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Cutting Leather Chaps before/after A few days ago I was wandering around downtown. There's a four story building, a store, old as much as anything. American old. I hadn't been inside in at least ten years, so I went inside to investigate. The floorboards creaked as I prowled around the haphazard merchandise. Military surplus, much from the east german army, leather clothes, biker apparel. Goofy hats made in sweatshops. Shoes of all description. Obnoxious sunglasses. Incense. I looked up to see an old biker woman, in her early forties but still with her figure looking at me. It was her place when she was her, and she ran a tight ship. Her eyes grew wide as two bikers, or as known anymore due to the massive expense of owning a harley davidson, credit card bikers, strutted in. Peaceful fellows at heart, they just wanted to talk loud, with braggadoccio and swagger, live the part and eventually go home, taking off the leather and helmets, parking the bike in the garage. I let them be and continued my wandering upstairs. Upstairs was a textile merchants wet dream. Fabrics upon fabrics of all color and texture. All the kits and kaboodles one would need to start sewing on the spot, not that I know much of sewing. I'm lucky to get a button back on a shirt. I wandered around the rolls, gracefull touching and running my hands along the different sensations of cotton, tweed, and nameless other fabrics. The biker mama came whirling in with a nice ass and a high energy level. I looked at her lustfully, thinking of some strange spontaneous hookup in an empty office in one of the many nooks and crannies of the building, fucking her from behind without exchanging names. "NOBODY around here knows how to cut leather chaps." she complained to me. "Oh?" I said. "Wanna learn?" she said with a laugh. "Sure." I said. I never turn down the opportunity of knowledge. "Just kidding, " she said with a laugh and whirled off, wearing many rings, bearing scissors and black leather chaps for one of the credit card bikers downstairs. "Can I help you, sir?" one of the floor salesgirls asked me. "No thankyou," I said, "I'm just here to learn how to cut leather chaps." This set the women aback. I walked over to the long desk where the biker mama was setting to cut. She suavely moved into the lesson, measuring and drawing a line across where she measured the heel on the guy sitting down reached on the chaps. "Its important to measure it right." she said, marking a line cooly and with no hesitation, "Measuring is the most important part, because if its measured wrong, its all off. Have them sit down and measure it right on the heel. Mark it with a pencil. " I watched and paid attention, still thinking about fucking her from behind, wondering why a forty year old woman had set me off. Perhaps it was the moxy. Perhaps she just exhuded sex. She looked like she'd shown her tits often at the ubiquiteous call at many biker rallies, maybe even got passed around a time or two, but definitely got off before the miles got long and hard and the lessons lean and cruel. "Right." I said,"You did that a lot smoother than I ever could have done." "Well," she said, "That's because I sew." She started cutting right away without remorse or second thought. "What if you measure it and it comes right to a button?" I asked, fighting the urge to parley this into debauchery. I mean, what the fuck is it with my cock. Sometimes there is just no predicting his lecherous desires. "Well then," she said with a smile, looking me up and down, batting her eyes,"You cut lower, because then you can always cut more if its a problem." I watched her cut, and then it was over. The time for parley had arrived, and I wanted nothing to do with it, in a logical sense. And in this sense, although I do have a certain resolve to capitalize on the weird and unpredictable encounters, this just didn't need to be a part of my past. "Thanks for the lesson." I said, walked down the stairs. I meandered past the salespeople, asking a few questions and out the door. And now I know how to cut leather chaps to size.
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