Chloe's Return Pt. 01

This story continues Chloe's timeline from "Riding With Dirty Girls," and "Chloe Rides Again." You can probably get something out of the sex scenes in isolation, but for background, you probably need to have read the other series' first.

This is a work of fiction. A figment of the author's imagination. It is not meant to be big on realism. It's a fantasy. The culture around world-class women's cycling probably isn't a hotbed of lesbian lust, but wouldn't it be fun if it were?

All characters are fictitious, and any that are involved in sexual activities are over 18.

***

Chloe's Return (or La Vuelta de Chloe)

The taxi dropped me outside Licia's house and I rang the bell. My heart was thumping as I saw her silhouette approaching through the stained glass side-panel by her front door, then there she was, wearing that beaming, nose-wrinkling, somehow mischievous grin. We loudly sang 'Bay-, Bay-, -bee' at each other, as we sometimes did. A reference to a Cranberries song, "When You're Gone," It was a favourite of ours, and just one of our little jolly japes.

I threw my arms round her and she winced. 'Careful, I'm still a bit delicate.'

'Oops, sorry. I forgot. How is it now?'

'Getting much better. I did half an hour on the turbo-trainer yesterday. I know it's not like being out on the road but it's a step forward.'

'Yeh, step by step. Keep going babe, you'll get there.'

'Come in, come in.'

She tried to take one of my bags with her good arm, but I said 'No way. You need to be careful. You put the kettle on and I'll take these upstairs. I have some news for you.'

'Oo, OK. Keeping me in suspenders, are you?'

'Every chance I get...' I grinned, and dragged my bags up to the bedroom.

I dumped them in front of the wardrobe and looked around. We'd had so many good times in this room. Fun times, hot and horny times, romantic times. I was so happy to be back.

I went downstairs with a silly smile on my face and went into the kitchen to collect my tea. 'So, what's your news?' she said.

'First things first,' I said, and I turned her head towards me for a kiss. A sublime, Licia kiss. Which I'd been missing sorely. God, I love kissing her. Perhaps only Helen comes close to a Licia kiss. 'Mmm, you're such a good kisser, babe,' I said, licking my lips, and she chuckled.

'News, Chloe. I'm on tenterhooks...'

'Well... I phoned Robbie when I was in the taxi...' She looked at me expectantly. 'I'm on the team for the Vuelta Feminina.'

'Woow, big-time stuff... '

'I know... a year ago, I had no ambitions beyond 'cross, but now I'm in a grand tour. I don't know if I'm up to it, really.'

'Course you are. You said that about the classics, and look what you did there.'

'Thanks Liss, you always big me up, but it's a big step up, really. I need to tell Molly. Would you mind if I called her?'

'Don't be daft. Go ahead.'

We sat on one of Licia's sofas and I found Molly in my contacts and pressed the call button. There was a little blip in my heart when I heard her voice. 'Hi, Chloe.'

'I'm in the Vuelta, Mol.' I blurted.

'Excellent. I was hoping you would go for it. It's the right choice, Chloe. The logical next step in your career.' Licia was eavesdropping and nodding. 'Do you know the rest of your team?'

'Yeh. Similar to the classics; Tera, Helen, Marlen, Selina, Trude, but not Mia, she's replaced by -- wait for it -- Zara Visto. She's finally back from that big crash last year.'

Molly hmphed... 'I hope they haven't put her straight back in as team leader. Nobody knows where her form is yet, and I think she's past her best, anyway.'

'Well they have, yeh. Jointly with Tera. They are the big hopes for GC.' (GC is the General Classification -- the overall title -- based purely on time.) 'They don't think I'm ready for a GC bid yet. They are hoping I can go for a mountain stage win, but Zara is one of the best climbers in the world, so I'm not so confident of that.'

'Chloe, you have to believe in yourself. I think YOU might be one of the best climbers in the world, even though you haven't really been tested on a big mountain yet. Visto is almost as old as me -- she's over the hill, and there's no telling what that crash has done to her. I'll be amazed if she ever gets back to her old level.'

'Don't forget Tera, either,' I said. 'She's no mean climber herself.'

'No, but I think they'll be pinning their hopes on her winning the time trial more than anything, but that's another stage where you could spring a surprise.'

It was great to have Molly's unwavering belief in me, but the Vuelta really was a big step up for me. In truth, despite my recent successes, I was a raw novice; I'd never ridden a time-trial at World Tour level, never raced up a big mountain, and never done 7 consecutive competitive days before. There were A LOT of unknowns. Maybe that's why I was looking forward to it so much.

I had less than four days with Licia before I had to fly to Santiago de Compostela, and I was determined to make the most of them. Of course there was going to be sex, and lots of it, but I had to be careful not to exhaust myself, and I needed to do some light training, just to keep my legs awake.

Licia had been waiting patiently while I was talking to Molly, but as soon as I ended the call, she stood up and held out her hand to me. 'I'm dying for you babe. Come to bed.'

Oh, God. Is there anything better than being taken to bed? I mean, going to bed for sex is always a thrill, but to be TAKEN to bed... it does something special to me.

We were already undressing before we got into the bedroom, and we got completely naked apart from our modest jewellery before we crawled onto her bed.

Oh, it was sublime. We'd been apart for over 3 weeks, and I'd had some wonderful sex with others in that time; with "clit hero" Pam, with Aimée, with Trude, with Marianne, and of course with my lovely Molly, but it was still something special to come home to Licia.

Her wonderfully fleshy, hairy pussy, her startlingly firm boobs, those dreamy thighs -- like a muscular vice clamping my head -- and her amazing long tongue, finding places inside me that no other tongue can, teasing orgasm after orgasm out of me.

Our sex was torrid and wild, but also powerfully affectionate and emotional. After the initial rush was over, we lay facing each other, kissing, with our hips twisted sideways, so that we could spread our legs and gently finger each other to final, shivery little orgasms. Oohh.

We dozed, fitfully, but then hunger roused us and we went downstairs and called out for takeaway, which we ate sat on the sofa, carelessly wrapped only partially in our dressing gowns, and laughing at a frivolous panel show. It was good to be home.

The next day, I borrowed one of Licia's bikes and rode a gentle 60km circuit up to the Sally Gap and back, just a nice outing to keep the riding machine active.

It was a nice steady climb, followed by an exhilarating descent, and I revelled in how good my legs were, and how at home I felt on the bike.

As I danced on the pedals up a steeper rise in the road, I reflected on how right everything was in my world. I was a young, fit, relatively wealthy pro cyclist -- 'I ride a bike for a living,' as Helen would sometimes say with an incredulous grin -- with fantastic friends, a wonderful girlfriend, and a sex life that most people could only dream of. It was something to savour and at least TRY to fully appreciate.

This was a beautiful ride, filled with good vibes. The only thing missing was Licia and her shapely bum and legs pedalling along in front of me. I came back flooded with arcadian endorphins, and immediately said to her, 'Get your glad rags on babe, I'm taking you out for dinner.'

'Oo, great, where are we going?'

'You're the local, you can choose.'

'Let's go to Muffy's, I haven't taken you there yet, have I?'

'No, don't think so.'

'It's a great place. Lesbian run, and the food's fantastic.'

She was right; it was a great place, and the food was delish, but with reservations... I had steak and Guinness "pie" but I felt I had to tell them that a bowl of pie filling - however good - with a disc of puff pastry slapped on top is NOT a pie.

Licia and I (from Yorkshire and Lancashire respectively) educated Muffy on what a pie is, and I said, 'I'll be back, but next time I expect a PROPER pie...' She seemed to take it well.

We embarked on another tour of the pubs of Temple Bar, which was maybe unwise with Stage 1 of the Vuelta only 3 days away, but I felt like letting my hair down a little, so I did. The first stage was only a short team time trial, anyway.

We went to bed a bit squiffy, and in the morning I woke up with a slight headache. I knew it wouldn't last though, they never do. I left Licia still zzzing and went down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Always my first thought when I wake up, unless a beautiful French girl is making me a bowl of coffee that is.

I drank three glasses of water while I was waiting for the kettle to boil -- must banish the dehydration -- and then returned to the bedroom with two mugs of Yorkshire Tea (of course she had Yorkshire Tea) and a couple of slices of toast... Crumbs in the bed. Oh no!

'Oo, brekkie in bed,' she giggled, peeping from under the duvet. 'You're girlfriend material, you are...'

'I pulled a wry face. 'It's not my animal magnetism that you love then? Just brekkie in bed. Huh.'

She took a sip. 'Mm, you're good at making a brew too...'

I got back into bed beside her. 'So, have you anything planned for me today?'

'Yes, I thought I'd introduce you to Lisa at the gym.'

'Oh, right, yeh.'

'I've told her you're coming. She seemed excited.'

'Really? I wonder what she's expecting...'

'Oh, she knows who you are. She's checked you out on YouTube.'

'Yeh, but I mean what is she expecting to happen?

'Well she knows we have an open kind of relationship, and she knows we have had threesomes, so I think she'll be expecting us to fuck her, don't you?' She looked at me with one eyebrow raised.

'Ha! Trust you Liss. I think you're probably right though. From what you tell me, she's grabbed her lezzy libido with both hands and is trying to wring every drip of juice from it.'

'I like the imagery... and yes, she is...' I was looking forward to meeting Lisa.

We had a lovely lazy morning, and didn't have sex, which was not easy -- she makes me so hot -- then after lunch we crossed the road to Curves, the women-only gym.

Licia had deliberately timed our visit for 2 o'clock, just half an hour before the lunch break, when they would close for an hour and a half. She's cunning, my girlfriend.

She signed me in as a guest and we went to find Lisa, and found her talking to a slightly overweight woman with huge breasts, who was towelling herself after her workout. She was the only other person in there. And the two of them made a mad contrast; the busty woman all flesh and exaggerated curves, and Lisa small and skinny, with her tiny bum like two polecats in a bag, as Licia had described it.

Licia was greeted with a 'Heeey,,' by Lisa, and the other woman departed to the showers.

'Catch you later, Lise.'

'Hi Lisa, this is my girlfriend, Chloe.' Licia introduced me, and I gave her a grin as I held my hand out.

She took my hand and pulled me towards her for a cheek kiss. 'Great to finally meet you Chloe. You're a lucky cow, snagging this one.' She gestured at Licia. 'God I was so fecked off when I found out she was taken.'

'I think I'm the lucky one,' said Licia. 'D'you know, she brought me brekkie in bed this morning.'

I could tell Lisa was eyeing us with a touch of envy. 'Must be nice, waking up together...'

'You need to find yourself a girlfriend, Lisa, then you can do it too,' said Licia.

'Oh aye, I'm on the lookout now - now that I'm out -- but would you believe that there's not a single gay woman among the whole membership of this feckin gym club, apart from Licia?'

'You need to cast your net a bit wider Lise. Get down to the Spinster party at Bad Bob's Rooftop in Temple Bar. It's a lesbian bash, every month. Get yourself dolled up and walk in there and you'll have 'em queuing up. I'll come with you first time if you want.'

'Wow, that'd be grand...' she beamed.

I thought Licia was right. Lisa was small and a little too skinny for my taste, really, but she was smiley and cute and I was sure lots of lesbian girls would think she was very desirable indeed.

'So, Licia tells me that you are really enjoying being out. Making the most of it.'

'Yes I am, and thank you for having such an open relationship. It might never have happened otherwise. I think it's fantastic what you two have. Licia tells me there's a group of "free girls" on the pro cycling tour, and that you have lots of sex. How awesome is that? God almighty, it turns me on so much just to think about it... Threesomes and everything... That's so feckin hot.'

It is, actually. Want to try it? We're willing if you are.'

She looked at me wide-eyed. 'Oh my God, really?' We nodded.

She looked at the clock. 'Lunchtime's in 15 minutes...'

'Wow, you're keen, eh?' Licia grinned. 'Yeh, OK, come over the road to my place, Number 7. It's more comfy than the store room,' she grinned. 'Might as well do it in luxury, eh?'

Lisa was like a rabbit in headlights. 'Oh my GOD...' she murmured.

We returned to Licia's house and started getting ready. It was very exciting, preparing for a premeditated troika like this, and we felt like sexual predators as we dolled ourselves up in lingerie, with stockings and suspenders. She certainly wouldn't be expecting what she'd get when she rang the doorbell, that's for sure.

She arrived just after 2:30, and we put on our short dressing gowns and went to the door. We daringly left our gowns loose and stood close together as we opened the door. Her jaw almost hit the doorstep, and her eyes were like saucers as we stepped aside and beckoned her in with curling fingers, like proper lesbian vamps.

She looked at us and breathed 'Fuck,' then she, somewhat unexpectedly, burst into semi-hysterical laughter... 'Oh, this is so COOL! I can barely believe it.'

We took her up to the bedroom and began undressing her; trainers, socks, trackster bottoms, Curves branded sweatshirt and polo shirt, practical navy blue knickers and bra, and finally the band holding her ponytail, leaving her as naked as nature intended. In fact, more so, because her pussy was shaved completely bald.

We sat her on the bed, stood in front of her and dropped our gowns. We were both in black lacy bras and pants, with matching stockings and suspenders and, even though I say it myself, we were bloody sexy.

She looked very alluring, sitting there naked, leaning back on her arms, with her surprisingly perky little breasts, and nipples pointing to the ceiling. Her wavy blonde hair, though obviously not natural, looked lovely, cascading over her shoulders with just a hint of curl.

My pussy was going zing zing as I looked at her. Skinny or not, she was still fucking hot, and I was really looking forward to this. I could tell she was too.

'When I got up this morning and started getting dressed for work, I'd never have dreamed that id end up here at lunchtime, in bed with two red-hot lesbians.'

'Come here and take our undies off,' said Licia, and Lisa got up and came close to us. She came to me first, probably because I was new and exciting. Our eyes locked and she reached around me to unhook my bra. I pushed my head forward and we shared a short kiss. Teeth bared and tongue-heavy. Very salacious. Then she dropped to her knees and pulled down my knickers -- worn over my suspenders of course.

'Mmm,' she murmured, giving my mons a quick kiss, then she stood up and moved to Licia. She repeated what she'd done with me, exactly, and Licia looked at me with a fruity smile.

God, this was so horny. There's something extra special about introducing a new lesbian to the myriad pleasures of sapphic sex, especially one as fervidly enthusiastic as Lisa.

She knelt at our feet, put her arms round both of us, and squeezed us to her with her head sandwiched between our pussies. 'Oh fuck, this turns me on so much. There should be a mental health warning on lesbian sex. It makes me crazy.'

'OK, what's your favourite thing so far about lesbian sex?' I asked her.

'So far? Oohhh, I love the face sitting. Love it when Licia queens me. Really love it... Oh and the tongue-fucking. That tongue of hers... my GOD.'

'Oh I know all about that,' I smirked. 'How d'you fancy both at once?'

'Ohh, jayzus feckin christ.. '

'Get on the feckin bed,' I said, mimicking her Irish cursing, and she did so with an excited little chuckle. I straddled her and walked up to her face on my knees as she tucked her arms between my legs.

'Oh, I love your pubes, Chloe. They're perfect. Love Licia's too. I'm gonna grow mine back. I've decided.'

I smirked. 'OK, less gabbling, more gobbling,' and I pointed at my pussy with both hands.

'Ooh...' She gazed, a little cross-eyed, then looked up at me and said, 'Spread your lips for me,' and I teased them apart, showing her my petals and my hard little bud.

'Ohh... She breathed, a little trembly, then she closed her eyes, lifted her head and kissed me, right on the lips, her nose pressing my clit like a start button.

'Ohh...' It was my turn to give a trembly little sigh. 'That's gorgeous, Lisa. Kiss me again.' She did so, with great relish, and I watched her, feeling my pussy's passion surge in response as her lips sucked gently on mine. A juicy surge of lust and desire.

'Ohh...' She gave a little start as Licia's tongue slipped into her, and my own pussy surged again as I imagined the feeling of that tongue, invading her most secret place, driving in deeply, until Licia's nose was squished between the bare flesh of her fubsy lips, then curling up, tantalisingly close to her spot.

I shuddered, caught between the feeling of Lisa's hungry mouth on my lips, and my wild, libidinous imagining of what Licia's tongue was doing to her. A simply divine combination.

She seemed to be enjoying my pussy, so I moved forward slightly and sank down fully on her face, pressing her down into the duvet with my syrupy wetness. She groaned - I'm sure with pleasure -- and I just settled down to enjoy the feeling of her mouth and tongue working feverishly. I held onto the headboard and squirmed slightly as I lost myself in the sublime pleasure of riding her eager face.

Soon, we were all making tell-tale sounds of sexual bliss; Lisa's muffled moans from between my legs, as she gorged on my juicy little jewel, Licia's lusty grunts as she tongue-fucked Lisa's pussy, determinedly, and my own involuntary little yelps as my orgasm began to overtake me irresistibly. Is there anything better than this?

Lisa thinks not. We shuffled roles, and she loved it all; 'This is so feckin hot. I never dreamed...'

When she sat on my face, I was thrilled by the oily, slippery wetness of her bare pussy, and her sapid, salty, muskiness. She had a very strong and piquant flavour, perhaps a result of her extreme arousal, and I found it literally gorgeous, especially with Licia's amazing tongue plundering my own well of love honey.

Lisa's orgasms were like outbursts of extreme joy: 'Oh, fuck, yes. Ah, Yes. Ah Ah, Yes. YES... YEESSS!' It was gratifying to bring that joy to her.

I think we would have gone on all afternoon, but she had to get back and reopen the gym. 'Can I come over again tomorrow?' she asked.

Licia and I looked at each other and smirked. 'OK,' we shrugged.

***

La Vuelta a España Femenina

I escaped the torrid troika on Saturday morning, when Licia drove me to the airport, still wincing slightly each time she turned the steering wheel, and I flew to Santiago de Compostela in the far northwest of Spain.

I took a taxi to the team hotel and reacquainted myself with my team mates, including the charismatic Italian, Zara Visto. There was something about her. Even more than Tera, she had an aura. Her illustrious palmarès gave her an almost unassailable status.

She was unquestionably attractive, too, with luxuriant, glossy black hair, big dark eyes and amazing long eyelashes, which almost looked like she was wearing mascara even when she wasn't.

She had a shapely compactness about her. Quite short, with full thighs and smallish breasts that refused to be ignored. I thought it was a real shame that she was straight, because I definitely would.

At her peak, she was capable of winning anything, but a severe crash 12 months before had left her with multiple injuries, some of them life-threatening, and no-one really knew whether she was close to regaining her old form. Her place on the team (as co-leader no less) was purely on the strength of past glories and, as always, the road would decide whether it was justified or not.

We were not regarded as the strongest team. That status would go to Amstel-Rabo, who had Lucy van Barle, Olga Avonova, Pam Clitheroe, and Suzy Goethe, all riders who were currently in good form. It was a good thing. It would keep the focus off us a little, and would perhaps ensure that they did much of the work on later stages, especially if they took the leaders red jersey early in the race. That looked quite likely too, since the first stage was a short team time trial, and they were the strong favourites.

Let me deal with the "Grand Tour" question right from the start. There are only three grand tours in world cycling. The men's tours of Italy, France, and Spain -- the Giro, Tour, and Vuelta. Each of them is three weeks (21 stages) long, and that length is regarded as a requirement for grand tour status. If any of them were to be reduced to (say) two weeks, there would be voices from the armchair saying "Bah, it's not a grand tour if it's not three weeks long."

As an aside, those names all have subtly different meanings; Giro in Italian can mean a lap, or a circuit, but "in giro" means "on a trip" or "riding around." Tour in French can also mean a lap, but it can mean a turning, or even a revolution, and in Spanish, Vuelta has a similar translation, but can also mean a return, or a reprise.

Anyway, nowadays, each of these grand tours has a sister race - a women's race -- held completely separately, and these are often loosely referred to as the women's grand tours, but they are only one week long (usually 7 or 8 stages) so they are not grand tours at all, really. They are the closest we have though, and they do carry a lot of status and kudos, despite their relatively short length.

Personally, I'd love to have a go at a full three-week tour, but there are so many forces at work against women's cycling that I'm not sure I'll ever get the chance. One week would have to do for now. It was time to get ready for our Vuelta.

***

Stage 1: Santiago. Team Time Trial. 16km.

Santiago, the destination of the world famous pilgrimage route, the Camino de Santiago, was a great place to start the race, and the stage start and finish was in the main square, right in front of the super-imposing cathedral. A fantastic setting.

On Saturday evening, there was a huge team presentation, with interviews, on a huge stage in front of the floodlit facade, which gave me a touch of imposter syndrome. It felt like a huge event, and way beyond what I'd experienced so far, even in the classics.

I was one of three riders in our team who was picked on to do a short interview, and I was asked what my ambitions were for the race - stages or GC. I stuck to the official team line and said I'd try to win a stage, but secretly I also had GC ambitions. Why not? I knew I could climb with the best, and Molly thought I could time-trial too, and that's where stage races are won and lost.

Tera and Zara were cagey and wouldn't be drawn on who was team leader, but it was assumed they'd both be trying to win the overall GC.

I'm not a fan of all these glitzy showbiz elements of big road races, but I have to admit, the setting was spectacular, and it certainly added a sense of occasion. I even had a touch of butterflies.

The next day, the square was a different place; the floodlights had been replaced by a dazzling Spanish sun (though it was actually quite cold) the stage was gone, and in its place was a wide start ramp and, nearby, a finish gantry.

A multi-coloured melee of teams, journalists, officials, and TV cameras were milling about. A queue of riders was forming to submit bikes for pre-race checks, and I was ducking and diving to get signed on without being buttonholed by journalists.

Robbie and Gabi had given us a pep talk and made sure we were comfortable with the TTT strategy; to start off doing equal turns on the front but then modify if needed as riders weaken. Something that could only really be decided on the fly.

Although there were 7 in a team, the minimum number to finish together was 4 and, in any case, the time would be taken on the fourth rider to cross the line. It was not unusual for teams to lose riders on route, as the pace would be brutally hard on a short course like this. "All blood and snot," as someone once described it.

We were all quite nervous, I think. Especially me. I'd never ridden a team time trial before and although I understood how it worked, I had no idea how it would feel in practice.

We were scheduled to start second to last, with just Amstel-Rabo behind us. And we had to endure what seemed an age, waiting for our turn. However, I knew that, for a flat out 16km effort, I would need a good warm up, so I spent much of the wait pedalling on rollers, making sure I was good and ready.

Eventually we were called to the start, and we rolled up and assembled on the ramp, 7 abreast, ready to go.

I hated the time trial bike. I know they are more aero, and have been proven to be significantly faster, but to me it just felt an ungainly, uncomfortable, unstable contraption. I just had to hope that these legs of mine could make it go fast.

We got the start countdown, and rolled down the ramp, all struggling to turn the pedals until we could get the big gear up to speed. The gearing on TT bikes is super high, especially for a flat course like this, and it would take a lot of sustained power to keep that gear turning. Our top speed would be well up in the high 50s (km per hour).

We were soon in our stride, with Zara taking first turn, followed by Tera, then me. Marlen, Selina, Trude, and Helen, all rotated through like clockwork and by the halfway time check we were 5 seconds up on Team Veloviewer, who had started ahead of us.

Surprisingly, even though we'd never ridden together as a team before, we were like a well-oiled machine. I wasn't even finding it all that hard.

Next time I was on the front, I injected a little more pace, and on one of the long double-backs where the course went up one side of a dual-carriageway road, round a roundabout then back down the other side, we could see Veloviewer and we could tell we were gaining. The team was still together, with everybody doing their turns. It was looking good.

As is often the case with city centre time trials, the course was ridiculously contrived and contorted, with way too many tight corners. Our max speed may have been 55 -- 58 km per hour, but the average would probably be less than 50 due to the number of times we needed to accelerate back up to speed from tight u-turns.

It wouldn't be a problem -- it was the same for everyone after all -- but it had rained overnight, and some places were still greasy, so those roundabouts were treacherous.

We were gaining on Veloviewer and didn't see Amstel-Rabo yet, so we were looking good, but then, on the approach to a roundabout, we lost Helen. We were at top speed, heads down until the last moment, then we sat up and braked, and that's when Helen went down. She lost the front wheel and hit the deck hard. Selina was next behind her, and only super-quick reflexes enabled her to avoid hitting Helen as she fell.

The remaining six of us rounded the turn and I looked across to see Helen, a crumpled heap against the barrier. It looked bad. Oh no, Helen.

We had no choice but to press on, but my focus was shattered. Obviously, we were all concerned about Helen, but I felt it particularly keenly. I couldn't get my head back together, and just a little bit of impetus went out of our pursuit of Veloviewer.

As we entered the final kilometre, Selina was dropped, and Trude was struggling to take her turn, only just managing to stay in Marlen's wheel as we sprinted into the square to the finish.

The five of us crossed the line just 4 seconds faster than Veloviewer, but we didn't even get the chance to sit in "the hot seat" before Amstel-Rabo roared in. All 7 of them still together, and 27 seconds faster than us. Our time was a rapid 19.25, but they had broken the 19 minute "barrier". Their average speed was 50.5 kilometres per hour, which was impressive and a little scary.

Second place was OK, I suppose, but all I was bothered about was what had happened to Helen. I refused to give interviews until we had some news, and a little while later, we saw her rolling across the line, battered and bruised, but still alive and kicking. Phew.

I went to her for a gentle hug, and Debbie and I made sure she got some first aid. Her injuries were just scrapes and bruises, but she had lost some skin and, as I knew all too well, these "superficial" injuries could be extremely painful.

Lucy appeared, looking concerned, and Debbie and I left them in the first aid tent, as the nurse fussed around, with creams, and pads and dressings. I was reminded of that time in the showers with Lucy after the Troyes cyclocross race.

I refused to go onto the podium until a patched-up Helen joined us. She was part of the team, after all.

Dinner at the hotel was a little subdued. Helen's injuries cast a cloud over us because we didn't know if she'd be able to start the next day, and although we were 2nd -- a good result -- the gap was seen as surprisingly big and ominous. Amstel-Rabo were obviously on top form.

There wasn't much socialising that night, as we had an early bus transfer in the morning, to Ponferrada -- 200km away -- for the midday start of stage 2. Everyone just concentrated on refuelling then getting an early night.

As so often, I was sharing with Helen, and I'm always happy with that. We've had some wonderful and torrid times together, but this time she was obviously feeling pretty beaten up and she went upstairs around 9pm. I stayed downstairs, socialising with the team for a while, but then I felt the need to follow her.

Even though sex was not going to be on the agenda, I just felt the need to show my concern and make sure she was OK.

She was lying in bed, looking at her phone, reviewing the coverage of the stage, and we talked as I started undressing ready for bed. 'It looked a bad crash, didn't it?' she said.

'Yes. I was worried about you.'

'I don't know what happened. Perhaps a damp patch on the road or something. I braked, and then I was on the ground, sliding. I hit the barrier hard -- with a bang -- and I thought I had hurt myself bad, but then I started moving and all my limbs seemed to work...' she chuckled ruefully, then looked pensive again. 'So, I got up and carried on.' Teams flew past me all the way to the end, but I had to finish.'

'You're a tough cookie Helen,' I said as I climbed into bed.

'Morning will tell how tough I am,' she brooded.

'Get some sleep Helen. Tomorrow can wait for now.'

I clicked off the light and settled down to sleep, but after a minute or two I heard a sniffle from Helen. I couldn't leave her like that. I just couldn't.

I got up, moved across, and got into bed with her.

'Chloe?'

'Shh'

She was laying on her side -- obviously the less injured side - with her back to me, and I spooned up to her back and put my arm around her, trying to avoid any tender places. I moved her hair and kissed her neck, and she sighed and snuggled back against me.

And that's how we slept. I couldn't offer her anything, apart from my empathy and affection, but that was enough. We disappeared into the healing arms of Morpheus.

***

Stage 2: Ponferrada-Benavente. 140km / 1200m of climbing.

The alarm woke us rudely, and we both groaned, though Helen undoubtedly had more cause than I did. I got up to go for a pee, and when I came back she was sat on the edge of the bed. I looked at her. 'How are you?'

'Not too bad. I will carry on.'

'Attagirl. Come on, let's grab some brekkie."

We were happy with the situation on GC; Amstel-Rabo obviously occupied the first 7 places, with Lucy (who had been first across the line) taking the first red leader's jersey. But then we had Tera in 8th, Zara in 9th, and me in 10th. It was a good start, even though the time gap was bigger than we would have liked.

The bus ride to Ponferrada was painless, and spent my time topping up my fuel level (as if breakfast hadn't been enough) and exchanging messages with Licia and Molly.

Licia had no plans to join me in Spain, but Molly had. She was intending to fly out to see the final mountain stage in Asturias, which would finish on the infamous Angliru; the toughest, steepest climb in all of professional cycling, and never used in the women's Vuelta before.

Accessing any stage on the Angliru is notoriously difficult due to its popularity, and spectators usually have to get there at least a day before, but Molly has friends in high places in cycling and she had arranged a lift in one of the Protime Femmes team cars, which would take her up to the top just ahead of the race.

Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. That was 6 days away, and there were a lot of kilometres to cover before we'd be tackling the fearsome 24% slopes of the Angliru.

We rolled into Ponferrada, and immediately set about preparing for the start. It was dry and sunny, with the temperature somewhere in the mid 20s, so there would be no issues with cold or rain. It was a short skinsuit, fingerless gloves, and dark glasses day. The kind I love.

This stage was described as "moderate mountain," and basically conisted of a long gentle climb at a steady 5% to a mountain pass, followed by a 90 kilometre gradual descent through Astorga to the finish. It promised to be one of those dull grand tour stages where the peloton rides tempo all day, then works up to a frantic bunch sprint at the end.

A breakaway might provide some interest (will they survive, or won't they?) but basically, it was all waiting for the sprint.

We didn't really have a sprinter in our team. I mean, Tera and I can both sprint but, with GC ambitions, Tera was expected to keep her powder dry, and it wasn't the kind of stage I thought I could win from a breakaway. It looked like a stage for us to just sit tight in the bunch. The first mountain top test would be tomorrow.

As we assembled for the neutralised start, I found myself next to Esther Cruyff of Team Pro-Fast, and I couldn't help noticing her hands as she gripped the bars. She had fingerless racing gloves on, but her nails were beautifully painted in a lustrous shade of red, and she had big silver rings on almost every finger. They were very sexy hands.

'Wow, I love your nails, Es. They're gorge,' I said. Some straight women don't appreciate getting compliments from lesbians, but she obviously wasn't one of those women.

'Thanks,' she beamed, showing off her adorable dimples and startling blue eyes. I also noticed her thick blonde plait hanging over her shoulder. She was a honey. I love a bit of glamour in women's cycling.

We rolled out, and immediately after the flag fell at km 0, the attacks started. Eventually, a dozen riders got away up the road, predictably including the usual suspects Franka Stellner and Inga van Touren, and our own Selina Busto.

The rest of us just ticked along steadily, enjoying the sunshine and the companionship. I love riding in a bunch of girls; the easy chatter in dulcet tones, the glimpses of long hair, tucked away or flowing in plaits or ponytails, the occasional waft of perfume, and the slight jiggling of fleshy feminine legs and bums over bumps. We may be professional athletes, lean and mean, but we are still girls.

I spotted Helen up ahead, her unmistakeably impressive bum and legs, her untameable mane of strawberry blonde hair, and the unfortunate clean white bandage on her left elbow. I moved up to come alongside her, and said, 'Hey, how're you feeling?'

'Oh, not bad, now I'm warmed up. I'm feeling OK.' She gave me a sidelong glance and a brave little grin. Aww, lovely Helen.

We kept a comfortable tempo to to the top of the pass, and then started the long descent. After the initial few kilometres of downhill to Astorga, the gradient was almost imperceptible, and the bunch was kerb to kerb, gliding along like a flock of birds.

We were having a nice time, not like a race at all, but the break's lead went to 3 minutes, then 4, and it became obvious we'd have to step it up if we wanted to catch them by the finish.

However, we had no team ambitions, and with Selina in the break we weren't going to do the chasing. It would be up to other teams. It took them a while to get themselves organised and decide they DID want to chase, but eventually the pursuit creaked into action.

Initially, the chief protagonists were Protime-Femmes, working for their sprinters, Marieke Vox, and Mae Snijders (yes, Molly's Mae). As momentum built, other teams joined in, and soon we were reeling in the break at the rate of a minute every 5km. With 30km to go, they couldn't possibly survive, and the group began to fall apart as they tried in vain to keep us at bay. We swept them up one by one as we approached Benavente.

Franka and Inga were the last survivors, and they made a brave attempt to work together and hold us off, but they were two, and we were 122. We swept them up with 10km to go, and the peloton began the build up to its full-cry finale.

We roared into Benavente at 60 kilometres per hour, and I just concentrated on staying in the main bunch and keeping out of trouble as the sprinters fought it out for victory.

For the record, the stage was won by Jude Choon of the USA, with Ariana Tollsen of Norway 2nd, and 19-year-old Mae third (still knocking on the door). Behind them, the peloton arrived complete, and there were absolutely no changes in the GC standings. It was a day off for the likes of me, to be honest.

There was no rest for the wicked though. Straight after the podium etc we were on the move again. The next stage was way down south and we had to get on the bus to drive to Valladolid (about an 80 minute drive) then jump on a plane which would take us to Granada.

Transfers by air are a bone of contention in grand tours, and many riders would like to see them disappear completely. It would be possible in a three-week race, but with only 7 days, if you want to cover a lot of the country the gaps between stages are just too big, so we are stuck with them for now. We would do two stages in the south, then fly north again for the final three days.

It was when we were on the bus, on the way to Valladolid, that Debbie came and unexpectedly leaned over the back of my seat. 'Oh, hi Debbie, I smiled.'

'How are your legs, Chloe?' she murmured quietly. 'No cramp today?' She knew full well that I hardly ever got cramp. She was just being mischievous.

'Er, no, they're fine, thanks.'

'No need for a massage then?' I looked up at her, and her face was a picture if impish naughtiness.

'No, but I might benefit from one tomorrow after the Sierra Nevada.'

'Well, just give me a shout if you want the full benefit of my expertise.' She licked her top lip in an unmistakeably suggestive way and I felt my libido stir.

I knew from my encounter with her after the Liege-Bastogne-Liege race that there was a lot of potential for some fun with Debbie, but I didn't really expect this. Here she was, unashamedly flirting with me. I found it quite exciting, and it got even better.

She lowered her voice even more and leaned further over my seat, bringing her tits distractingly close to my face as I turned and bent my head back to look at her. 'Listen Chloe, I know there are some girls on this tour -- on this TEAM -- that are up for some sexy fun, and none more so than you...' So, my reputation had preceded me -- again. 'I'm always up for a little playtime...' she continued, '... and I'd love to play with you sometime, if you're game.' Well, she couldn't be plainer than that, could she?

She looked at me with smouldering "fuck me' eyes, and the suggestion sent dancing electrons straight to my clit.

What to do? Say yes please, or play it cool? Maybe even a little hard to get?... 'Yes please,' I said with my customary grin.

Obviously nothing was going to happen right then, we were almost at Valladolid airport, and when we got to Granada, it would be straight to the team hotel for dinner. It was a very tantalising prospect for the future though. God, I was horny now.

At dinner it was a contest between which hunger was consuming me the most. My alimental hunger, or my elemental, sexual hunger. I had no idea what Debbie's room arrangements were, but I knew mine. I looked at the ever-lovely Helen and I wondered...

After I'd finished refuelling myself, and people were leaving the table, I went to sit next to her. I shuffled close and whispered in her ear. 'Helen my dear... would you be up for a little pussy eating, if I'm gentle?

(To be continued)