Lyla
Oregon was a pretty state in the summer. Heading to Salem was a nice drive.
But no matter how nice it was, I still felt a lot of tension in my shoulders and back. I needed a really good workout or a really good f*ck, and since the only place I could get a really good f*ck was in Denver, where my hearts were, a good fight would do, and I so hoped I would get one here.
I stopped at a gas station, it was getting close to midnight. I was pumping my gas when three bikers pulled in to pump on the opposite side of mine. The bikes turned off, and I saw on their cuts they were the LOC chapter I was visiting tonight.
“Well, d*mn sweet thing, that’s a sweet ride,” the man with the appropriate name of Sweet on his cut who wasn’t a ranked member said to me. I noticed none of them were ranke
