It was a bright, sunny day in early January. I had just come back from a work trip to the Capital which was productive but the weather had been awful. My flight bag had been accompanied by a chilly bag from Le Gourmet containing 1kg each of Grey Slate Venison, sausages, and mince. Half was for my freezer, the rest for friends. It also contained a 600g Valley Bakery Rye and Multi-Seed and some Le Chocolat single-origin bars.
My life was going well. I had a good job and was fit. I had a nine-month-old house that I had co-designed and supervised the build. Its garden was in full bloom and veg growing well and ending on my table.
I had a quiet post run evening planned. Sausages from the cache were thawing to be fried and served with beans from the garden and mash. A can from the recently acquired Waste not, We want it range from Hal Brew awaited and a fresh Flight magazine from the library awaited my eager attention.
I had plenty of friends and while there was nobody currently in my love life, it was a case of if a door was open, I would put my head around to check it out, but I wasn't into trying closed doors. Nor was I particularly keen on going through a door for a short period of time.
I was out running on the waterfront when I thought I saw a familiar female outline ahead, but in different clothes than I'd seen her before.
I caught up to the lady and, as I thought, it was Sam who also goes to The Dog 5k run in the city intermittently. We had chatted casually when we met there, but never saw each other outside of the run. There was also an implicit rule that the only number you asked for was finish times. We knew each other's preferences: Sam liked to start fast, I started slow but built up over the distance, but it's a large group so we knew each other's [run] times and [running] interests, but not that much else.
Sam was quite surprised to see me and I replied likewise - the waterfront is busy with runners and walkers, but I seldom see someone I know despite living nearby for twenty years.
I said that I didn't recognise her clothes, as Sam was wearing a sports bra that was doing a good job of capturing her bust and some tight running shorts. Sam said the clothes were new: her flatmate Kate had just come back from a work trip to LA, had hit an outlet mall and had brought a haul home for them both as she was a similar size to Sam. I wanted to compliment her new clothes, but didn't want it to seem that I was hitting on her so I replied, "Kate made good choices." My dick was hardening at her choice in clothes.
She also said that it was too hot for her normal attire that I'd previously seen her in and she didn't recognise my tri-shorts and tri-top either, as I normally wear a singlet and normal shorts at the run and noted my "good choice" and playfully tapped my hand with hers which I reciprocated.
I said that I'd planned to go for a swim at the beach just before going home as I live nearby and I briefly accelerated to show my goggles in my top's pocket, then dropped back. Sam said, "Sounds like a good idea."
We realised we were heading out to Jersey Bay where I planned to turn. Sam was heading further up to Hood Lookout, so decided to run together and we started catching up about running.
Sam said that she hadn't seen me at The Dog much recently. I said that I had been down in the Capital for work last week and intermittently over the last few months. She asked how it was last week.
I replied sarcastically, "Mark Twain. All week. It was so bad for Dip and Dash, that we suited up and went up to our necks until briefing, then got hammered on the run with the winds."