When I stopped in at Starbucks on my lunch hour last week I had no idea what was going to happen.
I was dawdling-it was a slow day at the office. No one seemed to care when I announced I was taking off half an hour early to go work out. I went through my sets quickly so there was time for coffee when I finished-not lunch, as I was determined not to let my hard-won gains get covered up by belly fat.
My favorite Starbucks was cool and thankfully not too crowded. By now the baristas greeted me by name when I walked in and then asked, "Grande iced coffee?" I'd given up being annoyed by the forced familiarity.
My drink came up quickly. I took it to the bar by the front window of the store that looked out onto a small patio and the parking lot. I perched on one of the high stools and pulled out my smartphone. Between reading my e-mail, surfing Facebook (a guilty pleasure), and looking up things on the Web, I ended up happily killing time for quite a while.
Finally I took a break and looked around. Some guy in bicycling gear was fitting a plastic cap onto his drink at the cream and sugar stand nearby. He stepped out the door and the next moment was standing right in front of me-he had left his bike propped on the front wall of the store. I was perched at exactly the right height to get a good look at him, though the blinds across the window partly obscured his face.
Most men who wear skintight cycling outfits shouldn't. This guy was an exception. The stretchy fabric fit his lean, rangy body like a glove. His forearms were corded with muscle and vein. His biceps strained against the short sleeves of his jersey. His shorts were black and sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination. The folds of the fabric formed a snug pouch between his legs, revealing the outlines of an impressive package. His legs were just what a biker's ought to be, tanned and ripped. His face was partly hidden by reflector sunglasses, but I imagined keen, intelligent eyes to go with the even teeth and square, clean-shaven jaw.
He put his helmet down on one of the outdoor tables and stood sipping athis drink he had just purchased, giving me plenty of time to check him out. I figured I was safe since the window shades were hiding my face. In a few moments he would get on his bike and ride away, leaving me to face a long and boring afternoon. Better enjoy the view while it lasted, and it was quite a view. I felt myself getting hard and shifted on my barstool, trying to be inconspicuous about adjusting myself.
I was amazed when the biker outside did the same. I blinked, thinking I was seeing things. No, I wasn't. One sinewy hand was cupping the goods I'd been admiring, slowly squeezing and releasing.
I whipped my head up and found myself staring directly into his reflector shades. The blinds must not have been concealing me as much as I thought. A smile spread across his face as he continued to play with himself through his shorts.
He put down his plastic cup, now empty except for ice, and reached for his helmet. Quickly the biker snapped it on and mounted his bike. I sighed inwardly, figuring the show was over. It had been fun while it lasted.
I watched him glide into the parking lot and begin to ride away.
Except, he didn't ride away. He covered the parking lot in leisurely circles, dodging the occasional car, casting glances in my direction. After a few passes he stopped in front of me and put one foot down on the pavement, taking a hand off the handlebars and cupping the swelling mound between his legs once again.
Clearly I was being cruised. But what to do? In a flash I made up my mind.
Quickly I downed the rest of my coffee. I got up, pushed the door open and went out into the parking lot, straight toward the cyclist. He nodded and smiled.
"How are you doing?" His voice was deep and resonant.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
"Come here in your car?" Getting straight to the point. I nodded again.
"Yeah."
He leaned toward me and spoke in a low voice. "I know a place nearby. Want to follow me? Got time?"
The words came out of my mouth without thought. "No time like the present."
He laughed softly. "Cool. I'll wait for you at that exit over there."
I ran to my car. Moments later I was heading toward him. He saw me and turned right out of the parking lot, waiting by the curb until he saw me exit. Then he headed down the thoroughfare on the bike path, surprisingly fast. Obviously he was in good shape. I was driving near the speed limit to keep up with him.
After a while he turned left off into a more residential neighborhood. The road became hillier and he slowed his pace a bit, though his muscular legs continued to pump steadily. I followed him at a safe distance, enjoying the sight of his athletic body at work.
Ahead of us on the right was a break in the parade of houses with large front yards. I saw him turn into the open space. When I got there I realized it was a small park, not much more than a clearing surrounded by woods, a bit of wilderness that had not been swallowed up by development. A gravel strip by the road served as a small parking lot. I pulled into it and looked up. I caught sight of the biker in the distance. He had dismounted and was walking his cycle toward the woods. He turned to make sure I was still with him, then disappeared into the foliage.
