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like eating. I began shoveling the salad in my mouth.
    “Get hungry all of a sudden?” Heather asked, smiling.
    “Shut it,” I nagged as I stabbed another forkful of food.
    “He’s not going to be there when you’re done. They’re all the way at the other end of town. Take your time,” Heather tipped her beer up and took a long drink.
    As I wiped the salad dressing from my mouth with the back of my hand I realized she was right. Five minutes had passed since Erik had texted me, and I was half done with my salad. I slowed my pace a little and looked up at Heather.
    “You know, people talk shit on bikers,” Heather said as she held her beer bottle up and inspected it.
    “Okay?” I responded, wondering where she was going with this statement.
    “But Erik and Teddy are probably the two nicest guys I have ever met - at least so far,” she said as she placed her empty bottle on the table.
    “I agree. Erik told me people fear what they don’t understand. People don’t understand bikers, so they fear them. There’s also some T.V. shows that don’t help. You know - the shows about the MC’s. They’re entertaining, but they aren’t accurate. People watch them and assume that all bikers are like that,” I paused, stabbed at my remaining salad with my fork, and continued.
    “People don’t understand D/s relationships either. Erik and I talk about this a lot. A dominant male that isn’t a wannabe takes care of his submissive female. He takes care of her before he takes care of himself. She trusts him to look out for her best interest, always. Her satisfaction is his concern, his is hers. People think it’s about beating and slapping and ordering someone around, and it isn’t. It’s about caring, guiding, determining limits, and riding that line. I think Erik fucks with me a lot. I think he mind fucks me,” I laughed, thinking about Erik whispering in my ear.
    “You’re both weird, and people don’t understand it because they don’t give a shit. Let’s get out of here,” Heather said as she scooted her chair away from the table.
    “You know, it was at that table right over there where he fingered me before we went to the mall that day,” I pointed to the table two tables away from us.
    “Yeah, I know. I don’t want to hear about it again, let’s go. You’re gross. You wiped cum on a pair of jeans and gave them to the cashier. That’s fucking sick. Come on,” she stood from her chair and straightened her pants.
    “She deserved it, she was a little bitch,” I said defensively.
    Heather turned to me, raised one eyebrow and didn’t say a word.
    She got what she deserved. Sooner or later, most people do.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    KELLI. Sometimes our past comes back to haunt us, and other times it remind us of who we were , and how things have changed for the better. We all have a past, and we’re all human. Only one person on this earth was close to perfect, and he was crucified for it.
    Anyone that thinks or says they don’t have a skeleton in their closet is a liar or really confused.  We’re not always ready to be reminded of our past, and it’s never a good time to discuss some things.
    Heather and I pulled into the parking lot and parked our cars. I walked to Heather’s car and waited for her to get out.
    “I don’t see their bikes, but they’ll be here in a few,” I said as she got out of the car.
    “Damn girl, settle down. I know. They’ll be here when they get here. I was just sick of that restaurant,” she responded sharply.
    “Well, you picked it,” I laughed.
    “Yeah, and I don’t ever want to go back. You and Erik creep me out,” she giggled as she stepped beside me.
    “Just stop,” I laughed.
    As we came around the corner of the parking lot, we could see the patio was pretty full. We spotted a table at the far side that was open, and decided we’d get it. It was on the west side and got all of the hot evening sun, but it’s all that was