Only the Moon could See

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Tank leaned on the bar, enjoying the feel of a cold bottle in his hand, the taste of beer on his tongue, and the friendly chaos of the clubhouse where he and his brothers went to unwind. Classic rock ‘n’ roll thumped and wailed out of the jukebox. Drunken laughter and the clack of pool balls echoed around him. Neon signs advertising every manner of alcohol decorated the walls, glowing in a riot of colors behind a haze of cigarette and cigar smoke.

Nearly half the chapter was here tonight. Eleven of his brothers, five of them in the company of their old Ladies, plus a couple of unattached honey’s lounging around made for a lively crowd and a full house. The booze would flow. Brothers would fight. Honey’s would cozy up to whichever man seemed best suited to scratch their itch.

Just a typical Friday night for the local chapter of the Red Tide biker gang.

As taverns went, the Jokers Wild was not a large establishment. The furnishings were mismatched and well-worn. It was not easily found on Google search. The only indication of the business inside its walls were two wooden signs nailed to the front door of an otherwise unremarkable looking, two-story, brick building.

One displayed a skull and crossbones design, except the crossed bones were two assault rifles. The other was a warning to the foolish and the unaware. “No colors, no entry. This means you, mother fucker.”

Tank smiled into his beer and shook his head. And yet, despite that friendly warning, every once in a while, some ass hat with no sense of self-preservation would walk through the door. If they were respectful, one of the brothers would explain their mistake and escort them out. If they came in looking for trouble, then that too was on the menu.

“What are you grinning about?” Slider asked from the stool on Tank’s left side. He sat with his broad back against the bar. Salt and pepper beard hung almost to his belly, a stark contrast to the complete lack of hair on his head. Tattoos decorated every square inch of his bare arms, from knuckles and shoulders.

“Just thinking about those college kids that walked up in here last month.”

Slider through his head back in a burst of explosive laughter. “Yeah, well, they learned a valuable lesson.”

Tank took another sip of his beer. “And a few bruises. Some people just do not understand what “not welcome” means.

The bell over the front chimed, a notification to all present that someone had walked in. Slider looked up. “Yep.” The old breathed. “And thank God for that.”

Tank heard the odd, almost awestruck tone in Slider’s voice. He looked up to see his brother staring wide-eyed at the door, mouth hanging open in the tangle of his beard, and turned around to see.

He felt his jaw unhinge as a long pair of shapely legs in a short skirt walked toward him through the haze. A tight, black dress emphasized the curve of hips tapering to a narrow waist, only to flare again over high, firm breasts. Silence trailed behind her like ripples in still water until the only sound was rock ‘n’ roll music and the click of heels on the battered hardwood floor.

Tank tore his eyes away from the neckline of that dress and the pale cleavage on display to look up, past the graceful lines of her neck and the gentle fall of thick, auburn hair, and over the soft swell of painted lips. She stepped closer through the smoke. Familiar, blue eyes looked up at him.

Tank felt a hard slap of recognition. “Kerri?”

“Hi John,” she replied, using his birth name. “Buy a girl a drink?”

From somewhere in the back, one of his brothers let out an earsplitting wolf whistle. “Baby girl!” another called out to a rumble of agreement from the other men in the room and a murmur of anger from the women.

Tank looked around the room, swallowing against a surge of protective anger. “Pipe the fuck down.” His voice carried across the bar. “This is my sister.”

A collective groan of good-natured disappointment filled the smoky air.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Kerri frowned up at her brother. “I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself. You should know. You taught me how.”

“Yes, I did need to do that.” He growled. “You can’t just walk into a biker bar looking like…”

“Like what?” Kerri looked him in the eyes and arched an eyebrow in challenge. Her voice was challenging.

Tank struggled to find the proper words for a reply. They just piled up behind his teeth. “Looking so beautiful.” he managed.

“Oh.” A blush touched her cheeks. “Thank you, John.” Kerri smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “I needed to hear that more than you could know.”

“Don’t that fucking figure.” Slider grumbled. “A woman as fine as you walks through the door and your family. Damn the luck.”

He heaved a sigh, then vacated his seat at the bar and patted it an invitation. “Sweet thing, if you get tired of hanging out with your boring ass brother, I would be happy to buy you that drink.” Slider looked up at Tank and scowled. “How does an ugly bastard gaziantep rus escort like you have such a smoking hot sister? You adopted?”

Kerri offered a smile and a friendly handshake to Slider. “Close. Step-brother. My dad married his mom when we were children.”

Tank was still staring at her. “Fuck off, Slider.” He replied in a distracted tone of voice.

“Yeah, yeah.” Slider grinned and winked at Kerri as he walked away.

“So, how about that drink?” she asked.

“Sure.” her brother replied. “Have a seat. Buzz, give the lady whatever she wants.”

“Tequila,” Kerri ordered she settled on the barstool. “And make it a double, please.”

Tank raised an eyebrow at her as he too settled onto his barstool and leaned on the counter.

Kerri shrugged. “It’s been a long night.”

“You want to tell me about it?’ he asked.

“Yes, but give me a minute, ok?” She made short work of the tequila shot and signaled for another.

“Sure.” Tank nodded. “Take your time, sis. I’m always here when you need me.”

Kerri blinked at him. He could not read the expression on her face. “I know you are.”

In truth, Tank did not object to a moment of silence. His thoughts were tangled and troubled. Smoking hot sister, Slider had said.

And she was, Tank now realized. He had seen her, all tits and legs, a woman in the prime of her sexuality, before his brain had time to recognize her as family.

My sister. My baby sister. He repeated the thought in his head like a prayer. As if by will alone, he could make himself forget what he had seen and felt at her approach.

In his mind’s eye, he summoned a memory of Kerri as a skinny tomboy with dirt on her face. Of having attended her wedding to Bradley, smiling until he thought he jaw would crack. Cheering as she graduated from college to begin a successful career as a trial lawyer. All the things a good brother did for his sister.

“Bradley and I are getting a divorce.”

“What?” Tank snapped out of his troubled thoughts. His hands curled into fists. Hard muscles rolled beneath the US Marine tattoo on his forearm. “If he hurt you…”

She laid a hand on his clenched fist. Her touch was gentle and cool against the heat radiating from his flesh. Logan stared at the contrast of her small, elegant hand and manicured nails laying on his large, sunburnt, battle-scarred knuckles.

“It was a mutual decision.” Her voice was calm, but Tank knew her as few ever would. He could hear the pain beneath the surface and knew that it ran deep. “Neither of us was happy, John, and I don’t want to go on living a lie. This is for the best.”

Tank took a deep breath and let his rising anger go. “I never liked that guy.”

She smiled. “I know.”

He looked her in the eyes. “And you never loved him.”

Kerri blinked at him. Undefined emotions swam behind her blue eyes. “How would you know that?”

Tank turned his hand over to wrap his fingers around hers. “I just know. I’ve always known.”

She took a deep breath and looked away, blinking rapidly. Kerri shook her head and looked down at the bar. “Life just doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“No.” He said. “No, it sure as hell doesn’t.”

Both of them seemed to realize that they were still holding hands. Both sat back and disengaged. Kerri cleared her throat and gestured to catch the attention of Buzz at the other end of the bar.

“I need more tequila. A lot more. Will you drink with me?”

“I would love to, sis, but one of us has to get you home safe, and I’m not about to drive drunk on a motorcycle with you on the back.”

“Fine then. We drive first and drink after.” She replied. “Hey, Buzz. How much for the whole bottle?”

Buzz glanced at Tank before answering. “I’m not supposed to sell liquor by the bottle.”

Kerri leaned forward over the bar. Poor Buzz was torn between looking into her pretty blue eyes or staring at her breasts, threatening to spill out of her little black dress. He attempted to do both.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” She smiled at him. “Please?”

Buzz never stood a chance.


Stars wheeled overhead, shining brightly in the endless black of deep night as they stepped out of the Joker’s Wild. The moon hung large and full, softly glowing with blue radiance. Golden light and noise spilled out behind them. The door shut, muting the rock-n-roll to a rhythmic throb.

Tank looked over at his sister, at her blue eyes, so wide and vulnerable looking in the moonlight. “Ready?’

“Yes.” She replied. “Yes, I am.”

Tank walked over to his Harley and knelt to secure the liquor in a saddlebag. He threw a leg over. At a touch, the engine rumbled to life. He braced and held the bike steady.

“You’re not exactly dressed for this, ya know.” He tried not to think about her little black dress and how little of it covered her long legs while standing, much less straddled on the back of his bike.

“I’ll manage.”

The gaziantep swinger escort bike shifted as Kerri stepped up onto the footpeg and threw a bare leg over the seat behind him. Tank heard the rustle of cloth. He glanced in the side mirror.

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, a tiny triangle of black silk and lace was perfectly framed in his mirror as his sister lifted the hem of her dress to give her legs room to spread for the machine between them. He could see the plump softness of her sex cradled behind that thin cloth barrier and the flash of smooth, naked inner thighs.

Tank looked away, looked anywhere else. It didn’t matter. The image was burned into his memory.

Stop it! He told himself. Stop looking. Stop wanting to look. Tank wondered why his pulse was racing. He wondered if he might suddenly be sick.

Kerri twined her hair into a braid and then settled in, molding her body against his back. Tank stifled a groan as her hands slid around his waist, her naked thighs lay soft and warm against his denim-clad legs jeans, and her breasts pressed against his back. He could smell the scent of Jasmine in her hair.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked over his shoulder.

Kerri laid her chin on his shoulder. Her cheek brushed against his scruffy face. “Don’t you know?”

The only sounds were the distant thump of rock music, the hum of passing cars, and the chirping song of crickets in the tall grass.

“It might not be there anymore.” He replied. “Some things change.”

“Some things don’t.”

Tank took a deep, shaky breath, then nodded. “Alright, then. Hang on to me.”

She held onto him tighter. “Ready… when you are.”

Swallowing against a dry mouth, Tank nodded and guided his Harley onto the road. The engine purred, then roared as the bike got up to speed. Night wind tore at his hair and clothes, scouring his flesh and replacing her scent with the smell of earth and green.

The road twisted and turned in the glow of headlights. Tank leaned the bike into the turns, and his sister leaned with him. They moved as one; a perfect, unspoken union of flesh, machine, and motion.

Every mile carried them farther away from the lights and noise of the city. Vast stretches of farm fields, bathed in the blue radiance of the full moon, stretched from either side of a two-lane towards a shadowed horizon. Tank eventually slowed and turned left onto a tree-lined, dirt road. The only sound was the crunch of pebbles beneath the rolling tires and the rumble of the engine.

Tank found a break in the trees and gently maneuvered the bike onto a grassy field. Just ahead, a small hill rose above the surrounding landscape. On the crest of the hill was an oak tree rising, gnarled and ancient, toward a glittering expanse of stars in a black velvet sky.

A blanket of silence swept over them as he shut the engine off. Tank waited for her to dismount. Now that the engine was still, he could feel a slight tremble in her hands gripped tight around his waist.

“Ladies first.” He prompted.

“I just…need a moment.” She gasped.

“Are you ok?” He tried to turn and look at her. Kerri reached up to his shoulders to prevent it.

“Yes! Fine. Really. I had just forgotten how much I enjoy riding bitch on a motorcycle. Just let me catch my breath.”

It was then that he caught the unmistakable scent of a woman’s arousal on the still air. Shocked laughter rumbled out of his chest. “Did you just…”

“Shut up!” she laughed. “Several times,” Kerri muttered almost too low to hear.

“Well…” Tank licked his lips and tried to ignore that scent or the painful swell in his jeans. “Not the first time that has happened. Just not…”

“With your sister?” she finished for him. “Yeah, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, big brother. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but I grew up.”

“I noticed.” He replied in a somber tone.

“Ok, I’m good. See you at the top!”

He watched as she climbed down, kicked her heels off, and ran toward the top of the hill, their hill.

Tank pulled the tequila out of the saddlebag and followed at a more hesitant pace. He found her sitting on the grass, staring out at the star-filled horizon. Blue moonlight bathed her in ethereal glory.

He sat and opened the bottle. They passed it back and forth in comfortable silence, listening to the rustle of the leaves swaying in the breeze, and the whispering echo of memories. The grass swayed around them in gentle, sweeping ripples.

Tank lay back in the grass. It was then he noticed something else swaying overhead. He looked closer at something lacy and dark hanging from a low hanging branch.

“Are those your panties?”

“Yep,” Kerri replied as she took another strong pull at the bottle before holding it out to him. “Drink.”


“To get drunk?”

“Why are your panties in the tree, smart ass?” he laughed as he took possession of the tequila.

“To gaziantep travesti escort dry out. Have you ever worn wet lace panties?”

“Uh, no.” Tank coughed. This was not a conversation he wanted to have, and he really did not want to think about his beautiful sister sitting so close with a wet pussy and no panties on. Or maybe he did want to think about it.

No, I don’t. He told himself even when he could not get the image out of his head.

“Well, take my words for it. It’s not fun.”

“Ok, I will.” He drank enough tequila in one go to make his eyes water.

“You will what, big brother?”

He looked at her. Kerri was leaning back on her hands, legs slightly open. There was a light of challenge in her eyes.

“Take your word for it.”


He thought he detected a note of disappointment in her voice and chose to blame it on the booze.

“I love it here.” she sighed up at the stars. “Always have. This was my safe place after dad vanished on us, and mom crawled into a bottle of gin.”

“I remember.” Tank murmured and took another drink.

She looked at him with a sober, serious expression. “I used to come here all the time after you joined the Marines.”

Tank clenched his teeth against a tightness in his chest. “Kerri, I’m sorry I left you alone with mom.”

She turned to look him in the eyes. “Don’t you be sorry. Don’t you ever be sorry for that!” She took a breath and went on in a gentler tone. Emotion choked her voice. “You’re the only reason we didn’t starve or end up homeless. You sent every dollar you ever made to us until…”

Tank offered her a gentle smile. “Until I was shot. It’s ok. You can say it.”

“Does it still hurt?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“Liar. Can I see it?”

“That’s kind of morbid, sis.”


Tank sighed and took another drink before setting the bottle down. “Fine, but don’t freak out, alright?” He lifted the edge of his shirt to his chest.

“Lay back.” Kerri crawled over beside him and gently pushed at his shoulder. “Let me get a good look.”

Tank did as instructed. His sister lay down beside him, resting her head on the one hand and stared at the play of shadow across his six-pack abs. “Damn, big bro. Work out much?”

He grunted laughter. “Keeps me out of trouble.”

On his left side, smooth skin ended abruptly at a twisted knot of mottled, scar tissue. She reached out and traced fingertips over the ruined flesh. She looked up at him. “Can you feel that?”

Tank just shook his head.

“Turn over.” She said in a soft, vulnerable voice. “Let me see it.”


“Let me see it.” Big, blue eyes pleaded with him. “Please.”

Against his better judgment, Tank rolled over onto his stomach. He heard Kerri gasp. He had heard similar reactions before, but coming from her, it hurt more than the lingering pain of a broken body.

“Hollowpoint.” He explained. “Expands on impact. Bigger hole coming out than going in, unfortunately. “

“Oh my god, John.” She sobbed quietly. “I never realized… oh my god.”

Tank rolled over and sat up. Tears spilled down her face. Having nothing else to offer, he pulled his t-shirt off and handed it to her, revealing a tapestry of tattoos across his chest and arms.

Kerri made no effort to hide the tears or wipe them away. She just sat on her knees and held his shirt in her hands. “You almost died for us.”

“No.” He wasn’t going to lie, not to her. Maybe it was the tequila talking. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore. “For you. Always and only you.”

Her fragile composure shattered. Kerri fell on him, flinging her arms around his shoulders with desperate strength and letting herself break in his strong embrace. Tank held her and let her cry out the new pain and guilt of a failed marriage and the old pains that had lingered, secret and unspoken, through the years. Tears streamed down his face, and he felt no shame for it.

In time, she began to calm down. They held each other in silence, long after the last tear had dried. Holding her for the rest of his life would not have been long enough.

Kerri pulled back and looked at him with puffy, red eyes. She laughed and wiped at her face with his shirt. “I must look a mess.”

“You’re beautiful.” Tank replied. “You have always been beautiful to me.”

She blinked at him, the shirt forgotten in her hands. “Do you remember the last time we were here?”

He nodded. “You had just turned nineteen, and I was back from my first tour.” Tank swallowed. “I remember we almost made a big mistake that day. One, we swore not to let happen again.”

“You swore.” Kerri took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. “John, I love you.”

“I love you too.” I love you too much. He thought to himself.

She shook her head. “No, John. I love you. I always have. You are the only man I have ever loved.”

“Sis… Kerri, I don’t…”

She laid a hand against his lips. “I don’t care about that. We are not blood-related. All I care to know is, do you feel the same way I do? Do you love me?”

“I…” He couldn’t do it anymore. His guilt and doubt flared and turned to ash in the heat of her confession. “Yes, goddammit. I love you! “

Kerri growled and shoved him onto his back in the grass. “Than stop treating me like your baby sister and love me, you hulking idiot!”

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