Page 140 - Tales from the Bear Cult: Bear Stories from the Best Magazines

132 Furr

I could crash in one of the upstairs bedrooms.
So seductive.
Big-Time breakfast.
Big-Time cigars.
Big-Time bikers.
Big-Time whatever.
Later that night, home alone, I was strokin’ to the
fantasy that Teddy really meant it when he asked me to
move into the house, and that all the bikers had gathered
around me and offered to help move me in, which was
good, but, I confess, I had to shower, clean up, and go back
to work to make the payments on my condo, my Volvo,
and like...you know.

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