Caught Short (A slightly saucy story from the pen of Mrs T.)
Terri’s bike wobbled as the Lamborghini whipped past her doing about sixty mph, sucking the breath out of her and almost making her career into Lisa on her inside.
“Stupid idiot!” yelled Lisa as the slick silver car flew past. The swarthy male driver, eyes shielded by dark sunglasses, made not even the slightest indication of seeing the two shaken cyclists.
“Twat,” said Terri, regaining her breath and pulling a strand of her long black hair that had escaped from underneath her helmet from her mouth. “What a jerk driving at that speed down a country lane. He could’ve killed us.”
“I’ve scratched my arm on those thorn bushes,” replied Lisa, gently rubbing her left arm which now bore a cluster of bright red grazes and a trace of blood. “We were lucky though. It could’ve been worse.”
“Maybe he’ll plough himself into a lamp post and do the world a service by making one less moron with a flash car on the planet,” continued Terri, watching the sleek form disappear, tail lights flashing and tyres screeching as the driver negotiated a tight bend. “Let’s stop at that lay-by ahead and have a drink. I could do with a breather after that fright.”
“Okay, I’ll race you,” Lisa replied, pushing down hard on her pedals, her tanned legs and arms taut as she raced away. “I’m gonna beat you!” she screamed as she took the corner.
Terri’s legs pumped furiously up and down, her knuckles white and her hair flying loose again as she closed the gap.
“Hey, the Lamborghini,” panted Lisa, slowing down as Terri caught up with her.
The car was pulled up in the lay-by a short distance ahead with the driver’s door wide open and the radio blasting out disco music into the quiet countryside.
“Let’s see what’s up,” said Terri. “Maybe we’ll have the chance to get our own back.”
The girls raced up to the car and dismounted. Taking a good look around and peering into the car, they couldn’t see any signs of the reckless, speeding owner.
“Wow, look at that interior!” said Lisa, pulling off her helmet to reveal her blonde bob and pixie face. She slipped into the smooth leather seat and ran her fingers lovingly around the steering wheel. “Just imagine having enough cash to buy one of these.”
“Yeah, that guy must be loaded. Pity he’s such a clown, otherwise it might have been worth making a move on him. But I think we should give him a lesson instead,” giggled Terri with delight. “Do you see what I see?”
“Oh you mean these?” Lisa pulled the keys from the ignition. “And what about this?” Lisa picked the mobile phone off the passenger seat and tossed it out to Terri with the keys. “How careless leaving a car like this open. He must be totally arrogant or so rich he doesn’t give a damn if anyone nicks it. Where do you think he’s gone?”
“I don’t know. But hardly anyone comes this way. Maybe he was caught short and thought it was safe to leave the car for a moment,” replied Terri, jangling the keys with a wicked smile. “I’ve got a plan; let’s hide further up the road before he comes back.”
Positioning themselves at a safe distance, the girls soon spotted a leg appearing over the stile in the lay-by followed by the body of a tall athletic man in his late thirties with film star looks.
“He’s a dish,” whispered Lisa.
“He sure is. All the more reason to make him suffer,” said Terri, perusing the jean clad demi-god. “And I know just how to do it.”
The man climbed back into the driver’s seat, pulling the door shut behind him. After a brief moment he began to search his pockets. Then his head disappeared down into the footwell and then over to the passenger seat. Finally, he got out of the car and started to retrace his footsteps towards the stile.
“COO…EEE!” Terri held the keys high in the air and waved them to and fro like a tempting treat for a puppy. “Were you looking for these?”
The man swivelled around towards the girls, and removed his glasses, assessing the situation, and the girls’ clinging attire.
“And maybe this?” said Lisa, tossing the phone high in the air, catching it and sticking it down the inside of her bra as the man looked on with interest.
“Geez, he’s seriously hot,” said Terri, speaking through gritted teeth as she dangled the keys. “I’m just gonna love this.”
“I see you ladies have me compromised,” said the man with a slight twitch of his mouth.
“You could’ve killed us back there,” said Lisa.
“I’m sorry. I’m on my way to a meeting and took a wrong turn. I’m running late.”
“That’s not a proper apology. Just excuses,” said Terri.
“Sorry again. Now can I have my keys back now you’ve had your fun?” said the man. “I need to go.”
“He’s a pretty cool dude,” said Lisa. “He doesn’t look in the least perturbed. If anything he’s amused.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to work for your keys. Let me see…twenty press-ups should do it,” said Terri.
“Are you serious?” replied the man.
“Yep,” said Terri, trying to keep a straight face.
“And then I can have my keys and phone?”
“Jesus. Women.” The man sighed, squatted down on the floor and quickly did twenty press-ups with a practised efficiency. Then he sprang upright and held out his palm. “Right, job done. Hand them over.”
“I’m not sure if that was good enough,” said Terri, turning to Lisa. “What do you think? Shall we give them to him? I think he needs to work harder.”
“It’s very hot today though. Maybe he needs to cool down first?” said Lisa, suggestively.
“Hmm…I believe you’re right,” said Terri, turning back to the handsome stranger. “Okay, Mr Speedy, strip off.”
“For God’s sake, what are you girls playing at?” said the man with exasperation. “Just give me my keys back before I lose my patience.”
“Oooh, you’re soooo gorgeous when you’re angry,” said Terri, revelling in the man’s annoyance. “Now do you want your keys back or not? It’s a long way home.”
“I don’t believe this,” said the man, his impatience soon replaced by tacit compliance as the clinking of the keys caught his attention again. “But you’d better give me my keys back this time, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“It’s a deal,” said Terri, grinning.
Looking uncomfortable, the stranger undid the buttons on his shirt, revealing a muscular torso, and placed it neatly on the bonnet of the car. Terri waved the keys once more as his fingers fumbled over the buckle on his belt.
“Yes, and the trousers,” said Terri, unable to contain her laughter, “And don’t forget the pants. You can leave the socks on though - I like a man in the buff with his socks on. It speaks so much of his style.”
Lisa erupted with laughter.
“Bitch,” said the man, pulling his off his jeans and flinging them into a nearby bush. Then with a dramatic flourish he whipped off his underpants and hurtled them across the car bonnet into the lay-by where they caught on a fence post, hanging in the air like a white flag of defeat.
“I hope you like what you see,” said the man, his sarcasm turning to humour as the girls giggled out loud.
“He’s a big boy,” said Lisa.
“Yes, and if he gets any bigger I’ll be able to hang my washing out,” replied Terri, admiring the man’s assets.
At that moment the high pitched voices of the Bee Gees and a disco classic reverberated from the car.
“Okay, pretty boy. Dance. Travolta style,” said Terri, inspired by the thumping music.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said the man, raising his eyes to the heavens in bewilderment.
“Nope. Dance. Come on, get moving. We haven’t got all day!”
The man stared at Terri’s resolute face, and then reluctantly started to sway his hips while the sexy beat that had swept generations onto the dance floor blasted out into the countryside.
“I’ve seen more movement in a corpse,” shouted Terri. “You can do better. No need to be shy!”
The man stared vehemently back at Terri, speeding up his gyrations as Terri continued heckling him.
“Come on, baby. Shake that booty. You know you want to!”
Lisa was bent double with laughter, tears running down her cheeks, as wearing only his socks, the man started exaggerating his hip movements to the chorus of Saturday Night Fever.
“Move those hips. Put some passion into it. Shake that butt!” said Terri.
The man turned around and wriggled his bottom furiously at the girls.
“That’s more like it,” cried Terri, enjoying her role. “Now the arm actions. Show us your groove!”
Up went the man’s right arm pointing to the sky and then down to the opposite hip. Turning back around to face them, up went his left arm and back down to his right hip. Now completely uninhibited, the man performed to the girls like a disco king.
“Oh my God, I think I’m going to wet my knickers,” said Lisa, now prostrate upon the floor, clutching her stomach and gasping for breath between bursts of uncontrollable giggles. “I think I’m gonna die and go to heaven.”
“I’m already there,” grinned Terri, casting her eyes over the stranger’s naked body. Returning her grin, the man gyrated his pelvis for her appreciation. “Boy, he can really move.”
“Oh my goodness, I think I’m going to pass out,” said Lisa, wiping away her tears.
“Come on, it’s the last chorus, give it your all. We want to see some real effort!” cried Terri.
The man continued dancing with abandon until the song came to an end. Terri held out the keys. Breathless and rosy cheeked, the stranger strode unashamedly over to the girls. Bending down, he retrieved his phone from Lisa’s bra as she lay curled up in a ball in the middle of the road, still laughing.
“Naughty girl,” said the man before turning to Terri and holding his hand out to receive the keys. “And you, young lady. I guess you’d like to see more of my moves?”
“I…um…ah…” Terri’s eyes flicked downwards, her cheeks turning crimson. When she looked up the man was grinning with amusement. Terri dropped the keys in his palm.
“Hmm…lost for words,” said the stranger. “That makes a change. Now unfortunately, I have a meeting to attend. A pity. I was just getting into the mood.” The man’s eyes twinkled with merriment. “But who knows, maybe we’ll meet again.”
Collecting his scattered clothes, the man put his clothes back on with no sign of his earlier embarrassment. Then, with a farewell salute, he jumped back into his car, fired up the engine and pulled out of the lay-by. As the car approached Terri and Lisa, the driver’s window slid down. The man leaned out of the window and handed Terri a business card.
“See you around, girls,” he winked and, with a roar from the engine, he sped off into the distance.
“Who is he?” said Lisa.
Terri looked down at the card. “It says, ʽMike Morgan, Car Valeting Service. Whenever. Wherever. We dance to your tune.ʼ ”
“Oh my God, do you think it wasn’t his car?” said Lisa. “And he isn’t rich?”
“Who knows,” grinned Terri. “But I’m not complaining. He certainly danced to our tune.”
© Jane Turley 2009.
Caught Short is now part of my short story collection A Modern Life which can be found on Amazon. It contains thirteen short stories of varying styles, including some as equally daft as this one!