuck with her friend, win or lose. And every mile that they traveled away from the city her spirits began to sink lower for the possibilities of how this night could end.

Going out and doing something wild and fun sounded like fun when Jackie talked about it, just like it always did. Jackie always pitched it as a chance to break up the monotony of their everyday lives. To do something that was so far out of their comfort zone that if they were to mail themselves postcards about it the cards wouldn’t arrive for another week. To live life on the very edge… experience mystery… danger… and the thrill of being surrounded by the kinds of characters that filled Jackie’s only requisite for sexual conquest.

“I want to meet a guy that makes me damp in my panties just by looking at him,” Jackie said as they approached one of the dozens of dive bars that could be found along the highway of the greater L.A. area.

Carlie looked at her friend with mild disgust up at the bar as they approached and her expression changed. As mild as the loathing was for her friend at this particular moment, her dislike for this place was tantamount.

The bar didn’t look like a bar at all. It looked more like the kind of place in a movie where fights broke out constantly, and people were buried in shallow graves out in the back. Any second she expected to see a man – or a pair of them – come flying out the front windows of the place throwing beer bottles at each other or trying to pound each other’s lights out. At the very worst she expected to see another pair of men come crashing out the front doors locked in either some kind of a knife fight or a gun battle worthy of one of the old western movies.

That’s fucking California for you… she thought as she took in the other details of the building.

It was a simple one-story place. It was built out of cinderblocks and was a wide place, like it could have been some kind of a storage facility or something once upon a time. There were stained windows on the front, flanking either side of a metal double-door at which there was a line of people already waiting to get in. Through the windows, she could see the light flickering and the blurred shapes of silhouetted figures moving back and forth, the privacy of the place – at least from the outside – was assured.

Oh, good, she thought as they drew closer. No one will see if we get murdered while we’re inside.

The front was covered in graffiti from top to bottom and in the kind of street characters that she couldn’t read. Even from the outside, she could hear the beat of the loud music and the sound of laughter and high conversation. The smell of tobacco and engine exhaust permeated the air, and she felt sick to her stomach after only a few breaths.

As bad as the place was, it didn’t hold a candle to the kinds of people that were standing in line, waiting for admittance. There were men and women in both, and both seemed to be divided into two distinct camps.

Among them were the kinds of people she figured were the “normal” bikers. Those were bedecked in leather chaps, bandanas on their heads, dark sunglasses, beards, visible tattoos, and leather jackets that could have housed anything from knives to big bore pistols.

Alternately, there were the collections of people that she knew to be the speed demons of this particular day in age. Most of them were younger, only one or two years removed from being kids really. Those were dressed in padded jackets and pants that sported the logo of bike races, or other faster-than-shit marketing. There were men and women there too, the women wearing figure-flattering pants or shirts. Roadies, she thought they were called… or something to that effect.

Either way, it was a strange mixture of people. Bikers who preferred good old-fashioned muscle bikes mingling with those who liked speed and noise from theirs, it was an odd sight. Being from deep inside the city she had always thought that the two groups of people generally didn’t like each other. To see them here was like watching fire and oil slowly creep towards each other and waiting for the inevitable flare up that would consume them and everything else around them.

There was a small assortment of other vehicles parked out in front of the place as well. The most dominant of the vehicles parked out front were, of course, the assortment heavy bikes; Harley’s… Sturgis… like that, which clearly belonged to the traditional bikers. On the other side, as if there were designated parking areas for them, there were Kawasaki’s… Hondas… Ducati’s… or ‘crotch rockets’ as she heard them referred to as. There were also a few pickup trucks and a few cars, including the car that she and Jackie had arrived in. but the former told her that this place was a gathering ground for bikers.

Not the kind of place that we should be, she thought, kicking herself to agreeing to go out on another one of Jackie’s adventures. She said as much to her friend as they drew closer.

“Oh, come on!” Jackie said, with a childlike whine. “Where’s your spine?”

“Firmly lodged inside my back and that’s where I’d like to keep it,” Carlie said as she kicked a rock through the dirt of the parking lot. “To that end, we’re going back home… now.” She said resolutely, feeling determined to head back towards Jackie’s car, parked on the side of the road on the dirt shoulder where they’d left it. The car was old and a little beat up and wouldn’t have stood out in a gathering of vehicles like this so they might still go unnoticed, but Carlie would have thought that the car was better than a stretch limo if only they could turn around and leave now.

“Carlie,” Jackie said, reaching out and resting her hands firmly on her shoulders and keeping her from moving another inch. “Do you know what this place is?”

Carlie looked over her friend’s shoulder at the bar behind her and then looked back to her friend. The cinderblock walls, tinted windows, a gathering of shady characters hadn’t changed. And a neon sign above the door that labeled the place as “The Open Road” shined brightly, but did nothing to tell her of any hidden or underlying meaning that she might have otherwise been missing.

“Is this a trick question, because it looks like a convenient spot for murderers to hide?”

“No,” Jackie said, squeezing her shoulders with mild irritation. “This place… I heard about it at work today,” she said excitedly, but softly. “It’s said that the Gods of Asphalt-like to spend some of their time here.”

Carlie arched a curious eyebrow at her friend. Much of what came out of Jackie’s mouth was a mystery to her, but more than once a little edification was necessary. “And who are they, some kind of a Goth band or something? Is that what this place is? A roadhouse?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Jackie said, leaning forward and allowing her head to hang in the narrow space between them for a moment before looking up again. “How can you live in L.A. and not know this?” She tensed her fingers on her shoulders as if pressing the information into her body through her touch. “Carlie, the Gods of Asphalt… they’re a motorcycle gang! And I hear that a couple of them are really cute.”

Carlie felt her heart quicken and the desire to leave intensified tenfold. But even that comingled with her desire to smack her good friend upside the head. She was as bad as a man sometimes, being very one-track minded. She might not have known what Jackie did about this place, but she knew that gangs were not typically people that she wanted to be around. That Jackie was a creature motivated by sex had never been a shock to her, but it was that very reason that got them into trouble more than a few times. She put her hands up on Jackie’s shoulders and squeezed intensely. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that. Because if you did, as your friend, I would feel obligated to knock you the fuck out and carry you back to your cheap car and go home and along the way we’ll forget that this whole idea of yours ever happened.”

“Oh, come on!” Jackie said, that familiar whine in her voice reminding her of a pouty child. “Please!”

“No!” Carlie said, tensing her shoulders. “You want to go to a women’s strip club and try and get one of the dancers into your panties… fine. You want to get dressed up like we’re rich and go to a gentleman’s social club to fuck a rich guy… fine. But bars where biker gangs congregate, and we could end up dead? Uh-uh, I’m drawing the line!” she said resolutely and turned back towards the car.

“Carlie!” Jackie said, her pouty tone firmly intact.

“Come on!” she repeated.

“You know I have the keys to my car, right?”

Carlie froze after two steps and shut her eyes with intense loathing for her friend at this particular moment. But that was nothing compared to the self-loathing that she had for herself. All of this could have been avoided if she’d simply said “No” to this night’s outing. She turned back to her friend.

Jackie held up her ring of keys with a winning smile on her face that was, again, akin to a child’s: grinning like they were playing a game that she had already won. And just like she normal, Jackie pulled out the collar of her shirt and dropped the keys down between her breasts and gave each of them a suggestive push-up, hiding the bulk of the keys inside. And then turned to walk towards the line of people waiting outside the doors of the bar and the meaning in that was all too clear: if she wanted to leave, she would have to let Jackie have her fun.

It was an old trick of hers. Carlie was a doctor by training. The human body didn’t bother her. But there was something particularly unnerving about having to feel around inside her friend’s cleavage for the car keys. It was a line that she hadn’t crossed.

Yet, she thought to herself as she grumbled and followed Jackie inside.

The interior of the bar was just about what she had predicted it would be once they got inside. They waited in line for ten minutes before a pair of large – but not entirely neutral looking – bouncers admitted them. All the while Carlie whispered into Jackie’s ear, “I hate you for this.”

If Jackie was at all offended by her words she had given no sign of it, her attention being decidedly elsewhere. She just bounced on her heels excitedly as they finally got inside. All Carlie could do was think that her friend was playing Russian Roulette and that somehow the both of them would end up catching a bullet if they weren’t careful in a place like this.

There were so many people crammed on the inside of the bar that she was amazed that there was room for people to move. And every activity seemed to require people from both camps to participate.

There was a dance floor where bikers were crammed and moving to a melody that was hard to hear over the other noises. There were people at the pool tables, playing darts, or having some kind of a drinking game at one corner table or another. Some of them looked to be having hushed conversations while others looked positively overt about whatever it was that they were discussing. It all put a chill down Carlie’s back.

She followed Jackie all the way up to the bar trying to stay as close to her friend as a remora on a shark’s back. She felt stupid even being here. It wasn’t the first time that Jackie’s pussy had led them into a place like this and Carlie considered getting her friend some therapy to try and cure her sex-driven adventures. While Jackie’s eye was wandering around for some piece of easy man-flesh, Carlie’s eye was warier and watching for potential threats.

There were too many to count.

They pushed their way all the way up to the bar and Carlie felt vulnerable for it. The bar was on the far side of the building, directly opposite from the door. It would be no small chore to get out in a hurry if it came to it. But with so many bad elements crowded into a place like this, Carlie felt as if Jackie’s overdeveloped sex drive had finally landed them in god’s blind spot.

Jackie ordered them a couple of beers, though Carlie would have preferred something a tad stronger. Though to have something stronger might have dulled her senses a little more than she wanted and something about that felt like she was baiting herself for something nasty to come and eat her.

She turned an eye to her friend. Where Jackie was slender and perky, Carlie was larger and buxom. Jackie’s skin was fair while Carlie was dark, but she took some comfort from the fact that the pair of them weren’t drawing any unwanted attention from the people around them. It was as if they were invisible to these people and Carlie found that nothing short of acceptable. But as soon as Jackie tried to let it show that she was in need of a little TLC, then that was going to change and quick.

“Ooh, he looks good,” Jackie said, pointing out on particular biker sitting alone at a table near the dance floor. Carlie’s eyes followed Jackie’s finger, and she saw the focus of her friend’s attention.

He was nothing special. A man of sandy blond hair with a gruff look about him, like a man that should have been on a pirate ship with a patch over his eye rather than a leather vest across his chest. But he had the kind of rugged manliness that Carlie knew Jackie favored in her men. The jacket he wore had the logo of some kind of a high-velocity race team, and there was no question in her mind as to which camp this man belonged to.

“Does he make you damp in your panties?” Carlie asked.

Jackie shook her head. “No… but I’ll have to get closer to be sure.” She took the beer that the bartender gave them and took a large swig before setting the bottle down. She gave her breasts one final push upright and brushed her hair over her shoulders. “How do I look?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Jackie smiled. “Keep your fingers crossed, sweetie. Mama’s going hunting.” With that, Jackie started off across the crowded room, leaving Carlie sitting alone at the bar.

Carlie almost called out after her friend but thought better of it. Noise would only attract unwanted attention, and she preferred to remain as invisible as she could. She sighed and found an unoccupied stool and crawled up on it, taking her beer and drinking half of it in one go.

“I take it that you don’t really care to be here?” asked a deep and brooding voice from behind her.

She turned on her stool to see who had spoken.

Her voice caught in her throat when she saw the owner of the voice. She didn’t know how to describe it to her satisfaction except to say that there was a god standing on the opposite side of the bar.

At first, the sight of him barely registered in her mind. He seemed so out of place here it was like finding a clean spot in a slaughter house. This man that stood before her… he was captivating to look at. All of the noise from the bar simply seemed to fade away. There only seemed to be him and her standing here… it was as if they were completely alone. But as strange as it seemed she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

He stood close to six feet tall... maybe a little more. His hair was short, nearly spiked and was light brown in color. His eyes were a deep gray, like the sky after a passing storm. His skin was fair but pleasantly darkened as if he spent a lot of time under the sun. His jaw was pointed with an adorable cleft in his chin. More pleasant than that was his figure. From what she could see he wore only leather riding pants and a leather vest. Underneath that vest his abs, chest, and arms were fully visible, and the muscles that were partially concealed under there were beautiful from any angle.

“Excuse me?” she said, finding that her voice had seemed to falter in her throat.

“It’s pretty obvious that you don’t want to be here,” replied the god, a slight trace of what she thought to be a southern accent apparent in his voice as he began to mix a drink, but he did so without taking his eyes off of her. “Usually, most people that come in here have a reason for being here. It’s pretty clear that you don’t.”

Carlie licked her lips, finding that they had suddenly become dry, and she turned herself on her stool to rest her elbows on the bar and face the man fully. “Oh? Am I that obvious?”

The godly bartender smirked, and she found something magnetic in the simple expression. “Well, you do stand out.”

She felt herself blush.

“So what brings you here? Business or pleasure?”

She tried to keep her face neutral. “Uh…”

“Pleasure,” he said, seeming to draw the answer out of her Omni potently. “Well, I’m not sure if you’ll find any pleasure here… but I’m glad you came just the same.”

She tried to maintain her neutral look, but her lips cracked with a girlish smile.

He gestured to the bar at large. “It’s a dump, isn’t it?”

All she could do was give a slight nod.

The bartender nodded in the direction that Jackie had gone off in. “Your friend dragged you here, right? Can’t see why a lady such as you would be here unless she didn’t want to actually be here.”

Carlie said nothing but simply gave a nod as if she were, in fact, being questioned by a god and knew better than to lie. She wasn’t silent out of politeness. She simply wanted to hear him speak more.

The bartender completed his drink and slid it down the bar without watching where it ended up, though it likely was caught by the one who had asked for it. He leaned on the counter top across from her and looked her over, his eyes scanning her from the hair to elbow and then back. Somehow the sight of simply watching him look at her sent a strange tingle up and down her spine.

“I saw the way you walked in here… it’s pretty obvious you don’t generally keep with a crowd like this. But I noticed how you kept your back straight. That means a proper upbringing… that means money. You come from a wealthy family, and I noticed how you kept a watchful eye on everyone else in this place. So you know how to recognize danger when you see it, and that means you have a professional eye.” He turned his head sideways like he was looking at her from a new angle. “That tells me you’re a lawyer… maybe a doctor… someone from the upper echelon. And you’re here because you have no choice. How am I doing?”

She nodded but didn’t speak. She didn’t want him to know how much he was getting right, only to acknowledge that he had gotten something right. There was something exciting in keeping him guessing. More important than that, she didn’t want to break his chain of words in any way, his voice was like magic. He sounded both intuitive and hypnotic at the same time, and his words were a silent command for her to keep listening.

Keep talking, she silently pleaded.

The barkeep again looked her over; his eyes seemed to be combing her more deeply than before like he was surveying every strand of muscle beneath her skin. Part of her hoped – wildly so – that he was simply undressing her with his eyes.

“From the way you’re dressed, I can tell that you don’t like to flaunt your wealth. But your perfume,” he sniffed at the air, “that’s Lilac Seduction. High-end stuff usually goes for two grand for an ounce.” He looked her over; his eyes seemed to reach deeper inside of her. “From your perfume and your casual dress I can tell that you live a simple life… you have a routine… you’re organized… and after a while that gets to be pretty mundane. So your friend, who obviously doesn’t come from money or privilege, wants a night of doing something unorthodox. Something dark and dangerous, and a biker’s bar seemed like a good place to go. But you… you had reservations about it. I’ll bet you tried to talk her out of it the whole way here. Am I right?”

She couldn’t maintain her silence anymore and felt a giddy excitement building up inside of her. “I’m impressed,” she said with a smile.

“So, I was right?”

She tilted her head to one side and took a drink from her beer. “Close enough.”

The barkeep smiled.

“Hey there, handsome,” said a woman’s voice from Carlie’s shoulder, drawing her attention of the god away from her.

She looked and saw the shapely figure of a woman standing next to her, and she cringed inwardly at the sight. The woman standing beside her was full breasted and slender of waist. She was the kind of woman that she usually saw modeling high-end underwear or on the arm of a famous movie star. Her hair was fire-engine red, and the look she wore was easy to interpret: she wanted the bartender. And not just to have him mix her a drink.

Fuck! Carlie thought, taking a second and deeper swig from her beer, feeling her heart dwindle at the sight of the woman and knowing her intent.

“I saw you working here the last time I was here,” said the skinny woman familiarly and with the kind of charm that a whore would use to pick up a guy on a street corner. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

The barkeep kept his smile in place, but there was something… less… about it, Carlie thought. Like he wasn’t all that thrilled to see this woman… like he’d seen her before and didn’t care for what he saw. Somehow, she found that very endearing. “Can I make you a drink, miss?” he asked, his voice only fractionally as hypnotic as it had been a moment before. That was endearing as well.

“Sure…” the skinny bitch asked, her smile as seductive as the rest of her. “And, can I get your phone number while I’m here?” she added, sounding braver than she had a moment before.

Carlie felt like that was her cue to get up and find some corner to disappear into and puke. She’d had bad luck with meeting men before but this instance was a rare occasion all by itself. But before she could so much as stir, the god behind the bar spoke up.

“It’s usually not a good idea to speak like that to a man in front of his wife, miss.”

Carlie froze. Her eyes locked on the god, who kept his gaze fixed on the other woman as if savoring her reaction. She couldn’t blame her.

The skinny girl looked perplexed.

The god looked to her – Carlie – and smiled, indicating whom he had spoken of.

Carlie’s blood felt like it had suddenly caught fire. Oh god… he means me?! It was an outright lie, but Carlie suddenly found that she didn’t mind being caught up in it. If the god said that it was so, then it was. She found a vindictive smile touch her lips.

The skinny girl turned her attention to Carlie, and it was the skinnier woman’s turn to wear a look of confusion. Her mouth dropped open with shock at the sight of her, like she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Carlie struggled to keep from laughing but managed to put a smile on her face. If she could have spoken she might have said, ‘Ha, that’s right bitch… he’s mine.’

“Oh,” the skinny girl said, taking a small step back, the look of embarrassment as pronounced as her breasts.

“Can I make you a drink?” the god asked, his voice full of faux sympathy.

“N-no,” the girl said, taking another step back. “I just… oh, god…” She turned and walked away, not even bothering to look back and melted into the crowd.

Once she and the godly bartender were alone, she looked back to him, feeling her cheeks flush. “Wife?” she asked, her voice almost a squeak.

He smiled, and the full power of the expression returned and when he spoke, so had the mesmerizing tones of his voice. He gave a small shrug. “I’m optimistic.”

Carlie felt her eyes grow wider. This was a dream. It had to be. Men like this didn’t talk to women like her. It just… it didn’t happen. It was like saying that the sun rose in the north every day, it just didn’t fucking happen. And that it should happen to her was even more amazing. Things like this didn’t happen to her… gods never took notice of her. Not ever.

But as she watched him she felt a smile creasing her face. He returned the expression, and it felt like a long time had passed between them until his eyes darted up over her shoulder and into the crowd. A small look of regret grew on his features. “Your friend is coming back, looks like she struck out.”

Carlie looked back over her shoulder and saw Jackie pushing her way through the crowd, looking back over her shoulder as if checking to make sure that no one was following her. There was a look of some panic on her face, and she could sense instantly that the time had come for them to make a speedy exit.

Shit! She has to fuck up now? Now, of all damn times! Dammit!

She turned back to the god behind the bar. “Uh… I… I…”

He held up a hand to silence her. “It’s okay.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He put it on the bar and slid it towards her. “I’ll call you.”

Carlie felt her heart quicken at the gesture, and she looked back up to him, wonder filling her expression. Part of her felt like this was some kind of a joke, but she knew the cell phone on the counter top. It was pricey… too expensive for a bartender to afford. She tried to make sense of it and turn that sense into words, but all that came out was a small string of incoherent words. “Uh… but… what…?”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll see me before you know it,” he added with a wink.

“Carlie!” said Jackie’s voice from behind her.

Reluctantly, she turned to her friend and saw her stepping towards the bar in a rush, a look of anxiety was on her face. “Carlie! We need to go. Now!” she said tersely.

She knew that tone of voice. Jackie had fucked up whatever pick up tricks she had tried to use. It seemed pretty obvious that she had tried to use her wiles on the wrong biker gang member. Even so, she couldn’t believe how horrible Jackie’s timing was this time. She spared a look at her watch and found that Jackie had managed to completely cluster fuck the whole deal in less than ten minutes.

It was a new record.

“But…” Carlie began.

“No questions, dammit, there’s no time. C’mon!” Jackie said, picking her up off of her stool practically thrusting her towards the door.

Carlie turned back to the bar.

The god that had stood there was gone. All the remained was the cell phone, right where he had left it. She didn’t know what it was that drove her to it, but she impulsively scooped up the phone and slipped it into the small purse that she carried. Her eyes sought out the handsome figure that had spoken to her… called her his wife… but she didn’t seem him anywhere. Just like a god to up and vanish when she wanted nothing more than to see him again. And as Jackie towed her anxiously towards the door she found it ironic that for the first time in her life, she thought that Jackie had finally picked a good place for them to visit.

When she woke up in bed the next morning there was a pleasant feeling swirling through her body, and the feeling was palpable, like hot cocoa on a cold day. She was partially tangled in her own sheets, and her apartment was quiet like the world had gone away to leave her alone with her thoughts until she had drifted off to sleep. And it had been a pleasant sleep with thoughts of seductive voices… quiet corners… and the handsome bartender in less than what he had been wearing.

The thought made her blush.

This was unnatural for her. Carlie was no stranger to wild and impure thoughts about men she had just met, but this was the first time that it had felt like such thoughts were easily within her reach.

They are, aren’t they?

It was a difficult question to ask.

She wondered, briefly, if the whole thing had been a dream. Some of it seemed so perfect… so surreal… that it could only have been a dream. A god among men, who had the look of a man who could have had any woman that he wanted, and he’d chosen her. But had he really chosen her? Or was this some kind of a game that men were apt to play? Had the whole thing been in her imagination?

The logical part of her mind told her that it was more than likely. But then she found the cell phone that had been given to her by the handsome god sitting on her bedside table and felt a surge of excitement course through her that warmed her better than hot cocoa ever could. The simple device was proof enough that what she had experienced had been real. Like a god had left her some divine piece of jewelry as proof of the visit to earth.

I got a direct line to a god, she thought with a smirk.

After that, she felt like she was walking on air.

For the rest of her morning everywhere she went, the phone went with her. She showered with the phone on her bathroom counter. She cooked and ate breakfast with the phone sitting on her kitchen table. She dressed with the phone sitting idly on her bed. And when she went to work she put it on silent and slipped it into her back pocket, though it was against hospital regulations.

She waited anxiously for the phone to ring, feeling her heart quicken to unnatural speeds every time she heard an unfamiliar cell phone ring. But every time she checked, she found that the phone had remained silent. And every time she had a break at the hospital in which she worked she would look through the phone, hoping to find some clue as to the identity of the mysterious barkeep that had spoken to her.

God, I don’t even know his name, she thought every time she looked through the phone. Amusingly, she felt happy enough to simply think of him as ‘God.'

Unlike most phones, she found this one to be strangely empty of any of the usual features. There were only a few pictures in it, and regrettably, none of them were of her mystery man. There weren’t even any of people, but of inanimate things. Most of the pictures were of motorcycle parts, there was one of an empty field that stood somewhere on a bluff overlooking the ocean though she could not determine where. There was really nothing revealing in any of it.

She found that the call history was full of blocked numbers, and of all of those that weren’t she recognized them as being from local numbers. She looked those up and found that there was no registry for any of them. In short, there was really nothing that she could use to try and identify the handsome bartender contained in the small device. Nor was there any contact list inside of it… no apps… no voicemails… no texts… there was nothing. He hadn’t even enabled any security features on it, she was free to open and scan it at will without any trouble. The phone remained just as mysterious as its owner.

As the day wore on, she felt some of her excitement beginning to fade. The handsome man had not reached out to her as he’d promised. There was something demoralizing in that. She felt like a child, promised some prized toy or piece of candy for good behavior by an adult that had failed to deliver.

By the end of the day, she felt her heart had whittled some, checking the phone a final time before leaving work and finding that it still had not rung. The feeling took her back to her days in high school when one boy or another had asked her for her phone number, and she spent all of her time staring at the phone and trying to will it to ring, but to no avail.

By the time she returned home, she had set the phone aside and almost forgot about it. Once or twice she gave it a furtive glance and rushed to check it to see if it had rung but found nothing since the last time she had checked it. She felt like a character in all of the old myths that had been visited by a god and left with some token as proof of the visitation only to find that the glittering item seemed to have become dull and faded. Like everything that she had experienced had not been real.

She went to sleep with a heavy heart for it. She tried to imagine the handsome god in her mind once again. And while the image of him lingered perfectly in her mind, she could not hold onto it. It was like watching clouds move in the sky until the shape became unrecognizable and thin until it was gone altogether.

When she woke the next day, she again checked the phone. The only thing that had changed about it was that its battery had gone down to half of its life. She put it on battery-saving mode and went about her usual routine, showering, eating, dressing, and finally making her way to work. She managed to restrain herself from checking the phone constantly and only looked at it the once on the cab ride to her job.

The morning passed as it always did for her. She met with patients, conversed with coworkers, did her paperwork, cleaned instruments and washed her hands, and did as her training bid her to do. She did much of it almost mechanically and always that lingering feeling of depression rested on her shoulders like a yoke that she didn’t care to carry.

Her hopes of seeing the handsome god again began to fade. A disappointed feeling entered into her gut, and she was prepared to resume her life just as if the strange night had never happened. She still had her life and maybe Jackie would want to visit some other place in the near future where she might meet another captivating man such as the godly bartender.

Not likely, she thought with some regret.

The phone rang.

At first, it didn’t even register until she remembered that she had set the device on silent, and the vibrations of it tickled her through her back pocket. When the realization washed over her, she felt her heart go into immediate overdrive as she fumbled for the device. She was thankful that she was alone in a hallway when it did ring and ducked into a secluded corner to answer it.

“Oh, please god,” she thought, praying both for help from the true God and from the one that had given her the phone.

She looked at the screen and found that there was no recognized number on it, but her excitement overcame her caution as she answered.

“Hello?” she asked tentatively.

“I need you to do something for me,” said a hypnotic voice on the other end. She recognized it as her god. “Don’t react to what’s about to happen.”

The line went dead.

She looked at the phone. The call had indeed been disconnected. She stood dumbfounded, staring at the device. She was uncertain about what had just occurred. She knew only that she felt strange. Like she had been in a crowded room and heard someone whisper her name. And when she had turned to see who had spoken, there was no one there.

She felt… cheated.

“What the…?” she wondered aloud.

The PA spoke overhead, and she nearly jumped at its sudden sound.

“Dr. Carlie Kyle, report to J-Ward at once, please. Dr. Carlie Kyle, please report to J-Ward at once,” said the PA system before that too went dead.

She stood, dumbfounded for the second time in half as many minutes.

As she rode the elevator up, she pondered what had just occurred.

That she should be summoned to the tenth floor of the hospital – the J-Ward – was an unusual request. That she should get a strange phone call from the handsome god just before was even stranger. Had he known she would be called up to the tenth floor? He couldn’t have, she thought. Although gods were omnipotent, weren’t they? It should have come as no surprise.

Still, being called up-levels was surprise enough. The tenth floor was well above her usual place on the sixth floor, and she knew enough about the hospital’s politics to know that the tenth floor usually catered to those who valued their privacy and paid handsomely for it. Sometimes it was a movie star undergoing plastic surgery. Sometimes it was a politician being treated for a skin condition. Once or twice she had heard it was a professional athlete being treated for steroid side effects or some such.

Such a thing wasn’t common practice for a hospital, but this was L.A. and people with money and power were able to sweep their influence into the world in one manner or another. It shouldn’t have come as any shock. But that she should be asked to report to such a place was certainly unexpected.

When the elevator doors opened, there was an elderly man with gray hair, a red tie, and a doctor’s lab coat waiting for her. She didn’t know this man, but she could tell from his expensive watch and spit-shined shoes that he was a long time resident of this floor. In his hands, he held a manila folder, and he passed it to her in lieu of a “hello” or “welcome” as soon as the doors clanked open and before she had taken her first step.

“Dr. Kyle,” the elder man said as if he’d known her for her entire professional career. “Dr. Soren, patient relations. Please follow me.”

A short introduction, she thought as she followed the older man. Before she could speak, Dr. Soren began to answer all of her questions.

“The patient asked for you, specifically.”

“Who is it?” she asked the elder doctor as they walked on.

“No idea, I’ve never seen him before. But that doesn’t matter. Confidentiality is a must up here, doctor,” replied the other, almost impatiently. “Speed is second to that. This isn’t the walk-in waiting room up here. If a patient comes in on this floor and asks for someone specific, we oblige as quickly as we can. You can check the file for references to the patient’s disposition if you need,” the older man said.

She took a quick look down at the file in her hands and looked perplexed as they walked. She didn’t even bother to open it but found only a name written on the folder’s label: Damian Crowe. In order for there to be a file on him, he would have had to have come in here before now. She found another question rising into her throat. “You’ve already examined the patient?” she asked curiously.

“His pertinent medical information was sent in ahead of him from a private physician’s office,” the elder man explained. “That means that he has connections, and our board of directors responds very well when we take care of people with friends in the right places. This isn’t the F-Ward, doctor. The people that we treat here don’t come in with scraped knees or sore throats. If they ask for special treatments, we give them. If they ask for sweets on their way out, we ask what flavor. If they ask for a doctor by name, we provide them that doctor. That means you,” he said, bringing her to the door of a private ward. “Now, I don’t know how you know this person, and I don’t care. All that matters is that he asked for you and it’s up to you to put a good face on our service here. So, off you go!” he said with a bright and cheery voice that she knew he did not feel.

And with that, the elder doctor pointed out a single door to her that was marked “Privacy Ward 2” and walked off as if he were an unconcerned parent leaving a child to a day at school.

Carlie stood there with the folder in her hand that was labeled with a man’s name that she had never heard before in her life. She felt as if this was some kind of a joke meant to get a rise out of her, like something she had once experienced in medical school. But the expensive carpets, the fragrance of rose oil, and the fact that there was a pair of waiting chairs in the hall made of oak told her practical jokes were unheard of on this floor. Not when money literally paved the walkways here.

She turned to the ominous door that concealed a patient behind it and blew out a short breath before tentatively reaching for the handle and opening it.

She passed into the private ward and found that it was an anteroom. It was shaped almost like the kitchen of a small apartment with a counter, a small table, a pair of chairs, a sink and even a coffee pot that sat idly on its surface. It was the kind of place where bodyguards, public relations people, or family could wait close by if someone of wealth and privilege was being tended to.

The only thing that looked out of place in the whole of the area was a leather jacket that had been draped over the back of one of the chairs. Sewn onto it were a number of patches that she did not recognize, but the simple garment looked out of place in a setting like this. But there mere sight of it alone made her skin tingle with anticipation.

The phone call… the summons… the jacket… All the signs pointed to the god she had met at the bar. And strangely curious as it all was, the excitement that was simmering inside of her threatened to become a full out boil.

To her left was a second door that was marked “Examination Room”. She took a short breath and walked to it, pushing the door open. She felt a gentle flutter of fear and confusion as she did so but the feeling evaporated the second she passed fully into the next room, leaning on the door for support.

Sitting on the examination bench was her god.

He looked just as she remembered from two days before. His appearance had not changed, save that he wore a white t-shirt underneath his leather vest and the smile that he wore was warm and inviting.

“Hello,” he said with his soft and hypnotic voice. “I think I have a problem, doc.” His smile endured, and his eyes looked her over from head to foot. “A problem that I think only you can cure.”

His words were suggestive, and she caught their meaning without needing to dwell on them. It felt as if he was fucking her already… with his voice. If he could do that, she wondered what the rest of him could do. The feeling made her – to use one of Jackie’s favorite expressions – damp in her panties.

She rolled her eyes excitedly, trying to conceal her emotions. In the course of it, she took in the sight of the rest of the room.

The room itself was possessed of the usual features; a countertop that was covered with small folders details various medical practices, cabinets and drawers filled with medical tools and medicines, and a small stool on which she supposed she could have sat if she liked. And directly behind the god was the L.A. landscape through a floor-to-ceiling window that made her think once again that the man before her was a god looking out for the world that he had created.

She felt her gut flutter with a new sensation.

“D-Damian Crowe?” she asked, almost excitedly.

The god smiled at her. “I like it when you use my first name.”

His voice seemed more hypnotic than before, and as she stood in the doorway of the examination room, she felt her legs trembling lightly. Some part of her mind was reeling from this whole experience… her thoughts… her small fantasies… they all seemed to be overbearing on her now, and she could make no sense of them at all. The part of her brain that had been trained to put logic before emotion warred with itself for control.

“But… how…?” she tried to speak, fumbling the words in her mouth.

“How did I find you?” He asked with an amused arch of an eyebrow. “I G.P.S. tracked your phone,” he explained simply. He got up off of the examination table, and she saw that he stood a little more than an inch or two taller than she. “It’s amazing what you can do with today’s technology. Sorry for not calling you sooner…but I had to see about you.” He took a step towards her.

“W-what?” she asked, feeling her heart accelerate.

“I have to be very careful whom I associate with,” he said, taking another slow and tentative step closer to her. “I tracked my phone while you had it yesterday. I saw that it was here for almost nine hours; that’s how I knew to find you here. After that, it was a simple matter of looking you up in the hospital directory online. Then I tracked the phone back to your apartment.” His smile was alluring, almost commanding her to focus on it. “I see I was right about you being a doctor.”

I would have expected a god to know that, she thought excitedly.

He took another step towards her, coming at arms’ length. “After that, it wasn’t hard to figure out the rest. A good doctor… no ties to any, shall we saw, law enforcement agencies.” He paused. “I was actually very pleased about that.”

She saw through to the subtext of his statement and realized at once what it meant. “Y-you’re some kind of criminal.” It wasn’t a question. And he didn’t seem bothered by it. Oddly, neither was she.

“That’s why I have to be careful,” he said, taking another step closer. “I’m sure you noticed that by the way you looked through my phone… yeah, I was able to tell every time you opened it up.” His tone was pleased, intrigued, even a little excited.

She licked her lips. “So… you waited until today to see me?”

He took a final step until he was standing so close to her that their bodies were very nearly touching. She could almost smell his breath, and it wasn’t the hot and muggy thing that she would have expected from a biker. There was something sweet about it… something alluring… something that was begging to be tasted.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Carlie,” he said. That he used her name so familiarly – and in so profound a statement – made her shudder. Her hands began to tremble. A thing that he seemed to pick up on and slowly he reached up and put one hand over hers, steadying her shaking extremities. His touch was reassuring, powerful, even commanding somehow.

Her eyes wandered down to where his hand had come to rest against hers. The clash of his pale skin against the chocolate tint of hers was oddly exciting. His fingers gently closed around hers, she could feel the power that he commanded within. It felt as if he were somehow bestowing some kind of strength upon her, making her unafraid. She knew – somewhere – in the back of her mind that she should be afraid.

But she wasn’t. She liked it.

This man was a criminal. She had said it, and he had not denied it. The strange phone he’d given her… his calmness at the bar… the manner in which he had tracked her down… all of it was simply screaming something terrible about him. Yet she was unafraid. She felt quite the opposite in fact. She wanted to be closer to him.

Much closer.

As if he were using his omnipotent powers he leaned in closer until his body was pressing lightly against hers. He moved so slowly that she could have counted the very short hairs on his chin from his depleted beard. And when his lips met hers she felt a warm sensation overcome her that would have made hot cocoa on a cold day seem only as warm and filling as a pop tart.

She could taste him… the honey scent was indeed present though she could not divine how it could have come to be there. His lips were just as warm as the rest of him felt, and if she had thought that his words were hypnotic, then his kiss was downright spellbinding.

The simple exchange of their lips lasted only a moment, though she felt it had lasted for eternity. As he pulled away, her body felt lessened for it. She could have gone on forever in such an embrace, simple as it was. That it had to be cut short was disheartening.

“Close the door,” he whispered, “and take your clothes off.”

That’s better.

She dropped the manila folder onto the floor, the papers within scattering across the soft carpeted floor and she closed the door absentmindedly behind her. The god took a step back and immediately her desire was to be closer to him again. But he had not given her the command to do so. And with the door closed now, assuring their privacy, she felt like a privileged mortal-drawn into the temple of a god. In such circumstances all, she could do was obey.

She shrugged her way out of her lab coat and let it fall carelessly to the floor. Her blue scrubs came next. She pulled off her shirt, revealing her large bosom in her black bra. Her private god seemed to feast upon the sight of so much flesh, and he shifted on his feet with anticipation. She was pleased that she could have such an effect on so perfect a man.

She slipped her thumbs into the hem of her scrub trousers and gently wiggled her way out of those, revealing her black panties. Her god’s smile increased. She kicked aside her shoes and stood before him, clad only in her underwear and as though he indeed had cast a spell upon her – maybe he had – she began to wiggle her way out of her panties.

His eyes dropped down to the small patch of pubic hair, and his smile became a full grin. Then they returned up to her as her fingers found the clasp of her bra, unfastening it she shrugged out of the hindering garment before dropping that aside.

She stood before him as bare as the day she was born. Her fingers lightly traced the edges of her hips and breasts. She took her darkened nipples between the tips of her index fingers and thumbs, lightly pinching them, making them hard. Her god looked on as if he were memorizing every curve of her body. No man that she had ever had before now had ever looked at her like that. It was as if he were looking at more than just the shape of her body… it was like he was looking at her.

He began to remove his clothes.

My turn, she thought excitedly.

He pulled off his leather vest slowly, reminding her of a stripper that she had once seen at a friend’s bachelorette party. But this show was entirely for her. She alone could see what he possessed and unlike that show, she knew that she would be free to touch him as much as she wanted. And she had every intention of doing so.

Next came his white t-shirt. He pulled it off slowly, revealing his body inch by delectable inch and she was tickled by the sight of so much muscle. He was better sculpted than she remembered or imagined. His abs looked so firm she could have graded cheese on them. His pecs were full and firm, his shoulders broad, his arms thick and veins protruded from them showing how well he kept his body.

His hands fell to the belt buckle of his pants, and as he unfastened it she felt herself growing damp between her legs once more, and her legs trembled anew. As he pulled down his leather riding pants, she saw that everything south of his waist was just as well built as the rest of him.

His cock was already hard, the veins upon it throbbing with power just like the rest of his body. His legs were thick as tree trunks, his calves and thighs looked like they could have been shaped by nothing less than granite. As he stood before her, naked under the fluorescent lights of the examination room, she thought that there was indeed something godlike about him. The way the light itself seemed to dance on his skin was mesmerizing… like the light itself was afraid to touch him.

He held out a hand, palm up, waiting for her.

She felt her body trembling once again and recalling the image of Adam reaching out to God on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel she reached out for him. Her dark fingers closed around his paler ones, and she felt his power within him. Whether he was a god or not became irrelevant. All that mattered now was the connection between them. This room was her church, and she wanted nothing more than to worship the god that possessed it.

He guided her across the room and much to her excitement he pressed her against the window overlooking the city. The glass was cold as her body flattened against it but she soon forgot the sensation as he pulled her hair aside and began to kiss her neck.

Her hands shot up to the glass, looking for something to grab hold of but her fingers could not find purchase along the sleek surface. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she began to question if this was actually happening or not… that perhaps she was still in the throes of a dream… or maybe she had gone mad… but the light and warm touch of his lips and tongue were reassurance enough that neither was true. This was as real a thing as any science class could have taught her. She could see it… she could touch it… she could taste it… she could smell… and most importantly, she could feel it. And in this one moment, she felt certain that she had indeed found a means to prove that there was a god.

And he was all hers.

He snaked his hands between the glass and cupped her breasts. He wasn’t gentle in his touch… his hands seemed as hungry as his mouth as she turned her neck and allowed his mouth to claim hers. His grip was firm… fierce… like he had never had a woman before in his life. He held her and kneaded her breasts like she was almost being punished for something. There was pain… but it was fleeting… replaced by pleasure. She had never had a man do such a thing for her before in the whole of her life.

His left hand slipped down, finding her crotch and his fingers slipped inside of her. She moaned as he entered her, his fingers just as powerful and thick as his arms and legs. His fingers seemed to hold tremendous power, and she wondered what the rest of him would do once he got inside of her with his cock.

The power that his fingers seemed to hold made her legs quiver and she nearly collapsed under her own weight. But with one of his hands still clenched firmly upon her breast and the other inside of her pussy she felt as though she had been mounted upon some kind of a harness that would not allow gravity to claim her.

Gravity, she thought with an inward chuckle. Gravity – science itself – had no dominion here. This place was ruled by the god in whose embrace she was now locked. Nothing happened here without the leave of the one whom she now worshiped, and that was completely fine with her.

Her god was the one that had claimed her and nothing else could bear control over her. Her body was his to mold and use as he saw fit.

And he saw fit to spin her around, pulling his fingers out from the inside of her and putting her back against the glass. He kissed her so fiercely that it hurt, taking hold of her hands at the wrist he pressed her hands up above her head on the glass. Her fingers wriggled, trying to find something to grab a hold of and finding nothing but air. She tried to struggle against his grip, wanting to run her fingers through his hair, but his power was overwhelming, making her helpless and her simple efforts to touch him futile. She began to understand how a worm on a hook must have felt.

He dropped to his knees, freeing her wrists, and cradled his face between her breasts. Once more his hands took hold of her bosom and massaged them with the kind of fervor that she might have expected to find in a teenage boy with his first girl.

Her hands finally freed, massaged his scalp. His short brown hair tickled her fingers as his lips, and tongue explored her tits. He took as much of her left breast into his mouth as he could, sucking it. The sensations sent tsunamis of electric shock up and down her body. She moaned under the use of his tongue and lips, wanting more, so much more.

Again, as if he heard her silently praying, he obliged.

He hooked his arms under her legs and lifted her from off the floor. Her body remained pressed against the window as she was lifted above the floor until her hands were able to rest flatly on the ceiling.

He nestled his face in her crotch and slipped his tongue inside of her. A ravenous grunt left his lips as he dove in and all she could do to keep from screaming with the pleasure of it was to form a fist and shove it as far as she could into her mouth. Her cry was muffled, but she felt certain that if someone just happened to be passing in the hall outside that they might have heard her. But if anyone did hear her, there was no sign of it. She felt assured recalling that this was a privacy ward after all.

His depleted beard tickled her on the outside while his tongue expertly probed her within. He could have been a doctor himself, he knew all of the right places to touch and tease her, knowing what results they would produce. Her labia… her mons… her clit… he touched them all reducing her to jelly at every turn.

She felt halfway to Heaven already.

It was not lost on her that their combined body weight, pressed against the glass as it was, could shatter the simple pane of transparent material, and it would be a ten story fall to their deaths. But it didn’t matter… she would die a fulfilled woman if it came to that. She would die in the embrace of a god and in the throes of a more deeply rich experience than any religion could have taught her.

Without warning, the god freed his mouth and dropped her. She almost yelped as she fell freely downward though he caught her in his muscular arms as though she weighed very little at all. His power was impressive, even in that.

She chuckled that the feeling of the small taste of gravity had left in her belly, but the sound was replaced by a second moan as he thrust her upon the floor. The carpet was soft and accommodating as he put her back flatly on the floor and spread her legs.

Wordlessly he put his cock inside of her and his delighted moan matched hers. Her fingers found his chest as he braced himself upright on the floor as if he were doing pushups. Her fingers lightly combed over his body, barely touching him, plowing invisible rows up and down his torso as he began to thrust inside of her.

She felt his power rising. The heat in the room had magnified a hundred fold, and she felt beads of sweat already beginning to form on her body. She shut her eyes, feeling downed in the swirl of emotion that was coursing through her.

The power he had between his legs was greater than the simple energies she had sampled already. His warmth threatened to cook her both inside and out, but she could not bear the thought of being away from him. Not now… not ever. This warmth was like a furnace that every stroke of his cock within her seemed to be stoking to higher and higher levels. The furnace was enough to melt her so that he could make her into whatever he wanted.

She welcomed the metamorphosis. Her body was turned to molten metal, and he was free to reshape her as he wanted. And every plunge of his body against hers was like a hammer stroke that was making her into something better and silently she begged him not to stop. She wanted every part of his body touching every part of hers. She wanted this mutual fire that they were building to consume them both.

Together their bodies formed a mutual rhythm. His grunts matched her moans. He took her hands in his own, pressing her against the floor. Her fingers clenched so tightly around his that it hurt. He bent in and kissed her. She hooked her legs over the backs of his knees. The smell of their mutual musk permeated the air, filling her up like strong liquor.

“Are you close?” he whispered amidst their passions.

She didn’t have the courage to tell him that she had already come several times. His power was truly remarkable. But all she could do to savor the moment was nod wordlessly. She was ready again… she wanted it again… and she wanted it badly.

His body tensed. His grip on her fingers tightened. She firmed the grip of her legs against his more tightly than before, preparing for the final hammer strokes of his body.

His thrusts increased in power. She could feel him plunging to new depths inside of her. She arched her back and the sensation increased, sending shortwaves of madness up her body until they swirled like a tidal pool in her mind. She lost all sense of reason, her higher brain function became lost, and all she could consciously perceive was the feelings below her belt.

It felt as if there was indeed some furnace lying atop her. Like it was glowing red hot from so much heat contained within. But she had the protection of a god and the heat, and the searing metal could not harm her. Simply by laying there, she felt as if she were daring that overheated metal to try and do her bodily harm. But the flaming metal could not come within a sight of damaging her, for she was beyond such things. Transported to a place where nothing, save for the grandest powers of pleasure, could reach her.

The heat began to build.

She moaned softly.

His grunts intensified.

She moaned slightly louder.

His thrusts quickened.

She gripped her fingers around his as tightly as she could.

He thrust his tongue into her mouth and with their bodies pressed against each other, so firmly, she could feel every last muscle within him tightening. The heat had reached its apex… the furnace was about to explode.

It did.

The rush of warmth that raced through her felt as if she had been filled with honest molten metal. She could feel that warmth coursing through her, spreading through her veins, permeating her organs, seeping into her flesh, and finally flooding her mind.

The chill that swept over her following it seemed almost unfair. It had cooled her body before she felt that she had fully enjoyed the sensation that the god had left her with. The cool air of the examination room crept back to her senses as the god untangled himself from her and rose to his feet.

Slowly the reality of what she had done began to make its way back into her perceptions. And the gravity of it all seemed to have pulled her back down from the heights of heaven and back onto the earthly plain with the rest of the mortals.

Oh god… she realized. I had sex with a patient.

Under normal circumstances, she supposed that she should have been worried. But she did not feel the sting of fear. All she felt was… fulfillment.

“Thanks, doc,” the god said as he began to redress himself. “I feel much better.”

She pushed herself up onto her elbows and felt the tickle of weakness in them. Her strength felt sapped, but she found enough energy within her to speak. “That’s it?”

He turned to face her, his torso gleaming with sweat. He smiled down at her. “Yeah… at least it is until next week. I’ll need a follow-up exam, I’m sure.”

She smiled back at him.

“Can’t keep you here too long,” he added, picking up his shirt. “People might get suspicious.”

She felt an idea form in her mind. “You know where I live… you could visit me there,” she said suggestively.

He chuckled. “I know your building, hon. Your doorman would never let me in. It’s easier to get in here than it would be there.” He pulled on his shirt and picked up his vest.

A thought sailed across her mind. An unanswered question spawned from it. “How did you get in here?” She licked her lips, nervously this time. “I mean… you don’t look like the kind of guy that could just walk in here without having some wheels to grease.”

He chuckled at the comment. “You’re gorgeous and smart. That’s a good combination.”

She waited for him to answer her question.

“The Open Road,” he said simply.

She felt her brow furrow. “The bar where we met?”

He nodded. “I own it.”

She felt a tickle of embarrassment race up her spine. She recalled the things that she had said about the bar the night they had met. It had never even occurred to her that she had been addressing the owner of the bar when she made her not-so-polite comments.

“Uh… but…” she stammered.

“The Gods of Asphalt,” he said again as if that was explanation enough.

She froze. “What about them?”

He fastened the buttons on his vest. “I’m their leader.”

The words felt harder than any hammer stroke he could have delivered to her and Carlie felt like she could have passed out from the shock of it all right then and there. Not only had she fucked a patient and a criminal… but apparently, she had fucked a rich and powerful criminal at that.

He stepped to her and bent over just enough to kiss her. He rose up and smiled down at her. “You’d better get dressed, hon. It’ll look suspicious if I walk out of here ten minutes before you.”

She did as he commanded.

As the weeks went by Carlie found herself becoming more and more attached to the idea of pronging a gang leader while at work. The wonderful thing about J-Ward, she quickly learned, was that no one asked any questions, and the paperwork was minimal. When filling out forms for each of her god’s visits, she would simply site “Physical Therapy” as the reason for his visit. If anyone thought that this was peculiar because she wasn’t a physical therapist, no one said anything.

Once – sometimes twice a week – her god would come by. Sometimes he did so under the pretense that his body was aching, and he needed to see her immediately. And as soon as they were alone and she was wrapped up in his arms he would claim to be feeling better.

Sometimes he would drop by unexpectedly and surprise her, and she welcomed his visits. Their passions would consume them, though regrettably for only a short while of every time he came to see her.

“We can’t risk anyone getting suspicious,” was all he would say. Carlie found it nothing short of sweet that he was thinking of her career.

So their trysts were kept short, lasting anywhere from twenty minutes to half an hour at a time. But it was time well spent in her opinion. When he arrived complaining that he was in pain – which he was able to do only sparsely – they were able to extend their time into an hour. She sometimes prayed that he would visit her complaining of pain simply for that.

It was the time that she lived for.

It wasn’t until nearly eight weeks later that Jackie had gotten the sudden urge to want another outing to someplace dangerous.

“The Open Road,” Carlie said with much enthusiasm.

“What?!” Jackie asked, her eyes going wide. “You mean…?”

“Yes,” Carlie said, feeling adamant about it, “the place where the Gods of Asphalt hang out. We’re going there tonight.”

Jackie shook her head. “Carlie… don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“Yeah… you fucked up. But don’t worry. I know a guy inside. We’ll be okay.” And with that, she felt certain that her best friend wouldn’t quarrel about their destination tonight. Even as she had spoken – with a firmness that Jackie had never heard her use before – she was positive that Jackie wouldn’t argue. She – Carlie – had decided where they were going. There was no other room for debate in it.

Jackie looked nervous on the whole drive out, and Carlie couldn’t help but feel her excitement building within her. It would be the first time that she would see Damian – she still liked to think of him as her personal god – outside of the hospital. There was something alluring about seeing him again in the place where they had first met.

“Carlie… let’s go someplace else,” Jackie said feebly as they parked.

Without giving her friend a chance to react, Carlie reached over and plucked the keys from the ignition of Jackie’s car and dropped them down the front of her dress. She smiled vindictively at her friend, happy to use one of her own tricks against her. “Come on, where’s your spine?” she asked with a delighted grin as she got up out of the car.

The bar was just as busy as it had been the last time that they had been here and with the same blend of characters. Bikers of traditional and newfound styles congregated at all of the diversions that the bar offered. But unlike last time, Carlie found that she was unafraid of anyone in here. She had the protection of the best kind.

And she saw him, standing behind the bar and casually mixing drinks for impatient customers. She thought it was sweet, seeing him like that. Part of her wondered briefly how all of the patrons of this bar – his bar – could simply ask for drinks and not realize that they were in the presence of a god.

Her god.

The idea sent excited shivers up her spine.

“Uh, Carlie?” Jackie whispered into her ear.

“Go find yourself a dark corner to hide in,” Carlie replied to her friend, knowing what it was that upset her about being here again. “I have some business to attend to.” She didn’t give a look back to Jackie as she pushed her way up to the bar.

He saw her coming just before she reached the elevated counter and he smiled broadly at her. The look was appealing… enticing… almost like he wanted her here and now on the counter in view of everyone else.

She sat on the stool facing him and smiled at him. “Hello, husband.”

He smiled back. “Hello, wife.” He licked his lips. “Something to drink?”

She shook her head. “No… I’d better not.”

He arched a curious eyebrow, but there was something knowing in his voice. It was something that tickled her, just like his voice was always apt to do. “Oh? And why not?”

She answered by gently touching a hand to her belly.

His smile increased like he was about to implode from pride. Just as she had been able to see through the subtext of his words he was able to see through the gesture to its underlying meaning.

He looked like he was halfway to heaven at this realization. About time, she thought, thinking of all of the past times it had been he that sent her to new heights of pleasure. He even looked tempted to jump over the bar and embrace, but he managed to keep himself under control. Barely, from the look of it.

“How long?” he asked.

She smiled back. “Eight weeks.”

He nodded approvingly. “So… from that first time?”

She nodded. She had never had any doubts.

His smile was filled with delight in a manner that she had never seen him in before. He set his bar towel down the counter and whispered to her, “Wait here for one minute.”

She obeyed and watched as he found another of the bartenders and whispered something into their ear that she could not hear. Then he returned to her quickly, rounding the bar and taking her hand in his. “Are you here with your friend?”

She nodded.

“Give her the car keys back,” her god said. “You’re with me tonight.”

Carlie didn’t have to look far to find Jackie huddled in a corner and trying very hard to be invisible to everyone around her. Carlie found it sort of poetic that it was finally she – not Jackie – that was having a successful outing and that her slimmer and more petite friend was cowering and hidden away.

“I’ll find my own way home,” she said to Jackie as her god took her hand and quickly pulled her from out of the bar. The look on Jackie’s face when she saw who was holding her hand was priceless.

Her god brought her to a motorcycle that was parked very near the entrance to the bar. He climbed on, and she climbed on after him. He kicked the engine into life, and the roar of it tickled her.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He looked at her over his shoulder. “It’s an open road. Does it really matter?”

It was a simple question. And one that she found she didn’t mind if she couldn’t answer. She shook her head. “No. It doesn’t.”

He paused just long enough to give her a kiss and then he switched on his headlight and with the roar of the heavy bike beneath them they sped off of the dirt parking lot and onto the open pavement of the road. It wasn’t long before the noise of the bar vanished distantly behind them.