The rider just sat there pondering what had just gone on...a siren across town broke him from his thoughts. Shaking his head clear, he fired his bike he clicked again and was off into the night.
He pulled down into the darkened driveway. A solitary light lit up the porch. Pulling up on the grass, he kicked the sidestand down...leaning over on the bike he recovered his flat stone, in all the years he'd been coming to this address his pet rock was the only thing about the yard that remained unchanged, a groove had worn on its surface from prolonged use of his side stand rubbing across its surface. With his bike stable for the night he clicked off the ignition.
He crossed the lawn mounted the steps walked across the floor and through the screen door. There she stood in the doorway, her arm reaching up the jam..silhouetted by candles from the room behind her...her silky flowing nightgown hugging her in all the right places. The rider felt his passion for this woman rise slowly, as it had done for years. He began to undress...the light on the porch winked out.
Laying on fluffy pillows the sunlight streamed through the bay windows, a steaming hot cup of coffee stood before him on the side dresser , its aroma heightened his senses and he opened his eyes. Standing by the end of the bed was a vision of leather splendour...light brown /blonde shoulder length hair...a grandpa t shirt its buttons undone to about half way between her breasts...a brown cotton vest...brown leather pants buckled with large buckle at her waist....fingerless gloves and brown boots laced up the front to her knees...she stood there looking down on his prone form....He smiled...she cocked her head to the side and slyly smiled back...I haven't got all day she said...I told you last week what was happening this morning...get your carcus outa my bed..and meet me down at the carnival grounds....I'll be in the green and white striped marquee....she turned on her heel and strode out the door...he lay there listening to her boots stompin down the stairs across the wooden floor and out...the screen door slammed behind her...he heard her boots clomp across the porch...down the stairs and on to the gravel path...He reached over and grabbed the steamin cup...tilting his head and body over he took a tentative sip...the brew scorched his lip....but he drank from the cup regardless...he heard her bike firing....then a backfire..he heard her swear...he smiled...inwardly to himself...she can never get it started when she is mad...he lay back cradling the coffee in his hand listening...The bike fired on the third attempt..she brought the revs up and sat there idling....he heard the bike clunk into gear...and she brought the revs up more and rolled down her driveway...a dog began barking at the noise created by her bike...he listened, she rolled out onto the street outfront brought the revs up more then tore away up her street going through her gears as she left...He didn't know how long his dozed for....the coffee had gone cold in the cup....he placed the half drunk cup back on the dresser . and swung out of the now cool bed...he dressed slowly, as a breeze flowed through the double doors on the first floor bedroom...dressed he reached down and lifted the cup to his lips skulling the cold contents of the cup..,Out through the screen door he stopped and hinged a small bar locking it closed...down the stairs and across the now dry lawn...Firing his machine he waited then rolled out of the house and was gone himself.
The carnival was in full swing...he rolled into the entrance, a young chap with scruffy blonde hair directed him to the motorcycle parking area. Parking his bike he scanned the crowd and spotted the green and white striped marquee..heading through the crowd he stopped and bought himself a hot dog and fresh cup of coffee..he ate and drank as he manouerved through the throng. Seeing her behind the makeshift counter trading goods with a large group of buyers, crowded into her marquee...she was his lady and he was proud of her... her merchandise was all hand made and she was fiercely proud of her handiwork, and it was popular... most biker products were for some reason.....He had been there assisting her for about 3 hours, if the crowd looked like diminishing it didn't, she was running low on some items but had miles of other stuff, on hand that was as popular....a voice said Hey man hows it going? The rider looked up....a hand shot out from the owner of the voice...before him stood another man about 2 inches over 6 feet...sunglasses jeans boots a t shirt and achain hangin from his belt loops...the rider just looked at the man down to his hand and back up again.....whats the matter bud don't you recognise me?