Valkyries MC

When they stopped at a gas station for some drinks and snacks, the mood had already reached a new low. Once they had discovered that their bus for the way back to LA didn’t have any working AC, and heated up like an oven from its own engine, the usual suspects had started their happy-go-lucky nonsense, and a canon.

You know the types of songs, Christian feel-good sing-along stuff with lyrics as inane as an 8-year-old’s poetry, and you know the type of people, the ever smiling, pseudo-nice group leader wannabes who saw a chance to prove their positivity and thereby, somehow, their commitment to the community, or Jesus.

The singing had made a miserable addition to the brutal California summer, but it had thankfully died down after about an hour, when it had become too tiresome for them all. Then they had just stared at each other or out the windows in 120 degree heat, until Miss Jackson had asked Professor Tamblin if they could stop at the next gas station, just for the restroom, of course. The perky young woman would never admit to being uncomfortable.

Kathy was musing once again if Professor Tamblin was even a real professor. She was pretty sure he had never graduated from any serious institution. But then, at her college, any degree with a whiff of devil-worshiping liberalism — meaning any actually reputable academic institution with extravagances like scientific standards or critical thinking — would hinder more than help your career.

She thought back to arguing with her father. After getting her high school diploma, she had tried to convince him to let her attend a real college, or at least something far enough away from home that she would have needed to move. It had been hopeless. And most likely, it wouldn’t have worked out anyways. Her school diploma was worth about as much as Professor Tamblin’s title, anywhere outside their evangelical community and its homeschooling group.

Kathy Harrison would attend local Worthington college, like her father had done, and his father, and her older sister, and her older brothers. She should be glad, after all, that women were allowed the privilege in her generation, her father had said. Not that they really needed it, her mother had added, ever smiling. Attending Worthington was a Harrison family tradition, her sister had supplied. So it was decided that Kathy was going to Worthington. Now she was a sophomore, and didn’t feel like she had learned anything of value yet. Even the name sounded ridiculous, she thought, and yes, she knew it was named after its founder. Still…

As she stepped off the bus, even the California heatwave was a relief. At least the air was fresh. She trudged towards the promise of chill and refreshments inside the run-down gas station, ignoring her peers for a moment while she looked around. Kathy was reasonably used to heat. They all were. Tennessee wasn’t cold either. But this was another kind of heat, more intense, and dry as the desert. The air flared around her, the land was barren or in an advanced state of getting there. Reddish sand, carried out of some desert by some kind of freak storm, covered a few brave cactuses - and every other surface facing east. The gas station’s sign had been spared or cleaned, though it seemed to be as old and shabby as everything else, so why bother? A truck was parked partway around the back. Aside from that, it was just them and two old-school motorcycles.

As they approached the gas station, the doors opened and two bikers left the store, both women, both blond and tanned. Heading to their bikes, clad in leather vests with their colors and as little as possible otherwise, they made known how funny the overdressed group of sweaty students was to them. One of them pointed at Kathy and whistled, probably complimenting her impressive pit stains more than her unassuming appearance. She ignored them. She didn’t really care. Nonsense like that rarely scared her as much as it should have. Plus, since she had snuck a few episodes of some cheap Sons of Anarchy knock-off on her phone once, she liked the style.

A few of her classmates predictably made a show of how shocked and appalled they were by the women’s behavior. Kathy just peeked a glance at their backs. The design on their backs marked them as members of Valkyries MC, the emblem a blonde woman with angel wings, holding a sword, clad only in a bikini that seemed to be made out of chainmail. Cute!

She would have to feign some discomfort later. And she would have to hang out with some people, lest word of her asocial behavior reach her family, again. But for now, she crossed the threshold into the marginally air-conditioned bliss of the gas station with a ding from the door, breathed in deeply, went to the cooling unit and held one of the cold plastic water bottles to her neck, suppressing a moan of pleasure. A feeling of clarity crept back into her brain. She didn’t regret this field trip. In fact, she had actively talked her father into letting her go. But on the bus ride, she had come very close to regret.

The actual purpose of the trip was obviously not worth mentioning. Some collection of Christian art and artifacts that some group had collected and presented to an adoring public of like-minded fundamentalists. None of it was authentic, Kathy was sure. But the investment of a flight from Nashville and and a few nights’ stay in Los Angeles demanded an appropriately full itinerary, with a few more activities. And more importantly, these days were a chance to breathe some air out of town, even if their group wasn’t allowed to do anything interesting.

As the door’s ding sounded again, and not for the first time, Kathy opened her eyes again and looked around. Groups of students flocked together around the small store. The middle-aged Hispanic dude behind the counter seemed to be as baffled as the bikers by their ultra-proper way of dressing, before the soccer match on his small TV caught his attention again. Hanging besides some yellow press at the counter, Kathy spied a key tied to a wooden block, the word toilet scrawled on it in rubbed-off black sharpie. Kathy decided to use the opportunity before everyone else did and a line would form.

A gender-neutral bathroom, how very Californian. She stifled a grin. Kathy considered herself not actually brainwashed by the evangelical propaganda around her. Using a gender-neutral bathroom, even it was just the bathroom, was a kind of silent rebellion. As she grabbed the key, two motorcycle engines roared outside and started to faint.

“Out, to the left and around the back.” The cashier had a kind face, but he didn’t even look away from his TV. She raised the water bottle from her neck but he waived her off. “I guess you’re the tenthousandth customer or something.”

A little startled for a moment, she finally just said “Thank you” and went to search for the restroom.

The small room was cleaner than she expected, but almost as hot and musky as the bus. She plopped down and stared at some dents in the door, as well as a large, chapped scrawling calling President Clinton a pussy. Her mind went back to the the bikers. The women had looked pretty attractive. Kathy liked strong women. However, they were a rare sight in her world.

Kathy had known since she was twelve that she was gay, or at least bi or whatever — personally she liked the word fruity. She had heard that on one of her secret excursions into Lesbian TikTok. But there was really no point in even admitting things to herself until she found a way to get away from home. And with no marketable skills, no friends outside of little ol’ Jameson Grove, and most miserably, the thought of ruining her family’s reputation, she wasn’t sure that was ever going to happen.

She had seen one of her older cousins kiss a man once, years ago, unnoticed by the two of them. And she had seen that boy’s reputation and life destroyed by their other cousins, after rumors about his friend had started. They had been to his funeral after he had hung himself, her parents drowning his in false pity.

She shuddered. Sometimes the inevitability of her situation caught up with her. You can always leave when it gets too bad. She had to remember that, remind herself of that. And it wasn’t like it was all bad. She was well taken care of. And her family wasn’t evil or anything. Just …

Scratching at the door got her out of her depressing thoughts. Please don’t tell me there’s an animal out there! She was not a fan of rodents. And didn’t California have dingos or something like that? Well, she still didn’t want to stay in this overheated box any longer than necessary, so she finished up and washed her hands, before carefully opening the door, ready for any gross animal, and … the handle didn’t move. Seriously? She rattled it a bit. Nothing. Was that thing stuck? She pulled on it, pushed it a little bit. Still nothing. It felt like something was blocking its movement on the outside. You have got to be joking…

A prank like this was just what the future leaders of their church would consider peak comedy. Kathy rolled her eyes. She would not stoop to yelling for help. That only got you mockery for weeks. And as stuffy as the toilet was, she did have her phone. And sooner or later, someone else would want to use the restroom. So Kathy just sat down on the toilet, discovered there was no cell service, and started playing chess against a bot.

She got into a heated battle over the enemy queen quite early in the game and forgot about her situation for a short time, until a roaring cavalcade of motorcycle engines passing by made her look up. It had been like six or seven minutes. She furrowed her brows and got up again. Giving the door a try, it didn’t budge. She bumped into it a little. Nothing. Outside, the noise was quieting down. She thumped against the door, imagining some of the girls standing outside and struggling not to snicker.

This was so annoying. They didn’t even mean to be mean. They just didn’t know any better, and among her idiot classmates, it counted as unruly and racy behavior, as going a little wild on the trip. But this was getting ridiculous!

She banged against the door again. Finally, she heard steps coming towards her. Schooling her face into a less annoyed, more amused, laughing-with-you kind of expression, she waited. A sneering grunt accompanied the sound of something getting moved from the door and apparently thrown away, before the door was tossed open. For a moment, she was blinded by the sudden light, but she quickly realized none of her trip mates had freed her.

The girl in front of her was quite a sight. Her hair wasn’t short, longer than Kathy’s bob in fact, but an sidecut gave it a different character entirely. Her face was young, not much older than Kathy, but it was used to the outside, well-cut and alluring. She was wearing only leather pants, a bikini top that said Sexy Bitch, the same biker vest as the women before, and sunglasses. And she was fit! Kathy’s eyes wandered from the hair to her well-muscled, tattooed arms, then on to her six-pack.

Apparently, the other woman was as surprised by Kathy as vice versa. A look from her reminded Kathy of her own special attire, and got her to drag her eyes from the girl’s mouth-watering physique. If Biker Girl noticed, she didn’t show it. She also glossed over the fact that Kathy had been locked in here by propping up a chair against the door.

“You done?” her savior asked plainly.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” Kathy answered, startled. She pressed past the girl who left her the bare minimum of room to do so. Kathy was keenly aware of her breasts touching the other girl’s vest. Maybe Biker Girl had noticed the stares and was teasing her. Get over yourself! She’s just being obnoxious or clumsy.

The door closed behind her. Kathy took a breath before walking around the gas station again. She looked around, confused for a moment.

Where’s the bus? She looked again. Where’s the bus?! Jogging forward, she checked around the corner, if the vehicle had suddenly hidden there. No! No way! Even Miss Jackson and Professor Tamblin were smart enough to count their students before leaving.

Well, evidence suggested they were not. For a few moments, she just stared into the California plains. How did this happen to her? She checked her phone. No signal, unsurprisingly. Also, 7% charge. This was going to be fun to explain to, well, everybody. She turned towards the store, shaking her head. As she pushed the door, she ran into it rather than walking through. What? She looked around, confused. A sign, or rather a ripped of piece of cardboard, was taped to the glass with gaffer tape. Closed due to personal emergency, it read. For a moment, Kathy just stopped. She considered the possibility that she was still being pranked. She looked inside. Nothing. She looked around. The truck was gone. A single motorcycle was parked by the road, a broad and heavy piece of chrome. Otherwise, there was nothing.

Kathy was alone. “What the fuck!?” she screamed into the heat.

She still stood in front of the store entrance and scratched her neck when she heard foot steps from the side.

“Oh yeah, Mannie leaves early on Thursdays to pick up his kid,” Biker Girl commented when she got closer.

Kathy just looked at her dumbfounded.

“So, you with that tour group from the bus?” the other girl asked, still neutral and relaxed.

“Yeah,” Kathy answered slowly, “I guess.”

“They left,” biker girl stated.

“No shit.” It had slipped out. Kathy winced. “Pardon my French.”

Biker girl showed her a lop-sided grin. It was cocky and cute, and reminded Kathy of the strong presence of abs in this conversation. “Don’t know enough about Europe. But I can give you a ride.”

Kathy looked at her. “Excuse me?”

The girl pointed to her motorcycle. “I can give you a ride, at least as far as the next phone or cell tower. Unless you want to wait here for your group.”

Sitting by a crappy gas station alone, or taking a ride on a motorcycle with some hot abs … attached to a woman who surely had a great personality and that Kathy totally hadn’t just reduced to a piece of meat … or muscle. Was waiting here the smarter option? Did she care?

“Yeah, thanks!” Kathy replied, a little squeaky.

“Happy to help,” biker girl replied, voice still dry.

She walked over to her bike, followed by Kathy. Her hog, they would have called it on Kathy’s TV show. They also wore leather pants like that on the show. And their asses looked almost as amazing in them. The girl opened a small compartment in the back to produce a helmet she handed to Kathy. Then she swung into the saddle. Putting the helmet on carefully, Kathy tried to move calmly and confidently as she climbed into the seat behind her while gathering up her long skirts. Biker girl grabbed her helmet from the handlebar and put it on. Then, with a kick, she started the engine.

Kathy felt the other girl’s presence very acutely, and suddenly didn’t know what to do with her hands. She carefully put them on her sides. Immediately, she felt a snicker.

“That won’t keep you up on here,” biker girl explained. Yeah, Kathy knew that. She slung her arms around the girl’s mid and scooted close to her.

“Lean into the curves when we ride, like I do.” Kathy actually knew that too, again thanking illegally streamed network television. She nodded. From her position, she not only felt Biker Girl’s incredible muscles and the underside of her breasts, but also had a pretty great view of the California landscape. Biker Girl moved and Kathy felt it, making her stomach do funny little things. Wow, you’re as bad as a teenage boy.

“I’m Katherine, by the way,” Kathy yelled a little louder than necessary.

“I’m Tory,” her driver answered. Her voice was much higher when she didn’t take care to sound cool, Kathy noticed half-subconsciously. It made her smile a little.

Tory went ahead, making any more conversation difficult. Carefully, she steered her bike onto the road,then sped up. The wind was flying around them and the air was cooling. Kathy still smiled.