Counting Minutes | Gay MxM |

2. Plan in Motion

The opera tickets were easy to buy, but I needed to steal quite a few wallets before I had enough money for them. I wanted to buy four tickets to the hottest concert the city offered, and lucky for me, there was plenty to choose from. I bought the tickets for a new show to make sure the family hadn't seen it already. I once made the mistake of being too cheap and got tickets for a show that was running for the last time, and the couple I had as a target had already seen it. Twice. They never went to see it for the third time, so I had done all that work for nothing.

Once I had the tickets, I had to go buy myself an outfit for cycling. I felt ridiculous as I tried on a pair of red-and-yellow, skin-tight shorts with a matching vest. Those clothes were probably the worst possible outcome of nylon meeting spandex. I saw myself in a mirror and tried my hardest not to laugh. The suit left little room for imagination. Thankfully, I had nothing to be ashamed of, but I did look funny in it.

I returned to my borrowed bike and started wandering around until I found a public restroom. I stepped in and changed into my shiny new outfit. It was ridiculously tight, but it was comforting to know I only had to wear it once. I ignored the uncomfortable feeling around my private area – that was not so private anymore, thanks to all that spandex – and stuffed my own clothes in my bag before putting the helmet on.

"It's showtime," I muttered to myself and stepped out.

I still had a few hours left before Mrs. Filthyrich would leave her house, but I couldn't stay and loiter around much longer, or I'd start getting unwelcomed attention. I hopped on my bike and wished the rich lady hadn't changed her schedule. She always went to pick up her youngest daughter from school at 3:30 pm, and her doing the same today was crucial for my plan.

As time passed, I started getting nervous. I'd arrived at the gates of the rich neighborhood twenty minutes earlier, and I was sitting on the ground close by. It was a surprisingly warm day, so I had a good excuse for sitting under the trees if anyone asked what I was doing.

But when it was 3:40, the rich lady still hadn't passed through the gates. I couldn't sit there much longer. So far, I had drawn no attention to myself, but if I wanted to try again tomorrow, I had to leave. If people saw me waiting there every day, my plan would be ruined.

When I got up from the ground and was ready to hop on my bike, I finally saw the Mercedes of the rich lady coming down the hill. I sighed in relief, trying to keep my expression neutral. I had done this trick a few times before, and the success rate was around fifty-fifty. Not the worst odds, but what I was about to do could go really, really wrong if I didn't stay focused.

I waited until the car stopped by the gates to wait for them to open before I got on my bike. When the car started moving again, I cycled towards the intersection, wishing the woman wasn't a douchebag. Thankfully, she slowed down when she saw me. I lifted my hand to wave at her as a thank you for letting me cross the street.

And that moment right there was the most crucial part of my plan. I leaned intentionally too hard on the left when I waved at the rich lady, losing the control of my bike and falling hard on the ground. I scratched my elbow on my way down and hit my head hard on the pavement, but the helmet took most of the impact. The landing was a bit too hard for my taste, but at least I didn't get badly injured. When I'd done that trick for the first time, I didn't have a helmet on because I was too cool for it. That was the story of how I ended up spending a week in a hospital.

"Oh my God! Are you all right!" The rich lady hurried out of her car and ran to me.

"I'm OK, I'm OK..." I muttered and laughed a little. "I'm so clumsy sometimes."