Even though she had been playing for years, Olivia struggled to carry around her cello. She popped the trunk on her little Honda and heaved her instrument into the back as carefully as she could. Her dad had worked two jobs to pay for her cello, and she would be devastated if anything happened to it.
The little car’s engine sprang to life and Olivia peeled out of her driveway, late for her lesson. Her instructor, Mr. Tunbridge, was a tyrant and Olivia needed to stay on his good side. Only the best students were chosen to audition for the city’s orchestra, a stepping stone to Olivia’s dream - to play First Chair in the Chicago symphony orchestra. Mr. Tunbridge held the coveted audition spots over his student’s heads. There were rumors that you could do ‘favors’ to get a recommendation letter for the audition selection committee. Olivia didn’t know if she believed these stories, and while he was creepy and a tyrant of a teacher, he had never been inappropriate with her. She chalked those stories up as wives’ tales, created by jaded students.
“Darn it,” Olivia muttered under her breath when the gas light came on.
Come on dad, seriously? Her dad always borrowed her car and returned it on fumes. Stopping to get gas was going to make her late for sure. Tears of frustration welled up in Olivia’s eyes as she signalled to get off the highway and turned into the gas station. She sighed in relief when she saw that there was one free pump. She could easily pump in ten bucks’ worth of gas really fast and be on her way.
She shut off the car and clicked out of her seat belt, ready for fast gas pumping action. As she grabbed the pump, a motorcycle screamed into the station, one of those crotch rockets. It was obnoxious, colorful, and whiny sounding. Its leather-clad rider jumped off and grabbed the pump out of Olivia’s hand.
“Thank you.” The rider said snidely, his voice muffled through his helmet.
“Please, I’m in a hurry” Olivia pleaded.
The obnoxious rider turned his back to her and shoved the nozzle into his bike. Olivia shook with fury and anger, but didn’t know what to do.
“Excuse me, Miss.”
Olivia jumped at the deep voice that sounded out behind her. She turned to face a wall of a man on a mission. He strode past her and tapped the crotch rocket man on the shoulder. The small biker turned ready for a confrontation but recoiled when he saw the man who had interrupted his fill up. She couldn’t hear what the big man in the black leather vest said to him, but the little white leather-clad man nodded several times and held his hands up in front of him like he was in a stickup.
The huge bearded man removed the pump from the crotch rocket, and wordlessly, walked to Olivia’s car and shoved the pump into her gas tank.
“Get in the car.” He growled to Olivia and nodded at the door.
Olivia scrambled into the driver’s seat, feeling thankful and scared at the same time. ‘Why was he doing this for her? What would she owe him?’ she wondered to herself.
He was big and scary looking. The Brass Bonds logo was stitched onto the back of his vest. She had heard of the Brass Bonds, and everything she had heard about them was bad with a capital B. As she studied him in her mirror, she found herself admiring his tanned forearms. He leaned against her car with one foot up on the curb, his boot tapping to an invisible beat. He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt under his leather vest, and he towered over her little car. His thick bicep flexed as he held onto the gas pump with his black gloved hand. Olivia couldn’t stop looking at him. His face was tanned, his cheeks chiseled and covered in light freckles. His long blonde hair splayed out messily from under his flat-brimmed baseball hat. At first, Olivia had guessed the man was in his thirties, but after her mirror stare session, she could see the youth in his face. She estimated that he was in his early twenties.
He tapped the pump and hung it up. Olivia snapped out of her reverie and pretended to be avidly searching for something in her purse. He rapped on the window, and even though she knew that he was there, she still jumped. She wasn’t jittery out of fear though, this was something else, something new. Lust.
She cranked down her window and he leaned down and took off his black sunglasses to meet her gaze. His eyes were a crystal blue and she felt like they pierced right through her.
“All full.”
“How much?” Olivia stammered.
“Oh, don’t you worry beautiful. It’s on that douchebag” he smirked and pointed at the man in leather.
Before Olivia could say anything further, the young biker walked away, slapped the white leather man hard on the back, and mounted his Harley. It roared to life. As he passed Olivia, he nodded his head and tipped his hat at her.
Olivia wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans, started up her car, shakily put it in gear, and drove off.
She’d had lots of crushes before, all of them had been on cute nerdy guys at music school. They were all clean cut, and usually percussionists. She focused on her music, and regretfully, never acted on her crushes. Now she was embarrassed to be a virgin at twenty-one. She felt like her time to be young and wild was over, and it had never even started.
The strange butterfly feeling in her lower abdomen was new to her. Her whole body was shaky and coursed with adrenaline from her encounter with the biker. It was as though her sexuality had just woken up from a long slumber and was hungry. She adjusted herself in her seat and felt the wetness in her panties. She smiled, but then was overcome with sadness. She would never see that hot biker again, she didn’t even get his name.