ChaPTER TwElvE
Caroline was at the bottom of the lift waiting for her and her bike to be taken to the top of the mountain. The final day of the second race in the series was bright and clear and the crowds were enormous. The gondola operator recognized her and allowed her to sit alone on the wide bench instead of having to share with others. The chair could hold as many as four, but since she was alone, she sat dead center.The nineteen-minute ride to the top was noisy. The hum of the cable pulling her and her fellow finalists, their bikes, and the hundreds of fans that dotted the course up and down the hill was steady. She could see most of the trail below her and watched as a rider made her way down the mountain, zigzagging around the hairpin turns, jumping over rocks, and vaulting over ditches. No one rode that good. No one could do what that woman was doing except one person, and Caroline watched intently as Shannon negotiated every turn and challenge. When she crossed the finish line, the roar of the crowd hurt her ears, even as far away as she was.
Caroline shuddered. It wasn’t because it was cool at the top of the eight-thousand-foot mountain or because of the 360 degree view of the valley. She shuddered after watching Shannon conquer the mountain with the skill and grace rarely displayed by any other rider, male or female. Her bike was an extension of her body. Her legs connected to the pedals as if they were her own feet, the handlebars a lengthening of her arms, the machine flowing under her like a ballerina floating through the air.
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JuliE CaNNoN
It had been ten years and Shannon had only gotten more attractive with age. Where once was a lanky teenager, now was a stunningly gorgeous woman. Her shyness had been augmented with confidence almost verging on cockiness. Her hot looks were replaced with charisma and sex appeal. Either way, Shannon still had the ability to take her breath away, and she hated herself for it. She knew Shannon’s reputation on the circuit. Hell, she had seen it in person. She had more women after her than anyone she had ever seen. Caroline was no prude, but even she drew the line at someone new in her bed in every city.
Maybe she was jealous. The thought of Shannon doing to another woman what she had done to her made it seem somehow cheap and superficial. Touch here, get moan in return. Run tongue down there and get quiver of response. Insert finger into slot A then remove. Repeat action until orgasm is achieved.
“What in the hell am I doing?” Caroline shouted into the thin air.
Her seat bounced in reaction to her body’s forceful question. “This is one of the biggest races of my life and I’m thinking about everything other than the next forty minutes of my life. I could get myself killed.
Snap out of it, Caroline. Pull your head out of Shannon’s crotch and concentrate.” The last word finished just before she arrived at the summit.
Caroline smoothly stepped off the lift and gathered her thoughts back to where they should be—on the race ahead of her as she waited for her bike to be passed to her. She had to be on the top of her game or not only could she lose this event, she could hurt herself severely if she weren’t careful. A broken collarbone, or any other major injury, and her chance at the championship was over.
Approaching the start line, Caroline closed her eyes and envisioned the course below. She had memorized the trail as described on the map and after the ten practice laps she had run over the past few days, she was comfortable with what she needed to do when. The course was challenging, to say the least; this was, after all, the world championship.
Not a race for novices or the tentative. She would attack the mountain like she attacked everything and in the end would not say she didn’t give it her best.
The bell sounded and in almost the blink of an eye she was approaching the bottom half of the course. The turns were tighter,
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Descent
the climbs steeper, the terrain rougher than at the top, and even more dangerous as the riders tired. Her front tire hit a mogul harder than she anticipated, the jolt absorbed by her front fork shock absorbers. Her right hand slipped off her grip and her handlebar veered to the left. Her front wheel threatened to spin out from under her and she struggled to maintain control. If she fell on this part of the course it would be more than a little painful, it would be disaster.
Crossing the finish line, Caroline knew she had not beaten Shannon’s time. She turned and saw that her slip in that last turn had, in fact, cost her the race. She finished second to Shannon by seven tenths of a second. The crowd was cheering and she knew some of it was for her but most was for Shannon who was in the hot seat, the place just under the scoreboard where the leader sat until dethroned by the next fastest rider. She was half sitting, half standing against her bike, her helmet in one hand, a Gatorade in the other. The smile on her face said it all.Before Caroline could turn away, Shannon looked directly at her.
She was too far away to read the expression in her eyes, but her wide smile dropped ever so slightly before she nodded at Caroline. It was as if she were telling her something but Caroline had no idea what it was and quite frankly didn’t care.
A crowd gathered around her and Caroline dismounted before she was knocked over. Congratulatory slaps on her back and “good race,”
“nice try,” and “you’ll get her in France” echoed from all directions.
Twenty minutes later, one of the race sponsors somehow found her and took her bike and led her to the podium. Being the second place finisher, she would stand on the pedestal to the right of where Shannon would stand. The third place finisher would flank Shannon’s other side.
Caroline drank from her water bottle while the pomp, circumstance, and speeches droned on. She was sweaty, hot, tired, and more than a little disappointed. She could have won this race if she had only had her complete attention on the race the entire time leading up to her final run. But no, she had to have a wet dream about Shannon and what it was like when she—a jolt in her side and a whistle brought her out of her daydreaming. Her name must have been called because everyone was looking at her, including the woman in third place. Tentatively, she stepped forward and onto the box with a big number two emblazoned
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JuliE CaNNoN
on the front. She was handed a bouquet of flowers, and a medal was placed around her neck.
Caroline acknowledged Fran, who had managed to get no closer than three deep in the crowd. She was waving and whistling and jumping up and down. Fran didn’t care she had come in second.
Fran’s enthusiasm was contagious and Caroline couldn’t help but smile in return. It was only one race, after all. There were ten more to go, including the marathon twenty-four-hour race in Australia. She and Shannon were tied in points and she was only five tenths of a second behind her.
Caroline was acutely aware of Shannon standing next to her.
Shannon’s body was fit and firm and she filled out her bike shorts better than anyone Caroline had ever seen. Some riders chose to wear baggies, modified hiking shorts with the traditional bike short sewn in. Caroline had several pair herself but chose to wear the more fitted shorts in terrain like today’s where branches could snag on the material and slow her down, or worse.
A tall, too thin blonde placed the medal around Shannon’s neck and instead of kissing her on the cheek, she planted her lips directly on Shannon’s. The crowd loved it, Shannon appeared to be surprised, and Caroline steamed.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer’s voice boomed over the public address system. “The winner of stage two of the world championship mountain bike series. Shannon Roberts.”