Page 18 of Hard Tail
Chapter Six
After I’d wrangled my new bike into the car and got it home—easier than you might think, as it all seemed to clip together like an expensive bit of Lego—I was itching to try it out. Should I eat first, I wondered? Wolverine hadn’t turned up, so obviously it couldn’t be dinnertime.
Then again, he hadn’t turned up for breakfast, had he? I tried not to worry too hard. Maybe he’d just found someone else to bully into operating a tin opener for him. Maybe he’d even taken up hunting.
Yeah, right. That was about as likely as me taking up pole dancing in a sparkly thong.
I decided to ride first, eat later, so I wheeled my bike into the hallway—after all, it was brand new and clean as a whistle; Jay’s carpets had nothing to fear—and went to get changed. Seeing as I was still a bit short of clothes, I slung on a pair of jogging bottoms and a T-shirt I’d already worn once. They hummed a bit and were terminally crumpled from where I’d hung them on the floor last night. I grinned at my reflection in the mirror. Kate would have had conniptions.
Then I ran downstairs to get out my new toy.
I kept away from the main roads and the industrial bit, taking Eling Lane down to a sort of causeway across the river with a tiny toll booth, and stopped for a bit to admire the view. To one side was marshland; to the other, a sailing club, with a forest of white masts bobbing gently on the water. Beyond them lay warehouses, and in the distance, the edge of Southampton docks with a stack of brightly coloured containers like a child’s building bricks. People were out walking their dogs, and the occasional fellow cyclist whizzed by. Despite the evidence of busy commerce around me, it felt extraordinarily peaceful.
I crossed the causeway and headed up Eling Hill, which was pretty steep but mercifully short. It wound up past the pretty stone church of St. Mary’s on the left, and some equally attractive cottages on the right. It was all very picturesque, but I couldn’t shake the feeling it wasn’t exactly what the Genesis had been designed for.
As soon as I could, I decided, I was going to find out where the proper mountain bike trails were. Maybe Matt wouldn’t mind me tagging along on a Thursday night? I’d definitely have to get in a bit of practice first, though, so as not to look like a total wimp. Going uphill, I could already feel the unaccustomed exertion in my thighs and in my buttocks. Reluctantly, I turned the bike around and headed for home, not wanting to overdo it the first time out and end up walking funny next day. Yes. That was what I’d do: get in a week or two’s practice, and then ask Matt if I could go out with him.
In a totally non-date fashion, obviously.
When I got back, I wheeled the bike into Jay’s garage for safekeeping. Right next to Jay’s impressive tally of three mountain bikes, only one of which was in pieces. I had a bit of a “D’oh!” moment as it occurred to me I could have just borrowed one of them rather than blowing the redundancy money on a bike of my own.
Nah. He’d never liked me playing with his toys. Besides, God alone knew how much he’d spent on these babies, even at trade prices. He wouldn’t be too happy if I went out and trashed a thousand-pound piece of precision engineering. Pleased with that little bit of self-justification, I headed into the house.
Wolverine had finally turned up and was sitting in the middle of the hallway, where he could keep a beady eye on both the front door and the back—just in case I’d tried to sneak in and out without feeding him, I supposed. Hemiaowedimpatiently at me. “All right, all right—hold your horses.” Relieved to see him safe and sound, I grabbed a can of tuna. He made a beeline for me as I crouched down to fork it into his bowl, sniffing at me and then recoiling hurriedly.
A bit miffed, I gave my armpit a quick sniff and immediately wished I hadn’t. “Okay, you’re right,” I conceded. “I stink worse than that cat food.” Looked like my own dinner would have to wait—right now I was putting us both off our food.
I headed upstairs to get cleaned up.
***
After my shower, I checked my chest for grey hairs (none yet, but it was only a matter of time) and towelled my hair dry. Then I wrapped a towel round my waist and was about to go downstairs when it occurred to me I was alone here. No one to care if I walked around naked; no one to hissWhatif the neighbours look through the window?at me. I blew a kiss at my hazy reflection in Jay’s tiny bathroom mirror; already the clear patch I’d wiped was misting over again. After slinging the towel over the side of the bath, I sauntered downstairs, my cock bouncing lightly at every step. Damn, it felt good to be free.
Until, of course, the front door opened when I was halfway down the stairs and Olivia stepped into the house, her eyes exactly level with my tackle.
I did what any red-blooded male would do at this point, which was to cover myself up with both hands and splutter at her incoherently.
Olivia’s perfect mask didn’t crack. Either she had the world’s best poker face or there was a really good staff discount on Botox at that salon of hers. “Tim,” she said without lifting her eyes from my hastily hidden crotch. “Jay asked me to pick up a few things for him.”
“Right,” I said, a bit more croakily than I’d intended. I cleared my throat. “Do come in. I’ll just, er, go and…” My hands made vague going-upstairs-with-a-suggestion-of-putting-some-clothes-on gestures, realised they’d abandoned my rapidly shrivelling manhood and scrambled back to bolt that stable door.
“I’ll be in the lounge,” she said glacially and swept away.
I bolted upstairs and grabbed the first pair of trousers I could find. Then I took them off again because they were Jay’s and, as predicted, looked ridiculous on me. By the time I’d made myself decent and got downstairs again, Olivia’s perfectly pedicured foot was tapping on the hallway carpet. “Coast’s clear,” I said with a nervous smile. “No more naked men up there.”
She raised a pencilled-on eyebrow. “Should I have expected some?”
“Er, no. Definitely, no,” I told her, my face about to spontaneously combust.
She swept past me and disappeared into Jay’s bedroom. I tried to remember if I’d left my dirty underwear on the floor and came to the depressing conclusion that yes, I probably had.
There was the distant sound of drawers opening and closing; then Olivia’s precise footsteps came back down the stairs.
“Get what you were after?” I asked to justify hovering by the door.
“Yes, thank you.” She didn’t enlighten me as to what it might have been. Small enough to fit into her handbag, whatever it was. Then again, her presumably fashionable handbag was so large she could have comfortably fit the bed in there. “You know,” Olivia said thoughtfully as she turned to go, “we have a lot of male clients at the salon. Have you ever considered a little personal grooming? We do a good deal on male waxing.”
I shuddered. “No, thanks.”
