Georgina grabbed the Vixen rider by the neck and pressed the point of her knife into her back. Not enough to cause damage, but enough to break the skin and dissuade the girl from struggling.
She'd been waiting a long time to say this.
"I need your clothes, your boots and your motorcycle."
The girl twisted round very slightly in George's grip, then thought better of it as the knifepoint dug further into her back.
"My what, Ma'am?"
"Motorcycle. From the movie, for God's sake. And don't call me Ma'am. I work for a living."
"What's a motorcycle?"
George laughed. "Girlie, you haven't lived. It's freedom on two wheels. The wind in your hair. The open road. Four-stroke thunder pulsing between your legs-"
"Oh," the girl gasped. "One of those!" I saw one in a museum once- "
I'm going to kill her, George thought. I really am.
"OK, just the boots then." She sniffed the air. "What's that fragrance? You wearing perfume?"
The girl coughed in embarrassment. "Foot lotion. My Mum sends it regularly. She says it stops blisters."
"Your mother is a very wise woman," Georgina whispered as she swung her leg over the hoverbike, clutching the girl's boots and resisting the urge to stick her face in the tops and inhale deeply. Body-warmed leather and a top-note of meadow flowers...she could hardly wait.
She swung the bike round. The thing whirred softly into life; it was like a hairdryer compared to the throaty roar of her old Laverda Jota, but it would get her home.
A final thought occurred to her. "Your life must be worth a couple of bottles of that lotion. I'll expect to see them here when I return tomorrow.
I might even give you this POS back again."
( to be continued )
