Park Pedaler

Featured in the Short Story Newsletter - 9/24/08

Honorable Mention in the Great Short Story Contest - August, 2008

Sonja Winston blended a last dot of blusher with her fingertips and stepped back to study her mirrored image.  Her delicate face, haloed by a mass of sun-lightened hair, radiated a healthy glow that emphasized the excited blueness of her eyes.  Her gaze traveled downward, paused where the red, knit top revealed the beginning roundness of her ample breasts, and moved on to the snug, white shorts.  Fingers smoothing the fabric over her flat stomach, she turned to view her firm round buttocks peeping from under the slightly-flared legs and smiled her satisfaction. 

How could Mr. Mike Murphy, fitness enthusiast, female appreciator, and President of Ectone Corporation, help but like what he was about to see?

She glanced at her watch.  Five-forty-five.  If he kept to his usual schedule, her timing would be perfect.  Humming under her breath, she strode quickly over the thick, ice-blue, carpet of the hallway, across the enclosed patio and into the garage.  Plucking the sleek La Grande 12-speed from its rack beside the bright red Ferrari, she wheeled it across the patio and out the gate, securing the burglar bars behind her and tucking the key into the Trac Pac attached to the laces of her snowy, leather-lined sneakers.

Still humming, she pedaled toward Bear’s Paw, the forested patch of manicured wilderness that served as a playground for the wealthy executives who occupied the palatial homes secluded in the hills beyond.

Soon after passing the Park entrance, she cut a hard right onto a little-used biking trail that edged a small hillock, and geared down for the climb.  Through the trees she could catch occasional glimpses of the clubhouse below with its parking lot slowly filling with Mazaratis, Continentals, Jaguars and one or two vintage Corvettes.  The trail leveled off and Sonja wheeled into a small cleared niche overlooking the clubhouse and the beginning of the bike trail.  Her watch read six-oh-two when her quarry appeared.

Mike Murphy was tall and lean, and Sonja’s heart pounded as her gaze swept from his sun-streaked hair to his bronzed, mustached face and over his hard-muscled body.  He would be not just a profit, but a pleasure, she thought, noting his position at the head of his three underlings before she shoved off, back onto the trail.

Pacing herself with the foursome below, she glided along the trail.  As it sloped downward, her breath came in short gasps.  Her timing must be perfect.

The main trail appeared ahead and the trees blocked her view.  Keeping a steady pace, Sonja glided downward toward the intersection.  As it loomed closer, she held her breath.  She mustn’t arrive too soon.  It had to be just right.

A blur of multi-colors entered her peripheral vision and she slightly increased her speed.  At the last moment, she turned her fair head to look directly at the oncoming foursome and opened her eyes wide.  Her carefully-glossed mouth silently voiced the fear of their imminent collision.  Carefully, she squeezed the front brake, while cutting to the right, and tumbled onto the grass, her long tanned legs still gracefully astraddle her machine.

Mike Murphy dropped his bike and rushed to her side.  “Miss?  Miss, are you all right?  Gee, I’m sorry.  We didn’t see you coming.  Are you okay?”

Sonja stirred and groaned slightly.  “What happened?  Who are you?”

“Name’s Mike Murphy.  We were riding down this trail and you came barreling down from there.”  He moved his head in the direction of the hillside.

“Oh.  Oooohh,” Sonja moaned as she moved to rise.

“Here, let’s get you out from under that thing.”  He motioned to his companions, who left their bikes and came to his side.  “Okay, you guys, when I lift up her leg, you move the bike.”  He gently slid his hands under the soft skin of Sonja’s leg and raised it a few inches.  “Okay.  Easy now.”

When she was freed, he knelt over her.  “Are you hurt?  Can you get up?”

Sonja met his gaze with a look of pain and doubt.  “I…I don’t know.”

“Let me help you,” he said, sliding one arm under her and raising her to a sitting position.

Her hand fluttered over her forehead.  “I feel…a bit…dizzy,” she murmured.

“Okay, you just sit still for a minute.”  He turned to his companions.  “Sam, would you take my bike back to the clubhouse and check it in.  The rest of you go on ahead with your ride.  I’ll see to it that this young lady is taken care of.”  He smiled down at Sonja.  “Do you think you can walk?”

“I don’t know.  Would you help me up, please?”

“Of, course,” he said, slipping his arm around her and lifting her to her feet.

“Oooohh,” she moaned.  “My ankle!”

“Let me see it,” he said, squatting down to feel the ankle with one hand while supporting her with the other.  “Lean on me.  Hmmm, it doesn’t seem to be broken.  Do you have a car here?”

“No.  I live only a couple blocks away.  I rode my bike.”

He nodded.  “You surely can’t ride now.  I’ll drive you home.”

“Thank you.  It was so stupid of me.”

“Nonsense.  Accidents happen.  Can you stand there a minute?”

“I’ll try.”

He retrieved her bike and wheeled it alongside her.  “Now,” he said, supporting both Sonja and the bike.  “I want you to sit down and rest your foot on the frame.  I’ll push you back to the clubhouse.”

“But, I can’t. . .”

“Sure you can.  Trust me, okay?”

She nodded and followed his directives; her flesh tingling in response to his nearness and in anticipation of what she knew must come.

He pushed her past the clubhouse, into the parking lot and beside a white Jaguar that sported a bike rack.  The power of his arms lifting her down onto the black suede upholstery increased her excitement and her nipples rose and strained against the thin fabric of her shirt.  That he desired her too was evident in the lingering, caressing way that he released her.

He cleared his throat.  “I’ll put your bike in the rack,” he said hoarsely.

“Hurry,” she whispered, her lips and her eyes showing a promising smile.

“Only take a second,” he said, closing the door.


Driving out of the lot, he glanced at her and smiled.  “I bet you haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”

“No, why?”

“Well, you can’t go out anywhere with that ankle and you surely can’t stand and cook anything.  Are there any take-outs around here?”

“There’s a Chinese place around the corner from my apartment.”

“Good.  “We’ll stop there.  What would you like?”

The tip of Sonja’s tongue traced slowly over her upper lip.  “Will you join me?” she asked softly.

“I. . .”  He paused and gazed at her for a long moment.  “Does that place have a phone?”  She nodded slowly.  “Okay, then” he grinned.  “Chinese at your place it is.”

“Great.  Their Egg Foo Yung is very good and so is the shrimp chow mein.”

“Which would you like?”

“I don’t care.”  She sighed deeply.  “I’m really not very hungry right now.  Why don’t you surprise me?”


A short time later Mike unlocked the security gate, parked his bike on the patio and lifted Sonja from the depths of the car.

“All right, m’ lady, just steer your chariot where you want to go.”

Laughingly she directed him to the living room where he deposited her with a flourish on the deep blue velvet sofa.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she said, “for a most impressive rescue.”

“M’ lady is most welcome,” he said with a low, sweeping bow.  “Can I be of further service?”

“Well, I really would like a drink.  Would you mind, fixing us one.  The bar’s over there.”

His gaze followed her pointing finger.  “Okay. . .You know, I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Sonja.  Sonja Winston.  And yours?  I know you told me, but . . . I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.  Mike Murphy.  Where do you work, Sonja?”

“I’m not really working right now.  I write a little, paint a little.”

He glanced around the room, pausing on various pieces of onyx and marble statuary and some paintings that were obviously original canvasses.  “You do those?”

“Gosh no,” she laughed.  “I’m not nearly that good.”

His gaze traveled on to a windowed wall.  “What’s that?”

“Jacuzzi.  There’s a light switch right there, turn it on and see.”

He walked to the window, flipped the switch and light flooded over a miniature tropical garden surrounding a blue and white tiled bath.  He whistled under his breath.  “This is really some place you have.  How do you . . .”  He stopped short, flipped off the light and returned to the bar.  “Think I’ll have a Scotch, what do you want?”

“Scotch is fine.  Come here,” she said, patting the cushion beside her.  He handed her a glass and sat down.  Sonja took a long sip of the smoky liquid, and traced the line of his arm muscles with her fingertip.

“You were about to ask how I afford . . . all this.”  He blushed beneath his deep tan and slowly nodded.  “It’s really quite simple,” she laughed softly.  “I have some very generous friends.”

With a slight smile, she looked at him from under lowered lashes.  “I choose them.”  Sonja’s flesh tingled under the almost physical caress of his gaze traveling over the entire length of her body.  She could feel his anticipation as he studied the soft, sleek smoothness of her legs; the inviting bulge of her pubic mound; the firm roundness of her breasts with their sharply protruding nipples.

He gulped his drink and sat down the glass.  “Do you think you might choose me?”
She shrugged slightly and placed her glass on the end table.  Sliding one hand around the back of his neck, she pulled him toward her.  “I might,” she whispered against his cheek.  She caressed his muscular chest, her fingertip seeking, and then lightly tracing the outline of his nipple.  “Can you come here Wednesday?”

“I’ll manage.  What time?”

She shrugged.  “Wednesday is yours.  Anytime after six.”  She pulled his mouth down over hers and kissed him.  “I’ll be looking forward to it,” she whispered against his lips.

“Why wait?” he groaned, his mouth traveling down her neck and across her shoulder to the depth of her neckline.  “What’s wrong with right now?”

Taking his head in both of her hands, she raised his face toward hers.  “Remember my ankle, Mike.  I want our first time to be as good as I can make it.  How can I really make love to you if I’m in pain?”

“I’m sorry, Sonja.  You’re just so damn desirable that I forgot.”

She nodded.  “I understand.  I’m as anxious as you are, but I think it’s better if we eat our chow mein, or whatever you brought us, and save our dessert for Wednesday, don’t you?”

“I suppose you’re right.”  He sighed and stood up.  “You finish your drink while I bring in the food.”


After they had eaten, Mike reluctantly rose to leave.  “You take good care of that ankle, y’ hear.  I want it all better by Wednesday.”

“It will be, love.  I promise.”

He stooped, kissed her gently, and was gone.  Sonja listened as his footsteps crossed the patio.  She heard the gate open and close, then the powerful engine of the Jaguar roared to life.  When the sound had faded away, she smiled, stretched luxuriously, and stood up.  “All well by Wednesday, love,” she murmured as she strode across the room.

“But today’s Friday, and Friday at nine is David Brandon.”  David Brandon, fitness enthusiast, female appreciator, and Chairman of the Board, Brandon Associates.

Humming softly, she quickly stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower.