… I present to you the first text of Leather, Spikes and Everything Nice! (I feel like a crappy teen writer, but whatever…)
As he waited impatiently in the decrepit parking lot, he finally spotted a shiny black Harley coming his way. It roared and stopped in an impressive maneuver a few feet away from him.
He saw, mouth agape, as she swung one shapely leg over the tank of the bike and pulled off her dark purple helmet to set free ribbons of black. She took off her black leather jacket and swung it to rest on her shoulder.
She started to walk towards him.
At first look, she was daunting. Tall; around 5’10”. Large; with his vast experience of the female anatomy, he guessed her to be a size 14 or borderline 16. Her ebony hair touched her elbows. A silver piercing shone in her right brow. Tattoos covered her arms, her back (what was visible to him), her collar bones and even the side of her face. The art on her body could almost rival his own.
His shrewd eyes missed nothing as he swept his keen gaze all over her. A black tank top was all she wore over a pair of dark battered jeans and combat boots. On her hands were biker gloves, and around her neck was a vintage-looking pendant on a long rustic chain.
Her skin was pale. Her eyes were covered with large dark glasses. A small nose adorned her oval face. And her lips, luscious as they were, were covered in blood-red lipstick.
Said lips were twisted into a scowl and her eyebrows were furrowed in annoyance.
He had to look as intimidating as she did, so he crossed his arms over his chest to look just so. He even glared at her a little. With his own impressive height of 6 and 4, he was sure he was doing a good job at appearing the typical alpha male.
She smirked, amusedly, at his obvious display of ‘I am a man and I’m not awed by you’ drama. She was half expecting him to start barreling his chest and yelling like a caveman anytime soon.
She stood within arm’s reach, took off her sunglasses to reveal her Heterochromia Iridia ridden eyes, and raised one dark brow at him.
Without saying a single word, she mirrored his stance.
Waiting for the spoiled motherfucker to start whining at why she was here, she tapped her foot impatiently on the concrete floor beneath her boots.
His eyes widened a little and he immediately lowered his arms to hang by his sides, just as she suspected.
That was why she gasped in surprise as, with a quick motion, he grasped her wrist and turned it upwards to loot at the scars that went crisscross to her elbow.
As his bottomless dark eyes met her own unusual ones, a vague thought flew through her mind that she might just have met her match…