Motoring along the main road towards the town centre she found herself watching a cyclist ahead. It was a foul day, with driving wind and rain, but the cyclist was bowling along at high speed. As she approached from behind she was able to observe him at close quarter.
“Nice body,” she thought as she followed along. She slowed slightly so as not to overtake him. “Lovely little bum, and those pumping legs...”
He must have been piling along at nearly thirty, but he made it made it look effortless, his mop of floppy light brown hair streaked back by the rush of air. His position in front of her now meant she could look and drive safely.
Although Linda was able to enjoy the view for a while, the long sound of a car horn from close behind brought her attention back to her driving. There was now a small queue of vehicles building. Reluctantly she indicated and passing the cyclist, picked up speed.
About a mile on, she approached the roundabout outside the town centre. The traffic slowed and began to back up. She dropped speed and stopped. She took a moment to glance up in her mirror to see if the boy was still on the main road, but there was just a large white van behind her car now. So it was to her delight when she looked across at her passenger side wing mirror and noticed him approaching quickly in the gap between the vehicles and the pavement. He was having to weave a little to get past, but was making gradual progress.
Then as the car in front moved forward, Linda had an idea. She pulled her steering wheel down to the left and moved her car in towards the kerb. She looked around again and noticed the lad was slowing further. Then as the car in front of hers was turning left, she moved her car forward again and blocked his way. The bike drew up alongside her, close to the left hand side and he had to stop. He was right next to her car.
She looked to her left again. All she could observe now were his bare forearms and right thigh about a foot from her passenger side window. His arms were stretched forward to grip the handle bar; his leg pulled up and ready to press down on his pedal. He was poised and taut. His skin was wet, smooth and slippery. A mixture, she thought, of rain and sweat. It almost shone n the light. He was clearly soaked through but seemed unfazed by it.
Then the lights in front changed to red. There was another surge of traffic on to the island from the right. The boy visibly relaxed, released his grip on the bars and leant back on his saddle. She turned again in his direction. She couldn’t see much above his middle because of the height of the window. Then reaching down he pulled his top up to mop his face. That move delighted her.
It was now clear he wore nothing underneath his sweatshirt. She was granted an unobstructed view of a flat, smooth toned stomach. She noticed a slight trace of damp fuzzy hair above the top of his tight, black cycling shorts, at the front.
“Gosh,” she mused, “what I would give to touch that.”
She carried on staring whilst he wiped his face. The lights changed again, but for Linda they changed too soon. Just as quickly he dropped the top down, leant forward on the bars and was ready to move off when she did.
She looked again, admiring the view. “Mmmmmm.”
A sharp horn blast from the white van behind her brought her attention back to her driving. Disorientated by his looks, she panicked. The car lurched forward and stalled.
Another horn blast from white van man.
Fumbling to restart her car, she was still half watching the cyclist as he eased pass her. She had the car moving again, but now only to see his tight swaying backside disappear into the distance as he headed off for a side street.
After a little recreational shopping, Linda continued her journey. The weather had cleared, and in a few minutes she arrived at Dorothy’s. She was there for morning coffee and to discuss their plans at the club.
She parked and collected a bag from the boot. Slamming it down, she walked towards the front door.
You might imagine then her surprise when there, propped against the front wall, was a jet black slim line bicycle. It looked familiar, very familiar. Then she realized it was the one she had seen earlier that day, the same one that the rather toothsome youth had been on, last seen peddling away on.
“Hmmm,” she thought. “What a strange thing. What a delightful co-incidence,” she murmured to herself.
She rang the bell. From the other side of the porch a grinning and apron wearing Dot appeared. “I’ve just put the scones in the oven, this morning. They should be ready soon”
“Hello, Dorothy, I see you’ve got a new bicycle,” said Linda, indicating the bike.
“Oh no, that’s not mine. I haven’t ridden a bike in ages. That’s Jonathans.”
Linda’s mind was whirring. “Who was Jonathan?” she thought.
“You remember him? He’s a lot bigger these days. Now he wants to earn some money,” Dorothy explained.
Linda’s mind hadn’t stopped whizzing. Suddenly the penny dropped. She realized that the boy on the bike earlier had been none other than Jonathan, son of a mutual friend at the club. Now she was intrigued. She went in determined to steer the conversation around to him.
The coffee was ready in the front living room and they sat down.
“Sorry I’m late, Dorothy, only I was a bit pushed in the downpour, the weather has been so bad.” She took a sip.
“I know what you mean. The traffic in town has been horrendous. People stop walking and start driving everywhere as soon as there’s a bit of rain,” said Dorothy
“Well, yes, but not everyone. There are still a few hardy souls out in all weathers.” She picked up a piece of shortbread. She didn’t admit that she had seen Jonathan but continued, “There was a lad on a bike this morning in fact, even in those heavy showers. He looked like the weather didn’t trouble him at all,” said Linda.
“I do think there’s something quite nice about driving along behind a fit young man on a bicycle; it sort of cheers me up,” she added.
“What does it do for him?” asked Dorothy, surprised by what she had said.
“Oh, he doesn’t know I’m there.” Linda laughed.
“Oh, so you’re stalking him?”
“I suppose I am.” She smiled dirtily.
Dorothy wondered if it had been Jonathan whom she was referring to, though as she had never actually seen him cycling herself, she couldn’t be sure.
Linda sipped her coffee quietly, now a little embarrassed by her own admission. Dorothy spoke about her week.
After a while, the conversation paused.
“So where is your new helper?” Linda asked, having tried to suppress her interest in his whereabouts for the last fifteen minutes.
“He’s out in the back garden now it’s dried up a bit, come and see,” said Dot.