Free Step on It: A Biker Erotic Romance by Miriam Becker Page A

that they love having a good time, but either way, you invited us to play tonight. So you're gonna pay me and my two friends a thousand bucks each, the exact amount you promised us over the phone; because if you don't, I'll break your arm in two, and then you'll have hospital bills to pay on top of everything else. Got it?"
     
    "You're a psycho bitch, you know that?" the bar owner snarled back defiantly.
     
    "Of course I am," Helen snapped. "And you know the great thing about being a bitch? I always get what I want."
     
    The bar owner struggled against Helen's viciously tight grip on his wrist for a moment longer before finally yielding.
     
    "Fine," He spat angrily.
     
    Helen released her grip on the bar owner's wrist to allow him to pay up. He produced a checkbook and a pen from his jacket pocket, and scribbled out three separate checks for a thousand dollars each. He handed over the three checks with a bitter scowl as he shoved the pen and checkbook back into his pocket.
     
    "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Helen asked with a satisfied smile, taking the checks.
     
    "Just get the fuck out of my bar," the bar owner replied bitterly as he picked up the broom again and resumed sweeping.
     
    "Gladly," Helen said as she turned to leave. "This place is a total dump, anyway."
     
    "And don't even think about coming back here, either!" he shouted after her.
     
    Helen didn't bother replying to that demand. There were bound to be plenty of other establishments in town that would take a gig from the Harpies.
     
    ***
     
    Helen returned to her band mates with checks in hand, giving out two of them and pocketing the third.
     
    "Sweet!" exclaimed Dana as she looked at her check.
     
    "Did you give him 'hell,' Helen?" Kat asked with laugh.
     
    "You know me," Helen replied with a smirk. "I don't give anyone any bullshit, and I sure as hell don't take it from anyone else."
     
    "That's our Hell," Dana said approvingly. "the girl who'll kick any guy's ass."
     
    "I haven't met a guy whose man enough to tap mine yet," Helen bragged with an alpha-bitch smile, eliciting a laugh from her fellow harpies. "Come on; let's get out of here."
     
    The three band mates finished packing up and hopped in their pickup truck, speeding out of the parking lot and down Main Street.
     
    ***
     
    The Harpies pulled up into the garage well past midnight. They were so exhausted after their long gig that they didn't bother to unpack their equipment—instead, once they got back to their shared flat, they decided to go straight to bed. Dana and Kat climbed into their respective sleeping bags and rolled over like bugs snug in their cocoons. Helen stayed up a little later to have a shower before turning in for the night. She padded naked into the bathroom and shut the door behind her, and before stepping into the shower cubicle she turned to examine at her body in the head-to-foot vanity mirror.
     
    She was pretty damned hot. Her feet were small and dainty, with toenails painted black like her fingernails, and her legs were slim and hairless, giving her the lithe physique of a dancer. From the waist down, she barely resembled a rocker. Above the waist, however, was a different story. She'd shaved her womanhood down, leaving only a single, well-trimmed strip of hair running down to her clitoris. Her hips and waist were curved to form a sexy, hourglass shape while her breasts were perky but firm. In between her tits was a tattoo of a demure-looking, naked woman with bat-like wings unfurled across the top of each breast. The harpy-girl's hands covered up her vaginal area as her devil-like tail snaked down to circle her pierced navel.
     
    Helen brushed aside a few rogue locks of red dyed hair in her otherwise auburn head, admiring her silver nose stud and earrings as she did so, and then turned sideways to view her shapely butt and the tattoo of the word "Hell" emblazoned in fiery capital letters on her lower back. Helen imagined with a conceited smile