Kevin arrived at the red light on the other side of the square. The bar was facing him. Hence it was, he could see the bikes and his friends Lynn and her friends. He mentally calculated that if it starts faster than everybody the green light, which is a breeze for a machine like his, he would have time to pass before the second light orange and raise the second rather high in the towers for them to watch happen. He had absolutely captivate the attention of the whole terrace bar. If only to erase the insult he had suffered on the hill a few minutes earlier.
The light turned green and Kevin threw his machine he spent the second to 9000 rpm and slows down by cutting the gas and letting the exhaust roar. A beautiful deceleration in a lot of noise made him turn the heads of people seated as he had expected. He cut off two lanes of traffic which provoked a chorus of alarm that caused her to turn everyone on the terrace. The goal was reached, the whole place had eyes for him. He slid stalled in giving a few strokes of gas. It stands the bike by cutting the contact once he put away the cob alongside other bikes.
He got out of his machine and calmly took his helmet. Then he looked across the terrace, pretending to look for light that he had seen since the fire on the other side of the square. That he would find among thousands in the dark: Lynn. He noticed that a helmet was lying at his feet. She was waiting with a big smile. He approached the table cleared the air as possible under the prying eyes of birds of vintage stethoscope that microscope novelty which Lynn had spoken to them, revealing few details, the little she remembered, inventing others when the question was a detail buried in an area of the brain formatted by alcohol.
Approaching the table, Lynn got up, crossed her arms around his neck, kissed and made presentations. Around the table were Chris aka Criss, Michelle, Anna aka Anna. All three worked in the same institute as Lynn.
- Kevin works for the channel Home Video. He often goes to Paris to select movies. Said Lynn leaving in that he often met the producers and stars at fairs video.
A touch of jealousy mingled with envy was kindled in the eyes of other girls. Lynn had to score a point to Kevin.
Kevin presented a few friends and their mounts.
Ludo, the owner of the Vmax was all manias barber frustrated: he kept moving his hand through his hair. Anna, who had already started bombing Kevin Jean Reno questions about a greedy seemed to have had a raging fever when she was little. Given his boundless energy, the fever was gone, but the horse had to stay if he's referring to the length of his incisors. Michel
its brewing up a black eye and a Hayabusa on the other, the curves of Michelle, wore large round glasses and appeared to be the result of the guilty love of Guido and Brasletti M'oiselle Jeanne. Kevin was eager to see the spectacle of Michelle on the seat of the Suzuki. Michelle Small, red and rather plump hips showed that Renoir would not have denied but which designers Hammamatsu surely had not imagined that the loop back of the Japanese falcon can accommodate such a sitting posture.
Philip, the intellectual of the band, owner of the KTM, walking his large physical and thin air disillusioned and full of languid nonchalance of one who came back from everything and brought back the secret mysteries of existence subjugating Criss, rather pretty, blonde and a bit shy, she brooded literally look as if the eighth wonder of the world and has nodded his every word as if to emphasize its importance.
To break the ice in front of a little hesitant silence that followed the presentations, Kevin decided to offer a tour to the table. The girls chose a beautiful set with a Diet Coke and men more manly drinks. Black Jack for Kevin, a White Russian Ludo (he drank more than that since he had seen The Big Liebowsky), Philippe turned al'absinthe, the green fairy of Parisian intellectuals of the Roaring Twenties and Michel swore by the shooters that night was: Cucaracha, the mixture of kahlua and Mexican tequila served flaming.
Kevin sat next to Lynn. Alcohol, motor-drenched horses, guys desperate to impress their girlfriends and a bunch of onlookers enjoying a balmy summer evening. All the ingredients were to set fire to the asphalt. The Western could begin.
After ten minutes of small talk, Kevin had clearly felt that everyone wanted someone gives the signal for departure.
- We will ride a little? Kevin suggested.
- Ouiiii! Lynn responded by jumping up.
The men ended their ass glasses dry, and leaped as if the challenge and the girls gathered their belongings. They went to their horses their helmets in hand as cowboys carrying their saddles. It lacked the atmosphere that the plaintive wail of the harmonica with Charles Bronson.
Kevin made his engine roar as Lynn pulled on his helmet. Great difficulty returning to his long blond curls under the cap. Once the chin adjusted, it was necessary that Kevin gets involved if they spent the night she got on the motorbike and clung to him, saying
- Go slowly for the first time that I mount such a big gear.
Kevin nodded and set in motion the first. Lynn has clung to him a little more. Put his arms around her waist and placed her hands on the tank. Kevin could feel her breasts on her back and her thighs pressed against him.
- It is a burning hut was fried. He thinks.
The evening and especially at night promised to be scorching. He screwed the handle right and kawa rushed forward. Show before!
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