Wolfbitch is a novel
by John McClenny

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John McClenny and Paul Dee Fecteau
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"Hey Sister Spike, What's that with you - a bull?"

The yells of greeting echoed down the length of Trash Alley mixing with the throbbing pain-sound of Blast Metal and the burning cold scent of Ice smoke as Spike and her companion left the lights of the Strip and moved into the shadows of the alley. A leash of shiny black leather ran from a loop on her left wrist to the chrome studded collar on the giant's neck. Beauty and the Beast a more literary audience would say but here it would be Spike and the Bull Dog.

Five-foot-three if you didn't count the six inch spikes of electric blue hair that mohawked the center of her shaved head, Spikes' thin body wouldn't break ninety-five on the scales, but she moved in a way that set the skin on your neck to crawling. Even Ice heads looked for somewhere else to be when her eyes got hard. Her uniform of choice was a high necked, long sleeved black leather top that cinched tight under her breasts leaving her belly bare to the waist of a matching leather skirt that started two inches below her navel and stopped less than that below her crotch. Tight curled red hairs formed a peak that crept up her belly to touch and circle her navel and in lines beneath each breast, tattoos of nipples traced a path - three each down either side - to almost hide the last two in the sweat scented warmth beneath the leather. Two chrome rings glittered on the side seams of the skirt - best hope you never saw her reach for those. Four inches of needle sharp chrome steel - the tattooed tits were new but the spikes had been around for a long time. There might be blood tonight. Too many new faces on the Alley who didn't know and couldn't read the danger behind her Ice blue eyes; Spike had been gone almost a year. A lot can change in a year. Most of the old-timers had thought she was dead.

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