We chatted some more, he told me stories about when he was at school with Simon and Stella, she was a bit later and they didn't have much contact, but she nearly got herself expelled when she was found out to have put glue in the gymshoes of her PE teacher, with whom she'd had an argument. The poor woman couldn't get them off for a week.

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad,
part:194

I stood in front of my mother's dressing table mirror and gazed at my body. In the tight black lace knickers, nothing could be seen of my dangly bits. My hips looked a reasonable shape and my slim waist was in good shape too. Above it stood my breasts, perky and exaggerated by the matching black booster bra.

A black lacy suspender belt completed the set, but I opted to leave that off, after all no one but me was going to see it and my stay up stockings were more comfortable, at least for a few hours. After that the rubbery stuff that gripped the skin made me itchy and brought up a red weal. Some of my cycle shorts had similar rubbery strips on the hems of the legs, wearing them for any length of time had a similar outcome.

So there I was dressed like a courtesan in sexy undies and high heeled black shoes, feeling pleased with myself. My makeup and hair looked good too. I slipped the slinky dress with its wrapover top carefully over my head so as not to disturb my hair, then tied the back ties into a loose knot behind me, pulling the material taut around my toned waist.

My jewellery was the necklace and earrings my father had given me from the modest collection my mother had owned. I wasn't sure that it was appropriate to wear it while flirting with anyone other than Simon. Mum would not have approved of my behaviour, although I think she would have liked the dress.

It had a large paisley design in white on a black background, with the odd bit highlighted in silver, so it caught the light. It fitted like a glove and was comfortable to wear, it also washed easily and I was doubly pleased when I bought it for half price.

My pink painted nails shone in the light from the main lamp in the room as I clasped first my watch to my left wrist and then my silver bracelet to my right wrist. A couple of squirts of Coco and I was ready for my visitor.

It was about ten minutes to eight, I stood in the kitchen and made up a tray of bread and cheeses, with pickle and assorted salad stuff. I nearly died when there was a knock at the kitchen door.

"It's me Des," he called through the glass. He'd ridden his bike again and wanted it hidden from view.

"You frightened the life out of me," I said as I let him in.

He sniggered putting down his helmet and gloves, and continued doing so while he removed his shoes and jacket.

I watched him as he undressed and my body kept telling me it wanted him. I felt myself blushing and I returned to my salad. When I sneaked another look at his body, well through his cycling shirt, I saw he was standing grinning holding a bottle of Rioja. I smiled and handed him the corkscrew.

I heard the pop of the cork and placed the glasses on the tray. For some reason my mother always kept her wine glasses in the sideboard in the lounge. I had just removed two and placed them on the tray on the Parker Knoll coffee table.

Des swaggered in, handing me the bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. Damn, now I had to thank him. I accepted the gifts and pecked him on the cheek. With both my hands full, I couldn't prevent him from gently gripping my face in his hands and kissing me on the lips.

I pulled away gasping and blushing. He just laughed.

"You look lovely when you're angry," he said chuckling at my discomfort. The bastard knew I fancied him and also that I wouldn't allow myself to do anything about it, except flirt.

My body now richer in testosterone than it had been for a year or so was randy as hell. I felt something twitch in my groin but my panties held it safe. In two weeks things would be different down there, but for now they had to stay hidden and disguised.

He complimented me on my appearance, adding, "I hope you look as good in cycling togs, because we're riding tomorrow morning."

"Oh are we?" I said blushing with excitement and irritation. No body tells me what to do unless I let them, and I had just let him take the initiative.

"So why did you want to see me, other than to torment me with your luscious body?" he asked, settling down with a glass of the Spanish red wine.

"I wanted to ask for your help." I said blushing.

"What again?" he pretended to affect indignation.

"Yes again."

"Okay, what do you want?"

"In a couple of weeks I'm going to be tied up for a few weeks and won't be able to see my dad. I wondered if you could pop in to Southmead once or twice with a bottle of Scotch for him. He doesn't get too many visitors. If you're okay with it, then I'll introduce you before my admiss..., erm my indisposition." I blushed furiously.

"You're going into hospital?"

"Erm," blushing still redder, I took a sip of wine, which made me even hotter. "Erm, yes."

"Nothing serious I hope?"

"It is to me."

"Oh, the um," he whistled and made a scissors action with his fingers.

He knew, what the hell! I nodded.

"Good luck, if ever you need to test drive it, give me a shout." He winked and if it wasn't for the risk of staining the leather suite with wine, I'd have thrown a cushion at him.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay what?" I asked puzzled.

"Okay, I'll go and see your dad."

"Oh thanks. There was something else."

I explained about my ordeal earlier with Stevie's family. He looked angry.

"I was in college with a guy who got AIDS, it was awful. We were learning the art of documentary film making and he made one about dying from AIDS. It was a beautiful piece of work. He lived long enough to get his degree and an award for the best biographical film and best promising newcomer, but not long enough to see it shown on Channel four."

"How long ago was that?"

"Oh maybe five years ago. I have a copy on DVD, I'll copy it for you."

"Thanks."

"I get the impression that there's a shopping list."

"The Portsmouth Echo wants to do an interview with me. I don't know whether or not to do it."

"Do it, it's better to have them like you than dislike you. You can set up some parameters for your cooperation."

"What do you mean?"

"Like we did with the BBC, 'I won't talk about this or that, or if it's too personal or intrusive, I will refuse to answer. If it continues, I walk.' You need to assert some editorial authority or they'll do what they want."

"I don't know if I can, I get so nervous."

"You want me to set it up do you?"

"Well you are rather good at it," I batted my eyelashes at him.

"It's going to cost you."

"What, like an agent's fee?"

"No nothing as crude as money."

I wondered what he was talking about, then suddenly thought and blushed once more.

"I don't know...." I blushed even deeper and felt an embarrassed excitement. What was it with this guy that I couldn't get out of my head? I truly loved Simon and found him desirable too, but Des was something else and I didn't understand what it was.

"I'm an engaged wom..., well engaged anyway."

He seemed to enjoy my embarrassed confusion, grinning at me like a Cheshire cat.

"You're a woman alright Cathy, I wouldn't have a bulge like this in my pants for a boy, that's for sure."

I blushed redder still, if I got any hotter I had visions of my polyester/viscose knickers and bra, melting. A little rivulet of sweat ran down my back making me shiver involuntarily. He was loving every moment of this.

"You're a bastard Des."

"It's taken you a long time to work that out," he grinned.

I huffed as my response.

He tore off a piece of French stick and cut a triangle of cheese. I grabbed a stick of celery and began licking it before biting it savagely. Then blushed at what I was doing, geez, sending out strong signals that I can't fulfil, all the while the strength of the gusset of my knickers was being tested.

The rest of the supper was equally symbolic, although I found myself trying not to up the ante, tempting though it was. I suspect if anyone had been watching us, they'd have thought we were either in some corny comedy sketch of a poorly made French sex film.

I found my second glass of wine made me feel mellow and I began to relax rather than feel sexed up. I knew it would also make me less inhibited, but in the end as nothing happened, I suspect Des was teasing me as much as I was him.

"So what time are we riding tomorrow?" he asked.

"Who said I was riding at all?" I asked.

"I did, and you said you'd bring your bike. Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Strewth Cathy, don't you listen? Did you bring your bike with you?"

"When?"

"Don't piss me about girl," his face changed a little, time to stop teasing.

"What did you have in mind?"

"An hour or two's ride, why?"

"On our own?"

"Yeah, as far as I know. I can try and see what the club is doing."

"No thanks, I usually have time keeping up with slugs and snails."

"Okay, we are not racing just a nice ride and a chat, get a coffee somewhere."

"Okay. I have to warn you, I haven't ridden much for a while, so you'll have to be easy on me."

"Course I will."

We chatted some more, he told me stories about when he was at school with Simon and Stella, she was a bit later and they didn't have much contact, but she nearly got herself expelled when she was found out to have put glue in the gymshoes of her PE teacher, with whom she'd had an argument. The poor woman couldn't get them off for a week.

He went to the back door and dressed in all but his helmet, then he grabbed me suddenly and kissed me hard, forcing his tongue into my not too unwilling mouth. Then having taken my breath away, he grabbed his helmet and left.

"Bastard!" I said loudly, savouring his kiss.