On Sundays, various biker groups would congregate at a Bar-B-Q joint just outside of town. The four biker chick mistresses and their slaves were joined by Slick and Mark and their owners. They rode out together, the chicks in biker leather and boots while the slaves sat behind in their white slave shirts, torn, faded jeans and tennis shoes. The wind tore open the Velcro closures and the shirts blew back like white capes, exposing smooth hairless skin. The slaves escorted their mistresses into the restaurant and then retreated outside to clean and polish the bikes. They were embarrassed as patrons came and went. Slick and Mark left their shirts unfastened and smiled at those staring at them. When spoken to, they talked to strangers and old friends, addressing them as sir and ma'am and descr
