Chapter 18: Bike Shopping
The next Saturday, Kaitlyn and I met up at one of the local bike shops that both sells and rents, the latter largely for the benefit of tourists that don’t want to bring their own. I wanted to try and find a deal on a used rental that they’d retired after letting tourists beat on it for a year. “Broken in,” they call it. Even if it was just plain “Broken,” if you start with a well-made bike, you have to do an enormous amount of damage before it’s no longer economically repairable. Pretty much anything short of running it over with a car can be fixed for less than buying a new one. I was hoping to get Kaitlyn out of here with a steal.
Luck was with us, and we found a well-treated midnight blue full-suspension Cannondale in a step-through configuration that fit Kaitlyn’s small frame perfectly.
“This is the one, Kaitlyn. It’s perfect for you!” I enthused.
“Are you kidding, me boyo? They want $1200 for this thing! I think my parents paid $100 for my last bike!”
“You’re overlooking a few things, Kaitlyn. First, inflation; the gap’s about half what you’re making it out to be, comparing prices that far apart in time. Second, that was a bike made for a kid who would outgrow it in a few years and abuse it along the way, with no intention that it be saleable at the end of it. This one could easily last you ten, twenty years, and it’ll still have life in it after that. Third, this one has much better components on it than you’ll find on any big-box store cheapie; it’s almost apples and oranges. Fourth, I’m betting your last bike had a fixed frame; this is a full-suspension trail bike; that’ll double or triple the cost all by itself.”
“Well,” she huffed, “I just wasn’t expecting to spend this much.”
“I’d be happy to go in halfsies on it with you,” I offered. She just looked at me, kind of stunned. “It was my idea, after all. I don’t want you to feel like I’m arm-twisting you into this, but I also want you to have some skin in the deal. There’s something about laying your own money down on something great that makes you love it out of proportion to its actual value.”
“You know, you’re right,” she said with a light dawning in her eyes. “And because you’re right, I think I have to pay for it all myself to get full value out of your little psychological trick. Besides, you can’t use it half the time. It’s mine!” she joked.
Glad she was coming around, I then proposed, “How about I pick up the accessories, then?”
“Deal!” she cried.
“Of course, that means I get to pick the styles,” I said, grinning and rubbing my hands together.
“Oh no… I see Spandex in my future,” she said, tremulously.
“That was never in doubt. What’s new is that your outfit will now be bright orange and yellow, the color of your hair, all patterned to draw the eye along your wonderful curves! Also, I get to watch you try it on,” I cackled with glee.
She clapped her hand over her eyes, but peeked through two fingers and grinned at me, blushing. This was going to be fun.
I decided to ratchet up the tension slowly, starting with the water bottle cages, which I chose in a color complementary to the frame, rather than boring black. Then I chose some water bottles that went well with the cages and frame. I added a frame pump, cargo bag set, lights, a cable lock, a tube repair kit, spare tube, new pedals and grips to replace the ones the renters trashed… The bike store guys were getting to be most accommodating.
Soon enough, we got to the good bit.
“Okay, you’re going to need a good set of rain gear. Even out here in the desert, it still rains enough that you’ll want to have it on hand, just in case, especially if you’re going to do the sort of riding I do, mostly camping and commuting, where you can be miles away from shelter or a change of clothing. Nothing worse than riding around in wet clothes, and they won’t let us ride nude on the sidewalks yet. So, we’ve got to have rain gear.”
I picked out a simply styled orange and white rain shell and a slender form-hugging set of yellow rain pants with reflective orange piping. I handed them over, and she walked off toward the changing room. About halfway there, she turned to me and asked, “Are you coming?”
When I said I’d get to see her try them on, I meant I’d be giving her all kinds of fun stuff to try on and model for me, but she took it to mean I’d get to see her put them on. And also, presumably, take them off. And put other things on. And take those off. Oh my.
“Coming!” is what I said out loud.
I caught a pair of the store employees smirking in my peripheral vision.
In the dressing room, Kaitlyn turned to me, held up the rain pants, and asked, “So, how does this work?”
“If you’re wearing bike shorts, just put these on over them. These aren’t padded, so you still want your shorts’ padding. But when riding home from the office or a store, it’s better to put these on over your underwear, if you’re wearing any, and ride home that way, with your pants or skirt or whatever in the trunk bag, safe from the rain.”
“So, you’re thinking I should peel to my panties out under the grocery store awning to put these on when it’s raining outside, then?” she demanded, with a quirk to her mouth.
“Sounds like fun to me,” I kidded, “but I was actually thinking you’d go into a bathroom or a private office to change.”
“Oh,” she conceded. “And the rain shell?”
“It’s just a waterproof shell with some air controls; you put it on over whatever you’ve already got on so you don’t have to drag along a bulky rain coat. Unlike a normal rain jacket, a shell has no insulation since you’ll be making your own heat on the bike. Also, it has an extra long tail to cover your butt when you’re bent over the handlebars, so you don’t get a constant dribble of cold rain down your crack.” She winced at that image. “Yes, indeed. Also unlike regular rain coats, a biking rain shell usually has adjustments around the neck, wrists, and waist to let you go from battened down to fully open, so you can trade off how much rain and wind can sneak in those paths.”
At that point, she kicked off her shoes and peeled to her panties — white cotton ones again, aaahhhh — put the tight rain pants on, slipped the rain shell on over her top, and zipped it up to her neck. Sadly, the shell’s tail tented over her callipygous Latina ass.
“I look like a commercial for Bic lighters,” she complained, looking in the mirror.
“You look hawt,” I retorted, “and it looks like they both fit perfectly!”
She conceded that they did.
“Check this out,” I said, drawing one of her arms up gently by the wrist. “This rain shell has zippers under the arms to let cooling air in without getting you wet; your arms block the rain and guide it down and away while the ride’s rushing air vents the shell. Without good air controls, it can get really sticky inside one of these things when you’re in the middle of a strenuous bike ride, it’s 100% humidity outside the shell, and you’ve got the neck, wrists, and waist tightened down to keep the rain out.”
“Neat!”
“Let’s go get you a few sets of bike shorts.”
She unzipped the rain shell and left it hanging on a hook in the changing room. Tee shirt and rain pants was a great look on her.
Staying true to my stated plan, I sought out the most flaming colors I could find. And being bike shorts, figure-hugging wasn’t just a fashion statement, it was important to function, too.
We went back into the changing room, and she peeled off the rain pants. I had to lean heavily into my meditation skill set to maintain my outer cool.
“Now, these are padded shorts, which means they’re meant to be worn instead of panties so they don’t slip around or push the seams of your underwear into your skin, causing chafing. The only time you put them on over underwear is when trying them on in a store like this if you are at all unsure whether you’re going to buy them. Some people put various sorts of powders and lubricants on the chamois, the padded bit that runs from the crotch through the shorts’ seat, to keep you drier or to reduce irritation. You were unsure earlier about whether clothing is technology, but these definitely are, which is why they can cost over $100 a pair.”
She bit her slender lip as she thought about this. “I’d definitely better put this first set on over my undies to see if we’re on the right track.” She slipped the shorts on, and they fit perfectly. I had her go through a set of squats, purely to make sure they fit in all the positions. Yep, that was the only reason I was looking at her butt while she bounced up and down in a squat, repeatedly. I was absolutely not making her bounce her booty for my amusement. Nope, no way.
Once I’d milked that outfit change for all it was worth, she peeled them down and then slid her panties down as well. Gaia, my first love, this woman has some rockin’ buns! My everlasting thanks to you for shaping them thus. Life was only slightly less fine once she slipped the next set of shorts up those fine legs and covered her juicy bits. Being the same brand and size, they fit perfectly, too. I had her turn around and squat some more, this time to make sure they didn’t camel-toe too badly without underwear on. Sadly, the chamois did its job well and prevented that. Such a pity.
We had one more set in the booth, but since we’d found two she liked already, we decided to call it good. Kaitlyn decided to wear the shorts out of the shop, so she put her shoes back on and gathered up her panties, which she stuffed quickly into my wide-mouthed back cargo pocket, giving my butt a squeeze before withdrawing her hand. Oh my heart…
I stepped around in front of her, slipped my arms through hers along her flanks, grabbed her shoulders gently from the rear, and gave her a long, soft, mind-melting French kiss. Well, that’s what it was like for me, anyway. She just smiled sweetly afterward, so I guess it was good for her, too.
We got a few more things, hit the register, and got out the door for a mere $1700. I thought we’d gotten away lightly, but Kaitlyn was a bit shocked at the cost of my hobby. “It’ll be worth it; you’ll see, Kaitlyn,” I assured her.