The Girl On The Bicycle

The Girl on the Bicycle.
by Angharad

Copyright © 2012 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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The Girl on the Bicycle.
by
Angharad.

‘He’s chatting me up,’ Zoe thought to herself, she blushed and felt flattered simultaneously.

“Is that your Orbea, outside?” he asked her, “The black and white one, I mean.”

The fact that Zoe sported a black and white strip with the same manufacturer’s name was something of a hint. “Did you work that out by yourself?” she smiled back, her white teeth gleaming against her lightly tanned skin.

Ignoring her put down, he went into bike geek mode, “Kysyrium wheels then?”

“Yeah, so?” it was irritating her a little.

“They’re good wheels, how d’you get on with the Look pedals?”

“They were okay once we’d been formally introduced.”

“What? Oh yeah, sorry, James, Jimmy to my friends.” He offered his hand and she shook it.

“Zoe,” was all she offered.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked.

She shrugged, which he took as acceptable so drew out the chair and sat on it. “Toasted teacake,” called the waitress and Zoe raised a hand. “Your latte is on its way.” Zoe nodded to show she’d heard.

“Coffee and a toasted teacake, please,” James told the waitress who took his order. Zoe wondered if she’d abandon the snack and slip out the back way on the pretext of going to the loo, except she had her helmet with her and one never needs a helmet to go for a wee. Bugger, she was stuck with him.

Her coffee arrived as she spread the butter on her teacake, “Looks good,” he offered, while she just wondered why he had to sit with her when half the tables in the place were unoccupied. She knew she should have gone in the opposite direction. She swept a disobedient lock of hair from her face, it had obviously pulled out of her hair-band when she took her helmet off.

“Haven’t seen you here before?” he tried engaging her in conversation again. She wasn’t the prettiest girl he’d seen riding a bike, but then no one really compared to Victoria Pendleton in his mind. He looked at girl in the black and white strip. She had mousy fair hair, green eyes and freckles. She was no beauty , but then neither was he, although her mouth had a bit of a sensual quality about it, and he wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips, which currently were chomping on the teacake.

“No, I don’t usually ride this way.”

“My gain then.”

“What?” she looked bemused.

“Well if you hadn’t come this way, I wouldn’t have met you, would I?”

She looked at him as if he was crazy. “No–obviously–duh.”

“Sorry, I’m making rather a hash of this, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” she said biting off another mouthful of teacake.

His arrived so he could distract himself with his snack, he poured milk into his coffee. James was without girlfriend, they didn’t last long when they realised he preferred his bike to them. He’d never managed to find a girl who liked serious riding–fifty miles or more in a day.

“D’you race?”

“Trialling,” she offered between bites.

“Good for you. What distance?”

“Tens.”

“Not on that bike?”

“Not usually.” How could she tell him she didn’t ride her Orbea as often as she wished.

“What d’you ride for that?”

“A time trial bike.” She raised her eyebrows in exasperation.

‘His skin must be like a rhinoceros,’ she thought because he came straight back at her with no hesitation. “What make is it, the TT bike, I mean?”

“Specialized–why?”

“I wondered if Orbea did one, that’s all?”

“Not as far as I know.”

He munched his way through his teacake in double quick time. He liked the look of her and that she was spirited made the challenge even more fun.

She went off to the loo and he knew she’d be leaving soon–girls always go for a wee when about to leave anywhere. He quickly paid her bill as well as his own and then he dashed off to the toilet. When he got back she was in discussion about how her bill had been paid before she could settle it herself.

“This gentleman paid it,” said the waitress now behind the counter indicating James who stood behind Zoe.

“How much was it?” Zoe looked angry as she dug in a little purse she’d pulled from her pocket.

“Four pounds,” said the girl, “but it’s been paid.”

“Not by me,” said Zoe, holding out a five pound note.

“Please accept it as a treat,” said James.

“You should have asked me first,” complained Zoe.

“I will next time,” promised James.

Seeing as there was no way she would ever came back this way again, especially if he was there, Zoe eventually put her money away and grudgingly thanked her unwanted benefactor.

Then he was out at the bikes, “Which way are you going?” he asked.

Shit, this was all she needed–what was he blind? She kept giving him the old heave-ho and he keeps coming back for more. He watched her as she unlocked her bike, quickly undoing his own Cervelo. Her bike cost over three thousand, his frame probably cost more than that, however, she didn’t want to encourage further discussion, she wanted to leave preferably without Micky Dripping.

“Which way are you going?” she replied.

“I’m easy, c’mon, I’ll ride with you for a bit.” He offered.

“I’ll probably slow you down,” she threw back at him.

“If you do trials, I suspect it might be the other way round.”

“I’m not used to riding with other riders,” she protested.

“So this will be a treat then, won’t it.”

It began to look as if the only way she was going to get rid of him was to either tell him to piss off, or try to ride too far out of his way for him to stay. The problem with plan B, being she didn’t know which direction that would be.

In the end she opted to do a long circuit back towards her home, at least forty miles, so double the distance she meant to ride. ‘Why have men got to be such a pain?’ she mused.

“I hope you’re okay with a few miles,” she said and set off a brisk pace. He was soon behind her.

“I need a few miles in me today, don’t get out half often enough.” Zoe said nothing in reply but upped the pace a little. However, try as she might, he stayed alongside her or just behind. “This is wonderful, the best workout I’ve had for weeks.”

Two hours later, he handed her his business card, “Give me a shout sometime, I’ve got to get back, thanks for your company, Zoe. Please do call.” With that he shot past her and disappeared down the road, heading for her home town. ‘Bugger,’ she thought.

She felt hot and sweaty and had been out far longer than she intended, her neighbour would be back from work and bound to spot her before she could get the garage open and hide inside. She’d need to stop en route–damn James, damn him to hell.

Twenty minutes later she opened the garage and began to stow her bike, her neighbour came out to his as she anticipated. “Hi, Chris,” she called to him, swinging her bag off her shoulders.

“Oh hi, John, good ride?”



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