rings out, a helpless cry. That sound goes right through me, ratcheting up my fear.
Spider strides into the room, leaving me no choice but to stumble after him.
21
Becoming
What I find when we get into the barroom is exactly what I expect, except for one thing.
The room is filled with the usual drinking men and scantily clad women weaving between them with trays of booze. The atmosphere is clouded with the typical haze of smoke from cigarettes and cigars. Some of the men are already drunk, by the sounds of their slurred voices, and a couple of them who are flopped on the couches look like they’re high, bursting into fits of laughter. A pornographic movie plays out on the TV screen, and I catch a flash of sweaty skin and libidinous moans as we pass by, except no one is paying attention to it. None of the bikers are playing pool or sitting with the usual pitchers of beer or food. Most of the men are crowded over by the pool tables, only a few sitting at the bar, eyes all on the crowd. The crowd is cheering on… something.
At first, it looks like they’re having one of those fights they usually have outside, the men all gathered around to cheer the combatants on. But then I notice that they’re standing around one pool table in particular. There are too many people congregating there to see what’s got their attention, but something about the scene causes dread to pool in my gut.
Spider had pulled me next to him, but in the middle of the room, he stops, and I hear him snort. “Looks like the boys decided to have a little fun without me,” he says, apparently speaking to the room at large.
He starts toward the crowd, but I halt as if some inexplicable force holds me back. From in front of the crowd comes the unmistakable sound of a hand smacking flesh, and then a whimper. The sounds make me cringe.
“This looks like it’ll be interesting.” Spider walks forward, the end of the leash around his fist and his hand on my shoulder.
I want to ask him what’s going on, but my voice seems to be lodged in my throat.
“Spidy.” Standing among the others, Striker nods him over. “Come join the fun.”
Then Striker moves aside, making room for him.
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. Now I understand both the source of the scream and the reason a room full of oversexed bikers are ignoring the porno movie.
A woman lies across the billiard table on her back, and though the huge crowd around her obscures most of her from view, I can see enough to tell me what’s happening. Rat is between her legs, hoisting them onto his shoulders. Her skirt is bunched to her waist, and he’s ripping her panties off.
My throat goes dry. “Spider…” I step back without thinking.
“No, no, no,” he croons. “It’s time to play, my Little Wildcat.” He pulls on the leash again, and I turn my face to his. “This is going to open up a whole new world for you, and you’re not going to ruin it for me.”
As badly as I want to run, his words awaken a curiosity in me, drawing me to indulge in a scene that, according to everything I’ve been taught, is the epitome of sin. I should be fighting, trying to bolt, but I can feel a part of myself sinking deeper into him.
There’s a loud tearing noise. My gaze returns to the woman in time to see one of the men ripping her shirt off. Her breasts spill free, and amid hungry growls, male hands palm them, fingers digging into the tender flesh.
There’s something panic-inducing about the sight of a woman having her clothes torn off by a guy in a cut, surrounded by a dozen of his pals, all catcalling and encouraging him like boys at the frat parties Seth once described from his youth. The sight is so intrinsically animalistic that it makes me think of a pack of wolves surrounding helpless prey they’ve dragged into their midst.
Maybe it’s just feminist solidarity rearing up, or maybe I’m just scared for her, but a wild urge strikes me, and I nearly start toward her. As though sensing my thoughts, Spider yanks on the leash, keeping me back.
He moves in behind me so that his chest presses into my back. Still holding the leash, his other hand glides around my throat, keeping me against