The Girl On The Bicycle

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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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Comments

There's always a spaniel

Some tosser always throws a spaniel in the works to upset our plans. To quote; "Infamy! Infamy! They've all got it infamy!"

Very nicely done, Ang; keeping the 'cut the grass' until the very end.

S.

Nice Turn.

People see what they want when they want to see it. As usual your stories are fun to read and expertly presented than you for a good read.
Huggles
Michele

With those with open eyes the world reads like a book

celtgirl_0.gif

Liked it

Good idea & well written , I hope this one goes on a bit it has some great directions already .... my favorite is the pic of the bike >>>>> It has pedals on it ROFL

I hate James already

why is it that men don't have no on their vocabulary?
Great story Ang, I hope we get to see more of Zoe.

It's not that they don't get 'no'...

...It's that they really can't take a hint. I mean really. You do have to spell things out for them or they're not going to get it.

Granted there are people (men and women) who don't take no for an answer, but I don't James is one of these. You see, Zoe never actually told him no. She hinted at it a lot, and tried to get around him, but she never once told him no. Now, if she'd actually said no, and then he still came back for more, he is persistent, but not necessarily an ass.

It's only at that point that there is a no and he takes what he wants that he enters evil. Course, there are no shortage of those types. Unfortunately.



He entered the hall to get warm. She left it two hundred years later.
Faeriemage

No, that's not it either...

It's that they don't recognize the hint when it hauls of and runs them over. (Okay, it's not restricted to the masculine half of the species. Many of us are hint challenged. Others of us see hints when they're not there.)

I did expect the name switch at the end... What I'm still not sure of is whether Zoe is a guy or John is a girl...

Thanks,
Annette

alas, I'm one of the

Brooke Erickson's picture

alas, I'm one of the terminally hint challenged. And I understand why folks fear being blunt, but when you get right down to it, it's *lot* more embarrassing the find out that people have been trying to tell you something that to have them just come out and (politely & discretely) *say* it.

Brooke brooke at shadowgard dot com
http://brooke.shadowgard.com/
Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls
It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world
"Lola", the Kinks

Ignoring hints

In the game of dear chasing, ignoring hints often pays dividends. By the same token, some like to play 'hard to get.' Without reading minds, how is one to know what the other really wants?

Just as there are times when someone's persistence is annoying, there are other times when a potential SO 'takes the hint' and walks away.

The games people play...

The Girl On The Bicycle

Wonder what James'd think? Is John a crossdresser, in transition?

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Just Being "Friendly"!

joannebarbarella's picture

We've all met people like that! In fact I feel one coming now. Oh, look. He was kind enough to send a picture,

Joanne

Hint challenged.

Lot's of us are 'hint challenged'. I'm seriously hint challenged but after a few metaphorical, bloody social noses,during my late teens and early twenties whilst clubbing when ashore in Liverpool I learned not to make approaches. Scouse judies have a cruel and cutting wit and I soon learned to mind my own business.

Consequently I was one of the earliest 'single dancers' who just bopped alone on the dancefloor in clubs in Liverpool including the Cavern. (Yeah, a right misfit and wierdo.) Women only came on to me when looking to buy genuine, american, wrangler jeans. That also made me a bit more cynical about women as if I wasn't cynical enough.

The crazy thing is that today, a 66-year-old-tranny dancing alone to the club beat today, is more acceptable in clubs than a single teenager was 45 to 50 years ago. Now, even though I tend to keep myself to myself when dancing, I get constant approaches by girls wanting to just dance and chat. They invariably follow me back to my tranny friends just to carry on the inquisition.

Now I just don't care and I get on with growing old disgracefully.

Michelle's night out Old Library..jpg

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