Indian Sales Woman
.my nowhairless wrists.Noticing that made my heart rate jump up, but it didn't prepare me forthe sight of hair, this time from my head, slowly pouring down into myline of vision. I tried to tear myself away, to get back to the mirrorto see what was happening, but as I held onto Tami's hands somethingelse inside was keeping me there, standing in front of her. Whateverthis was, I guess I just felt safer, more secure, with my friend thereto help me; and despite her still shocked expression, she did not seemlike she was going to move at all, either.There was a strange sound now, a slight straining noise; it was thewaist of my slacks, and I could feel my leather belt digging into mysides, into my hips. Further down, the bottom of the pant legscontinued to bunch up; I took a small step forward, getting out of myother shoe without having to untie anything, my feet now small enoughto slip loose without the help, and looked back up in time to realizethat I was now closer to eye-level with. She was dead to them. Sara was the only mom they ever remember. Sara knew that her husband would have wanted her to move on, but still two years removed and she couldn’t even bring herself to date. It’s not like she didn’t have offers, but she wasn’t ready. She was a hottie. 5’4” 140 lbs with 34DD. Her long red hair and green eyes accentuated a soft beautiful smile. She rode her bicycle 5 days a week. Averaging about 150 miles a week. She averaged over 22 miles an hour. At 42 years old, she could keep up with some of the elite men on long group rides. She raced a little and placed third in the OBRA (Oregon Bicycle Racing Association) Road Racing Championship Women’s Division. She was only 3 seconds back in the 52 mile race. The two women ahead of her were nearly half her age. She had competed in some triathlons, but swimming wasn’t her forte. The long hours in the saddle were therapeutic. Riding gave her purpose. A reason to get up in the morning so to speak. Still she longed for.
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