Tai Anne Roper ended up dreaming all night she was a little white Barbie doll that belonged to an oversexed black girl, who liked to hold and rub her dolly between her breasts, hug her tight, and even insert her headfirst into her overheated cunt.
When morning finally came, Iwana Binder had to drag Tai out of the bed. Tai was not a morning person. So despite getting almost eight hours of shuteye in Iwana's arms, she still had to be poked and prodded and finally carried and dumped into the shower.
Ten minutes later, Tai had rejoined the human race once more, toweling herself off and singing "What A Girl Wants" at the top of her lungs about as well as Christina Aguilera.
She strutted into the living room naked except for the towel she was using to dry her back. That's when she noticed that a bushload of Iwana's dyke friends were camped out all over the living room.
"YIKES!!!" Tai scooted back into the bedroom as the seven lesbians cheered and cried for more more more!
"Goddammit, Iwana, why didn't you tell me we had company!!! I wasn't decent!" Tai shouted.
"Ohhhh, babygrrl... you very decent!" A black dyke named Furious Felicia said. The others cackled with glee and high-fived each other.
"Better get a move on, sistahgrrl," Iwana called. "Breakfast almost ready and its a quarter to seven!"
"Well give me some fucking clothes!"
"Watch yore mouth, bitch!" Iwana called back. "You gots all the clothes you need laid out on mah bed. Now hurry up and get dressed or I'll let some of these leathergals dress you themselves!"
More cackles and high fives as Iwana finished up breakfast and brought out huge platters of eggs, bacon, sausage, home fries and toast, along with enough coffee to float a boat.
"Eat up, gals," Iwana said. She looked damn fine in her pressed LAPD uniform with her sergeant's stripes and shiny silver badge and polished Sam Browne belt loaded down with the twenty pounds of crap a working cop has to cart around these days. Her hightop fade hairdo made her look severe and sexy.
The dykes were chowing down as Tai Anne Roper made her appearance.
"Jiminy Crickets!" she said. "Looks like feeding time at the zoo! And look at this spread! I could hear the arteries clogging in the next room!"
All the dykes looked at her and were simultaneously dumbstruck.
Tai Anne Roper was wearing biker jeans of skintight black leather. Zipped and fitted to hone her form to perfection. She also wore black leather biker boots and a black, turtlenecked sweater that hugged her high and tight looking breasts while still leaving a tantalizing bit of tanned midriff showing. Her long black hair was ponytailed in the back. A matching black leather biker's jacket heavy with buckles and zippers and straps was slung casually over one shoulder.
"What?" she asked, perplexed.
The dykes all went back to their grub, muttering to themselves. Iwana Binder smiled. Tai really had no idea what a knockout she was. A slender girl of 19 with a bodacious ass and a firm pair of boobies, and a face that was a delightful mix of Asian and Mediterranean worlds.
"Grab some eats, sistahgrrl," Iwana finally said with a sigh.
"No can do," Tai replied, pouring herself a mug of black coffee. "I gotta book if I wanna make San Fran by noon." She smirked. "'Sides, I 'm still full from all I had to eat last night..."
Iwana grinned.
"You'll never make SF by noon, gf!" An Asian punker dyke named Fu-chan said. "That's a seven hour drive even if you take the 101!"
"Not how mah sistahgrrl drives," Iwana replied as she sat down at the table. "Even if she takes the scenic route, she'll get there with time to spare. Which reminds me, yo' mama expects you to drop by the commune and say, 'Hi-diddly-hey'."
"What?" Tai nearly choked on her coffee. "How the fuck did she find out I was driving up the coast?!"
"I guess cuz I tole her," Iwana said patiently. "And watch the mouth, bitch. Next time I hear the eff word you goin' over mah knee."
"Yes,'m," Tai groused. The others chuckled.
"Sides, yo' mama is right off the PCH near Santa Cruz. Take you five whole minutes to chat her up."
"I know..."
"Excuse me," A pale Goth dyke named Sara Darke who sported a Brit accent and skintight black PVC asked with reverence. "Is your mother really... -the- Glenna Jane Roper?"
"'Fraid so," Tai said, bracing herself for the coming exultations of how much her mother was admired and loved and worshipped. Glenna Jane was a Christ-like deity to Dykedom at large and the Gay Rights movement in general. She ran a sixties style commune of love and acceptance near Santa Cruz. That was when she wasn't writing bestselling books or appearing on Larry King Live.
"I envy you, grrl," a geekdyke with horned-rimmed glasses named Mary Magpie said. "To be so close to a woman that great..."
"Yeah, its a slice, alright," Tai growled. "So... what are all you riotgrrls doing out this early in the AM?" Tai said to change the subject.
"Dr. Laura is having a booksigning in Westwood today!" A subbie-dyke named Laura Lee chirped. "We thought we'd show up and throw things at her."
"How come you're in uniform?" Tai asked Iwana.
"Oh, I got myself assigned as security for Dr. Nazi Bitch." She grinned wolfishly. "When the Gal Squad here shows up, I'll be on a coffeebreak."
"So why you headed up to 'The City', bonita?" a gal named Chica Chavez asked.
"An actual paying gig," Tai replied. "Matt McClintock asked me to find his missing daughter Jessica."
Ewwwws and ahhhhhs as the gals thought that one over.
"I hear he's a real chauvinist piggie," Mary Magpie said.
"Yeah, dats why Fiona Jacklin divorced him." Furious Felicia said.
"He was married to Fiona Jacklin?" Tai asked. She was only mildly surprised. In LA it seemed like sooner or later everybody who was rich and famous had been married at one time or another to anybody else who was rich and famous.
"Yeah, back in the eighties," Fu-chan said. "Right before she made it big with her health spas and her aerobics videos. That's when they split up."
Tai did the math. "So Jessica McClintock is the daughter of Fiona Jacklin?"
"You got it, babe."
Hmmm. Tai mulled that one over. Fiona Jacklin was a big time actress with two Oscars in her belt, and despite being sixty something, still looked hot enough to woo multi-millionaires and run her own motion picture production company and manage her empire of physical fitness studios, the flagship studio being right here in LA.
"Why did she really divorce McClintock?" Tai asked.
"Who knows?" Sara Darke replied. "I know he married her when she was still just another pretty face in Hollywood. Mid-1960's or so. Had the one daughter, Jessica. Matt McClintock never remarried. Fiona tied the knot two... no, three more times. Just divorced number three last month. No other kids."
"I hear this McClintock is a real pussyhound!" Chica Chavez said. "He'll really dig a cute lil package like you, bonita!"
The dykes all laughed except for Iwana Binder. If Tai had been drawing a cartoon of this scene she would've put a dark cloud ever her head.
"Well, thanks for the info, grrls..." Tai put down the empty coffee cup. "Gotta jet."
"You be good up there, sistahgrrl," Iwana growled.
"Hey," Tai came up to her and pecked her on the cheek. "I'm always good."
"Thet all I get?" Iwana growled.
Tai smiled and put some serious liplock on Iwana that left her still gasping even as Tai made it to the front door.
"Ta for now!" Tai snatched up her knapsack and black motorbike helmet and was out the door.
The other dykes looked from the door back to Iwana.
"Shhheeeeit!" Furious Felicia said. "You gots her under yore skin bad, gf."
Iwana Binder sighed. "Tell me about it."
***
On the elevator down to the underground parking garage, Tai had to put up with a bickering young couple on their way to work. Evidentially the guy was a screenwriter. His girlfriend was a critic.
"So you don't like my script?" he asked.
"The second scene is weak!" the girlfriend replied. "Scene one is so strong and... sexy! Then you get scene two which is all story exposition about who was married to who and yada yada yada!"
"Well I do have to explain who is who... and there is sexual tension between the two girls..."
"Tension semension... its booooooring!"
"Well I can't have everybody fucking like rabbits in every scene. Fuck, maybe I'll throw in a good fight. Yeeeeeeah... A little of the old 'ultra violence', just to stir the pot..."
The elevator dinged and everybody stepped out. It was still damned early and most of the cars were still parked in the long, underground garage. The Bickersons went off to another section, while Tai walked to the corner where her motorcycle was parked.
She slipped on her leather jacket and her leather gloves, turning the corner in time to catch at least a dozen skateboard punks camped out by the exit ramp, doing jumps, ollies and grinds on the railings. Out on the streets they would be fair game for the cops, but down here in the underground carparks they ruled.
Not a one of them was any older than she was. Slack jawed, GenX slacker youth. Out all night from a rave, but still too wired on Xtasy and maryjane to want to go home to their parents' houses in the valley.
It was hard to tell the little boy slackers from the little girl slackers, all wore loose fitting clothes and sported greasy mops of multi-hued hair. They were dirty, sweaty and hung over. Smelled like teen spirit.
Tai Anne Roper would've ignored the lot of them, if their leader hadn't been lying backwards on her parked, fire-engine red, tricked-out Honda TR-1000 Superhawk motorcycle, smoking a joint with his head cradled on the handlebars.
She weaved her way through them and right up to the leader of the pack. He reminded her of that weird guy who had his own show on MTV, Tom Green. Tall and lanky with a goatee and a confused look on his face.
"Greeting, my angel in leather!" he said grandly, taking in an eyeful of her. "Join us if you will! Partake in refreshment or perchance a roll of X! I am the leader of this pack of rascally rapscallions ... My name is ... Morty."
"Hiya, Morty," Tai replied.
"And what can I do for you, my shiny leatherangel?"
he asked her nicely.
"Well for starters, you can get your skinny slacker ass off my ride," Tai replied.
The others gathered around her.
"You might try asking me... politely," he said as he ground out his joint on the throttle bar.
"How about I try... this." Tai grabbed him by the left foot and gave it a three-quarter twist. He spun off the motorcycle and landed facefirst on the concrete.
"Hey, bitch!" A punk grabbed her from behind and got an elbow in the nose. Another swung a skateboard as Tai ducked and he smacked his girl in the face with it. Tai kicked him in the balls as another punk swung his fist at her. She blocked it with the helmet in her left hand, causing him to split his knuckles on the tough surface just before she swung the helmet into his face.
She used a judo flip to fling another slacker into a concrete post, then a side kick to the ribs of yet another, then a spin kick to the face of three more.
In less than six seconds, ten of the twelve skateboard punks were on the pavement.
"Wow!" Tai said to no one in particular. "Either I am getting really good at this... or you guys really sucked!"
"Just hold it right there, leatherangel!!!"
Tai Anne Roper turned to see that Morty --the leader of the pack-- was on his feet and pointing a 9mm Beretta pistol right at her face.
"Awwww... com'n!" Tai cried. "Has this what the new millennium has come to? When even some skanky skateboard punk named Morty is packing heat?"
"You dissed me and you dissed my posse, leatherangel!" Morty shouted, waving the gun in her face. "And for that you must be punished!"
"Ohhhh...punished!" Tai grinned. "You gonna shoot me now?"
"N-not unless I am forced to!"
"Have you ever fired that gun?"
"Yes! O-of course I have! Many times!"
"Then why is the safety on?"
"Huh?" He looked at the gun in his hand long enough for Tai to grab said gun and jack the slide back, jamming the action as she twisted it out of his hand, snapping his index finger in the trigger guard and pulling him forward so he could receive an elbow to the face.
An instant later he was on the ground again, trying to decide what hurt worst, his broken nose or his broken finger.
"Awwwwwrighty, now," Tai said as she expertly cleared the action on the Beretta and brought it to bear. "Who wants to be kneecapped first?"
It took all of four seconds for the parking garage to clear of all twelve of the skateboard punks. By the time Tai had mounted up on her bike and throttled out to the street they were long gone.
A few blocks away while still on Santa Monica Boulevard, she dropped the Beretta into a curbside mailbox. It was a nice piece, but the facts were you had to be 21 to get a carry permit. Tai still had two more years to go before she could pack heat and she wanted a clean record.
She revved the big 8-valve DOHC V-twin engine on her motorcycle, enjoying the rumble and vibe between her leathered thighs. She peeled out, taking a cloverleaf onto the 405 that would lead to the 101 and a straight shot to San Francisco.
It was going to be another beautiful California day, and Tai Anne Roper was already looking forward to the drive up the coast and all the adventure it would bring.
Born to be wild...
Chapter Three