Page 2 of Sold to the Bikers

"If she's as cute as you, I'd look towards the back, where the lights are lower." The blond one grins. "Happy to show you the way."

I lean his way before snapping back straight and pointing towards the back. What am I thinking? “No thanks! That way?”

What is it with these guys? Is it the vanilla essence attracting them? There are sexy women all over this bar that I bet would have no problem showing them a good time. The best they’ll get out of me is a tasty muffin.

God, if these guys are having this kind of an effect on me, I can only imagine what Sandra’s up to.

The big one nods. "Can't miss it. Just don’t get too close to the stage or someone might offer you a job."

I blink, twice, then spin on my heel, leaving them behind. And this time, very pointedly not looking back, I weave through the crowd.

It's not just bikers, even if they make up most of the clientele. There's a group about my age who look like college students in one of the booths, probably celebrating the end of the year. I try not to feel resentment. It's not their fault a car crash stole that carefree life from me, but in another world maybe I’d be there with them, and Sandra would be graduating from high school with her old friends.

Distracted, my elbow goes straight into the gut of a huge, grizzled biker. He coughs and looks down at me in shock.

“Sorry!” I squeak, half expecting him to backhand me.

"Easy, mouse," he says with a laugh, stepping out of my way.

The crowd finally opens up, and the floor drops so suddenly that if there wasn't a railing, I would've gone right over the edge into a plush, half-circle booth. At the far end is a stage, and on it—oh my God. The job comment clicks into place.

What is my little sister doing in a strip joint?

The dancer winds around the pole like she's trying to have sex with it, while the tables in the lowered area are packed with cheering, leather clad men, many who clearly don’t need to come here, because they already have barely dressed women hanging all over them.

Frantic, I search the crowd. With bright lights pointed straight at the stage, the seating area is shrouded in darkness and hard to make out, and from the look of some of the couples in the booths, I’m not sure I want to see what’s actually going on.

“Sandra!” I yell.

There she is, hanging out in one of the couch sections. I recognize some of the people she’s with as friends I keep telling her to stay away from, because they'll drag her to places like this.

Quick, down the stairs, and then try to keep my eyes away from the stage, where the nearly naked woman is shaking her ass in a way that defies gravity. This is too much. "Sandra!"

“Nat?” A head pops up from one of the booths.

There's a mix of relief and disappointment in her features. I know that look too well, and a little of my anxious anger melts away. She's been trying really hard, working on her GED, getting herself a part time job to help out, doing stuff around the apartment. The girl that came out of rehab was very different from the one I drove there.

Still, this is a definite breach of our agreement.

She jumps up from the couch to run over to me. "I haven't drunk or done anything, I promise. They took me here, but all I've had is water."

"And a lap dance," yells one of her friends which makes my normally very forward little sister blush like a tomato.

"And a lap dance," she agrees, nodding in embarrassment.

I look around us, not seeing any sign of male strippers. I bet the guys here loved that show. As long as it wasn't more than that, I don't even care. She's an adult. I just don't want Sandra to fall back on the habits that she's worked so hard to beat. She's had a life no teenager should've gone through. We both have.

"I'm taking you home, okay?"

She nods. "Yeah. I'm sorry I lost track of time. Jerry was supposed to drive, but he had a couple of beers. I swear I didn't know we were going to a bar, not until we were already here."

"I'm proud of you for calling." I take her hand to pull her with me, as we head back up into the main bar.

She blinks at me like I'm crazy. "But—"

"But nothing. Well… I’m not thrilled you still have your fake ID, but—”

“There you are. Didn’t think I’d find you back here but can’t say I’m sorry I did.”