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Vincent Motorbikes

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Harley, Vincent and biker chicks

Harley Davidson, Vincent, Norton, Triumph, all classic bikes owned and ridden by an army of biker babes.

My crazy chick was a mix between actress Juliette Lewis and singer Courtney Love. She was sexy in an unkempt, unruly kind of way. She hated to be told what to do, hated to be bored, and was always on the lookout for the next thrill.

I was a well-behaved geology major who found work at this biker cafe called Fuel on Center Street in Milwaukee. The owner let me spend quiet time reading my books and idling online. There was no loud-mouthed manager who made me wash plates and silverware if the place was empty. No one got on my case about sweeping the floor or wiping the tables.

My own boss

I was my own boss, and everyone was happy so long as I kept the bikers and their women filled with strong coffee, beer, and sandwiches. They called me Snoopy for reasons I don't understand. It can't have been anything to do with my name, Doug, so go figure.

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Rear view: Biker girl in thong

Anyhow, my biker girl, Jessi, was tall, slim, big-boobed, with wild red hair, and skirts so short you could see her panties whether she bent over or not.

When I met her she was dating this guy, Vince, who looked like Mickey Rourke, not in his glory days, nor even as The Wrestler, but as Johnny Handsome, the disfigured hoodlum in the Walter Hill movie.

Vincent Comet

Vince rode a beautiful but ancient Vincent Comet which he loved more than anything else in the world, including Jessi. He'd let Jessi buy the coffee and sandwiches while he parked himself near his parked bike, not allowing anyone near it in case their breathing would scratch the shiny black paintwork and chrome.

More than once I heard Vince screaming at Jessi as she climbed onto the bike behind him. How many times I gotta tell you, woman, you're gonna scratch the paintwork with your fu-king shoes.

Then he'd dismount, pace round the bike muttering and swearing. He'd use his bandanna to get rid of a smear, wipe over what he perceived to be a minute scratch, then insist on Jessi getting back on touching the bike with nothing but your ass

Rant session

After a particularly bad ranting session, Jessi walked away from Vince while he was screaming at her to stay and listen to him. She came into the cafe and ordered a beer.

Vince sure loves his bike, I said to her.

Vince is a f-ckin' jerk, she told me. He loves that bike more than he loves his own momma.

Come back here, b-tch, Vince was screaming.

Screw you, a-shole, she shouted back, climbing onto one of the tables with her high heels and skimpy black miniskirt.

Some of the customers looked up and demanded I tell Vince and his woman to shut up or leave.

Jessi, can you keep it down, I pleaded. We don't want to upset the paying customers.

You need to stop being so f-ckin' polite, she said. If you want me to shut the f-ck up, you just gotta tell me to shut the f-ck up.

She sat on the table, legs wide apart. She just didn't care she was giving me an eyeful of thong and thigh. She loved that I couldn't concentrate on my work. I just kept staring between her legs.

I know what you want, Snoopy, she teased. Tonight, you're gonna get exactly what you want.

Leather love

That was the night Jessi left Vince and became my girl. She didn't complain about my push bike -- which Vince wrecked a few days later -- nor that I spent so much time buried in books, and took almost no interest in the biker scene. I wasn't even into leather jackets.

Jessi was a sexual wildcat who kept me raw, saw, and satisfied for 10 long months . To this day, years later, I long to have her long legs wrapped around my back while I'm humping her madly on the floor, kitchen table, or on the back lawn by the laburnum tree.

A few times, when sex has been great between me and my wife, I've called out, Yeah, baby! Yeah Jessi, gimme that pu-ssy of yours.

My wife, who's called Patti, would pull me out, pull away, and scream at me, When are you ever gonna forget that damn Jessi. You're obsessed with her.

And yes, it's true, I am obsessed with Jessi my biker girl. She was the wildest, kinkiest, most liberated woman I have ever known.

Everyone woman since her, including my wife who I love dearly, has been a bitter disappointment.

By Doug Snoopy Copeland