Ellora’s Cave, $6.99, ISBN 978-1419944673
Contemporary Erotica, 2013
Do you like motorcycle club guys? Of course, we aren’t talking about those troglodytes resulted from the inbreeding of Dog the Bounty Hunter and Duck Dynasty types. Think, oh, rock hard abs and hot models with stubble who just happen to straddle motorbikes and cock their twelve-inch handlebar at the woman that they feel an urgent need to copulate with. The bikers I meet in real life have been pretty nice guys, quite polite unlike the hooligans they are stereotyped to be in the local press, but most of them have beer bellies and, worse, they wear jackets and headbands that smell like these fashionable wears have not touched soap and water since 1984. Therefore, as much as the guys in here endear themselves to me by calling women “cunts” and talking about all of them turning turns on the woman their leader has held captive for sex, I keep feeling that I would smell something really foul every time I turn the page.
The Reapers Motorcycle Club apparently pick all their members from the prime revues of male strippers in the known civilized world, because all of them are hot, or so it seems. If you ask our heroine Marie Jensen, their leader Horse is the hottest of them all. This is because she needs to change her panties every time she sees him, and no, that’s not soy sauce in those panties, if you know what I mean. These guys apparently have some kind of business deal with her brother, and when they catch her brother skimming from their funds, they beat the crap out of him and drag her to Horse’s place where she’d service him right down to every cent that her brother had wrung out from them. It’s really a good thing that he’s hot and her panties get wet at the sight of him, or else, one may assume that this is an exploitation story of rape and Stockholm syndrome that would send genteel readers reeling from horror.
Reading this story is enlightening. Apparently, you need to gyrate on the motorbike dude’s steel bar until he decides that you’re worthy to join the inner circle of their steady groupies, and then, you’d have graduated from being a “cunt” into their “old lady”. It’s kind of sad, if you think of it, because a woman can only be a slut or “respectably ancient” if I’m to go with their terminology. Don’t these guys know hot old slutty women exist and they are fun to play with too? These guy’s view of women is so… limiting, how sad. Still, Horse demonstrates his social finesse by rubbing the heroine’s rear end without even an “excuse me, ma’am” (such sissy talk is for pussies, real men go for “cunts” and “sweet butts”) and telling the heroine that she’s now his prisoner, and him “fucking” her is just a bonus for her. I guess any fleas she catch from his unwashed jacket and pubic hair would qualify then as… commission?
Still, it’s not so bad being the honeypot piñata of Dog the Bounty Hunter – oops, I mean Sons of Anarchy – types. He gets Marie to aim for being better than a dead-end waitress, and he also gets her to use a gun. As he says, chicks with guns are so hot. After you let him shag himself on you into some semblance of a human being, like Marie does here, he shows that he’s a pretty nice guy underneath all that machismo. Besides, she pretty much has his testicles in her grip by the last page, so it’s not like this is a story of a woman being forced into sexual situations against her will. Wait, it is, but still, she ends up on top, in more ways than one, and it’s hard not to give her a high five. She’s a loser with a lousy job and little ability to demonstrate that she can better herself without a man’s prodding – okay, that sounds dirty. and in this story, you can look at it that way – so it’s not like she can do any better. This isn’t Marie Antoinette or even Marie Osmond we are talking about here, after all.
So, motorbike dudes. They are not my thing, thanks to my real life encounter with too many unwashed jackets and headbands for my liking, but I won’t hold it against anyone who disagrees with me. There are many hot men around the world, and we can all choose the ones we’d like to drool over, with plenty left over for seconds and thirds. Still, I wish this story hasn’t become so conventional as it progresses. It starts out like an exploitative movie from the 1960s and 1970s, with scenes after scenes designed to titillate, and I wish the author has gone ahead and thrill me with more unexpected or uncharted territory stuff instead of having Horse become a pretty conventional guy underneath his “Me, fuck – you, cunt!” exterior. If you want to walk the wild side, the first half or so of this book can be quite the experience. Just be prepared for a more conventional pay-off in the end, though. I know, it’s quite the disappointment.