Biker chic, Biker Chick
Jane always found it quite fun staying for a few days at her townhouse. It was easier getting to the shops, her hairdresser and naturally the clubs in the evening. It was also convenient if Andy wanted to drop by after work. It made things much more informal than when she was ensconced at Fullerton Hall. Fullerton Hall did tend to dominate the village. And a place in town made it much easier for friends to come round for a chat. Everything had a time and a place, as Jane well knew.
At the sound of the whirring engine turning into the quiet cul-de-sac, she peeked out through the kitchen’s Venetian blind while her Gaggia hissed and spluttered. “Andrew,” she called, “he’s here. Are you ready?”
“Almost, Auntie,” said Andy running downstairs with eager anticipation. “Just need your helmet. I can’t wait to see what bike he’s got. I do hope he’s in leathers. I’ve always wanted to see him in leather. Tight leather.”
“Calm down, honey. I’m sure he’ll be dressed for your ride together. Did everything fit?”
“Yes, Auntie. The pants are a bit tight but that’s only to be expected and no worse than my Freddy’s. I wish I’d had time to go home to get my gear. It’s so unusual Will doing something spontaneous like this.”
“I know dear,” said Jane wryly, “but you look lovely, though I say so myself.”
“Thank you, Auntie,” said Auntie, batting his eyelashes at his beloved Aunt. After long deliberation he’d decided to go for a pair of Ardell Double Wispies. He gave them another flutter, wanting to make sure they were secure before he put on his helmet.
“Oh honey, please stop, or I don’t think I’ll allow you out the door. You know how I like it when you flutter your eyelashes. It does tickle so.”
“I know Auntie. Don’t worry, I’ll still be wearing them this evening. What’s a Saturday evening for especially if we don’t have visitors?”
“Quite honey, though I think Chantelle may be popping round this afternoon.”
“Oh!” muttered Andy with a tinge of regret. He knew and accepted Jane still had her girlfriends and that he wasn’t her only love, but he was still a bit envious.
He opened the door and walked down the path as Will pulled up at the kerb outside and the engine puttered to a halt. Jane followed him to the doorway, drinking her coffee. Andy’s mouth opened wide. Will was astride a turquoise Vespa, very like the scooter he used to ride in France. “Hi, Andy,” Will said. “Wow! You look … well … amazing.” Andy thought Will looked as handsome as ever, but he couldn’t believe what his friend was wearing, nor what he was riding.
“Thanks, Will, but what is that? I thought Aunt Jane said you were coming round to give me a ride on your new bike.”
“I am. This is it. I wanted to show you. I’ve only just picked it up from the showroom.”
“A scooter!”
“Yes, a scooter. Isn’t it great? I know you said you used to ride one of these and how good it was for getting around town, so I thought I’d get one.”
“I know, but a scooter. I thought you were getting a proper bike.”
“This is a proper bike,” said Will, sounding hurt.
“Sorry, yes, it is but I was expecting something a bit more like a motorbike than a scooter.”
“But I’d need a licence for that. I’ve only got a provisional licence at the moment. I’ve done the training: I’ve had CBT.”
Jane let out a little giggle causing both boys to turn and stare. “Oh, nothing,” she said with a smile. “I’m so glad you’ve had CBT.” She’d give him CBT for all the angst and heartache he unknowingly kept putting her lovely young sissy through. While the two continued talking, she started to fumble with her phone.
“But you’re not dressed for it Will.”
“And I suppose you are? What are you wearing?”
“Like I said, I thought we were going biking. Proper biking. All my gear’s at Fullerton Hall with my Beemer so Aunt Jane has lent me hers. Or as close as she can manage.”
“I get the jacket and the helmet, but the pants?”
“Auntie said her Paige Hoxton’s and Cindy’s were too good for biking, but that I could borrow a pair of her Joseph Skinny’s. Don’t you like the look?”
“They look … well, er … fabulous on you. But aren’t they a little, er, snug?”
“They’re just right for a boy like me,” Andy said modestly.
“And the boots?”
“Auntie didn’t have her biker boots here. Like me, all her real gear’s back at the Hall. So she lent me a pair of her Kate Bottas. They’re 120s not 85s: she had them made specially.”
“But the heels..!”
“Yes, aren’t they wonderful. They make the ankle turn much more shapely than the 85s.” Aunt Jane watched and felt an inner glow that wasn’t just from her last gulp of warm coffee: her boy was turning out so well. Quite the little lady: so stylish, so knowledgeable. “The Louboutin designers in Paris say that they’re going to consult Auntie in future.”
“Can you walk in them?” asked a perplexed Will.
“Of course, silly. It’s not like they’re six or seven inch heels. These aren’t even five so they’re perfectly manageable.”
“Oh, er, right,” said Will giving him a somewhat quizzical eye. “And Andy, are you wearing make-up? It looks like you’ve got lipstick on.”
“That was just Auntie having fun,” replied Andy evasively. “She said that if I was going out dressed in her clothes like a biker chick, I might as well look like one,” quietly ignoring the last ninety minutes when he’d sat in front of a mirror meticulously preparing. “Does it suit me?”
“What? What a question! You’re Andy. My friend Andy.”
“But does it suit me? Auntie says she likes this look.”
“Andy, you look stunning. I’d hardly recognise you. Your face looks amazing and you look incredible in that outfit.”
“He does look chic, doesn’t he Will?” cut in Jane. “A real biker chick for you to have riding on your saddle.”
“Yes, Lady Jane. He does look, how can I say, ‘pretty’. As pretty as any girl.”
“You should say it Will. He looks very pretty.”
“Thank you, Will,” said Andy, not knowing where to look. “Anyway,” he continued quickly changing the subject, “what about what you’re wearing? You can’t wear that. It might be the first warm day of the year, but it’s hardly like summer in France or Italy. It’ll be cold when you ride. And flip-flops are hardly practical. Not with the kick-stand”
“I’ll be OK.”
“Well next weekend, I’m taking you to my bike shop to get you kitted out. It’s not safe riding in the UK like that.”
“If you say so.”
“Andrew,” interjected his Aunt again, “you can’t do next Saturday. You’re committed to Day Care until the end of term. You’re only free today because it’s half-term.”
“Day Care? Is that why you’ve not been around the last few Saturdays.”
“Yes, Will.”
“Why do you need to go to Day Care?”
“Oh, just something Auntie booked me into,” said Andy. “Nothing you need worry about,” he added hastily, glad his foundation and powder helped him suppress a blush
“So where are we going? I can’t see us racing along country lanes on your Vespa.”
“I was thinking about going down to the front and maybe having a stroll near the pier. Then some fish and chips followed by a lolly.”
“Oh!” Andy wrinkled his nose slightly. “That would be … nice. I think I’d prefer just an ice-cream.” He really didn’t want to test the tightness of his Auntie’s Skinny’s.
“Yes, Andrew likes a sixty-nine,” chipped in Jane with a twinkle in her eye.
“Really, Auntie, it’s a Ninety-nine,” corrected Andy. I like a Ninety-nine.”
“Well, you certainly go down on that flake really well,” said Jane. “You should see him lick and suck it, Will.”
“I’m sure I will,” said Will, his eyes opening wide in wonder. What was it between Andy and his Aunt?
“Honey, if you’re going to be sucking on one of those, I’ll fetch your lippie. Which one was it, darling? Your Charlotte Tilbury Miss Kensington, or the Dior Rouge Osée Satin?”
“The Miss Kensington, Auntie. And please can you bring my compact?” requested Andy. “I may need to touch up my powder and need a mirror.”
Will looked ever more baffled by this interplay. It seemed Andy was more than a little familiar with make-up especially if he had his own compact. As Aunt Jane went indoors, he asked, “Do you wear make-up often when you’re with your Aunt?”
“All the time, honey, I mean, Will” said Andy initially forgetting himself and then getting all embarrassed. “Let’s go.” Will grabbed the handlebars and swung himself astride the scooter and Andy prepared to mount the pillion. He was relieved when his Aunt swiftly reappeared and came down the path bearing a gold lipstick and a discrete black compact.
“Here you are darling,” said Jane, handling them to him. “Slip them in your pocket. And boys, I think Andy needs to drive.”
“What?” said Will.
“You’ve only got a provisional licence,” advised Jane. “You can’t carry a passenger. Only Andrew has a full licence.”
“Really?” said Will.
“I’m afraid so. You need to swap places.” As Will dismounted with evident displeasure, a yellow Mazda MX-5 squealed into the close and halted in front of Jane’s garage. A tall girl, tanned the deepest shade of crystal black bronze, her raven-black hair swept back tautly in ponytail, got out. She was wearing stretch blue denim jeans that looked like they’d been sprayed on, dagger high-heeled white ankle boots and a tight pink tee-shirt that left little to the imagination. Large gold hoops hung from her ears. “Oh, Chantelle’s here. She’s a bit early.”
“Hello, your Ladyship.” The girl walked up to Jane who was stood at the end of the path and kissed her on the lips then stared at Andy. Andy scowled as he mounted the scooter. “Who’s the pretty girl?” she announced to no-one in particular. She walked towards the scooter: “Seeing someone else, are you: I thought you were my squeeze when Jane allows.” She alloked Andy up and down admiringly. “Don’t you look chic!” she exclaimed. “Love the boots. Aren’t you the most adorable thing: the perfect biker girl.” She looked across at Jane: “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Go right ahead, pet,” said Jane, at which Chantelle gave Andy in turn a deep kiss on the lips. “You look positively edible, sweetheart. And is this your young man? Isn’t he the lucky one? How long have you been Andy’s boyfriend?”
“I think that’s enough, Chantelle,” said Lady Jane. “Have you been drinking Red Bull again?” Come here and let the two lovebirds go. And you two: no going on the beach, and definitely no going under the pier. I don’t want the heels on my Loubous getting damaged on all those pebbles.”
In the wing mirror, Andy could see a tongue-tied Will looking ever more flustered. Andy looked over his shoulder and said, “Get on the back, honey, we’re going.” Still checking his wing mirror, he quickly pulled out his gold lipstick and went over his lips. That Chantelle had really messed them. “Helmet on and hold the strap,” he instructed Will. The rear of the bike sank slightly as it took his friend’s weight. Then he felt an arm curve round his waist. It held him tight. He could feel Will press against him. Heaven.
Fortunately Will’s new Vespa had a push button and didn’t need a kick-start. Just before he pressed, he felt Will’s helmet bump against his and heard his friend say, “Andy, please can you show me how you eat the flake on your Ninety-nine?”
“Sure will,” Andy replied and the engine on the scooter whirred into life, and the bike pulled away towards the main road.
“Don’t they make a lovely couple,” said Aunt Jane, semi-rhetorically.
“Yes, but your boy looks like he needs something more than a bike engine throbbing between his legs,” said Chantelle.
“I’m sure you’re right darling,” responded Jane. “And what would you like throbbing between yours this afternoon? Or have you just come for some lunch and a cup of tea?”
Wasn't that so much fun?
Thank you my dear Skinnie XXX
Now a question, why the heck are these things so flipping hot? what is it about a sleek heel that turns us on so?
