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We left Frisco in the late afternoon, the trunk of my car stuffed with signed books and suitcases of clothes we’d barely touched. My silver sedan wasn’t exactly a road warrior, but it would get us to California.

The miles melted away under the scorching Texas sun as we sped west, talking about anything and everything. Nova and I had been friends since college, and we had a comfortable rhythm.

She’d been engaged once, briefly, to a guy who turned out to be controlling and unfaithful. James was a sex addict who liked her being submissive. He also liked to video tape her. She figured she was all over the internet by now. Needless to say, they broke it off. She moved on, but ever since, she’d been reluctant to settle down again. James was always a topic of conversation.

For me, relationships never even began. My big secret, I was twenty-five and still a virgin. Not because I was prudish or anything, or because I wasn’t as thin as Nova, but because, well… I never met the right guy, never felt like risking my heart and body with some random fling. Books were safe. Studying was safe. And men rarely found me approachable. Tall, curvy, and wearing glasses, I was not your typical girl. I’d get flustered. I tended to babble, which apparently wasn’t sexy. Not sexy enough to get swept off my feet.

At least Nova always hyped me up.

“Smutty,” she teased as we merged onto a highway through New Mexico. “When we get to California, if you see a man who makes you moist, promise me you’ll let him buy you a drink?”

I sighed dramatically. “You know I hate that word… Slutty, you know how I feel about random men, especially bikers. The only bikers I like are the ones in my books.”

“Then it could be time to see if reality measures up,” she said with a wink.

I couldn’t help but snicker. “Trust me, the real ones are not as dreamy as in the stories. My dad was probably some random biker my mom hooked up with once. I never even knew him.”

Nova grew thoughtful. “Still, you can’t work 24/7. You’re a lawyer now, Lex. You’re allowed to get ‘moist’.”

My nose wrinkled. “Will you stop that?”

“You deserve some throbbing manhood. A glistening manroot invading your meatcurtains and inching up your musty cavern.”

“Stop!” I sputtered a laugh. As much as we loved smut, we also loved to laugh about the worst of it.

“Or you could masturbate each other,” she went on, cackling.

“That was the worst,” I agreed.

But she wasn’t wrong. The thought of stepping into a biker rally made me nervous, strangely intrigued, and I hated to say it, ‘moist’.

“I really don’t understand your dislike of the word,” Nova started. “Moist is cake. Dessert. Wet is much worse. Makes me think of a basement or a smelly dog.”

Shaking my head, I didn’t want to get into what would be the best way to describe what the thought of hot bikers did to my privates. “If I’m going to help my mom, I have no choice but to go to this rally.”

“See, it’s already a romance novel. The heroine has no choice.” The back of her hand to her forehead, she fake fainted.

“Real funny.”

We pushed through two days on the road, stopping only for gas, cheap motels, and drive-thru food. Each time my phone rang, I hoped it would be my mother with more details, but she only sent a few cryptic texts. Hurry up or please get here soon . She gave me the address of a big open field near Anarchy, California, where the Kings of Anarchy MC was hosting their rally.

After hours of bleary-eyed driving, we finally arrived in Anarchy. It wasn’t a big city by any means, more like a large town that had grown around a chaotic intersection of highways. Relentless desert sun beat down, its glare shimmering on the asphalt.

We found a cheap motel on the edge of town that had a half-broken sign reading Anarchy Inn—Vacancy . The place looked… well, not exactly five-star, or even three, but at least it was somewhat clean and had a working lock on the door. That was about as much as we could hope for. We checked in, rolling our suitcases into a surprisingly clean room with two queen beds and a rattling air conditioner.

“So,” Nova announced, flipping through her phone as she perched on her bed, “I say we freshen up, grab some outfits that won’t scream lawyer ladies from Dallas , and then head over to see your mom.”

She didn’t have to twist my arm too much. If I was going to step into this place, I wanted to at least attempt blending in. I had no illusions that I’d pass as a regular, but I hoped I wouldn’t look like a total fish out of water.

We found a nearby strip mall with a boutique that apparently specialized in biker attire, or so said the neon sign in the window. Anarchy Outfitters . It seemed like this town had a theme.

Tight leather pants hung from racks, along with cropped tops, studded belts, and riding gear. We both nearly died laughing as we tried on increasingly scandalous outfits.

“Smutty!” Nova gasped, wiping a tear from her eye as she held up a tiny black leather vest that could barely qualify as a garment. “You have to try this on.”

I rolled my eyes but took it from her. “Fine. But if my boobs pop out, I’m blaming you.”

Sure enough, the black leather vest was snug and sexy, showing off more boob than I usually cared to. Paired with a very short matching mini-skirt and tall boots, I looked like I was dressed for a costume party. But Nova insisted it was perfect. She ended up with a short denim cut-off skirt, fishnet tights, a black Harley tank top that showed off her cleavage, and a studded leather belt and short boots to match.

By the time we got back to the motel, we were giggling like teenagers, half-horrified, half-excited. We changed into our new outfits, curled our hair, put on makeup that was far bolder than my usual neutral look.

I stared at myself in the mirror. My long dark hair hung in beach waves over my bare shoulders, my green eyes popping behind my thick rimmed red glasses. The vest was unzipped just enough to show all my cleavage down to the nips. My thick hips and thighs were poured into the mini-skirt, and my boots gave my legs a decent shape, but also made me look a bit taller than I already was. All in all, I felt hot, like a different woman, someone braver.

“All right,” Nova said, giving herself one final once-over. She was tall and slim, her dark-blonde hair tumbling artfully down her back, so she looked like some runway model with a dangerous streak. “Shall we, Smutty?”

I nodded, swallowing the knots in my stomach. “Slutty. Let’s do this.”