EXTRACT FOR
Angel of Lust
(Lia Anderssen)

Chapter 1

    

    Charlie stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom and ran  her eyes down her naked body.  There was no doubt about it, she had told herself, any man who encountered her thus would  like what he saw.  Charlotte was, by any standards, beautiful.  She stood about five foot four inches in her bare feet, her body slim and in perfect proportion.  Her breasts were firm and inviting, the size and shape of ripe grapefruits.  They were tipped by large, perfectly shaped nipples which, even when not erect, stood out proudly.  Her waist was narrow, her hips not too broad, her pubic hair trimmed short so that it formed a perfect triangle, beneath which the pink of her sex lips formed a neat cleft.  Her legs were long and shapely, tapering to small, neat ankles and beautiful feet.  In anybody's terms, Charlie had a body to kill for.

    Her face, too, was classically beautiful, with high cheekbones, a perfectly shaped nose and a small, eminently kissable mouth.  Her eyes were bright green, their innocent stare belying the desires that lurked behind them.  The whole was framed by dark, wavy hair that hung down below her shoulders.

    On top of the chest in front of her was a photograph in a frame, and she picked it up and examined it.  It showed her with a handsome man, the pair of them smartly dressed, with flakes of confetti still sticking to their shoulders.  She had married Jon two years before, when she was seventeen.  Then he had seemed a fascinating and glamorous man, working as an engineer on the oil rigs off the Gulf of Mexico and bringing in a considerable salary.  There had been a degree of mystery about him, and she had enjoyed the lifestyle they led, out every night at parties and discos and enjoying holidays in the Caribbean and Mediterranean.

    It hadn't been long, however, before the novelty had worn off.  The trouble with Jon's job was that it meant him being away from home for months at a time, returning home for no more than one or two weeks before jetting off again.  She, meanwhile, was left at home, with nothing more than the television and books to keep her amused.  In such circumstances, Charlie had rapidly become bored with her solitary existence.

    What had surprised her, though, was how much she missed the sex.  When she had married Jon she had been a virgin, and it was he that had introduced her to the joy of carnal desires, releasing a passion that she had not realised existed in her.  No sooner had he awakened her body to these pleasures, however, than he had begun to leave her for long periods.  At first it hadn't seemed too bad, but she soon realised that her own cravings were far greater than those of a normal woman.  Night after night she had lain in bed, the heat between her thighs preventing sleep, her mind populated by images of naked men, their rampant penises filling her.  When she had managed to sleep, her dreams were filled with erotic fantasies, in which she was forced to walk naked amongst groups of fully-clothed men who would grab and fondle her body, pinning her down and publicly fucking her whilst their companions watched, awaiting their turn.  Charlie would wake from these dreams in a state of agitation, her body on fire with desire, and would lie masturbating in the darkness, longing for the feel of Jon's big cock inside her.

    After two years, her desires had not changed.  Simply the realisation that, as her current situation continued, those desires could be no more than dreams.  

    

    For the tenth time she consulted her calendar.  It was two days before Jon was due back.  Two days of further enforced abstinence.  And even when he returned she couldn't be sure of having her desires satisfied. She had long ago realised that he was unfaithful. Packs of condoms in his luggage, letters filled with sexual references and lipstick stains on his shirts had long since betrayed him. Yet when she confronted him she was met with flat denials, after which he would allow no further discussion. 

    

    He was probably screwing his other woman right now.  Why should he bother with Charlie?

    Suddenly all she could see was Jon in bed with his mistress, and she was seized with anger.  If he could do it, why the hell couldn't she?  Why was it that her conscience had prevented her fucking with other men when she had wanted to so badly?  It simply wasn't fair.

    All at once she badly wanted revenge.  To get her own back on him for his infidelity.  If only there were something she could do to show her own defiance.  Perhaps she should go to a nightclub and pick up a man, and really let him have his way with her?  She sighed.  That wasn't the answer, and she knew it.  It would simply make her as bad as him, and leave her feeling guilty.

    She wandered up to her bedroom.  Maybe she would feel better if she frigged herself, though she doubted it.  She picked up the wedding photo once more, studying his face and trying to recapture the pleasure of their early days together.  But all she could feel was anger.  Then her gaze fell on the picture of him astride his motorcycle.

    Charlie caught her breath.  The motorcycle!  His most treasured possession, possibly even more so than her.  What would he think if she were to take it out?  To run it into town and risk it being damaged, or even stolen?  She knew he would be shocked beyond belief.  In fact, in a way, he would be more shocked at her riding his precious bike than if he was to find she had been unfaithful to him.

    Charlie's eyes gleamed.  It was a great idea.  After all she knew how to ride a motorcycle.  One of her boyfriends at school had had a small machine and had taught her.  Whilst his bike was not exactly on a par with Jon's gleaming machine, the principle must be the same.  It was simply a matter of balance.

    Then another thought struck her.  His leathers!  That prized motorcycling suit that he coveted so much.  What would he think if she went out in that?  On a sudden impulse she pulled open the wardrobe door and dragged out the outfit, pulling off the protective cover.  She laid it on the bed and stood back, studying it.

    It was black all over, dotted with gleaming silver studs.  On the back was the image of a white ghost with gleaming eyes, the word 'SPIRITS' picked out in capitals beneath.  She took the leather in her hands, rubbing it between her fingers.  It was of the finest quality, and a shiver ran through her as she imagined it caressing her bare skin.

    All at once her mind was made up.  She would do it.  She would take his precious machine out on the road.  And what was more, she would wear his leathers.  They were a little bit large for her, but that would not be a problem.  

    Pulling on her panties she began to rummage in her drawer for something to wear under the suit.  She pulled out a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, then hesitated.  Why bother to wear anything underneath?  Why not enjoy the sensation of the leather against her bare flesh?  The idea sent a shimmer of excitement through her, and she tossed the garments back in the drawer.  Then she picked up the biker's suit.

    The soft leather felt wonderful against her skin, her nipples hardening at once as she zipped it up to her neck.  Her panties were of a thin silk material, so that it was almost as if, even at her crotch, the suit was pressed against her bare flesh.  The smell of the leather, too, added to the sensation and she found herself quite turned on as she fastened the collar and cuffs.

    She stopped in front of the mirror.  The suit was cut too loose to show off her figure.  In fact it was hard to determine her sex, since the chest of the leathers disguised the fullness of her breasts.  This suited her fine, though.  A woman on a motorcycle would be too conspicuous.  With her hair tucked inside her helmet, though, she might well pass for a man.

    She took the helmet from the closet, then made her way downstairs and out of the house.  She pulled open the garage door.  There, parked against the wall, was the bike.  Charlie took hold of the plastic cover draped over it and dragged it off.  Then she paused, staring at the machine.

    It was a large and powerful bike, all gleaming chrome, with exhaust pipes that curled out from the cylinders and swept upwards at the back.  The handlebars were short and low, the tank wide.  She straddled the seat, surprised at the size of the machine.  Her feet barely touched the ground, and she knew she would have to be careful to keep it upright once it was off the stand.  She gathered her hair, twisting it into a makeshift bun, then pulled on the helmet, fastening it at her neck.  She was ready.

    She took the ignition key from her pocket and placed it in the lock, then she eased the kick start out and pressed down on it with her foot.  At first it didn't move, and she was obliged to stand and put all her weight on it to turn the engine.

    One kick, two, and then the engine roared into life, the sound almost deafening in the small garage.  She revved it a couple of times, then, with a mighty effort, eased the bike off its stand.  She pressed down on the gear pedal and eased out the clutch.  All at once she was moving, steering carefully out of the garage and down the drive.

    She swung out onto the road and opened the throttle.  With a roar the machine shot forward, and it was all she could do to keep hold of the handlebars as the tyres bit into the road surface.  She eased off at once, then changed up a gear.

    Charlie took the bike round all the side roads she knew as she accustomed herself to it.  It was much larger and more powerful than she had expected, but the controls were light and before long her confidence returned.  Soon she felt sure enough to pull out onto the main road and open the throttle, thrilling at the way it performed.

    She headed off up the highway, the speedo reading a steady eighty miles an hour.  To Charlie it felt wonderful, the wind rushing past her face, the throb of the powerful machine between her legs giving her a sensation that was almost sexual.  For a while she was able to forget her troubles, zooming along the highway, weaving around the cars and then opening her throttle so that they were left far behind.

    She wasn't sure how far she had gone.  Ten miles, maybe fifteen.  Then she spotted a small cafe beside the road and, shifting down through the gears, pulled off into the car park.  She stopped by the door, kicking down the side-stand and killing the motor, then climbed off.  She was surprised to find herself almost trembling with excitement and exhilaration and her hands shook as she undid the strap on her helmet.

    She strode into the cafe, shaking her hair down, aware of the eyes that stared at the unusual sight of the young girl in bikers' leathers.  The cafe was scruffy.  Most of the clients were truckers and they nudged one another and grinned at her as she made her way to the bar.  They were rough looking and unshaven, and Charlie found herself unexpectedly turned on by their attention.  She wondered what they would say if they knew she was nearly naked under the leather suit.

    She drank her coffee sitting in a corner of the cafe.  It was bitter and strong, but it tasted good to her as she felt her heartbeat gradually return to normal after the excitement of the ride.  She stayed no more than ten minutes, then donned her helmet and strode back out to the bike.

    This time it started first kick, and she revved the engine as she swung out of the cafe car park and back onto the open road, gunning the engine as she roared away.

    So intent had she been on controlling the machine in front of all the truckers, Charlie hadn't noticed the other two motorcycles parked in a lay-by opposite the cafe.  Nor had she noticed the two men sitting astride them.  Had she done so she might have been struck by the similarity of their leathers to her own, even down to the depiction of a ghost and the word 'SPIRITS' written across their backs.  They had noticed her, though, and she was barely round the next bend before they had gunned their engines into life and, swinging their machines in a U-turn across the road, set off in pursuit of her.

    

    



Chapter 2

    

    Charlie felt good, sitting astride the powerful motorcycle as it roared up the highway.  There was something intensely sexual about the heavy machine that throbbed between her legs and the feel of the leather against her bare skin.  She smiled to herself as she gunned the throttle, passing a line of cars and just dodging back onto her own side of the road in time to avoid an oncoming juggernaut.  This was a freedom she had never imagined, and suddenly she felt her own woman for once, able to go where she wanted and liberated from the ties of being wife and housewife.

    She spotted a small side road leading off the highway and resolved to take it, cutting across the front of a small car that hooted angrily at her as she roared away.  The road was quiet and winding and she leaned the bike low into the corners, speeding along through the countryside.

    She had been going for more than a mile when she realised there was something behind her.  A flash of sunlight in the mirrors revealed the two bikers on her tail.  At first she thought nothing of it, simply winding on more power as she swept through the bends.  Then she realised that they were catching her, and the first inklings of doubt entered her mind.

    She tried again to go faster, but they too increased their speed.  Charlie was riding to the limit of her ability now, leaning dangerously low into the corners, her footrests scraping the road, yet still the other machines seemed to be closing on her.

    She still had a good few hundred yards on them, and she resolved to make use of the lead, searching for somewhere she might be able to pull over and conceal herself whilst they passed.  Up ahead she spotted an open gate that led into a wood and, waiting until the last moment, she braked heavily, the machine snaking from side to side as she hung on grimly to the handlebars.

    She leaned over hard and, her rear tyre skidding sideways on the gravel, headed the bike up the track.  It was a narrow, bumpy path, the trees leaning close on either side, and it was all she could do to keep upright.  Then, suddenly, the path took a right angle bend and Charlie lost control, sprawling on the grass as the bike slid between the trees.

    The leathers, her helmet and the softness of the grass protected her from any injury, and she sprang to her feet at once, rushing across to where the bike lay and heaving it up onto its wheels.  A quick inspection revealed no damage apart from a few grass stains on the fairing, and she gave a sigh of relief.  Then she heard the roar of powerful engines and realised with a shock that she hadn't shaken off her pursuers and that they were, even now, heading up the path behind her.

    She straddled the bike at once and kicked frantically at the kick-start.  But the accident must have flooded the engine, and it refused to start.

    The two bikers came into sight at the far end of the track.  She knew that they spotted her at once, and she heard them throttle back as they came closer, coming to a halt on either side of where she sat, still trying vainly to start her machine.  Then a hand reached across and, before she could stop him, the man had snatched her key from the ignition.

    "Give me that," she exclaimed, snatching at it, but he was too quick for her, and she found herself trapped between them.

    "Put the bike on its stand and get off."  The man on her right said.  He took off his helmet revealing long dark hair which framed a handsome face, his chin covered with stubble, his eyes a piercing blue.

    Charlie had no choice.  Reluctantly she kicked down the stand and climbed from the machine.  She looked about herself, They were in a small wooded glade some distance from the road, and there was nobody around.

    "What the hell are you doing riding around in our colours?"  the man demanded.

    "Colours?"

    "Zep's talking about the leathers," said the second man, who had also removed his helmet revealing a shock of fair hair and a thick beard.  "They're in our colours.  That's our logo on the back.  You're no Spirit."

    "I borrowed them."

    The man called Zep's eyes narrowed.  "Take your helmet off," he ordered.

    Charlie hesitated.  Then she reached up and undid the strap at her neck.  She pulled off the helmet, shaking her hair down.

    "Shit..."

    "You're a fucking babe!"

    For the first time Charlie realised that they had thought her a man.  Now that they saw her without her helmet, though, it was clear she was nothing of the kind.  She stood, trying to appear confident as she stared at the pair, though inside she felt anything but.

    For a moment she thought that the revelation of her sex would save  her.  However, it wasn't to be.  In a very short time the men's initial surprise evaporated and she felt the hostility return.

    "Babe or not," said the one called Zep.  "You're not entitled to wear those colours."

    "What's so important about them?"  she asked.

    "Everything," re-joined the biker.  "You gotta serve an apprenticeship with the Spirits before you can wear those.  Even more so if you're a babe.  We make it pretty tough for a girl to be entitled to wear our colours.  Most chicken out on the first day."

    "So you're breaking the rules, baby," said his companion.  "And we've got ways of dealing with anyone who does that."

    Charlie took a step backwards.  This whole thing was rather getting out of control.  She cursed herself for being so careless as to get caught.  She should have known the leathers had some kind of significance.

    "What are you going to do?"  she asked, trying to keep the tremor from her voice.

    "First of all, get those leathers off."

    "I can't."

    The biker moved closer to her.  "You've got no choice," he said.  "The longer you stand there wearing them, the madder it makes me and Lou here.  And we're not nice people when we get mad."

    "But I..."

    The biker called Lou reached into his pocket and pulled out a motorcycle chain.

    "The colours," said Zep quietly.

    Charlie looked from one of the men to the other, then back again.  Their faces were grim.  There was no doubt about it, they meant business.  She wished now that she had worn a little more.  A bra at least.  But it was too late for that.

    Slowly she crouched down and began unlacing her boots.  She slipped them off, the grass feeling cool and soft against her bare feet.  Then, turning to face away from the men, she reached for the zip at her neck, pulling it all the way down.  She hesitated for a second, then shrugged the suit off her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the ground.  She stepped out of it and glanced down at herself.  Her breasts jutted prominently forward, the brown nipples hard from the constant chafing against the leather.  The panties were tiny and inadequate, a tuft of dark pubic hair visible above the low waistband.  She hugged an arm across her chest and then, blushing brightly, turned to face the men again.

    Zep gave a low whistle.  "Not exactly dressed for the occasion, were you darling?"

    "I need some clothes," she replied.

    "I can see that.  You should have thought about that before you started riding round in Spirit colours.  Give them to me."

    Covering her breasts as best she could, Charlie crouched down and picked up the leathers.  She handed them to the biker.

    "Right," he said.  "We're gonna cut these up, then we're going to trash the bike."

    "No!"  exclaimed Charlie in alarm.  "You mustn't do that."

    "We've got to.  We swear an oath when we join the club that if we find anyone wearing our colours when they're not entitled, their bike and their leathers are history.  It's only because you're a chick that we're not going to smash your teeth as well."

    "But you mustn't destroy them, they're not mine.  They're my husband's."

    "Husband eh?  What does he think to you riding round the countryside like that?"

    "He doesn't know.  He's away.  He used to be a Spirit years ago.  I just borrowed his bike.  He'll kill me if he finds out."

    "Where is he then?"

    "In Mexico.  He works there.  But he'll be back on the weekend."

    Zep eyed her scantily clad figure.  "A guy shouldn't go away and leave a gorgeous chick like you on her own," he said.  "Still, there's nothing else for it.  Only a Spirit is entitled to wear those colours and you're not one.  We've got to trash the bike.  We've got no choice."

    The two men stepped towards the gleaming machine, but Charlie hurled herself in front of it, spreading her arms out in a protective gesture that she knew left her lovely breasts uncovered before their hungry gazes.

    "No!"  she said again.  "You can't."

    Zep stopped, an exasperated look on his face.

    "Listen," he said.  "This is nothing personal darling.  It's just something we've got to do.  It's the rules.  Now don't make us have to hurt you."

    "There must be some other way."

    "There isn't.  Only Spirits can wear those leathers."

    "What if I became a Spirit?"

    Zep laughed.  "You?"

    "Why not?"

    "You couldn't become a Spirit."

    "Tell me why not."

    "There's an apprenticeship.  It takes months.  What about your husband?"

    "He goes away for months at a time.  He need not know."

    "Listen darling," said Zep.  "You don't know what an apprenticeship is like.  You're treated like a virtual slave.  And you have to do as you're told.  No matter what it is."

    "You mean..?"

    "No matter what."

    Charlie dropped her eyes.  Her nipples were still hard, but it wasn't the leather anymore.  For the first time she had to admit to herself that the situation was turning her on, and that Zep's words were exciting her.

    "All right," she said.  "But if I agree to become an apprentice, will you leave the bike and leathers alone?"

    Zep cocked his head on one side.

    "How do we know you're serious?"

    "Try me."

    He narrowed his eyes.  "All right," he said.  "Show us your snatch."

    "My what?"

    "Your cunt.  Take off your knickers and give us a look."

    Charlie stared from one to the other of them.  Her heart was hammering in her chest.  It was an outrageous suggestion, particularly coming from this stranger, but it sent a sudden shiver of excitement through her at the thought of baring all to the bikers.

    "You... You want me to strip naked?"

    "That's what a Spirit apprentice would do if ordered to."

    "But what if someone saw me?"

    "That's your fucking problem. Now get them off, bitch."

    Charlie stared at him. Then, trembling she let her hand drop to the waistband of her panties.

    She hesitated for a second, gazing about her. Then she slid them down her thighs and off.  She tossed them carelessly aside, then leant back against the bike and deliberately spread her legs, aware that this would reveal the pink gash between them.

    "That good enough for you?"

    Zep grinned.  "You're really serious aren't you?"

    She swallowed, her throat dry.

    "Yes," she said quietly.  "I'm serious."