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Tina II chapter eight- Somewhere- A Gray Muzzle story

"There's a place for us.

Somewhere, a place for us.

Peace and quiet and open air

Wait for us

Somewhere

There's a time for us.

Some day, a time for us

Time together with time to spare

Time to look, time to spare

Someday

Somewhere

We'll find a new way of living

We'll find a way of forgiving

Somewhere.

There's a place for us

A time and a place for us.

Hold my hand, and we're halfway there.

Hold my hand, and I'll take you there.

Somehow.

Someday.

Somewhere.

"Somewhere"

"West Side Story"

"When I first saw you in the recovery room, well, I never saw anything so white in my life. If I didn't know better, I'd have sworn you were dead. Then I took your hand, and you opened your eyes. Do you know the first thing you said?"

"Just shoot me."

"Exactly! That's exactly what you said. I knew you were going to be all right, because you still had your sense of humor...."

Violet rolled her eyes, and went back to her exercise.

Violet and Koji were back from France. Not long after she had gotten pregnant, they were going out to breakfast with a friend, when Violet's appendix burst. She was in a bad way for some time, but Koji's quick thinking, and Violet's condition and toughness got her through. She was in the hospital for several weeks; when she got out, it was time for their return to New York City. To stay busy, Koji had done all the packing. Still, Violet had little chance to say goodbye to friends and neighbors, for Koji's work required that they return immediately.

Violet stretched in front of the ceiling high window of their third floor loft in the SoHo section of Manhatten. Even though she was plainly visible through the window, Violet did not seem to care. She sat on the floor, arched over, pulling on her toes. At four foot ten, Violet is a tiny hybrid, but strong, and muscular. Her body lean and chiseled, except, of course the melon sized bulge of her pregnant belly, which touched the floor as she stretched. Years of pulling sleds in Alaska had mad her a formidable physical specimen. When she left sled racing, she worked as an exotic dancer. In more recent years, she taught aerobics, and had recently started to get into mixed martial arts.

With a final stretch, Violet got up, and walked to the refrigerator for water. Her fur, white as could be glistened with sweat. Her once buzz cut hair was longer now, but still in the characteristic Violet color, as were the poms on her wrists and ankles. Violet's tail was long, unusual for a Poodle. Sledders didn't dock dog's tails; when sled dogs were pulling hard, their heads were down. Tails were sometimes all one saw, especially a lead dog, as Violet was. She leaned back against the refrigerator door, and held the water bottle to her head.

"What shall we do today?" asked Koji "We could shop for furniture, maybe get some lunch downtown...."

She took a drink from the bottle.

"No. I want to ride."

Koji and Violet had always ridden motorcycles. He took her out on his bike on their first date. Not long after, Koji had taught Violet to ride, and helped her get her motorcycle license. When they lived in Trenton, Violet would ride Koji's bike to work most days. He rode a CB 750 Honda, a Nighthawk model. It was a typical 80's sportbike, a "UJM"; a universal Japanese motorcycle. When they married, Koji had a very special gift for his bride- a Harley- Davidson Sportster XL1200 low. It was a one off bike, built in the HD custom shop just for her; It had purple lace paint, and every bit of chrome and black leather that Harley could put on a bike. No show rig, it had all of the screaming eagle parts as well as a hidden seventy five horsepower nitrous oxide system. It was an impressive bike, and Violet knew how to ride it. Today, Violet wanted to ride.

"Are you going to lay there ALL DAY?" Violet screamed from the bedroom, not ten feet away. She worked her leather pants up her calves, then over her thighs. Finally, with a tug, she snugged them over her bum, and her naked puss. Violet never wore panties under her leathers; she found the leather against her skin erotic. The pants rode low enough, that they were under her well protruding belly. She then slipped on a cotton cami, and her jacket over that. Finally, she pulled on her heeled riding boots. Finally together, Violet looked the part of a pregnant dominatrix. Koji. In the meantime, had pulled his leathers over jeans and a t shirt.

"You ready"

"Yeah, uh. Violet? Are you OK? "

"Yeah. Fine. I just want to ride."

Violet headed toward the street with koji in tow.

"Forget something?"

Koji tossed her her helmet.

"Helmets are for pussies"

"Pussies that want to live. No helmet, no ride."

"Ewwwwwwwwww!"

Violet stomped off, helmet in hand.

Three flights of stairs, and they hit the street. It was several blocks to the Red Ball Garage, where the bikes were kept. The Red Ball was typical of garages in Manhatten. A dark, forbidding fortress, where it cost residents a small fortune to store their vehicles, safe from the cties' horrors. They walked through the huge overhead door. Passing the office, they barely rated a nod from the retired guy who watched the garage over the weekend. In theory, they retrieved your vehicle for you. As a practical matter, the weekend guy couldn't ride a motorcycle and you wouldn't want him to, even if he could. Violet and Koji entered the car elevator, latched the door, and headed for the fourth floor.

Reaching the rear most corner of the top floor, Violet pulled the gray flannel cover from her Harley. She folded the cover loosely, then hung it over a nearby pipe. She then did her preflight inspection, much as a pilot would. She checked the tank for fuel, and the level of oil. The battery charger was disconnected; they were lucky to have an outlet near their spaces. She checked the air in the tires, the operation of the brakes and clutch. Only when she was satisfied that everything was in order did she throw her leg over the saddle. She folded down the peg, and, after inserting and turning the key, gave it a kick, then another, stirring the bike to life. Now, Violet was fully aware that she could just twist the key, and start the bike. This displeased her. To Violet, motorcycles started with a jump on a foot peg. It had always been that way, and for her, it would always be that way. She held the bike steady, as it settled into it's Harley-Davidson idle, the brick walls echoing the "potato-potato-potato" sound of the big twin. Satsfied it was running as it should, Violet put on her helmet, and popped the clutch.

The Harley exploded from a standing start, it's tires screaming in protest. Avoiding the elevator, Violet took the ramps, using her pointed steel toes like a flat tracker, supporting the bike on her sturdy legs, as the rear slid out on the polished concrete. Koji did his best to keep up, even though his Nighthawk was arguably the better handling bike. When Violet rode, she was possessed . When she rode possessed, she was very difficult to stay with. She blasted from the garage, almost hitting a pedestrian, before bouncing across the cobblestone streets of SoHo. She made three blocks before her first light; she rocked and swayed, before peeling out at the first hint of green. They were on the East Side Drive in under five minutes.

Once on the highway, Violet gave the bike it's legs. Opening the throttle fully, she cut and diced through the Sunday traffic. She split lanes, and took openings where Angels would fear to tread. Leaving Manhatten, she headed for the Hutchinson, and Connecticut. The Hutch was light this morning, and Violet got up into triple digits for the first time. Koji was himself an excellent rider, and his CB 750 was no slouch even after all these years, but he soon found himself running flat out just to keep his wife in sight. Getting up on the back wheel, Violet would just accelerate, and walk away. Mile after mile they ran, flat out, eyes peeled for the police. The Hutchinson soon became the Merrit, and the merit took them to Eight north. Eight north is an eight lane, lightly traveled major highway north, into the hills. Once on Eight, Violet REALLY opened the bike up, getting up over one thirty five. She stayed hard on the throttle, until exit Twenty six. Hard on the brakes, she downshifted, late apexed, and flew down the ramp. Catching the light green, she made it into the parking lot at Indian Wells State Park.

Violet hit the gravel parking lot, put down a boot, and did a perfect 180 with a flick of the handlebars. She kicked out the stand, pulled off her helmet, and shook out her purple hair, just as Koji arrived. Koji drove right up to her, and dropped his bike. He grabbed Violet by the shoulders, and began to scream:

"What the @#$%^&*! Is the MATTER with you?"

Koji's face was blue with rage.

"If you have no regard for yourself.....or me......what about our babies? I have never been so scared in my life!"

It was as if Koji ignited a rocket....a rocket named Violet.

"You SCARED? What about ME?" Violet began beating Koji's chest, as she screamed.

"How am I supposed to feel? Do I think I can be a mother? How would I know? No one was ever a mother to ME! Have I screwed up my life...your life.....our kid's lives?"

Violet stopped beating Koji's chest, and fell to the ground sobbing. He picked her up, and carried her, still sobbing to the grass on the side of the lot.

He let her cry herself out. When she was finally still, he spoke, holding her close.

"Is that it? You're scared about the baby?"

Violet nodded her head. She was sucking her thumb. Koji stroked her head.

"Poor dear! But lots of girls have babies....."

"But they had mothers, and sisters, and fathers who taught them how to raise children."

Violet was crying again. Koji snuggled her.

"I think you'll do fine. You're so brave, and strong, and your heart is SO big, you'll be the best mom ever....'

"But, I don't know the first thing about being a mom.....and I'm such a MORON, thinking I wanted babies, with no idea what I'd do.....BWAAAAAAAAH!"

Violet cried uncontrollably again. Koji held her, until she had calmed herself.

"You OK? Let's get something to eat."

Violet nodded her agreement.

"Koji?"

"What, dear?"

"Can I ride the 'Hawk?.......Hemeroids....."

Koji began to laugh.

"Sorry.....sure......"

He helped her up, and they exchanged bikes.

About a half hour away was Marcus Dairy. Sitting below the 84/7 interchange, Marcus was an actual Dairy. But it's real claim to fame was a small, unremarkable dinner style restaurant. What made it remarkable was Sunday. For on Sunday, Marcus Dairy was the center of the biker universe. Ever ride, within a hundred fifty miles ended, or began at Marcus. Once they arrived, it took Koji and Violet twenty minutes to park. Once they parked their bikes. They then waited for a seat. In about another twenty minutes, they got two stools at the counter. Then, food lust took over.

"Mmmmmm. Belgian waffles. Bacon. Eggs. Home fries......"

Koji hugged his wife.

"You order ANYTHING you want. Just......"

"Just...what?" she gave him 'the eye'.

"Just ....don't let this end like Paris.'

"Don't remind me!"

Violet ordered one of everything on the menu.

When the food arrived, Violet was relaxed enough to talk.

Koji? I've been thinking......"

Koji took a bite of eggs.

"Thinking? That's an improvement....."

Violet punched him. It hurt.

"Koji! I'm being serious....."

"Sorry. Go on."

"How would you feel if I changed my name?".

'To what?"

"Koji!!!!"

"Sorry"

" I've always hated my name. I'd like to change it. "

"What would you change it to?"

"Violet Russel Haeos"

Koji chewed for a while.

"Your name doesn't change anything for me."

"It changes things for me."

"Katherine Whitebear is like my slave name. I always hated it."

"It's where you're from."

Violet's whole look changed.

"I mean her no disrespect. I OWE her. She died giving me my freedom. But she's gone. She deserves a decent burial."

Koji looked at his bride.

"Then we shall give her one."

Two months later, Koji and Violet had an appointment at the Surrogate's Court in Manhatten. The kindly older judge looked over the papers, then turned to Violet.

"Why do you want to change your name, dear?"

Violet explained it to him. When she finished, Koji could have sworn there was a tear in the judge's eye.

"Sounds like a perfect reason to me. Granted."

He banged his gavel, and Violet Russel Haeos was Violet Russel Haeos, permanently and forever. It seemed to make a difference. Violet never talked about being scared again. She faced motherhood with a calm, and a serenity that surprised Koji.

And they would remember that Sunday morning ride for every day of their many happy years together.