I just stared at the empty but beautifully-shaped black and pink spandex suit pulling me toward my apartment’s front door with an invisible hand. The outfit had just told me “let’s go shopping.” She didn’t ask me if I’d take her, she told me “let’s go”!

“Excuse me,” I said, “but aren’t we kind of pushy or, well, ‘pully’ today, considering you’re depending on me to take you there?”

“I’m not depending on you,” Sheila said. “I got to your job without help from you or from Shannon, remember?”

I’d forgotten all about that. When she said she wanted to go shopping I translated that to ‘she wanted me to take her shopping.’

“OK,” I said. “So how are we getting there?”

“All taken care of,” she said, as we approached my front door. Sitting at the curb was a black BMW X7, the rear passenger-side door open.

“Kinda fancy ride just for shopping, isn’t it?” I said as I climbed in. “I could have driven just as easily, if not more.”

“It was arranged by a friend of mine,” Sheila said as she climbed in behind me. This was a brand-new model, but this particular one was already modified inside, similar to a stretch limo. Among other things there was a driver’s partition, and it was up, so I couldn’t see the driver. “I didn't want you to see where we were going, and blacked-out windows look better than black curtains. I didn't want it to look like a hearse.”

I looked around, and could see through all the other windows just fine. Only the partition between us and the driver was up. But I only got to say, “But I can see just--” before all the windows went jet black. There was no hint of light coming through any window for a couple of seconds, before inside lights came on.

"What was that for?" I wanted to ask, but when the lights came on I saw another change. There was an outfit seated with us that, as far as I could tell, wasn’t there before the windows were blacked out.

It was a black, sheer long-sleeved top paired with tight, dark pants. The top’s collar was empty, but it otherwise appeared to be filled with a solid, visible curvy torso with a white tube top underneath. There were sheer gloves at the end of the shirt’s sleeves, and just like the shirt there appeared to be hands inside the gloves -- but there was plainly a gap between each sleeve end and its matching glove.

The outfit raised a sleeve in greeting, as Sheila said, “That’s a new outfit I picked up online. I could have shown it to you at home, but we both wanted to make it more dramatic.”

“We both?” I repeated, staring at the shirt’s perfect chest and wondering how it's possible that I'm seeing barely-covered breasts inside this sheer shirt if the shirt’s plainly… empty-ish.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice coming from the new outfit. “This outfit and I.”

“And here I thought you switched out of Pinky because you wanted me to get some time with this outfit,” I said, looking back at the pink and black spandex suit.

“Who says you can’t do both?” she asked, her voice coming from all around me.

"Your driver must be wondering what kind of weirdo clients they're driving around," I joked.

Sheila chuckled. “Who said anything about a driver?” she said, as the partition began to lower. The windshield must have been polarized glass, because I couldn’t see well enough through the windshield to have any idea of where we were, but I could see the steering wheel turning itself as we approached an intersection. No driver. I couldn't help wondering how we didn't get pulled over...

I turned back to Sheila's new outfit. “Shannon had said something about wanting to get a top like this for date nights with her new husband, but if she did it was after I left her for you,” she said, her voice centered right in front of me, or midway between the two outfits. “I found out the store I wanted to go to had just that same style of top, so I got a few. You’ll see the others when we get there.”

“Shannon was gonna buy clothes that looked like they already had a body in them?” I asked.

“No, silly,” Sheila said with a giggle. “She would have gotten a regular sheer top. You're seeing a special effect I was able to arrange. The curves you see are based on Shannon’s proportions, but they would work out to slightly larger numbers.”

"Hmm," I replied, still staring at the flexing construct beneath the sheer top. "How did you figure out how to arrange a self-driving limo, and how to transfer yourself to other clothes, when you've only been on your own for a few days?"

Sheila let out a knowing laugh, coming from the black athletic outfit. "Let's just say clothes and other self-directed objects look out for each other. What I can't do, I can find a teacher or a surrogate pretty quickly."

I held out a hand toward the new outfit as I felt the limo stop. It grabbed my hand with a glove and transferred from the seat to my lap. I was mesmerized by the way brown skin showed through the top from the outside but when I looked down into the collar I saw only the filled-out tube top.

Likewise the gloves appeared to be filled with hands but my hand passed through the empty space between the glove and the sleeve end.

And I liked the feeling of that shapely butt in my lap, though I was sure the effect wasn't nearly the same as if Shannon herself had been sitting there. This outfit only weighed a few pounds.

"I notice you picked really fine mesh," I said, looking down at deep cleavage. "Would have been too tempting if there had been space enough to fit my fingers through."

"Too tempting?" Sheila said. "Why do you say that? It's all clothing. The construct filling out the clothes is just that, a construct, whether you see skin or just feel it. And it's all my clothing." She paused for a moment before continuing, "That outfit does seem to grab your attention better than this one, though."

"You don't mind, do you?" I said, just a touch apologetic.

"Seriously?" Sheila said, in a disbelieving tone. "Like I just said, they're all my clothes. You know how they say 'women dress for themselves and each other'? Well, that goes for girls like me, too. Otherwise I'd never have asked you to come… here with me."

"Here?" I repeated. "I felt it when we stopped, but I didn't realize we still weren't moving. Where are we?"

At that the rear door we had entered through swung open and the engine shut off. I waited for the two outfits to leave first, my eyes riveted on the mesh shirt outfit the whole time. I automatically turned to close the door but of course, it closed itself.

We were in some kind of structure, more like a warehouse than a garage. I could see shipping containers, flatbed trailers, and quite a few vans. I was so busy gawking I didn't realize the outfits I rode in with were no longer there.

"See something interesting?" an unfamiliar female voice asked. I turned toward the sound of the voice and only then realized the rest of my… traveling party were not present.

What was present was a voluptuously-filled zentai suit, missing its hood. I glanced only briefly at the empty collar, before my gaze traveled down a bit, gawking at the suit's generously-filled chest. I managed to nod weakly in response to the question.

"Well," the suit replied, "the outfits you came here with were plenty interesting, too. Follow me and I'll lead you to them."

I followed the outfit, awed at the wide hips and thick thighs as it walked. After a couple of seconds the voice spoke.

"I hope your girlfriend's not the jealous type," it said, sounding like the speaker was facing me rather than speaking over its shoulder. "Otherwise she'd probably be upset at the way you've been staring at my butt."

Girlfriend? I honestly didn't know what to call… whatever this situation was.

"No embarrassed stuttering reply," the voice said, as the suit paused at a door. "Either that means you don't know if she'd be jealous, or you don't know if she's your girlfriend. Usually when outfits or invisible girls bring guys here it means they're a couple." The suit turned the doorknob but didn't push the door open right away. "I hope you didn't just get yourself in trouble," it said, then opened the door.

The corridor we were in opened into what must have been an office at one time. I only got a couple seconds to get my bearings before a group rounded a corner. It was Sheila, her new outfit, and a couple of items I'd expected her to be interested in picking up.

Leading the group and carrying a tablet was an outfit that consisted, from what I could see, of a white long-sleeved button-down dress shirt, draped over another black sheer mesh top, and tight gray jeans, over black walking shoes. I say "draped" because only the bottom two buttons of the shirt were closed, apparently so onlookers could see as much of the mesh top as possible. It would have been nothing short of scandalous in a standard office setting, with a visible body on display inside it, but this was anything but standard.

Next to the leader was a freestanding pair of gray jeans that, from my perspective, seemed fairly identical to the ones the leader was wearing.

And only now did I see that the "tight black pants" of Sheila's new outfit was actually dark-patterned leggings. The outfit waved at me; I waved back, looking nervously at Sheila’s athletic suit.

She had managed to pick up a couple of accessories. There were now filled-out gloves just past the ends of her sleeves, with a pattern matching the suit. They placed a baseball cap hovering above her empty collar as if there were a head there, with colors and pattern that also matched the athletic suit.

"Is this him?" I heard an unfamiliar voice ask. I assumed it was more for my benefit than Sheila's, since I hadn't seen or heard any sign of other visitors in this facility.

I didn't hear any response, but it had to be obvious. I didn't know what to expect, but I didn't expect the jeans to walk up to me, sauntering with all the confidence in the world.

They stopped right in front of me. I kept looking from Sheila, who stayed with the group, to the jeans. Finally I looked right at the jeans, which did a slow but purposeful 360-degree turn right in front of me. They stepped a bit closer, then leaned forward as a voice came from the direction of the jeans and very softly said, "So whaddaya think?"

It was Sheila’s voice. I jumped a little, and Sheila laughed outright. The three outfits were jumping and clapping, while Sheila’s voice cracked up laughing. But you know the way people sometimes stagger around while they’re laughing wildly? The empty jeans were doing that. But only for a few moments, before the three outfits approached.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Sheila said, her voice now coming from the outfit she wore when we left my apartment, “but I couldn’t resist.” The mesh shirt outfit was still shaking from soundless laughter, while the third outfit, that of their apparent tour guide, extended an empty sleeve toward me.

“Hi,” her voice said, still chucking. “I’m Andrea. I run this place, and I’m the one that set up the little show you’re about to see.”

“And the one I just saw?” I said, fighting a smile as I shook Andrea’s unseen hand and stared at the filled-out sheer top inside the white button-down. Sheila began laughing again, her sleeves around the mesh shirt outfit as if for support. Andrea chuckled. Even the empty jeans, which were once again standing between Andrea and the new mesh shirt outfit, were shaking with unheard laughter.

Then, a bit of strangeness: As I saw Sheila’s black and pink outfit leaning on the new mesh shirt outfit, and heard her laughter, I also heard what sounded like her voice whispering in my ear.

“Sorry, babe,” the voice said. “I had an idea to play a trick on you, and Andrea was willing to play along. She moved to my hat for a couple of seconds, letting her outfit and my two act on their own while I switched to the jeans.”

That set my mind spinning for a moment. Was Sheila actually whispering in my ear at the same time her voice coming from the black outfit was laughing out loud? And if Andrea was “in” Sheila’s hat, and Sheila was in the empty jeans, does that mean the three outfits were… autonomous at the moment?

“Is this Sheila I’m talking to?” I said, looking at Andrea quizzically.

“Yes it is,” the voice whispered. “Once I’ve had some practice with this, I won’t have to whisper.”

“Hold on -- so what you’re telling me is, if you left your outfit for the jeans, and Andrea left her outfit for your outfit’s hat, then… all three outfits were… free agents when you played your trick?”

“Yup,” Sheila said. “I just had an idea and thought I’d try it out.”

But before I could follow that train of thought…

“Did you get lost out there?” Andrea said jovially, to me.

“Well, I didn’t go anywhere,” I said. “I was standing in the same spot where I’d gotten out of the limo, looking around, when--”

“When I came up and gave him something else to look at,” the zentai suit said, giggling.

“Really?” Sheila said, having regained her composure. “You like zentai?”

“I like anything wrapped around that fine form of yours,” I said, glancing the zentai suit’s way. “But yeah, I do like zentai.”

“OK,” Andrea said, tapping away on her tablet with invisible fingers. “We can add a few zentai outfits to the list.”

“Sheila, you said we were going to a store,” I said. “This is more like a private fashion show, I’m thinking.”

“Can I cut in here?” Andrea said, turning toward Sheila. Her cap, and presumably the head-form beneath it, nodded.

“Well, I’m sure you know that Sheila’s new at… well, everything,” Andrea started. “And even though girls like us are becoming more common, some newer girls like Sheila here are more comfortable in… more controlled situations, whereas an old pro would have no issue going into a department store and making a whole section start line dancing.”

“You just made that up, right?” I ask, looking at Andrea’s empty collar.

“Are you serious?” Andrea says. “That happened just two days ago.” Andrea turned toward Sheila and continued, “Wow, you must really be keeping him busy for him to have missed that.”

Sheila giggled. “Not busy the way you’re thinking, but yeah it’s been an eventful few days.”

“Um, I hate to break up the meet-and-greet,” the zentai suit said, “but aren’t we supposed to be putting on a show?”

“Yes, we are,” Andrea answered. “And since you and the jeans are already here, Z, you get to be first up.” Andrea turned toward some stacked chairs, and four of them floated from the stack one at a time, coming to rest just behind where we were standing. Andrea, Sheila, her new outfit, and I all sat down as the overhead lighting shifted to highlight an open area just in front of us. Sheila’s black mesh outfit turned toward Sheila and moved its sleeves.

“Good idea,” Sheila said. The outfit walked over, pointing at me with one glove-hand and patting the seat it had just vacated with the other, as Sheila said, “She thinks you should sit between us. Just in case, you know?”

I didn’t know, but I went along, staring right at the outfit’s chest as I sat. The outfit obliged my stare by backing into the seat I had just moved from. I couldn’t believe that Sheila didn’t have any jealousy over the attention I was showing other outfits.

And, speaking of attention, what would happen when we got back home? Sheila would be “returning” to Pinkie, I’d assume, so what happens with the black and pink outfit? Sheila had already noted on the ride over that it was getting less attention than the new black mesh outfit...

The presentation that could loosely be described as a fashion show was great. Sheila opened my eyes to the idea that clothes might want to look different just as much as we solids sometimes do. And wow she likes all kinds of clothes -- the zentai suit was an immediate standout. She picked the one that greeted me, plus an identical one with an attached hood, plus the same hooded-and-hoodless combo in orange, neon pink, white, and one that I can only describe as looking like it was in an explosion at a paint factory. She tried to get me to commit to buying myself one in the future -- they even offered to have one model itself for me right there -- but I had to mull that one over first…

The other mesh-shirt-and-tube-top combos were a big hit also. In each case, the tube top matched the color of the pattern on the leggings, plus there was a multicolored tube top that could go with any of the leggings. She also got leggings to match the color of each of the tube tops.

She picked up a few bodycon dresses in different lengths, plus a few t-shirt dresses. With each item she chose, I wondered about both payment and storage. How was I gonna pay for all this stuff -- why didn’t I work that out before we made this trip? -- and where were we gonna put it all? But that’s when Andrea made an offer.

“You know, fairly often when solid women, or guys -- we don’t judge -- shop at one of our locations for the first time, they find that they have issues with where to put all the new items. Even if the new clothing is content to stay put at home when they’re not being worn -- and you might be surprised at how many are not -- self-aware clothes like to be able to have the space to move around, and not having to stay cooped up in a closet or drawer. We keep a database of houses and suites that become available, so that buyers with suddenly expanded wardrobes will have the space for all their new purchases.”

“We?” I repeated. “I’m sorry, but who is ‘we’?”

“You mean you didn’t tell him?” Andrea said, turning toward Sheila.

“Believe it or not, he didn’t ask,” Sheila said. “I had expected to have that conversation before now, but it never really came up.”

“Alright then,” Andrea said, turning back to me, “let me ask you this: where did you think the other clothes she had picked up before today came from?”

I shrugged. I really hadn’t given it any thought. “Clothing donation bins, maybe?”

“Actually, that’s not so uncommon,” Andrea said, “but it’s usually solid women who become invisible and don’t really have any support that turn to swiping things from donation bins, clotheslines, dryers, whatever’s available. But even when a woman has some support from family or friends, the growing wardrobe becomes a payment issue. A storage issue, too, when they don’t have their own place, which is quite often. But we actually have some very generous and very loaded benefactors who have made it possible that someone who has a rapidly expanding and/or autonomous wardrobe can make new living arrangements so they don’t feel crowded out of their homes. Not only that, but there are a range of payment systems in place so that, say, an outfit that doesn’t have her own income doesn’t have to induce some poor guy or girl to go broke paying for everything.”

I know my face brightened, because I felt like the whole place had just gotten brighter. “You mean, I don’t have to worry about--” I stopped, running out of words.

“Anything, really, related to what you’re doing here today,” Andrea said. “We can arrange a new home, or storage space if that’s what you’re interested in, and you won’t have to pay for the new space or for Sheila’s new freedom of expression.”

“Wow. How do you get rich folks to pay for housing for animated clothes?” I said, not thinking about how any of my audience might react to my choice of words.

Andrea just chuckled. “You’d be surprised. People make donations to nonprofits with no idea just what happens to all that money. Ditto governments. I’m sure you saw Independence Day?” We all chuckled at that. “Well, besides crazy-expensive hammers and toilet seats, some of that money goes towards ‘experimentation.’ “ I’m sure if Andrea'd had a face she would have been smirking at that. But she continued. “Rich folks realize they can’t spend all that money so they donate to all kinds of causes. ‘Empowering women’ is a big one these days. Who says the ‘women’ can’t be made of cloth?”

Again we all laughed. Then the zentai suit added, “Believe it or not, sometimes even clothes that make their own money contribute to the welfare of the others.”

“Really?” I said. “How does that happen?”

“I’m sure you’ve seen the Youtube videos,” Andrea said. “Invisible man does this, ghost does that. Some of those aren’t just video tricks. And the really popular channels make ad money. Plus some clothes and other items even manage to work in Hollywood or wherever they can make money just being who or what they are and doing what they do.”

“OK, so how does that connect to buying clothes and paying rent?”

“Autocharge,” Andrea and the zentai suit said at the same time, then laughed. Andrea continued, “Those who earn, donate, while those who need can apply for help. But it’s not like applying for a grant, because the need is usually ongoing. That’s how we’ll be able to set you, Sheila, and all her new friends up in a nice house with plenty of space for everyone to stretch out.”

Sheila stepped over to me. “How does that sound? We actually don’t need it right this second, but the offer’s being made, and we will need it before long. I don’t want you scrambling to pay my way, and I’m really not sure how we’d manage a new place if we didn’t take this offer.”

“I guess you’d have to make Youtube haul videos,” I said, smiling. “I’m sure that would make money even if we charged a subscription fee.”

“You kiddin?” Andrea said, before Sheila had a chance to reply. “With that shape, and especially with that butt, you could make money just charging people to watch her walk by.”

Z made tongue-clucking sounds, then said, “That wasn’t very professional, boss. And you were doing so well lately.”

“Ha!” replied Andrea. “Says the zentai suit that walked right up to Sheila here and, instead of showing herself off, said, ‘Just take me home with you. I want to wrap myself around those curves.’”

“You got a special one, there, fella,” Z said to me, instead of addressing Andrea's reply. “How could you have any doubts?”

Sheila turned toward me. “Doubts?” she said. “About what?”

I groaned a bit, wishing for a split second that there were eyes on the zentai suit for me to glare at, and at the same time glad there weren’t.

Z, for her part, was apologetic. “I’m sorry, sorry, sorry! I wasn’t trying to start anything or get into your business. I just told him when I was leading him to this room that I hoped you weren’t the jealous type, after the way he was staring at my butt.”

“So?” Sheila replied. “I had already seen that bouncy red butt of yours when you marched up to me and told me to take you home. Once I do, he'll be staring at it plenty, plus you’ll get your wish to be wrapped around my shape. No harm done.”

“Um, sorry for being awkward, folks," Andrea said. "It’s just that we don’t get too many clothes in here looking for more clothes. They’re around, but for whatever reason they haven’t been coming here. I guess they make other arrangements. Our customers are usually solids, invisible or intangible women, holograms, the occasional shapeshifter or zentai outfit. and so on. You know, someone or some-thing separate from the clothes. I’m guessing an outfit that can somehow switch itself into other outfits and leave the original outfit with ability to move on its own gets all our imaginations going.”

"Sure doing a number on mine," I piped up, to laughter all around. Though I had already started to wonder if “clothes” was really a fitting label for Sheila...

"Hold on, everyone," Sheila said, the bill of her cap turning from outfit to outfit. "Remember I still don't know how I'm… well, alive. I have no idea what's around the corner. I've never worn anything that was already able to talk; in fact, when I switched to this outfit today it was my first switch. I don't even know what happens when I switch out."

"Wanna see if we can find out now?" Andrea asked.

"Sure," Sheila said, shrugging. "What do you think, hon?"

It took me a couple of seconds to realize "hon" meant me. But, to be honest, I hadn't given the nuts and bolts of the situation a whole lot of thought. But I was curious…

"Sure, why not?" I said. "I wanna know too."

"OK," Andrea said, "what do you need?"

"Just a pair of gloves should do," Sheila said.

"That's all?" Z asked.

"Actually, one would do. Anything that's not already part of me."

A pair of thin black leather gloves hovered limply from behind some boxes and cane to rest in front of Sheila. They moved as if being pulled over invisible hands, opened and closed their fingers a couple of times, then immediately reached for Sheila's chest.

"No-no," Andrea scolded. Sheila, for her part, didn't make a sound. "We just want you to help us with something."

The gloves turned themselves palms up, with fingers splayed. All the clothes recognized that as the gloves asking "what?"

"I need you to hold part of me," Sheila started. As soon as the gloves drifted a bit closer to Sheila's chest, she replied, "but not that part."

She dug a sleeve into one of her pockets, with the rolled up drawstring from Pinkie hovering a few inches from the sleeve opening when she held it in front of her.

"This drawstring came from my original outfit," Sheila said. "As far as I can tell, this is how I was able to transfer myself into this outfit. Would you please hold this for me?"

Each glove gave a thumbs-up, then cupped themselves together so the athletic suit could drop Sheila’s drawstring.

No one was quite sure of what would happen next. After a few seconds of silence, I looked at the space between the hovering cap and the empty collar beneath it and said, "Hello."

The shirt waved a sleeve at me. It occurred to me that maybe Sheila should have asked for two pairs of gloves.

"Can you hear me?" The cap nodded, as I expected it to. That nod also answered the next question, but I asked anyway. "Can you speak?" Long silence, then it shook back and forth.

Then, on a whim, I looked at the looped drawstring in the hovering gloves and said, "How about you?"

"Of course I can speak," Sheila's voice said. "I'm still me, after all. In fact I was about to ask the suit when you spoke up."

"OK, but I have one more question for your outfit. You're basically the same as you were before, am I correct?" The cap nodded.

Then it was Sheila's turn. "Do you actually remember anything from when I was… you?"

The cap moved, mostly up and down, but it was an irregular motion, similar to our own head motions when we speak. I knew what was happening, but not what was being said.

"Can someone take pity on the poor solid," I said, "and tell me what she said?"

Laughter all around. "She said she remembers everything," Sheila said.

I gulped. "Everything?" Sure I kissed her (well, I kissed Sheila) but I rubbed her chest and palmed her butt unbidden too.

"Ev-er-y-thing," Sheila repeated. "After Pinkie concludes her business with you, and I get resituated, then it's her turn."

"OK," Z piped up, "now who's Pinkie?"

"My original outfit," Sheila said. "She told me she'd be waiting for him when our shopping was done. You’ll see her and the others soon."

The black athletic outfit reached for the drawstring but the gloves separated, no longer acting as one pair of hands. One glove hovered away from the suit, holding the drawstring between two of its fingers, while the other glove began rubbing its fingertips up and down the suit's chest.

"OK," Sheila said, sounding a little exasperated, "I'm a little disappointed my clothes aren't trying harder to get me back."

The mesh shirt outfit that rode in the limo with us stepped over to the free leather glove, holding out its own glove-hands to retrieve its owner before things got… out of hand.

The leather put the drawstring in the new outfit's gloves, then took a cue from its mate and began caressing the shapely outfit.

"If only these gloves would be-have," Sheila's muffled voice called out from the mesh-covered hand-forms wrapped around her drawstring, "they might get a chance to play with a lot more clothes."

Immediately each glove hovered away from the outfit it was fondling, leaving the mesh shirt outfit free to take a couple of steps toward the athletic outfit that been housing Sheila.

“No, don’t do that,” Sheila’s voice said. The mesh shirt outfit stopped and opened its hands, giving the impression of looking at the drawstring in its gloves. “Put me in your pocket this time,” Sheila said to her outfit. Not having pockets, the outfit pulled its leggings away from the unseen form giving it a figure and dropped the drawstring inside itself, and immediately Sheila had a more familiarly-shaped form again.

I looked over at the black and pink outfit, and detected just the slightest bit of a slouch, the closest empty clothes can come to pouting. I walked over to the outfit and put my arm around its waist. “You’ll get your chance again, don’t worry,” I said.

The outfit moved a sleeve behind my head and pulled me into a kiss. From my perspective, it was not much different than from when Sheila had worn the outfit. Except…

“Oh now that I switched outfits,” Sheila's voice said from the mesh shirt outfit, “You wanna kiss!” Everyone else laughed.

I broke the kiss and then turned to Sheila's new outfit. “Come on, she pulled me into it!”

“After you grabbed her by the waist!” Sheila shot back. Sheila didn't know I wanted to grab the suit by her butt...

I tried to defend myself. “I didn’t grab her, exactly, I just…” I turned to the other clothes.

“Come on, you all saw how she pouted when Sheila chose her new outfit. Didn’t you?” Suddenly they were all busy in conversation, spoken or unspoken.

“You know I’m just playin’,” Sheila said as she approached me. “Like I keep telling you, we’re all clothes. My clothes. It’s all good.”

Before I could respond, there was a ding sound of a motion detector, then the faint sounds of motorcycles revving. Were bikers about to invade?