Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad.
Part 11.

With all the banter and suggestive remarks being made during the drive, I had no idea where we were as we sped through the countryside. Had it not been for my distrust of Simon, I could have found the journey pleasurable. The seats were very comfy and supported me in all the right places, there was very little wind or engine noise and the CD player was excellent. Simon had a copy of Madeleine Peyroux on his player, and it was wonderful bluesy, jazzy, and just brilliant.

We actually talked about it without any fencing and without him trying to 'pull'. It seemed we had one thing in common, which I suppose was better than nothing.

Eventually he steered the car into a car park belonging to The Jolly Roger public house and restaurant. It seemed Pirates of the Caribbean had a lot to answer for. Despite the fact that it was early evening and getting cool there were children playing in the themed beer garden, racing around and screaming like demented souls, one or two of the boys waving plastic cutlasses.

It took me back to another memory, where instead of identifying with the hero of a film I found myself cast as the heroine by some friends who were boys. Their intention was to humiliate me as well as give them a focus for their game, and I suppose it played into my hands too. I had no taste for being Indiana Jones or James Bond, I was happy to fantasise I was Barbara Bach or Michelle Pfeiffer. However, if it wasn't my idea, then I bore no responsibility for being 'coerced into the role', it was a nice loophole. I was just a wimpish kid who was forced to pretend he was a girl because of threats of violence from his peers.

One of the boys, Malcolm Bragg, who was always called, 'Melvin' after the writer and broadcaster, threatened to bring one of his sister's old dresses and make me wear it but he either never remembered or it was an empty threat.

"We're here," said Stella nudging me out of my reverie. She helped me out of the car and arm in arm we walked across the car park, our heels clicking on the tarmac. "Thought you might like some support in those boots," she whispered as we walked. I nodded an emphatic yes.

Simon held the door open and we went into the "Davy Jones'Lounge" the atmosphere was placcy and tacky, with plastic beams every where and windows made up as port-holes or gun ports. Stella and I sat as he asked what we wanted to drink. I was tempted to ask for red wine, but decided after the previous episode I'd have something different. I went for a Bacardi and Coke, Stella asked for a Buck's Fizz, Simon went off to get them.

"Don't take too much notice of my brother, he thinks he's God's gift to women. He also fancies anything in skirts."

"He'd get a surprise under mine," I smiled back, then blushed at the thought of it.

"I'm not sure that would put him off, if he got that far although he might have to improvise."

"He wouldn't be the only one," I whispered back.

"Talk normally, you have a light voice, it's quite okay, perhaps if you raised the pitch at the end of a sentence, like the Aussies do, it would sound even more feminine." Stella then gave me an example and I promised to try it as the evening wore on.

"I've ordered a table for 8.00pm, they've quite a good menu here and because my bonus came through last week, you can order anything you want."

"Oh yummy!" said Stella licking her lips, "can I have scallops then?"

"I just said you could," reiterated Simon raising his eyebrows, "sisters! You don't have any do you Cathy?"

"No, I have a brother, they're even worse," I threw in as much for devilment as anything. I didn't actually have any siblings, which now may not be such a bad thing as it would be someone else to explain things to.

I've been told that men like to talk about themselves, and that they are better at talking than listening - ring any bells? So I thought I'd run a little experiment, I'd prime Simon with the odd question about himself or his opinions and see what happened. I wondered if I could get him to talk all night. I was tempted to involve Stella in my little game, but then I'd need opportunity to bring her in, so maybe I'd use it as a test of my feminine ingenuity and work on my own.

I got him to talk about his job, a commodities buyer for a merchant bank, whatever that was. It paid handsomely even if he'd had to sell his soul to get it. He talked and I kept him going on what was nearly a monologue. I noticed Stella watching us and smiling to herself.

My plan was working and she was aware of it, or I thought she was. Simon went to get himself another pint. "This is the first time you've been out in company?" she asked looking perplexed.

"Yes, why? Don't you believe me?"

"You are charming him out of his socks, you do realise that don't you?"

"I'm just trying to keep him happy," I offered back.

"Oh he's happy all right, and he'll want another date with you."

"Oh my God!" I felt myself growing hotter and redder, "He won't will he?"

"I'm willing to bet a tenner that he asks for your phone number."

"Oh Jeez!" my heart felt like it would stop with embarrassment.

"Would you like to come through to the restaurant ladies?" said the man in the dinner jacket. I presumed he was the head waiter or something.

With some difficulty I rose to my feet, my legs and back were stiffening up from the accident. I picked up my glass of drink and Simon who was coming across the room, stepped well away from me. I blushed again.

Stella came to my rescue and we strolled arm in arm into the, 'Captain's Table' restaurant. She felt me stiffen as we went through the door, "You okay?" she whispered.

"Those two over the other side, they're on the same course as me." I felt my legs growing heavy and had difficulty walking.

"Come on, they won't recognise you like this," she smirked.

"What if they do?"

"Tell them it's a practice run for next week."

"What happens next week?" I asked, still feeling queasy.

"You come out of the closet and get a date with Simon." She sniggered at my discomfort.

"If they find out, I'll just die," I whimpered.

"Carry on like this and they'll notice something odd about you, act like you own the place and they'll fancy you but leave you in peace."

"You sure,"

"Trust me, I'm a nurse," she sniggered.

"Oh shit, why did I have to ride out this way today?" I almost appealed to the gods, but they were on supper break, knowing my luck.

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