Sneaking in

There was a Jawa Sandcrawler trundling closer to the city that she could see. It would be at least partial cover, she supposed; before she could talk herself out of it, Drash kicked her bike back into life, and started to hurry towards the town before the Sandcrawler got too close.

She wanted it as cover. Pushing her bike, she made it to the Jawa vehicle before it had quite reached the outskirts of the town. She could hear it loudly rumbling along, leaving deep tracks in the sand behind it; carefully, Drash lifted up her leg, butt shifting around on the bike's seat as she swung herself round to be sat side-saddle.

She'd experimented with a few poses riding before. It was awkward with less to steady herself with, but she locked the engine on, and was careful when she tilted the handlebars; she crouched down, her right leg now on the left leg's rest, curling up to hide her body behind the mass of the bike, between the blue metal and the Sandcrawler. Her left leg, bare, trailed in the warm sand with nowhere to hide.

Still, she had one arm reaching around the bike, a hint of her nudity, to keep it steady. At least this way she could get onto the street mostly obscured from anyone that wasn't dumb enough to actively walk in front of a moving Sandcrawler. She curled up as best she could, breasts against the back of her thigh, biting her lip.

Don't think about it, don't think about it...

She could slowly hear more voices, other travellers and traders on the outskirts of the city. Immediately, heat rushed to her face again. She tightened her grip on her bike, hoping none looked at any more than the bare arm holding onto the saddle weirdly - if they even gave the sandcrawler a second glance. For the first time she regretted the ostentatious paintjob she so painstakingly gave her bike.

Her arm was a little sore from holding on, but she willed herself through it, glad of the distraction from everything else. Her left foot was still in the sand, and crouching low as she was, she felt the sediment against her leg, reminding her of just how much she had exposed.

Then, rather than a variety of languages and voices, she heard aggressive squeaking. Drash awkwardly tilted her head- and almost swerved her bike when she saw a Jawa sticking its head out of a hatch, squeaking and waving a tiny fist aggressively at her.

Her bike rocked precariously.

"Sorry! Not trying to graze you," Drash said, trying to keep her voice down.

The Jawa continued to squeak, annoyed. She squirmed, face blazing. Of all the things to be caught by...

Did they thing she was trying to snatch something off the crawler? Jawas could always be annoying protective - and as someone with droid parts, she'd never gotten on that well with them. Quickly, Drash stuck her head up over her bike, seeing them pass the outermost layer of houses of Mos Espa.

The Jawa continued to shout at her, apparently drawing attention. Blindly, Drash tweaked the handlebars of her bike, and with a yelp kicked off a burst of speed so that she wasn't keeping pace with the sluggish crawler - she jerked sideways, shooting into the alleyway standing with her right leg on the left of her bike, left leg going wide.

Eyes wide, and bright red, she slowed after a couple of seconds in the alley to re-orient herself and sit properly on the bike again. Well, she'd made it into Mos Espa, even if a Jawa had seen her butt and she'd needed to streak through a crowd. Still, hopefully they hadn't seen more than a blur. Hopefully.

She could still hear voices. Drash glanced back over her shoulder to see the vague crowd of travellers and traders that surrounded the city, and quickly restarted her bike.

There were a lot of buildings on the outskirts of Mos Espa. A lot were waystations, wells and store-houses to supply people heading out or greet people coming in from one of the world's few other towns. She was behind one, a narrow and thankfully-empty gap between a storehouse and what looked like some kind of speeder-rental.

She wasn't sure what she was driving to find - she just hoped that her heart-rate would settle down soon, and that she'd have left the crowd behind. Drash swallowed.

And then came to a stop - what she'd taken to be a bend was anything but. A beige wall rose up in front of her, signalling a dead end, a narrow wall having been raised apparently to smooth out the entry-road on the far side. Drash looked nervously back; she seemed to be alone in the alleyway, but she was still nude in Mos Espa, and still a fair few blocks away from her usual haunt.

And the idea of turning around and driving back out through the crowd was... no, that was not an option. Drash blushed, reluctantly stepping off her bike. She wiggled her toes on her left foot, it being disproportionately sandy compared to her right, then clicked on the bike's usual security setting. She doubted many bike thieves would come down here, but it was better to be sure - unless you knew the trick, touching the metal would just give you a nasty shock.

Which would leave it secure until she came back for it. Ideally with clothes. Drash stepped back, and glanced back - there was a small stack of crates against a wall, no doubt spare parts kept out of the way. Quickly, Drash climbed them, and reached up with her hand to just about reach the roof; with a sudden pull, she managed to get her fore-arm looped around the rooftop's lip and scrabbled wildly against the wall with her feet, just getting the friction to pull herself up to the top of the one-floor house. As her breasts past the lip, the rest of her toppled over.

She didn't stand up. Rather, she stayed on her knees, staying low and looking out ahead.

Well, the sooner she started the sooner she'd be home and clothed...