Caught in the Devil's Sheets (2 page)

Jaime ordered it for me, and I watched as the bartender poured in Grey Goose vodka and orange juice into a shaker. I may not have known my alcohol well, but I knew Grey Goose was good vodka. Jaime had a beer, and we sat at the bar chatting for a few hours.

I tapped out after my 5
th
drink. I was pretty well tossed, and so was he. I really liked him and I was stoked when he asked me back to his place. He called a cab and held my hand down the stairwell, much to my comfort, as I clumsily trotted down the stairs. We waited on the sidewalk for the cab, and his hands were around my waist, holding me. I smiled up at him, all drunk and way more personable than normal. Then we kissed! It tasted like delicious alcohol! I was sure other people were thinking, “Get a room,” as we made out on the sidewalk.

A few minutes later, the cab arrived. We were too busy playing touchy feely in the backseat for me to even pay attention to where we were going. I have no idea how long we were in the cab, but I was in bliss when it came to a stop in his driveway.

We were right on the beach, in front of a huge condo. I wondered if he could possibly own this. Jaime paid the cabby with a hundred dollar bill and exited his side of the cab, pulling me out behind him. We trailed up the cobble walkway and he put a combination into the pad on the door handle. Once inside I didn’t really get time to really look around. I bounded up the stairs behind him and he led me into a bedroom. It was a total bachelor pad, the kind that made me feel like I was definitely not the first girl to grace its presence.

He pulled me to the middle of the room, shutting the door behind us. Then he was on me, kissing me, cupping my breast in his palm. Our clothes hit the floor, and his fingers grasped my hair. Forcing my lips against his, his tongue moved deep inside my mouth. My arms were braced around him, nails digging into his back already.

He stepped back for a moment, leading me toward the bed. I was glad it was dark in the room and hoped he wouldn’t notice how chubby I was without my dress holding it all together. He reached for my hand, walking backwards to the bed while his tongue continued its exploration of my mouth.

We reached the bed and he laid me down gently. He kissed my breasts and made his way down to my panty line, pulling my panties down and off my ankles. He kissed the inside of my thighs, teasing me.

Then he went down on me. It was further then I had ever gone on a first date. I always hesitated to let anyone down there, it was so… intimate. But I was drunk, and I let loose. I moaned out loud. I wasn’t sure if anyone could hear us or not, but he did nothing to shush me. I rolled my hips, bringing myself to meet his tongue’s long caresses. I brushed my fingers through his short black hair. He put two fingers inside me and massaged, his lips twisting my clit back and forth between them. I screamed into the large, echoing room.

My muscles clenched. I didn’t want him to see me cum before he did. I sat up and pulled his head out of my lap. Without a pause, he climbed up to meet my lips with his, pushing me back down onto the mattress again. His hand went down there and he stroked me, guiding his cock to the opening of my sex. Swiftly he thrust inside me. I grinded against him, meeting his thrusts.

My hands squeezed his butt, pulling him into me. I took his hand from beside my head and directed it down toward my pelvis. He took my lead and worked his thumb in small circles around my clit.

“Yes!” I cried. Pleasure seeped throughout my body. I hummed inside, all my muscles vibrating.

He grunted loudly with each thrust inside of me.

His thumb relentlessly kneaded my clit up and down, until I couldn’t take anymore.

I screamed, and he too moaned out loud, as we were both lost in an orgasm. He was stiff, barreled as far into me as he could.

Then he loosened up, pulling himself out of me. He got off the bed and picked up his shirt. “Want this?” he asked politely offering me a means of cleaning myself up.

I reached my hand out for it. I would usually have felt so shy about it. I usually never would have had sex on a first date, especially with no condom. I was glad I had stayed on my birth control religiously since breaking up with Ryan. It must have been the alcohol making me so brave, or sloppy. I couldn’t quite tell the difference.

“You wanna stay, right?” he asks.

He had no idea how much his question meant to me. There was nothing worse than being fucked and then pushed out the door like a whore.

“Sure,” I answered, not thinking about anything past that night.

He climbed in next to me and wrapped an arm around me. I was still naked, and so was he. It would usually take me hours to feel comfortable enough being naked with a man to be able to just fall asleep. But that was not the case with Jaime. He opened me up in so many new ways.

My cell phone alarm was going off in the distance when I finally opened my eyes. The sun peaked through the window. He was still asleep, naked ass up, his arm sprawled out across me.

Shit!
I was supposed to be at work that morning. I scurried out of bed, immediately pulling my dress on before he was awake enough to see me naked. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. 8:15. “Shit!”

“What’s up?” His eyes were groggy, but still piercing green.

“I’m supposed to be at work in 15 minutes. I’ll never make it. I need this job!” I could have cried, I was so frustrated with myself. And my pounding headache wasn’t making anything better.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll give you a ride,” he said casually. He reached for his phone as I scrambled to find my bra.

“I can’t go to work in this.” I said, now wishing that I had opted for jeans last night.

Jaime held his phone to his ear. “Jeff, let my Grandpa know that Lila is going to be late this morning. Yeah, she’s with me.” A snide smile took over his face as he glanced up at me.

Great
, I thought.
Now Jeff is totally going to give me shit.
Although, I was kind of proud of it looking down at Jaime. He was sexy in a punk rocker kind of way. He was only about 5'7”, but he was hot. He had that tattooed biker look going for him.

“Yeah, bro, see you later.” He hung up. “All taken care of, I’ll take you home after breakfast.”

Breakfast?

“I’d really rather not be any later then I have to be. Like I said, I can’t afford to lose this job.” It was not like me to openly blab about my shitty finances, but I needed him to know this was no joke to me. I needed to get there. Quick!

“Don’t worry about it. You’re not gonna get fired, I promise.” He stepped out of bed and pulled on new jeans and a black Devil’s Bandit T-shirt.

I noticed his thick back muscles and a large Devil’s Bandit tattoo sprawled from shoulder blade to shoulder blade.

“Want to borrow a sweatshirt?” Jaime asked.

“Please.”

He dug through the closet and threw me a Devil’s Bandit sweatshirt. I thought only members were allowed to wear them, but it must have been okay if he was giving it to me. I was proud to wear it. I felt oddly important. I pulled it on over my dress.

I used the bathroom and when I emerged, he had left the bedroom and the door was open. I headed down the stairs, trying to remember the layout of the house from what I had seen the night before, but it was all a blur. He was in the kitchen, pouring a glass of OJ.

Without asking, he poured a second and pushed it toward me on the granite counter. The whole house was immaculate.
What does he do for a living?
I wondered.

“Want some Advil or something?”

“No thanks.” My headache was nothing food and some OJ wouldn’t cure.

“I had a great time last night, Lila,” he said.

I was glad to know I wasn’t the only one. “Me too! It was really cool getting into a bar!” I admitted.

“The bar was alright,” he said. hinting more toward what followed.

“I’d do it again.” I made sure to say.

“So it’s cool if I keep your number?”

“Yeah, for sure.” I suppressed a huge Cheshire cat grin. “I really gotta get going, though,” I said, rinsing my cup in the sink.

Jaime led me out to the garage. Inside there were two nice motorcycles, a single rider chopper, and a two-man Harley.
Nice!
Next to them was a bright green Acura sports car. He unlocked the passenger door and opened it for me, closing it once I was situated.

He remembered the way back to my place. I tried to hand him back his sweatshirt.

“Keep it!” he said, smiling his rock star smile.

*           *           *

Odin and I are about 20 miles from Arizona. Odin switches the CD again to Metallica, and I realize I need to kindle some sort of conversation. If I have to spend the whole car ride in silence, lost in old memories of Jaime, I’m afraid I might cry. That would be way too embarrassing to live with, so, I decide to ask Odin about himself.

“Where did you grow up?”

“Louisiana,” he says shortly.

“You like it there?” I ask.

He glances around briefly and takes a deep breath in. “Sure, it has a certain southern magic about it you can’t get anywhere else. Not to mention the seafood is amazing.”

I turn to see that he is not smiling while he speaks of home. In fact, his lips are pressed in a line and his jaw is clenched.

“What brought you out here?”

“I grew up in the club. Decided to switch charters when I was 16.”

“When was the last time you visited?”

“Never.” He doesn’t give any explanation, and I can tell he doesn’t want to. There must be a reason. People don’t just leave home and never come back.

“You’re from Cali right?” he changes the topic to me.

“Yeah, I grew up in Ojai. I don’t know if you’ve ever been there.”

“Once or twice.”

I don’t generally talk about growing up. I’ve actually gone through lengths to try and block a lot of my younger years out. But we’re stuck in a car together till Texas and I don’t know what else to talk about.

“My mom was religious, and not like church on Sundays religious. She was an extremist,” I say in the most sardonic way I can manage.

“Your whole life?”

“Since I was like two, way too young to have any say over it. By the time I was old enough to realize they were nuts, me and my mom totally hated each other. Not just because of religion, but for a good amount of other reasons, too.” That’s as far as I care to get into it. “She shipped me off to a Christian School in Wyoming when I was 12, said she didn’t wanna put up with me anymore.” I brag at what a terror I was at a mere 12-years old. Truthfully, it still really bothers me that my mom just gave up on me and pushed me out.

“No shit?” He sounds surprised. “I left home when I was 16 and I thought I was badass,” he jokes.

“Why didn’t you ever go back to Louisiana?” I ask, curious if he’ll tell me.

His lips press in a hard line. “I just like it here,” he says with a shrug.

But he doesn’t fool me. “Yeah, but there has to be a reason you haven’t been back. What about your parents?”

“They’re dead,” he says shortly. “How’d you like Wyoming?”

“I hated it!” I say without hesitation. He smiles, not surprised that I didn’t like Christian school. I still want to know what he has against Louisiana, but I don’t push it.

“I ran away with a boy from school when I was 15.”

I try not to get upset when I think of Billy.

“Then what?”

“Got in trouble with the cops, then my mom let me come back home.” I leave rather gaping holes in the story. We cross into Arizona. I can feel Odin looking at me.

“At least she let you come back,” he says. But he doesn’t have any idea what I had to go through to come home again.

“Did you get kicked out?”

“My mom disappeared when I was 8. My dad went totally off the deep end. When he was kicked out of the club, I moved,” he says quickly.

He turns to stare out his own window now, and I can’t see his face. I think the worst. Or at least what I think is the worst, that his dad was abusive toward him.

“My mom hit me a lot. Spare the rod and spoil the child I think the Bible says,” I confide, and it sounds so strange. It’s something I don’t just tell people. I hope he doesn’t think I’m trying to compare or gain pity for myself. I just want him to know we’re on the same page.

He turns back to me. “You have no idea,” he says coldly, sending a deep shiver through my body. It’s like he’s telling me nothing that I went through holds a candlestick to his past.

Now what?

He must have noticed I have no idea what to say next because he adds, “I think I turned out nicely anyway.” Now he is smiling.

“Sure! I think you’re quite a nice character,” I say cheesily. But I mean it.

He smirks a “you-don’t-know-me-that-well” smirk that only feeds my curiosity.

“When did you find out what Jaime did for a living?” he asks after a short while. Great, we’re bringing up Jaime again.

“Uh well, he knew money was kind of tight for me. Although working for his Grandpa had helped tremendously, it’s no girl’s dream to wipe ass for a living. We had already told each other we loved each other, and I was catching hints as to how the real money was made around the club.

One night he took me out to a really fancy dinner and he asked me if I wanted to go on a road trip with him. I knew there was more to it, but I didn’t totally know what. He said we’d be bringing drugs to Oregon, but he promised it wasn’t nearly as shady as it sounded. I told him there was no way I was risking going to jail.” I can still remember how stunned I was.

“But Jaime is a sweet talker. He said everyone did it. ‘Where do you think our nice cars and our big houses come from?’ were his exact words. He promised when we were done with the business we could go blow some cash anywhere we wanted. Stop anywhere on the way home, or even take a detour. Said it would be the best road trip I’d ever have. I’ve always been a thrill-seeking kind of girl. Fast cars, rollercoasters, you name it. It didn’t really take much talking into. And when he said I could make five grand, it sealed the deal.”

“Was it?”

“The best road trip ever? At the time it was the most exciting thing I had ever done! He got me a fake ID before we left. We stayed in Portland and we went clubbing. It was all the thrills I had been seeking for my young adult life. We used to do something fun on the way home every time! It was half the appeal.” I miss a lot of the things Jaime and I used to do. I begin thinking of some of the other side trips we made, but it only makes me sad.