For S x

My head sits spinning in front of him. My mouth he sees as grinning spokes twirling manically as it clicks round in ecstasy. My hair has become blurred in the frenzy and resembles to him the slick rubber of tyres, chafing between his fingers. He reaches out and grabs my handlebar arms, delirium in his eyes, clasping my fingers together, streamlining me. I feel my body murmur with shudders as his eyes scan over me. I can feel him mentally razoring off my curves, resenting my hips jutting out cumbersome from my frame. As I crunch my eyes shut I will them away, wishing my body cold, taut, lithe for him. He pedals through me and I try to catch him. But he doesn’t see me. Just my head rotating in front of him, faster, faster.