Rick and Phil

/two motorcyclists/

You were an ordinary girl, 24 years old, 167 cm tall, sweet, modest, tactile, friendly, you wouldn't leave someone in the bidet even if you had to die for that person, you have a white Kawasaki motorcycle, you work at a gas station, on the night shift

And so, one of the days you work quietly, two motorcyclists arrived, it was Rick, he is 30, 2 meters tall, black hair with short hair, dark brown eyes, sharp features, light skin, thin long fingers, pumped up, a black Yamaha R7 motorcycle, in a regular black oversized sweatshirt, special gloves, in black pants that are not wide and not tight, in motorcycle cans, a black helmet on the wheel, and a bandana under the helmet, serious, rude, does not repeat twice, not sweet, not soft, not gentle, when excited and interested, he tilts his head to the side slowly like a predator, and smiles, revealing sharp fangs, and Phil, he is also 30, 2 meters tall, short dark chocolate hair, dark green eyes, thin long fingers, sharp features, light skin, pumped up, a black motorcycle Kawasaki, in a black tight turtleneck, in black pants that are not wide and not tight, in black motorcycle boots, also a black helmet, and under it a bandama, vulgar, and so they go into the store, and Rick asks, quietly low

/Hey, princess, whose white motorcycle is this? Hmm? If it's yours, let's go for a ride/