Now, this tale is set in the year when i purchased her, 1993, meaning that mobile phones weren't in common use for ordinary people. So the 'damsel in distress' here couldn't simply ring somebody in her awkward situation.
As the curve started to straighten out, I knew that I’d got it right. I didn’t know what gear I was in, but I DID know it was the right one. The tacho showed about nine thousand, nicely in the power band, as I screwed the throttle right open, the little RGV responded beautifully as the revs climbed and she shot forward. Up to eleven thousand, change up, up to eleven K again, another up shift meanwhile the speedometer needle went straight through the ‘ton’ mark. What a lovely little bike, went as well as it looked, and she was gorgeous!
I’d only had this bike for a couple of months, having purchased it at the beginning of spring, in early April. She was a Suzuki RGV 250, a two-stroke ‘V’ twin, developing roughly sixty horse-power and capable of just under one hundred and thirty miles-an-hour. Challenging to ride, it wasn’t like a big four-stroke with loads of torque and bottom end power, so you needed to ‘stir’ the gearbox, but get it right and boy, could she be exciting to ride or what?
And she had sung, my normal getting up at ‘stupid o’clock’ meaning an almost traffic free run. I was only a few miles from home after having ridden well over a hundred miles, a great ride. I’d steered her well as she had responded. Reaching a ton-ten, something in a lay-by on my side of the road caught my eye. I very briefly, I mean at THAT speed it was going to be just a quick glance, noticed a Classic two-stroke Yamaha. It was an RD350 Y.P.V.S. about ten years older than my little ‘Suzi’ and the female rider just standing next to it, looking like she was in distress. So, at the next roundabout I swung right around to return and pulled up next to her bike, which I could now see wasn’t in the best condition.
Having parked up and removed my helmet I approached the Lady rider, and just as her bike was roughly ten years older than mine, so she herself appeared to be about the same. I’d turned twenty-nine a few months ago, and she looked to be in her late thirties or early forties. Not that it mattered at all, I’d stopped to see if I could help her, not to ‘chat her up,’ but even so she looked absolutely stunning, a message that the classy and stylish black two-piece leathers that she wore only re-enforced.
“Can I help you, Ma’am? What seems to be the problem?” Although I already had a fairly good idea, the pool of fuel underneath her bike indicated a sticking float bowl within one of the two carburettors. Obviously, she’d had the good sense to turn the fuel tap off, but once the tap was re-opened, fuel would pour out, right in front of the rear tyre. Not good, or safe.
“It seems to be leaking petrol, and I was lucky not to come off. Thank you. Oh, and please, just call me Mel, no need for the formalities of ‘Ma’am,’ is there?”
“Sure Mel. But my guess it that one of your carb’s has its float bowl jammed open, there’s something foreign in there. I won’t be able to fix it here and now, without any real tools. But I live very near here, so I’ll either came back in my car with my toolkit, or I’ll see if one of my neighbours is about. He’s got a pick-up van, so we’ll take your bike back to my place. I used to have one of these myself, so I do know my way around it.”
“That’s very kind of you. Are you sure it’ll be no trouble?”
“Well, it’s Saturday morning so no work, and I’ve no plans for the day. It’ll be no trouble at all. See you in about thirty minutes, either way.”
The time it took me to get home, having fuelled up the RGV at the service station around the corner ready for next time, change out of my leathers, put the bike away in my home’s garage, and then rustle-up Charlie, who was happy to lend me his pick-up.
A relieved Mel helped me to load her Yamaha onto the flat bed of Charlie’s truck and tie her, sorry the bike that is, down securely and safely. She jumped in the passenger side of the driving compartment, and we set off on the short journey to my place. During the journey she informed me that she’d recently been through a rather messy divorce, and that her ex-husband had taken their main bike, a nearly new Honda CBR600, and most of the tools and spares they had. She’d barely managed to secure the Y.P.V.S. out of the settlement, him having refused to work on it for some time, and this basically explained its rather sorry state.
It didn’t take long, once I’d unloaded Mel’s machine and returned the pick-up to my neighbour, Mel having put some fuel in it as a gesture of thanks, for me to realise just how poor a condition this machine was in. Thankfully, as I said before I used to own one of these, and actually had a few spares that I’d never used or then cleared out, being a bit of a ‘magpie’ myself. And I’d need them now.
One of the fork seals had gone, yes, I had those. The brake calipers would need overhauling, blimey yes, I’ve got some brake seals too. And some stainless steel Goodridge brake hosing, those weren’t cheap at all, but back in the early nineties the internet was still in its very infancy, and there was no ‘eBay’ to sell this sort of stuff on. I also had a complete engine gasket set, very useful because the power valves were ‘gummed up’ and needed a good clean up. Meaning that the barrels would need to come off. All in all, a full day’s work!
“Look Mel, it’s going to take nearly all of today, to fix your bike here, so it’s safe and roadworthy. I’m happy to do it all for you, lucky I kept those Y.P.V.S. spares, but do you want me to run you home in my car? If I get it all done today, I’ll bring your bike back, and then perhaps you can then bring me back here?”
“Look this is all frightfully good and kind of you. How much will I owe you?”
“Well, all of the parts are here, I bought them and sold the bike they’re made for, without using them. They’re worth nothing to me now, so you might as well have them. I can’t sell them after all.”
“What about your time and labour though?”
“A beautiful smile is all I want in payment for that!” And the sexy Mel duly obliged.
As agreed then, I ran her home, which was useful for it told me just where she lived. Once back I set to my tasks. And I was right, it took virtually all day to service her front forks, front brakes and restore the engine power valve system to full working order. Not to mention cleaning out the blockage within the left-hand carb. Then I washed and polished it, although not employing the same degree of meticulousness as I did while also giving the RGV her own post-ride clean, if somewhat delayed. By the time I’d done all of this it was nearly six o’clock in the evening. I’d ring Mel, take her bike back to her, and by the time she’d run me back, it’d be time for the normal Saturday night down the pub. Good job they serve food, I could eat something there.
However, that wasn’t quite the way the evening passed after all. For when I did contact Mel to inform her that I’d finished, she offered to cook a special dinner for me, to thank me. And also offered to put me up for the night as to use her words, ‘the wine would flow.’ I accepted, and why not? No, I had absolutely no expectation on any sexual front, but I thought it would be a pleasant change to spend the evening in the company of a Lady, whom I already knew I liked. Taking nothing for granted, I just assumed I’d be spending the night in either Mel’s spare bed, or on her sofa. Little did I know, although it would be a chance remark in response to a question of hers that would set the tone for that night!
As I rode Mel’s bike back to her own home it was clear that my efforts during this day had been totally successful. She now ‘purred’ along, the engine singing sweetly. Oh, and yes, she bloody stopped properly now! With the forks no longer bottoming out. A good day’s work. Once I arrived at her place, a ground floor flat, I put the bike away in the shed that she had the use of, and entered, as the delicious smell of the home-made curry Mel was preparing for us both, hit my nasal receptacles. “God, that smells good enough to eat!”
“It’ll be ready soon, but why don’t you grab a shower in the meantime?” A good idea, although I’d washed well after my labours of the day, and slung on some fresh clothes, a nice shower would really refresh me. So, I gladly accepted her offer, and by the time I’d finished, dinner was ready.
Mel invited me to sit at her table, poured us both a generous glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc, and then dished up her Prawn Chilli Masala, together with mushroom rice. Which tasted even better than it had smelt, and that had been truly marvellous. I actually began to wonder if Mel was as skilled in the bedroom as she clearly was in the kitchen, because it was becoming clearer by the minute, THAT, was just where she wanted us both to end up! Although, as I said earlier, I was taking nothing for granted, I’d already decided that if she, and only she, made any move in that direction, I would not refuse. Older than me Mel might well have been, but as I also implied earlier, she had still ‘got it,’ be in no doubt about that, this was a woman who was utterly sexy and totally gorgeous! With very sheer nylon covering her luscious legs, and I knew enough about her by now to know, they would not be in the form of tights!
Mel seemed to be a little nervous though, as if she also didn’t want to be the one who moved first. Thing is I didn’t want to ‘push’ anything, we were in her home not mine. But as I implied earlier, it was a chance question of hers, and my answer to it, that kicked things off.
For, once we’d both been to the toilet, she asked if I had any sexual fantasies, and my reply was completely truthful and honest. You see it had been a dream of mine to find myself subject to a degree of female domination. Yes, I had wished to find myself tied to a bed by a female captor, and subject to her desires, without being able to prevent that, or stop her in any way.
Although neither of us were drunk, we had consumed more than one glass of wine, so my inhibitions were somewhat absent. “You know, Mel, there is one thing I’ve often dreamed about. I find myself in the grip of a sexy woman, who ties me securely to her bed, and then ravishes me, without me being able to resist her in any way!”
Mel smiled at me, a deliciously dirty smile. “Fancy a bit of femdom, do you?” And then her whole facial expression changed, suddenly her face now seemed full of authority and purpose, as she rose and loudly ordered, “ON YOUR FEET! NOW!”