The brakes to this bike seem to be tied to the steering column. We slow down to turn left onto a unmaintentanced dirt road lined thickly with mangrove trees. Sesses shoulders drop and inch or two with the reduction in speed. The bike lowers again and the wheels extend to their full width. We are going about twenty five miles an hour. Sesse looks back for the second time on our ride. "Unless you have thighs of steel, you might want to buckle up real soon." I feel for a safety belt but can't find one. A raised rough surface is found on the left sides of my seat. I press this area with my extended fingers and the textured panel slides back to reveal the seat belt. Another identical belt rises from underneath my crotch and I am reminded of Conan O’Brien’s Cobra skit:
When you think you're grabbing your sssseatbelt on the futurissstic motorcccycle you will really be grabbing MEEEEEEEEE! I can't help but chuckle
. I pull the first belt over my waist, plugging into a smooth hole on the other side. The cobra belt connects with some sort of magnetism to the center of the waist belt. I am strapped in now and in no way ready for the road ahead of us. I am not surprised that she doesn't put a belt on herself. We resume our normal speeds and catch a rise every three to four seconds lifting the bike through the air like a flying fish. Sesse drives with amazing skill and grace. The high speeds no longer frighten me but the soaring several feet through the air has my stomach in sailors’ knots. I close my eyes and the sensation of height increases so I open them right away. The rush of the wind is loud in my ears but I can faintly hear the sound of Sesses laughter whizzing by my head. She loves every second of this ride. The mangrove trees are so dense that I can't see anything else past them. A few of the times we lifted at least twelve feet in the air allowing my eyes to search the horizon. I saw nothing but the evening sky and mangrove trees. Sesse eventually slows the bike and brings the wheels together completely. We turn onto a narrow, hard-packed paved dirt road that is as straight as an arrow. Sesse's body now lies on top of the bike as she lays down the throttle as far as it will go. I grab her waist and lean behind her small frame as best as possible. Our speed is ridiculous. I could say we were going over two hundred miles an hour but I don't really know. The machines engine has to be laid out to maximum performance though the bumblebee purring sound doesn't increase. Sesses right thumb flips open a red plastic square below her gearshift and the bike lurches forward to even greater speeds. The engines labor is louder now. This must be an overdrive or nitrous gas propelling us to such a limitless velocity. We stay at this breakneck speed for a minute or so before slowly returning to what I thought was the bikes redline. Sesse reduces the speed in quarters and I see a large beach house growing in front of us. She parks the bike underneath the house between two support stilts. The belts release automatically when she touches her gloved index fingers to each palm. I crawl off and slide onto the sandy ground. Sesse only looks down at me. "You know you loved that shit!"
"It was my first time. Give me a couple tries to get used to going two hundred miles an hour and we will talk."
"Our average speed was around two hundred. On the long stretch we hit four eighteen! Even with your kadunkadunk on board that was a record for me." She smiles that huge toothy smile.
"Oh, only four hundred huh?" I exhale. "Next time you should shoot for five."
"I like the way you think JBee. If I can manage living without my bike for a week more, I just might upgrade."
"I was joking. I think you are absolutely nuts driving that fast!"
"You wanted it, I got it."
"Shut up,” I tell her as she walks towards a staircase that slowly descends from the center of the beach house floor.
Entering the house from the floor feels like being beamed up inside the mother ship. The interior design is of this world amazing. The decor is not fashioned with Pier One pelicans and starboard side chandeliers. Very clean lines, strong colors and gorgeous, soft light define the house. Darker hues share space with tones of white and black harmoniously. Expensive yet discreet electronics are tucked in every nook and cranny but do not make the place look like a Radioshack sales floor. Exotic plants are flourishing throughout the main living room area. The actual shape of the house is of a tiered octagon. A first look brings thoughts of a huge sleeping Shoji birthday cake come to life. Each floor of the house is covered by an overhanging circular roof and is smaller than the one below. Also, each floor is more naturally illuminated than the one below it. The center square of the structure is completely open throughout the bottom two levels. The top floor is made of Plexiglas glass providing sunlight to shine down through the large windows that line the walls of the observatory room above. Looking up to the top I feel as if I am on a rainforest floor seeing the sun trying to penetrate through the dense plant life. I love this house.
"Make yourself at home. The TV remote is inside that tiger striped rock beside you. If you are hungry, the kitchen is behind the green door." Sesse steps around an open red door.
"I don't watch much TV." I direct my voice towards the room she disappeared into.
"What?" A muffled voice asks.
"Never mind!" I half-heartedly reply.
"Sometimes on the weekends, sure why not. It just depends on how drunk I am." Sesse yells from the room.
I hear her turning on the shower. Laughing at her comment, I walk through the green doorway. The kitchen is mostly covered in brushed stainless steel and copper. Black slate snakes through these metals cutting a dark path through the floors, appliances and counters. The exterior glass wall gives view to the oceanside scenery. I open the refrigerator and find a bottle of something dark. It looks like beer so I twist it open. The flavor of this drink is a mixture of Red Stripe, Newcastle, and something like a mandarin orange. I drink the entire bottle while standing inside the open door. Once finished, I grab another beer, close the door and set the empty bottle on top of the counter next to the steel sink. There are no decorations in the kitchen other than the design itself. After walking around touching the different surfaces I return to the livelier center room. I don't hear the water running anymore.
"Hey, I grabbed a beer, or two” I announce. "Sesse?" No response. I walk to the sectional couch in the center of the room. I finish my second beer while trying out the massage features of the recliner section. Awesome fucking chair man. I lay back, enjoying the vibrating massage, and let my eyelids fall.
I am walking through the ghetto mall by my house in Texas. This isn't the mall I prefer to go to but I end up going to most of the time because of location. Location plus the Greek Goddess that is working at the ice cream stand 90 percent of the time helps my choice in malls. If it is not the Greek Goddess working then it will be the cute freckle-faced red-headed depression-era chick. These women are the only reason I buy four dollar ice cream cones every time I go to the ghetto mall. Whoever owns that shop really knows what they are doing too as I doubt I am the only single guy stunned into a creamy purchase. I walk the same path: through the food court past the ice cream stand to the game store, down the stairs to the game store directly below, right over to the surf shop then back up the escalator to pass by the ice cream stand as I make my way to the alternative clothing/music shop towards the other end of the mall. From there, depending on if I have money in my pocket, I pass the ice cream stand once more as I make my way to the larger department store to check for sales. The ice cream stand happens to be right in the middle of the main walkway- I am not stalking. I told you. The owner knew what he was doing. I don't find any money in my pocket. I guess I will leave. Window shopping holds my interest for about three seconds: just long enough to be pissed that I can't afford the item I am looking at. I head back past the ice cream stand and almost stop to talk to Greek Goddess but don't. She is too beautiful to talk to and I am left a stammering mess. Next time Ice Cream Goddess! You, me, a few cones and some strawberry ice cream. See ya round. I walk by the alternatrendy store and take a left towards the exit doors. As always, I admire the jewelry on the left, and then silently judge the haircuts on the right. Last but never least, I wonder why they took out the pet store and replaced it with a tuxedo rental shop that never has any customers. I walk through the double doors and find that the outside parking lot is gone. Burned cars and bodies litter the place where the parking lot used to be. I walk quickly back towards the mall doors. They won’t open. My shoes are full of sand. The ice cream girl stands on the other side of the doors naked and beckoning me towards her ice cream covered body. I look up at the sky and see a dark cloud swirling above me. A booming voice fills the sky "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey."
"Wake up." Sesse says to me as I open my eyes. "You realize that you drank a twenty percent by volume beer? No, you drank two of them." She offers me a large glass of water. I groggily wave it away. "They weren't ready for taste testing just yet." Sesse drinks the water in a matter of two seconds. "You were out for two hours. I was about to pour this water on your head."
"Thanks for not pouring it on my head. My dream was already going south."
"What was your dream about? Was it about me? People are always telling me that after meeting me the have the craziest dreams about me."
"Ditto. No, it wasn't about you Miss Thang. It was nothing. Just walking through the mall by my house."
"OK fine. I won't act jealous after being left out of your sex dream. Just don't forget about me." Before I can deny her accusations she flicks the support pole of my pitched tent. I don't feel like explaining my dream to her. My head is still a little foggy.
"The beer was really, really good Sesse. I think you could sell that stuff easy. Do you make a lot of kick-your-ass alcoholic beverages? Is it a hobby or something?"
"I do a little of everything."
"Well, I am impressed."
"Thanks Buzz Lightweight." She hands me some of the birthday cake bread we bought earlier this afternoon and I scarf it down. I feel better with every bite.
"Hey, I just remembered something I wanted to ask you."
"Shoot” She says. I'm still lying back in the lazy boy with my eyes closed.
"Why didn't I understand anyone when I first got here? What was up with the sand?"
"I can assume the sand was brought from your world. It was something that was not supposed to travel with you, unlike the shell and rope. Those two items are keeping you tied to the memory of the world you left. Without them you might be stuck here forever. The sand was acting like static between worlds, keeping you from being here completely. When I first saw you I thought I was only daydreaming. You were as transparent as a ghost."
"So if I lose the rope or shell?"
"I don't know JBee. I am trying to understand why you have two signets in the first place. Most people only bring one. Does the shell or rope mean anything at all to you?"
"Not that I can remember."
"That’s Okay. As long as you keep them, we will figure it all out in due time. You can leave the shell here if you like for safe keeping. I don't want it getting broken. Let me tie the rope around your wrist." She double knots the rope around my right wrist. "I think having one in your possession is good enough."
"Where is your signet Sesse?"
"I am in my world. I don’t actually have one unless I leave it. What you saw everyone wearing at the celebration was a representation of our individual signets."
"So you carry around a pair of eyeballs when you visit other worlds?" I ask, half laughing.
"I haven't been to other worlds yet so I really can't answer that question. My dreams tell me that eyes are my signet. I could be wrong."
"Are you sure you haven't ever been away? Maybe you though it was a dream? I did at first."
"I don't know Mr. Questions. I don't know." Sesse grabs a white jacket lined with wool and fur inside the hood from a closet nearby. The jacket looks thin but warm. She tosses me a larger black coat that reminds me of something L.L. Bean might catalog in The Matrix.
"So I guess we are going somewhere cold?"
"You guessed right my friend. Your prize for giving the right answer is the luxurious opportunity to carry my jacket and this lllllovely box! I hope it is everything you wished it to be." She spanks me on the rear after emptying her hands. "Let’s go."
We make our way down the stairs and back out to the sandy carport. There is a black jaguar parked to the left of us. The bike is now covered in a metallic tarp. It sits in the corner underneath where the kitchen would be.
"Bike or Jag?" I ask. Sesse smiles and purrs in my ear. "Jaguar it is then."
The doors pop open and smoothly rise as we approach the car. Lamborghini doors and everything. This is my dream car. Will I ever get used to this? I sit down into the passenger seat and adjust the seat levers. I don't think it has ever been sat in before now. Everything is in perfect showroom condition.
"Where did you get this car Sesse?"
"It was a gift."
"Helluva gift."
"I agree. Buckle up."
The doors lower and lock on their own. The nearly opaque tint of the windshield lightens to the view of the dunes in front of the house and she throws it in reverse. The Jaguar hits the driveway at a forty degree angle and Sesse corrects the steering as easily as an old Indy driver. We are going pretty fast but nothing out of this world. Ninety six, ninety seven, ninety eight. After going four hundred this feels like a crawling pace. Sesse presses a blue light on the steering wheel and music begins playing from all directions. It sounds like the equivalent of a two hundred thousand dollar system in my world. I assume the usual position in the passenger seat: laid back and staring out my side window.
