Right there, on the front row, square in front of the podium, sat Deborah.A soft pink satin blouse accompanied a short, black skirt, black heels and a...mischievous grin.She winked.I smiled.Sitting beside Deborah was a younger lady I’d not seen. Though she was sitting, I guessed she was probably a good 5’-10” and probably in her late twenties, maybe early thrities. She had a killer smile, flowing, wavy dark red hair, and wore a simple black dress that showed off the kind of legs that make men. Then, one Thursday evening, I got a call."Hi ... it's Nita Tomlinson. You gave me a card – we met at Grantham Moto." Hey, Nita. Good to hear from you." Any chance of that ride? This weekend?" Sure! Anywhere in particular you'd like to go?" Country, and water. Somewhere cool." Rufford Park? Clumber?" Either would be great!" Have you got any gear? Helmet?" Yes. The helmet's well past its use-by date, but I expect it's good enough to keep the law away." Saturday morning, then? Eight? Nine?"She. More

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