Chapter 6

The next morning I awoke spooned between two nubile young women, Melody had her firm breasts pressed against my back, the hard points of her nipples leaving an impression just below my shoulder blades, while her arm rested possessively over my waist. Monica had her tight little ass pressed against my front, with my morning erection nestled against her crack. My right arm was tucked under her shoulder and her warm right breast was in my palm, the nipple was hard, and she was moaning a bit as if still dreaming. I could tell by the flush slowly spreading up her neck that it had to be a good dream. And the way her ass kept grinding against my penis was having an effect on my state as well. Taking note of the pressure on my bladder, I slowly extricated myself from between my sleeping beauties and padded quietly to the head.

Having splashed a little water on my face, and taking a close look at that same face in the mirror, I eschewed returning to bed, and instead headed for the kitchen. Flicking the switch on the coffee maker, I quietly opened the French doors and stepped onto the cool morning sunlit deck to think. Sitting quietly in the backyard watching the sun rise above the early morning fog that shrouded the still and peaceful valley was still a treat for me after all this time. I had always loved my little house, but it was moments like this that made it almost heaven on earth.

“Well, Little Nate...”, I said softly, “Looks like another fine mess you’ve gotten us into this time.” And I chuckled a bit in spite of myself. “Not enough that you get pussy from what now, four, no five different women, all of whom are totally hot and all want you as badly as a dying man begs for life, but you also plan to go to that hospital and pick up Joy. And then what, hmmmm? You gonna bag her too?” I sat in silence for a moment, just thinking about the twists and turns in my life. Being a lonely bike nerd in high school and later in college hadn’t prepared me for this life. All those years on the pro tour had been spent in the company of more bike nerds and bike geeks, none of whom seemed to know shit about women!

“Shit dude! You really need to decide what you want in a woman, as if you haven’t found it already, and then be content, right? I mean, how many women can you keep truly happy?” Little Nate was a little short on answers ... Big Nate needed some air, even though he was siting in the open on his deck. I was starting to feel an edge of fight or flight panic ... my heart rate went up, and my palms got sweaty, and I simply had to get out of that house. So, I quietly pulled on one of my training kits and threw a banana in a jersey pocket and headed for the garage to grab my bike.

For as long as I could remember, the feel of the wind on my face had magically cleared out all the mental clutter, as I slowly became one with the road. At some point in my youth, I had discovered the joy of simply riding. It didn’t hurt all that much that it was also a way out of my childhood and early adult problems. When in doubt, ride! So, whenever I was faced with a problem in life, I would escape to the open road on my bike. Shit, I had made a very good living out of this activity, and it had allowed me to grow older without really growing up. I had always had a training ride, or a race, or a camp, or something to do with all of my available time. It also hadn’t hurt that most of my fellow cyclists had the same escape route: hit the road and let it all sort itself out without you.