She finished anyway. “That the women are like groupies for a band or a celebrity. Or maybe badge bunnies for cops?”
“It’s a way to be a part of our club without bein’ an ol’ lady.”
While she had noticed the women wearing leather cuts like their significant others at Dino’s, when she and Whip arrived at The Barn, none of them were wearing them anymore. When asked, the ladies had explained they only wore them on a club run or when other MCs were visiting.
An easy way to identify who they belonged to.
That would be a good explanation, except when she asked why the patches on the back were different from the men, specifically that their top patch said, “Property of” and their bottom one had the name of their ol’ man, they gave murky answers.
Then they acted as if they only wore them to satisfy their husband, boyfriend, or whatever they considered their significant other.
However, a woman being property of not only a club, but a man… Did the club members truly believe that they “owned” their women? Was it possible in this day and age? Or was there no real meaning behind it and she was overthinking it?
Either way, it was one more piece of the MC lifestyle she was eager to learn about and planned on asking Whip for more details later. If he refused to answer, she’d look it up herself online.
In the end, if she wasn’t overthinking it, she had no say to how those ladies lived their lives. It didn’t affect her in any way and, truthfully, all the women appeared happy, with both their men and their way of life.
On the surface, none appeared downtrodden, abused or even coerced.
“Do the sweet butts want to be an ol’ lady?”
He tilted his head. “Guessin’ so.”
“Do they ever get that chance?”
“They could. Nothin’ is stoppin’ one of my brothers takin’ a sweet butt as their ol’ lady.”
His answer made her believe that in the club, the status of an ol’ lady was much higher than a sweet butt. If true, it would make sense. “Would you?”
She didn’t miss when he glanced over her shoulder at something—or someone—behind her. “Depends.”
She slowly turned on the stool and noticed who he was looking at. A woman with short black hair dressed in a black leather mini-skirt, fishnet stockings with rips in them, shin-high black lace-up combat boots, an off-the-shoulder tight black top that showed off her many tattoos, a thick black leather collar circling her neck, and wearing very dark, heavy makeup, along with black lipstick. She was short and stocky.
Goth, that was what it reminded Fallon of. Or Emo. She wasn’t sure what the correct term for that look was anymore. Did Whip have a crush on her or something? Was Fallon stepping on another woman’s toes? Because she was not there to do that. Up to this point, she had enjoyed the time she had spent with the younger man and had more than enjoyed the sex. But none of that was worth causing issues between him and another woman. “On?”
“She’d have to be the right one.”
She turned back to him and watched his face carefully when she asked, “Is she the right one?”
His blue eyes hit hers and he frowned. “Not even close.”
“Is she a sweet butt?”
“She is now.”
Five thousand more questions popped in her head at that. She wasn’t sure how many he’d answer, but she’d ask some of them and see. “She wasn’t always?”
“Not in the beginnin’.”
“You were dating?”
“Not… quite datin’,” he answered, but also didn’t volunteer any further information.
If he didn’t like her line of questioning, he could shut it down, but until he did… “Then what?”
“Just experimentin’ for a time.”
Experimenting? “I don’t understand.”
He shrugged again. “At the time, I didn’t, either.”
He was a man, he wasn’t going to have a cozy little chit-chat with her about a previous relationship or whatever it was, without her dragging every answer from him. “And now you do?”
“Know what I want.”
He put a lot of conviction behind that answer. “And what do you want?”
“Not her and not what she’s into.”
Fallon asked, “What’s she into?”
“Hardcore shit.”
Once she processed his answer, Fallon lifted an eyebrow. “Like BDSM?”
“Yeah, like that.”
“And your club brothers still sleep with her.” She didn’t have to make it a question, Fallon figured since she was a sweet butt it was true.
“What they do with her don’t got anythin’ to do with sleep.”
“I was being tactful.”
“Don’t gotta be tactful. Just call it what it is. Slick words don’t cut it around here. Go ahead and say what you mean since you like me doin’ the same.”
“Okay. Your club brothers have sex with her and that doesn’t bother you?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause it was what it was for how long it lasted. We hooked up, then after a bit decided to do our own thing ‘cause it wasn’t workin’.”