4 wheels good, 2 wheels better

It was her secret, her pride and joy, hidden beneath the apartment block snug between a Mercedes and BMW. It was so unlike her, so dark, so powerful, so raw, the machine was lethal. It was true she was a fairweather rider but when she was on there was no stopping her – she could smoke almost anything on the road and wouldn't hesitate if it took her fancy.

The day he came roaring across the parking lot his new Fireblade she was worried but couldn't help smile inside – it was another reveal that just made him even more appealing. It was so unlike him, the orange Repsol graphics, orange wheels and chrome exhaust; bright, colourful, gaudy. She even had one just like it but some architect was willing to pay a fortune for it – 'he wouldn't last a week' she thought at the time. Of course, after the initial flutter at the sight of the bike, the panic that he could hurt himself on this machine made her feel ill. He was reckless and impulsive and with a 1000cc superbike at his fingertips it could only end up in disaster.

It was a clear night, a crisp breeze, and dry road – perfect. She had two sets of riding clothes - a matching trousers and jacket set, quite baggy that would easily slip on over whatever outfit she had on that day. Then there was her real riding suit – a black leather one-piece, with a thin metal zip and studs snaking in an S-shape from her right hip to left shoulder, snug but not too tight. Matching riding boots and gloves made it her secret favourite outfit in her wardrobe, and she knew how good it looked – all that time at the gym was far from wasted. Dressed and helmet in hand she made her way down to the garage and soon was enjoying the cool breeze at a much quicker pace.

Making his way home that night, he sat at the traffic lights impatiently, revving the engine of his Honda – much to the irritation of the driver behind him. A single white light caught his eye and he watched as it snaked around the car behind him and pulled up to the line – his jaw dropped. It was difficult to pick which was more appealing – the metallic midnight blue Fazer, quite possibly the more aggressive looking bike he had ever seen (it was this or the Honda – what could he do, the orange was too much to resist) or it's rider – whose leathers made no effort to hide the slender yet shapely body beneath them. He couldn't mask the look on his face, envy, awe, lust?!

A quick sideways glance through her tinted visor confirmed what she already new – she was only feet from House on his bike, and he had stopped revving at the sight of her, shame. Anticipating the light change she gave one huge rev of the bike before the green light – then she was off! A glance in her wing mirror made her grin, he was after her! In a matter of seconds they were at 70, then approaching 100 she new there was a turn up ahead, just as well she could handle this machine like a dream, maybe she would test him and see what he could do. Knowing he would take the classic racing approach and lay the bike down on it's side she decided to show off a little...

He was mesmerised by this woman on the bike, giving him and his Honda a serious run for their money, approaching the tight corner he began to slow down and shift his weight to the side, narrowly missing grazing the ground with his good knee, what nearly threw him was the Fazer-riders next trick, a huge broadside round the corner – it was almost moving sideways round the corner losing almost no speed before she was off again down the straight, leaving the smell of burning rubber for him to run right into. This woman was intoxicating, he had no idea who she was and yet was chasing her through the streets like a schoolboy chasing an ice cream truck, he wanted it so much he just couldn't help himself.

The chase continued for another few miles before he noticed he had more or less travelled in a huge circle and was back on route for his apartment, it had crossed his mind that he was starting to stalk this chick but the stunts she was pulling told him she was enjoying it, must be psychic that she was going the right way. Cameron decided she'd had enough, she would 'drop him off' then head home for the night, having satisfied herself that when it came to 2 wheels, she could take him anytime. Approaching his apartment, she slowed down until she was perched just outside, waiting for him to catch up, makes a change from her chasing him down a hallway.

This is too weird he though, but pulled up onto the kerb anyway and killed the engine before removing his helmet, and cane and walking over to the Fazer.

"Impressive" He wasn't just referring to her riding, now he was off the bike he had the chance to get a good ogle at her leather clad body – snug, not to tight, and he was sure those studs would allow for very quick access – maybe she didn't have anything on undernearth – his mind was clearly starting to get carried away!

"Thank You, It's been awhile too" Her voice came muffled from behind the heavy helmet.

"We could switch next time, maybe you won't win so easily"

"Next time implies I will give you another chance"

"You could at least give me time to practice, and I think you enjoy a bit of competition. Not going to take the helmet off?"

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This is my first fic, I have more ideas to continue this story – could become a competition, could become a secret-friendship, could easily become smut! (I'm sure you could imagine the lines of this one)

Please review and let me know a) b) c) – or d) Just quit, we've had enough of your motorbike story!

Thanks