Chinese Takeout Ch. 05

Past a couple of downtown exits. Now the traffic was lighter. Not many people heading out from downtown this early. I wondered where we were going but really, who cared. The ride was the thing. Just sitting behind Keith on his Harley, on the road, wind blowing my hair out behind me, holding onto him, the road unwinding in front of us. This was what I wanted and I'd never known it. Never imagined it before that first ride with Keith last weekend. Now? Now I couldn't imagine not having this. Not having Keith.

No cars ahead of us in the fast lane. Keith really opened her up. His Harley surged forward beneath me, I could hear the engine bellow, feel the engine's vibration through my seat, feel the power as we accelerated. Now we weren't just moving, we were flying, flashing by cars in the middle lane, the wind noise and the engine thunder half-deafening me, the Harley alive beneath me. It was hard to see now, my shades were pressing into my face, I had my eyes narrowed, the wind bringing tears and I didn't care as we followed the gentle curves, tore down the long straights trailed by that reverberating storm of noise. I loved this.

We were heading out of town, I knew. The freeway widened, no longer hemmed in by concrete walls. Broad grass verges now, spring flowers poking through the grass, the scent of fresh pine suddenly overwhelming everything as we passed a copse along the side of the freeway, last remnants of the countryside that this had been not too many years ago. The wind was cool and fresh but Keith's body sheltered me, only my face and my hands felt that morning chill, my back was warmed by the sun, my front warmed by Keith where I pressed up against him.

Up against his back, that powerful Harley engine vibrating the entire bike, throbbing, the growling thunder of the engine reverberating through me as I clung tightly to Keith, I just wanted to keep riding. I could ride with him like this for hours, enjoying the coolness of the morning, the road unwinding before us, the sheer exhilaration of experiencing everything around us. This wasn't enclosed, the way you were in a car. Caged in, protected from the elements, sitting in a bubble. This was out there, feeling everything, experiencing everything, inhaling the scent of everything the way it was, unfiltered, raw; real.

Too real now and then. I smelt skunk. Unfiltered, all too raw. Overpowering. That smell vanished in a few seconds, replaced once again by that wet grass and wet pine scent, so vivid it overwhelmed the smell of the car exhausts and the wafts of diesel from the occasional truck. I wanted Keith to keep riding but of course, we didn't. We slowed, slowed to what now seemed to be a crawl, easing off and into one of those new industrial suburbs built around what must once have been an old rural village on the outskirts of town.

Off some sort of main road onto a sidestreet, then another. Older buildings now, and then we were slowing, slowing and turning off the street into a parking lot in front of an old one story brick building looking like something from the nineteenth century. Old. Okay, I saw the sign as Keith parked his ride, this was Hardtails but there weren't any other clues. The engine died away, I slid off, unbuckled my helmet, grinning from the sheer happiness of that ride.

"That was awesome." I smiled as Keith took the helmet from me, hung it off one mirror.

He grinned right back as he swung himself off. He didn't need to say anything. He was happy I'd enjoyed the ride, I knew. His hand engulfed mine, he led me across the parking lot towards the doors. A couple of trucks parked outside and us. Whatever it was, busy it wasn't. Mind you, it was nine forty five on a Saturday morning. Speaking personally, this time Saturday I was usually still in bed asleep.

"What're we doing here?" I asked curiously as we walked inside. Wow. That smell. Leather and oil and a kind of metallic tang. I loved that smell.

He grinned at me. "Shopping."

Okay, I liked shopping too. Just, I had no idea what we were shopping for. The inside of the shop should give me a clue. I glanced around, blinking. It wasn't exactly brightly lit. What the heck? Armor? Leather armor and helmets? Swords? Shields? Was that a battle axe? What was Keith planning? A Lord of the Ring's reenactment or something? I mean, I liked Arwen in the movies but I didn't exactly see too many parts there for Chinese girls. Now if we were talking Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon or The House of Flying Daggers, that was another story. Not that I'd ever gone to kung fu classes, but there was Quebec's.

Keith chuckled. "Wrong side of the shop, Jay-Lin."

Well, so glad I was entertaining someone. I turned to face the other way. Now I giggled. Okay, this was making more sense. Leather jackets, gloves, jerkins, trousers, all sorts of motorcycle clothing. Helmets. Boots. Other stuff, I had no idea what they were. All sorts of things. Some kind of big leather bags? Whips. Huh?

I eyed him. He grinned. He was enjoying this, I could tell. Was I going to have to ask?

"Okay, I give up." I giggled. "What're we shopping for? Motorcycle stuff I guess?"

"Got it in one, sweetheart. You're gonna ride with me, you need a good leather jacket for starters, gloves, boots, your own helmet coz I sure don't want anything happening to that beautiful face." He smiled, gave me a quick kiss. "We'll get you some leather trousers as well. That'll do for now."

He didn't wait for me to say anything, he looked around, let me go, walked over to the old wooden counter, raised his voice. "Yo, Punch, where the fuck are ya, bro?"

"Hey, Round Out ... out the fuckin' back in the workshop, come right on through."

I followed Keith round an old wooden counter, through a bead-curtained door and into a large and cluttered looking workshop. Half a dozen older women were working on big old industrial looking sewing machines, a couple of guys were working at other tables, paper patterns on tanned hides, cutting knives working. Piles of leather sat in big bins down one side of the room. The smell of leather filled the air, made me want to rub my face in those piles and just breath in deeply. Somewhere, country music was playing in the background.

"This her?" The voice came from the other side of Keith. I peered around him, saw an older guy sitting at a workbench. Lined face, white hair, goatee and glasses.

"Yeah, this is her. Punch, meet my 'Ol Lady, Baby Blue. Blue, this is Punch."

"Hi Punch." I did my brightest smile.

"Huh." He looked over his glasses at me, ran his eyes up and down. "Take the jacket off."

Sociable old guy, wasn't he. Keith laughed. "He's always like this, Blue."

"Yeah," one of the women chipped in, "friendly old git."

Punch looked up, poker faced. "Sorry Blue, gotta measure you, nice to meet ya 'n all. Now take the jacket off."

I had to laugh even while I peeled my jacket off. Keith took it from me as Punch pulled out a tape measure from a pocket on the apron he wore. He was all over me with that tape, measuring, jotting down numbers.

"Punch does custom biker leathers," Keith explained. "Best you'll get, good as Langlitz, better than Fox Creek even." He grinned. "We won't talk about Dainese."

Never heard of any of them but what did I know. Nada.

"Don't mention that eye-talian stuff in my shop man," Punch grinned. "Anyhow, my leathers're better than Langlitz or Fox Creek ... In my honest opinion of course. Maybe not cheaper though, 'lessen you pay cash." Keith laughed. Punch didn't take his eyes away from the tape as he talked, still measuring, jotting down numbers. "Just, we don't do internet selling. Too much hassle with measurements and customers bitchin' and complainin'. You want our stuff, you gotta come here."

"Worth it," Keith said. "Best leathers you'll ever get."

"Yeah, well, speaking of best, Round Out, I know we were talking goatskin for her jacket, but how'd you like kangaroo hide, got a shipment in from Australia, wasn't expecting it for a few more weeks but it arrived yesterday."

"Kangaroo hide? What the fuck?" Keith raised one eyebrow.

Yeah, well, I was kinda thinking that WTF thing too. Kangaroos? They looked so cute.

"Toughest leather you'll get, far more abrasion resistant than steerhide, about ten times tougher for the same thickness as a matter of fact. Real flexible too, be way more comfortable for her to wear, helluva lot tougher if she ever really needs the protection 'n I can fit it with pockets for armor as well. Costs a bit more though."

Armor? Okay, I'd ask later.

Keith nodded. "Let's have a look then, not that I'd know the difference."

"Come on over." Punch led us over to one of the tables, a pile of hides sitting there. Thank god, they didn't look anything like kangaroos. "Feel it man, feel that quality. For the same thickness as steerhide, she's gonna get far more protection, far more comfortable to wear, feel how pliable that leather is."

Keith and I rolled it under our fingers. Soft and supple, really supple, far more than my one and only leather coat.

"Now compare it to this. These here hides are steerhides and the small ones over here are goat."

Keith and I looked at each other. Oh yeah, even I could tell the difference. Well, I kinda liked kangaroos, but I liked lambs too and I ate them. Same difference. And it wasn't like they were family. I guess it was bad luck for Skippy. Yeah, I saw the re-runs on PBS when I was younger.

"Whaddya think Jay-Lin?"

I looked at him a bit doubtfully. "I don't mind wearing it, Keith. Just, I really don't know anything about motorcycle jackets."

He smiled. "Well, if you don't mind wearing it, no problem." A quick glance at Punch. "Let's do the Kangaroo hide then, Punch, and inserts for the armor as well."

Punch grinned. "Good choice Round Out, if it was my 'Ol Lady, that's what I'd be picking."

One of the women at the sewing machines looked our way. "I'm taking you up on that, Punch."

He laughed, glanced at the clock on the wall. "For you, bro, I'll do this myself right now. I got her measurements, now, let's pick a pattern." Leading us back to a clear bench in one corner, Punch flipped open a binder. "Whaddaya say Round Out, for your 'ol Lady here, I'd recommend that classic ribbed style, zipped across like this, snap downs so the collar won't blow up in your face if you ride with it down." He smiled my way. "The style'll suit your looks girl, the collar's a snap down, comes with a removable vest liner, zips on the wrists and hips and there's two inside pockets, four outside. Whaddaya say?"

I glanced at Keith. "I like the style." I did. It looked exactly like what I'd pick myself.

Keith nodded. "So do I, let's do that one then Punch." His arm slid round my shoulder, held me close. I reached up to rest one hand on his.

"Right you are bro." Punch grinned. "Lemme pick the hides and get the pattern down and I'll get started. You wanna watch for a while Blue, Round Out, you're welcome."

"Can we?" I asked Keith. I'd never seen anyone make any clothes before. And this was going to be my jacket.

"Sure baby."

Punch was already moving back to that pile of kangaroo hides, sorting through them, pulling one out, then another, discarding one here, picking another there. "Making sure the hides we're gonna use 're the same hues and texture so all the sections of the jacket match up. Need a few, there's over fifty pieces to each jacket, we gotta cut around any imperfections, choose the strongest pieces, takes a few hides for each jacket." He smiled at me now. "These just came in, like I said. You're getting the best ones here, Blue."

He was already laying the hides he'd selected out on a large clear bench, positioning the pieces of the pattern on the leather. I watched, fascinated, as he pulled a knife from a sheath on his belt. Without looking up, he called out, "Hey, Angela, you mind punching the pocket flaps and trim for me? You can use this one." He picked up a hide, handed it to one of the ladies who'd been working on one of those big old sewing machines. Pffaf, That was the name on those machines. They looked old. Old and tough.

Within fifteen minutes he had all the pieces cut, knife flashing, no hesitation. You could see he knew what he was doing. He started to trim here and there. "Customizing it for ya," he said, not taking his eyes from the leather. One of the other men looked up from his bench. "Want me to do the liner, Punch"

"Yeah, thanks Joe."

Joe was already moving, another long bench with a large roll of quilted material mounted at one end, pulling on the roll, laying the fabric out flat, placing another series of patterns on top of the fabric, pinning it down. Joe's cutting knife flashed now, more pieces of fabric taking on specific shapes. In no more than a few minutes, he was done, taking the pieces he'd cut and handing them to Angela, all without a word.

"He's giving 'ya the royal treatment here, Blue," one of the other ladies looked up, smiling at me and Keith. "There's customized, then there's customized by Punch."

Punch chuckled. "No shit. Now we're gonna chop the pockets in." He took a couple of the pieces over to a die press, slid them under, positioned them, stamped down under a hydraulic blade and zap, cut small pieces out one after the other, then tossed the piece he'd finished with to another of the women. She took them without a word, put them on her work bench, pulled out a tube of adhesive and a hammer, started turning back edges around the pocket slot and gluing them down, pressing and tapping them with the hammer. "Pocket edges," she said, seeing me watching.

Angela was sewing now, sewing zippers onto the pockets she was making, fingers flashing as she guided the leather under the sewing machine, then taking the panels from the other lady, sewing the pockets on. Less than half an hour and my jacket was already taking shape.

Punch looked up. "Hey, it's all sewing and trimming now, you guys go grab a coffee or look around the shop or something and come back in an hour, it'll be ready for a final fitting, we'll adjust it right then if we need too, finish it off and she'll be good to go."

"Punch, you're the man." Keith gave him one of those hugs.

Punch laughed, slapped his back. "Round Out, bro, it's for you man, for anyone else it'd be a four to six week wait, so get your asses out of here, go grab that fuckin' coffee and leave me the fuck alone to get this done before someone else comes in and bitches at me about why their fuckin' jacket's late, 'kay."

"We're gone, bro." Keith took my hand, led me out into the shop. "Coffee shop's next door," he said, "but before we grab one, let's see about getting you some gloves 'n trousers 'n boots 'n a helmet."

"Okay." This sounded like fun. I had my purse with me, I pulled it out. Better check I had my credit card. Yep, there it was. I wondered how much it would cost. I knew I still had most of this quarter's clothing allowance from Mom. Fifteen hundred. That should cover everything.

Keith's hand closed over mine. "Put it away sweetheart, you're not paying for a thing."

"Keith, it's ...," I looked at him, looked at his face. Knew right away I wasn't going to win this one. "Okay." Zipped my purse back inside my jacket.

"Good girl." He gave me that smile again. "When you're with me, you don't pay for anything, okay, Jay-Lin. You're my 'Ol Lady, I take care of you. Got it?"

"It's not like I can't afford it," I said. "My parents give me an allowance."

"Got it?" he said. Okay, I already knew that look.

"Got it." No point in arguing when I knew I was going to lose.

Now he gave me that big warm smile, the one that made me shiver all the way down to my toes. "I'd have to spank you if you didn't," he said, his voice low, rumbling. Doing things to me.

Oh god. I wasn't just shivering. I was melting. Keith. Spanking me. I chewed on my bottom lip. "Really?" I eyed him, my heart pounding. I looked around. No-one else in the shop. I went up on my tiptoes, arms around his neck, mouth searching for his, finding, kissing him hard, my tongue taking the initiative, sliding into his mouth, tasting him, flirting with him, sucking hard, dragging his tongue into my mouth, moaning as he took control. Moaning as he kissed me back hard, his hands on my butt, holding me up; pulling me firmly against him. We were both panting when our lips parted. Something else was hard as well.

I moved against him. Just checking, you understand. Smiled at the look on his face. "So spank me when we get back to your place," I breathed, nibbling on his neck.

He looked at me, but now it wasn't a gentle and tender look. It was a fiercely possessive look, a look that said he wanted me, wanted me very much. A look that turned my knees to jelly so that I hung on his hands where he held me, my head resting against his shoulder, my body pressed against his. All his. I was all his. "Keith, I'm yours." I had to put it into words, even if they were whispered. "I'm all yours."

I looked up at him, looked up into those beautiful blue eyes. So different from mine. Round and blue, as blue as the sky on a clear spring morning. "I love you."

His look was gentle again, as tender as his hand that now stroked my head, my hair, my cheek. "I love you, Jay-Lin, little darling." He kissed me again, a long long kiss that left me breathless, left me hungry for more. Left me happy.

His hand patted my butt. "Shopping, Jay-Lin."

"Okay." Content for now, I slid away from him. "What do I need?"

We spent the next ten minutes picking motorcycle gloves. Keith knew what he wanted for me right from the start, a beautiful pair of black kangaroo and stingray hide gloves that Hardtails made. They fit perfectly. I didn't like the cost though. Two hundred fifty bucks? For gloves?

"They're too expensive, Keith. And what's so special about stingray?" I went to put them back.

Keith took them out of my hands. Took my hand in his, lifted it to his lips, kissed my fingers. "Baby, you've never seen what happens when you come off your ride and slide down the road. I don't plan on that happening, but if it ever does I want you wearing the best protection there is. And stingray's about five times more resistant than that kangaroo hide. We come off, your hands won't be skinned." He grinned. "Besides, these are what I wear and you're not getting anything that's not as good as mine."

"Honest? You're not feeding me a line? I mean, they're, like, really expensive."

"Baby, the last thing I'm worrying about is how much they cost, okay? Just go with me here sweetheart, I know riding, 'kay?"

I thought about that for a moment. That building he owned. His loft. Yeah, Keith wasn't worrying. And he knew motorcycles. And I trusted him. Totally. "Okay, just don't, you know, waste money, okay. I love you Keith, you don't need to buy me expensive stuff just because it's expensive." Now I smiled, poked a finger at his chest. "You okay with that, Mr.?"

He grinned. "Got it." We smiled at each other. Smiled and smiled. His eyes. Oh god, his eyes. His face. I reached up, stroked his cheek, his strong jaw. His bristles.

"Did you shave this morning?" Now I was curious.

He laughed. "Yeah. If I hadn't, you'd know. Now let's go find a helmet."

"Okay." I followed him across the shop to the racks of helmets. Looked at them. "You better pick Keith, really."

He laughed. "No problem. You're getting a full face helmet for starters, Bell Vortex if we can find one that fits."

We did, after I'd tried on about six. I loved it. It was black, it'd been decorated. Motorhead in gothic letters on top, these awful fang things along the jawpiece. "That's it," I just about squealed after I peeled it off. "This one."

Keith put it on the counter with my gloves. "Boots next."