‘Dennis Sour, really? That had to be a tough name to grow up with, Sour. And now you are wearing a sour face. I’ll bet you aren’t Asian at all t...o.’ The shifter watched John carefully, but still was unwilling to speak. ‘Okay, Dennis,’ John said, clearly not willing to play interrogator any longer, ‘or should I call you Denise?’ John watched as the man’s face became more feminine, the ‘five o’clock shadow’ began to fade and then disappeared completely. His hair began to grow long and fell. The desire was there, what she needed most was a qualified coach to help her realize her ambition. Today, however, she’d be satisfied with a pace of between thirteen and fourteen. No use pushing it so early in the season, especially after months of down time. There would be plenty of time for strutting her aerobic stuff, hammering over thirty to fifty miles. Club rides, while not official races could still get competitive, and Mallory liked nothing better than going wheel-to-wheel with riders. More

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