Grumbler's Ride: Satan's Devils MC San Diego #2

me at first, then found I was playing for her instead. It had been impossible to miss the effect it had on her, the way she’d so delightfully flushed when she watched my musician’s fingers moving so fast, plucking at those strings in the way I’ve perfected in more than four decades. I’d suppressed my smirk, but her reaction had taken me back to those long-ago days when I’d been on stage, thrusting my hips, playing my guitar slung low, knowing many of the girls were wishing it was them my fingers were strumming instead. Even as a teen I was never short of someone to warm my bed, or allow me a quickie against a back wall of whatever club we were playing in. Of course, I allowed my fingers to do the work first, only then giving them my dick and finding my own pleasure. A woman, in my book, always comes first.

Then I’d seen the horror of life when I had served. I grew up, I had to. Learned there was more to life than following my dreams and getting off, that there was a real world and I had to join it. My guitar lay forgotten, untouched in its case for many years. I joined the MC, prospected, worked my fucking socks off to earn my patch. I threw myself into the life and the brotherhood, and found a new reason for living, my cherished bike. For years, she’d been my sole mistress, but my music still called.

When I bought my house, well, it seemed the adult thing to do and preparation for a time I might not be able to ride, and hence not be in the MC any longer, I got my guitar out of storage. I was rusty at first, but it soon came back, and so did the pleasure I got from playing music.

Alicia said I should be in a band. I’m far too old to strut my stuff on stage now, but about the time the business blew up with Snake in the club, meeting Fagan had come at the right time. Jamming had given me an outlet, a way to escape from the other crap in my head. I still joined them occasionally, just playing for ourselves. Both had tried to make it in the music business for a while, but never made their mark. Money had to be earned, so they went citizen ways. Jon Boy was a carpenter, and a good one. I’d gotten him in to do much-needed work at my house. Fagan? Well he was a truck driver.

My MC brothers have no inkling what I do on those rare evenings I meet up with them, and recently with Kurt, another old-timer who’s a fuckin’ good bassist. It’s a secret I keep for myself. But now I feel my past slamming into my future, knowing I’d like Mary to come see us rehearse, see me play for real on one of my electric guitars and not an acoustic.

When Alicia had asked me to teach her, I knew if I said yes, I’d be making a commitment. She’s had too many broken promises for me to add one more. It means, even after we’ve destroyed the evidence of what Owen had done, and Devon is taken out of the picture, Mary and Alicia will still be in my life.

I find the thought isn’t at all unappealing. Though previously I had doubts, maybe I could find time for the right woman in my life. Maybe even have her riding up behind me on my baby. What previously had been a sacrilegious thought, I can see me adding a pillion seat, even a sissy bar to keep Mary safe.

Perhaps she wouldn’t want to ride with me?

I suspect that she will. Mary’s got a devil streak in her. I don’t know how, but I’m sure of that.

Suddenly I realise while I’ve been lost in my reverie, Mary’s been going through her nightly routine, taking out her glass and my empty bottle, checking the windows are locked and that the alarm on the door is set.

She pats me on the shoulder, saying softly, “Come in when you’re ready.”

I stay where I am, giving her time to get decent. Or at least, how she expects she’ll be spending the night. My plan is to get her naked, but I know she’s got to be at ease first.

When I think I’ve given her long enough, I get up from the chair, move the guitar from the place where I left it and settle it safely back on its stand. Then, I switch off the light and proceed to her bedroom, tossing her a wink before I enter her bathroom and do what a man does before going to bed. I take off my t-shirt and toss it onto her hamper, just leaving it there ready for the morning. Then, I replace my cut over my bare shoulders. I might be getting an old man’s body, but I work out, particularly since my accident, and know I still look fit. I’ve learned a thing or two over the years that two things can do it for a woman.

She’s already seen the tattoos on my arms so she’s not going to freak out at the rest of my ink. Now she’ll see them framed in all their glory, and covered by my cut with the sergeant-at-arms patch in pride of place, shows me off nicely.

As a touching finish, I unbutton the top two buttons on my jeans, allowing them to settle on my hips, drawing attention to the defined V I’ve got going for me. Yeah, I can be a sneaky fucker at times.

Of course, she might just roll over and go to sleep, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion my looks will do it for me. I’m going to have Mary tonight, fuck that her daughter’s sleeping nearby, and she’ll just have to be quiet.

I gaze in the mirror, for a moment seeing in my reflection