Riding Blue Steel
by Nancy Pirri
“Come on, Wendy, lighten up. I didn’t ask you to wash bikes bare-assed naked, did I?”
Wendy Morrison rolled her eyes at Anita Consuelo, her paralegal assistant, who also happened to be her best friend. “Damn near,” she muttered. “Me in a bikini? I’m thirty years old. Look at this body. Look at the hips, the boobs, for God’s sake. Besides, it wouldn’t be good for my public defender image.”
Wendy had been battling the same extra twenty pounds for the last five years; pounds that left her with Mae West curves she’d rather do without. Call it job hazard, she mused, thinking of the hours she spent sitting on her butt working cases.
Anita stared at her. “Wish I had your boobs. As for the hips, they’re meant for having babies. You know that don’t you? You’re a lucky woman.”
Wendy had been thinking more and more about having a baby, even without a steady man or a husband, which she didn’t have. There was always the sperm bank at the university.
“Believe me, to those bikers you’ll look like a queen,” Anita said.
What a friend. Wendy knew she could always count on getting the truth from Anita. “A queen, hmm? How do you know that?”
“I’ve participated in the Bikini Bike Wash fundraiser for breast cancer research the past two years. And it’s for a good cause. Besides, look what it got me?”
Wendy knew exactly what Anita got; two years worth of relationships with men from all walks of life—mostly bad boy types—even some who’d spent time behind bars. Simply put, Anita loved bad boys. But, after being roughed up one too many times, Anita decided she should find herself a “bad boy” who also happened to be a good guy. Ironically, her current boyfriend, Bobby Mallory, wasn’t a bad boy—except in the bedroom, according to Anita. Being a cop might have something to do with it.
Thinking how Bobby would pick Anita up at work a few times a week and take her to lunch, hauling her into his arms as soon as he came into the office, and giving her a smacking kiss, along with a smack on the ass, too, Wendy was envious of their relationship. Shivers shot through her spine as she thought about his loving playfulness.
Although she’d been attracted to a few “bad boys” in her past, she couldn’t jeopardize her career as an attorney in the county public defender’s office by becoming involved with one. Still, she couldn’t deny there were moments when she wanted to let her hair down and live an utterly wicked life.
“I’ll do it, because it’s for a good cause, but no bikini. I’ll wear a respectable pair of shorts and a top. That’s as racy as I get.”
Anita shrugged. “Suit yourself, but you’ll be hearing complaints from a bunch of disappointed bikers.”
“Tough.” Wendy left the office and headed home.
Arriving at her condominium on River Road Boulevard, she took the elevator up to her fifth floor apartment. Inside, she tossed her purse down on the sofa. In her bedroom, decorated in cast off furnishings from her parents’ home, she changed into a cool, comfortable, turquoise chemise.
She stood in front of the mirror over her dresser, and pulled the pins from her twisted upswept hair. Running her fingers through the wavy, copper-colored tresses, she freed them so that they floated down over her shoulders and trailed to the middle of her back.
In the kitchen, she opened the fridge and poured a glass of Pinot Grigio, giddy at the prospect of relaxing on her deck after a long day in court. As she slid the deck door open, a warm breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders. She stepped outside onto her deck and closed the door behind her. She loved summer, every aspect of it from the deciduous trees in full bloom to the carpeting of vivid green grass to the flowery pots of plants on her deck. Settling her wine glass on top of the deck’s railing, she leaned against it and looked down at the river.
It was a warm afternoon, nearly ninety degrees, but the breeze from the river was heavenly. Though she had air-conditioning and the summer heat was unbearable for some people, Wendy didn’t mind and had yet to turn it on. After spending six long winter months in cold and snow, she enjoyed having the windows open, letting in the heat.
The river was low this year; the narrow band of water a mere trickle where it passed her condo. She smiled when she saw a family of geese climb up the steep river bank and waddle off into a woodsy park area. Then she heard a whistle.
Her condo was located on the very end of the building—a premier location affording her windows with a view in three directions. She scanned the other balconies before settling her gaze on a man on his deck three floors down and to her left. Waving, he stood at his railing, too, and smiled.
She waved back and saw his smile widen into a big grin. Her vulva quivered as she took in his long, molasses colored hair. He wore a pair of shorts, but no shirt, his naked, broad chest gleamed under the lowering sun. Even from this distance he looked decidedly decadent.
Wendy smiled at him until he lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes. She gasped. Running inside was her first inclination, but for some unfathomable reason she stayed riveted in place. Let him look, she decided in chagrin, lifting her chin and guessing he’d stop looking within seconds.
He didn’t, but he did pull the binoculars down from his eyes, his grin widening.