The Mechanic

"Here you go. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thanks," Riley started, before realising this was her chance. "Oh wait, maybe, actually...," she struggled, ruining her chance to come across casual. She soldiered on: "Would you mind giving me Rowan's phone number? She wrote it down for me but I accidentally washed it with my jeans." Riley was quite pleased with herself: it sounded completely plausible and added an air of nonchalance in that she hadn't particularly treasured the piece of paper.

"She wrote her number down for you? Really?" Megan looked at her with a combination of disbelief and amusement.

"Yes," Riley said slowly, getting a bit worried about this strange reaction. "On a piece of paper," she added, as if that made all the difference.

"Rowan never gives a girl her number."

Riley panicked. Never, never? Or was this another facet of her player routine, and would she only give it to the ones for whom she'd also bring out the big guns? "She gave it to me," she said defiantly, emphasising the 'me', and added a unconcerned shrug, as if to say it didn't matter much either way.

"I don't think so...," Megan said pensively, scrutinising Riley as if waiting for her to come clean. Riley was starting to get the dreadful feeling she was missing something. She didn't know what else to say so she just gave the bartender a questioning look. Megan took her time before replying, increasing Riley's nerves by the second.

"Rowan doesn't use her phone. There would literally be no point in her giving you her number," she said eventually, with a grin that said 'I'm on to you'.

Riley felt utterly deflated. What kind of cave person did not use their phone? Surely that couldn't be true.

"What do you mean, she doesn't use her phone?"

"She just doesn't. I guess she can't really while she's working: dirty hands and all that. But even after work, she's a terrible communicator. I think she's messaged or called me three times in the last year. Most of the time she doesn't even know where her phone is. She's more of a face-to-face kind of person."

Riley couldn't believe it. She had no idea how to go from here. Clearly, Megan had seen straight through her white lie and there was no way she could pretend it was the truth.

"But... how do people get in touch with her?" she asked feebly, truly not seeing any other way.

"You mean, how do you get in touch with her?" Megan was clearly amused, snickering to herself, until she saw the desperation on Riley's face. Her expression softened. "Damn girl, she got you good, hah?"

Riley sighed and admitted: "I guess so." She put her head in her hands and stared at her beer. She did not want to sulk in front of Megan, but she felt like her world had come crashing down. This had been her last chance of establishing contact with Rowan, and now it was gone.

Megan shook her head ruefully. "She has that effect on girls." She paused, while drying a pint glass with a cloth. Riley wondered suddenly if Megan spoke from experience. She tried to shake the image of Megan and Rowan together. If that was Rowan's standard, she stood no chance.

"Look, if you really want to see her again, just pop by her workplace. I'm sure she'd like that."

Riley looked up from her sulk with an equal mix of pure joy and sheer panic at the thought of being reunited with the woman of her wet dreams. She had pictured herself carefully composing a cool and witty message to Rowan and slowly building up a stream of flirty communication over the phone. Instead, she'd have to physically face her, and prevent herself from being swept off her feet. She wasn't sure she would be brave enough to do that. Megan must have caught her expression; she laughed and added: "She's really not as intimidating as she looks."

Riley's reply got stuck in her throat and she quickly took a swig of beer. She looked helplessly at Megan, unsure of what to say.

Megan smiled empathetically. "Her garage is called 'Ride Again'. It's on Highland Road; green sign, you can't miss it. She works Mondays to Saturdays until 6pm. Oh, and she lives in the apartment above the garage, in case you don't find her in the workshop."

The thought of meeting Rowan in her home made Riley's heart race and her throat go even drier. "Thank you," she croaked, trying to shake distracting images of Rowan's bed.

"You're welcome. Don't stress it, okay? See how you feel."

Riley nodded, grateful for Megan's understanding. She thought for a second and then spoke up: "Would you mind not mentioning to Rowan that I stopped by?" She would be horrified if she didn't go and Rowan found out she was too scared.

Megan seemed to understand this too; she just nodded and said: "Sure, no problem."

Riley thanked her again, paid for her drinks and left. She had a lot of thinking to do.

* * * * *

Riley stood opposite the 'Ride Again - Motorbike Mechanics' garage, observing from a safe distance on the other side of the street. It was Saturday late afternoon, just over a week after she had met Rowan; two days since she'd found out where Rowan worked, and that this was her only chance to get in touch with her. Although she would have much preferred to slowly pick up the contact over phone messages - like normal people would - her desire to see Rowan had overcome her fear and she had made her way across town.

Yet, she had been standing here a while, her legs unwilling to move and cross the road. She tried again to kick herself into motion. She had made it this far, gone through all this effort; what would be the point if she backed out now? Still, she was nervous and, even now, doubted every decision that led her here: from her initial luminous idea to speak to Megan, to the clothes she had decided to wear. What if she read all the signs wrong and this was all a big mistake?

She'd spent considerably more time on her appearance than the last time she'd seen Rowan. This was unusual for her, but somehow it felt hugely important how she looked, as if it could make the difference between Rowan throwing herself on her, or throwing her out of her shop. So she had carefully done her hair, which now fell in straight blond locks around her face. She had put on some mascara and lip gloss, and chosen a cute short, blue summer dress that showed her off her legs and her slim waistline, and had ample cleavage to make her boobs look great. She had paired this with her black Dr. Martens boots to create the impression that she wasn't just some girly 'girl next door'.

Realising that standing here longer was only making her more nervous, Riley took a deep breath and crossed the road. She tried to look through the window in the door but could not see much. Scared to be seen peeking, she pushed the door open and a little bell announced her presence as she walked in.

"Take a seat, please, I'll be right there!" Rowan's distinct husky voice called out cheerfully.

Fighting the urge to run out again, Riley looked around. There were three plastic chairs between the door and a counter with a cash register on it. That must be where she was meant to sit down. Opposite the door the rest of the workshop stretched out. The walls were covered with tools and spare parts, interspersed with vintage metal ads for motorcycle brands and bike licence plates from all over the world. In the centre of the room stood a partly disassembled bike - clearly the current patient - and a few more bikes could be seen towards the back of the room.

Riley considered sitting down, but wasn't sure if she could keep from seeming too keen. She tried to act casual and take a look around. As she wandered a bit further into the workshop, she saw a scuffed pair of tan Timberland boots sticking out from behind the disassembled bike. Her heart skipped a beat; there she was! Riley back-peddled and turned away quickly, pretending to be very interested in a license plate from Barbados. A moment later, Riley heard Rowan get up. She kept staring at the plate, sticking with her 'playing it cool' routine while her heart raced.

"Right, that is that... Now, how can I help you?"

Riley turned to face Rowan and took in the full sight of the handsome mechanic. She was wearing baggy blue coveralls that were rolled down, the sleeves tied around her waist. Above that she wore a white tank-top, through which a black sports bra was showing. Riley's eyes were drawn to her small, perky breasts, which had been well hidden the last time they met. She had never looked at a woman this way before, but the sight of them made her insides flutter.

Equally drawing her attention were Rowan's muscular arms and broad shoulders, which Riley had been envisioning earlier, along with her tattooed sleeve, which covered her right arm from hand to shoulder. The tattoo depicted various things that were important to Rowan, she had said. Riley could see part of a clock, a mountain, and a musical instrument, possibly a saxophone. Feeling herself get lost in the intricately inked details, she had to consciously will her eyes to move on.

Rowan wore half-finger black leather gloves and was wiping the exposed tips of her fingers on a dirty rag. That wouldn't make much of a difference to her overall appearance; there was more grease on her top and even a smear on her face from where she'd pushed her unruly hair out of her face. She looked scruffy and dirty, but the total picture was irresistibly sexy. Riley suppressed a deep urge to rush forward and press her lips to Rowan's.

"Well, hello there, straight girl." Rowan grinned broadly when she recognised Riley. Her eyes moved along Riley's body, taking in her well-considered appearance. Appreciation coloured her gaze, as she paused on certain parts of Riley's body. If a man had done that to her, Riley would have considered him a creep, but somehow when Rowan did it, it made her go weak at the knees.

"Hi..." Riley struggled to remember anything she had wanted to say. She had prepared a story but was drawing a complete blank. Her cool routine had failed already.

"Do you have a problem with your motorbike I can help you with?" Rowan asked sceptically, still grinning.

"Erm... I just came across your shop and thought I'd pop in... to see that bike you mentioned."

"You just came across my shop?" Rowan raised one eyebrow and looked at her disbelievingly.

"Yeah, I was in the neighbourhood." Riley knew it sounded unlikely; Rowan's shop was in a suburban area, hardly the place one just happened to walk around in.

"Okay, sure," Rowan indulged her. After a moment of silence, she added, as if it was a mere afterthought, "hey, how did you know where I worked?"

Riley had hoped Rowan wouldn't question this. She did not want to admit having gone through the trouble of asking her friend; she did not want to seem that desperate. "You told me," she tried, mumbling it quickly, knowing she was on thin ice.

"No, I didn't." Clearly very entertained by the situation, Rowan was not letting her off that easy. She looked at Riley expectantly and waited for another explanation.

Riley sighed. Rowan wasn't going to let this go. She could see why Rowan and Megan were friends; they were like two peas in a pod. "Okay, fine, I went back to the bar and asked Megan."

"Ah, of course... Well, I'm impressed by your determination and resourcefulness." She looked more amused than impressed, and Riley found it hard to gauge how she really felt. Was she flattered and happy Riley was here? Or did she think she was some weird stalker? She had clearly liked the look of Riley, but other than that admiring stare, she hadn't given any explicit signs of appreciation for Riley or her presence here. She was much better at playing it cool than Riley was, that was certain.

"I was just curious about the bike, that's all. The one you were restoring... Is that it?" Riley pointed at the bike in the middle of the room, desperate to change the topic, since jumping each other at first sight was clearly off the menu.

"No, that's a Honda." The unspoken 'obviously' hung in the air before Rowan added, "I'm fixing it for a customer. A bit of a problem child, that one. The Triumph is over there. Come on." She gestured for Riley to follow and walked over to the three bikes in the back of the room.

"This is her. Isn't she a beauty?" Rowan pointed to an orange and white vintage-looking motorbike, "A 1966 Bonneville T120R Roadster, in great condition." She put her hand on the bike lovingly, and Riley wished she could trade places with the old-timer.

Riley didn't know anything about bikes and she wasn't really here for the bike, obviously. She hadn't prepared for appearing knowledgeable and genuinely excited about the vehicle. It didn't really matter: Rowan was surely onto her real motives anyway, even if she was playing along with the cover story.

"It's very nice. It's like looking in a mirror," Riley commented, referring to Rowan choosing this bike as Riley's motorcycle alter-ego, the one that would best fit her personality.

Rowan laughed heartily. "Isn't it? She may be quite a bit older than you, but she's still got it." Her hand stroked the leather seat. "I finished her this morning and I was planning to take her for a test drive now, actually. Do you want to come along?"

"Erm... sure." Riley had never been on a motorbike before and was a nervous about getting on one with her heartthrob. However, before coming here, she had told herself to be brave and not back down this time, whatever came her way.

"Although..." Rowan looked at her again. "That's not going to work..."

Riley wasn't sure what she was talking about and looked on confusedly as Rowan walked off. "Hang on, I think I have..." She rummaged through a coat rack. "Yes, here we are. That will fit you." She handed Riley a leather motor suit.

"Oh..." Riley wasn't sure how she was going to wear that over her dress. "Is that really necessary?"

Rowan shrugged. "I don't want to have to scrape your soft skin off the tarmac if anything happens."

Riley's brain couldn't decide whether to focus on the fact that Rowan just talked about her soft skin, or the 'scraping off the tarmac' part. Her nerves about being on a bike flared. "But nothing is going to happen, right?" she asked, trying to keep the fear from her voice.

Rowan realised she had scared her. "I've never had any accidents and I'm not planning on having my first today. Call me paranoid, but I've seen what coming off a bike does to people who are not dressed properly, and it's not pretty. I would never forgive myself if that happened to you. So please, just wear it, for me?"

Riley would do anything for Rowan, especially if her request was paired with that intense pleading look in her dark eyes. "Okay, fine. Is there anywhere I can change?" There was no way she was going to hike up her dress unceremoniously in front of Rowan.

"Oh, yes, of course. You can go in the back, over there." Rowan pointed her towards a door to the right.

As Riley got to the door, she spotted the calendar that was hanging from it. For August, a naked pin-up with big breasts stood bent over a chair, looking into the camera with a 'fuck me' face. Riley couldn't suppress a snicker. Rowan was such a stereotype.

"Hey, do you have colleagues working with you here?" she asked casually, paused at the door.

Rowan wasn't looking at her, getting the bike ready. "No, just me."

"So this is your decorative touch then?"

Rowan looked up and saw her standing, leafing through the calendar. She grinned. "Oh, no, that's for the customers. They like that kind of stuff."

"Sure, sure..."

"Yeah, and it's also an image thing, you know. You're not a real mechanic without some boobs in your workshop. People just wouldn't take me serious."

"You're so full of shit, Rowan," Riley laughed.

"And you're not changed yet. If you don't get your pretty little ass dressed quickly, I'm going without you."

Still snickering, Riley walked into a small office with a desk and some gym lockers along the wall. She was tempted to peek inside the lockers, but thought better of it. She considered her options for putting on the suit: pulling it over her dress or taking the dress off and wear nothing but the suit. With the first option her dress would be bunched around her waist and would certainly get creased; the second felt overly salacious. Rowan did just mention her pretty little ass, though, that was a step in the right direction at least.

After a moment's hesitation, she pulled off her boots and her dress: salacious it was. That was what she was here for, wasn't it? In just her thong and matching bra - a lovely blue and black lacy set that she'd recently bought but had never worn - she stepped into the suit. The leather felt cool on her skin and the suit was a good fit. She left the zipper open to just past her bra strap, showing great cleavage. It was slutty - and not like her at all - but she wanted Rowan to know she wasn't wearing anything underneath. Time to take this thing up a notch.

When she came back into the workshop, Rowan had put on a leather jacket and Riley noticed that she had also managed to clean the grease off her face. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Riley in the leather suit. Her gaze lingered on her cleavage, practically undressing her with her eyes.

She inhaled visibly, and said: "That's a good fit. I'm glad." Her voice sounded slightly strained as her eyes once again dropped from Riley's face to her breasts. "You're going to have to zip that up, though." She turned away and muttered, only just audible, "unfortunately".

Riley smiled. This was enough for now; she had managed to break through Rowan's cool routine and got the mechanic to show her appreciation, her desire even. She zipped up the suit with a sly grin. "Whatever you want. You're the expert."

Rowan rolled her eyes at her as if to say it wasn't what she wanted at all. She gave Riley a helmet and put one on herself. Riley realised this was going to mess up her hair but it couldn't be helped. She squeezed her head into the helmet as Rowan pushed the bike out through the garage doors. She flipped the store sign from 'open' to 'closed' on her way.

A moment later they were both seated on the bike. Riley was slightly disappointed to find out that there was plenty of space on the leather seat so their bodies weren't quite touching. It was probably for the best; the mere presence of Rowan's body between her legs was already significantly increasing her body temperature and making her insides jump.

"Hold on. Here we go."

Riley couldn't see anywhere else to hold on to, so she put her hands on Rowan's hips, triggering another a surge of heat radiating through her body, lingering between her thighs. The bike vibrated underneath her as they picked up speed and Riley started to understand why people liked riding motorbikes so much. Straddling the powerful machine, the leather of the suit stretched taut over the soft fabric of her thong and the sensitive skin underneath, she could feel every movement of the bike, every variation in the road. It had a tantalising effect and Riley felt her body responding. Feeling herself moisten quickly, she started to worry about soaking through her thong and leaving her mark on Rowan's suit, but she couldn't help giving into the sensations that were coursing through her body.

They soon reached a long empty road. "Let's see what she's got. Hang on tight!" Rowan shouted over her shoulder as she opened the throttle. The bike jumped forward and Riley realised she hadn't experienced a fraction of its power yet.

Feeling unsafe with her loose grip, she wrapped her arms around Rowan's waist and slid forward, pressing her body against Rowan's to anchor herself. In her head, she could see Rowan smiling now; this was probably what she was going for. Riley couldn't complain either; being pressed into the gorgeous woman, her legs on either side of her, was a huge turn-on. It was all Riley could do not to let her hands wander and explore Rowan's body right here and now. It was probably a bad idea to distract the driver, so she just held on tight and enjoyed the physical contact, with all its associated feelings coursing through her body and mind. She was grateful for all the layers of leather separating them; if it weren't for them, Rowan would certainly feel the heat radiating from between her legs.