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The Wrong Side of Town

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The sun was low on the horizon, heat still coming off the concrete and brick walls of the enclosed space as the young woman wandered into the deserted courtyard. She laid her bag and jacket down on a paint peeled bench seat as she surveyed the boarded up doors and windows of the high rise blocks. Somewhere in the distance there was the roar of an engine, whilst closer a tin can clattered and rolled. Nerves skittered down her spine; she needed to get off of the streets before dark. Maybe she could find a way into the building. The fire escape looked promising and there was no boarding over the nearest window, only broken glass. Quickly walking to the base of the ladder, she reached up to take a hold, but as she placed a foot on the lowest rung, a boot scraped behind her and someone snickered.

'Well little lady, you looking for a room? Only this building belongs to the Eagles and looks to me like you're trespassing'.

Startled,she tripped backwards off the ladder and spun to see two rough looking men staring at her, their gaze assessing her from head to toe, lingering over her breasts. Suddenly she understood how the rabbit felt.

'Maybe she has the rent money in her bag there'. Hell there was another one behind her. Stupid stupid stupid. How had she not heard them? Why hadn't she paid more attention to the feeling of being watched.

'I'm more interested in what she has in those leather pants she's wearing'. As they closed in on her, she shouted, shoved and kicked and ran. Training and instincts taking her away from the entrapment of the wall and into the open.

Suddenly an engine roared into the courtyard and a motor bike slid and spun, all screeching tyres, rubber and metal on concrete. A dark shadow leaped off before the bike had finished spinning, landing on one of her assailants, fists flying.

Three against one was odds she had no chance against, but two against three; she could put some of those training sessions with her brothers to good use.

Minutes later, the three bullies were either out for the count or crawling away to lick their wounds. Judging by the killing looks she and and the biker were getting, she sincerely hoped that she never saw them again. A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth, kicking that one in the jaw had been very satisfying though.

Her saviour was sitting dabbing blood from a split lip and what might be a broken nose. She pulled a handkerchief from her back pocket and went to hold it to his nose. 'Here, let me. It's the least I can do. Thank you. I think you probably saved my life, or worse'. OK, now she was babbling!
_____

Flinching the biker pulled his head away and took the cloth from the woman's hand, holding it to his nose. He didn't think it was broken, but it hurt like hell and a tooth felt loose as well. When he didn't answer her, the woman's hand fell to her side and she looked away, flexing her fingers.

Finally he said 'You OK?' and nodded towards her hand. She looked down. 'Bruises. Hurts more than it used to in practise'.

He scrambled up and went to pick up his bike, 'always does'. Straddling the seat he stared down, absently rubbing the new scratches on his bike and wondering how he was going to repair the paintwork.

'Thank you. For you help!'

'You said that.' He leaned forward over the handle bars and chewed his split lip, looking at the woman and then around the empty courtyard, shadows lengthening as night fell. She hadn't moved since handing him the cloth and as he looked back at her, she lifted her chin defiantly, somehow managing to look both brave and lost at the same time. He sighed and sat up, pushing down with his foot to start the bike; 'Guess you need a ride, get on!'
Fear flashed across her eyes and she took a step back. He snorted as he adjusted a pair of goggles over his eyes, wincing as they brushed his nose. 'Don't worry, you're safe enough with me'.

She nodded once and went to retrieve her bag and jacket; for some reason believing him. Climbing on the bike, she held out her hand; 'Thanks! Again! My name's Yasmin'.
This time, he took it and pumped it once in a hard grip. 'Zeke. Hang on'.

Yasmin was briefly flung back and then grabbed for Zeke's belt, as they roared out of the courtyard and into the night black streets.

______________________

So this is how Zeke and Yasmin met. Hope you like it. Comments as always welcome.


Rendered in LUX using Reality plugin for Daz3D
This type of scene was a first for me and I want to thank the people at 3d-Noir for their help :)
Image size
2000x1500px 4.09 MB
Mature
© 2012 - 2024 dylazuna
Comments11
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2Loose2Trek's avatar
Wow!  The scene certainly captures the action of the story ... or, I should say, the story captures the action of the image.  Either way this really works!  :)