Harry pulled up and checked the kilometre gauge on his bike. 'Forty kilometres', he muttered to himself. 'By the time I reach my destination I will be...clocking nearly fifty'. With that he had a drink and pushed off. The track was in the bush, running beside the rail line; the station was just a short distance away. He had to cross at the station because a fence separated the track from the line, a train had just pulled away as he crossed the track and while he paused a woman was walking down. She had read what I said, passed a few comments, asked more questions. Some of what she said reflected her own lack of confidence: did it matter that she was a little younger than I? Would I find her mature enough? Most of what she said led me to believe she was a most articulate and caring individual, not some mad person who wanted to flay me alive. She liked to be in control, she said. To have a girl serve her. Sounded good to me. Present I checked in and discovered she was not there yet. I. More

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