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“Damn. Deep question for this early in the shift.” I give her a wink. But I do take the question seriously and attempt my best answer, even if I have to think about it for a while. Because it really is a damn good question.
Anyone who claims to know HFL is aware that every member is a bit rough around the edges. Coty especially. Or, well, anyone who thinks they know HFL. As for me, I have a different opinion entirely. Let everyone else think what they want. Put that fear in them.
I blow out a raspberry from between my lips. “Honestly… I think I just got lucky. Coty is dangerous. You know? He has it in him. I keep my distance, though. Kinda. Hell, I don’t know… Shit, girl. It’s complicated.”
She laughs. A real laugh. “I wish I had those sorts of complications.”
A stream of light falls over us as one of the doormen lets in the patrons waiting to enter. Men in cuts immediately fill the space. Some with cuts that make other patrons give them a wide berth. Others, simply part of basic riding clubs. We get a bit of it all this time of year. Jess and I love Bike Week. This is when we make most of our money. There’s just something about motorcyclists we connect with. Most of the dancers have other kinks: college breakers, older customers, military, big guys.
For Jess and me, we gravitate toward men with horsepower between their legs. We both still get regulars and a variety of other customers during Bike Week, but those numbers tend to lessen in favor of bikers… and those who are brave enough to join them.
Jess’s hand tightens around my wrist, and I pull to a stop. Her eyes glance toward the front then back to me. “Speaking of complications.” My focus hones in on the outline in front of the blazing sun. It takes the door closing at his back and my eyes adjusting for me to see who Jess is talking about.
