"Little fuckin' cunt," the biker panted behind her, his boots kicking sprays of sand high in the air as he pursued her.

"Oh, help, help!" Christina cried, sucking in air through her flared nostrils. She couldn't move as quickly as she needed. The sand pulled at her legs, making every movement slow and painful. Behind her, she could hear the biker gaining. Gritting her teeth, the young woman poured every ounce of strength she had into escaping.

"Gotcha!"

The blonde teen screamed as the biker curled his fingers around several strands of her blonde hair and yanked down. Stars popped in front of her eyes as her head snapped back. Her arms jerking out to either side, Christina's knees buckled and she fell to the soft sand.

"Bet your cunt ain't been plowed much the way you been runnin' from me. Man, soon as I spotted you walkin' along the pier I knew you'd be fresh and hot," the biker said in between gasps.

"Let me alone! My father's got money. He'll pay you anything. Just don't touch me!" Christina screamed, rolling onto her belly as she covered her bare tits protectively.

The biker stopped for a moment, crouching over the whimpering teenager. He wiped his thick lips with the back of one hand and studied her thoughtfully.

"Money, eh?"

Christina twisted her head around and peered up. For the first time, she was able to see his face. The full moon peeped out from behind the broken thick cloud cover, silvering the area. He was wearing Levi's that apparently hadn't been washed in weeks, tucked into a well-worn pair of leather riding boots. Her eyes travelling upward, Christina noticed he had no shirt on, his hairy broad chest covered partially by a black leather jacket. His face was ruggedly handsome, framed by a pair of mutton chop sideburns flaring around into a bushy moustache that drooped over his upper lip. Pushed back over a crop of thick tangled black hair was a biker's leather cap. He was everything the Venice community feared was returning to the beach.