Anna was awake long before it was likely any of the others would stir. She walked toward the kitchen in a thin silk dressing gown clinging to her where she was still wet from a stimulating shower. It clung to her breasts, between her cheeks and rode up around her thighs. She would be mortified to be caught like this being a very private person but this was her time, alone in the quiet house. In the mirror she caught sight of a slim sensuous figure rather good for a woman approaching forty. Anna sighed at the idea of being four years from forty. Where had the time gone? At sixteen she had Ben, quickly married and devoted the rest of her life to keeping a husband and three children happy.
She brushed at the long blond hair while padding down the corridor, quietly, so as not to disturb the others. Soon they would be up to order their breakfasts and ironing, and 'where is my tee shirt?' Always demanding attention, 'Where did you put my golf clubs?' Wanting this or that. Her husband and sons demanded attention even here supposedly away from it all. Renting a holiday cottage in the sun gave them a superb break with all the comforts of home, but not a break from the household chores. Even Ben the eldest son had turned up on his motorcycle with a friend. The young girl would be another mouth to feed with more demands to be met, which started the moment they arrived.
She had to admit it was a fault allowing them to take her for granted. As friends pointed out, in detail they would admonish her, as they asked for another drink or a second helping of the marvellous pie she baked. She was simply used to being told what to do by a demanding husband and had learnt to anticipate what the family needed. On returning home she would book that assertiveness course, if only she could find the time.
Opening the kitchen door she was angered by the chaos of the night before where the boys had made a midnight snack leaving debris everywhere. How could they make so much mess? How could they wreak such havoc? Had they used every pot and pan in the kitchen? Anna staggered out into the strengthening morning sunshine. "Away." She sighed quietly. "Away, just away somewhere. Quiet. Where I can be by myself. Away from the demands of family." The idea of being free for a while eased her mind. The mountains beckoned, perhaps a hike in the country.
Wandering around the garden aimlessly, a motorcycle carelessly abandoned by Ben across the path, halted her musing. She hadn't ridden a bike in a long time. Could she still? She remembered how blissful the feeling of freedom could be on a bike. Hanging in the garage, where she had tidied it away, was a one-piece leather suit and without another thought she shrugged off the gown to struggle into it. With a determined push the bike was off its stand and rolling gently down the drive. The bike wobbled alarmingly for a moment before gaining speed on the downward slope of the road. She found the starter button but struggled with the gears for a long awkward moment. Before coming to an unsteady halt she managed to crank down into a gear, then found another, until she was gaining speed, distance and confidence. The Triumph purred with satisfaction.
In the early hours of a sunny summer morning there was no one on the road giving a feeling of wonderful freedom. Long hair blew out from under the helmet like a First World War pilots scarf. Like a warrior's banner the blond hair fluttered in the wind. The winding road had a good surface enticing her to race through the bends. The fresh mountain air was still cool and refreshing.
Ridding into the sun she came upon a customs post only just seeing the barrier in time. Breaking heavily she stopped for the first time since leaving home over an hour earlier. A man in uniform had stepped into her path forcing her to stop. She very nearly ran him down.
"Is it your custom to ignore customs?" He demanded with a soft smile curling his lips. She looked around realising she was in Italy, from the signs, and the young mans smart uniform, which was an obvious clue. She must have crossed the border from France on one of the small tracks in the hills where there were no signs or hindrance.
He guessed she spoke English perhaps because of the motorcycle. His wrinkled brow showed he was unsure of her. Before he tested her with another language she answered him. "I am sorry. I did not notice where I was going."
The crisp morning light played in his eyes with the expression turning from official concentration to a broad smile. He nodded his head to reply. "I understand. Such a fine machine must be ridden long and hard for absolute enjoyment." He deliberated, nodding his head absently. The accent was as Italian as his charm. He stood tall and confident, purposeful.
They were staying so close to the frontier yet had never driven over it into Italy. This spot looked so romantic nestled in a cleft in the hills. There was just a mountain hut as an office and this flimsy barrier across the road. She could have ridden around it. With the engine off the ticking cooling metal echoed in the narrow pass, the only noise it was so quiet, a pleasant place, peaceful. She allowed him to guide her to the office while he talked, what of she didn't hear as she pulled off the helmet.
Sitting down at his desk she could see him clearly now her eyes were clear of the sunlight. He was handsome and suntanned yet he didn't wear the arrogance of youth. She realised he repeated something expecting a response from her. "A cup of coffee?"
She jumped up in response to his question. "Oh. Yes, of course. Do you take sugar?"
He laughed lightly. "No, no do you want a cup of coffee. You look pale. You are cold from your ride perhaps. Are you OK?"
Anna felt embarrassed that her automatic reaction to a man, even a stranger, was to get him what he wanted.
He poured coffee and asked where she was going, where from, for how long. Handing her a cup he asked. "I would like to see your passport."
Her answers were vague. "I'm not sure where I've been. I don't have my passport. I left in a hurry this morning."
He looked at her, this time with a serious regard. His handsome features were smooth and fresh in contrast to the rugged mountains. "Well," he said shrugging his shoulders, "Perhaps something to identify you. Lets look at what you do have in your pockets."
His smile was reassuring not officious. Wanting to be cooperative she eagerly unzipped pockets in the leather suit turning out oddments her son had collected on his journey south. A packet of condoms she placed on the desk in front of him trying to hide them nervously under the other oddments.
Turning over some cigarette papers he sniffed them then looked up at her thoughtfully. He walked around the desk to stand beside her tall and straight. He stated carefully. "You had better take the suit off. I will inspect the pockets."
She stood before him not able to say "No," to this man of authority. Her embarrassment coloured her cheeks a bright red at the thought of undressing before him. Suddenly very aware of not having underwear brought on a chill of fright. A little thrilling, perhaps. After so long being a married woman it was nice to have him admire her figure. The tight leather emphasised a slender waist highlighting a large pair of breasts that she was still not used to. All her life she had hardly anything until the last couple of years they had been growing for some unknown reason. She hadn't put on weight anywhere else, just there. She felt the colour spread down her neck and knew it would flush her breasts pink.
"It is really difficult to take off could you just search my pockets?" She flustered desperately. Surely her nakedness didn't show otherwise he wouldn't have asked her to strip off, he seemed so nice. She smiled at him nodding, lifting her arms to her sides, and telling him with body language, to go ahead and search. He was a man so of course he agreed. "Thank you." She said inappropriately and smiling demurely.
