He stepped into the chilly night, the clean air a welcome change for his abused lungs after the stuffy confines of the tavern. To counter the shocking effects of pure oxygen, he fumbled in his jacket pocket for the crumpled pack of Luckys. He pulled out a bent but unbroken smoke and fired up the Zippo lighter, reveling in the slight petroleum flavor it lent to the harsh tobacco. He pulled the smoke deep into his lungs, expelling it in a curse.

"Fucker!" he hissed, his eyes lighting on the spanking new Dyna gleaming under the streetlight. He fought the urge to kick the bike over. How could he have let the bastard take him for so much at the table? Shit, he should be walking out with a pocket full of cash, not some smart ass Valley RUB. He lifted his foot to knock the bike from its stand. Serve the bastard right and he had the money to fix it now. But he couldn't bring himself to intentionally damage the sleek machine. It wasn't the bike's fault that her rider was a total asshole.

Looking over the smooth, graceful curves of the bike, he couldn't help but think of Dee -- she hadn't been at the bastard's side tonight. Home all alone? Hell, that would be payback in spades. He chuckled at the thought. One night with him and she'd be throwing rocks at the bastard. The chuckle turned into a devious laugh. He flicked the cigarette into the gutter and headed for his own bike.

Straddling the Softail, he thumbed the ignition, still chuckling. He knew the bastard would be still suckering people out of their hard-earned cash at the pool table, there was plenty of time. And what if he did get caught? All the better. More than one pedestrian shivered at the sound of the wicked laughter blended with the throbbing of the big Twin 88.

The lights were on. He sat on the quiet bike for a moment, staring at the house, wondering at the sudden pang of what could only be guilt. He tried to shrug it off, but it gnawed at his conscience. Dee was just an innocent, no more at fault than the Dyna for the bastard's lizard-like personality. As he stared at the house, he saw a shapely shadow pass in front of the window. He had a sudden vision of full, soft breasts and doe-like hazel eyes. Shit, he was doing her a favor if it broke her away from the bastard's inexplicable hold over her.

His mind made up, he swung off the bike and walked to the front door with his typically slow, long strides. His finger hesitated for a split second before stabbing at the doorbell. The door opened before he could change his mind again and he was looking into those warm eyes.

"Bill? What are you doing here?" The hazel eyes flicked past him as if looking for the bastard. "Is John with you?"

"No. He's still at the Stumble. I just wanted to come by and see how you were," he lied. "Since you didn't show up with John tonight I was worried you might not be feeling well." The lies flowed smoothly.

He was rewarded by the wide, bright smile. "I'm fine. I just didn't feel like going out tonight. Come on in for a beer?"

He shrugged casually, his heart accelerating slightly. "Sure, but I can't stay long. I gotta work tomorrow."

He watched the full hips sway as he followed her to the kitchen, wondering how their roundness would feel under his fingers. He had to force his hand to stay at his side. The light from the refrigerator gleamed off the soft flesh that pressed up from beneath the snug sweater as she leaned in to retrieve two beers. He swallowed hard. This wasn't fair, but shit, there was no way he was going to pass on this now.

She smiled again and handed him his beer. He nodded his thanks and took a long swallow.

"I was just about to watch a movie. I know John won't be home till after closing time."

"What movie?"

She blushed a little. "It's a chick flick. I can put in something a little more macho."

"What were you going to watch?"

"Oh, 'Fried Green Tomatoes.' But I could put in Steven Segal or something."

He smiled down at her. "I happen to like that movie. Besides, I shouldn't stay long. You know how John is."

"Oh screw him. Have a seat. Should I make popcorn?"

He settled onto the couch, shaking his head. "No, you just relax. I know you worked today." He was astounding himself with the cavalier lies that were spilling so easily from his lips. He almost felt bad for how easily this was going, but not too bad. He suppressed a smile.

His eyes ran over her from heel to hip as she bent over the VCR and slid the tape into the slot. She straightened up and ran her fingers through her soft brown hair. He looked into those warm eyes again, holding her gaze a few seconds longer than necessary until she flushed slightly and lowered her lashes.

"C'mon and sit down. Put your feet up and enjoy your movie. I'll just stay for the first bit, then I'm off."

She settled onto the couch next to him, near enough that he could smell the light floral fragrance he had noticed her wearing on several other occasions. His mouth watered. The movie rolled.

Before he knew it they were on their fourth round, the movie was half over and she was sitting close enough that their thighs touched. Both were laughing uproariously at the screen. She turned to him, her eyes shining and her sweet lips curved into a happy smile. It was more than any man could have resisted. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled those delectable lips to his. He felt her stiffen beneath his arm but he refused to relinquish his hold as he pressed his mouth to hers in a devouring kiss. Her hands were against his chest, pushing him away without conviction. The taste of her against his tongue set a fire in his groin that was not going to be easily extinguished. The hands on his chest found their way to his cheeks as she began to return the kiss with equal ferocity.

With his free hand he pulled her legs across his lap, cradling her against his chest without losing contact with the now-insistent mouth. Finally, she feebly pushed him away. Her lips were swollen, her eyes bright and her breath came in trembling, shallow pants.

"No Bill, I can't do this. I can't," she said without conviction.

He kissed her softly on her deep cleavage. "Why not?" His tongue traced a trail between the full breasts, her breath caught.

He began slowly unbuttoning the tight sweater. The knit fabric pulled away as it was released from its restrictive embrace and more of the luscious breasts were exposed. There was no stopping now as her soft ass pressed against his now explosively hard erection. The sweater came off, exposing milky white skin and rigid nipples straining against the red satin of her bra. He kissed each nipple through the smooth fabric. No protests escaped her lips, only soft moans. He reached around behind her and unhooked her bra, slipping the straps from her smooth shoulders and completely freeing the breasts he had seen in his dreams. Cupping one gently in his hand, he licked and kissed the nipple to the accompanying music of sighs and moans. He let his lips find the hollow of cleavage, burying his face and inhaling the sweet fragrance. He pushed her back onto the couch and began kissing his way down to the buttons of her jeans.

The protests came again, with even less sincerity than before. "No, really Bill."

One button at a time gave way beneath his fingers. Her fingers wound into his hair. There were no protests now, she was barely breathing. He pulled the jeans from the round hips and down off the shapely legs. He kissed the delicate skin of her inner thighs, marveling at the silky smoothness. He could smell the musky sweetness of a woman fully aroused and he kissed her gently through the satin panties. He could almost taste her. The panties followed the jeans onto the floor, revealing the gleaming black curls and glistening pink lips of her vulva. He licked softly, savoring the sweetly delicate tang. To soft moans of encouragement he nuzzled, nibbled and kissed. Her back arched and the moans changed to a barely articulate stream of mumbled words. He pushed her to the brink and beyond, her body convulsing and a cry escaping her lips.

"Oh my God, Bill. Stop, stop..." she whispered breathlessly, pulling him away and up to her mouth. She kissed him hard, he pretended to not see the tear that escaped from the corner of her eye.

She fumbled with the buttons of his jeans, her fingers clumsy in her eagerness to release him from his confines. She didn't even give him a chance to get the jeans beyond his slender hips before she was guiding him into her. It didn't matter. He still had on his boots, that didn't matter either. All that mattered now was a hot, wet, tight pussy and soft lips kissing him hard enough that he thought she was going to draw his soul out through his mouth. He drove into her with a force that bordered on savagery but she hooked her legs around his waist and pulled him in ever tighter, demanding more until he came with a shuddering surge and a yell. He collapsed against her soft body, kissing her deeply before burying his face against her neck, feeling the dampness of her skin and inhaling the fragrance that now made him think of raspberries.

"Oh God, Dee," was all he could manage for a long moment.

He finally managed to push himself up onto his elbows and look down into the hazel eyes. Tears were threatening to spill out from behind the thick lashes and he felt that pang of guilt again.

"What's wrong?" As if he didn't know.

"I shouldn't have done this -- it was wrong. I know John can be a jerk sometimes, but..."

"But what?" Bill was suddenly angry at the bastard, again or still, he wasn't quite sure.

"But he loves me..." she trailed off, her voice cracking.

"OK, so I'm a total dickhead," he thought, now angry with himself too.

He sat up, hitching his jeans and tucking his still-wet dick back into his pants, "I...I guess I should go, before John gets home."

"Yeah, sure."

She sat up and started gathering her clothes, then disappeared into the bathroom. He didn't know if he should wait or just leave. He was feeling like the supreme asshole now, making John look like a saint. Oh well, shit, payback was hell, right?

She emerged from the bathroom, still rumpled, her makeup alluringly smudged, her lips red and swollen. But it was the eyes that stopped him. The warmth and happiness had been replaced with an injured innocence. God, he was a fucking jerk.

"Aw baby, don't look that way," he took her in his arms, pulling her tight to his chest and kissing the top of her head.

Before she could answer, the front door slammed open with a violent crash. "GOD DAMN IT! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" John burst into the room like a psychotic Rottweiler, screaming, snarling and red faced. Before Bill or Dee could respond, John grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to him, backhanding her hard across the mouth. "You fucking cunt, I knew it! God damned slut!"

He raised his hand to slap her again but Bill managed to react, grabbing the fist before it could do any more damage to the soft lips.

"Don't touch her again or I'll kill you," he snarled into the rabid eyes.

"I'll kill you first, you son of a bitch."

John wrenched his arm from the iron grip and took a couple of stumbling steps backward. Even without the reek of Jack Daniels it was easy to see the guy was shit faced. Bill stepped back away from the raging drunk, waiting to see where this was going. He didn't have to wait long. A sharp hunting blade emerged from the sheath tucked into the waistband of John's jeans. Even drunk, the guy steadied the blade with cold accuracy, the drop tip waving gently in the direction of Bill's throat.

"I'm gonna kill you first, you bastard, then I'm gonna kill her for fucking around on me."

Bill had no reason to doubt him and began moving slowly away, looking for any available weapon. A cold metal click grabbed their attention. Both men turned to see the brunette standing in the kitchen doorway, blood trickling from the corner of her full mouth and a Colt .45 steadied in both hands. It was aimed unerringly for John's chest.

"Drop the knife John," she said softly in a voice that neither man would have argued with.

The knife dropped from nerveless fingers. "I wasn't gonna hurt him honey, just scare him a little. I was mad, you know..." he trailed off feebly at the cold glint in her eye.

"Nobody hits me. Nobody." The trigger clicked once more into full cock, the barrel lifted ever so slightly until the bead was steadied on the terrified face of the suddenly sober man.

"Jesus, Dee, what are you doing? I didn't mean it, I was just pissed. And drunk...and..."

"Nobody hits me," she repeated. The cold voice sent chills down Bill's spine. She was really going to shoot him.

The terror was too much for John. His face turned chalky and his bladder cut loose. The room was filled with the reek of strong piss. Dee stepped closer, the gun ever steady. Both men watched, immobilized by the cold hatred burning in the hazel eyes. She stopped about three feet from the trembling, panic-stricken bully. Bill could only watch with horrified fascination. In a swift move, her foot lashed out and she kicked John square in the crotch with an audible crunch. Bill winced reactively as the injured man crumpled to the floor, gasping and retching at the explosive pain radiating up from his damaged balls into his gut. Bill couldn't pull his eyes from the morbid sight as John began puking onto the carpet, writhing in his own urine and vomit.

"Nobody hits me," Dee reiterated. Bill cringed away as she turned her attention onto him, but she gave him a small smile. "Could you give me a ride to my sister's, please?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah, sure." There was no way in hell he was going to argue with her. "But at least put the piece in your purse, OK?"

She flashed him a grin, "It's not loaded," then went to get her coat.

Bill leaned over the thoroughly humiliated bastard rolling in his own bodily fluids and said softly, "Payback is hell, ain't it pal?"

He was still chuckling as he escorted the pretty brunette out to the bike waiting at the curb.