Author's Note: I originally posted the five chapters of this story in 2013, under the title "The Kinetic Sorceress." Kind encouragement from Literotica readers convinced me to publish these chapters as an e-book. My experience in online publishing was unpleasant, so I have decided to repost the stories here. I hope you enjoy them.
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As with most extraordinary and bizarre things in life, my time with Mia started out unremarkably. I was riding my bike along a windy stretch of highway 143. It was a clear and sunny day, unusually warm for early Spring, so I packed extra water in my backpack. My cell phone and wallet were safely tucked in my fanny pack. I had pedaled for about an hour, covering about 20 miles and reached a decision point: turn around now (20 miles to home), or take a turnoff on to the state road and make the ride a long loop (40+ miles more riding). I decided not to waste a beautiful day and chose the loop ride. A brief stop for some water and a protein bar and I was back in my saddle and pedaling away.
Three miles into the state road leg of my ride, I was passed by a non-descript late model hatchback. It was the only car I'd seen for 20 minutes and I got a nice polite wave from the driver, a woman who looked in her late 20's. The cloudless day made me very happy to hit the hills and the shade that went along with them. As I neared the top of a steep hill, another car buzzed past me, too close for my liking, music blaring. Three frat boys in daddy's Range Rover. Great. I crested the hill and began to coast down. After a mile of twisting descent, I hit a long straightaway and could see the Range Rover pulled off to the side.
As I got closer, I noticed that the hatchback was stopped directly in front of the SUV, with a spare tire, tire iron and jack strewn on the ground beside it. The three frat boys were leaning against the front of their car, watching, laughing and editorializing on the woman's attempt to change her tire, but not lifting a finger to assist. The engine was running and the music was still blaring. Assholes.
I pulled up next to the hatchback and saw a young woman struggling to fit a wheel lock key onto one of the lug nuts of her obviously flat tire. She was dressed in loose fitting jeans and t-shirt with a waist-length denim jacket over it. Her hair was stuffed into a baseball cap that she had turned around to keep from banging the bill against the quarter panel as she wrestled with the wheel lock. She had pretty features and I imagined would have a nice smile, based on how pleasant she looked grimacing with frustration at her current situation. She wore little makeup but a hint of a sweet floral scent hung around her.
Without acknowledging the three stooges, I asked the woman if she needed help changing the tire. Before she could answer, the shortest of the three boys said to me, "Hey bike-guy, we've got this covered. Move along."
I ignored him and said to the woman, "I'm happy to help. Plus, I'm already sweating so it's not like I might mess up an outfit or anything," at which I looked back and gave the three preppy-looking boys a disdainful look. This elicited a smile from the woman. I was right -- nice smile.
"Are you deaf, dude? I said we have this covered. We're all the help she's going to need for a while." Her smile dissolved at this comment while the frat boys were elbowing each other and laughing like hyenas.
I really did not want to mix it up with three, possibly drunk or stoned, guys on a road in the middle of nowhere. But I also did not want to leave this woman alone with them. All I had wanted was to enjoy a nice long bike ride, and here I was in a no-win situation.
Sometimes, however, fate -- or something -- intervenes. A slow steady hissing started under the hood of the Range Rover. A coolant hose was leaking. These three geniuses were soon to be stranded with an overheated $90,000 SUV, and their only ride would be with the lady in the hatchback.
"That's a hose on your cooling system," I told them. "Check the temp gauge inside." One of the boys, the driver, stuck his head inside, and watched as the needle climbed to a few degrees south of the big "H" on the temp gauge. A muffled "shit" came from the SUV's cabin.
"You haven't overheated yet, so you still have a shot at getting to a service station before you break down. Otherwise, you'll be waiting here for roadside service and riding on a flat bed with your Range Rover." That was a complete lie -- they were minutes away from overheating. I was just hoping they'd be dumb enough to move the car.
I pointed back up the road we'd all just come by. "If you take the road back and turn right onto 143 you'll hit a service station about a quarter mile from the intersection." I waited a moment and then, pointing at the woman and the hatchback, added, "It's OK dudes, I have this covered." Weighing the two options of staying put, possible roughing me up and having their car overheat vs. beating a hasty retreat and hoping to limp their car to a gas station, the three clowns glared at the woman, grumbled a few brilliant retorts like "hope you're stuck all day," "stupid bitch," "not worth the time," and piled back in the car. As they pulled away, stereo still blasting, I could hear the driver chanting "shit, shit, shit, shit...".
I heard a female voice behind me: "There's no way they're going to make it to that gas station."
"Gas station?" I replied, "What gas station?"
"So you sent those three nice boys off to get stranded on highway 143?" she asked.
"Of course not," I replied. "They'll never make it to 143. They'll probably get stuck in the hills. Pity -- cell service is very spotty there."
She stared at me for a moment. "I feel just awful about that," I added. She stared a while longer. And then we both broke out laughing.
"May I help you with that?" I offered. "Wheel locks are annoying. Waste of money if you ask me."
"They came with the car," she replied.