![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
"I thought Bike Week was only in Florida," Maya shouts to Cindy and me as she passes with four pints of beer precariously balanced in her hands. I'm quickly trying to show Cindy how to layer drinks, and Maya's briefly picking up the slack until we're done. It's not an unusually busy Friday night, but Friday night is busy enough, so we're working as quickly as we can.
I shout back, "I think it's earlier in March, too," and after she sets down the pints, Maya shrugs and moves on.
"Is this Bike Week?" Cindy asks, and gestures to the back end of the Bar, where about a dozen men and three women have taken up residence in all their leather-jacketed, tattooed, rowdy glory. Their motorcycles made a horrific noise when they pulled up in front of the Bar about an hour ago, and since I've never seen these people before, I wonder if they chose their bar for the night based entirely on where they lucked into a couple of empty parking spots. Either way, they're running a credit card tab, so we know they're good for their drinks.
"I have no idea what this is," I tell her. "Bike Week is in Daytona Beach, and it's supposed to be one of the biggest gatherings of bikers in the world. Maybe they're on their way back from it or something."
"They're a little scary, don't you think?" She looks genuinely nervous, and I glance at them again.
"Think of them like you would any other large group of customers. I doubt they'll give you any trouble, but if they do, we've got your back - and you know Bill and Diego do, too." The layering lesson ended, we go back to slinging drinks, much to Maya's relief.
An hour or so later, I'm serving a third round of Cabernet Sauvignons to a very cute gay couple, when one of them points to the other and says, "Tony has something he wants to ask you."
"Carl, I do not!" Tony protests. "At least let me get another glass of wine in me."
"Fine, then I'll ask her."
Tony closes his eyes, covers his ears with his hands, and says, "I can't hear you!"
"Whatever it is, fellas, ask me soon, there's a lot of people I have to get drunk."
Tony sighs, and Carl puts a hand on top of mine. "Okay, Reader's Digest condensed version: Tony's never been with a woman, he's still curious about it, all his girlfriends have crushes on him and he doesn't want to screw them up, you're beautiful, blah, blah, blah. So?"
I smile. "Okay, my first reaction is, when you want a woman to sleep with you, you need a better compliment than 'You're beautiful, blah, blah, blah.'"
"You are, though," says Tony. "Your smile and your cute little ass are the best things about this place." I feel myself blushing, and for a moment I actually consider saying yes. He really is adorable.
"That's incredibly sweet, Tony, but I'm seeing someone right now."
Tony sighs again, and Carl pats his thigh. "That's one very lucky man."
"Woman," I correct him, winking.
"Look at you!" he marvels, and I head off to take more drink orders.
It's not much later that Diego taps me on the shoulder and directs my attention to Cindy, who's at the other end of the bar trying to take a drink order from one of the larger, leather-faced biker dudes, who has three other biker dudes behind him as spectators. She looks a little bit like a deer in the headlights, so I starting heading in their direction and tell Diego to give Bill a heads-up.
"...loosen up a little," is what I hear as I approach, "I just want to know what kind of woman you are, whether you've ever had a man like me." It's not really that far out of bounds from what we tend to put up with all night around here, so I let it slide and keep listening.
"So that's another round of beers, then?" she offers, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. Nice, I think, but I stick around just in case.
"I mean, have you ever had so much beer you woke up the next morning with a brand-new tattoo and a guy you didn't recognize, and you didn't remember screwing him the night before so you screwed him again just to make sure?" All three members of his current entourage laugh.
"I don't have any tattoos."
"I'm not sure I believe you, I might have to check you for tattoos myself. Slowly."
I step in. "Sir, can I help you with anything?"
Leatherface ignores me completely. "Have you ever sold your house, bought a new wardrobe made entirely of leather, chains, and denim, and gone on the road with a man because you just knew you couldn't live without his vibrating engine between your legs every day and his dick between your legs every night?"
"That's... I, you don't..." Cindy's not happy.
I try one more time. "Hey, that's really not cool, okay? Why don't you back off for a minute, and we'll get you something to drink." His friends laugh again. And then it suddenly occurs to me that I might have been just a little bit hasty with my earlier advice. All told, there are an awful lot of them, and not very many of Diego and Bill. I think about my options, and slowly start reaching into my pocket for my phone, wondering if I could dial 911 without looking. That's when he leans forward, rests a hand on the bar, and gets right in Cindy's face, but doesn't lower his voice at all to ask his next question.
"Honey, have you ever been fucked on a Harley?" He leans back again and smiles, one of his compadres patting him on the back.
I almost have my hand in the air to signal Bill when Cindy leans forward and asks with great force and conviction, "What model and year?"
And that's when the hooting starts. Leatherface laughs right along with it for a minute, then says, "You're all right, sweetheart. Get us another round, willya? And this is for you." He throws down a twenty, and turns around to chat with his buddies while Cindy draws their pints.
"You all right?" I ask.
"Holy shit, Debra, where the hell did that come from?" she says, laughing and shaking a little.
I shout back, "I think it's earlier in March, too," and after she sets down the pints, Maya shrugs and moves on.
"Is this Bike Week?" Cindy asks, and gestures to the back end of the Bar, where about a dozen men and three women have taken up residence in all their leather-jacketed, tattooed, rowdy glory. Their motorcycles made a horrific noise when they pulled up in front of the Bar about an hour ago, and since I've never seen these people before, I wonder if they chose their bar for the night based entirely on where they lucked into a couple of empty parking spots. Either way, they're running a credit card tab, so we know they're good for their drinks.
"I have no idea what this is," I tell her. "Bike Week is in Daytona Beach, and it's supposed to be one of the biggest gatherings of bikers in the world. Maybe they're on their way back from it or something."
"They're a little scary, don't you think?" She looks genuinely nervous, and I glance at them again.
"Think of them like you would any other large group of customers. I doubt they'll give you any trouble, but if they do, we've got your back - and you know Bill and Diego do, too." The layering lesson ended, we go back to slinging drinks, much to Maya's relief.
An hour or so later, I'm serving a third round of Cabernet Sauvignons to a very cute gay couple, when one of them points to the other and says, "Tony has something he wants to ask you."
"Carl, I do not!" Tony protests. "At least let me get another glass of wine in me."
"Fine, then I'll ask her."
Tony closes his eyes, covers his ears with his hands, and says, "I can't hear you!"
"Whatever it is, fellas, ask me soon, there's a lot of people I have to get drunk."
Tony sighs, and Carl puts a hand on top of mine. "Okay, Reader's Digest condensed version: Tony's never been with a woman, he's still curious about it, all his girlfriends have crushes on him and he doesn't want to screw them up, you're beautiful, blah, blah, blah. So?"
I smile. "Okay, my first reaction is, when you want a woman to sleep with you, you need a better compliment than 'You're beautiful, blah, blah, blah.'"
"You are, though," says Tony. "Your smile and your cute little ass are the best things about this place." I feel myself blushing, and for a moment I actually consider saying yes. He really is adorable.
"That's incredibly sweet, Tony, but I'm seeing someone right now."
Tony sighs again, and Carl pats his thigh. "That's one very lucky man."
"Woman," I correct him, winking.
"Look at you!" he marvels, and I head off to take more drink orders.
It's not much later that Diego taps me on the shoulder and directs my attention to Cindy, who's at the other end of the bar trying to take a drink order from one of the larger, leather-faced biker dudes, who has three other biker dudes behind him as spectators. She looks a little bit like a deer in the headlights, so I starting heading in their direction and tell Diego to give Bill a heads-up.
"...loosen up a little," is what I hear as I approach, "I just want to know what kind of woman you are, whether you've ever had a man like me." It's not really that far out of bounds from what we tend to put up with all night around here, so I let it slide and keep listening.
"So that's another round of beers, then?" she offers, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. Nice, I think, but I stick around just in case.
"I mean, have you ever had so much beer you woke up the next morning with a brand-new tattoo and a guy you didn't recognize, and you didn't remember screwing him the night before so you screwed him again just to make sure?" All three members of his current entourage laugh.
"I don't have any tattoos."
"I'm not sure I believe you, I might have to check you for tattoos myself. Slowly."
I step in. "Sir, can I help you with anything?"
Leatherface ignores me completely. "Have you ever sold your house, bought a new wardrobe made entirely of leather, chains, and denim, and gone on the road with a man because you just knew you couldn't live without his vibrating engine between your legs every day and his dick between your legs every night?"
"That's... I, you don't..." Cindy's not happy.
I try one more time. "Hey, that's really not cool, okay? Why don't you back off for a minute, and we'll get you something to drink." His friends laugh again. And then it suddenly occurs to me that I might have been just a little bit hasty with my earlier advice. All told, there are an awful lot of them, and not very many of Diego and Bill. I think about my options, and slowly start reaching into my pocket for my phone, wondering if I could dial 911 without looking. That's when he leans forward, rests a hand on the bar, and gets right in Cindy's face, but doesn't lower his voice at all to ask his next question.
"Honey, have you ever been fucked on a Harley?" He leans back again and smiles, one of his compadres patting him on the back.
I almost have my hand in the air to signal Bill when Cindy leans forward and asks with great force and conviction, "What model and year?"
And that's when the hooting starts. Leatherface laughs right along with it for a minute, then says, "You're all right, sweetheart. Get us another round, willya? And this is for you." He throws down a twenty, and turns around to chat with his buddies while Cindy draws their pints.
"You all right?" I ask.
"Holy shit, Debra, where the hell did that come from?" she says, laughing and shaking a little.
I shrug and move on.
relieved
glad to see you writing again.
hmmmm
glad to see your posts lately.
But what a creep, ew.
Sounds like these bikers were a playful group who just wanted to know Cindy was up to the play. Sounds like she was! :-)
Great to see you showing up again
That answer rates right up there with a barmaids response to a bunch of airborne guys giving her a hard time, me being one of them.
When asked if she had ever made it with an airborne trooper, she replied, 'Considering how you guys keep saying that jumping is as good as sex, why bother? You're all played out already.'
Again, nice to see you back.
xxxx
I've been in similar experiences, only I'm not a barmaid...it gets quite interesting too...
:)
just to throw this out...
And that whole thing with Tony was kind of sweet. I think you should have done it (or him, as the case may be).
~Josh
One of my old roommates is a drop dead gorgeous Gina Gershon look-alike. She's also a biker. For a year we had her Honda Shadow parked in front of our washer and dryer so that she could make repairs over the winter. She wasn't bisexual or lesbian which was too bad, however, making out on her bike in our laundry room with my girlfriend was pretty goddamn hot. Definitely can see the appeal.
q: "what's the difference between a biker and a vacuum cleaner?"
a: "the location of the dirtbag."