Notes of a Rider’s Wife

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1

Dusk had just fallen, and in the last crimson-gold rays of the setting sun, the row of identical pastel ranch houses which jutted up from the flat Indiana prairie seemed to be bursting into flames. In spite of the rosy glow, the air grew chill, almost forbidding, as the thin September sun sank beyond the horizon. High above the level plain a clamorous flock of blackbirds hovered for an instant in the darkening sky, then suddenly turned and vanished toward the south.

"Winter's coming at last ..." the slender blonde girl murmured to herself, shivering and drawing her lightweight red cardigan tightly around her scantily clad body as a chill breeze rustled through the meadow. With a dispirited sigh, she turned away from the bubbling creek and started trudging back toward the subdivision houses silhouetted against the evening skyline.

Indian Summer had stretched on for so long that Cindy Miller had almost dared to hope that the cold and snow would never really arrive. This would be the first time the Florida born and raised young wife had ever spent in the north, and although she'd not let her husband know how she felt, she'd been dreading the winter ever since he'd told her they were settling permanently in the Midwest.

I know Mike says that northern Indiana's the only place in the country where his darned old Cycle Circus can really get off the ground, she thought rebelliously, but what does he expect me to do all winter long while he's away on his stupid tours? I just wish he'd let me come with him like I used to or get a normal job where he wouldn't have to leave me by myself all the time ...

Kicking angrily at a pebble as she stepped from the overgrown field onto the concrete sidewalk of the brand new subdivision which bore the optimistic name of Lakeview Estates, the long-legged blonde tried to prevent herself from falling into a state of morbid depression. More and more often in these past few months, she'd been plagued by uncontrollable moods of frustration and uncertainty. Sometimes, she wondered what had happened to the starry-eyed optimist who'd been foolish enough to believe that marriage to a handsome motorcycle stunt rider meant living happily ever after, just like in the fairy tales and romance novels. It grew more and more difficult to recall the joyous sense of freedom she'd felt less than a year ago when, after the marriage ceremony in her father's Florida parish, she and Mike had set off on his big motorcycle for his home in Indiana.

As the shapely honey-blonde rounded the corner to Lemon Lane where the Millers' two-bedroom house was located, her dismal thoughts were momentarily diverted by a group of junior high school boys racing by on their bicycles. The moment the youngsters spotted the attractive nineteen year old in her skimpy white shorts and tight red sweater, they squealed to a halt and circled around to stare after Cindy's tautly rounded buttocks wriggling in unintentional invitation and at her long, classically-sculpted legs. One of the youths, braver than the others, let out a loud wolf whistle which brought a bright red flush of embarrassment to the young housewife's face.

Quickening her pace - an action which had the unfortunate result of making her rounded hips undulate even more provocatively than before - Cindy hurried down Lemon Lane and into her own front yard. Instead of making a careful inspection of the wealth of flowers and bushes which transformed the Miller's quarter acre into a little oasis of color among the barren plots of crabgrass which were the general rule in Lakeview Estates, the red-faced blonde hastened into her white frame house.

Although the air was really quite cool now that night had fallen, the svelte young wife did not close the open living room windows. The blush which had begun on her cheeks seemed to have spread throughout her entire body, making her feel unaccountably warm.

They're just a bunch of silly kids, she told herself firmly, but deep inside, the innately honest girl could not deny that she'd been flattered by the young boys' obvious admiration. It seemed so long, so very, very long, since her husband had complimented her on her appearance.

"He was so different before we were married," she thought, her thoughts drifting to the whirlwind courtship which had been the talk of Collinsville, Florida. "Now he just seems to take me for granted ... when I see him, that is ..."

Her low, plaintive voice echoed eerily in the empty house, and Cindy clamped her lips shut and vowed once again to curtail the bad habit she'd been developing lately of talking to herself. What on earth would people think if they knew that she wandered around babbling to herself like a senile old maid?

"They'd think I'm stark, raving mad!" she murmured, realizing as the words left her lips that she'd broken her vow within seconds of having made it. "Well, maybe I am then!" she shrugged. "And if I am, it's all Mike's fault for leaving me alone like this while he's off with his stupid motorcycles!"

Without bothering to switch on the electricity, the unhappy young woman made her way down the short hallway to the master bedroom. By now it was pitch-black outside, but the street light out on the parkway cast its rays into the small room and illuminated the king-sized bed, brand new dressing table and bureaus with an almost surreal radiance that suited Cindy's morbid mood just perfectly. As she crossed over toward the closet to dig out the wool slacks and sweaters her husband had bought her, her eyes caught the color photograph of Mike that stood in a prominent position on her dressing table. Whenever he was gone for long stretches, the lonely wife always removed the wedding picture from the album and brought it in here so that she could look at it before she went to sleep, a habit that had started one dreadful day when she'd realized she could no longer conjure up an image of his face.

Now, as she'd done so many times before, Cindy stood staring at the handsome, sun-bronzed man in the photo. His deep blue eyes seemed to stare directly back at her, and she felt an urge to push the lock of wavy chestnut hair off his forehead.

Though the young bridegroom was unsmiling, she could tell from the faint suggestion of a dimple in his strong jaw that he was not unhappy, merely embarrassed at having to pose in his wedding clothes when he really only felt comfortable in jeans and a motorcycle helmet. Even the rented tuxedo, however, could not conceal his healthy, masculine physique, and as Cindy gazed at her husband's muscular figure she felt a familiar rush of pride.

Then, as she remembered that Mike was miles away in Kansas with the Cycle

Circus, the smile that was starting to form on her lips faded to a worried frown. What was the good of having a handsome husband when you never saw him? And when he was surrounded by plenty of cute girls all day long, his good looks really became a liability rather than an asset. In the early months of their marriage, Cindy had often accompanied her husband on his tours, and she'd had plenty of opportunity to observe the other girls who hung out around the cycle tracks. Most of them, the worried young wife felt certain, wouldn't hesitate to chase after the show's handsome star whether or not he happened to be married. And Mike ... would Mike be able to resist their attentions ... would he even try to ...?

"I won't keep thinking those things about him!" she told herself firmly. "I won't be a jealous wife."

But try as she might, the suspicions remained in the back of her mind, even as she attempted to push away the fearful imaginary vision of her chestnut-haired husband standing beside some peroxide blonde in a low- cut blouse, his strong arm draped around her bare shoulders and his warm lips mashed against her lipstick-smeared mouth. Even though the picture was pure fantasy, Cindy's slender body began to shake in anger and she had to bite her knuckles to keep from bursting into tears.

After a moment, when she'd gotten a hold on her emotions, the golden- haired girl tore herself away from Mike's picture and moved in the direction of the closet.

There, still in the shop's cardboard boxes, were all the new winter clothes her husband had bought for her - fluffy sweaters, woolen slacks, a few dresses in brighthued cashmere-like fabrics, a shiny pair of leather boots, and even a nightgown and a pair of furry red angora slippers with a matching robe. For a moment Cindy felt sincerely guilt-stricken for the unproven doubts she'd been feeling.

"Mike's so good to me. I don't know what's wrong with me, why I'm so unhappy," she pondered aloud as she lifted each of the brand new garments from their wrappings. "I never had nice stuff like this before I met him - I ought to be grateful."

Deciding that trying on her new winter wardrobe would distract her from her gloomy fantasies, the young blonde pulled off her cardigan sweater and snug-fitting cotton halter top. Then, as her fingers sought the zipper of her skintight white shorts, her mind slipped back to the day when her tall, dark-haired husband had come home with the trunk loaded down with packages for her.

"Here you go, baby," he'd boomed in his usual hearty tone. "A few goodies to keep you snug and warm while I'm not around to warm your bed up this winter!"

She'd come to the back door, she remembered now, dressed only in the sheerest of sundresses, a strapless affair actually intended to be worn over a bikini, but which she'd thrown on that morning because of the truly suffocating heat. Since it was only eleven in the morning and she'd not expected Mike to come back until evening, she'd not even bothered to don her brassiere and panties before tackling the chore of unpacking the last of their things which had just arrived from Florida.

Her husband's habitual enthusiasm irritated her that morning - he had no more sensitivity to the sticky Midwest heat than he apparently had to the icy winters – and his vulgar words only added fuel to the fire. While she'd certainly been agonizing about the dreaded lonely winter months which she was supposed to spend alone in

Lakeview Estates while her new husband toured the southern circuit, the crude way he spoke brought a crimson color to her already heat-flush cheeks.

"What are you going on about, anyway?" she demanded, too flustered to remember at first that she was as good as naked in the sheer beach dress.

"Hey, baby, I like that get-up!" Mike whistled, his glinting blue eyes boring into her body in a way that made his nineteen year old wife feel sordid and dirty. "How come you never wore this pretty little see- through number before?"

"Mike, I wish you wouldn't talk to me like that!" Cindy said stiffly, folding her arms to hide her proud, high-set young breasts and wishing that she had four arms instead of two so that she could cover up her shamefully revealed vaginal hair as well. "What are you doing back here now, anyway? I thought you were going over to talk with Benjamin? You said you both had to talk to the lawyer about the contract for the circus ..."

"Hey, don't get uptight, baby," Mike laughed, still in his usual high spirits despite his wife's unenthusiastic response. "Benjamin was - uh - occupied with his wife. So I just thought I'd run up to Gary and pick up some things for you. After all, I don't want folks to think I'm neglecting my woman just because I'm gonna be gone most of the winter. I want you to look real a la mode, baby!"

Cindy knew that she should be pleased that Mike had thought to expand her exclusively summer wardrobe, but all she could feel was irritation. Ever since her husband had informed her one month ago that they would be permanently settling in northern Indiana, she'd tried her best to put the news out of her mind. Of course, she understood that this was an ideal home base for Mike's Cycle Circus - he'd grown up in the area and had good contacts, particularly his high school friend, Benjamin