The Mack bounced up the rutted road bobtail and the low hanging tree branches scraped over the blue and white paint job. Fortunately the air ride seat took most of the jolting but Rage was tired and sore from the long haul, and looked forward to a long hot bath and some good welcome home sex. He had made good time and was going be home a day early.
It was 7 pm when the Mack turned into the drive of Omni Vigilantes Domi, the name of his Log Cabin. It meant "All Home." He was fond of the cabin that made from the trees of the local forest, just like the pioneers had made their homes. He had built it himself, sure he had used modern tools and materials to make it sturdy and slate tiles on the roof. It was simple in the extreme but he had all the mod cons. It was powered by solar cells mounted on the roof and a series of deep discharge batteries for storage and a 5kw inverter enabling it to be self-sustaining for electricity. He had sunk a bore for water and a tank for drinking water. Pressure was maintained by a series of water pumps. Grey waste water was directed to a natural filter system which returned the water after under-going a purification process back to the lake, cleaner than the natural lake water. The sewerage was sent to a septic tank to be broken down biologically. This was positioned 250 feet from the cabin.
The layout was simple. One main room downstairs with a kitchen and toilet on the west wall, while on the mezzanine floor, there was a sleeping area, en suite, walk in wardrobe and a place for his exercise equipment. He had a multi-function weight bench, a 100kg body bag and a speed ball. These were needed to keep him in shape and to exercise his stress, frustration and anger.
He was proud of what he had created with his own hands.
The lights were all off and the cabin looked deserted. He let his prime mover idle for 5 minutes and shut it down. Climbing down from the cab he grabbed his bag and walked to the front door. Trying it he found it was locked. He opened the lock and entered. It was as quiet as a tomb. Throwing his bag on the couch, he wandered to the fridge looking for something to eat. It had been a long time since he had had lunch, only to find it was as bare as Mother Hubbard's cupboard.
Disappointed, he decided to ride to the local Bar and Grill, known locally as the Achat Bar & Grill for dinner. He climbed the ladder to the loft and stripped off his dirty clothes making sure he dropped them in the laundry hamper and headed for the shower. Turning on the water, he stepped under the hot water and scrubbed the grime from his body, washed his hair and then shaved and trimmed his beard.
Feeling refreshed, he dried himself off, grabbed his Kevlar jeans, a clean tee shirt and his leather vest. Just wearing the vest brought back memories of his youth. Road trips with friends no longer here. Good times and bad from his days as an "Outlaw" bikie. He also remembered the day he walked away from the club world, the day his daughter was born. As his hands eased her from her mother's body, he was helped by the doctor who guided his hands.
Her first contact with the outside world was his touch. He pulled her to his chest and hugged her tight, feeling his heart swell with unconditional love for the tiny human he had had a part in creating. And the promise he made her that moment was to never do anything that could take him away from her, never to leave her unprotected. It took 20 minutes before he would give her up to the nurses attending the delivery. He would never be the same again. He was a father. He has responsibilities.
Shrugging off the memories, he went down and checked on the low-rider. He checked the chain, fluids, and a general look over. Priming the carby, he jumped down on the kick starter. It fired on the second attempt. He could never get it perfect. It had always needed a second kick to burst into life.
He pulled in the clutch, dropped it into gear and eased the clutch out. The heavy bike rolled out onto the dirt road and he headed to the interstate and the AB&G. His mouth watered as he thought of the steak he was going to have once he got there. There was good food and great service there. It took 15 minutes 'till he rolled into the car park in front of the AB&G. He climbed off the bike, stretched and headed inside.
Rage was still considered an outsider there, having only been around for 6 months, but he was recognised by the regulars. Nodding to them as he approached the bar, the barman had a bundy and ice waiting for him. It was a nice personal touch. He had a chat with the barman and caught up on the local news. The bar tender was always a great person to find out what been happening while he was away. So for 20 minutes, between serving customers and wait staff, Rage got the latest gossip and stories. Eventually his stomach was rumbling loudly, so he figured it was time to eat.
Getting a refill, he headed to the dining area and found a seat with a good view of the entrance and his bike. He settled down to wait 'till he was served. The waitresses were friendly and pretty and he enjoyed watching them, ferrying the meals to the crowded room. It wasn't long until one came to take his order. He had gotten to know the waitresses fairly well as he ate there a couple times a week when he wasn't on the road. He usually had a laugh and flirted with them a little. It was all good natured, nothing serious, just some fun to break up their long nights.
Tonight he was served by a new waitress who he hadn't seen before but it didn't take long to get her smiling at his lame jokes and flirting. She was young, maybe 22 or 23 with the trim figure of an athlete. Her name was Elizabeth but she said everyone called her Beth. He introduced himself telling her he was called Rage, telling her it was because in his youth, he had been a hard party animal. In truth it was his club name, given to him because of his temper. These days, he had that pretty much under control. Maybe the 14 counts of aggravated assault he been in prison for, had had something to do with that or maybe he just gotten old and mellowed out. Regardless, it was a rare thing now for Rage to lose it.
A few minutes later, Beth returned and set his table and asked if he wanted another drink, "Sure," he responded. It was a short ride home and the roads were never patrolled except for the interstate. There were only 3 miles to the turn off to his place. Beth mentioned that the kitchen was busy as there was a large party that had ordered and his meal would be about 30 minutes.
He said, "No worries Beth, I'll go and have a game of pool in the back room. Can you give me a yell when my steak is on the grill?"
With a cute smile Beth responded, "No problems, Rage I can do that."
Angie was busy cleaning the cabin. Her man was going to be home tomorrow. It had been a week since he left, and Angie was eagerly awaiting his return. Just thinking about him and imagining his actions on his return, made her wet. She could feel her panties growing damp and her nipples were hardening as her activity caused the material of her shirt to caress them roughly.