The biker stepped into the trailer slowly and painfully, his arm and chest bleeding profusely. Outside he could hear his new “friend” as she rolled his bike into the shed.
“Everything ok, lover? “The woman asked as she came in.
“It’s bullshit that I’m being chased. They rob my house, trash my stuff, and when
I start to defend myself suddenly I’m the bad guy? Now I’m being hunted by almost everyone and living on the run!”
As he sat on the couch, he reflected further. He tried not to show that the plastic tarp meant for the couch―now on the floor―bugged him, really bugged him. He was tempted to tell his only remaining friend that putting a flowered shower curtain over an ugly couch looked fucking stupid. He couldn’t afford to piss her off right now, though.
She was the only friend he had left in the world, and he needed a place to hide.
“I suppose the argument could be made that the police did have a no-knock warrant and that the five guys in your old place were all armed,” she said as she brought him a large bottle of cheap whisky.
“Yeah, but the media was reporting assault weapons. They were only AR15s and not even fully automatic. The cops had the assault weapons, and they opened fire before my men even got a chance to finish raising theirs,” he replied.
“And the lab is ruined. What kind of half assed cops throw a flash bang into a meth lab? Didn’t they realize that things in there go boom? The cop that was killed in the explosion should be the one charged with murder, not me.” After taking a long pull off the bottle, he added, “You know, thanks to the cops, the price of meth is going up, another example of the government hurting the poor and screwing the little people.”
“You’re such a humanitarian,” she said.
“Evading the cops and dodging almost all of the gunfire while screaming down the road on my bike was tricky. They should drop all the charges just for that. As for the deputy, if he had dove out of the way and not tried to shoot me he wouldn’t have got shot in the head. It was self-defense damn it,” the biker added explosively.
“But nobody sees it that way. They won’t see the entrepreneur employing many people around the city in jobs from chemical engineering, to distribution, to security, and collection services. They’ll see an asshole biker that killed two cops during a meth lab raid,” he added bitterly.
As he spoke, she began retrieving several books from the table and putting them away in another room. He looked with curiosity at the last book, Rakasha: Legend of the Hindi Tiger Demon. He turned the book over and read the blurb on the back cover. The last part caught his attention: “… with a bite that is powerfully addicting.”
Great. He knew she was an illegal alien, but he had hoped she was Mexican.
Maybe with a big family and lots of contacts she could use to hide him. But she must be from “Hindi.” While he didn’t know exactly where the hell that was, it didn’t sound close.
He looked at his new and only friend. She was tall, had jet black hair, brown skin, and cat like features. He had met her before a few times and hoped she would be cool about him being here. Finding her in the usual dive was a divine sign that his luck had changed. All his other contacts and coworkers were in jail or on the run like him.
When the government fucks an operation, they do it good.
“It’s okay. I saw the news and I don’t mind your hiding out here. In fact, I would say it’s almost karma. This trailer is built over an old WWI bunker. It is below the surface about thirty feet. It’s made of concrete and thick. No one will ever find it or you while you are down there,” the woman said. Her calming seductive tone washed over him.
“Did you tell any of your friends where you were hiding?” She asked that with a sidelong glance.
“I can’t get a hold of any of my crew. I didn’t have time to grab my phone. By now the cops are running the numbers and grabbing everyone on my call list,” the biker said with a moan.
“It looks like your arm is hurt. Let’s remove your coat and take a look.”
The biker took another long pull from the whiskey bottle. He had been shot before, and it hurt like a mother every single time.
As the woman pulled his shirt back, it was apparent that the bullet had passed through his bicep and bounced off of his ribs. While there was an impressive amount of blood and pain, it was also clear he wouldn’t need a hospital.
“Do you think the police followed you here? Maybe by a helicopter, or drone or something?”
“Not a chance. The helicopter was still pointed at the house when I started to ride. I dodged the road blocks and never picked up a tail. The cops have no idea where I am.”
The woman smiled and gave him a look that he couldn’t really explain. It reminded him of the look a cat got when it stared into the canary’s cage.
“You know, I can make you feel so much better with my tongue,” she purred.
“Tempting offer, but I don’t think this is the time or place. My mood is off. It’s hard to appreciate a good blowjob when your million-dollar-a-week meth operation gets shit-canned by some dickhead informant.”
The woman purred. It was not just a human making a cat sound, but an honest to
God, deep rumbling purr like a tiger would make.
“You misunderstand the offer lover,” she said sliding her dress down to reveal her toned naked body.
The biker smiled. She was built. Even the strange striped tattoo that ran down her chest and back did nothing to distract from her overall beauty.
She flipped her hair as she stood slightly hunched. It was a strange pose, that didn’t jibe with the raw sex that the rest of her body conveyed.
The woman leaned in and kissed him. It was intoxicating. The biker’s mouth tingled from the contact. Her incisor poked through his tongue like a piercing needle as she bit him. Even the taste of blood flooding his mouth was a pleasure beyond words.
He looked deep into her slit cat eyes. They were the deepest green he had ever seen.
She licked at the wound on his arm. Suddenly the bleeding stopped; the pain was replaced by a euphoric high. This was better than the time he mixed coke, meth, and weed.
He looked up in a stupor. She licked his palm. Then she sank her teeth into fleshy part of his hand. The pain was more of sweet sensation than one of agony.
He reveled in the orgasmic sensation that rippled through his body as each finger was removed with a single powerful bite. The crunching sound as she gnawed them was like nothing he had ever heard before. She spit his finger bones onto the floor.
“Oh she’s a spitter,” he thought with a degree of disappointment.
The ecstasy continued as she devoured his arm. The sight of his bones covered with just the thinnest of meat confused him, but only slightly.
As she broke the forearm bones, and sucked out the marrow, the biker tried to remember when he felt this good. He should have let someone do this to him long ago.
She removed his pants swiftly and took a bite from his thigh. Her blood drenched face excited him even more. Of all the female faces he had covered with fluids, she was the most beautiful. He was in love, and knew right then he was to spend the rest of his life with this woman.
She led him to a closet where she removed a panel in the floor. She tied a rope around his chest.
“I’m going to lower you down to the pit lover, but don’t worry. We will have more fun in a few days when I get hungry again.”
As he was lowered down the crude shaft into the bunker, he couldn’t help but wonder how long before their next date.