Lover’s Escape

I pull up to her door and sound my horn, it sounding feeble in its attempt to garner attention. Shaking my head at the absurd situation I find myself in, I raise my visor and shout “BILOU! LET’S GO!” I sit nervously for a long minute, my fingers drumming on the pawgrips, feeling increasingly edgy as the time passes, resisting the urge to twist the throttle menacingly by only the slimmest of margins.

Then I see her, running from the door that leads to her apartment, dressed in clothes that are entirely inappropriate for motorcycling, followed, far too closely for my comfort, by an enraged male. She arrives breathless, and hops onto the back of my machine, her arms tightening around my waist, urgently.

“Go! Go!”

She cries in my helmeted ear. With one last backward glance, I twist the throttle, and away we fly, a squeal of brakes my only clue that I cut someone off as I burn my way out. The roar of the engine drowns out the cries of the male behind me, along with the squeal of brakes and the blare of horn… The only thing that holds sway upon my senses is the strong grip of my lover against my waist, as she holds me against the forces of our escape, and we cruise that way, quietly, off into the night.

We ride together over the Victoria Bridge, my tires smooth on the cracked and broken pavement, the lights washing over us; green, and white, as we ride into a new future, together…

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This story inspired a picture by my better half! Click HERE to see it!