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    FREE RIDERS
     
    I drew back hesitantly at the volume of the music pounding through the big oak door, then quickly reprimanded myself. No Sabrina, you can’t quit now. Grow a pair and walk in. I took a deep breath and smoothed down my leather jacket, regretting my last-minute purchase of a form-fitting dress as I pulled up on my neckline without letting my hemline creep up.
     
    “Coming in, Sugar?” The bulked-up bouncer smiled at me. The tattoo wrapped around his right forearm marked him as a member of the Asphalt Knights.
     
    My friend pushed me from behind as she whispered in my ear. “You wanted to live on the edge, Sab,” she reminded me. She was right. It was time for me to shed my good girl image and get my nose out of my books. I took a step forward.
     
    “You ladies got invitations?” The bouncer asked.
     
    My friend stepped in front of me and reached into her purse for our invites, handing them over without a trace of fear.
     
    The bouncer looked over the shiny pieces of paper. “Melina Samuels and Sabrina Wilkens. IDs?” He winked at me when I held out my driver’s license with a trembling hand. He glanced at our IDs before handing them back and stepping aside to open the door.
     
    “Welcome, ladies.”
     
    I swallowed loudly and walked through the door. The wall of noise and the smell of motor oil and cigarette smoke washed over me as I took in the scene with a sigh of relief. This didn’t look like anything too out-of-control. I’d expected everyone to be carrying guns and making drug deals and a huge fight to break out without provocation. Instead, a group of men were standing around some motorcycles talking shop and a couple of pool games were going on in a corner.
     
    I turned to share my observations with my friend, only to find that she had disappeared in the crowd. Drumming up some false bravado, I approached the bar and ordered my first rum and coke of the night. I laughed as the bartender flirted outrageously with me, not used to the male attention I was getting. I was pulled onto the dance floor numerous times by multiple men until I begged off, citing a need to visit the bathroom. The bartender waved me to the back of the building, saying the bathroom was on the right-hand side.
     
    I wobbled away, abruptly aware of my lightweight status. I walked to the back of the room looking for a sign indicating the washroom. As I reached for the knob, a large hand gripped my wrist, making me jump.
     
    “I don’t think you’re ready for what’s behind that door, doll,” a deep voice said from above me. I looked up, way up, and stared into the face of a giant. The heat emanating from his body filtered through my leather jacket and thin dress, making me wish I was wearing more clothing.
     
    “I was… looking for a washroom,” I stuttered.
     
    With his hand still gripping my wrist, the other arm snaked around my mid-section, pulling me closer against his body. “That’s not the washroom.”
     
    “What’s behind that door?”
     
    “Those are rooms for people who want a little… privacy,” he replied, and I felt myself blush at the implication. He took a step back and released his hold around my stomach, but kept his grip on my wrist. “C’mon,” he said as he pulled me behind him along the back wall, leaving a space for me to travel in his wake, to enter through another door.
     
    I assumed he was taking me to the bathroom, so I froze when we entered a quiet hallway. I looked around the hallway and noticed we were alone. My heart started thumping loudly as I realized I could be raped by the looming figure that held me captive.
     
    He must have seen something in my expression, because he let go of my wrist and raised his hands. “Don’t worry Doll, I won’t hurt you.”
     
    I took a step back as he came forward. The back of his hand ran down my arms, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “I don’t need to force women to get them into my bed,” he whispered