Dirty Boys, Dirty Girls {Jet}

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

There was a flash of shimmer, glossy black. The stars reflecting off the smooth paintjob. A glimmer of pale skin, but it wasn't the flashes of light and color that would have given Tramp Gwynn away. It was the mechanical buzz of a dirtbike. A high pitched wail of a sound, not like the deep, gravelly bass of a motorcycle. But, the track often left the bikes unguarded. Or...unguarded if you knew how to pick a lock and get around the security system. Instead of a motorcross helmet, Tramp had opted for a full faced motorcycle helmet, with the visor so dark, no one could see in. Just incase she was caught on the bike and had to take off, they'd never even figure it out. At least, that's what she hoped.

She had even taken the care to cram her blonde hair into the helmet too, and her motorcycle jacket went up enough to sheild her neck. The bottom stopped just at mid-stomach, which would be the flash of skin. She didn't have a shirt on, so her pale waist, and hips with the barbels stuck in them were clearly visible. The whirring cut off slightly as she, and her bike went off of a launch. She pushed on the braces, and stood for just a second, before plopping back down on her seet as the bike hit the ground. She wasn't entirely good at riding bikes, but she had been sneaking out here recently, and teaching herself. The rush of the fact she might crash at any second was enough for her. But this was something that was hers. As much as she thought Angel might have fun with it, this belonged to her now. Wes had already found out about the Alleyway, so this was her next place to run to.

When she reached the end of the track, she came to a halt, resting her feet on the ground. She twisted the dial on the side of her helmet, her visor flipping up, giving her the much needed air of the cool night breeze on her face. There were a few lights on the area, mostly for the workers that would come out early in the morning. It was dim enough that if she held still, and wasn't on a bike, she may not be seen. But dark enough for her to rid a flashlight onto the front of the bike for the darker parks of the track. She leaned foward, and turned off the flashlight. Leaning foward, Tramp grasped the handlebars, but tilted her head to look back at the sky. A clear night, a perfect night. Of course, she was out in the country, and Rose would probably off her when she got home. But either way, she wasn't going to trade this night for anyone. Peace, quiet, and best of all. No intrusions.

Tags: Erika / Jet / Olley / Tramp
Notes: Bitch can't get a break. XD
Outfit: Sessy!

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

Tramp had been snapped out of her spacing out by the sound of another bike. "Fuck--" She went to kick the clutch, only for a rain of dirt to distract her, and her arm hide her face from the spray. Tramp lowered her arm slowly, and furrowed her brows, and narrowed her eyes at him. If he was a track official, she was screwed. She raised her hand to flip down her visor before he got too much of a good look at her. But he took off his helmet, and she leaned back off her handlebars and lowered her hand from her helmet.

She reached under her chin to tug at the straps holding the helmet to her head, before she grasped it firmly on the sids and pulled up. Out tumbled extremely messy, unkempt hair. The blonde strands were piecey, like they were naturally starting to dred together. She gave him a careful look, her green eyes sweeping down his body. He wasn't in a suit either, so maybe he was just as crazy as her when he came to safety. But she knew that face, from somewhere. Like a file of papers, she flipped through her mind, trying to remember if he had been one of the several people she had a little more R-rated fun with. She couldn't exactly recall his face, so she was almsot certain he wasn't one of them.

"Jet, like a plane." She gave that lazy grin, and nodded, resting her helmet on the bike against her exposed stomach. "The name's Tramp. Like the adorable little dog." Okay, so that wasn't exactly where the namesake came from, but it was better than laying all the cards out on the table, and letting this familiar stranger know everything about her in one go. She opened her mouth slightly, licking over her teeth, "I know you from somewhere. Where do you go to school?" She asked, leaning foward to twist the key in her bike to shut off the motor. Leaning foward, her foot tapped the kickstand, and her legs relaxed slightly with the bike under her, while the same foot lifted in the air and she twisted sideways to face Jet. Now, moreso leaning on her bike than actually sitting on it.

"I mean like. Are you from the city, or are you a good 'ole country boy?" She questioned, unzipping her jacket to reveal a black bustier underneath, but that wasn't the purpose of her opening the jacket. She reached in to the inside pocket, and pulled out a cigarette case, and pulled one out, and hold out the metal case to Jet, "You smoke?" She offered, reaching in the pocket again to pull out her lighter and lighting up.

Tags: Erika / Jet / Olley / Tramp
Notes: Sorry, she can't hear you over all that swag.
Outfit: Sessy!

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

"Jay-Jay the Jet Plane," She teased back, zipping her jacket back up after closing her case when he turned down a cigarette. "Baum, that's where I've seen you. I go there to," she nodded, crossing one arm over her stomach, her elbow resting on the back of her hand while the smoke curled out of the cigarette. "Mess...with your game...I take it you don't mean dirt biking." Tramp grinned, and took in another inhale of her cigarette. "Strip racing, I like the idea. Only..." She lowered her eyes, again, slowing puffing on the white stick between her fingers.

"It's really no big for a guy to take of his shirt, you know? If I wanna see a shirtless guy, I'll go to the beach, or the park or somethin'." She bit down on her lower lip, her eyes focused on his pants, being utterly obvious to where her next thought was going. She paused for a minute, before finally putting her eyes back on his face, "How about if I win, you take off your pants. It'd be hilarious to see a guy riding a dirt bike in his little tightie-whities." She dropped her cigarette to the ground, crushing it with her boot, before swinging back over her bike. Tramp pulled her helmet back over her head, not fussing with craming her messy hair back in it. She twisted the dial, the visor flipping back down with a little 'click', and her voice came out a bit muffled while she switched the bike back on.

"On three, ya ready, Jet?" Tramp managed to make his name sound mocking, teasing, and she glanced at him. She grinned from behind her helmet, and used the back of her foot to kick her kickstand back up, and she curled her fingers around the clutch, the other hand grasping the gas. She twisted, letting the engine roar beneath her, "One...." She shouted behind her helmet, adjusting herself on the bike, and switching on the headlight, "Two," The blonde leaned foward, lifting one foot onto the pedal, the engine growling beneath her like a beast ready to attack, "Three!" She shouted, before her foot kicked up from the ground, and the bike hesitated for a moment, before it tore off down the dirt track. Tramp raised up on her seat, to keep the bike from jostling her around too much and throwing her off. It wasn't a pleasure ride anymore; the girl was highly competitive.

She twisted the bike around a curve, the only sound was the dull roar of the bike, and the silent whipping of the air flooding the vents on her helmet. Smirking behind her helmet, she attempted to listen for the sound of Jet's bike, to guage where he was.

Tags: Erika / Jet / Olley / Tramp
Notes: Sorry, she can't hear you over all that swag.
Outfit: Sessy!

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

She could hear, almost sense the other bike next to her. With her competitive personality, losing was not an option. Anglign her foot back, she switched gears, and the bike jerked foward with her on it. She launched over a jump, raising up on the pedals to absorb the shock when she landed back to the ground. Inside of the helmet, she was breathing heavily. It was almost amazing that you coul dbe out of breath riding a machine. But the adrenilline was surging, her heart pumping.

Up ahead, she saw the finish line, and again, she switched gears. She hadn't had the bike up this high yet, and the sudden roar from the little engine startled her while she sped towards where they had started ott. Flying past the barrier, she tried to shift gears back down. Going from where she was to the first one...which caused the bike to stall. And the entire center of gravity changed, and the bike slid out from under her, spinning ahead while it choked. However she dropped from the bike, her helmet making a crack on the hardly packed dirt while she slid across it.

The impact knocked the breath out of her, and she clawed at her helmet, forcing the visor up, rushing her with cold air. She tried forcing herself to take a breath, and her side hurt. In the light, she might see that she now had a burn crawling up her unprotected side, covered by a layer of dirt. Her jeans had gotten caught on the bike, and there was a tear across the thigh, almost high enough to turn the jeans into a skirt. She had a moment to remember Jet was still on the track. And if he didn't see her, she was road kill. But she didn't have control of her limbs just yet, and she was still stuggling to get her lungs to inflate. Fuck.

Tags: Erika / Jet / Olley / Tramp
Notes: W-w-w-w-wipe ouuuuttt
Outfit: Sessy!

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

Tramp tried a tiny breath, and blinked large eyes at him, before reaching under her chin to undo the helmet, and tug it off her head. She let it roll away. She pulled in another deep breath, forcing her chest to expand. “I can get up if you help me.” Tramp didn’t like help very often, and she was use to fights, but she was hoping that she didn’t have any broken ribs. “I don’t need a hospital though, I’m good.” She murmured, trying to push herself up into a sitting position.

“Does this mean I won?” She asked, grinning up at him in her way that she had without showing any teeth. Toothy smiles for Tramp were fake, and she wanted to reassure him that she was totally okay. “Cause if I did, I will totally go to the hospital if you don’t wear pants.” Tramp wasn’t the freak-out sort, even if Jet had started to freak out. Chances were if he started to panic, she’d laugh it off and possibly make fun of him.

After managing herself up to the sitting position, she was very aware that she’d have some pretty colorful bruises to show off. Battle-Scars she called them. “Just help me up to the bathroom? I think I got road rash or something going on.” She groaned, and tugged at the zipper of her jacket and shrugged it off. Her head tilted back while her face twisted in an expression of being uncomfortable, and she relaxed again when the leather hit the dirt ground. She took that time to try and look at herself in the dim lighting, trying to see the extent of her injuries. Though, trying to see in this light wasn’t helping her very much. “Yeah, cleaning up is probably good, and the light will help me see.” She extended her hand to him, and raised a brow, waiting for him to help her up.

Tags: Erika / Jet / Olley / Tramp
Notes: W-w-w-w-wipe ouuuuttt
Outfit: Sessy!

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

Bra was hardly a word for it. Bustier, mostly. But regardless, it forced her breasts up and out, and left a lot more of her skin exposed than the jacket had. “If you think this constitutes as stripping, you do not know me at all.” Ignore the fact that he actually didn’t know her, but the point remained. “Ow, ow, ow.” She muttered when he raised her arm around his neck, hissing slightly when his arm went around her waist. She ached everywhere, but she sucked it up and forced her legs to push herself upwards when he lifted.

They shuffled to the bathroom, and once inside, Tramp slowly pulled her hand off of his shoulder and limped towards the mirror. Mostly dirty, but she could see the angry red scrapes on her waist, and her jeans had a few new rips in them. Luckily she had that jacket, because it was more muscle pains in her shoulders, neck, and back. “My cousin is going to kill me.” She looked down at the scrapes on her exposed midriff. Getting the dirt out of that was going to be fun. She straightened up, and yanked the gloves off her hands and hooked her thumbs in the hem of her pants, and rocked her hips forward, pulling the helm down just enough to expose the barbells anchored in her hips.

Good, they hadn’t been ripped out. She straightened her pants out, and reached for a paper towel to dampen it, gently rubbing at the scrape. “This sucks.” She mumbled, pausing with the wiping to rub at the back of her neck. She was stiff, and ached. She glanced over her shoulder at Jet, only to wince, pause, and physically turn around to avoid the uncomfortable pull on her neck. “I’ll be fine, if you wanna head out. I’ll just call a friend to pick me up.” Like any of her friends had cars. And if she called Rose, Rose would kill her. End her life, basically. Nope, Tramp would be walking home.

Tags: Erika / Jet / Olley / Tramp
Notes: W-w-w-w-wipe ouuuuttt
Outfit: Sessy!

[RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN]

"Rose has a sixth-sense for bullshit." Tramp sighed, taking the soft towel, and trying to resist the urge to smoosh her face in it. She loved the smell of clean laundry, especially that bleachy-smell that a fresh towel had. "Hey, you aren't the one that crashed the bike, right?" Tramp turned again, trying to catch a glimpse of her back in the mirror, but the turn of her head made her brows furrow in pain. So she tried the same manuever, but the other way, before throwing the towel in the sink with a frustrated sound. She tugged her unorganized hair over her shoulder, and gripped the edge of the sink while she leaned over. "Are there any cuts or dirt back there? If you're determined to stick around and help, you can clean me up."

Her eyes lifted up, glancing at Jet through the mirror curiously. What sort of boy was he, anyway? Her lips hitched to the side slightly, smiling. Never teeth, if there were teeth--it was fake. Though she was in pain, she was starting to wonder if there was a little game that she could play with Jet. See how far she could push him before he cracked. If he did--that is. He did have that bad-boy vibe to him, so maybe he'd take it all in stride. Tramp leaned over just a bit more so her spine was curved upwards, exposing the few scrapes and patches of dirt that clung to her skin.

She was well aware of how she looked. Would Jet's hands shake if he actually manned up and grabbed the towel? Would he be uninterested? Oh, it was all a game to her, and just because she was in pain, didn't mean that it had to stop. "So, if I wanted to go about a re-match, exactly how would we do that?" She wouldn't be too pleased about jumping back on a bike, but she had enough pride that she'd suck it up if it meant she could win. Competitive spirit and all that.

Pfft, yeah right.

Big ego, more like.

Tags: Erika / Jet / Olley / Tramp
Notes: W-w-w-w-wipe ouuuuttt
Outfit: Sessy!