A Divine Puncture

"Any chance of a lift?"

Lisa was struggling with the wheel nut when the stranger approached her. She could do this. She was not a helpless woman. She looked up.

A young man stood, smiling. Shining hair, baggy shorts, sun-tanned, warm eyes. Backpacker of some sort. Greek if she had to guess.

"Not at the moment. I'm changing a tyre." As if it wasn't obvious.

"Bummer," the backpacker said. "If I help you, could you give me a lift?"

Lisa went back to the wheel nut. You heard all these stories about taking hitchhikers in and the risks. An act of kindness and then before you know it, you've been cut up into pieces, bunged in a suitcase and thrown in a river, never to be heard of again.

It was a bit of a cheek too, wasn't it, thinking that she needed help? She was sure that she could do it and her pride reared up at the hint of being thought helpless, aided by natural stubbornness which didn't want her to give in.

Lisa wasn't a rude person but part of her didn't want to engage, to encourage him in any way, although, she speculated, turning her back to him probably wasn't a good move either if he had malign intent. But wouldn't he have attacked by now? she reasoned. She decided to put all of her efforts into solving her problem for herself and so, ignoring the stranger, she continued with her battle with the wheel.

While she grunted and sweated, muttering "This bloody wheel nut" under her breath and urging it telepathically to loosen, the stranger stood calmly, waiting. His face was open, guileless. Occasionally, a wry smile left a trace on his lips.

Suddenly, Lisa leapt to her feet and threw down the wrench with a noisy clatter.

"Nothing gives, huh?" the stranger said and bent, reaching for the wrench. Holding it, he took off his backpack, his arms flexing with the movement. Such strong arms, Lisa thought. A waft of sandalwood greeted her nostrils and helped her to concede defeat. He crouched down and got to work on the wheel nut. No words said, no mention of the lift. He just dedicated himself to the task. No grunting, just powerful controlled twists that made it seem like the wheel nut was submitting willingly as if beguiled by the stranger's persistent attention or his magic touch.

As she watched, Lisa became mesmerised with his fluidity, the smooth strokes of his strength. It was like watching a craftsman in total control of what he was doing and administering to his art with care and thoughtfulness. She contrasted it with the sweaty, irritable mess that she had been minutes ago and felt embarrassed at how she must have appeared to this man.

It was this revelation that suddenly made her blurt:

"I'll give you a lift."

He turned to her and smiled. "Thanks," he said brightly, and he continued with his balletic wheel removal.

It didn't take long. Strangely, Lisa felt no self-consciousness at standing and watching him. It felt the most comfortable thing in the world. There was something harmonious about his presence that made her feel like her edges were less, like life was less sharp. She could feel her shoulders slacken and her teeth unclench. She had been thinking only moments before about what an inauspicious start to her day this puncture had been and now, she found that she was glad it had happened, feeling less hassled that she had done in weeks.

The job was done and he lowered the car down again, his hands not even showing signs of his exertions.

"Thank you," she said and the stranger gave her a smile so radiant that she could have warmed her hands on it.

"You're welcome," he said, picking his backpack up again from the floor.

She watched as he walked to the other side of the car. The sun was shining on his hair, making it a brazen gold. She didn't usually like blonds, she found herself thinking.

"Is it okay to put this in the boot?" he asked, holding up his backpack.

"Of course," she said and moved towards the rear of the car to open it for him. She was suddenly struck by a need to be closer to him. She was glad she was giving him a lift, she realised. She wanted to sit close to him, side-by-side; she hoped that he needed to go a long distance so that she could spend time with him. She had another waft of sandalwood and was struck by an impulse to bury her nose against her chest and breathe him in, all of him. The sensation shocked her and she stepped back as he gracefully lay out his pack in the back of her car and slammed down the door.

Lisa felt mildly unsettled. Slightly cynical and viewing the world with glasses very much grey-tinted rather than rose, she was being exposed to something of which she had very little experience - pure animal attraction. It was surfacing from within her where it had been latent, just waiting for the opportunity where her natural personality dampeners would ease their repressive pressure to allow it to seep out. It would appear that the scent of sandalwood, the offer of help and strong arms were the materials needed to lift this girl from a place of emotional restraint.

Lisa went to the driver's side, her heart beating more quickly than when she was coercing a very uncooperative wheel nut.

The passenger door opened and she watched as the stranger climbed in and settled himself into the seat of her car.

She spoke, her voice inadvertently husky. The words were cheesy as she said them but she found that she wanted to say them just the same, the implied meaning being something of which she wanted this stranger to be aware.

"Where do you want to go?"

He turned to her and smiled again, holding her gaze with his warm, brown eyes. Instead of answering her question, he held out his hand and said, "First, what's your name?"

Strangely, she wasn't sure that she wanted to tell him, as there seemed to be an intensity to his request, in the way that he was looking directly at her. No malice but she felt like she might become more in his thrall than she currently was and whilst this excited her, it also made her feel vulnerable. But how do you avoid that? Give him a false name? Tell him you don't want to tell him? This man's presence was making her feel ridiculous.

She looked down at his hand. She wanted to feel that skin so badly. She remembered his prowess with the wheel, how easy he had made it look, all that manly power, contained within and expressed by those hands...

She reached and felt the coolness of his skin on hers and felt a frisson, barely suppressed. She looked back at his face, his eyes still intently gazing at her, a small smile on his lips.

"Lisa," she said softly and hoped that he wouldn't drop her hand quickly or shake it like they were doing a business deal.

"The nearest town, please," he said, and Lisa felt a palpable shift in mood as practicality reasserted itself over love's attraction. She was giving the man a lift. There was nothing more to this connection than one stranger helping another. She felt instantly stupid, dropped her eyes to his hand and went to pull her hand away from it, only to find hers held fast; not tightly but just insistently so by her strange passenger.

She was about to say, "If you want driving there, you better give me my hand back" but before she could blurt that out, the stranger spoke again and once more, sandalwood drifted into her senses and she was conscious of his proximity as he said, "Don't you want to know my name?"

She looked back at his face, again showing warmth and humour. Did he know that he was disarming her? She was starting to feel a little out of control and didn't like it one bit. But she also knew that once she dropped this man off in Glastonbury, she might never have this feeling again and part of her, the animal attraction that had managed after all this time to emerge, was reluctant to let it go. That attraction - pheromones, magnetism, call it what you will - was in league with the sandalwood and was having a fine old time entwining itself around nature's scent like a purring cat around a pair of legs.

She did want to know his name. Yes, she did. She wanted to know it and she wanted to mutter it in his ear as his hands slid over her, his fingertips exploring her while she entwined her hands in his hair with her eyes closed in ecstasy and her breath coming in short, harsh gasps of unadulterated climatic pleasure.

Heat suffused her cheeks as this thought usurped any other.

She managed a very breathy "Yes" and as she said this, he took his thumb and rubbed it very gently in a circle on the top of her hand.

"It's Apollo," he said.

"Apollo," she repeated as he continued to move his thumb with measured pressure on her hand, her eyes focused totally on his beautiful open face.

She would. Right now. At the side of the road. If he asked her. The realisation of this made her poke out her tongue just a little to lick her lips. His eyes drifted to her mouth and his mouth obligingly reciprocated her provocation with a sexy smile.

He couldn't be, could he? A realisation hit Lisa as she was held captive by this strange attraction. She almost didn't want to say it because it sounded so absurd and yet it would explain everything and so, she said it out loud, knowing that it would make a ludicrously intense situation even more so by its utterance.

"Like the god."

And his smile broadened beatifically, even divinely.

***

To be continued...?