Chapter 21: Temptations and Dreams

Meri

What a day it had been in the Netherlands.

For starters, literally everybody was speaking an excellent English. I had been to many countries as an athlete, but the Dutch were definitely the ones who made it very easy for me to rely on my native language. In Germany I had to do with my heavily accented German. For an American it was almost surreal to speak two different languages in two towns that were just thirty miles from each other.

Granted, the travel by car was closer to sixty miles as you had to go around the large mouth of the Ems river, but still, such a close proximity of two different languages was unknown to any American except those in the deep south, close to the Mexican border.

The American driving test is, to use a technical term, a complete joke. You basically pass it if you manage not to drool on the dashboard. That’s why I was a bit apprehensive about going by car for the first time. Of course, having just arrived, it was a hire car. Especially the famed Autobahn felt intimidating at first. At least Lydia and Mark had warned me that most cars in Europe use manual transmission. Thankfully Mark’s friend Jonjo had a manual and he had given me quick lessons in using a stick shift, in between him coming home from Germany and me leaving for it.

On normal country roads you have a speed limit of sixty miles per hour, which is already higher than what you’re allowed to do in some parts of America, and then you suddenly find yourself on a strip of finest tarmac that has no speed limit at all – theoretically, as Mark had made really sure I was aware.

The basic deal is this. You are allowed to go as fast as you like on some parts of the Autobahn, but there’s an advisory speed limit of 130 kph – about eighty miles per hour. If you go faster, you’re doing nothing illegal, but in case of an accident, you get part of the blame, no matter who caused the crash.

That question was however none that presented itself on my first outing. Intimidated by being overtaken at what felt like the speed of sound, I slotted my little Volkswagen something in between two trucks and trundled along in the right lane, at whatever speed they were going. Mind you, they were doing nearly sixty miles an hour at times, so I wasn’t necessarily moving at glacial speeds.

It took me about ninety minutes to arrive at the training grounds, so I gathered I could probably shave it down to an hour once I felt a bit more secure in European traffic.

The team was absolutely fantastic. The coaching team had assembled the entire roster, just to welcome me – wow. After being shown around and answering a lot of questions of my new team mates, we got down to the administrative work, getting me registered and into proper kit. My team mates were just grinning when I casually ditched my clothes to try on the cycling gear, while the coach was still in the room. I think I even heard some gasps when my two most prominent assets plopped out of the bra. Those weren’t coming from the coach, but from some of my fellow team mates, who were all women.

Once I had the Lycra suit on, I checked myself out in the mirror. With the heavily constricting sports bra underneath, I didn’t look quite as top-heavy as I usually did. And, damn did I have a fine piece of ass in those Spandex pants, if I may ‘humbly’ say so. Okay, with all the sponsor stickers everywhere I was looking like a NASCAR Chevy with tits, but a well-shaped one. I liked that kit immediately.

“You gave the coach quite an eye-full,” one of my team-mates cackled after I had changed back into my street clothes. “I’ve always thought Americans are squeamish about undressing.”

“Not this American,” I told her casually. “I’ve been in the Playboy and I’ve done a naked photo-shoot for FHM. Unless the coach is gay, he has probably seen me before.”

“Now I know from where I remember,” another girl chipped in. “Your boobs were the big lights on the lighthouse.”

All other team mates looked at her as if she had just said something in Klingon. By the time I had explained how Lydia and I had posed with a lighthouse painted on our naked bodies, most of them were in stitches as now the uttering of their team mate started to make sense.

One of the girls, her name was Femke, had apparently gotten some photo offers as well, and looking at her, I wasn’t really surprised. So she asked me about it, how it was like and stuff like that. All other team mates listened with interest.

“Before you accept such an offer, make sure you’re really comfortable with the thought. This won’t be some photographer taking a few quick snaps of you. There will be an entire production team, and mostly men, because the equipment they use is heavy. If you aren’t comfortable being naked in front of a bunch of guys all day, don’t do it. It doesn’t only ruin your day, but theirs as well. After all they’re just doing their job.”

“Isn’t there, you know, tension?” one of the other girls asked.

“If you mean guys running around with a boner all day, no,” I said and the whole changing room was filled with giggles. “This is a highly professional operation. In fact, when you get such an offer, ask about the venue and how big the production team will be. If they come back with an exciting location and they are at the very least a team of fifteen, then you can be reasonably sure this is a professionally run team. Never, ever, accept an offer from a production team of three behind the bike shed.”

Everybody was laughing.

“And make sure you do it for the right reasons,” I told them. “The money is a fine bonus, but if that’s your only reason, don’t do it. If people realize you’re doing it mostly for the money, you’re going to end up in the porn industry one day.”

“What were you doing it for?” Femke asked me.

“Several reasons,” I explained. “The first was getting talked about. Track and Field is almost a niche sport in America. Showing off my body put a lot of bums in seats at track and field meetings. And I had a message to people. You have to understand that we have an obesity problem in America. My message to women was: You don’t have to get fat. Run around in circles, eat a healthy diet and you can look like me.”

“You do realize that most women don’t buy the Playboy?” a girl name Amelie reminded me.

“No they don’t. But they’re the ones who actually read the article the pictures belong to.”

Our talk soon turned to other topics, now that Femke’s curiosity was satisfied.

Mark

When Meri came home in the evening, I could tell she was pretty tired. Thankfully the veritable army of craftsmen had managed to fill both houses with furniture and I made sure the one that she and Bea would live in was ready first. There were still some bits and pieces left in mine and mom’s half but that could wait until the next day.

“Exciting day?” I asked when Meri dragged herself in.

“Tomorrow, sweetie. Just show me where I can pass out, please.”

Although they were technically two houses, they were using a joint inner wall, so you could get from one house to the other by using a single door in that wall, in the basement. I led Meri to the other house, helped her out of her clothes, keeping them intact this time, and tucked her in. She was asleep almost immediately.

The next morning it was my turn to provide the breakfast and when I could hear the clunk of the metal door in the basement, I knew my only customer of the day was on her way. And boy what a sight that was. Meri came in, her hair somewhat tussled, wearing the least opaque negligee this side of cellophane. It was, essentially, entirely transparent.

“Feeling pretty this morning?” I asked her jokingly.

“I always feel pretty, and don’t try to pretend you don’t like the view,” she returned the favor.

“So what’s with the show then?”

“I only have this and a much thicker negligee. The way the heating works around here, the other one would have been way too warm.”

“Thank you, heating,” I proclaimed theatrically, which got me a swat on the arm and a kiss to the cheek.

“You’ve been quite a busy boy,” Meri said. “I wonder how the place will look when I come back tonight.”

“Not much different,” I explained. “The plumbers will drop by for the installation of the washing machine and the dishwasher. They only managed your half yesterday.”

“I didn’t see a washing machine on our side?”

“We’ll always be at most four people, so we decided that our half of the basement will be the washing room and that one washing machine is enough. Your half will become a sauna and a gym. All on a small scale of course.”

“Isn’t that a bit too much effort for a few months? I thought you and Lydia want to go back to the states in summer?”

“We do, but we’re working on convincing Regina and Jenny to take our place. Regina has to decide where to study. Emden college offers teacher courses and with auntie Bea there would be day care for Jenny. She still has nearly two years to go until she enters school.”

“Did you consider getting a job with John’s company?” Meri asked and smiled from across the kitchen table. “You definitely have talent for managing things.”

“Just keeping myself occupied, I guess. It’s been a while since I had anything useful to do like drawing comics for the Mariner or painting a gorgeous Lady’s boobs.”

“That gives me an idea,” Meri said. “I might have a job coming your way.”

“I’m listening,” I said and demonstratively stared at her boobs, which by now I had an even clearer view of, because the negligee’s tie had ‘accidentally’ opened. It wasn’t like they had been obscured by much before.

“The girls from the team peppered me with questions yesterday, about my photo-shoots for the Playboy and FHM. Some have even seen the body paintings. I think some if not all of them are curious.”

“I wonder how such a topic came up,” I ribbed her. “Have you, by any chance, forgotten your audience when changing into your cycling gear for the first time?”

Meri shrugged. “We were all girls in that locker room, except for the coach.”

“You do realize that these babies can give most girls an inferiority complex?” I pointed out, with my finger, straight at her large boobs.

“That would explain the gasps,” Meri said and we both chuckled.

“So where do I figure in all of that. Do you want me to body paint an entire cycling team? That would take ages.”