Pull

As I entered the clubhouse after getting acquainted with my new vehicle, I understood why Ace never allowed me to attend MC parties. It was almost too much to look at. The girls were in various states of undress, and the men were going nuts. There was a woman on the stripper pole getting pretty graphic, and I was not impressed. For a party that was meant for me, it was really becoming not my thing. I leaned up against the bar and gazed at the scene in front of me. Juice had his face in some woman's breasts, and Chibs was flirting with his favorite croweater, Emily Duncan. I didn't share the men's enthusiasm about her, in fact, she irritated the piss out of me. But whatever. It appeared that Gemma had already went home to go to bed, so I was the only woman here who was not a complete slut.

I was beginning to feel out of my element, so I pushed myself off the bar and began gathering my presents to take to my room. I couldn't stand to watch the glitter covered women or the men drooling over them any longer. I guess Ace was right. No self respecting, classy woman belonged at these parties. I guess if I had been drunker, It wouldn't have mattered much, but I didn't want to be here anymore. It had been a long day, and I was tired. I carried all of my things to my room and set them on my bed, then went back to the party only to grab my unfinished bottle of Jack from earlier. It was still on the end table in front of the couch, where surprisingly, Tig was sitting alone. I figured his woman of the evening had probably got up to use the restroom or something.

"Where's your date?" I asked sarcastically.

"I'm not in the mood for a whore tonight," he said, gazing at me and taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"Holy shit, Tig, not in the mood for some ass. Did hell just freeze over? Did Jesus return?" I asked, reaching my hand out to feel his forehead. "No temperature, so you're not sick,"

"Knock it off. I just ain't in the mood alright?" he said, swatting my hand away.

I dropped down next to him, deciding that I could keep him company for a while. I opened the bottle in hand and took a drink, wincing as the liquid burned it's way down my throat. I leaned back, resting my head on the back of the couch, and propped my feet up on the table, my dress riding up a little to display the tattoo on my thigh.

"I didn't know you had a tattoo there," Tig observed. "How many others you got hidden under that dress of yours?"

"Enough," I said, smiling.

"You've been drinking a lot since you got here, you doing okay?" he asked.

"Sure. It just helps me sleep at night," I responded.

"More like helps you pass out. We've been having to up our stock of Jack because all of the bottles seem to disappear," he said.

"I can drink something else if you prefer," I replied.

"If it was my choice, I'd say Tequila. You know, cause it makes the clothes fall off," he said, winking.

"That's a myth. I've tried," I said smirking.

"What? A Myth. I don't believe you. I think we should conduct an expiriment," he said, standing and holding his hand out to me. "Shall we?"

I took his hand and let him lead me to the bar. It was occupied by Juice and some broad making out. I scowled. Tig tapped Juice on the shoulder and told him to go somewhere else. The girl thought this meant that Tig wanted her.

"I don't want your sloppy seconds man, I got business to take care of," he said, shooing her off. I laughed.

"I'm still baffled that you're refusing companionship," I said.

"I ain't refusing nothin'. I got you, don't I?" he said smiling and grabbing a bottle of Patron.

"Oh, top shelp I see," I said smiling. "You know I hate Tequila, right?" I said.

"Top shelf for my favorite lady," he responded, getting salt and lemons.

"Such a gentleman," I quipped.

"Only to you, doll," he said. "I ain't goin' soft, so don't even say it,"

"Wasn't going to. Now pour me a shot and start your little expiriment," I demanded, hoisting myself up to sit on the bar.

"So pushy," he said, huffing and pouring a shot. I quickly took it and made a disgusted face.

"I hate tequila,"

"So you've said," he said, pouring himself and me another shot.

After about a half an hour and several shots later, I was feeling pretty incapable of logic or any sort of basic motor skills. I was swaying a little bit, hoping that I could pass it off as dancing to the music, but I think Tig knew otherwise. I suddenly had the urge to lay my face on the cool tile of the floor, so I made an attempt at getting down from the bar. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I drunkenly looked at Tig, deciding he would be sufficient for holding on to to get myself down, so I clamped my hands on my shoulders and scooted foreward, causing my dress to inch up.

"Shit," I said giggling.

"I'll help you doll," Tig said, grabbing my waist and lifting me down.

"Thanks," I said, still holding on to his shoulders to steady myself. He was still holding my waist, but I didn't register that.

"We should probably get you to bed," he said, giving me a strange look.

"Oh, a slumber party? Can I paint your nails?" I asked.

"Uh, no," he said shaking his head, but smiling.

"C'mon, Tiggy, I wanna paint you all pretty," i stammered, struggling to walk in my high heels.

"Are you calling me ugly, doll?" he said, pretending to look offended.

"Nooooo I never said that, I think you're a beautiful man, sir," I slurred.

"You're drunk," he said.

"You're an ass basket," i retorted.

"A what?"

"Asssss Basssskkkeettt," I replied, drawing out the words.

He laughed, but picket me up and carried me to my room, as it was pretty obvious that I couldn't walk myself. He set me down to open the door, but it was locked.

"Where are the keys, Shiloh?" he asked, trying the knob one more time.

"I dunno," I said. "Doors are magical, and they eat keys," I said, the alcohol hitting me more and more with each passing moment.

"You really need to lay down. Where did you put the key to your door?" he asked again. It was amazing that he wasn't more drunk than I, as he probably consumed more. The fact that he was older than me didn't really register at the time.

"You should me as intoxicated as me," I accused indignantly.

"I'm older, and have more expirience than you," he said calmly.

"EW! Get your liver spotted ass away from me, you old perv," I said giggling.

"But I have to change your diaper and tuck you in for bedtime," he retorted.

"Touche," I slurred.

"Where are your keys?" he tried again.

"If they were in your ass you'd know," i responded, leaning against the wall to hold myself up.

"You're just full of it, doll. Look, I'll take you to my room to lay down, just don't say anything to Jax and Clay, they ain't gonna like it," he said, picking me up and walking a little farther down the hallway.

"I'm gonna tell the whole world. I'm gonna write a song about it," I slurred, the movement from Tig walking making me slightly ill.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he said, setting me down to open his room.

"You're not a good idea," I said.

"You're drunk. Come on, lets get you layed down," he said, grabbing my hand to pull me into his room. He peeked his head out to make sure no one saw, but I was too busy scaling the wall to help me walk. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm James Bond, Bitch!" I said, continuing my way around the room. I stopped for a moment and gazed at Tig. "Tig, I need my jammies," I stammered, sounding like a small child in distress. I could see myself behaving like this, but I couldn't do anything to stop it. Tequila had taken the driver's seat on my brain, and it was progressively getting worse. I momentarily wondered how much of this I would remember.

"Your room's locked, doll, unless you can James Bond yourself under the door, you'll have to deal with what you have on," he said.

"It's uncomfortable," I said.

"Alright, I'll find something for you then," he said, turning and digging through his drawers. "Here," he said, walking over to the wall I was currently attatched to and handing me a navy blue shirt. It was rather large, considering Tig was a large man.

"I can't reach the zipper," I said, turning around and expecting him to remedy my issue.

"This isn't right, Shiloh," he said.

"Since when do you refuse a woman who needs help undressing?" I asked.

"When I have respect and admiration for said woman," he said. "Look, Shi...I'm attracted to you, but there's that whole 'you can't touch Shiloh unless you want your head on a platter' thing," he said.

"I'm not asking you to have sex with me, Tig, I'm asking you to unzip this god forsaken zipper so I can get out of it. Nothing dirty about that," I said, swaying a little.

"You're not a man, you wouldn't get it," he said, sighing heavily and unzipping the back of the dress. I held it up in front.

"Kay, turn around," I said, turning to glare at him. He raised his eyebrows, but faced away from me so I could get his shirt on. "Done," I said.

He gave me a very strange look, his Ice blue eyes burning with something I wasn't familiar with. He huffed and shook his head. I was too drunk to understand why he seemed so upset all of a sudden. He placed his hand in the small of my back and led me over to his bed to make me lay down. He layed down first, probably to try to lure me in. I went to crawl over him, but paused in a stradling position on top of him.

"No one ever has to find out about us, Tig," I said, whispering.

"Shiloh, stop. I ain't got that much control. You're just being a tease,"
he said. trying to push me off.

"I'm not being a tease, Tig. We're just two people who are attracted to each other, alone," I tried to reason. I don't think at this point, I had any cognitive ability to understand the line between right and wrong. Tig, however, did.

"Maybe, but you're completely wasted, and I'm not going to take advantage of that. Now lay down and go to sleep," he explained, "And tell me before you puke, I hate cleaning that shit up,"

"You're an ass jacket," I said, my head hitting the pillow. I curled into a ball and got comfortable, falling asleep almost instantly.

"And you're gonna be the death of me, doll," he replied affectionately, raking his hands across his face in a stressed out motion. He layed on his back, staring at the ceiling for a long time before he fell asleep, arm draped across me.