Just a simple damsel in distress story that runs on from Cynthia’s summer job. Dedicated to Heather in memory of the wonderful summer I spent on her parent’s farm in England and her cousin for the unforgettable bike ride. Even if I didn’t quite follow what his new cam shaft did, it sounded delightful.

Oh bye the way red tape first.

Copyrighted Karen Blayne 2001. All copies must be of the complete document.

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Don't read it if you shouldn't. This tale really is fiction.

Luv Karen.

Cynthia sat by the open fire reading a light romance awaiting Nigel’s return. She’d got changed into a long elegant lawn nightdress and had her long legs curled up on the couch. Nigel has given a very successful technical presentation a few days ago in London and had promised her a week in the country to celebrate their engagement before returning back to the States. She had a six pack cooling in the fridge awaiting his return. They had rented a very picturesque cottage, half timber framed, full of character. She hadn’t yet found the thermostat for the central air-conditioning, nor the central heating, but she was sure she’d work it out in time. All these English light switches worked the wrong way, but the English electric kettle boiled much faster.

Maggie had lit the open fire for her before leaving saying it was a bit chilly this evening and she was sure being Americans they’d like a bit of warmth. It seemed strange having some-one come in to do the washing up and so forth. It was pleasant having a resident cat sleeping on the window sill.

She watched as he stretched, jumped down, stood at the front door and turned his head back to look at her. Didn’t she understand she was there for his benefit? She got up and strolled over to the door. Outside the sun was setting, she stepped outside to better admire the view then a gust of wind slammed the door to behind her. She tried the door, locked. Why hadn’t she remembered the locks were different over here? She remembered Maggie saying that they had had some trouble from the townies recently so all the windows and doors had had their security upgraded. Oh well only an hour or two to wait until Nigel returned she’d sit under the porch and watch the swallows.

Twenty minutes later it had started to rain when she heard a vehicle coming up the lane, she stood and looked to see if Nigel was back but only saw an old battered Land Rover which pulled over onto the drive.

"Miss Chappell I presume, Major Kettle, live up at the manor house don’t you know. Everything all right I trust or have you managed to get yourself locked out? Since you’re one of my tenants we can soon get a spare key from the estate room. Hop in then out of the rain. Here you are pull this rug round you to keep you warm and make you look more respectable as we pass through the village. Keeps the gossip down". "American are you? That explains it, I really must change the lock to one you need to lock with a key when you go out like the ones you have back home. Oh don’t mind the lambs in the back, we’ll drop mother and babies off on the way round." Cynthia feeling unthreatened and comfortable climbed into the Land Rover and pulled the rug around her. "There we are, I’ve put the heater on soon have you warm and dry."

They drove off up the lane and came to a gate half a mile up the road. "Won’t be a jiffy, just pop out, open the gate, then drop mother and child out over by the oak trees where there is a bit of shelter from the rain." He stepped out and opened the gate, drove through, then stepped out once more to close the gate. Then they drove across a rather muddy field to a bunch of trees on the other side. "Mildred is getting a bit long in the tooth these days but she still manages to get round and drop the odd bale of hay off in remote fields and so forth. Fine old girl." He said patting the dash board. "Here we are." He switched off and clambered out and let down the tail gate. Mother was lifted down first followed by two bleating lambs who dashed over to the ewe who was stood under one of the oak trees. The Major slung a bale of hay after them and climbed back into the cab. "There that’s done now back to the manor house." He turned the key but Mildred refused to start. The tank showed empty. "Oops I forgot Mildred doesn’t like parking on the slope when the tank isn’t very full. Hang on I’ll get the jerrican out." He got out and dug round the back coming up with an empty jerrican. "Sorry about this I think young Helen my daughter must have run out of cash and raided the petrol can. I’ll walk back to the manor and get the Range Rover out with a spare can of juice. You just stay nice and safe here it’s far too wet and windy for you to come out. I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so you’re quite safe here." With this he started to walk back across the field towards the Manor house.

Cynthia lent back and watched the lambs frolicking and the rain falling. It was so peaceful in the country. It was so pleasant to get away from the traffic roar that seemed to be everywhere in London. Suddenly the peace and quiet was shattered by the roar of motorbikes. She sank down in the seat.

"See I told you there was someone stuck down here. Let’s go see if they want a hand?" "I’ve always fancied driving one of these things through a hedge." "What you drive four wheels? You’re bad enough on three." "Come on then let’s try the door and get this thing fucking started." "What you mean it’s locked, put a knife through the fucking canvas then and put your bleeding hand inside. Stone the bleeding crows don’t you know anything about breaking into a soft top Land Rover."

Cynthia cowered back as a knife came through the canvas top on the driver’s side followed by a hand, which swung the door open. "Bleeding Hell there’s a fucking cow in here." "Let’s have her out then and have a look." A knife sliced through the canvas close to her head, a leather covered hand thrust through and opened the door. Two leather covered arms reached in and scooped her up. "Let’s have her out of there, nice and young what’s your name love?" "I’m damned if I’ll tell you that." "Fucking hell an American. Let’s have that rug off her. That’s fucking better our very own American wet tee shirt contest." Cynthia looked down in horror and saw how the falling rain was fast rendering her white lawn nightdress transparent. She raised her hands to cover herself as best she could.

"Don’t she look sweet? Our very own damsel in distress." One biker started to undo his belt. "Well if she isn’t at the moment she soon will be." "Hang about lads, hang about. This is your leader speaking now this here is a lady she deserves better than a quick tumble in the mud besides which in this rain I’d get my fucking ass wet and I’m not fucking having that. First introductions, you’re about to be well and truly fucked by the fucking Demons darling. What we’ll do is have a nice little competition, a race to Susie’s place then we’ll have her on a nice warm double bed. First prize first one in. I’ve got some big H in my pocket so she can have a really nice hit before we start to get her in the party mood." He leered looking at Cynthia. "But we don’t stand a chance the three of us on the sidecar." "Well you’d be last in anyway cause I’m not having anyone after you three pox laden cretins have had her. Haven’t you heard of safe sex? I mean to say Marcus if you think I’m dipping my wick in after your gonorrhea and AIDS infected dick has been in and would you want to even dip yours in after herpes Harry there or genital warts Walter? No you three come last and draw straws as to which hole you get each." Cynthia felt faint. How could she go back to her darling Nigel after this? God wasn’t this the point where in the film he would sweep down with his full commanding six foot three height at the head of the U.S. Calvary?

"What about them DNA tests they have these days then?" "DNA tests don’t you worry about them. We’ll sell her to Ramdom, after her taste of big H the first time she’ll like it at Ramdom’s. He fuck her himself for two weeks feeding her a dose a day then three days without at the end of which she’ll do anything for a fix. And she will, have her own nice little crib, be a nice little earner she will, 200 quid a day easy at a fiver a fuck. After she’s been there a few months they’ll be so much sperm inside her they’ll never be able to detect ours was in first. You never know once she’s banged up one of his people will marry her and take her back to his mud village in Afghanistan. Lots of rights for women there my son and she won’t even be able to speak the local lingo."

"Nice one. So Marcus gets to go last to infect her then she infects hundreds of immigrants. Really nice one, Marcus you fuck her up good alright. Five times, cause you only pick up pox once in four times. Remember that from school I do." Cynthia was feeling really scared now.

"How you going to fucking get her to Susie’s then? First cop car you pass with her on the back and no helmet will be a pull over! Besides which she’ll die of exposure on a night like this." In answer a totally black bike rolled over, the rider opened a helmet box on the back. "Right then get it on." The rider then held out two balls in the palm of their hand. "Fucking hell, great idea she’ll be nice and wet with these inside, Ta mate. Put them in cow." Cynthia knew exactly what they were. She’d used them once before on a bet at a Christmas party she’d kept them in for an hour. She’d blamed it on the Cherry Brandy but she knew exactly what effect they would have. She felt totally shamed as she slipped them inside watched with great interest by the bikers. A side pannier was opened and over-trousers were passed out, Cynthia donned them together with a jacket, boots and gauntlets. The rider motioned her on the back. As she sat down she could feel the powerful motor’s vibrations between her thighs as the motor ticked over, reflected deep inside her pussy.

The bike pulled away with a roar, Cynthia looked over the shoulder of the rider and wrapped her arms around their waist clinging on for dear life itself. For a moment she had dared think that Nigel was riding this iron steed but then she ruled the possibility out she was so much taller than the rider. They sped across the field and out onto the lane, turned sharp left and roared off into the night. It was obvious that this rider meant to come in first place. Other members of the pack were roaring up behind. They drove down one of the tree lined narrow winding lanes, first her left knee would touch the road then her right knee as the rider took full advantage of the full width of the road cranking the bike over for each bend. She looked behind and saw an army of headlights coming along behind. They braked sharply, she thought the balls inside were going up into her tummy for a moment, then another crank this time to the right. The balls inside distracted her and it was with only half her mind that she looked ahead, a hump back bridge sign followed by a brick wall across the road. Her tummy took off as the bike literally took off over the hump back bridge The bike landed and they swerved right at the T junction barely missing the brick wall ahead. Then she heard the engine screaming once more as they roared off into the night. She sort of settled down, arms wrapped around the figure ahead, the vibrations deep inside distracted her from her thoughts. They slowed down once more then turned off the lane. She looked to the side as they passed over a wooden footbridge her knees inches from the sides at sixty odd miles an hour the wooden railings a blur in the night.

The bike bounced underneath her as she felt it climb. She looked down to see they seemed to be climbing a hill in some sort of stream bed, the headlight’s beam swinging wildly from left to right as they swerved to avoid boulders and trees that lay scattered about. Then they crested the hill and cut onto the road. She could see the town laid out below the roads picked out with street lights sparkling in the night. Then they were speeding up again, down the hill brake, round a sharp bend, speed up, and another hairpin bend. Another bike came racing up alongside. The two bikes swept the full width of the road once more, cutting the corners as they descended in formation. As they approached one corner her rider braked sharply letting the other bike take the lead. They passed the crumpled remains fifty yards further on where he hadn’t made the corner. Soon they were passing the 30 mph sign at the entrance to the town. They turned left passing between two no entry signs, swerving onto the sidewalk scattering pedestrians to avoid a stream of cars coming the opposite way up the one way street. They hung a left through a shopping precinct, ran down a flight of steps then swung right bounced straight across a roundabout barely missing a keep left sign as they bounced onto the main road.

Just barely room for two cars to pass here, she looked ahead to see a truck’s tail lights ahead, the bike slowed hovering, waiting for a break in the traffic, then a roar and they were away. No a sharp brake she looked up to see another truck bearing down on them, this must be it. She started to think about all the things she hadn’t yet done. The bike wobbled slightly and her shoulder was bruised as the bike tucked itself under the trailer. Then they pulled away once more into the night. She looked back to see another motor cycle trailing not that far behind.

Ten minutes later they hit another roundabout and slowed down, taking the motorway ramp, then they braked again coming along side a white sports car with a long bonnet. The rider leant over and thumped the top of the white sports car then took off up the motorway. She looked back to see a blue flashing light. There were no gaps, she knew all the cars were travelling in a block at 70 mph with only a few feet between cars. They merged into the traffic, then ran between lanes overtaking the cars as if they were stationary. Then they moved out and made their own lane just outside the fast lane the road barely two feet wide between the crash barrier and the lane markings for the fast lane. She looked back again to see cars moving over as a motorcycle and flashing light followed them in the fast lane. They came off after a few junctions and seemed to slow down the urgency gone from the ride as if the blast of speed up the motorway was enough.

As they came through the village barely fast enough to keep the bike upright she noticed a blue police panda car pull out and tuck in behind them. It escorted them to, could it be her own her half timbered cottage? The bike pulled up. She could see Nigel standing in the doorway. Cynthia climbed down shaking from the back of the bike. She unstrapped her full face helmet and put it down on the ground. She held her arms out to Nigel and slowly staggered towards him. Nigel ran across and gathered her in his arms.

"Evening Lady Helen" the policeman addressed the rider who was just taking off her helmet and shaking her shoulder length hair out. "Nice evening for a ride then?" "Well yes I thought so, just been showing our American tenant a bit of the countryside before her boyfriend returned. Come in and I’ll make you two a cup of coffee and you can tell me all the gossip." She led them inside where they sat down with Cynthia and Nigel. "Actually Bert it’s so close to end of shift time for you would you like a beer instead?" "If you put that that way your ladyship I daren’t refuse." Cynthia jumped up, I’ll get you a nice cold one out of the fridge and I’m sure I saw a lemon in the kitchen." "If it’s all the same to you mam I’d prefer a warm one without added fruit. I’ve heard tell that too much of this here fruit and vegetables is powerful bad for a man."

After Lady Helen had served coffee and slipped Alfred a can of beer to have later Bert spoke. "Been a powerful lot of accidents with them townies on them there motor cycles tonight." "Really I didn’t notice anything." "Arh well four or five of em tried to take the old hump back bridge at ninety. Foolish that were cause they didn’t make it see. Lot of broken bones they left there. Then old Mrs. Cummings walked down to the pub and rang up. Apparently some idiot tried to take a motorcycle and sidecar across her footbridge. By the time she’d had to walk the long way round and the ambulance got there all they found was two bikes and a motorcycle and sidecar in the river. They have divers down there now pulling out bodies. Know what I think, I think they be playing follow my leader I do, stupid game to play at the best of times." "Aren’t you forgetting the one who took one of the bends too fast? Or the three that rode through the shopping precinct? One missed and went through a plate glass window. Lucky it were the empty one. Mind you the best of the lot were Sergeant Watson. Up on the motorway in his new high-speed pursuit vehicle he was with policewoman constable Jenkins when one of them came and thumped his roof. Keri Jenkins says he were right annoyed when the first bike lost him, and him flat out at a hundred and twenty five miles per hour but he made up for it with the second, caught him, speeding at a hundred and twenty miles an hour, no insurance, wrong type of driving license, out of date tax disk and that there hard drug stuff in his pocket. I dare say he’ll be up before your dad in the morning he will." "And there was I thinking you were supposed to promote road safety and such." "Well Sergeant Watson was so full of his new motor, fastest thing on wheels I reckoned he needed taking down a peg or two." "I know Keri was saying to me only last week she wished my Uncle Henry hadn’t brought him the thing." "Well when next you see the chief constable drop a hint that my old Panda car don’t get around as good as it used to, won’t mind one of them new fangled Range Rovers. Useful in the country they be."

"I’ll see what I can do. Now I think you’d better get back on patrol and I’d better take my brother’s new bike back to the manor house." "Oh his new one is it? Wouldn’t be one of those Japanese superbikes that can do a bit faster than Sergeant Watson’s new high speed whatever it is would it?" "Now Bert would I know a thing like that?" "Yes I reckon you might at that and I can’t think of anyone who knows the lanes round here quite as good as yourself." Bert’s radio crackled. Apparently a couple of motorcycles had had a collision in an old streambed could Yankee Foxtrot one please go and investigate. "We’ll bid you goodnight then Miss and go and sort out a few more townies. The cottage hospital will be full by morning I reckon." "Good night then Arthur, Bert I’ll speak to Uncle Simon about a new Range Rover for you. Save your feet cutting across the fields."

"Do you think they knew". "Of course but would you book the chief constable’s niece for speeding? Or your mother’s landlady? They’ll be quiet enough. I’m sorry about what happened tonight, I felt so awful after I borrowed some petrol from Mildred for my mini. We saw the bikes arrive and the only thing we had lying around that could cut across the field was Simon’s bike. Then of course it was the only way to snatch you away. I was a bit afraid you might be scared by my driving unless you were distracted hence … Anyway I think you should pop along to bed. You can tell your young man all about your adventures. To make up perhaps you’d like to visit our local hospital with me in morning? Just doing my lady of the manor act. Good Night."

Next morning Helen rolled up in the Rolls. Cynthia was persuaded to dress up in a rather elegant silk full-length dress and the two went to the local cottage hospital Helen carrying a wicker basket over her arm.

Cynthia was quite surprised when Matron met them at the entrance. They walked on a tour of inspection, Helen stopping to speak to practically all the patients, asking after a grandson here, a wife there. Small gifts were left with many, a half bottle of scotch here, some pipe tobacco there, the latter was frowned on by matron but nothing was said.

Then they arrived at the male orthopedic ward where they stopped and talked to an old man who had broken his leg in the first bed. They stepped up to the next bed wherein lay one of the injured motorcyclists from the previous night. He blanched as he caught sight of Cynthia. Matron described how he had been found by the side of the road just beyond the hump back bridge. He blanched even more when Helen mentioned to him sweetly, "Oh you must be one of the boys who was following me last night." "You weren’t, not out ridden by a girl, fucking hell we’ll never live it down." "I was and now I must see to your comforts." She turned to Matron. "I was talking to Mummy last night and she’s going to see that the committee approves the new nurses’ home. We thought to lay the foundation stone in four weeks time if that’s convenient?" Matron’s face lit up. "What do you think of our young men who arrived last night?" "I am rather displeased with them, someone might well have been hurt and I would so hate it to be one of the tenants. Do you think they might be better served with a little peace and quiet? Perhaps in the old secure ward?" "But there’s no television or radio, but yes I think I see what you mean." "I thought to ask the Rev. Kingsley to visit them each day and lead them in prayer for their souls." "Yes a bit of quiet reflection would do them no harm at all. Perhaps Nurse Hoskins could look after them, if anyone can save their souls I’m sure she could." Matron looked back at the entourage at a plump middle aged West Indian lady. "Martha would you mind taking these gentlemen in hand? I think a bland diet would be best, and no telephone trolley, magazines or anything to get them excited. Possibly a little bible reading each day until they have fully recovered? I think we have a couple of broken femurs so no doubt those patients will be with us for the next year or so." "Wot a bleeding wog to tend to us what ‘s wrong wiv the blonde bit of crumpet then?" "Certainly Matron, I suspect these may well have been the very same who caused me to lose the contents of my shopping cart in the precinct. May I use the injectable vitamin C on them since I’m sure it will aid their recovery and they are looking rather ashen at the moment?" "Now remember any problems at all just send word up to the manor and I’ll have a couple of grooms come down and sort them out. Quite upset they were about one of our tenants being put upon".

Cynthia then turned to a young blonde nurse who had been looking after the patients until now. "How is your brother constable Bell?" "Very well my lady" she replied with a small curtsey. "Perhaps he could take his tape measure out and see if there was any evidence of speeding?" "Oh I’m sure he could do that for me" with a significant look at the bed of one of the patients. "And since he mentioned Sergeant Watson found some irregularities in one set of papers I’m sure my brother would be interested in examining the others." Groans came forth from the beds. Cynthia handed the blonde nurse some invitations to the hunt ball for the following week just in case any of the nurses wanted to come along.

And there gentle reader we must leave our Demons in distress and your imagination will have to fill in the blanks. Cynthia of course lives happily ever after, spoiled rotten by Nigel.