<div class="floatright">(http://image.motorcyclecruiser.com/f/8819470+w750+st0/lg+1997_harley_davidson_heritage_springer_softail+front_side_view.jpg)<br/><div style="text-align: right;"><sup><em>Doc's 1997 Harley Davidson Springer Softail</em></sup></div></div><em>"Doc" - Dr. Sean Rossi - October 15th 2011 – 7.30 PM</em><br/><br/>Doc cut the engine of his motorcycle and walked it the last few feet to the wooden over hang behind the broken down homestead.  The sun was riding low in the sky and the neon light wasn't even on yet.  He knew he'd be early coming back from the afternoon AA meeting in Geneva, but he must have really been flying.  He made it here before Bert even, and Bert usually hustled to get here every night as well.  He dropped the kickstand on his 97 Harley Softail and made sure that it was under the overhang, just on the off chance the weather turned.<br/><br/>Buckling his helmet onto the back of his seat, he sighed and mussed his hair, trying to undo the helmet hair effect that always happened after an hour on his bike.  He went to the Gulch's door and unlocked it and stepped in, flipping on the light switches.  It was always too dark in here, but he supposed that was what people preferred.  Doc paused just inside the doorway and inhaled a deep breath.  He loved that smell, the smell of old cigarettes, of thousands upon thousands of hours of raw sex, and the tang of women's body spray.  It was a smell that was going to be forever pressed into the wood, into the soul of the Fucking Gulch.  Doc smiled and pat the wood of the doorway, letting the outer door fall shut behind him as he moved into the building.  Unzipping his leathers, he peeled them off, a simple t-shirt and denim jean combo beneath them as he turned and walked down the stairs to the basement lounge.<br/><br/>The basement was divided up into three parts.  The largest part a lounge with a bar for staff or clients to relax before or after sex sessions.  Then the other half of the basement was divided into storage, a small office with a safe, and of course a tiny kitchen where Doc could cook up food to order.  Doc liked cooking, it relaxed him.  Sometimes people didn't like it when he experimented with his food though.  Like it would kill someone to have swiss cheese on their burger instead of 'orange'?   But he had promised he'd behave, and was trying to keep things simple.   He turned on the lights in the lounge and moved behind the bar and began to set up his stations for the night.   The booze didn't even call to him anymore.  Without the stress in his life that he used to have, he just didn't feel the need for the burning liquid to sear his throat.<br/><br/>The loud muffler cutting out some time later told him that Bert had arrived.  It wouldn't be long now till the girls started arriving.  Hopefully they'd come down here to chat with him while they waited for their night's clients.<br/>