The Great Cleanup - стр. 9
Yet Anna did not ask Herman anything. Her neck started to hurt and get numb, so she turned her head back to its natural position, looking at the road right before her and immediately becoming horrified. She did like the racer on the photo, but she never rode an actual motorcycle before. When she was not yet married, she refused guys who offered her rides. This contraption, normally driven by reckless youngsters who would periodically break their arms and legs, ending up walking around on crutches or even staying in bed in plaster casts for quite some time, never seemed reliable to her. So Anna never got further than some photo shoots in the saddle of a stationary motorbike. But now…
They have now left the normal city streets and were racing down a highway at an unbelievable speed, overtaking cars with ease. Anna kept closing her eyes tight, expecting the motorcycle to crash into a truck or van: “Now… no, right now!” Yet by some miracle she and Herman would slip through tiny openings between cars, dodging little bumpers and huge bumpers, trailers, flatbeds. The cars that they left behind kept beeping and flashing their lights, but her saviour did not mind this at all, he just raced and raced the motorcycle forward.
Anna turned her head again to say something to Herman after all, but he anticipated her question again:
“I know you love the bikes. I would never trust anyone with my steel horse, but you're fine. So, all right, here you are!”
He took her left palm, placing it on the left handle of the bar. Then he put her right palm on the right handle. And the next moment he withdrew his own hands from the handle-bar, lightly hugging Anna's waist:
“You're on your own now, enjoy!”
Anna was horrified even more. The hard shiny road was dashing at her. Nearby cars still remained behind swiftly. The motor of the bike was roaring. The wind kept hitting at her face, leaving her eyes in tears. Her breath kept running away after it. It was all awful… awfully gratifying! The old song, “Highway Star”, seemed to play in her ears.
Anna used to listen to that song pretty often, as she looked at the pictures of Deep Purple and of that motorcyclist on her wall. Ah, how she used to dream, imagining herself blazing along the highway with him!
Later, when she moved out of her parents' home, rock music fell by the wayside. But now it was certainly the “Highway Star” ringing in her ears, roaring, tearing at the muscle of her very heart. How could she forget there was a song like this? Why did she not know that, along with it, one could really break the speed of sound?
Dizzy with the swift pace, Anna drove on for some time before finally noticing that cars ceased to beep and flash their lights. A few side glances revealed that the drivers' wide-eyed gazes were glued to her. “Probably there are few girls who can drive a motorcycle like I do,” she thought, before lowering her eyes and seeing the true reason for her current highway stardom.
The flaps of her dressing-gown were fluttering in the powerful headwind, revealing her thighs all the way to the well-worn yellow panties. The blue gown came undone at the breast, too, proudly showing off the unwieldy beige bra, intended strictly for home wearing only, to all and sundry. The belt stayed tied, the only reason preventing the fluffy garment from leaving its wearer entirely.