Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad.
part woman, part goddess, part 23.

"They're going to loan me a car and collect mine from the pub," said Simon poking his head through the open window of Stella's car, "So if Cathy would like to come with me, we'll go and get her bike before the garage gets there."

What could I do, he had me by the sprockets? I began to get out of Stella's car.

"Don't forget the stuff in the boot," she called.

I opened the boot and there was an overnight type of bag in there. "What's in here?" I asked.

"Your cycling stuff, what's left of it and the stuff I told you about earlier."

I lifted it out, it felt full and heavy. Simon grabbed it from me and walked off to another Volvo parked nearby. Stella got out of the car and we hugged. I thanked her for all her help, she shoved something into my hand. "Give me a call sometime and I'll help you with your makeup."

I nodded and mouthed "thanks" before walking to the car which Simon was in the process of starting. It was another modern Volvo, a different colour to Simon's and not quite as plush but being a hatchback should carry my bike. I noticed Simon's attache case on the back seat, we'd have to move that to put the back seat down.

As we drove off, Stella waved and returned to her car. In the mirror I saw a mechanic get into a breakdown truck and I wondered if he was coming to get Simon's car. He had a boiler suit on, but the top half was tied off at his waist by the sleeves. I saw some sort of message on the tee shirt he was wearing but couldn't quite read it.

"So where do you live?" asked Simon as we flew through the countryside. He drove even faster than Stella, but he inspired more confidence in his calm handling of the car. I wondered if it was the size of the car that made the difference, feeling safer in a bigger car. Is size important? I considered and began to snigger to myself oblivious to his question.

"Care to share your joke?" he asked a little abruptly.

Of course I went beetroot, how could I tell him that, he'd think I was as horny as he was. "I was thinking about last night," it was worrying, I was becoming quite a liar.

"Obviously something funny?" he remarked indicating my laughter.

"It made me smile," I said, "probably silly, but I thought it was funny that Stella knocked me off my bike, then smacked me on the head with a door. I was beginning to think she didn't like me," I joked chuckling to myself.

He laughed too, "If she didn't like you, you'd be in a body bag by now instead of here with me."

"Has she always been such a reckless driver?"

"God no!" he exclaimed, adding, "She used to be worse," then his straight face broke into a smile and he began to laugh. "She is pretty terrible, I usually refuse to ride with her, but I needed the lift today."

"Has she had many accidents?" I asked passing the time as we drove, if he was talking about her he couldn't ask me questions.

"No amazingly, you were the first, which was to my great good fortune."

I nearly fell off my seat, what did he mean by that? Unfortunately if I asked him, it would only demonstrate my ignorance. "Good fortune, do you realise how much those wheels cost?"

"I expect we'll manage," he smiled back and then to my horror touched me on the leg, patting it as if to reassure me. I jumped. "Goodness, you are jumpy," he said looking at me. I just felt stupid. "I'm not going to rape you on the way to collect your bike, you know."

"No I know," I lied, although the tight jeans and my lack of suitable orifice could have posed a challenge.

"You do trust me, I hope," he said quietly as if to reassure me.

"I'd like to Simon, but I hardly know you." As the words came out of my mouth, I wondered what I was saying, was my treacherous gob, going to drop me further into the mire. I needed to get my brain and mouth coordinated a little more than my apparent current performance.

"There'll be plenty of time for that, starting tomorrow evening. Ah, here's the pub." He steered the car into the car park and alongside his own car. Then jumping out he unlocked his own car and lifted up the boot lid. "Oh no," he shouted, "It's gone."

I felt a dreadful sinking in the pit of my stomach, as if the flying pigs competing with the butterflies for space, had suddenly taken up freefall sky-diving without parachutes. I threw open the car door and on wobbly legs tottered to his car. With a sense of impending horror, I looked into his boot...there was my bike, broken wheel and all.

"Oops!" he said smirking, "I didn't see it there. I'll bet that worried you, the look on your face was priceless."

I was fuming, had I safely been able to stand on one leg, I would have kicked him hard, somewhere very personal. Instead I used psychological warfare. "I think tomorrow is going to be difficult," I said curtly.

"Oh, and why is that?"

"I only go out with men with a good sense of humour, and your's isn't. Can we take my bike to the shop, so I can go home." I then wheeled on my high heel and got back into the loan car, leaving him to put my bike into its boot. I was seething, and nothing he could say would redeem him in my eyes ever again, he'd be lucky to survive the journey, I felt so angry and something else too. I felt disappointed and hurt.

As Simon struggled with the bike, the breakdown truck pulled up alongside us and the young man with the boiler suit go out, Simon gave him the key. He walked around the car in which I sat and smiled at me. His blue eyes twinkled and I pretended to ignore him, but my treacherous mouth smiled back. Then I saw the message on his tee shirt and gasped.

'My pen is
huge',

it read with a picture of a biro alongside it. At first glance it only seemed to comprise of three words, then I realised there were actually four. It was my dirty little mind which transposed the message - what was I becoming?