It was a biker bar on the outskirts of town - a little bit out in the sticks. Michaela had just greased up some almost skin-tight jeans, put a few rips in them and then pulled on a pair of thigh high leather boots over them. A crop top, and a little leather jacket with dangling chains with little padlocks on finished her look. She looked like a biker chic even if she wasn’t one. Her thick main of hair left what looked to be unkempt and untidy - kind of that dragged through the hedge backwards look. And she made herself up like a biker as well. Plenty of blood red lipstick and heavy eye makeup. She even gave herself a little facial scar via her expertise in makeup, to finish her look. And in fairness she did look the part. She didn’t ‘look’ like Michaela at all. Rather the opposite. She looked like the product of a state comprehensive school and a broken home. But that was what she intended. She didn’t want to look, or need to look like anything else and she certainly wouldn’t want to be identified from any CCTV at a later date if it all went pear shaped.
It was probably after about a week that she spotted him. A greaser who had sauntered in. Heavy set, maybe a little obese but definitely not a regular. He dressed the part and looked the part in general but he didn't know anyone here. He didn't acknowledge anyone or no-one acknowledged him. He just got a beer, and came back out. For some reason, Michaela knew that he was the one. There was no other reason than this guy fitted the profile that she had in her mind. A loner, a lurker. "Never seen you here before." And she flashed that almost too perfect lipstick smile at this guy. If she hadn't been who she was, doing what she was doing she might have been scared off by this guy's serial killer looks. There was no smile back, just an icy stare. The eyes made contact but it was very brief and very short-lived. Then the eyes dropped down to Michaela's cleavage and hung there. She didn't put him off. Rather she thrust back her shoulders and pressed out her sizeable breasts more for him to look at. "I only came here for the view." That was his response as his eyes remained fixed on her fleshy tits. The thoughts running through her mind - 'ignorant cunt looking at my tits when he's talking to me'. And it wasn't just what he said, it was the way he said it. He wasn't local either - the accent was all wrong for him to be local, but for her that was good. A drifter. "Really? You like what you see?" And she stood her ground, let him feast on her breasts, even making sure that she heaved them around a bit, giving them those puppies-trying-to-get-out-of-a-sack look.
"I'm warming to it. Why don't you come a bit closer, let me get the view from different angles." Immediately Michaela knowing what this low life was up to. Making her make the move into him so that it didn't look all wrong to those around them. It was ok though, as long as she was on it, she could cope. She smiled again and moved in close. She gave a little girly giggle that didn't really fit the biker chic she was, but would appeal to this guy in that he would have thought he had some bimbo up for anything. His arm wrapped around her straight away and he pulled her in close, crushing her tits against his chest. Then she could feel his big hands on her tightly denimed ass and he was 'smoothing' that ass. Squeezing and then smoothing. He was 'feeling' her flesh. In her mind, and more than likely his as well, he was sizing her up for later. Wondering how she liked to be handled and trying to imagine if she liked to take it up inside that fine ass of hers. She was imagining that he was intending to find out all of this. She couldn't have imagined that what was going through his mind was that he would fuck her, all of her holes completely with his thick cock. And then once her ass was prolapsed and fucked he would piss all over her and just leave her. Another chic fucked in another town. She wouldn't have got all that, not yet. This was a guy who would let his personality and intentions slip out ever so slowly. To an unaware streetwise girl, she wouldn't have a clue. This was a man who was a predator in his own right. A man who moved around and did what he did and then moved on again.
"Wanna go somewhere more private? I've got a place nearby. We can have some fun?" Michaela was playing the biker chic with some girly mixed in there because she knew it would appeal to the mindset of this gorilla. She ground herself into him from the hips, let him know that he could be inside her. At least let him think that he could be inside her in any way that he wanted. And it was her that kissed him first. She didn't wait for his response to her question. It was like she was underlining the question before he needed to answer it. She sealed her red lips to his and then she immediately snaked her tongue into his mouth and explored freely. Her immediate thought was that he was 'lazy'. He didn't kiss back, it was like he couldn't be bothered. Like he didn't 'need' to kiss her back. He had got what he wanted, he was set up for the night and now he could just kick back and let the slut pour herself over him and that was all he needed to do. She knew the kind of guy he was. But she played the game because she knew that in a few hours this particular cunt of a guy would be screaming like a little girl and begging her to let him go.
But then, that was much like this man was thinking. He was thinking that he'd let this girl slut herself up for him, let her make that exhibitionist show of herself in the crowd and then later he would fuck her mind and body into a complete and utter standstill. The question was which of these was the most switched on. Which was the most switched on to what the other might be thinking. Obviously, Michaela, or Micky the biker chic was several steps ahead of the meathead and although she couldn't know the depth of what this man was thinking, she would have got the gist from the way he handled her, or manhandled her. And she would have got the laziness of him. Not needing to make the effort. Taking for granted that it was all there for him - whatever he wanted, however he wanted. In reality he had no clue.