Invaders from the Outer Rim Read Online Free PDF Page B

asked.
    Gisele looked up. She wore a surgical mask to protect herself from inhaling skin and nail filings. “What’s on your mind, Miss Margo?”
    “Sex stories about strange men.”
    Gisele giggled. “I hear gossip like that every day. It’s my job.”
    “Has it been weirder lately?”
    “It’s always weird.” Gisele shrugged. “If you like, I can lend you a book by Pat Califia. She does a nice job of explaining how our weirdest sexual desires are both normal and healthy. What color polish do you want today?”
    “Neon pink. I always love that pink,” Margo said.
    Rolling thunder blared outside the salon. It was the roar of big engines. Both women looked out the window. A biker gang was parking in the shopping center lot, and Margo saw twenty Harley-Davidson motorcycles representing the pride of the Black Roses Motorcycle Club. The leader of the gang, Big Daddy Rose, ambled into the nail salon. Gisele lowered her surgical mask and smiled.
    “Can I help you?” she asked.  
    Margo’s heart raced. Big Daddy Rose was six feet, eight inches of solid ebony with broad shoulders and an ivory smile. He smelled of sweat, sunshine, and gasoline. In total, a heady mix that was irresistible to the pastor’s wife.
    Big Daddy Rose splayed a hand and studied his fingertips. “See that? Working on an engine really fucks up your hands with grease and grime and shit. I need a deluxe pedi and mani.”  
    Gisele gestured at the seat beside Margo. “You can be next.”
    “Sweet.”  
    Big Daddy Rose lowered his bulk into the chair. He smiled at Margo. “Your hair looks fine. The frosted tips make your eyes sparkle.”
    Margo blushed. She stared back at Big Daddy Rose and felt a wild thrill of possibility jolt her. Gisele ignored the interaction as she applied pink to Margo’s toenails. For the first time, Margo noticed the strange red welt around Gisele’s left wrist. There was a ringing in Margo’s ears. She hiccuped twice. Her vision swam drunkenly.
    Pow! Margo was riding on the back of Big Daddy Rose’s Harley and hugging him tight. His body was hard muscle. They were racing up the Pacific Coast Highway followed by the entire Black Roses motorcycle gang. The wind beat at her face. She squeezed Big Daddy tighter still; it was like wrapping her arms around a bull. How did she get here? Nothing made sense. She felt pure euphoria riding on the bike, the massive engine singing a hot song between her legs, vibrating her core. Suddenly blinded by the sun glinting off a mirror, she felt a buttery warmth wash over her.
    Margo was in a ramshackle clubhouse. Spare motorcycle parts were strewn everywhere. A ratty couch took up one corner; in another was a color TV and a refrigerator stocked with cheap malt liquor. Hardcore rap droned from blown speakers. The tang of the best marijuana hung sweetly in the air. The place reeked of danger and taboo.  
    Big Daddy Rose strutted over to Margo. Slowly and deliberately, he began stripping off all her clothes. He hesitated, and his eyes met hers with an unvoiced question.
    She tensed. “Don’t stop.”
    Her vagina immediately moistened, and her nipples grew hard.  
    “Say what you want,” Big Daddy Rose coached.
    “I want it all,” she groaned. “All of you.”
    Members of the Black Roses jostled in around her, their eyes consuming her naked figure. She was titillated by the attention. Being desired by so many good-looking, dark-skinned bad boys all at once swelled her ego. Could she take them all?  
    “She’s so fine,” one of the Black Roses whispered.  
    “Bootylicious,” another said.  
    “Don’t just stand there,” Margo purred. “Come and get it.”
    As the men got naked, she saw these were no ordinary humans. Margo always enjoyed a secret thrill watching the beauty of black athletes in motion. She loved the Olympics and the perfection of the Jamaican sprinters. To her they embodied a sacred coiled power incarnate. The Black Roses all looked like those athletes,