Hotties Fur Hire

Ep 2

What the actual f**k had just happened?

Logan kicked the kickstand of his jet-black Harley and leaned the bike on it.

“Shitshitshitshitshit!” he ran both hands through his hair, making it stick out at odd angles from his head. This shouldn’t be happening.

The Club was just opening up for the work crowd. It would be busy serving food until nine in the evening, when local bands would be playing.

He looked at the sky. A lone eagle soared overhead. Brilliant, casting a dirty look at the now tiny dot in the sky, Logan took a deep breath and stomped his way into his club.

What the hell had happened? He had gone over to meet her so she wouldn’t feel intimidated when they met up at the event; she had helped organise. Now she felt like the most terrifying woman she had ever met. Not terrifying in a scary way. Although, what he thought of her was terrifying. No, in the way his animal felt about her, the usually psychotic beast was quiet. Sitting in his middle like a pup. And that was terrifying.

He wondered if she would open the file; he had sent to her.

The d**k of a husband who obviously needed therapy because she was stunning.

Damn Sookie, she had called in a favour, one that he couldn’t have turned down. He owed her big time. He wasn’t a Hottie Fur Hire unlike some of his kind. No beef with them, though you did what you could to make a living. But deep down he also thanked her, even if it was just for an evening or a couple. She was his perfect woman.

Hell, if he didn’t have a club to look after, he wouldn’t mind dating women for a living. Why did that thought send his stomach sour? He shook his head and made his way into the bar. It had just opened for the end of work crowd. The band tonight were The Bash Brothers, a guitarist and vocal duo who drew in the local groupies like flies round…

“Logan, the f**k?” It was Rhett, his second and his manager.

“What Rhett? I’m really not in the mood,” He grumbled, walking up to where Rhett was polishing the shine off already shiny glass.

“Sookie called. She’s madder than a wasp in a soda can” he nodded to the phone on the wall. He said in that smooth southern accent. She was very pissed if she had to use the landline.

“Shit.” he dug his phone from his pocket. He had turned it off when he had visited Shanna. Sure enough, twelve missed calls and twenty-three messages.

He turned the phone off again. Sookie could wait with whatever it was she needed from him this time.

“Tell her I’m out of range, next time she calls.” Rhett nodded and picked up the next spotlessly clean glass and began polishing that.

He brought up Ben Dover file and yeah; he was petty and juvenile, but it was a great name so he changed the file name. Added the conversation he had with the d**k spawn.

He clicked another file, a colour shot of Shanna popped up. It was of her leaning her head on the forehead of a beautiful paint horse, her hands smoothing his cheeks. The animal had its eyes closed and was leaning into her, completely trusting her. There were tears dripping from her nose and she looked heart broken. He had found out later that a bear had mauled the paint horse. Justice. They had put him down moments after that photo had been taken. If he was a gambling man, he would have placed the entire club on who had done it. Not what. He had found all the pictures in social media and on the web. The ones of Chode-hair he had found in far more dubious places. Places where normal people didn’t get to look.

She had a profound effect on him. What had started out as a quick buck and a favour to his sister has turned in to a borderline obsession. She was beautiful. She was smart. Other pictures played over the screen, her riding the black and white horse bareback with no reins guiding the powerful animal with her body and legs.

Pictures of her walking out her door, at work, in the park, watching children play with a wistful expression on her face. These weren’t his photos ,though he had found them all on Chode faces secret accounts. Had he mentioned he wasn’t just a Hottie or a club owner?

Closing the file, he opened d**k Smears (yes, he would keep giving the ass nicknames) file again and read what had gathered so far. It wasn’t pretty.

A soft knock sounded at his office door, he closed the laptop.

“Yes,” he called, leaning back in the chair. It was time to be the boss of a nightclub and the alpha of a pack of Broken Wolves.

The woman who entered the small office was his least favourite woman in the world. She had tried and failed many times to seduce him. And it looked like she was horny for him again. As she closed the door and leaned back against it.

“Hey now boss man,” she drawled in what she thought was a sexy accent, when in fact it just made his skin crawl.

“What is it, Crystal? Isn’t it time your shift started?” he lent back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles.

“Well, ain’t you a pickle today?” her pout was nauseating.

“I have work to do, and by now you should know I’m not interested in a quick f**k in this shithole of an office, so if you don’t mind and want to keep your job. I suggest you take that pout and get on with tending the bar,” he smiled. But not the stunning ones he gave to Shanna.

“Aww, no need to be like that Logan.” she sat on the edge of the desk and played with the hem of her mini skirt. “You won’t regret it boss man, Crystal knows how to please a man.” the tip of her tongue peeped out from her lips and Logan thought he would gag.

He sighed and got to his feet, towering over her.

“There is not a chance in hell that you are going to get anywhere with me,” he opened the office door. “This is your final warning. You won’t be hard to replace.” She turned on her six inch stiletto heels and slammed the door after her.

And now he felt like dirt. But she had to get the message, eventually. She wasn’t his type, all bones and red lipstick. He liked his women with something to hold on to, like the curvy delicious Shanna. just thinking about her sweating and panting under him had his d**k growing in his jeans. s**t, he had to stop thinking about f*****g her. He was a pretend boyfriend, only there to make an asshole jealous. But most of him and that traitorous voice in the back of his mind wouldn’t let her go.

He got up, adjusted his d**k, and took a deep breath. He would do this thing, get paid a stupid amount of money for taking a beautiful woman to an evening event and then forget she ever existed. Yeah, right.

Out in the club, people were showing up for happy hour, which in fact lasted from 4pm to 9pm. The work crowd was usually the first in, the younger patrons of the club. Most would leave around eight. Some would get plastered and need cabs calling for them. The bar girls and servers were busy making the customers feel at home, handing out menus and filling coffee cups. The bar at the back of the room only had one old faithful nursing a half pint of beer. Reg would bum drinks all night again until they paid his money into his bank in the morning.

Looking at the clock on the wall, it surprised him to see it was 6pm already. Where had that time gone?

He sauntered over to Rhett, who was getting his ear chewed off by Donna.

“I’m heading out for a bit. Look after the place for me,” Donna shot him a hate filled glare. He chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t worry Donna, I’m sure someone in here will scratch that itch for you before the end of the night,” he clicked his tongue and turned away from her.

“Asshole.” Donna said under her breath, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

What was it with girls and rejection? It wasn’t like he flirted with her or anything quite the opposite.

Outside, a group of his MCs pulled up on their hogs, the roar of engines deafening in the early evening twilight.

He greeted them one by one, aware that time was slipping by fast, and he might be late picking up Shanna and he still had to swing by his cabin to get changed.

Ten minutes later, he was in the shower washing the day off his body, trying and failing to not think about a certain curvy woman.

Ten minutes later, dressed in faded Levi’s with holey knees, a black tee and a leather biker jacket, this one with no patches on it. He grabbed his keys, ran around to his carport and climbed inside his 1968 Shelby Mustang. He had lovingly restored over the years, from practically a shell he had found in an the old barn when he had bought the club.

She was now a growly, mean and a beautiful woman that purred under his touch. He pulled out from the carport with a slide and a rooster tail of mud. Looking forward to the next few hours getting to know a woman that, until a few hours ago, hadn’t even known existed.