She revved up the engine of her trusty Tercel, happy to have wheels on such a frigid night. The track was an awkward place to get to by TTC. Heading north to the 401 on deserted streets, she thought how she’d much prefer to be driving that sleek, white Prelude she had her eye on; two-door, air conditioned; everything push button and automatic, but she enjoyed changing gears. She could picture that slick chick in the purple swimsuit sitting next to her, her thighs and shoulders still glistening from droplets of water after her swim.
“Oh God Sid, you do dream on. You wouldn’t want water all over the front seat of your new Honda now would you?” she chided herself, as she turned onto the highway, but still well travelled by the heavy transports. Her turn off was Belfield, then she’d soon be home. Home. It was funny to call it that … one small room in a residence. No kitchen facilities, just a tiny bathroom off to one side. She was lucky. She had the place to herself. When the season got busier, she’d have to share.
When she had moved, she bought a second-hand bar fridge and coffeemaker. The main meal of the day she ate at the track canteen, like all the other stable lads. The company was pretty rough and the food uninspired, but she was trying to save for the fall. She was careful what she ate and followed a strict regimen; it had to be balanced. In the last month she would increase her first class protein intake and was already concentrating on carbohydrates. She preferred fish to red meat. Vegetarianism interested her, but with competitive bodybuilding she couldn’t do both.
It had been a long day. Almost three o’clock when she pulled into the parking lot. She was glad she was a good sleeper. Two and a half hours only. The stables where she worked were closer to the main gate than many others, so she didn’t have far to go. On the bike it took five minutes. The Security checkpoint knew her well; a cheery wave was all that was needed to get her through. In the wee small hours it was a different matter, the guards were constantly changing. She had to present herself at the office and show her pass. This was photo ID. Security was strict at the track, millions of dollars on the hoof slept behind these fences, not to mention the potential millions in prize money these magnificent horses represented. Once she’d forgotten to front up at the office; all hell broke loose, sirens blaring, huge spotlights turned on and someone with a loud hailer telling her to freeze. She never made that mistake again.
Her boss, Michael McTeer always arrived late and trusted her to open up. She was happy she worked for a good outfit. They were sincere about their horses’ welfare. There was one person she wasn’t keen on, an exercise rider. He was mean-spirited and she suspected him of yanking, and over-use of the crop. His horses came back skittish, their sides streaked with foam and hard to handle. She always had to gentle them down.
Sidonie was a hot walker. The grooms took over after she’d finished with the mounts, putting her in the best place to know how the horses had enjoyed, or not, their daily workout. By the time they finished their twenty minute cool-down, walking with her round the stable yard, they would be ready for the groom. It was during this period the grooms cleaned the stalls. After all the horses had been seen to, she swept the yard and dubbined the tack. Her final chore before lunch, was to give the horses their feed and fresh water. After lunch the stables were eerily quiet, the horses resting. The next feed was at four o’clock, the grooms’ responsibility. Between twelve noon and one o’clock, her working day was over.
Unlocking her door, she experienced that welcome blanket of warmth; central heating she didn’t have to pay for. Currently her rent was $80:00 per week in advance, but if she shared, that would go down. The room had two single beds, rather like a motel. She couldn’t stand clutter and in a confined space like this, was careful to maintain her belongings in strict order. Right now, she guessed, it was like being in the army, a place for everything and everything in its place. She smiled to herself, as the hackneyed words took her back to her girlhood. Her Ma would try to maintain order in the house, but the little ones were not interested in putting toys away. She would say it to them in the same voice her mother used, all firm, brooking no nonsense. Being the eldest she was expected to reinforce house rules and to police the goings on. Billy was a handful; his spirit wilful. They were too close in age to make it easy for her to lord it over him, only three and a half years between them. He always put up a fight. Chelsey was difficult in her own way; ten months younger than Billy. She had been a mistake. After Billy, when Mavis had known that Dan would not stick by them, to her shame, she had tried to abort the next baby. The attempt had been unsuccessful and the baby had been born brain-damaged. Now Chelsey was retarded and would always need looking after. With a loving disposition she tended to be spoiled; surprisingly adept at getting her own way. Her social conditioning was an arduous task. Much of the time Mavis was away at work, so it fell to Sidonie. What a struggle, the load too heavy for such young shoulders. Billy and Chelsey were teenagers now, but their idiosyncrasies were still intact. However, Billy had learned to take some responsibility.
Sidonie handed over a cheque regularly and Mavis depended heavily on this. The contribution made up a little for her absence. Going over to the house once a month was not often enough for them, but she had to be strong; avoid being swamped. If that happened, she feared she would come to resent her commitments instead of, as now, feeling felicitous.
A voluminous old T-shirt, the colors of the moose representing Moosehead beer from Sudbury, long since faded, was Sidonie’s favorite nightwear. She responded to the softness of the fabric against her skin. It had been washed that many times, it was a luxurious delight to slip it over her body. She wanted to sleep; needed to sleep. The alarm would ring all too soon, but somehow – not tonight. Her thoughts kept reverting to the phantasmal Honda, or more specifically, the sensuous woman reclining in the passenger seat. This was ridiculous. She had seen her for not above two minutes. “Long enough to take in the salient points,” her alter ego chipped in.
“There’s got to be a face, Dummy.” she admonished her ego.
“Hell, perhaps next time you can be smart enough to get the face and complete the picture? Canoe Head,” her alter ego retorted.
“Enough, enough. I’ve got to have sleep. You’re cut off.”
* * *
This was an unstructured weekend. Following work she went to the canteen for lunch. It was noisy and hot after the relative quiet and stillness of the outdoors. The horses breath had hung in clouds about their heads as they snorted and pawed the ground, young dragons in the making. The servers were hopping today, everyone in a hurry it seemed. She found a seat at a table where she could watch the videos of yesterday’s races. Some of the lads followed them with avid interest, not she. Seeing these magnificent beasts in motion was glorious. They were built for speed and when it all came together it was a privilege to watch the rippling muscles moving in co-ordinated action. She believed the horseracing world was exploiting these beautiful animals. At two years old they were still immature, both physically and mentally. The stress on their body could be excessive. Breakdowns were common. Even at four years, they could still be emotionally unstable, acting up on the track and running amuck. She felt six was the ideal age for their racing pleasure.
It was important to Sidonie, stuck out as she was at the track, to keep in touch with friends in the city. Unfortunately no one could call her. Many had urged her to purchase a mobile phone, but this was out of the question on her wages. Instead, she kept a ready stack of quarters on hand in her red and white Canada mailbox, moneybox. The public phone was located in the walkway giving access from the back of the dormitory to the offices at the front. It was a cold, draughty spot, discouraging anyone to linger and chat.
She shrugged into her down-filled parka, quarters at the ready and slipped along past two rooms to the kiosk. She wanted feedback on last night. Dale and Shaneen were very pleased with the outcome. It had led to another booking for a gig at one of the clubs in Oshawa.
Next she checked in with Milka. She go
t Edina, Milka being at her mother’s, helping her get the house in shape after winter.
‘Listen, I’ll try and get over one day, soon.’
‘Yes. It’s been too long. We’ll forget what you look like,’ Edina quipped.
She made one other call, but Reine and Thea were out. That was it. Time to get on with her chores. Collecting her laundry, she took it round to the machines. While it was going through the cycles she moved on to cleaning. The dormitories were regularly inspected. It was given to the security to fulfil this duty. They would pick at random, but she never had any trouble. She was extremely conscientious over her personal space. It was pleasing to her eye to have everything looking as good as she could make it. Yes, it was just a single room in a women’s residence, but it didn’t have to be grotty.
Later, when the laundry had been washed and dried, she put the basket on one side for ironing and set off for Woodbine Mall to find something to eat. Wearing casual jeans and her sturdy boots, she took the short cut across wasteland, buffeted by freezing winds. Patches of dirty snow still remained in the deeper hollows. She crossed Highway #27 to Rexdale.
Woodbine Mall was a popular hangout for youngsters on the weekend, being a large, modern replica of all the other malls which had sprung up on the outskirts of Toronto. Treating herself to the delicious spare ribs they had at Swiss Chalet, she drizzled over their special tangy sauce. She preferred the large, baked potato, rather than fries, and the side salad, resisting dessert. Movies playing at the Cineplex included DANCES WITH WOLVES. She’d heard good reports and liked Kevin Costner. The early screening would suit her.
Sunday was a most sweet day weatherwise, the sky, such an intense blue, the cumulus in contrast, almost blinded the eye and there was not one shower-filled cloud to be seen. After work she packed her gym bag, threw it into the trunk and headed off to High Park. A Sunday with no commitments meant she could spend extra time. Membership allowed limitless visits, without extra charge. She had gotten in through Milka, on a special offer and Milka had helped her, financially. Paying back in instalments, she was now home free.
Sundays; it was never certain if the place would be busy or quiet, but usually the latter. She wondered if she might run into Kelly or Serena, her Amazon competitors, but workout pals in their mutual quest for perfection. It was going to be them against the others, so they gave each other moral support. She found it a most rewarding form of friendship. She was coming to realize there was more than one type of amicable concord. All friendly associations had their different attributes. She no longer moved in the world of best friend or out. There was room for all kinds.
Not spotting either of them, she checked the register. Ashley, who was in charge today, gave her a warm greeting. Serena had been in earlier, but not Kelly. She changed into gym gear; a sleeveless orange muscle shirt, straps crossing in back and black, mid-thigh Lycra pants, keeping her body as uncovered as possible. She could really work up a sweat: no sweat. White gym shoes and socks both featured an orange stripe. She slipped a black sweatband round her blonde hair and across her brow, just above the ears.
Two women were already on the circuit when she did her warm up on the bike. “We’ll have our pick of equipment today,” she thought, with satisfaction. Progressing around, she gave herself a thorough workout on the leg press. She had just finished strapping on the broad, leather back belt and was drawing on her second glove, when in walked the girl of her fantasies. Her heart started skipping beats as she got a good look at the face and saw her to be stunningly beautiful. Those large, dark eyes, the lashes long, thick and curling against the smooth curve of her cheek, made you want to look forever. Gooseflesh rose over her body as she ceased movement, all senses alert to this gorgeous creature. A perfect mouth, the red lips full and rounded against flawless amber skin. One could die to feel their softness. Her hair, drawn back from her face into a ponytail, cascaded to her shoulders in long, dark-brown, almost black waves. Highlights glinted under the fluoro lights giving the curls a burnished sheen. She was a dream come true.
‘Steady,’ Sidonie admonished herself, as she inhaled deep breaths to help bring her pumping heart back to normal. Her head swam crazily, dizzy from the impact. A force she couldn’t resist had hit her and a fever of excitement was running through her. With enormous effort she pulled her eyes away and turned her attention to the weights. Rocked to her foundations, recovery was not easy. Aim for nonchalance. But the breath had been knocked out of her and inside she was in a turmoil of heightened emotion. No one had ever had this effect on her before and she was reeling, as if from an invisible blow. She bent down to load up the first set of weights on the barbell and was suddenly aware that her hands were shaking. This sudden rush of her senses had brought her completely off balance.
While she went through her routine, she covertly observed the stranger. She was wearing a black top that looked to her more like it was for dance than sport and bright pink shorts and socks. Taking in the whole of her like this she could see she had a slim build and really looked very fit. Warming up, there was a graceful ease on the bike, the legs smooth and powerful against the resistance of the pedals. Yes the legs were long and she would be tall. She gave a slight lift to her shoulders and sighed: “Can’t have it all your own way, kid.”
“Crazy Dingbat, you’ve not got anything, yet,” the voice in her head corrected.
“Shut up. Let me concentrate,” already starting over, having lost count, distraction being total.
Tenille checked her watch. Ten minutes were up. She moved on to her first piece of apparatus, the leg press. Ashley had set her up with this, but she thought she could remember what to do. She would have to unload it first. Her card said 20 kgs. Whoever had used this last was a strong woman. All these big weights. It was a struggle moving them, even with both hands and she was making such a clatter. Suddenly she heard a voice behind her, husky, with a pleasing depth to it, taking her by surprise, in a woman.
‘Need a hand?’
She straightened and turned to look into the most intense, blue-green eyes she had ever seen. They gleamed in their brilliance. She saw sweat glistening in a thin film over the brow and upper lip; exertion had made the small, round mouth very red. A hot wash of color suffused beneath the skin of her cheeks as she continued to stare, bewitched by the striking allure of this attractive face. Then she remembered her manners. However, as she attempted a reply her breath caught in her throat and nothing seemed to want to work. All she could feel was this erratic hammering of her heart in her breast as her eyes took in the young woman’s body, covered in what looked like a multi-colored second skin, revealing in detail the rounded contours of firm breasts, the nipples erect, thrusting toward her. Her proximity like this made the color flood to her cheeks even more, as she became all too aware of the hard, muscular body, so close. A power was radiating from her, too penetrating, and she was unable to do anything about it. She became completely flustered. Then these fantastic eyes locked onto hers as the low voice said: ‘Here let me do that for you,’ and a strong, capable hand reached out and took the weight from her trembling grasp.
‘Sorry, I should have removed them when I finished,’ Sidonie apologized. ‘My thoughtlessness.’
She stood there, woodenly, saying nothing as the girl worked away, setting everything up for her. So they were her legs which had hefted all those weights. She couldn’t repress a quick look down to see the muscles in question. Ah. She watched her check the card to be sure she had everything prepared correctly and finally step back.
‘There you are. All set to go,’ said that voice which seemed to resonate through her body. She had not yet said a word. She had watched the lithe movements as they moved before her eyes, noting the strong ripple of muscle in arms and legs. How she had bent in front of her, the buttocks taut and well defined above those thick, athletic thighs. She had never before been so overcome by the sheer physicality of another’s body. Never. She could only watch in dumb bewilderment, as she felt de
sire surging through her, coming to pool in her secret places, leaving her hot and wet, one pulsating need to reach out and feel this woman next to her; to be held by those thrilling arms and crushed against the whole length of that thick-set, exciting physique.
She indicated the seat for her to take. She sat.
‘You have to put your legs up against the plates’ Sidonie told her in a stilted voice, through breaths that were heavy and irregular. Then she asked: ‘Have you done this before?’ as she gazed down into those large, dark eyes; deep pools of unfathomable thoughts into which she could feel herself drowning.
Now, with Tenille lying back in the seat and looking up into this handsome face looking down on hers, she could only nod, mutely. Oh, she felt so foolish; so embarrassed. All strength had gone from her legs. How could she possibly lift 20 kilograms? She took a deep breath and managed a weak smile.
‘Thank you.’
Sidonie watched as she ran the pink tip of her glistening tongue around dry lips. She licked her own then said softly, her voice even lower: ‘Call me if you need assistance again, my name’s Sidonie. Sidonie Henderson.’ She went back to her own program, but couldn’t get into it. Being so close to that woman had completely unnerved her. She’d been mistaken in thinking she was a girl. She was obviously a lot older than she and also very straight. She had checked the left hand, but that didn’t always mean anything.
“Be sensible Sid, she’s not for you,” she told herself, fiercely. “Get your body under control … if you can’t work, go for a swim and cool off.”
Ashley popped into the gym to see if everything was humming along nicely. She went over to Tenille.
‘You okay here?’ She was almost at the end of her program.
Outing of the Heart Page 24
