The Woman Who Wanted To Enjoy Sex

Chapter Thirty Two — Biking It

Honesty is the best policy except when it’s not.

Pete stood in the doorway, mobile in one hand and his other on his hip.

A slightly camp position, thought Mrs McKillop for such a robust man, but then she hadn't really seen him chase a robotic lawn mower before...

“What did you do to it?” said Pete.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it was fine when I gave it to you.”

“I haven’t touched it,” the Coach lied.

“Must have.”

“Where is it now?” said Mrs McKillop.

“Somewhere between here and the pier.”

“Well, hadn’t you better go and get it?” she said.

“I would, but what’s the point if I don't know what you've done to it?”

“I dropped it,” muttered the Coach.

“Oh, right.”

“Not hard, but well, I had to put it back together again.”

“Right!” said Pete.

Ms Fraser walked home from Katie’s safe in the knowledge that she had sorted her best pal and the Coach out. She was proud of her unselfishness and was still congratulating herself when she opened the porch door.

Nothing brings a couple together like pain, she told herself and mid chuckle, tripped over… the friggin fold-up bike.

For months, it had sat there taunting her to grab a ride, to embrace the fresh air on the canal, and she had got as far as practising to fold and unfold it. Getting on the saddle scared the crap out of her. It wasn't that long ago she jumped on a hired bike and crashed into a hedge, her balance was buggered as her hormones.

How could something so easy to do when you're seventeen be so hard to do when your hair had turned grey?

She stared at the silver frame, taking up more space than she intended. The small wheels taunted her.

“Go on”, said the gin.

“Grab me”, beckoned the helmet.

And the next thing she knew, she was swerving her way along the canal path in an ancient pair of leggings, trainers from the back of the wardrobe, and singing Queen’s " Fat Bottom Girls ", well, the chorus to herself. The sun was on her back, the wind in her chest, and she, with just a hint of gin left in her veins, was reclaiming her youth.

She did attempt one wave, sparking an ‘oh shit’ wobble, and avoided two dogs with an expert foot on the ground brake, and finally worked out how to use the bell at a couple hogging the path and was so proud of herself. She felt like Julie Andrews singing on that hill in The Sound of Music, probably the hint of gin.

By the time she was at Ardrighaig basin, she was feeling elated, completely up herself, and wondered if she could make it to the Coach’s and possibly brag?

She stopped, pulled out her mobile to text and then saw it, trundling down the road like a dwarf Dalek from Dr Who, hogging the side of the road, oblivious to the swerving cars and glaring drivers. Several cats stopped to stare, while a dog barked, straining at his leash, and then she heard it.

“Stop that lawn mower!”

Katie was thinking about her last gig when it all kicked off… pondering about funny material. Her life was as funny as the six o’clock news, hardly inspiring, but then, she always felt after a few too many, especially in the afternoon.

She looked down at Freddie and was just about to ask what flavour he wanted when the screech of car brakes made her stop and look.

George, codpiece washing on his mind, jumped in the car. Beatrice was the sort of woman who liked ice cream in more ways than one, and he wondered if he should buy a cone or two, just in case she wanted to do more than wash the friggin thing. It wasn't Friday, but still, Beatrice did like a bit of impromptu fooling around… sometimes.

He thought about chocolate topping and nuts, and then, spying the queue at the van, decided to give it a miss. He made to pull into the car park and was just about to jump out when he spied Ms Fraser sail down the hill onto the road, on a bike — stopping with her feet, like she had never ridden a bike before…

Blimey, he thought. Hate to see her with a moped

He watched her pull out her phone… Then he saw the trail of cars, Pete charging along the path, and forgot all about the codpiece.

… To Be Continued

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