Temptation Close

by Scarlett Rush

  He didn’t move except to pull the neck scarf down beneath his chin as she got out and stood nervously by her car.

  ‘Isn’t it a wonderful day for finding out that certain things aren’t quite as scary as you think?’ he said.

  ‘That depends,’ she replied, managing a welcoming smile although her heart was banging.

  ‘The first time you sat for me you said riding on a bike like mine struck you as being one of the scariest things you could imagine. I remember you saying that you could understand the thrill of it and sometimes wished you had the courage to try such things but, as you put it, you were forever destined to wimp out. These roads have to be the safest I can possibly imagine for bike riding. They are deserted, flat as pancakes, no potholes anywhere and with wide verges and long straight sections. As long as I kept the speed down there would be no possibility whatsoever of me having any kind of accident, don’t you agree?’

  ‘Well, I guess so, unless you hit a deer that rushed out, or a squirrel.’

  ‘As long as I was doing less than about two hundred I’m sure I would see any wild animal that rushed out in time to either brake or avoid it - assuming the squirrel or deer wasn’t also on a motorbike doing the same speed as me. This road is as safe as any I have known, which is why you are going to get on the back of my bike and let me take you for a little ride.’

  Even though she was a little relieved this meeting was not about getting her to shed layers, even though the road was indeed as benign a stretch as she could imagine, she still felt another cold sweep inside to accompany her flitting stomach. It was just automatic with her.

  ‘I’m not sure that I can,’ she said, feeling weak and ridiculous.

  ‘You can,’ he said, already reaching into the rucksack to produce a spare crash helmet. ‘I will keep the speed right down and I won’t let anything happen to you.’

  She believed him but she couldn’t have said no anyway. She always knew that whatever he asked of her she would have done. She put the helmet on and nodded her way through his instructions on how to mount up and perch upon the tiny pillion behind his saddle. The design of the bike meant she would have to lean close into his back, holding him around his waist. All she had to do was grip with her legs and try not to squeeze him too tight. Nothing could go wrong, surely? Still she was shaking. The engine gave a loud rip as he started it up. She could already feel the huge power. He climbed on and then signalled her to mount up. She felt like she was about to bungee jump or skydive, even though sense told her there was nowhere near the same danger element.

  Once on she instinctively held him tight, leaning right into his back, clasping the safety of his solidity. He reached down to loosen her hands a little.

  ‘Remember, grip with your legs not with your hands, or you might end up crushing me,’ he said over the throb of the engine. ‘If you feel yourself slipping back under acceleration, just grip harder with your legs. You can’t come off - physics won’t allow it.’

  Before she had a chance to answer he had flipped up the stand, popped the bike into gear and dropped his visor down, and then they were away. She would have shrieked if not for the fact they were only pootling along, at a speed that wouldn’t even have scared Victorians. He kept it at that pace until she was silently willing him to open the throttle more, and then he sensed this and complied, adding maybe only ten miles per hour to his previous rate. He went up the road to a wider area, turned, and took her back past her car. He then turned in the refinery’s exit and made the same journey back and forth three more times, increasing his speed just a little each time so that she barely noticed him doing it.

  It was indeed as harmless a trip as he had claimed, verging on boring considering the potential fury the engine possessed.

  ‘Is that it?’ she exclaimed as he stopped next to her car, her new-found bravery wanting to push the limits.

  ‘No, it is not,’ he replied, cutting the engine so he could be heard more clearly. ‘That is only Phase One of my operation. Phase Two will require a little more from you.’

  It most certainly would. She listened in silence, biting her lip as he told her what was required. She was to go to the cover of the woods and, behind a bush, strip off all her clothes and put them into his rucksack. She was to return wearing only her robe and the flat shoes she had on. It was an exercise in overcoming her feelings of vulnerability and ridiculousness, or so he told her in answer to her bewildered expression. She still wasn’t sure if that was all it was about but she trusted him and she was feeling more daring than she could remember, so she did exactly as he had told her.

  She picked the undergrowth with the best cover, noting that he had kindly stopped his bike directly across from where the vegetation was thickest. It wasn’t some ploy to sneak a peek at her from afar. He gallantly wasn’t even looking her way. She checked behind her to make sure she was alone, although there wouldn’t and couldn’t be anyone hiding out here, no dog-walkers picking their way through the un-tracked pinewoods. It was silent but for a single clear birdsong.

  The air was warm on her bare skin and felt inviting, but didn’t quite stop the shake of her hand as she rushed to fold her discarded top layers and put them into the rucksack. More haste, less speed, as always with her. Down to her underwear she felt the tightness in her chest, the rise of panic. She peered through the foliage again, trying to snatch a glimpse of him. He was back to his arms-folded position, leaning against the bike, looking up at the sky. She took a breath and then unclipped her bra, wriggling out of it and stuffing it in the bag. She steeled herself again and then down came her knickers - one of only two or three pairs she owned that might fall into the category of sexy. So then she was naked. Imagine if she was wrong about him. Imagine if she took another peek now and saw him coming for her, timing it to perfection, catching her when she had no time to conceal herself. But he was simply looking at his phone, perhaps reading a text. Incredibly, she thought she felt a tinge of disappointment. She knew she was actually stalling covering herself up.

  She emerged in her stripy robe, feeling silly just as he predicted, and placed the rucksack by her car as instructed. She’d felt less foolish for those moments she was naked in the bushes. The warmth of the day on her bareness had transferred some kind of energy. It had at least felt more natural. If he had asked her to do this anywhere other than this deserted road she would have died of embarrassment. Even now she was worried that the one person in a million might come along and see her like this. He restarted the bike and signalled for her to mount up. It was a truly bizarre test to put her through. Immediately as she lifted her leg to climb on she felt the vulnerability of her nudity beneath the gown, the cool of the air reaching areas she didn’t even like her husband seeing in daylight. The thickness of the towelling was suddenly rendered pointless by her spread thighs, open around him. She automatically pressed close to his back, trying to ensure her modesty was covered, and put her hands around his waist.

  ‘Forget everything but the enjoyment you feel,’ he called back to her, and then moved off while she was still trying to digest the wisdom of his words. He maintained a slow pace for his first up-and-down but then surprised her with a new sequence of a sudden quick burst of acceleration followed by immediate heavy breaking. The rapid burst of speed was breath-stopping, the engine suddenly sounding like a giant angry hornet as the bike travelled insanely quickly in such a short space of time. It left her stomach behind. Although there was no apparent danger ahead her body still reacted to the surge of speed. It fizzed out warning signs that were instantly placated by the heavy deceleration that drove her thighs forward and pressed her into his behind.

  The whole sequence lasted no more than a few seconds but left her panting. He kept to his normal pace for the next hundred yards and then repeated his new sequence. Any feelings of ridiculousness about her robe went by the wayside. Now all she could feel was the alarming rush of the
acceleration quickly morphing into the mortifying thrill of being squashed to him, her robe surely now not even covering her nakedness beneath. The bike beneath her felt wild and untameable, deadly despite having only being put through the most basic of its paces. Imagine if he really opened her up. Up and down he took her, stretching the time before turning back, giving longer bursts of acceleration then braking hard to a speed that just seemed painfully slow, even if it was no less than she had been going in her car to reach him.

  The wind swarmed through the open weave of her towelling gown, the speed turning it cold enough to make her skin shrink and raise the hairs upon it, forcing her nipples to tighten and grow. She knew how long and almost painfully hard they could become, and how obvious they would feel pressed into his back, even through his jacket. As soon as the speed dropped, her gown became almost immediately too hot under the sun, making her skin itch and feel clammy, so that she longed again for him to open the throttle and take her faster. But she wanted that hard deceleration too, the slide forward across the tiny leather seat and the crush against him.

  Her fear didn’t leave. Each time the monster she was sat upon shrieked and sped she felt the spurt of adrenalin. But it was a fear she wanted. It was exhilaration. As long as she kept hold of him nothing could go wrong. Each part had its benefits. The slow parts were the breaths between, the chance to yearn for the next burst. The acceleration sent the excitement and dread pouring through her, had him slipping back against her between her open legs, had her gripping tighter. The deceleration moved her into him, and she could press as close as she wanted because it was forces and physics making it happen. She knew, even though she dared not dwell upon the notion, that the thrill was not just one of speed. It was sexual.

  When he slowed down to a stop by her car she only wanted him to go on. She felt exalted and free and adventurous. It was riskless danger, her safety assured by one who would never let anything bad happen or ever misjudge a situation. It was an odd experiment but undeniably one that made her realise her fears could be misplaced, as long as someone like him was in control. The wearing of the robe, she knew, was less about feeling vulnerable and more about reaching a sense of abandonment. And she did indeed feel as wild and daring as she could remember. Shame it was now to end.

  ‘I could have gone on,’ she called out to him over the lesser noise of the now more sedate beast beneath her.

  ‘We are not done yet,’ he said. ‘We have got Phase Three to come. This time you have to do it without your robe on.’

  She was immediately wide-eyed and spouting excuses but for once she wasn’t tying up inside. She still had the smile on her face. The dread wasn’t gripping her and making her head spin.

  ‘That’s just mad!’ she said, not sure now whether she wanted him to agree and give up or force the issue.

  ‘There is no one around here except me, and I am in the one position that stops me from seeing you at all. It’s a freebie - a naked freebie. You get to zoom around in public with no clothes on without any danger of being seen by anyone. Think of the fun!’

  It was true. No one was there. He could barely turn his head even half around towards her and she was pressed too tight against him to reveal anything anyway. At best he might see some bare flank in his mirrors but presumably his concentration would be on the road ahead. This could be it: the pivotal moment. As much as her defences told her she mustn’t there was no logic to back the argument up. It was just cravenness for the sake of it.

  ‘But what if someone did come along? It’s not impossible.’

  ‘Even if they did, which they won’t, what difference would it make? They can’t see your face with that helmet on. They don’t know your car, or me or my bike. You could ride right up to them, slap them on the arse, and still they wouldn’t ever have the slightest clue that it was you. It’s just like I said - a naked freebie!’

  She didn’t know how she made herself do it but he must have seen the flash of her discarded robe at his side and he was off before she could change her mind. She clung close, her heart racing faster than the raging engine, her cheeks burning beneath the helmet that would keep her secret. He didn’t need the speed up-slow down sequences this time. Her body was too alive without them. He went faster and further than before, a mile or more out before turning, banking gently into the slight bends with nature flashing green and yellow beside them.

  The air was cold on her exposed skin but the goose bumps stayed even when he slowed enough for the sun to feel suddenly hot again. She had a vision of him taking her gently from the bike and laying her face down upon the grass verge, of running his nails slowly all the way up her calves, behind her knees, up the backs of her thighs, over her behind and along her spine, up her neck and to the top of her head. She knew he wouldn’t even reach half way before it took her over and made her shake.

  It was good to be pressed into him, to be holding him even though it was silently known to them both that this ride was giving her a ruder pleasure than just the thrill of speed. Her nudity magnified the buzz a thousand-fold. It made her heart soar and her mind blur. The throb of engine power was unleashed like wildfire under her, shooting right to her centre. Her bare breasts were pressed to his back, her open thighs in contact with his legs, her naked crotch just millimetres from his behind and set at any moment to be forced into it under deceleration. The evidence of her joy was likely to be left on her tiny pillion seat, but she couldn’t care about such things. The kick was scintillating and soul-changing, and it was only a ride on the back of a bike.

  There was no way to know yet if she had been cured but she did know that she hadn’t wanted it to end when it did. He slowed to a standstill with the robe alongside them. She didn’t have the courage to ask for more. Maybe it was best to give up while the going was good, before she got really carried away.

  ‘Will you look away until I’ve covered up again?’ she called to him.

  He dropped the revs down to their lowest, a gentle purr. ‘I’m sorry, but we are not quite finished yet. We still have Phase Four of “Operation Godiva” to come. Just remember - with that helmet on, no one can ever know that it’s you.’

  And then they were off again, his words going over in her mind, the implication clear. There was nothing she could do but cling on and feel the excitement and trepidation unload once more. He sped them through the flat roads, past the point where they had previously gone, way past it. He took her over the rise that she knew led to the open roads, the speed not worrying her now. She gripped with her thighs and let him take her. He came to the junction and turned, but not back the way he had come. He went on the thinner, rougher tarmac surface towards the little run of villages that lined the way toward the main road home. He was taking her towards civilisation and public exposure. She couldn’t tell him no, so instead she just gave out a long whoop, one of dread and exhilaration combined - one of those you might give if you stepped off a bridge to plummet towards the waters far below, simply trusting that the line tied to your leg would hold.

  Dream Reality

  When it happened for Maria it was like a dream. The pieces fell into place with surreal ease and there were touches of precise oddity usually only reserved for night time imaginings. Even during it, when her body was shuddering with the full intensity, the utter simplicity of how it came about would make it feel unreal. To think it started with something as invidious as a virus - not hers but her husband’s - some kind of flu that came on with aching, wasting, fever-imbuing remorselessness, so that mere hours from the first soreness noticed in the throat he was plastered to the sheets, shivering and sweating and not far from delirium. Give him his due, he was never ill enough for it to outweigh the chance of working and making money, so this time it had to be bad.

  The crux of it all was that by coincidence she was on a day off, forced upon her to ensure she got all her holiday entitlement for the year. Nothing had been planned. Ther
e was vague talk about her husband joining her for the day, or at least for lunch, until his illness put paid to that. Once she had seen the kids off to school she envisaged a day spent at leisure, hopefully without having to waste it tending to him, although she knew she would almost certainly stick around to be at his beck and call. It would cause too much of a scene if she went out and left him there alone. He would end up in a huff or getting nasty. From the school she drove to the little run of shops in the village centre to get him some throat sweets and a flu remedy, not that she foresaw any of these actually working. It was there that she walked headlong into Hunter.

  She practically bounced off his chest, dropping the medicine packet she had been busily reading the back of, rather than noticing where she was going. The embarrassment had her flustered from the start, although there was some relief after scrabbling around his feet to retrieve the dropped package that it proved to be him and not some random stern-faced stranger. His expression was impassive, as if this was exactly the type of behaviour he might expect from her, or any girl that ran into him for that matter. Being known to the person she had collided with did not prevent her heart-rush. It was him after all, and any sightings of her most alluring neighbour always came with an instant increase of the pulse, especially such face to face meetings.