“The Bike Bitch & The Yutz ”

The low soft rumble seemed to fill every crack and crevice of the hillside as it seemingly drew ever closer.  Then, as the brilliantly painted and meticulously cared for machine broke the crest, it came to a slow and deliberate halt at the edge of the cliff where road and air met as one to overlook the valley below.

Slowly she put the beast in neutral and shut it off, all the while extending the brilliantly chromed side stand into position.  A maneuver that she had repeated many times before to the point it was like breathing.  She did not think about it, she just did it.

As she pulled her sunglasses partially down to, allow a clear visual while still providing protection from the strong sun, she spotted the road sign just a few brief feet away.

“Welcome to Fergus”, it read, “Population 200.”

Now who would name a town “Fergus”, she mumbled to herself, as she sat, with one booted and well-tanned leg straddling the large pale yellow gas tank.

She was the kind of woman that always got second looks and yet, never seemed to notice. Not that she cared if she had; she had her motorcycle and in her opinion, therefore did not need a man. She smiled as she recalled the first time she rode a bike and the thrill it gave her, for the freedom and otherwise…  “Yea baby”, she had reasoned, “no man could match the feeling one felt while straddling a big machine when it was first fired up and began to vibrate…”

She was dressed to match, of sorts. In a pale yellow mini skirt and matching halter-top, that barely contained her generous bosom. Her soft, knee high Italian leather boots were not yellow, of course. Instead, she had chosen a mate black finish to match her beanie helmet… The skirt and top (and her panties as well) matched her bike to a tee, in colour.

“Fergus”, she chuckled to herself, sounds like real bunch of winners with a town named like that…

She did not care what anybody thought, a trait she got from her father and as for her beauty, any one was a fool to let it deceive him or her.  She could thrash the ass of the best of them; men included. At 5’6” and long blonde hair that she kept tied back so as not to become knotted, she was one well tanned, curvaceous machine with one sole purpose in mind, to ride…

As she continued to sit and peruse her surroundings, she espied the town below.  It seemed to be a conglomeration of about 20 0r 30 buildings nestled in what seemed to be the main core with a numerous amount of others spread throughout the valley.  Like so many others, she had seen it was, in her mind, just another wretched community full of hayseeds.  No-minds that relied totally on the talents of the more knowledgeable, such as her self, to guide them like sheep… 

She was a University Graduate with a Law Degree. Daddy was well to do and had ensured his little angel had nothing but the best in education.  However, unlike Daddy she had no intentions of following in his footsteps; not yet anyway; of sitting behind some desk with four walls surrounding her like a prisoner, day in and day out.  No way, no how as there was excessively much to see and she intended to take in as much as she could, her way…  Being the only child, she had pretty well anything her heart desired as she was growing up and had learned at an early stage how to wrap her father around her finger…  It was during her childhood that she had first encountered motorcycles and her love for them never waned, much to her father’s chagrin.

She kicked the giant beast into gear and roared towards her destination with the sounds of ‘Born to be Wild’, running through her head.  God, Steppenwolf must have been thinking about her when they wrote that song, she thought…  They did not know how close to the truth they really were, she chuckled to her herself…

“Hayseeds here I come to your salvation!” she hollered aloud.  “Born to be wild…”  “Oh, born to be wild…” She began to sing along with the internal sounds of her over active imagination …

It was with a glorious passion that she entered Fergus.  The passion of being free, riding as one with the beast and the exuberance being ever heightened as she watched the stares of the towns folk as she roared into view.  Her well-tanned legs stretched out in full length with her booted feet planted firmly on the chrome highway pegs. With mini skirt flapping in the breeze and ample breasts protruding high and firm under extended arms, she guided her steed along the asphalt trail.

What they hey, he thought to himself, as he noted the lone rider barreling down the street towards him.  “Why it’s a woman, and she’s riding a motorcycle”, he quipped aloud.  Zeke (Zoof to his friends) stood wide-eyed as he watched the female rebel pull up to the parking stall in front of him.

He stood 6’ 1’ with short scruffy brown hair, baggy coveralls, a faded plaid shirt and dirty brown work boots.  He was a farmer by trade but had given it all up due to a lack of interest in long hours and hard work. These days often found him more then naught spending his free time hanging around the, “COMFY COUCH INN”, when he wasn’t doing odd chores to make a little extra spending money.  He had sold his farm, he had inherited from his father, and ever being the frugal type, he refused to spend anything other then the interest his money was earning in the local bank.

What do you think you are looking at hayseed, she snorted as she looked up at the scraggly excuse for a man standing in front of her.

As she had cruised down the main street of town she noticed the sign that said, “COMFY COUCH INN” and since she was in the mood to investigate the area further she would find lodging and proceed from there.  She had been oblivious to anyone in her general surroundings until the very moment she had completed parking the yellow beast.

“Why nothing”, he drawled,” his eyes barely glancing up from the spot on the sidewalk he was focused on. The fact he had been caught of guard and that a strange woman would even talk to him.  More so, a good-looking woman like her and the fact she was almost naked made it even harder for him to look at her, let alone acknowledge her verbally.  What, was the world coming to, he thought to himself. 

“Well if you have nothing to say”, she said with a facetious grin, noticing his openly awkward demeanor, “then why don’t you just close that gapping hole in your face and move on…?”  “Better still”; she continued with an impish grin,” Why don’t you help me carry my gear into the Inn for me like a real man would?”  

What a yutz, she thought to herself… God help me if they are all like this.  Perhaps I should shorten my stay for my own sanity. 

“Gear?” he queried, with a quizzical look on his face.  “I’m sorry Miss, but I’m not sure what you mean… “

“Whattttttt the fuuuuuuuk”, she blurted, caught off guard herself by the seemingly uneducated comment…  Catching herself, she quickly began to formulate a plan… 
Perhaps I will stay longer after all, she thought to herself.  Things could be very entertaining, especially if they are all like this bozo…

“Why yes my gear, you big hunk of man you!”  “Or, should I say my luggage that is strapped behind the seat of my motorcycle.”  “Tell you what, you help me and I’ll take you out for some lunch afterwards…” “Capire?”   “You do have places to eat here don’t you”’, she said, sarcasm dripping from every word…

“Yes Ma’am”, he quipped.  “We have a small lunch area in the Comfy Couch, but if you want a good home cooked style meal, you should try Wing’s Diner just down the street.’ He continued, still looking at the ground rather then directly at her. 

He may be a red-blooded man, she a red-blooded woman, but he had been raised a country gentleman, and the women of Fergus just did not dress like that.  Even knee length skirts were considered risqué in these parts.  And as for the majority of tourists, shorts was the extent; except when anyone went swimming at the Old Murphy washout just outside of town, one piece bathing suits were the order of the day for the Ladies and nearly knee length bathing suits for the men. 

“Wing’s”, she cooed to herself, must be Chinese food she thought and she loved Chinese food.

“I’m sorry if I sound so rude”, she said softly, trying to win his trust so as to gather more detail about the town and it’s inner workings.  But I’m just a lonely girl taking some time to travel before I settle down and I would really like the feel of your town and all” she continued, inwardly laughing at the imbecile before her as he continued to squirm in her presence.  What a yutz, a big gullible one at that…  “And I was thinking a nice, strong handsome fellow like you might like to show me around”. She stated with sultry wink and a twitch of her thigh for emphasis. (Posted to Gripe)

She was the master of the flirting game. She knew how to attract attention from anyone, any time. A quick come-hither smile, a little game of look-away-and-look-back-again — before long she always had the object of her temporary affection wrapped around her little finger. One of the best things about her approach was that it was always discreet. She had perfected the inevitable talent of always seen as to be innocent and coy, especially if anything was to be discovered as out of context or misunderstood.

I can't stay focused. He thought to himself.  What is it about her that was causing him to loose control? He felt as if she was in his mind, controlling his very thoughts and body movements.  

I’ll get your things of off your motorcycle meanwhile you go check in at the front desk.  Ask for Linda, she is a co-owner along with Gerry.  Gerry’s okay, a little cranky at times, but Linda is better suited to helping the Ladies.” “As for that lunch you offered”, he continued”, his voice dropping off, “I accept on the condition you, ahhhhh put some clothes on...”

Ever being one to seize an opportunity to raise a little shit and seemingly having the ability to hear a pin drop on a carpeted floor, she heard every word he said.  Dressed, eh, she thought to herself.  What is this yokel talking about I am dressed. 
I’m going to have a good time here after all, she chuckled to herself, and I thought this town was going to be a bore.  In fact, the whole lot may be candidates for the Darwin Awards if this bozo is any indication.

“Why thank you kind Sir,’ she said with a wry smile.  “Asshole, she muttered softly, I’ll show you dressed…” as she grinned with an evil smile that would make the devil himself proud.  “Bye the way, what’s your name for the record”, she queried,” or should I just call you handsome?”

It was all she could do to keep from bursting into fits of laughter on that one, but she managed to regain control and he was none the wiser as far as she could tell.

As she entered the foyer, she noted that for all outside appearances once inside it took on an air of subtle elegance.  It was if she had stepped into a time machine and she had been instantly transported to a miniature of the Waldorf=Astoria Hotel.  It gave her a heady feeling of euphoria as she slowly turned from side to side in disbelief.  The only thing missing was the bell hops running back and forth and the door attendant that would have greeted her rather then… 

Suddenly she was brought back to reality as a voice called from behind the desk, “May I help you Miss?  

“What,” she gasped, “Oh, yes” she blurted as her mind rebounded back to reality.  “Yes you may” she said her eyes focused on the front desk and the slightly balding, portly many behind it.  “I would like a room please!” she exclaimed as she slowly walked towards the desk, her young lithe body once again oozing charm and self conviction of total control. 

“We have several to choose from”, her started to say as he gazed at her, or rather drooled for it seemed the closer she came, the more his eyes lost contact with hers and were adverted to much lower portions of her extremities.

Suddenly his spell was broken as a sharp toned female voice barked at him from seemingly nowhere, “Gerry, you go tend to the squeaky door in room 12 and leave the guests to me.”

“Yes dear” he grumbled softly as he turned and left, his head hung low like a child who had been caught red handed with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Never mind him dear”, said slender built, middle-aged woman.  “He is just a big slobbering pussycat who would not harm a flea, but I love him regardless”. “My name is Linda”, she continued, “and that was my husband Gerry, and welcome to the Comfy Couch Inn”, she said with a smile.

She took an instant liking to this woman. A vision of perhaps how she herself would like to be when she reached that age, still good looking and in control of the men around her…  Yes, she liked Linda’s style for after all; first impressions are the foundation of what the individual is really like as a rule and she had not been wrong yet.

“Yes I would like a room with a view of the downtown area please”, she said.  If that is what one could call it, she thought to herself. 

“Will you be staying long?” Linda queried.

“To be honest I’m quite sure,” she stated, “as I’m on a sabbatical of sorts”.  “You know”, she continued, “just traveling and seeing what the world has to offer before I settle down in one place”.
 
“Ah yes, I remember those days”, said Linda.  “That was how I met the love of my life, eventually we chose Fergus, and this little Inn, but I digress”, she said with a smile of contentment.  “We have a lovely room on the second floor just over our front entry”, she stated. ”It gets the morning sun and has an awesome view of the town and surrounding area”, she had continued.

“I’ll take it and my name is Donna, Donna Robinson”, she said, as she reached for the pen to sign the registry, “My friends all call me West Coast, or WC for short”, she commented. “I guess it is because I was born and raised in Vancouver…”

She felt a strange alliance with this woman, like the mother she never had and whom she could confide in.  Strange as normally, she viewed all women, other then her friends; which she could count on one hand; as the enemy.  She had even found it hard to warm up to her stepmother

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