FoA S2 Chapter 1

Jail sucks.

Probably not as much as prison, but it still sucks. Luckily, you are only there for less than twelve hours before the Free Gurls bail you out the following morning.

They couldn’t come to get you right away because they couldn’t give away that they knew that you’d been locked up. They had **** but to wait until morning.

So your back is sore from sleeping on that shitty bed when you walk outside, ignoring the look that you’re getting from Stark. She is pissed.

You walk down the steps toward the sidewalk.

Your bike is waiting for you at the curb. Beside it is Fang’s bike. Fang and Vicky are there, both wearing tight shorts and crop tops showing lots of cleavage.

“Blow me,” Fang says to Stark, who is watching from behind them. “It’s not public lewdness if you can’t see nips.” She thrusts out her chest in the boobalicious crop top.

Stark scowls and goes back into the station.

You reach the sidewalk.

“Thanks, guys,” you say.

Vicky tosses you your key and moves her torso, making her boobs jiggle. What’s that supposed to mean?

“Are you coming onto me?” you ask her, but Fang is already climbing onto her bike. Vicky climbs on behind her, pressing those huge knockers against Fang’s back. Lucky bitch.

You wave as they pull out, then head down and get on your own bike, looking back up at the station. Officer Stark has gone back inside. No reason to stick around. You start your bike and head home. There, you order a pizza and jump in your shower. If less than a day in jail sucks this bad, you do not want to do serious time. You have more respect now for the Free Gurls who have been incarcerated, namely Carla.

But you don’t want to think about her. Your… situation is a thing. You committed a crime right in front of a police officer. You’re going to have to pay for that. That’s not a pleasant feeling.

The water pours over you in your little shower, and all you can think about is how soft Riley’s lips were.

And what Stark said. She knows that you weren’t alone. You get out and dry off, wrapping yourself in a towel and answering the door to get your pizza. You spend the next hour stuffing your face and enjoying the fact that you are not in jail, which was truly awful.

But the problem with hanging out in your little apartment is that you always end up by the window. You gaze across the street at the coffee shop, and you can’t think about that without thinking about Riley. Her smooth, tanned skin. The freckles on her face.

But you aren’t going to pretend that it’s all about her pretty eyes. Her perky, athletic figure is just as important to you. Especially her pert, round…

You stop that and stuff another slice of pizza into your mouth. You need to try to be classy about Riley. She’s not like you and the others, and of course you haven’t forgotten other things that happened. You’re sitting by your window in a towel with a full erection, which pokes out annoyingly just from thinking about Riley’s mother… seeing her sweaty, flushed body underneath you and remembering how hot and tight she was, how beautiful…

You stop. The last few days have been a lot.

You munch more pizza and try to push all that away. You’re going to have a nap after this. You did not sleep well in jail. Maybe a beer first…

Your phone goes off. You’re getting texts.

You pick it up, wiping your mouth. They want you at the clubhouse.

Riley has not called or texted after what happened last night.

Sighing, you stand up and take off your towel. Your windows have blinds, and it’s not like anyone is even looking, let alone able to see anything. Erection bobbing around, you walk into the bathroom and look at your reflection.

No makeup. Wet hair. You have a reasonably fit body, but it’s not at fit as someone like Riley. She probably has tight, six-pack abs. You don’t have that, for sure… but you aren’t getting into that right now.

You pull on a clean pair of black boy shorts, tight jeans, and choose a tank top that can contain your 36C breasts. They don’t always look like much because you wear tight tops, but they are big and heavy. Big enough that sometimes your back gets sore. For a change of pace, you put on the one real bra that you own, which pushes them up a little.

Once you’re presentable, you head downstairs. You have to come when you’re called. That’s part of being a prospect. You don’t like it, but it’s necessary. So even though you would rather go sleep, you head downstairs, climb onto your bike… try not to look at the coffee shop where Riley often goes, and ride off.

The clubhouse is quiet. It only gets rowdy in the evening when it acts as a normal bar to the people of Gurlberg. The sun is still up. This is just a building right now, but you see all the other bikes here. Everyone is here… at least, all the Free Gurls that have been around lately. Vicky’s bike is here, and Caroline’s, Carla’s, Jan’s, Stef’s, and Fang’s. They are all here.

Time to find out how badly you fucked up. You’re probably lucky that they bailed you out of jail at all. Going on a date? While they were doing a big job that actually fucking mattered? What were you thinking?

You should have taken a few shots of whiskey before you came over here. That’s another fuckup on your part. Can’t you do anything right?

You see Riley’s adorable face in your mind as you walk up to the door and go in.

She’s so cute. So perfect. It was worth it. You’ll take this punishment like a champ.

You walk in on the entire club, or at least the ones that are hanging around Gurlberg at the moment, gathered around the stage. There, that new dancer, Lotte—is doing her thing, wearing just a thong, spinning around the pole and getting them all worked up as they cheer and throw money at her.

Tanya notices you walking in and puts her fingers in her mouth to whistle.

That gets the attention of the others, who stop looking at Lotte’s glistening body and turn to you.

Lotte stops dancing.

“Oh,” Stef says, absently pushing down on the crotch of her jeans, as though to tuck away her obvious erection. Were they all that hard because of Lotte? Well, Lotte is the perfect blonde. Anyone would get hard, even you, but you are a bit too nervous for that. “Get her,” Stef says bluntly.

“Wait, what?” you demand as the others rush toward you.

Before you can react, they’re all over you, grabbing your arms and holding you tight like they’re cops trying to subdue you or something.

“You’re done,” Stef says casually to Lotte, who wipes her sweaty forehead and steps off the stage, chest jiggling.

Stef acts cool, like there isn’t a huge tent in her jeans as she approaches you. The others hold you still.

Stef looks down at you with a neutral expression, then glances at the door to the meeting room.

“Take her in,” she says.

The others drag you forward. You aren’t sure whether to fight or go with it, but you can’t fight them all. Most of them, you think you could take one on one, but not Jan, and she’s the one twisting your arm.

You burst through the door, and they slam you onto the table, bending you over.

“She doesn’t need those clothes,” Carla says.

You feel hands all over your body, pulling at your shirt and your jeans.