Speedy Delivery

A stolen bike leads to an amazing new friendship.

* * *

Author's Note

Unlike many of the other tales I have written, this one has a very slow build with a lot of sexual tension before getting to the good bits. Also, one of the characters is butch. So, if you came here expecting some hot girl-on-girl spanking action, save yourself the frustration and go read a Mistress and Charlotte story instead. But if you're up for a little unlikely romance, brought about by a twist of fate, then by all means go ahead and continue reading. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1

"Courier service, ma'am. Got a letter for ya. Sign here, please. -- Um, hold on, I know I've got a pen here somewhere," I said a bit flustered. This wasn't my first day on the job, I had been working as a bicycle courier pretty much since I dropped out of community college, so it wasn't as if I didn't know how things worked. The reason my tongue was so tied up at the moment was entirely due to the drop-dead gorgeous Latina standing in the doorway. "Uh, here ya go, ma'am," I said, finally fishing a pen out of my pocket.

I watched as she signed. "Ah, a lefty," I thought. No particular reason, you just start to notice shit like that when you've been doing this job as long as I have. What was it, going on two years now? Something like that.

"Uggh!" my client was groaning in frustration.

"Anything wrong, ma'am?"

"No. It's the message, not the messenger. Hold on a sec, let me get my purse. I'd like to give you a tip before you go."

"Thanks, lady," I said slipping back into my comfortable speech pattern for a minute. Two years on the job and I still had trouble remembering that the customer is always "sir" or "ma'am." I guess you can take the girl out of the 'hood but you can't take the 'hood out of the girl.

"Thank you, ma'am. Want some change for this? I think I got a couple of fives somewhere."

"No, you keep it."

"Thanks again!" I said and turned to go. "Shit!"

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"My bike! Somebody nabbed my bike. Shit! I can't believe I lost my bike! It was right there."

"Sorry," she said apologetically, "this neighborhood's just not what it used to be. Can I call you a cab or give you a ride somewhere?"

"You don't get it, lady. That bike ain't just my way home, it's my job. No bike means no deliveries, no deliveries means no job," I stated flatly.

"Why don't you step inside for a minute?"

"Thanks, lady, but I don't need your sympathy," I lashed out for no particular reason other than some asshole just stole my bike.

"That's not what I'm offering. Come on."

It was against my better judgment, walking into a stranger's house. My mom didn't teach me much, but she did manage to get that message through to me. But, for whatever reason, I didn't think this woman was a serial killer or a wicked old witch who wanted to boil me and eat me.

Though as I followed her over the threshold, I thought about how I probably wouldn't complain too much if she did want to make a meal out of me. She was just as easy on the eyes from the rear as she was from the front.

"Be careful on the stairs, the bottom one's a little loose," she said as she led me down to the basement and flipped on the light. "What do you think? Will this get you by in a pinch?"

I had to pick my jaw up off the floor as I stared at the gorgeous machine in front of me. It looked sleek, light, and expensive as hell! I mean, carbon-fiber everything -- frame, fork, wheels -- damn! And the metal parts all had that nice, warm glow of titanium. To top it off, it looked almost brand new, like it had hardly been ridden at all. Wow!

"Thanks, but I can't take this," I said. "It's probably worth more than I make in a year."

"Really? I always thought a bike was a bike."

"No ma'am, this is a really, really nice bike. Like, seriously nice. I'm sorry, but I can't take it."

"Consider it a loan then. Is that OK? -- Sorry, I didn't get your name."

"Annie, ma'am," I said. Now I was remembering the ma'am.

"Annie, I'm Miranda," she said extending her hand. She had a nice, firm grip for someone who looked like she led a rather pampered life. "You can bring the bike back after you collect the insurance money on yours."

"Um, yeah," I said, "about that. I got no insurance."

"Well, then keep the bike as long as you need it. I never ride it anyway. It was a present from my ex. -- The one who sent the letter. "

I was not making the connection, and obviously it showed on my face, because she continued with more detail.

"The envelope you delivered, Annie. It was the divorce settlement papers from my ex-husband's attorney. That's why I reacted the way I did earlier."

"Oh," I said somewhat glumly. Not that I stood any real chance ever getting to know a woman like Miranda, given that we were from opposite sides of the tracks and all, but any glimmer of hope I might have had just disappeared when she said ex-husband. Obviously this woman was straight as an arrow. What would she see in a little butch like me? Let me save you the trouble of thinking that through. Zero, nada, zilch!

Tower, this is Annie, over. Clear the runway, I'm shot up pretty bad and coming in for a crash landing, over.

"Thanks for the bike, Miranda" I said as I turned to go, "I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise."

"Don't worry about it, Annie. You take care of yourself," she said and waved as I rode off.

Chapter 2

When I got home, I threw the bike over my shoulder and marched up the four flights of stairs to our apartment. This thing was light as a feather, and it rode like a dream, seriously nice! I still couldn't believe Miranda had just given it to me like it was no big deal. Rich folks are funny like that I guess.

I had just opened the fire door onto our hallway and already I could hear my mom and her new boyfriend screaming at each other. Well, at least he didn't hit her like the last guy she shacked up with, so there was that. I slipped in as quietly as I could, closed the door to my bedroom and put on my headphones to drown out the shouting.

As usual, my little brother was nowhere to be seen. He was probably out running with his gang-banger friends. My brother might be a poor judge of character, but I'll give him this, he never brought any of that gang shit home with him and he never gave me any grief about being gay. That was pretty much where the list ended though. I always assumed he'd wind up dead or in prison before he hit twenty-one.

I leaned back onto my bed. I thought I might venture into the kitchen after things calmed down between Mom and her new man, but it sounded like they were just getting started. I decided to play it safe for now and leaned over to pull a Snicker's bar out of my sock drawer. I was rocking out to Michael Jackson and munching on junk food as my thoughts drifted back to Miranda and the bicycle. I had to find a way to pay her back, I had no desire to become this woman's charity case.

I started doing the math in my head. Given that it was probably an eight-thousand dollar bike, in all likelihood I could probably pay her back in -- let's see -- sometime in the next millennium. Shit! This was not going to work out.

OK, plan B. Start saving for a replacement bike. Once I have it, give this one back to Miranda. Sure, maybe by the end of the century.

OK, plan C. Get a used bike and fix it up. That was probably more realistic.

Crash!

Something just shattered. It must have been big if I could hear it over the music. My guess was a lamp, we didn't have any vases. The shouting was increasing too.

OK, plan D. Get the hell out of here before I go insane.

I turned up the volume some more to block out the sounds of the shitty world that I lived in.

Chapter 3

I was up early the next morning. I didn't sleep well at all. That was obvious from the dark circles under my eyes as I stared in the mirror and brushed my teeth. The only nice thing about getting up at this hour was that the apartment was at its quietest. Nobody else around here had a fucking job, so they all got to sleep until noon. Not that I was bitter.

"Well, at least there was hot water this early in the morning," I thought as I stepped into the shower. "I bet Miranda's place never runs out of hot water. Miranda. Why couldn't I get that woman off of my mind? Probably because her bike is parked in your bedroom, dummy!"

I quit arguing with myself and started washing my hair. I had to get going before the best morning deliveries were all handed out.

I got a lot of complements on the new bike from the rest of the gang at work. "Sweet ride, Annie," I heard, and, "who'd you have to kill to get that?"

"It's a loaner," I said, and then added, "My brother found it for me, I think it might be hot." Most everyone here was aware of the company my brother kept, so they had no problem accepting that explanation. After that, there were very few comments about my bike -- Miranda's bike.

"Annie, so nice of you to show up today," the dispatcher cracked. I smiled and flipped him the bird. I knew he was just trying to yank my chain. He'd been here since way before I started, probably when Moses was a kid, so I'm sure he needed any diversion just to stay sane. He really wasn't a bad guy, and he usually tried to save me some of the better deliveries -- the ones from regular customers who were known to be good tippers.

Some of the restaurants and groceries gave out free food instead of cash tips, which was also fine by me. On a good day I could get a free lunch and a little sack of something to take home for my dinner. Today was definitely shaping up to be a good day. My first delivery was for a bakery, so score one for free breakfast!

At the end of the afternoon I had racked up a trifecta! -- breakfast from the bakery, lunch from the pizzeria, and dinner from the deli. They made some huge-ass sandwiches there, so I could probably eat this baby for two days! "Or ..." I thought. "Nah, she wouldn't. Oh what the hell?"

I stood in front of her door, not knowing what I was going to say. "Um, hi. Thanks for the bike, and here's half a sandwich." Fuck it! This is not going to work. I was just turning to go when I heard the door open, and there was Miranda, looking as lovely as ever in her form-fitting cotton warm-up gear. She had the zipper of her hoodie open quite a bit and I found my eyes drawn to the swell of her breasts pushing up out of her tank top.

"Annie!" she said with a smile. "So nice to see you again."

"Um, hi," I said with my mouth probably still hanging open. Real smooth.

"Is everything OK with the bike?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, the bike is great! I swear I can go twice as fast. So with double my normal deliveries I ought to be able to pay you back in half the time."

Miranda smiled. God, she had a gorgeous smile! Her whole face lit up, her big brown eyes sparkled, and the curve of those lips. Oh, I could get lost in those lips.

"... come in?"

"What's that?" I asked, missing most of what she just said. God, I had it bad for this woman. What was I thinking, I hardly knew anything about her, except that I knew she was out of my league and she was straight.

"I said, would you like to come in?"

"In? Your house?"

"Yes, Annie, in my house."

Tower, this is Annie, over. My navigation has gone haywire. Flying into unknown territory, over.

"Um, sure. I'm gonna bring the bike in too if that's OK. Don't want to leave it unguarded after what happened to the last one."

"Good idea," she said.

"Oh, um, I got an extra-large hero in here," I said holding up the sack, "if, you know -- if you wanted to -- if you want to split it. If you haven't eaten yet, that is. Have you eaten?"

Miranda smiled a broad, beautiful smile. I got lost in those big brown eyes and luscious red lips again. Not that I was doing all that well before, but now I seemed to have completely lost the power of speech.

"Annie, are you OK?" she asked placing her hand gently on my arm. Oh my god! She touched me! I am never, ever washing that arm again!

"I think you should have a seat, Annie, you look a little pale." She took me by the hand and led me over to her kitchen table. My feet never touched the ground. Oh, Miranda! Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?

I snapped out of my daze as she set a glass of ice water in front of me. "I've got Coke too, and beer. Are you old enough for beer?"

"Thank you, ma'am," I said, recovering, "and yes, I am old enough for beer, but water will be just fine."

"Annie, please call me Miranda. I think we've moved past the business stage of our relationship."

Relationship? Did we have a relationship? Really? What the hell was it? I'd love to know.

"So, what stage are we at?" I asked, curiously.

"I'd like to say that we're friends. Isn't this what friends do? Loan each other bikes, bring each other dinner?"

"Um, yeah, I guess. Friends then. Thanks, Miranda." I smiled. This was actually kind of pleasant. The lust thing could be distracting at times, but friendship was nice. It sure beat the hell out of what I had going at home. So did the dinner. This was a regular feast compared to last night's Snicker's bar.

Miranda actually kept things besides beer in her refrigerator, things like fresh fruits and vegetables. So in the end, half a hero ended up being rounded out with a side salad, and fresh mango slices. I've never had mango before, and I'm a little sad about that, because it's really good! Then there was the weird-ass veggie Miranda said was a jicama. "You squeeze lime over it," she was explaining, "and then sprinkle on some chili powder. What do you think?"

"Tastes like a raw potato," I said.

"Oh, Annie, you just need more lime and chili powder. Here." Miranda prepared another slice and then put it in my mouth. "How was that?"

"Amazing," I sighed. She probably thought I meant the jicama. It still tasted like raw potato, but having Miranda's fingers that close to my mouth was delectable to say the least. I wanted to wrap my tongue around each and every one of those long, slender fingers. Lime or no lime, I wasn't picky.

"I should probably get going," I said, "I have to get up pretty early in the morning." What I really wanted to say was that if I didn't leave soon I would probably end up doing something I would regret. Friendship is good. Don't want to ruin friendship.

"Goodbye, Annie. Be careful going home."

"Goodbye, Miranda. Thanks for everything."

*

I returned home to the normal routine. Mom and what-his-name shouting at each other, my little brother AWOL, and -- oh, what's this? -- an eviction notice. Fucking great! I put on my headphones and cranked up the volume. My world was shit.

Chapter 4

I woke up exhausted. Mom and her boyfriend were on the up again, so last night instead of screams of "I hate you, you fucking bitch," I had to drown out screams of, "Yes! Oh, god, yes!" all night long. I'm not sure which is worse.

As usual, I was the only one up at this hour. I peered at my pasty image in the mirror as I brushed my teeth. My dark circles were looking more pronounced and now I was starting to get bags under my eyes. I thought that only happened to old people. I also saw that I needed a haircut. God, I just wanted to go back to bed.

I decided to have a shower instead. I didn't feel any better about life, but at least I was awake -- and clean.

Before leaving, I packed all my meager belongings into an old rucksack and took it with me. The eviction notice was still weighing on my mind, so I figured it was better to have my stuff in a bag at work than in a dumpster in the alley. I had little doubt that the locks would be changed by the time I got home. It's not like anybody else in the apartment was going to cough up the fucking rent.

In spite of the time I spent packing, I still managed to get into work early enough to get one of the better deliveries that morning. It was for a real estate brokerage and a good tipper. Much better than the banks, who almost never tip. I mean, you've got a whole vault full of money and you can't slip a fiver to the courier?

It was

all downhill from there

though. I did manage to get a free lunch from the Chinese take-out place, but it's Chinese take-out, so I was hungry again in like half an hour. No dinner, but I got some nice pastries from the grocery. "Won't be able to sell 'em tomorrow," the owner had said, "so take whatever you want." So my teeth might be falling out later in life, but at least I wouldn't go hungry tonight.

I decided to go see Miranda. I wanted to share my pastry score with her, and realistically I had nowhere else to go. I knocked on her door with the grocery sack clutched in hand. "Annie!" she said, her face lighting up, "what delectable treat have you brought this evening?"

"Hi, Miranda," I said smiling. Probably my first genuine smile of the day, I thought sadly. "No sandwiches today, but I've got about half a dozen pastries here. Apple strudel, cinnamon rolls, some of those French things that nobody can pronounce."

"Croissants?" she said.

"Yeah, that's it. Any of that sound good?"

"Actually, it all sounds like an extra hour at the gym, but what the heck?"

I must have given her a confused look, because she continued, "You probably don't have that problem Annie, you're young and you're on your bike all day, which obviously keeps you in great shape." I swear I saw her eyes wander over to my butt when she mentioned that I was in great shape. "When you get to be my age, Annie, it's not so easy anymore."

I couldn't believe she was saying this. I mean, hasn't she looked in the mirror lately? I decided to say something. That's what friends do, right? They try to help each other feel better?

"Miranda, there's nothing wrong with your figure. You look amazing."

"Thank you Annie! My ex always complained that my butt was getting too big."

"He obviously needs glasses."

Miranda smiled. Her whole face was lighting up again. "Oh Annie, I could just kiss you!"

"Yes please!" I was screaming inside my mind. "Right here on the lips would be just great."

"So, what to do about dinner?" she was musing. "I've got salad and there's probably still some soup in the freezer. I think that would go well with the croissants."

Soup in the freezer? Doesn't soup come in a can? Maybe the fancy soup is in the frozen aisle and I just missed it. "What can I do to help?" I asked.

"Well, there's plates in that cabinet over there and silverware in that drawer. What are you drinking tonight?"

"Water?" I said tentatively, not remembering what the other choices were.

"Do you like wine? I've got some, but I don't usually like to open a whole bottle for just myself."

"Uh, I don't really know. I'll try it."

"OK," she said. I watched in awe as she reached up to fetch the wine glasses from the top shelf. Her ex really did need to have his eyes checked! I mean, he probably wasn't safe to drive if he couldn't see what I was looking at right now. Miranda was amazing.

"The soup will take a few minutes to warm through," she said, "why don't we start with some wine out on the patio."

"Sure," I said and followed her through the French doors and into the outside. It wasn't a big backyard, but at least it had grass and flowers in it. Sure beats the asphalt and weeds we have out back of our place -- former place, I corrected myself.

Miranda poured two glasses and handed one to me. "To new friendships," she announced, holding her glass in the air.

"To new friendships," I replied.

"Be right back," Miranda said, excusing herself. She returned with a tray full of soup and salad.

"You should have let me help you with that," I said jumping up from my seat.