Pedal Faster

“How on earth do women do this?” I angrily thought to myself. I was so frustrated I didn’t know whether to be angry, laugh or cry. I certainly wanted to get this “little road trip”, as Brad called it, over with as quickly as possible but the faster I pedaled the more my skirt would rise forcing me to slow down and try too shove it back into place. All the while I muttered under my breath cursing my luck of the draw. I reached into the frilly, frog patterned basket attached to the bikes handlebars, pulling out the paper with the directions I was to follow.

It had been bad enough leaving the campus. The jeers and howls of laughter were totally expected but now I was heading thru a low rent section of town and the sounds I was hearing didn’t sound nearly as jovial. Actually they sounded down right scary. I started to pick up the pace and to heck with what the skirt did. Ahead, I could make out the rail road tracks that told me I was almost to my destination. I may have been perspiring as I left campus but now I was sweating buckets and not just from the heat.

Number 23, I had picked number 23. Brad smiled as I showed him the number on the slip of paper I had just pulled out of the bucket he held. Looking at the gleeful expression on Brad’s face left me queasy. In seeing my discomfort Brad simply chuckled.

Just another block further and I pulled up to my destination. Walking up the entrance I pulled out a ten to pay the cover charge but the doorman just laughed looking at me and said, “It’s ladies night you get in for free darling.”