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Subject: {ASSM} The Ride (MF. True) By Katzmarek
Date: Sun,  9 Feb 2003 11:10:03 -0500
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<1st attachment, "The Ride.doc" begin>

The Ride


By Katzmarek


Author's note.
This story is basically true. Some things distant in time have
been compressed into one story, however. It contains sexual
material so if you have a problem with that I'm not sure why you
are in ASSTR.



The bike was just flowing into the sweepers. All that work I'd
done on tyre pressures and suspension had set it up just right
for me and it handled as if on rails. 


I couldn't wait until the famous Takapau plains. That stretch of
flat open road with its long straights that provide the perfect
venue for the customary speed test. You come down a rise enabling
a perfect view for kilometres ahead to check traffic, cops, road
works and other hazards. Then it's power on and enjoy the ride.


I was on my way to the Hawkes Bay, on North Island New Zealand's
East Coast for a month's work on a big show. It was 'Guys and
Dolls', an American musical with a cast of around 40. I was hired
to do the lighting and we would be doing about half a dozen
venues.


I hated the idea of sitting in a bus with a whole lot of giggly
chorus girls and temperamental singers and the thought of being
crammed into the crew truck perched on a box of colour 'gels'
didn't appeal. No! For me the freedom of the open road and a fast
motorcycle was too hard to resist.


So I'd got the lecture about 'lack of team spirit' from the
director and such like but I knew my job and I knew the show
backwards. If they wanted a professional job done efficiently
then those were my conditions. 
'Give me the address of the Motel and I'll see you there'.


Coming down the hill the adrenaline began to pump in
anticipation. This was the moment I'd been waiting for. I hadn't
seen any apparent hazards from the top so it was 'all on'.


Around the last corner I snicked down a gear, straightened up
then snapped on the throttle. The purr from the twin Conti
Exhaust changed to an angry bark as the Tachometer hurried
towards the 'red zone'. The front 16" Pirelli Phantom lifted
momentarily as I felt a sudden surge of power. 160kmh flashed
past on the Speedo, 170, 190, 200 'fast enough,' I thought to
myself.


The rush of the wind was the only sound I heard as it tried to
pluck me off the saddle. The buzz through the hand grips and foot
pegs was quite tolerable thanks to the rubber mounts on the
engine and the counter-balancing shaft, smoothing out the big V
twin.


Dots in the distance quickly resolved them selves into a group of
riders. Too fast, I suddenly caught up to them. The other lane
was clear however so I went wide to pass them. Flashes of gang
patches, black leather and coalscuttle helmets.


A milk-tanker pulled out of a farm gate, right in front of me. I
squeezed on the big Brembo disks and pulled back into the other
lane. Beside me I was looking into the face of a pot-belly, big
hairy character stretched back by the high bars and extreme
fork-rake of his big, customized Harley-Davidson. His face was
the picture of surprise.


In front of me another rider sported 'Magogs, New Plymouth' on
his back. I just avoided shunting his 'soft tail' in the rear.


A stream of cars now began to pass in the other lane, all caught
behind a car towing a caravan. I was terrified, my skin was
crawling and I could feel the beads of sweat forming under my
helmet.


The two riders in front were about two metres apart. I made a
snap decision, borne out of fear, and aimed the bike in the gap.



This time the front wheel came completely off the road for about
half a metre, as I snapped on too much power. I was clear,
however, and ahead, only the open road.


When I arrived at the next town I decided to gas up. Next to the
gas station was a cafeteria and the thought of a bowl of latte
and a sandwich suddenly appealed. I was sitting there in the sun
for about 10 minutes, smoking a cigarette when the small Town
Street suddenly vibrated with a low rumbling sound.


Riders began passing by like an angry herd of bulls, all snorting
and grumbling. The rumbling noise began to resolve itself into
individual sounds as each bike passed. Open exhausts,
straight-through pipes, the big Harleys certainly created awe and
apprehension among on-lookers. With 50 odd bikes together the
sound is indescribable.


I had a certain awe and apprehension of my own, however. The big
red Ducati sat outside the Caf pinging to itself in full view of
the passing riders. 'How stupid of me to stop and let them catch
up' I thought.


A few of the gang had stopped at the gas station. The clattering
of their bikes bounced around the forecourt as they pulled up.
'They're just going for a day at the beach,' I told myself, 'and
besides, there's sure to be a couple of patrol cars following
them.'


Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief a big Harley chopper
pulled up outside. 'Pot belly' dismounted and approached me. 'Oh
shit,' I thought, ' maybe the bus wasn't such a bad idea'.
"Hey! You own that"? Man Mountain said, jerking a thumb towards
my bike.


My red, white and green jacket had a 'Ducati' logo displayed on
the left breast. It wasn't a question it was a statement.
"Yes," I answered. 'Maybe I'll get off with an apology,' I
thought desperately. I couldn't see any cops, damn!
"You wanna swap"?
"Eh"? I answered in astonishment.


"Is it a Jaffa"? (Popular name for anything Japanese. A brand
name of an NZ candy)
"Italian."
"Fast, eh"?
By now I figured he wasn't going to beat me up so I grew in
confidence.


"Not bad."
"So, you wanna swap, That for my hog"?
"You couldn't handle it, mate. Too fast for you. Besides, there's
no room for the Missus."
"You can have her too, eh"?
"And where would you put the beer"?
"Yeah, good point."
At that he roared out laughing and returned to his hog.


I pulled up outside the address I was given. 'New Life Christian
Camp and Motel,' someone's made a mistake, I thought. I walked
into the office and the little bespectacled man assured me that
the cast was staying here.
"You're in room 5, over there," he said, pointing across the
courtyard. "And I like to remind you there's no alcohol
allowed."
"Right."
"And no smoking."
"Right."
"And lights out at eleven."
"Right."
"And no parties."
"Right."
"Enjoy your stay."
"Right.
"And god Bless."
"Right."


I found my room and dumped off my pack. The picture of Jesus on
the wall came down, I took out a can of beer from my pack and
rolled a cigarette. I pushed the bike around the back of the
block and hauled it onto the centre-stand. A flicker of movement
caught my eye and I quickly tossed the cigarette away.
"Have you been smoking"?
"No."
"I can smell it. About your bike, could you please ride it slowly
into camp"?
"Right."
"And keep the noise down."
"Right."


I'd had enough. I decided to go into town and wait until the bus
arrived. I was too conspicuous here.  I rode down to the beach
and spent the rest of the afternoon with the 'Magogs'.


They turned out to be a very hospitable bunch. I spent a pleasant
afternoon talking bikes and drinking beer until dinner.
Consequently I was a little 'happy' when I returned to the Motel.
The 'wheelie' past the office may have caught 'snoopy's'
attention or the donut outside the cabin. But it was the Show
Director who came to see me.


"Tone it down a bit, we got a cheap deal here, don't get us
thrown out."
"Right."
I took another beer from my pack and rolled another cigarette.
'Fuck them' I thought.


I was the only person that the show couldn't do without. I had no
understudy, I knew the show backwards and I could follow the
lighting plot in the dark. 


The next morning the crew and I were up at 5. We drove the truck
to the theatre and were in setting up by 6 am. Breakfast was
grabbed on the way. No one today believes me when I say we set up
in one day and had everything rigged and ready by 8pm that
evening, but we did it for every venue we played.


We first had to assess what equipment we could use in the
theatre. Most places had some lighting equipment and three-phase
power, which we had to have to run the board. For those that
didn't, we carried a three-phase adapter, lighting batons, bolts,
shackles, hoists and everything for every eventuality we could
imagine.


The first place was quite easy. It had a bit of equipment, like
hoists and batons so it was just a matter of rigging lights and
cabling them into the board. Two follow-spot towers had also to
be rigged but they were in the truck, all ready to bolt
together.


The work still took most of the day, a day of clambering along
batons like a monkey, plugging, bolting and taping cords
together. The footlights, with their coloured gels could be
plugged into the stage, but everything aloft had to be cabled
along the catwalks. The whole lot then had to be plugged into the
board in the right order using code tags I'd already done. 


By dinner I had 50 Pat. 22 200-watt spots, 6 'bins' and 2
Sellecon 2000-watt 'follows' all rigged and tested. The board was
all pre-programmed and the levels preset so I helped the boys
finish rigging scenery and repaired to the nearest pub for
dinner.


Unlike the stage crew, whose only job during the show was to
hoist scenery between scenes, all on 'block and tackles', the
lighting crew had to be on the job throughout. The board had to
be operated, my job, and the follow-spots worked to highlight the
main players.


After the show the bus made 2 trips. One for those wanting an
early night, and a late trip for those propping up the bar until
2 in the morning. I usually took the latter. That's when I got
talking to Claire.


She was tall and slim with long brown hair usually worn loose.
Like me she was training to be a Teacher, but unlike me, she
became one.


I'd seen her around before and had quite fancied her. I knew she
lived with her boyfriend so I'd always figured she wasn't in the
market. They lived with her parents in a kind of urban commune, a
relic from the sixties. Now, however, it was a just a big old
house in which 2 or 3 families lived in a community situation.
Kind of neat, I thought, if you like that sort of thing.


At some point Claire asked if she could go out riding with me and
at some point I agreed. We then sat together on the bus as we
headed back to camp.


Giggling like teenagers we all crept back into the camp, past the
locked barrier, shushing each other in ever-increasing volume.
The loudest, and most drunk was the Director, leaning heavily on
some young man from the cast whom he'd taken a fancy to.

Claire gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek before heading
off to her bunk. I fell heavily onto my bed and soon fell asleep,
still in my clothes.


I hit the road about 10 the next morning. I realized I had a
problem if Claire and I were going to go out riding. I only had
one helmet. I rode into town and found a bike shop, I needed a
bulb for the stoplight anyway, and bought a second hand helmet
for $40.


The afternoon was wonderful. Claire molded herself behind me like
a natural. We found some back roads and went exploring. She
particularly liked the feeling when I opened the Ducati out on a
nice straight.


A sports bike has a better power/ weight ratio than a Ferrari.
Only the better streamlining of the car allows it a higher top
speed. But at the end of the day, 250kph feels pretty much like
300. (250kph is around 165mph)


I looked behind at some stage and saw Claire smiling. She mouthed
'wow' at me and her face was flushed, her eyes excited.


We had to head back about 5. In time for dinner and the evening
show. The cast got costumed and made up at the camp because there
was more room than in the theatre. Claire's big part was in a
scene where they played strippers. They peeled down to their
underwear to an old 'bump and grind' number.


She was totally transformed with the sexy costume and the heavy
make-up. I'd seen her many times before but this time I got a
good eyeful close-up. I was chatting to her in the hall, which
was our changing room, when Pete, our stage manager came in.


"Fuck! That guy's a cunt, did you see him last night running
around the camp with a torch. He told me to put out my smoke.
Hey, James! Aw fuck, why don't you 2 get a room," he said
spotting us and coming over. Claire smiled in embarrassment and
slipped away. 


"Hey Don, where's the party after"?
"What's wrong with the pub, Pete."
"It closes at 11, it's Sunday."
"Shit! I don't know."
"Bugger! I guess we'll have to grab some beers and have it back
here."
"What about the camp Commandant"? I asked him.
"Snoopy? Fuck him!" he replied striding off.


The show went off without a hitch and we headed back to camp
straight after. Pete smuggled back a dozen 'browns' and we headed
for our room to drink them. Claire promised to join us later
after she had changed and taken off the stage make up.


True to her word she tapped lightly on the door and came in. We
had set up a torch to give us some light. Claire and I settled
down on my bed while Pete took a chair. 


Claire nestled close to me as we talked quietly and drank our
beer. Suddenly Pete whispered urgently,
"Torch!"


We switched off our light and lay still as the beam of the torch
played across the window, trying to peer in through the curtain.
Pete crawled back to his bed and lay still.


A key rattled in the lock and the door opened. A torch beam
stabbed the darkness and scanned the room. It settled on Claire
and me.
"Hey! What's going on here"? Came the voice of the campmanager.
Claire and I stayed still. 
"C'mon you two, get up."


A hand grabbed my shoulder and shook me. I sat up suddenly,
"Get your fucking hands off me," I said angrily.


The guy reeled back as if struck.
"There's no need..." he started to say.
"And get that fucking torch out of my eyes," I added.
"Now see here..."
"And what do you mean barging in here."
"I have every right..."


Meanwhile Pete had grabbed his Cricket bat, a keen cricketer he
always took it with him so he could practice.
"Fuck off or I'll shove this up your arse," he said advancing on
him.
"Now there's no need for that," said the guy backing towards the
door, "you've been drinking..." he said, stating the obvious.


Pete then shoved the guy out the door. He tripped on the step and
sat on his backside.
"I'll see your director...I'll have you thrown out..." He said,
retreating.


Claire and I decided we'd had enough. I rolled up my bedroll and
packed up. Behind the block was a hedgerow with a gate that led
out to a farmer's field. Across that field there was another gate
to a farm road that joined onto the main road.


The gate was unlocked and we opened it and pushed the bike
through. Together we pushed it across the field to the road.
There I started it and we headed off for the beach.


Eventually we found a spot in the dunes, well away from any
campers, and unrolled the sleeping bag. It was one of those bags
that can be unzipped into a double.


We settled down again, this time in our underwear and T-shirts.
The night was balmy with just a hint of a breeze. The breakers
rolled in from the South Pacific a little way off, booming and
crashing.
"Don," Claire said.
"Mmm"?
"You know I have a boyfriend"?
"Yes," I answered, "why"?
"Just making sure you knew."


With that settled, our faces nose to nose, with a shy smile she
puckered her lips and touched my face. I moved the short distance
and kissed her, lightly, but with mounting passion. Our bodies
were soon grinding together in the confines of the sleeping bag.
We pulled up her shirt so I could tongue and suck her tits. 


They were each a nice handful, her nipples were soon erect. Her
hands were inside my shirt as I pressed mine down inside her
panties, over her bottom. Her hand suddenly pulled down the front
of my underpants and grabed my stiff cock.
"Please, fuck me," she whispered.


She quickly shed her panties and I rolled on top of her. She
guided me in to her moist pussy and I began to stroke in and out.
She held me tight as I worked between her legs.
"Oh god...fuck me...faster...harder...oh...oh..." she gabbled in
my ear between moans. " So horny...oh god."


Urging me faster and faster I was soon hammering into her as fast
as I could go. With a sudden expulsion of air she started
grinding against me, grabbing my bottom with her hands and
pulling me in to her.
"OH...OOOHHH...GNNN...OOOHHH....
BABY...OOOOOOHHHHHH...OOOOOHHHHH."


Soon I'm blasting my hot jism deep into her,
"That's right... fill me...baby.... Ooh," she said squeezing the
cheeks of my ass.


Later, as we lay together cheek to cheek, listening to our
breathing, she said,
"Thank you Don, I needed that."
"My pleasure," I answered
"Let me know when you're ready to go again," she said turning her
back to me and wriggling her bottom against my prick.
"Sure," I answered, "I will."

























<1st attachment end>


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