The Road.

The Road 13

The Road. Part 13

St Mungo’s, or St Munnies as the locals called it, started life as workhouse. The austere, worthy civic building that it had become never disguised what it had been. The Victorian solidity and functionality was coupled with the unforgiving intention not to encourage slacking with too much luxury for the sick poor of the town.

Throughout the building there were cartouche set in the stonework, they all carried uplifting quotes and instructions:

Man, mind thy self.

Take up thy bed and walk.

Physician, heal thy self.

Etcetera.

Piri liked the heavy brick and stone building, she liked to see the nun’s in their old-fashioned black habit and stark white wimples, as they fluttered along the corridors, demurely close to the walls. Maybe it was her illicit Catholic background. Maybe her mothers not quite secret desire, for her to take the veil, had seeped into her consciousness. At home there had been little possibility. Here, she found she could indulge her love of the formal strictness. She went to mass regularly, prayed and carried her rosary everywhere. At home, before she escaped, they had held mass in the homes of friends; the priest came silently and went silently. She could revel here, in her faith and its proscriptions.

The only fly in her spiritual ointment was Ricky Deeming.

Ricky unnerved her, made her feel things she did not want to feel. Her pulse quickened even at the very mention of his name. She hid when she knew he was around. The feeling of heat that he generated in her body scared her. He had the look and manner of a fallen angel.

Fallen at her feet, to tempt her? Test her resolve perhaps?

Whatever it was, when he stopped his bike at the bus stop that wet dreary afternoon, her heart sang and her breath almost choked her.

“Get on,” he said, pushing his spare helmet at her.

She did as she was told. Declining would have been out of the question, but as she squirmed uncomfortably on the hard narrow seat, every fibre of her burned. The skirt of her uniform and petticoat were tucked dangerously far up her thighs, allowing glimpses of her stocking tops and suspenders as she moved.

She was relieved that, as he was obviously watching the road ahead, Ricky would not see her so revealed.

She underestimated Ricky too often.

He glanced back to check she was on and was rewarded with the sight of pale, smooth thigh, a white suspender and black stocking top. He grinned to himself and gunned the machine.

You had to love a nurses uniform, all that starch, with the promise of softness underneath.

“Hold about me waist, tight mind. I don’t want to have to explain to me auntie how you fell off.”

She followed his instruction and held tight, then immediately loosened her grip when she realised quite how good it felt.

“I said tight, pet, and I meant it.”

She tried again. This time, she hung on as they moved out into traffic. When they stopped and started in the city centre, she found she could sit back from him, but once out on the open road it was a different story. She had to cling as he took corners, gripping the bike with her knees to stay in place. The rain stung her exposed and delicate skin like a thousand tiny pinpricks. But worst of all, was the contact with him and the bike. Just the thought of him made her blood race, now the vibration of the bike set up a tension between her thighs that had her breathless with need.

With her arms clasped at his waist, Ricky felt it, too. He, like all bikers, knew there was a set of revs that, if she was in the right position, could turn a reluctant chickie into a more than willing one. It was the standing joke about taking a girl for a ride.

He leant forward as he had to, the Manx was a racer, the handlebars were positioned low. This pushed his rear into the vee of her groin. He felt her squirm closer. Possibilities slid through his mind.

She was less complicated than Hari. No likelihood of Gently asking him to persuade her to testify against any one. One thing he was certain of was that he did not need another Billy in his life, and Hari had that potential. He only had auntie Pip’s censure to deal with. If he was careful about it, it wouldn’t be so difficult.

By the time they pulled to a halt outside the gates of the driveway, Piri was biting her lip and trying to hold her quivering core together. Uncomfortably, she slid from the bike and stood on the kerb, dazed from the ride. Her legs still trembling.

“The lid?” Ricky laughed and swung his long leg over the machine. He leant forward and pointed to her head. “The helmet?” He removed his own, putting it on the saddle.

“O, termeszetesen, yes,” With nervous fingers refusing to do her bidding, Piri fumbled with the buckle. She closed her eyes and wished she did not feel so… She always faltered in her English, dropped things, when he was near.

Long confident fingers slipped over hers and the strap fell free.

“There you are now, home, safe.” He lifted the helmet clear with one hand, the other dusted through her short tousled hair.

Piri’s mouth twitched in a faltering reply. “Koszonom…I...meaning…thank you”

“Nincs problema. It’s OK, hinny. What you need is a nice hot bath.” The free hand touched the damp hem of her uniform, pressed it against the tingling flesh of her thigh.

He thought about her in the big old fashioned bath.

Thought of the hot water heating the skin of her full breasts to a deep pink.

Thought of the soap sliding there.

Thought of his hand wielding that soap.

His body reacted accordingly. He winced, shaking his head, trying to free some good sense. The look he saw in her large, dark, soulful eyes told him that here there was something he had never had to deal with before. Inexperience, innocence.

“Go on inside. I think I need to go…”

He was unprepared for Piri’s upward move. She came up on tiptoes and kissed him. Softly and closed mouthed. He responded by gripping the back of her head and holding her while his tongue sought the warm surprised shelter of her mouth.

The rain continued to fall, but it was un-noticed.

Ricky sighed and resigned himself to the inevitable.