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‘Baby, it’s only temporary,’ he had replied. ‘And you’re going to be getting a much, much better space when this is all finished.’
‘Better than a bathroom?’ she’d joked. ‘Impossible.’
The bar itself was, by this time, almost unrecognizable. Wolf had decided to keep things traditional — or at least traditional by biker bar standards — and a big part of that was maintaining a patina of wear and tear on practically every item in the space.
Gone were the retro, seventies-style, neon and black booths, replaced by something much more retro and, if you squinted in just the right way, in just the right light, almost hip-looking. It was all second-hand, picked out from thrift stores around the city, as well as — of course — eBay. Sophia had helped to some degree, giving gentle suggestions about the style of item that might be appropriate for the space.
The new bar furniture was designed tolooklike the shabby, comfortable style of décor you might see in a biker bar of years gone by. The seats were scuffed, cracked leather, the tables pre-used mahogany, and the detailing was somewhere between a log cabin and a garage.
Wolf had taken some items from Baron’s forest environment — stag skulls and a buckskin and even an old hunting rifle, mounted in a plaque, high above the reach of any overly-sloshed patrons.
Pride of place, though, suspended from the ceiling by cables which Wolf swore were safe, was an immaculately presented and maintained Harley Davidson Knucklehead. It was a bike which Rainer had donated to the bar as a house-warming gift.
‘Can’t quite believe I’m letting you hang twenty grand’s worth of vintage Harley from the damn ceiling.’ He’d said as he’d watched the guys suspend the bike. ‘Having said that, it’s not even close to the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.’
‘Why? What’s the dumbest thing?’ asked Molly slyly, as she watched Baron work with a look of pride and fear on her face.
‘Ask me again later,’ Rainer replied. ‘If that bike ends up in pieces on the floor, I might have an updated answer for you.’
Luckily for everyone involved, the bike hadn’t crashed down to the floor and exploded into a million pieces. Yet. A 1947, bright blue Knucklehead. Sophia didn’t know much about bikes, but she sure was learning. The iconic machine complemented the rest of the vibe of the bar perfectly, and it was an amazing conversation piece for everyone who drank in here.
In truth, this place was shaping up to be a great bar in general — not just a place for rough bikers. That’s what Wolf was after — he wanted The Drifters to be part of the community in New York. Unusually for an MC, the organization wanted to integrate and protect, not intimidate and exploit.
Sophia looked up at the Knucklehead now, as she carefully carried the stuffie she was working on — an original Steiff bear from the early 1930s — into her new workspace.
You couldn’t really call it an office — not yet at least. The plasterboard in the room was still bare, and there were exposed wires and pipes that hadn’t been hidden by the workmen just yet. Even so, it felt good to be working somewhere that wasn’t technically a glorified toilet.
‘I’m gonna get this place finished as soon as I can,’ Wolf promised, arms crossed, as Sophia surveyed it.
‘Hey, I get a window!’ she said, eyes lighting up with excitement. True, it wasn’t the biggest window in the world, but it sure beat staring into the chipped porcelain bowl of an ancient toilet as she worked.
‘I thought you’d like that,’ Wolf said, grinning.
Oh, that grin. She knew that grin intimately now. She knew how it felt to have his lips pushed against her pussy and to feel a smile break across that face. She knew how his body changed when he smiled. Yes — that smile, and its owner, was an extension of herself.
They hadn’t had sex, not yet — although they’d done everything but.
Last night, she’d drizzled oil on her lover’s cock as he’d slid it between the slick mounds of her breasts, the tip prodding her pink mouth, his balls smooshed against her stomach.
Sophia was building up a bank of memories, of experiences, which made her warm and fuzzy to think about without fail. Every time she pushed her Daddy and asked him when it would be the right time, he’d always reply, ‘We’ll know when we know.’
She liked that.
We’ll know when we know.
It was how she was starting to feel about Wolf — a brand new feeling that she’d never experienced before. Now though, she knew.
So sheknew.
‘Hey,’ Wolf said, his voice suddenly loaded with suspicion. ‘I know that look.’
‘What?’ Sophia said, trying to sound innocent and confused.
‘What thoughts are going through that dirty mind of yours?’
‘Daddy!’ she said, making a big show of being shocked by the question. ‘How could you ever think I’d be thinking dirty thoughts?’
He took her in his arms and practically growled. ‘Because, Sophia Ragusa, I’ve gotten to know you pretty damn well. And I know that when your eyes glaze over and your lip starts to tremble y—’
