Elizabeth A Mills

The Motorcycle Thief: Chapter 1 of 6

	Dreams...  Incredible thing they are.  I dreamt I was a motorcycle
thief last night - stealin' bikes from Hell's Angels, dealerships, anyone
I thought deserved it.  Of course, I have a bike, many actually because
I'm a motorcycle thief, from crotchrockets to classics.  I've stolen more
than I could ever use.  Sometimes, I'll just sell them and give the money
away.  The others sit in my garage, out in this old ranch in the middle of
the sticks, covered up, waiting for me to give them love.
	This time, my accomplice/lover and I decide to do a Kawasaki
dealership.  She's a good thief, my accomplice, my lover.  Like a mix
between Emma Peel and that chick from Lush, the one with the fire red
hair.  Yea, Nat and I are in this dealership at 2 fuckin' AM in the
morning.  She's in all black leathers and I am as well.  We walked there
from an adjacent alleyway that we took the bus to, just two girls with a
few duffel bags, looking like college students.
	So, we go to the alleyway, pound a few beers and Jagermeister, put
on our leathers and helmets and then we break in. I kick in the window in
the rear and open the door.  We go in.  Nat knows exactly what she wants:
that brand new shiny black Ninja that she saw when we cased the place a
day ago, looking like two college girls again...  She hops on it and I just
think she's so cute I have to go over and kiss her, as the alarm is
screaming.  She knows what to do: starts the engine and revs it as I take
a chair from the back office and break out the front display window. We
kiss again, hard and breathless, her tongue running over the tips of my
teeth, grating.  She revs the engine once more and then speeds out the
broken window frame and out into the street.
	Now, I'm standing in my helmet and leathers, contemplating what
bike I'm gonna take to make this ride interesting... Crotch Rocket, Sports
Cruiser, Cruiser???  No... Enduro! Street and dirt and very fast. That's
the ticket.  I look around the showroom and spot a good candidate.  I jump
on it, check its gas level.  There's some in there so I start it up. I fly
out the window Nat used and out onto the street as she did.  The cops
should be on their way but I can't hear them yet.  They will be.
	I nail it, put that front wheel up in the air, hollerin' at the
top of my lungs.  What I need right now is some Nine Inch Nails in my
helmet.  That would be the killer thing...
	I know where Nat's heading: to an old barn about 30 miles from
town where we stash our bikes and then have sex all night in the loft. 
But, I must get gas first. I ride, nonchalantly, to the nearest 24 hour
gas station and fill up the tank with premium, tip the guy behind the
bulletproof glass with a 50 dollar bill.  He thanks me and I'm touched by
that because I know that he has a shit job: graveyard at some gas station
in some town, USA.  I almost want to give him the bike but then I'd be
screwed and he'd be screwed.  So, I take off. I can hear sirens coming
from far off.  I know that they will probably just do an investigation of
the scene and that's it or maybe they'll come looking.  We've done this
town before.
	I start hauling it at deadly speeds on back roads to the barn.  I
wonder where Nat is...  Riding her ass off on the freeway, maybe.  No one
will catch her.  She's just too good - faster, better and more clit than
anyone else I know.  Fast 'n' Frightening.  Hell-bound.

The enduro was a good idea. I take some trails that I'm familiar with off the road until I hit the barn. It's just standing there, like nothing in the world's gonna affect it and nothing's really going on anyway. I see light flickering inside, like a lantern. I cut the engine when I get to the side door and push it open with my hand while I'm still on the bike. I walk it in, straddling it. The Ninja is there, bright and shiny, in the corner. The barn has a musty smell: old hay, old horse shit, whatever... She's sitting up in the loft, I can hear her pulling off her leathers. I set the bike on it's stand and get off. "That was keen." She calls down. "Slick and easy." I climb up the ladder and stand before her. She smiles and so do I. She motions for me to sit next to her. I walk towards her, pulling off my gauntlets, and unzipping my jacket. I sit next to her and work off my helmet in the casual, methodical way that I do. When I'm finished, she grabs me by my jacket lapels and pulls me to her. We kiss. I can taste the beer and Jager in her mouth still. She grins when we're finished. That evil, glittering grin she always has after we've done good. She pulls out a baggy, mirror and razor blade and taps out a little onto the mirror. She chops the coke and cuts lines. I get out my straw, a silver pipe engraved with dragons, and take a long snort. Fire in my mind! She does so as well with my straw. I can see her body tense and her nose scrunches up in pain. It hurts at first. She relaxes. It's keen shit. We stashed a radio in the barn a while ago. We've only used this place a few times so we're not in any particular danger. She pulls out a tape and puts in the player. Nine Inch Nails. Yea, _the_ band. She and I sit back and start kissing again. I'm trembling from the coke and her touch and the night itself. She's calm, running her hands over my face and through my hair, under my t-shirt, whispering in my ear and then kissing it, nibbling my jaw where the lobe of my ear meets it. She starts pulling off my jacket and then my shirt and I'm pawing at hers. "Closer" comes on. Oh Gods! I can't stop myself and she can't either, pushing me down and sitting on me, leaning down on me... We spend the whole night in the barn.

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