It's funny how things happen sometimes. You're stumbling along as normal and suddenly because of some random event everything flips upside down.

This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright KLS 2008.

Things Just Happen

By Kristina.L.S.

1.

She sat back in her saggy old lounge and sighed quietly as a small smile crept across her face. Hey, 11 o'clock, what a wild Friday night. Three hours she'd been, gently scrubbing and wiping down and buffing her new baby. It was beautiful, the best seven and a half grand she'd ever spent. After looking about for months and trying a few here and there she'd found this one advertised in the Trading Post. It was exactly what she wanted, in budget and in good nick. Now it was hers, locked up nice and safe in her little garage downstairs. Rego transfer was in the mail and the insurance cover slip was sorted. Another small sigh escaped as her thoughts wandered.

The last few years had been tough but hopefully things were coming together and if she was lucky she'd have the money for the op in another year or so. Thailand most likely, home here in Oz would have been preferable but no way could she afford it. Twenty-five plus versus fifteen over there; no contest on a budget. Still a lot of searching and checking to be sure, there were a few possibles. That was a decision for when it was time.

The seven and a half was a hit to the bank balance, but she still had to live and get about. Public transport was a pain in the behind so realistically it made sense. Besides, there was a bit of pure fun attached, which was worth considering. Given her budgeting and saving schedule she was on track, thanks to the recent pay jump. Plus no way could she get six weeks off before another year passed, even then two of those would be sans pay, which had to be covered too.

Her eyes roamed the small flat with its tatty old furniture and second hand appliances. Functional, but hardly stylish, much like a Uni students flat might look she guessed. Except she didn't share with four others that stole your yoghurt or left empty shampoo bottles in the shower basket and pizza boxes in the oven, plus she was at thirty-two a bit older than your average Uni student. Still she didn't need much and there was no one to entertain, it wasn't as though she was out partying every week or bringing guys home. A snort of wry humour broke the silence at the thought of what some guy might say when he tried it on, if he was polite. Other options were less amusing.

She went to run her hands back through her shoulder length hair and stopped as she realised her nails were filthy and the rest of her wasn't much better. Smudges of dirt on her clothes, the old grey jogging pants and faded navy Lonsdale T had seen better days but were perfect for cleaning or just slobbing about on the weekend. Ok Trace, a good long shower then some light dinner. You girl, are a bloody mess, Christ no wonder they all think you're a damn lesbian. She couldn't have stopped the out loud laugh at that if she'd wanted to.

Twenty minutes later dressed in a similar outfit of track pants and T she rubbed the towel gently back and forth over her head to semi dry her hair, then draped it around her neck to catch drips as she scooped the dirty stuff of earlier into the plastic bucket with a few other bits. Good thing it was fairly warm July. Winter? What winter? Swung the front door open and leaving it ajar wandered barefoot down the short hall to the laundry, ack the concrete floor was damn cold, as she began to hop jump forward to where her old Hoover washer dryer stack, the cords into the locked power point box for number 6, sat in the corner next to the others top loaders.

Ah, you can choose your friends but not your family. What about the neighbours then, miscellaneous human oddities in this little societal billabong, she smiled wryly. Four flats to a floor, two floors with the laundries in the back corner and a garage for each downstairs, four front to the street and four out back where hers was. A little tight to get into, not that she had a problem, but safer. What with old Mrs Bromovitch keeping an eye out downstairs, nobody moved in this block without her knowing.

Her thoughts wandered over the last few years in the life of Tracy Neilson, the person formally known as Trevor. Sad bastard Trevor, Tracy might be a bit rough around the edges and a little antisocial, but nice enough and a definite improvement on that sad bugger… at least she hoped so. She'd stumbled about for half a dozen years after leaving school. Tried a couple of relationships that had bombed, one of them spectacularly. So six years ago she'd bitten the bullet and talked to Doctors and Psychiatrists and here we are. Living and doing okay as a full-time girl type at the grand old age of thirty-two.

2.

The job had been a blessing. She'd signed on as a Temp with one of the placement agencies and done the requested short course on Office Management, which surprisingly didn't contain anything on making coffee or arse kissing. Still after an investment of two hundred she'd had her evaluation on file and had gotten a few gigs here and there, anything from a few days to one lasting three months. Then one of the places she'd worked for early on had rung on her mobile and offered her a full time thing as an office backup come assistant in the sales section of an IT company. The people were okay and the hours good, plus it was steady. The girl she'd filled in for before had split suddenly after coming back from hols, so they needed someone and Tracy had apparently fit in okay when she was there.

Six months later Sandra, the other half of the office team and nominally Tracy's boss had finally gotten pregnant after trying for three years. Her and hubby Tom had been doing IVF and after a lot of stress and heartache had got lucky. So she was leaving to make sure all was well and then play Mum. The two of them were over the moon and would make great parents. With Sandy's recommendation and the Sales team heads approval Tracy had got the nod to step up.

Now suddenly she had her own offsider, earnt nearly forty grand a year and was part of the team. Everyone knew who and what she was and after some few little spats all had been well. She was mostly just Tracy now, that really tall chick that ran the office and wouldn't take shit from smartarse salesmen, or woman. Even the couple of guys that almost jokingly called her, a hairy armpit man-hating dyke, did acknowledge she kept everything running and made their jobs easier. She'd laughed and promised to use her Epilady on their armpits if they fell short of target. So far she hadn't needed to, besides she doubted she could handle the shrieks, even with earplugs. Men were ever so protective of their precious masculinity, or the ideology of it anyway. She'd offered to lend what she had left if they needed it, which had got everyone laughing except the two guys in question. They hadn't quite known what to say.

Damn Trace old girl, you do wander off into strange fields mentally don't you ya daft bitch. Must be tired so forget dinner, off ta bed and a nice ride on the new baby in the mornin'.

She woke at seven and rolling to her side appraised the day through the gap at the edge of the bedroom curtain, which in July looked a little cool but clear and fine. Should fix that damn curtain before you start getting woken at five when summer rolls around, you've only got a few months. With a snort at procrastination she headed for the stove turned the griller on and split a muffin to toast. Flipped the switch on the jug and tossed the necessary in a cup for coffee.

Sipping and chewing on a marmaladed muffin half she contemplated clothes. Stripped off with a small shiver at the chill and whipped on a crop top and briefs. Hmm, cool, so regular jeans are out…ok then, the leather bitch rides. Another snort of laughter as she pulled on the tight black leather pants then a close fitting cotton cami followed by a long-sleeved T in grey with Ducati in black across her modest bust. Some thick hiking socks and her riding boots with the grippy soles and lastly the slim fit black jacket with small silver reflective flashes here and there. She slipped her phone and wallet into the jacket pockets and clumped back to the kitchen draining her cup as she went, grabbed the small nylon pack with her house keys, 'pocket' street directory, makeup pouch with hair brush, a litre water bottle and a polar-fleece vest, stuck the second muffin half between her teeth and headed out the door.

Squeaking as it always did the garage door swung up to reveal her baby sitting expectantly and looking gorgeous. A Monster, she'd wanted one for ages, since she'd learnt to ride really and when the twenty year old Yammy 350 had finally carked it and gone to a wrecker… well. She'd spent three months searching and suffering public transport, until finally last week, there it was.

An '03 620s ie, immaculate it said. She'd looked it over carefully and there were no dings or scratches and it sounded and rode well. So Friday night she'd forked over and ridden home. The twenty year old Lebanese guy was buying a 1000 Testastretta which was way more bike than she'd ever need, probably more than he needed too, but there ya go.

Chewing and swallowing the last of her muffin she patted the tulip yellow tank, stuck in the key and turned. The soft roar made her shiver as it settled to a modest burble. She strapped the bag to the back of the seat and stepped over to her shelf for her helmet and gloves. The only furniture in her garage was a little old bookshelf she'd got for five bucks in a garage sale, apparently came with the old Encyclopaedia Britannica when they came as a bunch of books, she wasn't sure if they even existed anymore.

Finger combed her hair, pulled on the helmet and tightened the strap. Gloves and then straddling her baby, kicked up the stand and backed her out in to the courtyard. Pushed the stand down again and stepped across to pull down the door.

Old Mr Somerville from her floor was sitting with Mrs Ogden from downstairs at the table near the clothes lines and both raised their tea cups to her in toast. Hmmm, eight in the morning so it probably is tea. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen either of these two sober, so even this early it could be the wine they spent their days with. Still, both were friendly and they smiled now as she waved to the toast. A sudden feeling made her glance up to see Mrs Bromovitch looking down at her through her lounge room window and nodding slightly in acknowledgement. Hah, that old woman is a better security system than the CIA could install. Wonder if she ever sleeps.

As she re-straddled the bike her thoughts took a fanciful turn, hmm, you need a name girl, how about Lucy? Lucy the Duke. Sounds good I think, so that alright with you? She laughed out loud straddled the bike again and tweaked the throttle. Hah, mad bitch, talking to a motorcycle. With a smile she flipped the stand again, squeezed the clutch, which felt a little stiff and burble rolled out to the street.

Ok Lucy girl, let's you 'n me ride eh.

3.

Saturday morning traffic was its usual bloody shambles with everybody and their dog out doing whatever it was. So it was stop start and close watching with bursts of free flow as she headed out toward Dural. Once past the shops there the traffic thinned as she headed for the Ferry. Picked up the pace a bit and smiled as Lucy pulled smoothly, the twists and turns of the old road should be fun.

As she shifted up and down a gradual stiffness began to creep in and by the time she was cruising through Cattai to Sth Maroota shifting was becoming tough. There was a garage up ahead she remembered, just off the main road. Hope someone there knows something about bikes.

She pulled in near the old shed with tractors and trucks and assorted machinery everywhere as an old Blue Cattle dog woofed listlessly at her. A thirty something guy in filthy overalls strolled out from inside wiping his hands on a cloth as she shut off the bike and pulled her helmet.

"Hey there love. What can I do for ya?"

"I'm having trouble shifting and wondered if you might have some idea."

"Shit, bikes aint really my thing ya know. Give me a truck or a car and I'll sort you out." He shrugged slightly apologetically. "Still I know someone that can. You heading for the Ferry?"

"Yes."

The guy squinted and waved his right hand, index finger extended, as though following lines on a map.

"Ok, just head on down till you hit the Sackville road to the left and turn instead of heading for Wisemans. Head about two K till it splits to the left into Pages Wharf. About another K up on yer right you'll find Phil's place. Ya can't miss it I assure you. Up the drive, swing to the shed on the left and toot. He's home 'cause he was in a few hours back and he's working on some old bike of his. He'll sort you."

"Ah, okay thanks. You sure he won't mind some stranger just wandering in?"

"Nah, not Phil, 'e's a gent and he loves bikes and knows 'em backwards. All that two wheeled foreign stuff's not my thing, give me a Toyota any day. But Phil, yeah, no worries."

"Ok, thanks I'll give him a try. It's new and I don't want to damage anything." She smiled at him and he nodded and waved as he turned back inside. She checked the time on her phone, a little after ten. Ok then Lucy, let's go see Mr Phil and hope he can fix what ails you.

The directions were simple to follow and even accurate. Just as the guy had said you couldn't miss the place. A slightly rutted gravel and clay driveway up a small incline. The gate was chained open and marked with the rusted bars, tank and front wheel of what looked like an old forties military bike hanging on the split rail fence.

She pulled to the left in front of the big open shed that appeared to hold maybe half a dozen bikes in various stages of disassemble. She shut off and pulled her helmet before tooting twice gently. As she swung away from the bike a tall slim guy with shaggy, slightly longish dark-brown hair headed her way wiping, polishing maybe, something as his hands moved steadily back and forth. The smile slipped from his face as he spotted her and he scowled as he approached.

"I thought I told you fuckin' bitches to piss off and not bother me again. I don't want you or any of your mob around and that goes double for that selfish cow I used to be married to. Go practice your man-hating bullshit some place else, I sure as hell won't play that game anymore." He stopped suddenly and looked this woman up and down slowly, then looked at the bike as his expression changed to one of embarrassment.

"Ah shit, you haven't got a blind clue what I'm on about have you? And that's a little Duck, they all have damn Harleys or at a pinch a look-alike. Christ, sorry about that, old wounds and ongoing battles. What do you need?"

"Um, I'm sorry but… the guy back at the garage in Maroota said you might be able to help. It's…." She faltered, not quite sure about this at all.

"Look, it's Phil; and I am sorry, I don't normally yell at new customers. At least not till they give me reason to." His rueful grin disarmed her and she relaxed a little and hoped he could help.

"Well I just bought this and it was fine until about twenty klicks back when the clutch started to get really stiff and changing was tough. Plus there's a very slight rattle from the engine that wasn't there before. Like I said I just bought it and…" her voice trailed off as thoughts of being ripped off and her new baby costing her a small fortune to get fixed blundered in and sat like a cane toad. Tears welled and she sniffed and stretched, blinking to stop from crying in front of this guy.

"Hey, don't worry, it's probably not anything drastic just start it up and let me have a listen."

His hands were still turning back and forth with whatever it was as she twisted the key. He cocked his head a little to the side and squinted as he mimed for her to twist the throttle a little. As she did he crouched and held his hand down near the engine and asked her to pull the clutch a few times.

"Okay shut it off." He wiped his hand on the cloth that he'd been polishing a metal part with as she twisted the key to return silence. He stood and looked her in the eye, "Time I had a break. You fancy a cuppa? Come on inside and we'll talk."

He led the way to the back of the large shed, passing a slightly cluttered desk with an old Compaq laptop and a little Canon printer on the wall where a bunch of certificates and photos going back some years by the look, she paused to glance over some of them. The first showed Phil standing cross-armed and unhappy looking in a racetrack workshop. Another showed him arm around the shoulder of a guy in leathers holding a trophy. Another of him drenched to the skin as someone in leathers sprayed him from a bottle of Champagne. Another one showing a van, Evans Motor Cycle Works in fancy script on the side.

He shrugged as she turned toward him and waved her to a room about two by four metres, a tied back curtain partly masking a shower, bench and basin at one end visible and a table with three old metal legged kitchen chairs, two at the side and one on the end at the front. A stainless single kitchen sink jutted from the wall and a bar fridge sat next to the table with a tray on top holding an electric jug, a jar of coffee, one of sugar and another full of tea bags.

"Help yourself to tea or coffee, milks in the fridge and there's a loo through there if you need it." He waved at a door next to the shower. "I just need to make a call and I'll be with you in a sec."

Funny how someone mentioning the loo could cause a sudden feeling of need, so she ducked underneath the curtain and stepped into it, closed the door as she unbuttoned, then shimmied side to side for several seconds to get the tight pants down far enough to sit. Let go a small stream, wiped, restored herself, damn… no mirror, oh well, used the basin and headed back through the door and curtain looking for a hand towel. Phil came in just as she emerged and clicked on the jug.

"So, fancy tea or coffee? I'm usually coffee, but tea in the evenings or when it's hot."

"Um, coffee, please, one sugar and a splash." As she wiped her hands on a not over clean tea towel hanging on the rail.

He busied himself for a moment spooning, pouring and stirring then passed her a cup that was clean and waved her to sit as he did at the end chair.

"Okay, I want to say sorry again. I saw you there and just assumed you were another of my exes new mates that fancied some free bike work… anyway…. You just bought this you said…." as she nodded.. " It's the S version isn't it? Alloy arm and a little taller than standard I think…" as she nodded again…. "Okay, you have a pinhole leak down at the base of the clutch line near the banjo joint, it's hydraulic and is spraying out under pressure, a while longer you wouldn't be able to shift and might have damaged things trying. The other thing I was listening too is the valve noise. These Ducati's need to be adjusted regularly or you get trouble and I suspect your previous owner was a little lax. It can be a bit expensive as it takes time but it has to be done."

"Shit. Um. Okay, so what do I do? I did know about the valves and he assured me everything was up to date. There's no damage is there…I hope?"

"Well honestly I can't be sure 'till I look, but I think things are just a little loose and needing a reset. That line needs replacing and then a bleed and adjust. All up you're looking at six hours work plus a few parts. That call I just made was to a mate runs a shop on the Central Coast, he has the bits, so I can get them later. But right now I need to get the forks and wheel back on that Triumph there. The guys coming to get it in a bit over an hour so I can't touch yours 'till after that, then I need to go get the parts and that's a two hour round trip. I'd lend you the Ute but it's out of rego and the only bike running is mine and no one rides that… sorry, you're here for a few hours."

"Oh well, there go's my nice leisurely ride to christen Lucy here. So how much am I looking at, parts and your time, I don't have a lot of cash on me?"

He grinned a little crookedly," Well I was a rude bastard before and that's really not who I am, so I figure I owe you one by way of apology. I'll get this one done then we'll double up on my bike to go get the parts, you pay… um, clutch line and bleeder valve is about ninety five and I'll sort it out from there. Should be done by about eight… so… then you, out of the goodness of your heart and a kind and generous nature, buy me dinner and a beer down the pub and we'll… well I'll, make sure all is well and we call it even…." He shrugged slightly and looked a bit uncomfortable.

He wasn't the only one.

4.

Damn, I think this guy is coming on to me and even if I think he is a decent sort and not bad looking, ignoring all the …'my ex is a bitch and in league with the devil'… stuff. Christ Trace… what the fuck do you do here? You girl are seriously lacking in flirty basics… shit a twelve year old could teach you stuff, assuming they could stop laughing long enough.

"Ah, look Phil… I really appreciate you helping me out but I really don't want you going to any trouble. Let me just pay you for your time…" Damn, the guy's eyes just shut down, as though he'd been knocked out. Why? Why the hell would this regular guy even think of going out with a… well, a girl like me?

"Yeah, ok… fair enough. I was rude earlier. I'm sorry. I'll fix your clutch line and you'll be gone by three. Do get those valves sorted soon though huh. If you don't it will cost you hundreds more for shims and time." He looked at her as though thinking of saying something else, but shook his head slightly and turned away.

"Look, I'm sorry I need to finish this other bike so… Sorry I didn't get your name…."

"Tracy, Tracy Nielson."

"Well Tracy Nielson, I need to finish that Triumph, then I'll go get your parts. You can sit in the house and watch telly or read or whatever and I'll let you know. You know…" he paused, seemingly debating with himself…"I admire you, I really do. It must take more guts than I can understand to do what you're doing. Shit… that sounds so fucking patronising…. " He sighed as he shook his head and stood, turning…" I'll go back to the damn bikes and do what I do. Mechanical things I understand…."

She sat, totally unable to move for several seconds as his words echoed in her head. In the background she heard the sounds of metal pieces being moved and tightened. Spanners tinking and a soft grunt here and there.

For no reason she could understand tears began to flow. She pictured him as he'd first appeared emerging from the shadow of the shed. Tall… about her height she guessed. Lean and supple, the old khaki work pants fitting neatly to a trim waist. The faded flannelette shirt, sleeves partly rolled over an almost grey, white t-shirt. His hands moving back and forth as he wiped whatever it was. Face with an almost smile and an air of sorrow before she saw the soft brown eyes. The dark brown hair, obviously finger combed, flashes of grey here and there as it licked and caught at the shirt collar. She felt her own smile start, as his had changed to a snarl as anger bit.

She stood and picked up the cup he'd left on the table, took it and hers to the sink and rinsed and wiped. Sat them upside down on the tray next to the jug.

With her hands gripping the edge of the small sink, she stood motionless, her gaze inward as tears ran down her face.

Damn you Phil whoever the hell you are. What are you doing? What the hell am I doing feeling bad about rejecting you if that's what the hell I just did. Oh…God. I'm not even a real girl and he bloody knows it, so what does he want? Is he one of those pathetic tranny chasing nutjobs, or just some peace and goodwill New Age wanker? Oh shit Tracy, you actually do, you want to go out with this bastard… don't you, you crazy fucked up bitch?

Wiping her eyes she stared for a few seconds into the small square mirror tile stuck to the wall. Turned and headed out to where he was stuffing some springs and washers into metal tubes. It was several seconds before he stopped and looked at her.

His soft, brown eyed gaze made her feel… what? Unsure? Oh come on girl, get a grip.

"Phil, um, sorry I don't know your last name but that was rude of me. I was too trusting and simply fell in love with Lucy out there, so maybe I got taken a little. I would be really grateful if you would fix the clutch cable, line… whatever and whatever else needs doing to get her running as smooth and easy as she can. I… um, I don't take unexpected kindnesses easily. Just a prideful stubborn bitch I guess. So I'd be really grateful if you… can I, um…. help with anything?"

His half smile caused a small flutter in her stomach and she was fairly sure her eyes rolled backwards into her head like some sort of poker machine lemons on a dud pull.

"Uh… thanks Tracy. I'm pretty right with this and another body would get in the way more than anything… but… If you'd like you could grab some gloves and pull those other two carb bodies out of that tin where they're soaking and buff them up with those old towels there." He nodded to a bench at the back where a tubular alloy thing was sitting on a piece of towel.

That's what he was wiping when I arrived.

"Yeah ok I can do that. What are they?"

His gaze flicked to an old bike on a stand, parts sitting around it, two chrome spoke wheels leaning against the bench nearby and a dull red tank with a silver white flash across it with a Triumph badge on the side she could see.

"That's a '70 Trident I'm restoring bit by bit, you'd save me some time if you'd give those two remaining carb bodies a good scrub up. Amals, that's the carbs on those old Brit things. Pretty wild bike in the day. The gloves are in that box on the bench and thanks. Oh, it's Evans."

She rolled her eyes, well you did ask Tracy girl. "Amals, Trident… um, right, absolutely Mr Evans." She tried to hold a straight face. Phil glanced up and actually blushed and mouthed sorry as he shook his head slightly.

She smiled and turned to pull some latex gloves and then lift the two tubular bodies from what smelt like kerosene, let them drip for a few seconds before wrapping them in pieces of towel and setting one down and taking the other up began to rub it clean and dry. Jesus Christ girl. What the HELL are you doing?!! Her thoughts wandered as did her eyes, often straying to Phil as he worked. Watching the movement of shoulder and arm, So what are you thinking about then Phil? After a time she decided that this one was about as clean as it would get and put it beside its brother to begin on the third as she gazed into space.

She jumped as a bike started with a throaty roar and she turned slightly to see Phil flick the metallic grassy green bike he'd been working on, now complete again, up onto it's rear wheel and spin it around to face the door, drop it down and jump on in one fluid motion as he accelerated out, jumping it off the concrete floor to the ground nearly a metre lower, bent elbows and knees taking the jolt of landing, then grabbing the front brake lifted the back wheel into the air and while balanced spun it back toward her, dropped the rear down and twisted the throttle to spin the rear wheel in a circle, shoot across the front yard and then slow to turn back in a gentle loop and stop near the steps before shutting it off.

He grinned at her surprised stare, "Yeah I reckon he'll be happy with that, all balanced and the vibration gone I think."

"That… was amazing."

"Ah, well… that was me showing off, bloody childish really." He looked slightly sheepish.

Showing off… for me? Oh boy. Well Trace, now what? " Naughty boy, still, pretty impressive. I considered one of those but a little exey new. That bug eye look sort of grows on you."

He shrugged and looked away, "Yeah these are pretty nice. He loves it but had a few little complaints. Some vibration up through the fork and handle bars and a too quick change between gears when highway cruising. So I fit and balanced new shocks, finished the rear yesterday, some rubber bushes on the bars and two new sprockets to give a wider reach in the gears… all done. Come on, let's go in the house and wash up a bit, Craig'll be along soon to get this and then we'll go get your stuff."

5.

Grabbing her little pack from the back of her bike she followed him into the little plank built house, almost a kit cottage by the look a take off of the old drovers homesteads of the 1800's. A shaded veranda along the front held by poles. The left of centre door opening to an open plan living dining room, with a modest kitchen to the left. She glanced around to her right, a plain but simple living room with a medium size flat-screen on a sideboard and the lounge dividing the room slightly, a couple of cushions scrunched at one end where its owner obviously stretched out to watch. A small side-table held an empty plate and two remote controls. To her left a round pine table with three chairs sat at the front end of the kitchen, the fourth chair against the wall, piled with magazines. The kitchen looked clean but used. Ahead was a short hallway where presumably bathroom and bedroom or rooms would be.

"Here ya go, chateau Evans, such as it is. Bathrooms down the end there on your left, go ahead I just want to set the recorder for while we're out."

With a smile and a nod she headed to the small but neat bathroom and winced at her helmet hair reflected back at her. Pulled the emergency kit and did minimal facial repairs and a brush up to look semi human. Leaving the bathroom she almost walked into Phil coming out the first of two doors carrying a leather jacket and a dark red helmet. With a smile he waved her ahead and followed. Draped the jacket over one of the pine chairs set the helmet on the table and headed back to the bathroom.

As the tap ran up the back she wandered about. An old solid floor mounted gas stove against the back wall looked well used. Along the wall divider was a wall unit with crockery, pots and pans stacked and hanging. A single plate and cup sat in the sink under the window on the left wall. Glancing out she could see two tall gas tanks strapped against the wall; well you wouldn't get mains out here would you. Compact but neat Phil, not much for decoration though are you?

She turned back as footsteps headed her way and smiled as Phil came into view slicking back his damp hair with both hands. His eyes twinkled at her as she looked him up and down and blushed. Just then a bike roared up and stopped outside the motor still running. She followed him out and saw him give the thumbs up to a guy standing in the yard who in turn nodded to the guy on the bike who took off and disappeared.

"Just give me a minute to get Craig here sorted eh." She watched as he chatted to the guy for a minute and as he, Craig, she guessed whooshed around the yard a couple of times, lifting the front wheel at a twitch of the throttle. Then a card was passed an invoice printed, folded and pocketed.

As they headed to the bike Craig glanced her way and winked as he spoke over his shoulder, "About fuckin' time ya dozy prick. You've been mopin' about like some kid after a spankin'. Bloody boring after a while." Then with another wink to her, "Give 'im a good shake love and if he starts on about that bitch of an ex give 'im a slap. You look like ya can 'andle 'im. Good on yer both. Don't fuck it up sunshine."

Phil looked a little bemused and she wasn't sure what to say, so didn't and just smiled slightly.

"Give me a bell if you have any trouble eh." Phil looked a little embarrassed. With a vigorous handshake Craig donned his helmet, revved loudly a couple of times, nodded and with a wave took off.

She headed back inside as Phil followed.

"Um… sorry about Craig, I guess he saw you on the veranda and jumped to conclusions."

"That's okay, not a problem."

"So Tracy Nielson, shall we go get these bits to get your little Ducky singing again. Can't have you getting upset and thinking she's not good. All will be well, trust old Phil."

"Ah you're not that old, only a few on me I'd bet."

"Forty two actually and you'd be about thirty I'd guess, so a few up."

"Ten years, so a man of experience…. " This time she blushed to her toes and put her hands over her eyes so she couldn't see him and whispered, " Oh God Tracy, brain in gear please, um that's not…oh…." as she fell silent and uncovered her eyes to see him grinning silently and groaned softly.

"Hey, don't knock experience girl, I could teach you a few tricks. " This time he laughed a short bark. "Come on, let's go." He bowed elaborately and as his arm swung back up pulled the jacket from the chair and swung it over his shoulders and shrugged into it. Scooped up his helmet as she still blushing headed out the door, which he pulled closed behind him. She strapped her backpack to her bike as he took the bars and wheeled it up into the shed, pulled a big concertina door along the front and twisted the lock to bolt it top and bottom. Then pulled a drop sheet off what she guessed was his bike. It looked like an escapee from a racetrack. Dark red, all fairings, matt black and soft silver, a Honda badge on the tank.

As she gazed mutely he patted the stainless high sitting exhaust, "See, we share a preference for high pipes, Staintunes. They work and are much better looking don't you agree?"

She nodded silently; they did look better, she thought and was glad hers were similar.

"Oh and before you ask it's a '98 VFR800, one of the best road bikes. Big enough to fly and actually reach the gears… well occasionally." Grinning widely he pushed forward to flip up the stand and rolled the bike down the short ramp and kicked it down again as she followed. He headed back in, grabbing his helmet and pulled the door closed behind him as she stooped to pick up hers.

With a twist of a key the big red bike started up with a sound, somewhere between a powerful bike and a small jet turbine. Damn girl this is gonna be some ride.

Twisting the throttle a couple of times the bike roared and whined, itching to attack something perhaps.

"Come on jump on. You'll enjoy this I hope."

"Um, I've never been behind anyone before… never doubled."

He laughed and put on a rough accent, "Shoot bitch, that's whut you gals is fer, decoration and party'un." He patted the seat, "Come on, jump on and wrap your arms around, it'll be good. Just flow with my body, you know how to ride so you'll be fine. There's a grab rail back of the seat if you can't handle handling me, but it's smoother if you will."

Shit Tracy, get a grip… so to speak. You might learn something. With a nod she climbed on and adjusted her helmet as Phil did likewise. He took it easy as she settled in behind him and linked her fingers across his stomach. Down the driveway and out onto the road as he accelerated smoothly and then she just followed, letting his body lead. The fifty-five minute journey down across the ferry, along and up through Mangrove Mountain and over to Berkeley Vale to the shop was an amazing experience. Probably the closest you could get to being in a jet fighter without leaving the ground. He was smooth as silk, fast and fluid. She paid for the parts $95 plus tax, he tucked them in the seat pocket and then they both climbed on and… headed back home.

This time she was more relaxed and became conscious of the heat, the leather and musk and earth smell of the man she was pressed against. He slowed as she suddenly pulled back from him as with a sigh to herself she again pressed against his back. Just relax Tracy girl and go with the flow, just go with the flow. With the feel of her again settled Phil resumed the pace of the ride.

Grinning ear to ear she bounced off the bike as he shut off at the ramp. Pulled off her helmet and shook her hair out, the self-consciousness of earlier temporarily forgotten.

"Wow Phil, that was wild. I'm not good enough but I can see why people want bikes like this. You… ah didn't break the law there anywhere did you?"

"Who me? Well, maybe once or twice… a little. The ol' gal sure is fun to ride. Right, let's get yours together then shall we." With a pat to the red tank he jumped off, retrieved the parts from the small 'luggage compartment' walked up the ramp to open the door and pushed the concertina partly open.

"Okay girl, pull up a stool and learn at the feet of a master, just after three, so let's be done by eight. You owe me dinner."

She watched as he undid, refit, bled and adjusted the clutch line, which took a whole forty-five minutes. "Ok girl, make yourself useful, coffee white and one please, this is gonna take a while longer."

With a slight shake of the head and a soft smile she did as requested and watched, asking questions and listening as he explained what he was doing. He lifted and loosened and measured and adjusted and measured and swore and chatted and after four hours and twenty minutes pronounced it done. He flicked on the floodlights to light up the yard and suggested she give it a quick test. Once round the yard and it seemed good, the clutch was smooth and the clatter in the engine was gone and it seemed to pull a little more power. Hard to tell in first gear, but still, she grinned.

"Right then girly, let me wash my hands and then follow me. The ride down will tell us if we've got it. Bring your money with you, I'm bloody starving."

With a laugh she shook her head, "Nah you blew it, it's after eight. So the deals off."

With a bark of laughter he muttered, "cheapskate bloody bitch" as he headed for the small bathroom. He was back a few minutes later, shaking his hands dry. Flicked off one of the lights, pulled the doors shut and nodded as she started up. It was dark and cool as they wound their way down to the pub.

6.

She was grinning widely as she pulled up a few seconds behind Phil and pulled her helmet as he did likewise.

"I gather from your grin she's running just fine again?"

"Better than when I bought her, smoother and more pickup. Nothing outrageous, but there all the same. Seriously, thank you, a pub dinner is hardly fair payment for your work."

"True." He nodded sagely and grinned at her, "But then it beats sitting home and watching bike races like I planned. The company's better here."

Blushing slightly she lead the way in and they grabbed a table on the veranda. It was shielded by heavy plastic curtains and had one of those gas heater things on a stand near the door that warmed up the area nicely.

"Okay Phil, my treat, you mind the table and I'll get us a drink. What do you fancy?"

"Um, a Coopers Light thanks. " She nodded and headed to the bar, got Phil's beer and a glass in case he wanted one and a glass of soft red for herself.

Once seated they both became a little self-conscious and the conversation dried up until she prompted him about his bikes and what he was working on.

A couple of old Honda's with carby problems, a Kawasaki Ninja that wanted extra go fast bits, as if 300k wasn't enough and a fairly new Harley Sportster needing a new ignition control unit.

"Thought you didn't like Harleys."

He squinted to think and actually blushed a little, "No, I've got no problems with Harleys. Might not be my first choice, but they do make some nice bikes. That… ah, bit I said earlier was more about how certain people latch onto all the bullshit that goes with bikes and Harleys in particular. Outlaw macho crap and women can be just as bad." He sat for a minute pondering.

"The reason I reacted when I saw you was I thought you were another of the dike bitches she… my ex, hooked up with. I like women and I don't care who anyone sleeps with, but this bunch are just… well they're as bad as the outlaw boys with an added anti-male edge. We were married six years when she decided to ride off with one of 'the girls'. Of course she has to take our life savings with her. Lost my business and just kept this place, that was six years ago. Now I do work like you see and I'm okay. But every now and then one of them would roll up and expect free bike work and generally behave like I was scum. I did it a few times for God knows what reason; maybe to try and show her I was a cool guy. I actually heard her laughing about it after I'd fixed one of her mates' bikes one time. I fronted the two of them and told them to piss off and never come back. That was a few years ago and I get on and do what I do. When I saw you standing there… well, I reacted to the memory. Don't get many women coming up here." He shrugged and shuffled a little on his chair with a rueful smile as he gazed at her to see…

"Wow, that must have been hard to take, I mean… Well most guys would take it pretty bad if their girl took off with another woman, I'm sorry that happened."

"Oh, don't misunderstand, I took it badly enough. Was one cranky miserable bastard for a year or so, maybe still am if Craig's to be listened to, which he usually is. But hey, I got it sort of together after a while, well…. sort of. I loved the stupid bitch, whatever that means. Thought she loved me too… Some act…." He gazed into space for a moment before physically shaking himself and turning his soft gaze back to her.

"So what about you then Tracy Nielson. How do you come to be… ah, you? Sorry, don't answer if that's getting too personal. "

Ooh boy Phil, how do I answer that one? Still, it will almost always come up sometime

"Well, not an easy thing Phil; suffice to say I never quite felt in synch, never felt I belonged. Eventually with some help I figured that out… and well, here I am."

He nodded silently and sipped his beer while she sipped the red and tried to figure out what he was thinking.

"So my mechanical saviour, what do you fancy eating then, shall we go check the menu?"

"No need, I'll go the Salmon cutlet and a plate of wedges with the Italian salad side. Oh and another beer please."

Smiling she nodded, "Sounds good, I'll go the same I think, unless I see something more inspiring. Okay, back in a minute."

She wandered across and perused the menu on the wall, pondered a pasta dish or the marinated chicken, but decided to go with Phil and the Atlantic salmon. Placed the order and got a little beeper thing to signal when it was ready, then headed for the bar to get his beer. She didn't need another, besides the wine being three times the alcohol of his the glass was huge, almost a fishbowl. He smiled and nodded thanks as she sat, sliding his beer across to him.

They sat in easy silence for a while and then just started talking about all sorts. Easily and pleasantly as each got a rough outline of the others life and times and she got a business card with his number, as opposed to just the shed number, on the back. She in turn gave him hers and where she worked, well just in case she had bike trouble or something.

The meal was nice and they chatted easily as they ate. She couldn't face it but Phil had dessert, a ginger sponge pudding with ice cream and custard, she did have a taste and it was lovely.

Finally they were outside in the cold night air standing there neither knowing what to say. On impulse she stepped in and hugged him tight with a soft thank you and a kiss on the cheek. His reaction startled her as he stiffened and pulled away sharply.

Momentarily surprised she just stood there for a second as he with his back to her looked away toward the barely visible cliff face across the river. As tears threatened she pulled on her helmet, made sure her little bag was secure started and with a last look his way, pulled out and rode away without a word.

It was almost midnight when she made it home and was sort of proud she hadn't cried.

7.

She was on the phone when the courier came to the door and Marie with a big grin on her face pointed him at her. Flowers, a big bunch of roses and tulips and lilacs and that wispy white wedding stuff, all in an actual vase and a card stuck in the middle. He put them down on the end of her desk with a grin and a wink walked out whistling, 'best part a' the job'. Stunned and absolutely flustered she hung up mid conversation, got up and paced for a second or two and then bolted. Walking as quickly as she could with tears running down her face. Just walking with no idea of destination or rational thought to her actions. It was two blocks before she was clear enough to take a deep breath and get her bearings to head back.

After almost twenty minutes she made it back to a concerned and more than a little flustered Marie.

"Are you ok Tracy? You scared me running out like that and I didn't know whether to read the card to find out I don't know what…um. Come on sit, I'll make us a cuppa. Strong coffee I reckon. "

"Um, yes thanks Marie and coffee would be great. Sorry for that, but…I don't know, I've never got flowers before. That and the reason for them just hit me. Childish huh."

"You've never…um, oh I guess you… I guess I forget you really haven't been, um… "

"Hey it's ok. No I never."

"So you know who then, that's a start. Ooh, it's ever so romantic the big fight and then the flower bit to make up, with a card and all. So go on, tell…" Seeing the blush and almost panic come into Tracy's eyes…" Hey, go on then read the card and sit and think. He can't be all bad…Oh, it is a he?" She blushed herself and turned to answer a ringing phone as Tracy laughed and nodded.

While Marie chatted animatedly on the phone a metre or two away she tried to get her heart rate under control as the card sat like some emotional ticking bomb in the centre of the, she had to admit, gorgeous arrangement. After a good couple of minutes, as her anxiety increased, she reached a tentative hand and plucked the pale pink envelope and slid out the card inside. She had to smile at Charlie Chaplin in an old aviator's cap, but instead of leaning on his cane he was leaning on an old bike that had been stuck on carefully. Taking a deep breath she opened it….

Tracy, I hope this catches you and Lucy well. I tried to ring a few times but I hung up before it got connected and I decided to try and write it down instead. Chicken shit huh.

First, like I said the other night before I screwed up I admire your courage and honestly I don't see anything but a woman. I mean sure I can tell if I look close and yes it took me a few minutes to get my head around when I realised and we seemed to click and had a nice evening and then when you hugged me. I reacted the way I did in part because of who you are and yes what you are, but also because of my own fears. I realise I should have tried to explain myself but by the time I got my thoughts together you'd gone. Yes I flinched because my head said I was hugging a guy. Talk about your screwy mixed signals, but that only lasted a second. Mainly it was because since my wife left and the way it all went down I haven't been close to anyone. Almost six years and it was too much suddenly. Fear of what you and I being together meant then and there and what it might mean. So you see while it was in part a reaction to you which I sincerely apologise for it was also my own fears catching me suddenly. I hope you can forgive and perhaps understand the why of it. When I get the guts I'll call you and I hope we can talk and maybe meet up again.
Yours with humble things on top
Phil.

Damn, she had tears in her eyes…again. Marie was watching with concern and curiosity practically rolling off her. With a sigh she tried to think. Bloody typical girl, you find yourself in a nice situation and one small glitch and instantly it's all about you and you never gave a thought to maybe he had his own little psychodramas going on. Selfish cow.

8.

The weird buzz on the end of her desk pulled her back from her mental wanderings. Where'd that half hour go? She glanced at the number and her stomach rolled. Grabbing it she flipped it open before message bank got it and tried twice before she managed to get a hello out.

~~On a hot summers night would you offer yourself to the wolf with a red rose?~~

"Phil you mad bastard, you're misquoting Meatloaf at me?" She grinned at the phone.

~~Well hey, I'm forty two and that was hot shit when I was a kid, all the girls loved it…well the guys too if they had girls.~~

"Look… I got the card and the flowers. They're lovely really. Um, I maybe over-reacted a little and I didn't think about you at the time. So I guess we're both sorry. "

~~I am sorry for the way I reacted, truly. I know it must be a little hard for you at times and guys can be bastards. So…um, could we try and see… maybe go for a ride. Meet up and do dinner again? I like you and you seemed to like me, it's a start maybe~~

"Sure I'd like that, you can never have enough friends and who knows…"

~~Yeah, who knows, I'll give you a red rose if you let me give you a hickey~~

The snort of laughter made him laugh as well.

~~Good. Oh, wear those pants again huh, they're hot. And he will offer you his hunger~~

"You really are barmy aren't you and besides it's the middle of bloody winter, not some hot summer teenage night on a damn foggy beach. Yeah, I'll wear the pants you lech."

~~Hey, it's summer somewhere and those pants are hot. I'm glad we're good Tracy, really. I'll call you later, okay~~

"I'll give you a ring tonight when I get home, alright?"

~~Lovely, okay I'll talk to ya later. Thanks… and who knows eh~~

Smiling she heard the dial tone and realised he'd hung up. She glanced up to see Marie grinning at her and couldn't help but blush.

" Back to work ya nosy bitch." She laughed in her direction as Marie just grinned wider and pretended to be busy. "Hey where's that damn coffee I was promised a half hour ago?"

Her thoughts wandered again as laughing Marie got up to make coffee.

Ah Phil ya mad bugger. Who knows eh? Who ever bloody knows?

~~Fini~~

My thanks to Angela Rasch for her thoughts and showing me where, among
other things, I might tend to womble on a bit.

Thanks also to Dimelza Cassidy for her help with the bike stuff… and more

Any remaining bloopers are down to me.