Rory
Is this too skimpy? Do I even dare go out there in this? I worry my bottom lip nervously.
When Cherry and Opal managed to get traction for their costume party idea in the common room, and they told me they were going to be sexy stewardesses, my bright idea was that I could dress up as one of the sluts. Surprise them with the old switcharoo. I thought it sounded funny, but now?
Well, I’m really not used to wearing this little in public. There’s no way Jasmine is going to wonder if I got lost on the way to church this time.
It’s no worse than going to the beach, I try to tell myself. My top is just a pink demi cup bra, and all I’ve got over it is a fine mesh tank top. I’m not showing anything, but I know my guys have curious fingers. It could change very quickly, if I don’t watch out. Below is a black and pink miniskirt that’s just long enough to cover my butt and with a waist way below my belly button. Not much room for adjustment, but I’m covered—just. Unlike Cherry, I don’t have the guts to go commando, but I’m getting good use out of the panties and stockings that I used to sexy up my flight attendant uniform on the plane. I feel there’s a little extra slut factor with the garters coming out from under the skirt. And then high black heels, my hair up in a messy ponytail, red lipstick and eyes so smoky you’d think I just escaped a house fire.
Now if I can only remember some of the dance moves Opal taught me, I think I’m going to be getting real lucky tonight. Of course my odds are good for that most nights, as long as at least one of my guys is around, and tonight all three of them are going.
They wouldn’t show me their costumes either, so I can’t wait to see what they’ve come up with.
A last glance in the mirror, barely recognizing the sexed-up woman staring back at me, a deep breath, and then I leave the room, my heels clacking on the floor. At least I don’t have to wobble on the far, since I used the room that was “mine” when I first came to the club, so the guys wouldn’t see me before I was ready.
Am I ready? I think I’m ready.
When I come out into the common room, the party is already moving. The lights are down, heavy rock music is playing, and Chef and Jewel are busy handing out drinks. Not surprisingly, Chef’s not in costume, but Jewel has put together a mad hatter costume that’s both cute and shows a lot of cleavage. She’s going to have Chef all over her all night—lucky girl, since for some reason she seems to love him.
Who am I kidding? We all do, even if he’s a cantankerous prick. But he’s our cantankerous prick, and when push comes to shove, he doesn’t turn you in for stealing sandwiches when you’re not supposed to be in the common room. I wave as I pass by, but I’m not here for drinks, at least not yet. Jewel smiles big and Chef rolls his eyes.
“Oh my God, you look amazing!” Cherry and Opal pop out from the middle of a group of bikers, waving them off when they yell for her to come back. She yells over her shoulder, “It’s still early boys. You’ll all get your chance!”
“Fucking sex on heels,” Opal agrees, looking me up and down. If I swung that way, I’m pretty sure my odds would be pretty good for her dragging me off somewhere dark and teaching me a thing or two, but I’ve got my boys to keep me happy and that’s plenty for me. She grins appreciatively. “Your guys are lucky you’re so loyal, because you could pull every single biker in this room with that outfit. Holy shit.”
Cherry nods. “If they weren’t all terrified of Eagle-eye, the brothers might forget about who you belong to, looking like that. You could pass for one of the sluts, any day of the week.”
The way Bull, Shrapnel and Diesel keep complimenting me, I’ve gotten a lot more used to hearing stuff like that, but I still struggle to just accept them right out of hand. After a whole life of doing my best to measure up, and at least qualify as adequate, it’s hard to believe it when there are people who think you’re the best thing that ever happened to them, just by being you.
I think that’s what family is supposed to be, even if you’re not always related by blood.
“But look at you two.” I gesture at both of them. “The way you’re dressed up, they’re not even going to give me a second look.”
True to their promise, they’ve dressed up as stewardesses, if a stewardess’s only job was to get passengers to join the mile high club. Uniforms, but the skirts hemmed up short, blazers, but the blouse underneath open so that there’s a generous view of the sheer underwear underneath that’s hardly covering anything. Fuck-me pumps, little hats with that match the uniforms, pinned to their updos, and and pins on their chest that say, “Ask me about my in-flight service.”
“And even if they do, I brought a secret weapon.” With a sly grin, Cherry tugs her skirt up high enough to show that there’s nothing on underneath, then drops it again. She winks. “Don’t worry, babe. We’ll keep the rest distracted until the right bikers find you.”
You’d think I’d be past being shocked at this point, but somehow, even after months at the club, I’m still thrown off by someone casually flashing me.
“She’s blushing.” Opal smirks and points.
“Gonna have to work on that if you’re going to slut it up, girl.” Cherry laughs and then suddenly her eyes widen. “Oops, that’s our cue to get out of here. Have fun.”
Huh?
“I was looking for my old lady, but I think she ditched us, and you’re pretty fucking hot. Looking for some fun?” A familiar scratchy voice speaks right behind me, just as his arms embrace me from behind, pulling me right up against him. I have no idea what Diesel’s costume is, but it apparently involves a bare chest. And a meaty lump further down, though that might not strictly be part of the outfit.
“Do you always jump random sluts when your old lady isn’t around” I’m only teasing, since he obviously knows that it’s me. I’m just glad my costume works.
“Only when that slut is my old lady. Fuck, I wanna throw you over my shoulder and carry you right back to the room so I can show you exactly how a good slut should be treated.” The sexy promise in his growl already has me tingling in anticipation.
I turn around to face him, putting me face to chest with his big pecs. I place a kiss right on his nipple before I take a step back to see what he’s got going on.
Then I laugh. “You make a very sexy cowboy.”
It might not be the biggest step—I mean, isn’t a cowboy basically just a biker on a horse—but when you look as good as him wearing it, I don’t mind at all. Worn jeans, leather chaps over them, cowboy boots, a leather vest, but no shirt underneath, so that his amazing six-pack is out for everyone to see. Then a Stetson hat, just a little crooked, and a coil of rope hanging from his belt, opposite the gun in the holster. Unlike most costume parties, I suspect his is real.
“Well, I guess that’s a stallion I’m willing to ride.” I couldn’t keep a straight face if I tried.
“Hung like a horse too.” He smirks and tips his hat, then pats the coil of rope. “And a lasso for particularly playful fillies.”
“Don’t let him fool you. What you need is a thorough checkup so you know you’re safe to ride.” Shrapnel comes in from the side, and I’ll just say that if that was what my regular doctor looked like, I’d be a lot more excited to go in for checkups.
His outfit is simple, but effective. His tight white pants do absolutely nothing to hide the sizeable bulge inside them. Shirtless is obviously a theme. He’s wearing a white lab coat, but it’s left wide open to expose the chest I love to press myself against while playing with his nipple studs. Those are still in, so I guess he’s a bit of an alternative type of doctor, but I can work with that. A stethoscope hangs around his neck, and he’s carrying a clipboard. On it is a graph that looks suspiciously like a big dick, with the caption, ‘Length inversely related to the amount of clothes Rory is wearing.’
He holds it up and points well up on the graph, grinning mischievously. “With that outfit on, you seem to be charting right about here, but I’d love to take you to my office for a closer examination.”
I glance down at the bulge. Maybe not too far off to be honest.
His grin widens. “And while we’re there, maybe we can check your gag reflex.”
After making sure they both get a very obviously pleased look up and down their sexy bodies, I glance around curiously. “We’re missing Bull.”
Diesel grins. “Right behind you.”
And if I thought I was going to win the prize for the skimpiest outfit, it turns out I’m not even close. Not when Bull shows up in a pro wrestler outfit that’s nothing more than tight, skimpy shorts that are glittery silver, and barely containing the monster inside them. He’s got a huge championship belt, tight wrestler boots and straps tied around the dip between the bulges of his upper arm muscles, but that’s it, except for a folding chair that he’s carrying as a prop. As soon as he sees that I’ve noticed him, he stops to flex. Holy crap, that sight’s enough to make a girl go weak in the knees.
“You look ready to pile drive me.” I hold my hands up, pretending to be scared.
“Pile drive you into the mattress, maybe.” He laughs and sweeps me up into his arms before I even have a chance to protest. “Fuck, you look hot. I’m glad you’re ours, ’cause otherwise you’d be giving the rest of the girls a run for their money. Hell, they’d be struggling to keep up.”
A hand slips up my skirt. “Guess we’ll have to peel this off first. And here I thought you might’ve gone commando for us.” I’m not sure if Diesel is disappointed that he doesn’t have immediate access, or looking forward to pulling my underwear off. Maybe both.
“Hands out! Jeez, at least wait until we’re somewhere private.”
Shrapnel turns my face away from Bull’s chest so he can kiss me. “I thought you were dressed up as a slut. Open to us anywhere, anytime.”
“Hey! Opal explained to me how that’s not true.” I bat his hand away with a laugh, that only gets stronger when he makes a mock sad face.
It’s funny. My everyday bikers are hard, dangerous, well aware of their honor and duty to the club, but I love that they’re able to just be silly with me too. Bull seems ready to just carry me off, and I don’t even hate the idea, but I only just got here.
“Can we at least get a drink first?”
He makes a dramatic turn towards the bar and carries me all the way there, before putting me down on one of the stools. Chef provides us with drinks, a couple of snide comments, then goes to serve a fireman with a mermaid in his lap. Her seashells seem to be missing, but no one seems to care.
“Go figure,” Diesel starts before taking a sip of his whiskey. “You come to a biker club, and you’re stuck with a cowboy, a doctor and a wrestler. Is that how you saw your night going?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s such a terrible result, especially when they look like this.” I put my margarita down so I can gesture at their impressive bodies.
Shrapnel leans in. “I was thinking about dressing up like a plane, so I could go down on you. But I wasn’t sure if that was too soon.”
I blink at him, before I completely lose it. “You’re insane. And I love that about you. I just… I wasn’t ready for that.”
He nods, still straight-faced. “Too soon. Guess I figured.”
We joke around for a while with our drinks, but the guys don’t seem to be able to keep their hands off me. Stroking my arms, or my thighs, or catching a brief kiss. It doesn’t take long before the alcohol combined with the constant attention makes me consider that maybe heading off to the room isn’t such a terrible idea after all. And the thick bulges in their pants—or sparkly silver shorts—give me the sense that they agree.
I put my empty glass down, then slide off my stool, taking a moment to steady myself on the heels. I’m far from drunk, but the alcohol doesn’t help exactly, either. After a quick glance around, I reach up under my skirt and tug my panties down past my hips. I’ve got all of their attention now. I let them drop to around my ankles, step out of them, then crouch very, very carefully to pick them up. Grinning at Diesel, I hand them to him. “So… time to start the rodeo?”
For once, Bull isn’t the fastest to sweep me up.
As Diesel carries me laughing out of the common room and down the hallway to the free room, closely followed by Shrapnel and Bull, I’m trying to imagine any girl luckier than me. Surrounded by the family I never expected to find, friends that I never expected to meet, and three lovers who’ll tear down the heavens and burn down hell to keep me safe, I’m struggling to imagine who that might be.
Now excuse me while I go get marvellously laid by my cowboy, doctor and wrestler.
(c) Stephanie Brother 2025
