Archive-name: Fantasy/testride.txt
Archive-author: Joe Parsons   (c) 1986
Archive-title: Test Ride


"Put something exciting between your legs...ride a motorcycle!"

I smiled to myself as I read the bumper sticker affixed to the rear of the
Toyota 4 x 4 ahead of me.  As I pulled to the left to pass, I glanced at the
muddy off-road bike securely strapped into the truck's bed.  The driver, a girl
of no more than 20, drove confidently, a tanned arm propped negligently against
the window sill.  Her hair was cut very short, and she wore a half smile as
though remembering how she had covered the bike with mud.

I remembered my own biking days, driving the Triumph 500 through three sloppy
Rhode Island winters.  It was the most unreliable piece of machinery ever
created, but it eventually managed to get me where I wanted to go, with a lot
of noise, leaking oil and making enough racket to collect a couple of tickets
each month. I always ignored them.

It was cheap transportation, and was disreputable enough to collect girls like
a noisy butterfly net.  I began to think of the balmy summer days, days much
like today.

Suddenly I realized that I had pulled into the parking lot of a motorcycle
dealership.  An ornate sign over the store front announced that this was the
home of
                     "QUALITY GERMAN MOTORCYCLES"

In front of the plate glass window, standing as though at attention, were
twenty new BMWs, gleaming proudly in the July sun.

What the hell, I thought to myself; it won't hurt to take a look.

I parked the car and got out, sauntering nonchalantly towards the row of bikes.
It was immediately evident that things had changed in the twenty years since I
had ridden motorcycles.  I caught my breath as I approached the first in line:
a pearlescent grey K100RS.  Four cylinders, horizontally opposed and water
cooled. Each part of the machine was obviously designed for a purpose, to work
in harmony with every other part.  The fairing, with its oversized rectangular
headlight, seemed to be shaped by the wind itself, and the handlebars and fuel
tank seemed to invite a laid- out position.

I walked around the machine, hardly daring to touch it.  I knew that, once I
had my hands on it, I would have a hard time letting go.  As I inspected the
German machine, I began to feel the familiar tingle in my crotch, the slightly
horny feeling I always used to get around motorcycles.  Gently I laid a hand on
the aluminum fuel tank.  It was warm to the touch.  I brushed my fingers across
the seat, then traced the outline of the alloy wheels with my fingers.  It was
all coming back to me now.   I was crouching next to the bike, fondling and
caressing the machine as a lover would, oblivious to the world around me.  I
could feel the beginning of an erection.

"You seem to appreciate the German equipment."  I jumped, startled by the
interruption.  I looked up at the source of the voice, feeling my face redden
slightly.

From my crouching vantage point she seemed to tower over me, and her breasts
seemed so large as to block out the sun.  I stood up, conscious of the slight
bulge in my pants.

She was tall, nearly my height, and wore her long blonde hair pulled back
severely.  Her hips and shoulders were rather broad, implying physical
strength.  Her left hand rested familiarly on the left handgrip, her right on
her hip.  She wore a t-shirt with the blue and white BMW logo and the name of
the dealership just above the waistband of her tight, faded jeans.  The logo on
her shirt was rather badly distorted by her large breasts, and her nipples
poked prominently through the material of the shirt, one at each side of the
circular design.

"Actually, I was just looking to see how far bikes have come since I rode," I
offered, lamely.  I tore my eyes reluctantly away from her breasts to meet her
steady gaze.  She looked back at me confidently.

"My name is Inge," she said, proffering her hand.  I took it, surprised at the
strength of her grip.  "Would you like to take a test ride?"  I released her
hand reluctantly and she rested it on the saddle of the motorcycle, inches from
mine.  She had moved almost imperceptibly closer to me and I found that my eyes
kept wandering to her breasts.

"I'd like that," I said, "but it has been quite a while since I did any serious
riding."  She was absently stroking the bike's saddle with the backs of her
fingernails as she looked steadily at me.  I could smell the soap she bathed
with this morning.  I had a quick mental picture of this statuesque woman in
the shower, her perfect breasts slick with lather...again I felt a stirring in
my groin.  I swallowed, trying to control my thoughts.

"I would be happy to ride with you," she said, and for the first time I was
conscious of a slight accent, her W's tending toward V's and a hint of a
gutteral roll to her R's.  I nodded, not quite trusting my voice, and she swung
her leg expertly over the saddle and started the bike...

                          ************

BMWs have always appealed to me, and as she started the motor, I remembered
why.  The German bike's four cylinders sang a seductive mechanical song, with a
slight whirr of cam chains.  My pulse rate increased slightly at the sound.

She pushed the bike off the center stand, toed the transmission into gear, and
twisted the throttle slightly as she pulled the big machine out of line into
the clear area of the parking lot.

"I'll drive first," she suggested, "and then I'll give you a chance at it."
Hesitating just a moment, I swung my leg over the low saddle and put my feet on
the rear pegs.  It was a short saddle, not meant for two people over a long
distance.  The slight forward tilt of the seat caused me to slide forward
against her.  I could feel her warmth against my chest.  I searched under the
saddle for passenger handgrips and found none.

"Put your arms around me," she said over her shoulder, "and I'll show you
something."  I complied, willingly.  My hands held her waist, just under the
curve of her breasts.  She pulled the bike smoothly out of the parking lot and
onto the main thoroughfare. Seeing no traffic, she twisted the throttle and
released the clutch.  With a turbine-like rush, the 1,000 cc bike accelerated.
Unprepared for the acceleration, I nearly lost my grasp of Inge's waist.  My
feet came off the footpegs, and I desperately grabbed for a handhold.  I
realized that I had grabbed at her breasts. As I released them (somewhat
reluctantly), I could feel her chuckle.  I considered whether to apologize and
decided against it.

"You notice that the BMW has adequate power for acceleration, yes?" she said
over her shoulder, raising her voice against the wind.  The smile was still
there, playing with the corners of her mouth.  She squirmed slightly on the
saddle, rubbing against my hardening crotch.  The slight vibration of the bike
seemed to be concentrating there.

"It's impressive, all right," I replied, wondering if she could perceive just
how impressed I really was.  She turned off the main road and headed towards
the hills and its winding roads.

"Would you like to try it out yourself?" she asked, braking to a stop.

"Sure," I replied.  I dismounted carefully, hoping she would not see the
now-prominent bulge in my pants.  She smiled at me as she stood the motorcycle
on its side stand and got off.  She glanced at my crotch quickly and her smile
widened slightly.

"Get on," she said.  "I'll be right behind you."  I swung a leg over the
saddle, settling onto the seat, and she got on behind, pressing her breasts
into my back.  Was it my imagination, or did I feel her nipples harden as they
touched me?  She encircled my waist with her arms, holding tighter than was
necessary.

"I am ready when you are," she said, her voice lower and huskier than before.
I put the transmission into first, twisted the throttle and eased the clutch
out.  We were rolling.  I shifted into second, then third, and we entered the
first series of tight switchbacks on the deserted road.  The bike seemed made
for this road, and I gained confidence with each sweeping turn.

I increased my speed and leaned the bike more aggressively into each turn,
extending my inside knee and accelerating hard as I exited each turn.  I began
to remember why I rode motorcycles. Inge seemed to be enjoying the ride, as she
clung more and more tightly to me.  Her breasts seemed rock hard, as they dug
into my back.  Her hands were now flat against my stomach.  Her right hand was
just above my belt, the little finger beginning to insinuate itself down the
front of my pants.   I was definitely and visibly aroused now, both from the
ride and from Inge's closeness and increasing familiarity.

There was no longer any doubt about her; she was clinging to me more tightly
than was really necessary, and I could feel the heaving of her chest on my back
as we negotiated the curves.  She laid her cheek against my back.  I sensed
that her eyes were closed.

I slowed the bike.  The sound of the wind abated, and I could hear the slight
rasp of her breathing.  With the road requiring less of my attention, I could
feel that she was pressing her crotch tightly against me, squirming slightly on
the seat.

I stopped.  She tensed slightly against me, then slid her hand inside my shirt,
resting it on the skin of my belly.  She made small noises barely audible above
the soft purr of the bike's idle.

                                    ********

She continued to caress the skin of my stomach and chest inside my shirt.  I
felt moisture at the tip of my cock.  As I was deciding what I might do next,
Inge abruptly swung off the bike, pulling me with her.  Suddenly her arms were
around my neck and she was kissing me hungrily, her tongue darting and
searching my mouth. My arms encircled her waist as I pulled her strong body to
me. Her breasts felt as though they would bruise my chest, and her hard pubis
was grinding against my swollen cock.

She pulled away from me, her nostrils flaring, and grasped my two hands firmly,
placing them on her breasts.  As I caressed her through the thin material of
the shirt I could feel her nipples respond.  Bolder now, I pulled her shirt out
of her jeans and put my hands inside.  Reaching around to her back, I unhooked
the clasp of her bra, then pulled her shirt over her head.  I cupped her large
breasts, marveling at their firmness and the hardness of the nipples.  She was
breathing faster now.  She opened her eyes very wide and looked full into my
face.  Never taking her eyes off my face, she reached down to the snap of her
jeans.  She pulled it open and lowered her zipper.  She was not wearing
panties, and I could see her blonde pubic hair.  She dropped her jeans and
stepped out of them.  The lips of her pussy were swollen and engorged.

She pulled me over to the motorcycle, which was still idling. Still grasping my
hands, she sat sideways on the saddle of the BMW and spread her legs wide.  Her
clitoris was beginning to protrude from the golden curls of her pussy hair.
She pulled my head to her.

I ran my tongue over her fine bush, savoring the taste; it was sweet and musky
at the same time, and as her aroma filled my nostrils my senses became clouded.
Impatient with my browsing in her bush, Inge put her strong hands at the back
of my head and forced my mouth to her.

I licked her clit, first around the base, then, at her urging, took it into my
mouth.  She gasped in response.  I inserted my tongue into her widening pussy
and felt the profusion of her sweet juices flowing.  She was stretched nearly
horizontal across the bike now, her legs encircling my head.  The vibration of
the idling motor seemed to excite her further as I sucked, licked and caressed
her sopping vagina.

My own excitement was building now, and I cupped her buttocks as I lifted her
pussy into my face, drinking deeply.  She was alternately sobbing and laughing
now, clinging desperately to the handlebars of the BMW as I licked and sucked
at her pussy.  I drew back slightly, and caressed her lovely, wet cunt with my
hand.  Gently I stroked her clitoris and took it between my thumb and
forefinger.  She moaned in response, writhing on the seat.  I slid the four
fingers of my hand deep into her sopping pussy, pressing her clit with my
thumb.  Her breath came in short, sobbing pants now, and her hips made short
thrusting movements. I buried my face again, tongue thrusting deeply into her
pussy. Her juice was beginning to cover the seat of the bike, and her buttocks
slid around on the slippery surface.

All at once she tensed, holding her breath and tightening her strong legs
around my head.  I pressed the point of my tongue hard against the base of her
erect clit, encircling it.

"Suck it, please suck it, please, please," she implored between gasping sobs.
I took the firm bud between my lips and sucked gently, flicking the tip with my
tongue.  Her body trembled in response and her legs tightened even more around
my head.

My ears were ringing now, and I was conscious of nothing but the slipperiness
of her juices on my face and in my mouth, and the taste of her engorged pussy.
Her gasps and sobs were rising in intensity and pitch as she approached her
orgasm.  I was dimly aware that my cock was throbbing impatiently, and that my
own juice was beginning to stream plentifully from it.  I continued to lick, to
caress, to thrust with my tongue.

At last Inge arched her back off the seat of the bike, grinding her crotch ever
harder into my face; her taut body was now supported by her hands on the
handlebar and seat, and by her legs around my head.  I marveled at her strength
as she supported her body in this way.  The BMW muttered on, unperturbed.

The juices poured from her pussy as her cries intensified; with a long wail
which increased both in pitch and intensity, she reached her climax.

Her body stiffened, supported between the handlebars of the bike and my neck.
After a long moment, she sagged, her buttocks once again supported by the seat
of the motorcycle.  Her breasts, flushed with her passion, glistened with
sweat.  Her breathing began to return to normal.

She sat up on the seat of the bike and disentangled her legs from my shoulders.
She gazed at me seriously and pulled my face to hers. She kissed me deeply,
licking her own juices from my face and lips.  She held my face between her two
hands and peered into my eyes for a moment.  I waited, motionless, wondering
what this strange woman would do next.

                                     ******

Experimentally, I bent my head to her magnificent breast, taking the nipple in
my mouth.  As I encircled it with my tongue, I felt her respond, pressing my
face into her breast.  This time, however, her reaction was different.  Her
hands, which before had guided me to bring her pleasure, were now busy at the
top of my pants, fumbling with the button.  She undid it as I sucked on her
breast and pulled the zipper down.  My cock, free of its restraints, leapt
triumphantly into the daylight.

Inge stared at it, cooing in admiration.  She slid off the seat of the bike and
pushed my pants to my ankles.  She guided me onto the seat of where she had
just been and pulled off my shoes, then my pants.  She pushed my legs apart and
stood between them, staring at my erect and pulsing member.  She stroked the
length of the shaft with her fingers, then lightly squeezed my testicles.  I
began to feel as though I would burst.  She squeezed the base of my cock,
smiling impishly.

"No, I don't think it is time for you to come yet," she said.  I felt as though
I should disagree.  I sat on the slippery seat, watching her stare at my cock,
and felt my impending orgasm subside.  Still grasping my member firmly at the
base, Inge flicked the tip of my penis with her tongue once, twice, then three
times, savoring the small drops of fluid emerging from the tip.

I gripped the handlebar tightly, causing the engine to rev slightly.

Gently she kissed the tip of my cock.  Licking her lips once, she surrounded it
with her full lips, slowly taking more of me into her mouth.  With agonizing
slowness she descended upon my swollen member until her lips were at the very
base of my cock.  The warmth of her mouth and tongue encircled me and made me
dizzy with desire.

Her tongue began to encircle my cock as it was still deep in her warm mouth.
Deliberately she raised her head, holding a slight suction as my cock withdrew
from her throat.  Finally she held just the head in her mouth and she stopped.
Her tongue was still busy around the head of my cock as she held it tightly
with her lips.  Just as I wondered how long I could survive this teasing
without coming, she took more of me into her warm mouth, again to the base of
my member.  I wondered how she could breathe.

With increasing speed she moved her mouth up and down the length of my member,
first holding just the very tip in her mouth, then taking me deep into her
throat.  Her tongue seemed to flutter and vibrate against my cock as she moved.
In and out her mouth went, making me helpless with pleasure.  I had to have her
then.

I reached again for her pussy.  "I have to fuck you," I moaned. "Please let me
fuck you...please..."  She began to make a sound deep in her throat, an animal
sound which made my entire crotch vibrate.  I knew that I would come at any
moment.

She brushed my hand away, continuing to suck and lick my cock.  I threw my head
back, unable to hold myself back any longer.

My body arched convulsively as my orgasm took control.  I felt Inge lift my
buttocks off the seat of the motorcycle, her mouth still holding my cock.  She
cupped my ass cheeks in her two hands, stroking them, as she sucked me.  Her
head was moving up and down on my cock, faster and faster, licking, sucking,
growling deep in her throat, scraping her teeth up and down the length of my
shaft and up to the head of my cock and back down to the base and up and down
and up and down and licking and biting and sucking and i dont know how much
more i can takeandpleasedont stopdontstoppleasepleaseplease,aaaaaaahhhhh....

Finally, I came, shooting my semen deep into Inge's throat.  She swallowed it
and kept sucking, demanding more.  My loins continued to pulse, seemingly for
hours, with the intensity of that orgasm.

After a time I withdrew from her warm mouth, feeling the sudden cooless of the
open air on my moist cock.  She looked at me with satisfaction.

As I sat upright on the seat, Inge drew herself up to her full height.  She was
slightly taller than me as I sat on the still idling bike, and her breasts
jutted imposingly.

"You will notice," she said, "that the smoothness of the engine is unusual,
even after a long period of idle."  She laid her hand on the rear of the bike.
"The rear supension is the BMW Monolever adjustable swinging arm, with vertical
travel of 110 mm, supported with spring strut and gas-filled damper with
progressive total spring rate and three load settings."

I slid off the saddle and took her into my arms, covering her mouth with mine,
cupping her buttocks with my hands, pulling her body to mine.  I could taste
the salt of my semen on her lips.  I should have been spent, but I felt a
strong desire for her then, a stirring in my loins, as my cock began to rise
again.

She felt it, and pulled away from me slightly, her eyes wide with wonderment.

"You have more left?" she asked, firmly grasping my member as it hardened.

"For you, yes," I replied, anxious to enter her.

"Come," she said, pulling me toward the bike.  She straddled the seat, facing
to the rear, and beckoned to me with both hands.  I mounted the bike to face
her, my cock already fully risen.  Inge lifted her body onto my lap, her legs
twining around my waist. She lowered herself upon my erect member, sighing with
satisfaction.

"Drive," she said.

"Huh?"

"Drive the motorcycle.  Just like you did before."  Her eyes were closed and
she spoke in a dreamy tone of voice.  I raised the BMW to vertical and pushed
up the kick stand.  I pushed the transmission into first gear with my bare toe.
 Twisting the throttle and gradually releasing the clutch, we began to roll.

"Faster," she hissed through clenched teeth.  "Faster."  I increased the speed
and negotiated the turns, Inge impaled on my cock as we rode.  Her long legs
encircled my waist tightly, her arms were locked around my neck.  At the first
turn she moaned slightly and began to grind her body into mine.  The second
turn was faster, a sweeping left hander, and as we exited she was sobbing and
bouncing on my cock.

I tried to concentrate on driving.

I could feel the slickness of her wet pussy impaled on my throbbing cock.  As
we swept throught the turns she bounced and ground on my cock with more and
more ardor, until we neared the end of the road.

Slowly I turned the bike around before we reached the main road with its heavy
traffic.  Inge, oblivious, still bounced and squirmed on my lap.  As I
accelerated through the turns her passion seemed to increase, until, when we
reached the wide spot in the road where we had first stopped to discard our
clothes, she had lost all control.  Her juices poured copiously from her pussy,
liberally coating both of our bodies and the seat of the bike.

By the time I had slowed the BMW, Inge was uttering loud, inarticulate animal
cries as she bounced and squirmed, impaled on my now battered member.  Her
strong legs, twined around my waist, were forcing the breath out of me.  Her
fingers scraped convulsively at my back, and I was sure that she had drawn
blood. Her hungry mouth locked onto mine and her tongue busily explored the
inside of my mouth.

As I brought the bike to a stop she threw her head back, her teeth bared and
flashing in the sunlight.  She clasped me tightly, as though seeking to extract
the very last drop of pleasure from me.  We both held our breath as we sat
there on the slippery motorcycle.  I could feel the strong muscles of her pussy
contracting rhythmically on my cock as she seemed to draw me up into her body.

                                    *******

I was grasping at her now, cupping her buttocks in my hands, collecting
handfuls of our mingled juices and spreading them on our chests and faces.  She
was stroking my cock with her pussy, lifting slowly off my lap, until I was
barely inside her.  She lowered herself on me, burying me deep inside her, then
raised back up again with agonizing slowness.

With each stroke she increased her speed, until at last she was thrusting up
and down on my cock like a fine German machine.  Her gasping sobs mingled with
mine now, as we approached orgasm.

We climaxed noisily, me pumping burning spurts of come into her swollen pussy,
Inge demanding more and more.  She reached down between us, pulling my cock
from her, and I watched the last few drops of my semen issue forth, landing in
the golden curls of her mound.  She rubbed them into her pussy hair, satisfied
at last.

We sat there for a long moment, entwined in each other's arms on the
motorcycle, as our breathing returned to normal.  The flush of arousal which
had spread across her cheeks and down across her breasts was fading.  The sun
had sunk behind the hill to our right and I knew that there would be a chill in
the air soon.

We dismounted carefully, disentangling our arms and legs from each other, and
picked up our clothes.  As we dressed there by the side of the road, Inge
seemed to regain a measure of composure.

"Do you like the handling...of the bike?"  Her accent had become more evident
now.  She looked at me seriously as she tucked her shirt snugly into her jeans.

I grinned at her.

"Can we take another test drive later, after I heal from this one?"  She looked
away.

"I have to get back now."  She opened the small tool compartment under the seat
and extracted a small cloth.  Carefully she wiped the seat, then discarded the
rag.  "Can we go back now?"  I swung my leg over the seat and she took her
place behind me.

I drove back to the dealership slowly, not wanting the ride to end.  As we
pulled into the parking lot I could see that the lights were out and the CLOSED
sign hung in the window.

"Do you have a key?"  I asked.

"No, I thought I'd just go straight home," she said, dismounting.

"Would you like to have dinner or something?"

"Maybe later," she said.  "I'm very tired."  I shut off the bike and got off,
handing her the keys.

"I hope your boss won't be mad," I said.  "We were gone a long time."  She gave
me a mysterious smile.

"Believe me," she said, "he doesn't care a bit."  She kissed me softly on the
lips, looking deeply into my face, her blue-grey eyes wide.  She placed her
cool palm against my flushed cheek.

"Take care," she said.  She restarted the bike and accelerated expertly out of
the parking lot and onto the main road.  I stared after her for a long moment,
and she was gone.

Shaking my head, I walked back to my car and got in, resolving to see her again
the next morning.  I was tired and sore from the unaccustomed acrobatics of the
afternoon, but I felt more alive than I had in years.  I began to sing:

     "I don' want a pickle,
     Just wanna ride on my motorsikkle;
     And I don' wanna die--
     Just wanna ride on my motorcy...
     Cull."

I felt a little silly and thought about what I would say to Inge when I visited
her the next morning.

                                   **********

I was waiting at the front door of the shop the next morning when it opened.
An old man with wispy hair, wearing a greasy jersey unlocked the door and
turned the sign around to OPEN.

I opened the door and walked in, my eyes searching for Inge.  The old man
raised his eyebrows at me from behind the counter.

"Something I can do for you?"

"I was wondering where Inge was," I said.

"Who?"

"You know, Inge...she works here."  I was beginning to feel lost and foolish.

"Ain't nobody here but me 'n' the missus," he said, jerking a thumb back to an
overweight woman in a faded print dress who was sweeping up in the back of the
store.

"But she has to be here," I said desperately.  "I test drove a BMW with her
yesterday.  I wanted to buy it.  I wanted to talk to her.  I had some questions
to ask her...where is she.  Please."

I felt disoriented and dizzy.  I steadied myself on the counter.

"BMW?" he said, as though he had never heard the term.  "That's one o' them
furrin sikkles, ain't it?"  He slid a gnawed toothpick into his mouth and
looked at me.

For the first time I looked around the shop.  There were rusting, battered
pieces of a thousand motorcycles here, strewn in dissaray about the floor and
shoved onto shelves up to the ceiling.   The only light came from three bare
light bulbs suspended from the ceiling by their cords.

Panicking, I raced outside, searching for the immaculate row of new BMWs.  All
I saw was the rusting carcasses of a dozen discarded motorcycles.

I looked at the sign over the plate glass window.

           "UNCLE MAURY'S USED SIKKLE PARTS EMPORIUM"

The sign was hand made and fading, and had been hung crookedly over the store.

My heart pounding, I reentered the store.  The shopkeeper leaned against his
counter, still chewing his toothpick.

"You don't know Inge?" I asked him desperately, my voice hoarse.

"Inge...Inge...Seems like I used to..."  His eyes seemed to turn dreamy as he
removed the soggy toothpick from his mouth.  he looked at me sharply.

"German broad...uh...lady?"

"Yes, yes," I said. "Do you know her?"

The old man scratched at his grizzled cheek.

"Seems like...naw, that wouldn't be!"  he shook his head, muttering.

"Tell me, tell me!" I shouted, wanting to shake the truth out of him.

He squinted at me.  "Well, back before I even got into the sikkle business, it
was, oh, nineteen and thirty five, maybe thirty six..yeah, that was it, thirty
six."  His eyes seemed to go dreamy as he remembered.

"What happened, what happened?"  I was frantic now, desperate to find my love.

"Seems like there was this German broad, sorry...lady who was from some kind of
high mucky-muck family in Munich, back right before the war, you know,
dubya-dubya two.  I was in that one." He seemed about to go off the track
again, but I waited for him to continue.

"The way I heard it, she was supposed to marry some guy, but he went off on his
sikkle and got hisself killed.  It was a big deal, I heard.  Some said his
sikkle had been rigged to fall apart on him soon's he got movin' pretty good.
Way I heard it, there wasn't hardly enough for them to bury."  He trailed off,
gnawing pensively on his toothpick.

"What happened to her?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"From what I heard, she died," he said.  "Went off on a ride all by herself and
just didn't come back.  Folks over there figured she was so tore up about that
guy she was supposed to marry, she just rode her own sikkle over a cliff or
something.  Damn shame, too, from what I hear.  She was supposed to be quite a
looker."

"You mean she was never seen again?" I asked.  "Just disappeared?"

"Well, some folks say she still hangs around people who like sikkles.  Seems
that was what really turned her on, sikkles, and people who knew about 'em.  I
think it's all a bunch of supertitious crap, if you ask me."  He spat on the
greasy floor.

I stumbled from the filthy shop in a daze and opened the door of my car.
Turning the ignition key, I started the engine and pulled slowly out of the
parking lot and onto the main thoroughfare.  Cars passed me on both sides as I
crept down the middle lane of the roadway.

Was she just a legend, or a product of my overactive imagination? Or had that
ride through the country been real?  I felt a deep sense of loss, not only
because I knew I would never find her, but also because I was not even sure she
had ever existed at all.

As I drove toward home, I regretted that we had never had a chance just to
talk.  We had shared total physical intimacy, each of us giving the other
pleasure that was nearly unbearable, and receiving pleasure in like measure.

But we had never talked.

I wasn't even sure she knew my name.

As I turned the corner of my street, I reached for the transmitter of my garage
door opener.  As I pressed the button, I saw a metallic gleam deep in the
shadows of my garage.

Stopping just at the entrance at the garage, I could see it clearly: the grey
BMW I had ridden just the day before.  I got out of the car and walked to the
bike, wondering.  As I circled it warily, I was aware that I was not alone.  I
turned around and she was there.

It was Inge, my beautiful Inge, leaning against the wall of my garage.  She was
smiling at me as she had when I first saw her, her arms folded across her
chest.  I could not speak.

"Do you feel up to a ride?" she asked.

I grinned back at her.

"Only if I won't scare you away this time."  She came up to me, looking levelly
into my eyes.

"Let's go for a ride and we'll see."  She handed me the keys to the bike.  As I
accepted them, she encircled my waist with her arm.

"Let's just go for a ride, she said, her voice low, "and we'll see."  We
mounted the BMW, first me, then Inge behind.  I inserted the key and turned the
ignition on; the panel lights glowed in the subdued light of the garage.  I
pushed the transmission into gear, hearing the solid thunk! as it engaged.
Releasing the clutch and rolling into the street, I felt Inge's grip tighten
around my waist.  As we accelerated I felt her cheek flat against my shoulder,
and her nipples harden against my back.

Her hands were already stroking my chest as we turned off the main avenue and
onto the back road to the hills.  The BMW chuckled as we dug into the turns.

It was a great day for a ride.

--