Serial Novel: The Biker's Wench, Chapter 10
This serial novel is posted in draft form every Tuesday and Friday.
Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7| Ch. 8 | Ch. 9
The Biker's Wench
Chapter 10
"Ready." Monica slid her hand under his arm like the lady she wasn't, and forced her feet up the walk. This is the biggest mistake of my life.
She stepped into the eerie rose light, and nearly jumped out of her skin as a tall, long-legged blond in a very short maid's costume stepped out of a doorway to the right.
"A lady of the night - a good choice, brother dear." The woman's voice was low and practically hummed with sex. A slight accent made Monica wonder how they'd managed to find a real live French woman to play the maid here. No doubt she was very well paid.
"Knock it off, Bets." Harlan's annoyed tone snapped Monica out of her musing. She looked and them both in turn, the woman's words sinking in. This was Harley's sister? "Monica, this is my sister Betsy. Betsy, would you show Monica to the dressing room, and let her pick out a gown? I need to find Pete."
"He's in the sanctuary," Betsy said, dropping the accent. Her lips curved up in a smile and she turned to Monica, her eyes glancing down and back up her frame. "You come with me - I know just the dress."
Too dazed to argue, Monica followed Betsy down the rose-colored hall to a small door on the right. She was ushered inside, finding herself surrounded by tall racks of what appeared to be five different styles of wedding dresses in every size, plus racks of the same bridesmaid dress in a rainbow of colors beyond. The door closed behind her, and she turned as the lock snapped home to see Betsy leaning against the wall, staring thoughtfully. Finally, she spoke.
"I know you're not in love with him, so why are you marrying my brother?"
Monica sank down onto a large upholstered stool, exhaling long and slow. "He's trying to protect me," she said, realizing how weak that made her sound the second the words crossed her lips. "My father wants me to marry this other guy, and I ran away. But he's coming to get me and take me back. He won't give up easily. Your brother is strong and confident and my dad respects that. He might leave me alone if he thinks I'm married to Harley."
"So you're just going to use him until your dad leaves you alone, then leave? Why would Harlan agree to that?"
Monica wasn't sure just how much Harley would appreciate her telling his sister about his predicament, so she just shrugged. "I offered to leave. This was his idea. The deal is for one year."
Betsy tilted her head, her eyebrows raised. "Interesting." Pushing off the wall, she walked past and Monica stood, following her deeper into the rows of satin and tulle. When they reached the back of the room, she pulled open a closet door and stepped in to take a garment bag off the clothes rod, holding it out to Monica. "This is your dress. And it's not a loaner - it's yours to keep. I'll wait by the door while you change - holler if you need any help." Avoiding Monica's eyes, she brushed past and strode back toward the front of the room.
Monica frowned, hanging the bag on a nearby hook conveniently located at the side of a large mirror. She pulled the zipper down slowly to reveal a strapless, simple bone-colored sheath with an intricate vining pattern of seed pearls hand sewn around both the top and the knee-length hem. The style was timeless, classic and yet she had the feeling it was very old, a perfectly preserved antique. Stepping back, she shook her head. There must be some mistake. This was someone's heirloom, one of those dresses you pass down over generations. What was Betsy doing letting her wear it, much less telling her to keep it? She turned to find the other woman watching her, arms folded across her chest.
"I can't wear this," Monica said, waving a hand toward the garment. "Something tells me this is supposed to be yours."
Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7| Ch. 8 | Ch. 9
The Biker's Wench
Chapter 10
"Ready." Monica slid her hand under his arm like the lady she wasn't, and forced her feet up the walk. This is the biggest mistake of my life.
She stepped into the eerie rose light, and nearly jumped out of her skin as a tall, long-legged blond in a very short maid's costume stepped out of a doorway to the right.
"A lady of the night - a good choice, brother dear." The woman's voice was low and practically hummed with sex. A slight accent made Monica wonder how they'd managed to find a real live French woman to play the maid here. No doubt she was very well paid.
"Knock it off, Bets." Harlan's annoyed tone snapped Monica out of her musing. She looked and them both in turn, the woman's words sinking in. This was Harley's sister? "Monica, this is my sister Betsy. Betsy, would you show Monica to the dressing room, and let her pick out a gown? I need to find Pete."
"He's in the sanctuary," Betsy said, dropping the accent. Her lips curved up in a smile and she turned to Monica, her eyes glancing down and back up her frame. "You come with me - I know just the dress."
Too dazed to argue, Monica followed Betsy down the rose-colored hall to a small door on the right. She was ushered inside, finding herself surrounded by tall racks of what appeared to be five different styles of wedding dresses in every size, plus racks of the same bridesmaid dress in a rainbow of colors beyond. The door closed behind her, and she turned as the lock snapped home to see Betsy leaning against the wall, staring thoughtfully. Finally, she spoke.
"I know you're not in love with him, so why are you marrying my brother?"
Monica sank down onto a large upholstered stool, exhaling long and slow. "He's trying to protect me," she said, realizing how weak that made her sound the second the words crossed her lips. "My father wants me to marry this other guy, and I ran away. But he's coming to get me and take me back. He won't give up easily. Your brother is strong and confident and my dad respects that. He might leave me alone if he thinks I'm married to Harley."
"So you're just going to use him until your dad leaves you alone, then leave? Why would Harlan agree to that?"
Monica wasn't sure just how much Harley would appreciate her telling his sister about his predicament, so she just shrugged. "I offered to leave. This was his idea. The deal is for one year."
Betsy tilted her head, her eyebrows raised. "Interesting." Pushing off the wall, she walked past and Monica stood, following her deeper into the rows of satin and tulle. When they reached the back of the room, she pulled open a closet door and stepped in to take a garment bag off the clothes rod, holding it out to Monica. "This is your dress. And it's not a loaner - it's yours to keep. I'll wait by the door while you change - holler if you need any help." Avoiding Monica's eyes, she brushed past and strode back toward the front of the room.
Monica frowned, hanging the bag on a nearby hook conveniently located at the side of a large mirror. She pulled the zipper down slowly to reveal a strapless, simple bone-colored sheath with an intricate vining pattern of seed pearls hand sewn around both the top and the knee-length hem. The style was timeless, classic and yet she had the feeling it was very old, a perfectly preserved antique. Stepping back, she shook her head. There must be some mistake. This was someone's heirloom, one of those dresses you pass down over generations. What was Betsy doing letting her wear it, much less telling her to keep it? She turned to find the other woman watching her, arms folded across her chest.
"I can't wear this," Monica said, waving a hand toward the garment. "Something tells me this is supposed to be yours."
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