Griffin^^^
> After you learn to demand, to command, and to control your fantasy sessions, you may find yourself becoming more assertive in other situations as well.

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Friday

May 25, 1990

I stood in front of my full-length mirror in my bedroom, looking at the plain black T-shirt and jeans Cindy had asked me to wear for the party.

As I stared at my reflection, I didn't like what I saw.

The past week, I had been in total control. No man who came into the shop had a chance to demean me.

Cindy's idea of my outfit for the night just wasn't cutting it for me. I couldn't stand to let Cindy dictate what I looked like. Not after the eye-opening experience I had last weekend.

I looked over at the clock on the nightstand beside my king-size bed. I had just enough time to change into something more... me.

The new me that Sandy had introduced me to.

Since my weekend with her and Bull, I had been buying different corsets in many different colors.

Walking over to my grandmother's old dresser, I pulled out the drawer. I ran my fingers over the multiple colors of silk until I found just the right one.

My hand landed on a deep royal purple corset with black embroidery. It was a new one I had yet to wear in public.

I pulled the corset out and ripped off the plain black T-shirt. I worked on the front hooks as I made my way back to the mirror.

I unzipped my jeans to allow the bottom of the corset to hug my hips. I put my hand around my back to start tightening the corset strings.

I had done this so much that I could do it in my sleep.

Keeping the bottom tight so that my stomach stayed super flat and my waist was narrow—twenty-one inches—I left the top just loose enough for me to breathe.

Once I was satisfied with my new look, I zipped my jeans back up and went to find my favorite riding jacket.

It was one I had picked up in Savannah on St. Patrick's Day. A cropped black leather jacket with long sleeves. The bottom of the jacket hung just below my ribs. It gave a good four-inch view of my waist.

Now that I was more comfortable with my look for the night, I just had to convince myself to leave.

I always went through this.

I knew once I got to the party I would have fun. I just had to force myself to do it.

So I took a deep breath and turned to leave.

I hit the highway at 7:45. The twenty-five-minute drive to Cindy's family river house would get me there just in time to "make an entrance," as Cindy put it.

I loved the drive on the old river road.

Cindy's family home was located on the banks of the Ogeechee River. Everything grew greener here thanks to the Ogeechee's rich, dark waters. The trees and grass were a lush green. There weren't many people who lived on this road because of the flooding from the river.

Cindy's family had lived in the same house for generations.

The oak trees on each side of the driveway covered the road and made it look like you were driving into a cave made of deep green leaves. Dull gray Spanish moss hung from most of the limbs.

The sound of my motorcycle echoed through the moss-covered oaks.

Halfway up the drive, I started to see cars. I didn't stop to park on the drive. Cindy had a big side yard that her father told me I could park in anytime I came to visit.

I pulled up to the Dixon family plantation house.

It was a throwback from the old days. There were still a lot of the old plantation houses on the property. Even a family church, where all the family weddings and babies' christenings were still held to this day.

The entire side yard was full of Harley-Davidson motorcycles.

There was a large crowd standing around the fire pit on the stone deck. There was a smaller fire to the side with a large black cast-iron pot sitting over it. A makeshift dance floor had also been set up closer to the riverbank.

People were milling around, talking and drinking.

Some were even dancing.

I looked over the crowd that had gathered to see if I could spot Cindy. I noticed the long looks I was getting from the leather-clad bikers.

I saw Cindy just coming out of the house. She had her hands full of drinks. She dropped them into one of the four forty-eight-can coolers.

She spotted me and gave me a small nod.

Showtime!

I stood and swung my leg off my bike. Looking at the crowd once more, I pulled my helmet off.

My long, dark-brown hair fell around my waist.

Several of the partygoers stopped in their tracks.

"Cha... Cha!" Cindy bounced my way, gaining me yet even more attention.

She brought me into a massive hug.

"Thank you," she breathed into my ear.

"No problem, babe."

I looked over the crowd again.

"How many bikers are in this group?" I questioned her as she dragged me toward the cast-iron pot.

"I'm really not sure. I need you to taste the peanuts. I used your daddy's recipe, but Jay keeps telling me there is something missing."

She waved to the biker I recognized as the man who had picked up Marc from the shop. He was eyeing the pot with great suspicion.

Jay looked like a warlock as he stirred the peanuts. He had a young girl hanging off his arm. She barely looked over twenty-one.

"I told her, Cha Cha, your old man wouldn't just give up the family recipe just because he thinks she's cute."

It was obvious that Jay had had a few beers.

"What's so special about them?" the biker asked as he moved closer to the pot, eyeing me up and down.

I had to admit, he was definitely someone I could get into. He was tall, had lots of muscles, and nice dark hair. His eyes were an uncommon blue, like the sky in the morning.

I couldn't help but smile at him.

"Well, why don't you try some and tell me?"

I held up the basket long enough for him to take a few.

He was a prospective new member, his patches on the back of his jacket claimed.

He started eating, and he noticed we were watching his reaction too closely. So I looked away quickly before winking at Jay.

He started to choke and sputter.

"What's wrong, John?" an older biker next to him asked as he hit him on the back a few times. He had a VP patch on his jacket.

"Hot..." John got out before hacking up a lung.

"Of course it's hot, you idiot. It just came out of the pot."

The older biker was laughing openly now.

"No, Jake, it's hot. Like spicy hot. I have never had something that hot."

John was looking at Jake in sheer disbelief.

Jake grabbed a few and tried them for himself.

Jay, Cindy, and I were used to the heat and could only laugh at the bikers. Their eyes watered, and both their faces turned red.

John walked away to get another victim to try the peanuts.

As Jake started to tell us about the group, John returned with a much older biker.

This man had a head full of gray hair and a pot belly. He was also sporting a president patch on his jacket.

"Let me try these damn things."

He grabbed a handful.

Before you knew it, more than half of the biker group were eating peanuts. They all claimed the peanuts were too hot, but no one stopped eating them.

By the end of the night, I had gotten on a first-name basis with not only the president but most of the officers of the club.

I spent most of my time talking to John. We flirted for most of the party.

Cindy didn't need my help as much as she thought she would. Though she kept wanting me to meet someone. I think he was the son of one of the older bikers.

I didn't care too much.

John was just too much fun.

I had a good time up until the point when I met the jerk of the club.

I was talking to John about bikes and what I liked to ride. He asked what my favorite was.

"I learned to ride on an Indian, but I ride the Sportster now."

I took a sip of the cola he had just handed me.

I didn't notice the other biker who was listening to our conversation until he spoke up.

"Who would be dumb enough to let a woman learn to drive on their Indian?"

He wasn't as tall as John, and his frame was leaner. He had light-brown hair and dark eyes.

He had tried to pass off what he said as a joke, but something told me not to fall for it.

"I don't like it when people call me dumb. I have been riding since middle school."

I held his eye contact. I refused to back down.

"The Indian was a gift I got for my eleventh birthday. My father gave it to me. I learned to ride it, of course, after I rebuilt it myself that same year."

Unable to stand being in his presence any longer, I went to tell Cindy I was going home.

She tried her best to get me to stay around. She said the guy wanted to apologize for what he said.

I was too angry to listen, so I just went home.

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I woke up Sunday morning still mad about what had happened at the party.

I crawled out of my bed later than normal because of my late night. I had to hurry to make lunch with my dad.

Before my grandparents' death, we would eat every Sunday lunch at their house. Now my father insisted we have lunch at the local diner and rumor mill.

I hated the place, but my father loved it.

To make him happy, I went.

It only had two seating areas. One for the general public and a private dining area for meetings and private parties.

They served buffet-style lunch and dinner, with everything the Southern consumer could want. From fried chicken to baked ham with all the fixings.

By noon on Sunday, the place was packed.

Dad and I sat in the main dining area. Everyone greeted my dad as we sat.

Next to us was a couple of older ladies. They were the spinster sisters of the town. They still lived together in their family home.

Being the big gossips they were, they began to have a loud conversation about the personal life of someone else instead of minding their own business.

"Did you hear about poor Johnny?" June asked her sister.

"Why no, do tell," Estee replied.

"Well, his wife, you know, was pregnant. She had her baby."

June gave her a knowing look.

"Oh, that's nice. What was it?" Estee asked innocently, even though you could tell she knew the whole story.

"A girl, but that's not the worst part. She had an affair. The baby was not the same color as Johnny. If you know what I mean."

June informed everyone around who was listening.

My blood started to boil.

These self-centered bitches had nothing better to do than run this woman's good name into the ground. Just because she found herself in a loveless marriage and found comfort in another's arms. No matter who or what color that man might be

"To think she tried to pass it off as Johnny's flesh and blood," Estee huffed.

At this point, all my appetite was gone.

I looked over at my dad to see he had slowed down on eating as well.

We both knew the family.

"Well, would you look at the trash that the wind just blew in."

June suddenly changed the subject.

I turned my head to see Walt, the president of the bike crew, come in with a few others, as well as the biker who had insulted me.

I introduced my dad to Walt and some of the others I had met at the party.

Walt, in turn, introduced us to the members that I didn't know.

"This is my son, Griffin. I didn't get the chance to introduce you to him last night."

Walt said it with a father's pride.

"Well, we did meet last night, Dad. You didn't give me the chance to apologize to you for the way I acted. I would like to make it up to you, if you'll let me."

Griffin stated it.

There was something about this man that had me wanting to know more about him.

Even though he acted like all the others, I still saw something in his moss-green eyes.