Play Dirty: Devil's Mustangs MC (10 page)

MICHELLE

“I still don’t understand why I need to know this damn stuff, Miss Springer.” Maddie is twirling her curly brown hair with the ends of her pencil as she chomps down on a piece of gum she won from my purse. She looks up at me, totally uninterested, “It’s just a bunch of dead guys.”

“Yeah, it’s a bunch of dead guys -- a bunch of dead guys who fought for our country.” I hold out my hand in front of her mouth. It’s our signal. The new rule is that for every time she curses, I get to take away the gum. Go five minutes without a bad word uttered, I give her another piece. I even have my phone’s timer set up for it.

“Oh come on, Miss Springer! It’s just ‘damn.’ I’ve said much worse than that!” She throws her arms around her chest in a dramatic pout.

I know she’s heard worse. I have no doubt that the expressive vocabulary that she uses is all inherited from her surroundings. Looking around the kitchen with the black garbage bags and plywood boards covering the windows and the floor tiles literally peeling up at its edges, this place is a breeding ground for low class.

But still, this is Maddie’s home. And in the few weeks I’ve been stopping by to help tutor her, I have seen her more at ease than ever. As much as I hate it, she’s comfortable here. She even feels safe here regardless of the gunfire, strange women, and men carrying around knives and drugs.

I reach out my hand towards her mouth, still insisting she follow my rule. She looks at me, rolls her eyes, and spits it into the palm of my hand. She returns to her books for a brief second before being interrupted by one of the club members passing through for a beer.

He tussles Maddie’s hair as he says, “How’s it going Maddie? Where’ your dad at?”

I’m asking myself the same question. Since I turned Cal down, I haven’t seen him or heard from him. He hasn’t stopped by to see me tutor Maddie. He hasn’t even made it into the classroom to talk about her progress despite my notes and letters. But, secretly, I’m grateful. The less I see him, the less I think of him and his body pressed against mine. Without him around, I can actually be the professional teacher I know I can be.

“Ah, he’s on a run somewhere. I think it’s to Chris’ repair shop or something. He took Ryan, Isaac, Blue Eye, and Softie with him a couple hours ago. I thought he was supposed to be back by now, though.”

I clear my throat as I turn to the man at the refrigerator, “What’s a ‘run’?” I shouldn’t ask. I know better. Getting myself involved in this motorcycle club stuff feels like a death sentence. The more I know, the deeper I get in, but any insight into Maddie’s world is becoming more and more important to me as I become attached to her.

The man pulls back the tab on the gold can of his beer, sending the frothy liquid down his hand. He eyes me as he licks the remains off. And then, he smiles widely. “You’re a curious one, aren’t ya? Most girls around here are an ‘ask no questions’ type.”

I turn back to Maddie who is laughing, too. Both are in on this joke that I’m clearly not getting. Maddie fist pumps the guy as he walks past her back into the living room where I can hear the other men hollering and crying out over their never ending card game.

“What was that about? What was he talking about?”

“Oh, Miss Springer,” She puts her hand on mine as if she were the teacher in this situation, “He’s saying that the dumb broads that come over here aren’t here because they’re interested in being in a motorcycle club. They don’t give a shit what’s going on.”

“Maddie, come on…” I press the reset on the timer again as she sighs, clearly annoyed with me.

“Look, Miss Springer. All I’m saying is those whores in the living room are good for one thing and one thing only…if you know what I mean.”

“Maddie, do
you
know what you
mean?” I’m absolutely disgusted, but I know I’ve got to hide it. This here is nature versus nurture, and I’m coming up against an entire culture shock. But, boy, is it shocking.

“Sex. It’s like the girls my dad brings home. I never see them again unless they’re some club skank who gets around. There’s been a couple of them. One of them had breakfast with me once. That was nice. But he usually uses them and then kicks them to the curb before I go to school.”

Maddie returns her focus to her textbook, using one of my highlighters to circle a passage. But I’m too shocked to move. I had a suspicion. Well, more than a suspicion. I could have guessed at all this if I was being honest with myself. I knew I wasn’t Cal’s only girl. The way he bedded me was all the proof I needed that he wasn’t going home alone most nights. But the fact that Maddie knew was something entirely beyond me.

A few minutes tick away as I fall into a deep, dark hole of thoughts. What else does Maddie know? What has she seen? How could this be normal for her when the rest of her friends at school are going home to moms and dads who put dinner on the table and talk about their jobs in offices and cubicles?

More to the point, what exactly am I supposed to do about this? There are just so many things that both Maddie and Cal have said to me that have crossed the line – hell, they’ve crossed multiple lines, every line imaginable. They were so far into that gray area that I spent most nights after my tutoring sessions contemplating if what Maddie said put me in legal risk if I didn’t report Cal to child protective services. Does sleeping around with strange women count? How about sleeping with me?

My stomach is tied up in knots as I try to work this out. Luckily, Maddie has hit the five-minute mark of no cursing. I pull out a stick of gum from the inside of my purse and toss it to her. She dances in her chair as she chows down. I ask her quietly, “Are you hungry, Maddie?”

She answers so nonchalantly, as if I should be able to read the situation more clearly, “Yeah, duh. I don’t get to eat until my dad comes home, and who knows when that’s going to be!”

I look up at the clock. It’s nearly 7pm. Some students in my class would have been getting ready to go to bed at this point, not be waiting for dad to throw a frozen dinner on the table. I stand up and head towards the refrigerator. Inside are stacks and stacks of cans. It’s an endless supply of beer and liquor.

“Where’s the food, Maddie?”

“Dad brings home dinner most nights. It’s Friday, so he usually stops at this chicken place, Mr. Clucky’s. It’s good, but I always get a stomachache afterwards…”

I interrupt her, “Does he ever cook for you? Like, does he make you anything homemade?”

“Besides putting a frozen waffle in the toaster sometimes, no? But why would he? He gets the food for free. It’s all people on his routes.”

“Maddie, I really want to understand it here. What are routes and what is your dad doing tonight? Can you explain to me like I have no idea what your dad does?”

She sighs heavily and shuts her book. I sit next to her again and listen as she lowers her voice, “Miss Springer, my dad is on a run. It’s when he goes and checks on the people that work for the club. He makes sure they’re doing what they’re supposed to be doing. Like a boss!”

“Like a boss? But what are they supposed to be doing, and what do you mean by they work for the club?”

“They sell stuff for the club. Jager, the president, he gets his crew and my dad to go out on routes. My dad’s route is at that repair shop today. He goes with the other club members and collects money from the blow sales.”

Woah. Maddie just gave me way too much information. I don’t want to go any further, but I feel like I’m obligated to. As a teacher, as an adult, I have to know what she knows. I lower my voice to a whisper, as I ask her. “Blow? What’s blow, Maddie?”

“It’s that stuff those girls stick up their noses before they go and have sex with the guys. My dad doesn’t do it, and he won’t let me go near it. But everyone else does it. He says it makes them go crazy, and it’s only for stupid people without a brain.” Maddie looks back down at her hands nervously. She can tell that this isn’t a topic she’s supposed to be discussing with anyone but her father.

I put my hand on her shoulder and reassure her, “Your dad is right. That stuff is for people who aren’t as smart as you are.” I pause, trying to think if I should push this any further. But from the tired look on her face, I know it’s time to stop it right here. “Speaking of smart, you’re not going to ace this history exam unless we get back to studying. Open up your book and read to me about General Washington and his spies, okay?”

Another hour passes as both of us get back into the groove. Maddie’s really starting to pick up concepts and vocab words. And her cursing is improving with each new piece of gum I’m supplying her. Still, I remain in my chair, quiet and somber. I interject every so often to give Maddie corrections or to ask her questions from my teacher’s version of the textbook.

But every part of my mind is focused on a completely different project. I am turning over my words, rehearsing each line. I need to know exactly what I am going to say to Maddie’s father when he walks through those doors. And I need all the courage to confront him on how he is raising his child in this hell hole of a den.

CAL

I hear Michelle’s voice through the crowd in the living room, “What day did the Battle of Yorktown occur?” She sounds strong but tired. I look down at my watch to see she’s been here for at least three hours now. She’s never been here for a tutoring session this long. I thought I had managed to wait her out in those woods.

“September…September…September 26th?” Maddie pauses a minute before exclaiming, “No! The 28th! Like my birthday! September 28th!” I’ve never heard her this excited to be learning. Maybe there’s something worth it in these tutoring sessions. I mean, I don’t even know what the Battle of Yorktown is, let alone when it started.

“Okay, that’s great. Use that to remember the correct answer on Monday’s test. I guarantee you it’s going to be asked. Now, second question, who surrendered to General Washington?”

“Lord Cornwally.”

Michelle giggles a bit before correcting her, “Cornwallis.”

“Whatever. He was still a pansy.”

I try my best not to bust out laughing. Maddie certainly had my crude sense of humor. But I doubt a tightass like Michelle could really appreciate that.

“Why would you say that? He was a great leader. He was following commands. And, up until a point, the British were holding off the colonists and taking back their land bit by bit. Plus, think of all the men that could have died under his commands if he made them go up against the French and their navy.”

“He’s still a pansy, Miss Springer.”

“Gum, Maddie!” I peek through the door to see Maddie spit out a piece of gum into her hand and Michelle press a button on her phone.

“But he was! If I were him, I wouldn’t back down or surrender. I’d fight to the death! That’s what my dad would do.” I’m swelling with pride. My daughter thinks of me as some great general of troops, someone who would go down with the ship if need be. She’s right. I wouldn’t give in or give up just because the Coyotes had bigger motorcycles or more men. I’d just fight harder.

“Then your dad wouldn’t survive very long. War, especially during the 1700s was all about strategy and command. It’s like playing a game of chess. You have to think about what is ahead rather than what is in front of you. And, for the British, losing all those men against their enemy the French was not worth it in the long run when they could wait and see if the colonies collapsed and try to take it over at a later period of time.”

Of course she thinks surrendering is the right thing to do. She wouldn’t know a thing about staying strong or fighting with honor. All Michelle Springer knows is giving in when the going gets tough. She couldn’t even survive a ride with me.

Michelle pauses before moving on. I can tell she is hesitant to ask, “Maddie, what is your dad’s position in this, uh, club of his? I mean, does he have a title like Commander or General?”

Maddie laughs heartily, her mother’s belly laugh. “Oh no! Miss Springer, he’s not like General Washington. He’s a Vice. Like, Vice President. But no one calls him Mr. Vice President Cal. They just call him Cal.”

“Okay, then what does a Vice President do?”

I’m uneasy about these questions. What’s it to her? She wanted to be far away from this club stuff, not get more involved and in the know. That’s what she said to me when she broke up our sleeping together.

“He leads the men, puts them in their places. He makes sure everyone does what they are supposed to do. And he helps with the enforcers. They’re the guys who puts the hurt on the Coyotes or workers that don’t follow orders. That’s who he’s riding out with today. They went down to the garage to---”

I burst through the door, stopping Maddie from saying too much. I can’t trust that Michelle wouldn’t learn about where I was and then use it against me later down the road. Who knows, she may already be compromised or speaking to the pigs.

“Maddie,” I bark as I throw her the bag of Mr. Clucky’s takeout food, “Go upstairs and eat in your room. You’re done for tonight.”

“But, Dad! I haven’t finished reviewing the test questions.” She whines a bit as she turns to Michelle, looking for a little assistance.

Michelle, in her form fitting blue dress, hasn’t stopped staring at me. She puts her slender, painted fingers on the table and then stands up. As she begins to pack her textbooks and notecards, she turns to Maddie, “Your dad is right. You need to eat something. I’ll leave you with this so you can study on your own tonight after dinner. Okay?”

She hands Maddie a stapled bunch of papers that Maddie thumbs through quickly. Her eyes light up as she asks, “Is this the…?”

“A copy of Monday’s test questions? Yes. Yes it is. You didn’t get it from me, you got me?” Michelle grins at Maddie before standing straight up. She places her bag around her shoulder and begins to head out the door through the living room.

I block her from moving, motioning silently for Maddie to head upstairs. I’ve got a few bones to pick with her teacher before I can let her go. Michelle stands close to me, looking up at my stony, unmoving face. Her eyes tell a similar story. There’s something she wants to say to me, as well, something burning inside of her that’s not going to go away easily. We don’t break eye contact as we listen to Maddie trudge slowly upstairs with her backpack dragging behind her.

When we hear the sound of the bedroom door closing, Michelle takes a step back towards the table, her hands clasping around its side. I fight everything in my body telling me to push her back and take her right then and there. Even though I can’t stand this woman, every part of me wants her more than ever.

I, instead, move backwards towards the door. I’m not about to let my desire for her overcome the bigger issue here. “What are you doing talking to her about that stuff, Miss Springer?” I’m not calm. Not calm at all. She has no right to pull this shit after she decided to call it quits between the two of us. And her talking to my daughter, plying information out of her, is stepping over borders.

“I’m her teacher, Mr. Ross. It’s my job to know what my students are going through. It’s also my job to know that they are in a good, safe home. What she was telling me earlier about the things that go on here were…concerning.” She clutches onto the table more tightly now. I can see her knuckles going white.

“Concerning? Concerning! You saw what happened that night the Coyotes came and shot up the place. We protected you. For the last two weeks, I’ve sent men out to your place to watch after you day in and day out. You don’t think I do that with my own daughter? She’s safer here than she would ever be out there. That’s bullshit, Miss Springer.”

Sparks are flying in my mind as I try to shake off my anger. No one dares to question my ability to take care of my own daughter. Not even the men against me would touch a hair on my daughter’s head out of fear of what I would do to them. I’ll admit there have been attempts. Drunk men making comments about her, threats to her life – I squashed each and every one of them were with a knife to their body or a lasting punch to their gut.

I continue, not letting her get another damned word in, “You know what I think this is? This is you being all high and mighty.” I charge towards her, my finger pointed square in her face as I scream, “I let you go, and now you think you know better than us. You’re not better than us. You’re not better than any of us.”

She breathes in heavily as she stands up straight, pressing the folds of her dress. My shaking finger hits her in the forehead as she calmly replies back, “Frankly, Mr. Ross, I’m not a coke dealer living in this sex den with his young daughter. So yeah, I do think I am better than you.”

I can hear the hint of panic and fear. She’s terrified of me, but she is not about to let me see that. No other woman would ever do this. No one would ever be so bold than to come at me, to say what they really think. She wasn’t born to please men like me. And she wasn’t the type to bow down.

And suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. I drop my hand to her waist and pull her in as she struggles to break free from my grasp. Her waist presses up against the growing bulge in my jeans as she realizes what is going on. Her hand whips back and slaps me with a loud and stinging clap.

Out of instinct, I let go. She recoils back to her spot on the table. Her face is going flush, her eyes darting everywhere, looking for something. I can tell that she’s turning everything over in her mind. She doesn’t want this. Or does she?

But then she looks towards me, my arms dangling by my side as I wait for her move. Our heavy, angry breathing matches as her whole body and face transforms. I put out my arm once more, this time touching her arm. She doesn’t flinch. Instead, she stands straight and places one of her hands on my grizzly face, feeling the stubble along my jawline.

Michelle stands on her tippy toes and she kisses me, pulling my face into hers. She falls backwards a bit as I hold onto her for balance. We dance around the kitchen, holding each other in this embrace. Our mouths find each other over and over again as we come up for air gasping before diving back in.

We land on the countertop, me hoisting her up by her ass. She drapes her arms around me as I pull us apart. I give her a small grin before sinking to my knees. My hands remove each one of her black boots, unzipping them slowly. I take one of her bare feet and press the soft flesh of her big toe to my mouth, kissing it gently before placing it slowly into my mouth.

My tongue rolls around it while my hand massages the arch of her foot in the same pattern. She squeals, nearly kicking me. But as my mouth takes more of her toe in, I watch as she softens, falling backwards towards the wall for support. She lets out a small coo as I let go. I move my mouth upwards to her ankle, her smooth calf, the thickness of her thighs, and to where her hemline has crept near the line of her panties.

She stops me before I can go any farther. Like a gatekeeper she says to me slowly, “No, Cal. You can’t. We can’t do this.” Her voice is cracked, but it has that longing, that desire. I know she isn’t refusing me. She just needs to say we can’t do this to cover herself.

I look up at her and nod before I bite my teeth into the fabric of her cotton panties. She squeals but lifts her hips up off the counter, enough so I can pull them down to the ground with her shoes.

My hands part her legs slightly before I place my head between her thighs. Her hand is still on my head, but instead of moving me away, she runs her fingers through my hair and mutters “Cal” as I breathe hot air against her milky white skin.

She’s warm and wet as my prickly face brushes up against her shaved folds. Her smell dances in the air, like strawberries and summertime. I’ve never smelled or tasted someone so fresh and pure. She’s a drug I can’t keep myself from as I begin to kiss and lick at her sweet little pussy.

I place my hand at the top of her diamond opening, peeling apart her layers for me to explore. Through the darkness, I spot her clit as my tongue dashes over to play with the small pleasure spot. She instantly reacts as I feel her body spring in response. She lets out a muffled howl as I can tell she’s holding a hand to her mouth.

My own mouth covers her clit and begins to alternate sucks and kisses, pulling at the sensitive skin. I lower my tongue so it circles her hole, tasting the smooth ridges of the rest of her flesh. In circles it goes, over and over again until I can taste her moisture overwhelming my mouth. Michelle cries out as I move my finger inside her, fingering both sides of her walls and making sure none of her goes untouched.  

And then I feel it. The rush of her fluids hitting my mouth, the curl of her body back towards the wall, her soft screams. Her orgasm is as gentle and as powerful as she is. And I wait to come up until she has finished quivering under my mouth.

When I stand, I don’t wait for her response or her reaction. I pull her down from the cabinet with one arm and flip her onto her stomach. She attempts to wiggle free, but I hold her arms still as I pull down my pants and boxers. I enter her fast, not wanting to waste a minute. It had been almost three weeks since I had my last bit of her pussy, and I wasn’t going to wait another minute to experience it again. She’s already wet, waiting, desperately hungry for my cock.

She lowers herself onto the counter, her head resting on the marble. I place my hand on her breasts before yanking the fabric of her dress down. Her sleeve rips from my force, but I don’t care or stop. Her tits fly out into my waiting hands as I massage the nipples with my fingertips as my cock begins to rock inside of her.