Maddy's New World Pt. 06

This series is a sequel to "Maddy on the Move," so it might be best to read that series first, to get some background. It's the latest in a suite of stories about horny lesbian cyclists, which began with "Riding with Dirty Girls."

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.

***

Maddy's New World Pt. 06

Scotland had its grumpy face on as I drove north from the airport to my flat in Kirkdalry. The rain was coming down in unbroken sheets, the headlights were on, and the wipers were going ten to the dozen but struggling to clear the deluge. The gloom felt like doom.

Somewhere on the Admiralty Road, my little van ploughed into standing water, sending an even bigger deluge cascading over the windscreen, and I instinctively braked. Just as well. A stationary car suddenly appeared, and I only just managed to stop before crashing into it.

The car had obviously conked out after ploughing into the water, and it was just sitting there, in the middle of the flood, with no lights on, and nobody inside. They must have gone to get help.

The car was a hazard, just sitting there in the half-light, but there wasn't much I could do about it, so I drove around it and continued, slowly, through the flood and on towards home.

My trusty little Kangoo was still fine, despite running into the flood, and soon I was pulling onto the parking place outside my flat. The rain was still dingin' down, drumming on the roof of the van, so I made preparations before tackling the open staircase to my first floor door.

I struggled into my emergency cagoule that I always keep in the pocket on the back of the passenger seat, put on my Trek cap, and made sure my door key was in my hand and ready.

3-2-1, I jumped out, slammed the door, and sprinted up the stairs, dodging a waterfall where the gutter was overflowing, got my key in the lock, and stumbled inside. Phew.

From the shelter of the doorway, I peered out at the van, pressed the the locking button on the key fob and made sure the indicators gave their little "I'm locked" flash, then retreated inside. Unloading the bike could wait until the downpour had played itself out.

I picked up half a dozen letters that were lying on the mat, then went straight into the kitchen and put the kettle on. I was home.

While I was waiting for the kettle to boil, I sent Isy a text message. Despite the wonders of Switzerland, Anna, and everything that had happened over the previous couple of weeks, I'd missed her.

'Hi Iss, I'm back! Wanna come round for tea later?'

I was just settling on the sofa with a brew when her reply pinged in: 'Aye, that'd be grand. I saw your race. Brilliant Maddy, just brilliant.'

I sent back a smiley face, and a 'See you later.'

Somehow, this time, I had managed to avoid the crushing anguish that departing from Anna had assailed me with the last time. I think, partly because I knew I'd be back with her soon, and partly because our relationship had become more solid, more assured... More calm, perhaps.

That's not to say it was cooling. Not at all, it had just moved onto a new, deeper level, and I felt more serene about it.

I'd also managed to focus on the positive aspects of coming back to Scotland; my trusty little van, my cosy flat, visiting Ma and Da, and seeing Isy again.

It was remarkable how our relationship had changed recently. We'd always been close, ever since we were kids, but we were like most cousins -- just like very close friends, I suppose.

Then there was that night at Christmas in the Diver Inn, when our previously unrecognised lesbian tendencies had converged, and a chemical reaction had occurred.

Now, our kinship had taken on another layer - like icing on a cake. We were still close cousins, and the best of friends, but we were now something more. Not a couple -- that would be a little weird -- but more than friends with benefits. It was a unique relationship, really.

Anyhoo, I was very excited that she was coming round for tea, and looking forward so much to seeing her.

I started searching the kitchen, to see what I had and what I could make, and I was a little challenged on the ingredients front. I had no meat or fish, apart from what was in the freezer, and it was too late to defrost that, really (I hate stuff that's been defrosted in the microwave).

So, I settled for making a good old macaroni cheese. I was almost tempted to attempt älplermagronen, but I wasn't sure I had everything I needed. I decided I would leave that until I'd had a bit more guidance from Anna.

I didn't even have a lot of cheese, but I supplemented it with a sachet of supermarket four-cheese sauce, in lieu of the yoghurt or cream in the recipe.

I combined everything; butter, flour, milk, grated Scottish Cheddar cheese, cheese sauce, and a blob of English mustard, and conjured up a very nice sauce, if I say so myself.

While waiting for the pasta to boil, I stood licking the wooden spoon clean with great relish, then got a dessert spoon and had another spoonful, just to be absolutely certain it was scrumptious.

I combined it all in an oven dish, topped it with packet grated cheese and some breadcrumbs for crunchiness, then slammed it in the oven. Job done.

Isy arrived, with a mac draped over her head, and I ushered her in and shut the rain out again.

'Bloody stottin out there,' she said (a Scots word for raining very heavily).

I took her wet mac from her and hung it up and she slipped off her jacket. She handed me a nice bottle of red, which I took through into the kitchen.

She followed me and then, finally, I turned and we embraced. 'Oh, I've missed you.' I said.

'Same. S'been a bit dull the last coupla weeks to be honest...'

I gave her a sympathetic look.

'How's Anna?' she said. 'She really took a hold a that race, didn't she?

'Aye, she was flying.' I grinned.

'I loved those little replays when she touched you on the bum, specially the one when you stuck your tongues out. So funny.'

'Yeh, we had fun,' I beamed.

'So, what're we eating? It smells lovely and cheesy.'

'Yep. Macaroni cheese.'

'Oo, greaat, I love that.'

'With Scottish Cheddar, of course.'

'Of course.'

We ate, and the Valdepeñas Reserva she'd brought was the perfect compliment. It was a cheese and wine fest.

I thought about the dull couple of weeks she'd had, and I asked her the obvious question. 'So what about your love-life, Isy? Is there anything on the horizon?'

'Noo, not really. I have a mate at work, Jemma, who's single, and says she's "bi," but ah don't really fancy her, y'know?'

I nodded.

'She's fine, and we have a laugh, but neither of us has made any moves... I don't really get "bi," either. Once I made the step across, I never really thought of having one foot in each camp, y'know?'

'Oh, yes, do I know.'

'I think "bi" (she made air quotes each time she said it) just means, either you haven't really made your mind up, or you're just the kind of person that will shag anything, y'know?'

I cackled. 'Oh, I'm right with you on that one, Iss. For me, making the step was a revelation. An epiphany, almost. Suddenly, looking back, the other side just looked dystopian. I certainly wasn't leaving one of my feet over there.'

We chuckled, like the insufferably jubilant new lesbians we were.

She fixed me with an earnest eye. 'So, playtimes, or no? Is it still on, Maddy, or no?'

'Oh aye, I think so.' I told her about the foursome in Neuchâtel, and that Anna had said she wanted to try it again sometime. 'I think the three of us, you, me, and Anna, are bound to get together at some point. It's inevitable, I'd say.'

'D'you really think so?'

'Yeah, she's bound to come here again and, well, how would we resist it?'

'Woow, that would be awesome. Anna is HOT... I was watching her in the race... Muscles, but feminine muscles. What a fab combination.'

'Yeh, it is.' I grinned.

'Imagine me, fucking my cousin AND her girlfriend. What a pervy combination. What have you got me into, Maddy?'

'What I'VE got you into? I think you might have played a small part in it... Remember the peeing in the bath? What've YOU, got ME into?'

She chuckled. 'Yeh, that was just pure debauchery, wasn't it?'

'Yeah, just shocking,' I said, with a wry smile. 'Shocking and wrong.'

'Horrible.'

'Disgusting.'

'And pure dead fucking brilliant!'

We dissolved into a fit of cackling.

'More wine?' she said, already pouring it.

'Hm, plying me with drink are ye?'

'Do I need to?'

'Indeed not,' I said sipping it and gazing at her over the glass.

'Does Anna know that we..."play?" she asked.

'No, ah haven't told her yet...' I pulled a guilty expression. 'It's not something I'll keep secret from her though. I think she's open minded enough to handle it.'

'Ah certainly hope so. I'm quite fancying that threesome now.'

'Oh, I wish she were here now. We could have a fantastic time.' I stared into space, wistfully.

'You've really fallen for her, haven't you?'

I nodded.

'You saw her just this morning at the airport, but you already miss her somethin awful, don't you?'

I nodded. Tears weren't far away. I swallowed, hard.

She took my hand. 'It's beautiful to fall for someone like that. I know it can hurt like hell, but you're very lucky if it happens to you. I hope it happens to me one day.'

'I hope so too, Iss. You deserve it.' We stretched our necks across the table to kiss.

'Oh, I love you, Maddy. You're like a bright star in ma life, y'know?'

'And I love you, Iss. You're like ma rock in a turbulent sea.'

I leaned forward until I could press my forehead to hers and we sat like that for long moments, our four hands clasped together. Intense emotional bonding. A powerful peace swept through me.

Eventually, we separated and I said, 'Shall we retire to the lounge?'

'Let's. That meal was wonderful, Maddy. You must give me your recipe,' she said, as we headed for the living room.

I chuckled. 'Difficult. It was a bit of a "throw-together, really.'

'And accidentally delicious!'

'Aye, turned out OK,' I smiled. 'What I am going to learn to make, is a Swiss version called älplermagronen. Anna introduced me to it and it's delish. Now, she needs to teach me how to make it.'

I flopped on the sofa, while she sat opposite me in an armchair. She was still wearing her work clothes, minus her jacket, and I always think the professional look is hot on her; tailored white shirt, which somehow accentuated her small but perky boobs, above the knee navy blue skirt, pale blue nylons with a slight sheen, and neat block-heel court shoes.

'I love you in your work clothes, Iss. I don't know why, but you look hot with your hair up and your suit on.'

She grinned, 'Really?... So you wouldn't want me to take them off then?' she said, mischievously, while giving me a fruity look.

'Oh, I didn't say that...'

'Or let ma hair down?' She pulled out the two elastics that secured her bun and let her beautiful flaxen hair fall to her shoulders.

'I never said I didn't like it down.'

She leaned back in the armchair and kicked off her heels, then let her legs loll slightly apart, giving me a tantalising glimpse of stocking top.

'Are ye meaning to give me a striptease, or is it accidental?' I said. 'Either way, I'm liking it.'

'Thought you might...' she said with a smirk. She was being deliberately provocative, and I could tell she was enjoying herself. I know I was. 'I KNEW you'd still be up for it, horny bitch that y'are,' she beamed.

Well, I couldn't really deny it. I was almost drooling, watching her.

Now that she knew where we were headed, her confidence rose. She pulled up her skirt and hung one leg over the arm of the chair, giving me a full view of her stockings and the crotch of her white panties, and she put her hands on her thighs with her fingers spread apart alluringly, drawing my attention to her sexy legs, and drawing my gaze upward to her gusset, and the damp patch that was becoming visible there.

'You're being a very naughty girl, Isobel. Did you come here tonight with the intention of seducing me?'

'Of course I did. I've been dreaming of it for days. Saving it up for you.'

'Oo, lucky me.'

'You know, I've been as horny as hell but I haven't masturbated for a week. I hope tonight will make the abstinence worthwhile.'

'Let's make it so.

'Come here and kiss me.'

I got up and went to lean over her, supporting myself on the chair arms, and I gave her an immediately sexual, tongue-laden kiss, making her give a little 'oh' of surprise. I don't think she was expecting it to be quite so lustful.

Her head lolled back against the chair's backrest, and I pressed forward, bringing my knee up against the crotch of her knickers, which felt wonderfully hot and moist.

Her hands slid up my sides, pushing up my tee shirt until she was cupping my bare boobs, and through the kiss she said *Mmph, I love your tits Maddy.'

I whipped the tee shirt off and I moved up further, insinuating my knee between her body and the chair arm until my breasts were over her face, and she took a nipple between her lips and sucked on it, while holding me by the waist.

My nipples were rude and erect, and my areolae were scrumpled tight with my arousal. I love how that feels -- both having them sucked, and when I get to suck an erect, aroused nipple. I knew Isy was loving it.

My tits are not big, but they are nicely plump, and I enjoyed watching Isy pressing her pretty face into them, eyes closed in rapture, and swirling her tongue round and round, making my nipple dance in her mouth.

One of her hands started fumbling with the button of my shorts, and I briefly stood and dropped them and my knickers, and kicked off my slippers as she watched me with a blissful smile.

'Oh, God, I love this,' she said as I returned to my previous position and she resumed her adoration of my boobs.

I ran my fingers through her fine, silky hair and murmured, 'Mmm, my nipples love that. You're sending electricity to my clit...'

'Her hand came up to feel my wet folds and she mumbled into my tit, 'Mm, not just electricity.'

She slipped two fingers into me, curling and spreading them, and raking the borders of my spot like I'd once taught her, a technique that had originated with Molly and had been passed on to Chloe, then to me, and now to Isy. And she was good at it too. She got the angles and the movements of her fingers just right. Teasing and raking my most sensitive flesh, until I could feel an orgasmic dragon rousing itself from its slumber. That glorious sexual ache in the loins.

'Ohh fuuck, Isy... That's... Ooohh.'

She went faster, while still keeping up her avid nipple-lingus, swapping from one to the other and back again, and the orgasmic dragon rose to a prance, making me jerk and shudder.

Little 'oh' and 'uh' sounds escaped my lips, and my hips began rolling and thrusting, working against her hand almost involuntarily.

Between sucking my nipples, she started giving me verbal encouragement, which was totally unnecessary, but very hot. She knows I like a dirty-talking woman.

'Mm, come for me Maddy, I wanna feel your hot juice running down my arm...'

'Uh, uh, uh... Isy... 'oh, oh, oh... Yeh, yeh, yeh... Fuck me... Oh, oh, oh.'

She went faster still, pumping her fingers in and out of my hole, then she reached around me with her other hand and raked her nails down my back...

'Ohh, fuuck...'

The dragon reared, and prepared to breathe fire... And then I was engulfed in a torrid firestorm as the climax exploded.

I held her head tightly to my tit as my body let loose its wild paroxysm, and I jolted and jerked it the throes of a massive sexual release.

The climax stretched out as the movement of her hand changed to a gentle stroking and writhing, bathing in my orgasmic flood. And I bent my head and kissed the top of hers, over and over.

Finally, I calmed, and sat back slightly. Her hand left my pussy and she stretched her arm up in front of me, saying 'Well, I did say I wanted your juice running down my arm... Look at that.'

Her whole forearm was streaked with my creamy cunny honey and I instinctively licked it. She did the same and we shared the bounty until her arm, wrist and hand were completely cleaned. Well, they were still coated in a slick sheen of juicy saliva, but y'know.

I stepped back off the chair and dropped to my knees between her legs; 'Oh my God, look how wet you are!'

The crotch of her panties was absolutely sodden.

'See what you do to me,' she said.

I pulled the elastic away from her abdomen and looked inside, to see her silky blonde pubes and, just below, the gooey strands of her arousal, oozing into her gusset. 'Oh wow, you really are turned on, aren't you?'

Yeh, like I said, I haven't come in a week.'

'Oo, yummy, and I'm going to get ALL the benefit.'

'Yes you are.'

I pulled her knickers down and flung them vaguely towards the washing machine. On another occasion, I might have enjoyed a little panty stuffing -- I quite like having a pair of juicy knickers in my mouth -- but right then I was much too pussy-hungry.

My gaze was fixed on her beautiful blonde pussy, framed by those pale blue hold-ups, and drooling with prurient desire. Could there be anything hotter?

I couldn't resist it, and I crawled up to her and kissed her silky pubes. 'Oh, your pussy is so beautiful... '

She giggled slightly, opened her legs wider and shuffled her bum forward, and I parted her lips and gazed at her. My God, she was so wet. Stringy strands of girl goo adhered to her inner lips, and a little white stream was trickling into her bum crack.

'Oh my, look at that. Have you made all that for me?'

She gave a plaintive little 'Aha.'

I touched her clit with my tongue and she sucked in her breath sharply. ''Is that sensitive?' I asked.

'Mm, but it feels good... Don't stop.'

I scooped up some of her little river -- what Anna calls her "ruisselet" -- and spread that creamy goodness all over her vulva, making the flesh glisten, then I went back to licking her clit.

For a while I concentrated on giving her hot little bean all my attention, and her moans told me she was enjoying it, as I delved into my full repertoire of clit-oral. Her taste was divine. A heady mix of alkaline musk and a hint of acerbic pee. The taste of tea-time pussy. I was loving it.

I teased her pee hole with the tip of my tongue, then gave her clit a couple of flicks from underneath, making her body jolt slightly and bringing a little 'ooh' from her.

My mouth was watering like crazy and by this time, a viscid streak of pussy juice and saliva was trickling down the front of the armchair. Things were getting gloriously messy, and I love messy.

I think one of the great things about two women getting together is the glorious, hot, steamy, lubricious mess. I know all women are not equally wet, and I hear there are some who don't like the mess (!?) but, for me, nothing says great sex like being covered in female sex fluids, and I could tell I was soon going to be. A week without coming? I shivered at the thought of what she had in store for me.

I slipped two fingers into her and started fucking her with them while my tongue continued to party with her lips and clit, and she crossed her legs across my back and pressed me down with them.

Ohh, the pleasure of having her legs wrapped around me, and the feel of the nylon on my skin, as I gorged on her delectable pussy was just heavenly, and my fingers went faster and faster coaxing her up to a sizzling climax. Her legs squeezed my body more tightly, and I felt hot liquid from the very core of her dribbling over my hand.

I made sure her climax was fully over the peak, then I brought my hand to my mouth, to suck and lick all that delicious sex syrup from it. She was still oozing out her ambrosia and I delved down into the crack of her arse to lap up the trickling stream of cream. Mm, yummy.

When I'd slaked my thirst, I moved up to share with her and we kissed, tongue fencing over her delightfully slippery sauce, which had completely taken over my senses.

I looked down at her crisp white shirt, dotted with spots of my drool. She was still partly clothed, with her skirt crumpled up around her waist, and I said, 'Oh dear, look what we've done to your work clothes, Isy.'

'Ah, wheesht, ah have plenty others. I wouldn't ha missed that for the world...' She grabbed me in a fierce hug, and squeezed me tight to her. 'Ah, Maddy... Gotta love ye. Y'always amaze me. Every. Single. Bloody. Time.'

I kissed her neck and whispered in her ear, 'Let's go to bed.'

We went through to the bedroom and I jumped on the bed, then I lay and luxuriously watched her taking off the rest of her clothes; unbuttoning her shirt, and slipping it off, then the bra, revealing her oh-so-perky tits, then unfastening her skirt and dropping it, then finally pushing down her stockings. Her shoes had been discarded long ago, and were carelessly abandoned somewhere in the living room.

She climbed on the bed with me and we smooched, still enjoying the salty residues of our sex in our mouths, and she made a point of licking from my chin, up over the length of my nose, and across my forehead, savouring the lingering taste of her pussy. 'Oh how addictive is this?' she murmured.

Our urgent desires had been slaked, but we now indulged in something more languid, more unhurried. Orgasms were no longer the imperative, though we still had more to enjoy, and we spent a delightful couple of hours, just exploring our desires, our responses, and our affection for each other. A beautiful, sybaritic abandonment to sapphic pleasure. O how I love it.

Sleep eventually claimed us, and we lay close together, our limbs entwined, carelessly only half covered by the duvet.

I woke, hours later, with a little shiver. The bed felt very slightly damp, and the faint aroma of female sex lingered. I looked at Isy, still sleeping, and I pulled the duvet up to our necks.

She stirred, then her bleary, oh-so-pale blue eyes opened, and she smiled. It was a sun-bright morning, but it just got even brighter.

It was after 7:30, and I wondered about her work. 'Morning, beautiful. D'ye have to go to work today (it was a Thursday).

'Aye,' she yawned, 'but I'll go in late. I'm OK until ten. One of the perks of flexi-time. I'll have to nip home to change on the way.'

'Stay there, I'll get you some tea.'

'Oo, lovely,' she beamed, pulling the duvet up to her nose and wiggling her legs like an excited little girl.

I went through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. I put tea bags in the cups then, while waiting for the kettle to boil, I sniffed my finger tips, which still smelled faintly of pussy. I smiled to myself. How wonderfully naughty we were.

An impulse suddenly made me look in the bread bin. Yes! Crumpets. I'd almost forgotten I had them. I stuck four in the toaster and got out the butter.

Five or six minutes later, I returned to the bedroom, bearing a tray with tea and buttered crumpets, and Isy clasped her hands together with glee. 'Woo, crumpets, brilliant. No crumbs in the bed.'

'Aye, that's a bonus, isn't it?' I grinned.

We lay enjoying our breakfast in bed, and we chatted.

'I'm so glad we still have playtime,' she said.

'Yeh, me too.'

'You will tell Anna, won't you?' she probed.

'Yeah, I will, of course. I don't feel guilty about it, and it wouldn't be right to keep it from her, would it?'

'No, I suppose not.' She looked pensive.

'I think it's quite possible to be fully committed to someone, yet still have a little fun with others,' I mused. 'There are a few couples I know that make that work, like Chloe and Licia... Or Molly and Fanny. It doesn't feel like infidelity, somehow.'

'Yeh, I think that's because lesbian sex has a different feel. Of course it can be intense and heavy, and meaningful, but it can also be very light and frivolous.'

'Yeah, at the end of the day, it's pretty inconsequential, isn't it? There needn't be any expectations of commitment, and there are no worries about unwanted pregnancies or anything. It's hitch-free.' I grinned.

'Mm, a totally different vibe. Women understand each other much better. We know what we want, and we know how to get it - and to give it. And we're more sensual. Let's face it, were just bloody better at sex.'

We cackled. She wasn't wrong.

Breakfast over, it was time to get up. 'D'you wanna have a shower before you go?' I asked.

'Noo, I'll have one at home, it's only a short way. I can stand being a stinky skank for a few minutes.'

She dressed in her now rather crumpled clothes, and left her hair down, then went into the living room in search of her shoes. Her knickers were still lying where I'd thrown them and she took one look at them and said, 'I don't think I'll put those back on. Would you wash them for me?'

'Aye, of course, hen. Do you want to borrow a pair?'

'Nay, s'alright, I'll go commando.'

I went to the door with her and gave her a kiss. 'See you soon Mad,' she said, then off she went, clicking down the stairs in those cute block heels.

I returned to the bedroom and stripped the bottom sheet off the bed. I bundled it into the washing machine, then went around the living room picking up other strewn items that needed washing and flinging them towards the machine.

When I got to Isy's still-damp knickers, I picked them up and felt the moist fabric of the gusset, and I couldn't resist holding them to my face and inhaling her. Savouring the leavings of her sexuality. Then, I dragged myself back to the present, bunged them into the machine and set it off.

I grabbed some clean clothes and undies from my bedroom drawers, then went and jumped in the shower.

***

I hadn't much idea of my upcoming programme of races. The team seemed to be playing it by ear, picking my races on the fly and just monitoring my development. Everyone seemed happy with my progress (including me) so I was content to just potter along, training, socialising with friends, eating and sleeping well, and generally keeping myself in top condition for whatever the team wanted me to do.

A few days after returning from Switzerland, I got an unexpected call from Jo-Jo. Normally the team would be notified of the line-up for any races by email. The fact that she was calling me showed she wanted to ask me a question or discuss something with me.

'Hi Jo-Jo.'

'Hello, Maddy. I'm picking the team for the Women's Tour of Britain and you seem an obvious choice, but you said in Neuchâtel that you do not want to do it. Is that right?'

'Yes, I'd rather not.'

'Why?? It's your home race.'

'No, it isn't.'

'Of course it is. You are British. It's the Tour of Britain.'

I'm Scottish. A Tour of Scotland would be my home race, just like the Tour of Romandie is yours.

'Touché,' she said. I could almost see the wry look on her face. 'But what have you got against it?'

'Have you seen the stages? They are really unimaginative. Hardly any worthwhile hills, and every one has a pan flat finish. I don't even think there's much opportunity even for breakaways.'

I was warming to my subject now: 'Britain, especially Scotland, has way better terrain than those stages, but they don't use it. I wouldn't be surprised if a sprinter, like Marieke or Jude, won all four stages and the GC. It'll be a complete damp squib, as usual...'

'Hmm, I think I am getting the feeling you don't like it a lot' said Jo-Jo.

'You could say that.' I was still bristling with my antipathy towards it.

'It sounds like you would prefer to do the Alps Gletchen Classic, which Anna is also doing...'

'What...?' She had caught me completely off-guard. 'Y-y-y-Yes!'

Of course I'd prefer to ride the one day Alpine classic, which ANNA was also doing, and she knew that. She was just winding me up with that bloody Tour of Britain rubbish.

'It's only Women Elite, not World Tour, and only one day, so not so many points...' Did she really think I was bothered about fecking points?

'You called me to offer me the Gletchen, knowing that with Anna doing it I'd snatch your hand off, didn't you? All that stuff about the Tour of Britain was just mischief, wasn't it? '

I heard a faint chuckle at her end.

'You're wicked, Jo-Jo.' I shook my head, as much in wonder as anything else.

'Yes, I was just playing with you, Maddy...' It flashed across my mind that Jo-Jo could play with me anytime she liked.

'The truth is, I offered the Gletchen to Anna as a filler between the Suisse and Le Tour, and she said "Only if you offer it to Maddy, too." You are becoming inseparable, but I've noted what a great team you make, and your little antics on the bikes are bringing a lot of favourable publicity to the team, so it's in our interests to keep you together.'

'Thanks, Jo-Jo.'

'So, the Gletchen, this Sunday. Bus will pick up at Zurich airport from 2pm Saturday.'

'Oh, I think I'll travel with Anna, if that's OK.'

'Yeah, sure, but you'll miss all the team building and camaraderie at dinner.'

'True. I'll see what Anna wants to do.'

'OK. I will send email now..'

5 minutes later, the email pinged in. It was the usual clipped Jo-Jo message:

'Team for Alps Gletchen Classic:

1. Anna Alphubel (Ldr)

2. Maddy MacKenzie

3. Runa Bakkerland

4. Francine Charlet

5. Lorena Jootens

6. Mischa Brückner

Any questions, reply or call me.

Jo-Jo'

So, no Portia this time (shame) but Mischa was another promising youngster from the development team. I didn't know much about her, apart from the fact she was 21 and from Austria. I looked her up on Pro Cycling Stats and found she was, like Portia, a climber, and was very small and light: 1.6 metres tall and 44kg in weight -- almost Maisie small.

I looked up the race and got a bit of a surprise. The course changed each year and it kept getting tougher and tougher. This year was to be the most mountainous yet.

It was as if they were just testing the water each year, to see what they could get away with, and this was a SERIOUSLY hilly route; 164km with 4125m of climbing, taking in three giant passes -- the Sustenpass, Grimselpass, and Furkapass -- each of them over 2000 metres high.

The first two were categorised as HC - "Hors Categorie," "out of category," or "beyond categorisation" -- and the last one would be too, if not for the fact that the route effectively only took in the top half of the climb. This amount of climbing was unprecedented in women's one-day races.

From the summit of Furka Pass, a monstrous 57km descent, dropped 2000 metres to the finish, with the last few kilometres easing to little more than a false flat. Even if you could get away on one of the climbs, it would not be easy to stay clear on this kind of finish.

The toughness of the parcours raised eyebrows in certain quarters, but I was all for it. It was a great way to showcase what women are capable of. Of course, we could ride the same courses as the men really (albeit slightly less fast) but we are still a long way from being given that opportunity. For too long, women have been given unimaginative, mild courses, like those in the Women's Tour of Britain, as if we are incapable of taking on a tough parcours.

Anyway, this race was going to be a tough one and, like the Volute de Ventoux, it was a stand-alone women's race -- another new trend that I was right behind. We are getting there, slowly.

The race started in Altdorf (home of the Swiss legend of William Tell) at the extreme southern end of Lake Lucerne, and headed up the Reuss valley to Wassen. It then did a loop over the three passes, returning to Wassen before the final 25km run back to Altdorf. It was what's known as a "lollipop route," due to the shape it makes on the map.

The name of the race alluded to the fact that the route passes close to no less than a dozen glaciers. All of them would have been clearly visible from the route a few decades ago, but now many have shrunk so much that they can't easily be seen anymore. It's predicted that some of them will soon disappear altogether due to climate change. Such a shame.

While I was pondering on all this, my phone rang. It was Anna: 'Hey, did you get the email? We're racing together again in Switzerland!'

'Yeah, brilliant. Jo-Jo phoned me to offer me a place, but only after she'd wound me up about the Tour of Britain. Bloody minx.'

She laughed. 'Minx?'

'Yeh, it's an old word for a mischievous woman.'

She chuckled again. 'Minx... I like it.'

'Aye, anyway, back in the saddle this Sunday. Have you seen the course? It's a cracker.'

'I have. It looks ermm, challenging. That loop over the three passes is known as "Die Großen Drei" -- the big three. Very popular with motorbikers. It can be bad to cycle sometimes because of them. They make it dangerous.'

Mm, well we won't have any of those to deal with on Sunday, except the ones that are with the race... It's a good course for you and me though.'

'Mmm. Should be...'

'Have you seen a start list?'

'No, but I hear on the Swiss cycling grapevine that Ellen Murren and Linna Strauss are both doing it.'

'Oo, maybe a bit of a three-way Swiss tussle then...?'

'Maybe... Anyway, when are you coming, when are you coming? Book a flight!'

It suddenly occurred to me; I could go anytime. 'I will!' I said, 'I'll text you the details.'

Within an hour, I had booked a Thursday (next day) flight to Zurich, texted the number to Anna, and started packing my case, yet again.

I called Isy, to tell her I was jetting off to Switzerland again, and she said 'Crikey, how the jet set live, eh?'

'Aye, it's a hectic life, alright.'

'D'ye wanna join me for dinner tonight? We could go to Jackie's Grill for a steak or a burger.'

'Just to top up ma protein levels..? Aye, that'd be grand.'

'Pick you up at 7:30.'

Well, we went out to Jackie's Grill, had a couple of brilliant Angus steaks, and got back to my place at around ten. We decided sex was off the table. Isy had work in the morning, and she wasn't in her work clothes, so we just decided to resist the temptation, even though she looked bloody sexy in a willowy summer dress. We gave each other a squeeze, and a couple of little pecks, then I let her go home. There would be other times.

After she'd gone, I finished my packing, and I mused on my relationships, with her and with Anna. I realised that, on this trip, I would have to bring Anna fully up to speed on my sex-life, and that was scary.

Next morning, an early start was needed, and I was outside in the austere misty morning, loading stuff into the van before anyone was awake. I dumped my case and rucksack in the back, then lugged the bike box out of the garage.

I hadn't taken the bike out of the box since my last trip. Of course I'd trained, but I'd used my trusty training bike. The team would provide my race bike, as always, but I thought I needed to take a bike to Anna's, because she was sure to want to do some riding, if not before the race then certainly after.

So, I humped the bike box into the van, and set off to the airport.

There was a kind of sea-fret lying on the Firth as I drove over the bridge, and it was almost ethereal, driving along a sun-bathed bridge in the sky, with nothing below but a dense white mist.

I was happy. I was off to see Anna again, and I couldn't help singing:

"It's not like the moon forgets to shine when I'm not with you

But it feels like it just might

If I just hang around here, promise me you will return

Upon the setting of the sun tonight..."

And then the road descended and I was engulfed in the haar.

It was a slow crawl to the airport, in what had become thick fog, and I wondered if my flight would be delayed because of it but, happily, in the 2 hours before the flight, the fog dissipated and the plane took off on schedule.

The formalities at Zurich airport were painless, and I emerged into Arrivals, scanning eagerly for Anna. There she was, in her baggy purple trousers and a pair of flat sandals, and a black vest top that really showed off her beautifully toned shoulders and her tawny-tanned skin. She had her hair up in a high ponytail, accentuating her finely sculpted face. No makeup, just pure natural beauty, and I felt a breathtaking little zing in my heart as soon as I laid eyes on her.

Beaming grins spread across both our faces as we came together, and I just hoped the sight of me thrilled her like she thrilled me.

We embraced and kissed, and she gave my bum a cheeky little squeeze. Ooer. I liked it. I love it when she gets a little fruity.

I was encumbered with rucksack and draggy case, plus the bike box, and she took the first two from me, leaving me just wheeling the Velo Vault.

As we headed for the car park, she said, 'You know, chérie, coming to get you at the airport is one of my favourite things right now. My heart was singing as I drove here to collect you.'

Oh God. I stopped in my tracks and we embraced again. I held her tight, and we were stationary for a long time as the travelator carried us along. We didn't care a single jot who was looking.

Finally, we separated (luckily before the end of the travelator) and resumed our walk to the car.

'It makes me happy that you can tell me that,' I said. 'Some people would think it was silly, or inconsequential, but it's not. It's lovely, and one of the many things I love about you.'

She smiled, a little shyly.

'I was singing on the way to the airport, too,' I confessed.

We reached the car and made the surprising discovery that the bike box could be fitted in at an angle, so we didn't need to move the seat, and I didn't have to be crushed up against the dashboard. Result!

We set off to Alpispass, and I readied myself for another white-knuckle experience in Anna's ridiculously fast car, but she seemed very laid-back and she drove quite leisurely.

'You seem very chilled,' I remarked.

'Yes, I am.' She looked at me with a little grin. 'I did a hard turbo session when I got up this morning. Only 40 minutes but HARD, so I have endorphins... I also have ma chérie in my car with me, so all is perfect in my world right now.'

I reached over and squeezed her thigh with my hand and OMG, that thigh.

Alpispass, and Anna's house, were just as beautiful as ever, and this time, just for my peace of mind, we remembered to unload the bike box and stow it securely in the garage.

It was lunchtime and Anna had pre-prepared a special Swiss salad, which was marinating in the fridge. It wasn't a green-leaf salad, it had slices of sausage, root vegetables, gherkins and fried onions, all mixed up with what looked like small bits of irregular-shaped pasta, and topped with curly shaved strips of Appenzeller cheese. It incorporated a slightly vinegary dressing and although it sounds a weird combination, it just worked.

'What do you call this? I asked her.

'Well, it's my own invention really. It's a cross between käsespätzle, and wurst-käse salat. The spätzle is the egg pasta, and of course there's sausage and cheese in there.'

Well it might look like "worst-case salad," when written down, but I can tell you it was far from worst-case. 'It's delicious,' I said, tucking in with gusto.

She smiled. 'I'm glad you like it. It's one of my favourite summer lunches.'

'You have to show me how to make it... Älplermagronen, too.'

'Of course.'

We retired to the sofa after we'd eaten, and she showed me a film which featured some of the route we'd be racing on Sunday, which looked unfeasibly spectacular.

'You know the Furkapass was in a James Bond film?' she said.

'Was it?'

'Yes, one of the old ones. 1960s, I think.'

'Well, I wouldn't know. I don't watch James Bond films. Can't stand the character.'

She chuckled. 'No, me either. It made the Furkapass more famous though.'

Although the stuff about the race was interesting, I was slightly distracted because the thought of talking about Isy was preoccupying me. I'd been telling myself I had to get our unconventional relationship out in the open, sooner rather than later, and I was building up to it in my head. But I needed to find a natural opening, to bring it up.

Luckily, she gave me a perfect opportunity by asking me how Isy was, and I said 'Oh she's fine. You really need to meet her again. That really wasn't her, last time.'

'No, I Imagine not. She did have a strong reaction to me though.'

'Aye, she's embarrassed about it now. Anxious to make amends.'

'Ah, I'm sure it will be fine next time.'

'You asked me if we were close, and we are, but there's a little more to it that I have to tell you about.'

'Oh?' she looked intrigued.

'We are... sexually close...'

Her eyebrows went up and her eyes widened. Such dazzling eyes.

'Yes, er... We have a physical relationship...' I stumbled on.

My fear of her reaction put a knot in my stomach and I could feel my cheeks burning.

I really needn't have worried.

'Really? With your cousin?'

I nodded.

She was clearly amazed, though not shocked or scandalised. In fact, there was a hint of a smile on her lips. 'Woww, that's so... bohème.' There was no disapproval there, in fact there was a hint of wonder in her voice.

'Bohème...? Yes, I guess it is.

Just about the last reaction I was expecting from her was to say that fucking my cousin was bohemian, but she wasn't wrong. You could definitely say it was non-conformist and free-spirited.

I continued, 'We were both without partners. I was newly out as a lesbian, and I confided in Isy at a Christmas party. She was curious, and, well, one thing led to another and we went to bed together.

'I mean there were no biological reasons why we shouldn't, not like if we were male and female cousins. Y'know?'

She nodded, and there was definitely the beginnings of a smile now.

'We haven't regretted it at all, and we've had sex together many times since.'

'Oh, you shouldn't regret it Maddy. It is so YOU, Maddy.' She was beaming now. 'It's wild and free and "why not?" What is it you say? "What is the worst that can appen?"

I chuckled. 'I do say that, don't I?'

Oh, I love you for it, chérie. I have often been too cautious. Apart from coming out as a lesbienne, I've lived a very careful life. Now, you are showing me how to embrace life completely, with all the risks, and taking the ups with the downs. With bonds untied.'

Crikey, I'd never seen her quite this animated, and it was wonderful to see. She was almost euphoric.

'I want to embrace it. To be like you. Let's do it right now. Let's fuck right here on the sofa. Free and unbound.'

'Well, if you insist...'

So we did. We dived straight into a tumult of sex. On the sofa, on the floor, on the armchair (an armchair is absolutely perfect for queening) and even in the kitchen.

We had thought it was over, after three orgasms each, and we'd gone into the kitchen to cook. That post sex hunger was on us, but a different kind of hunger got the better of me and I just couldn't resist her pussy. I got on my knees and pushed her back against the kitchen counter. I tugged her shorts down, roughly, and ate her, again, voraciously, like she was some rare ambrosial delicacy. She is.

We had two days before the race, and we made the most of them. We had sex twice each day. Once when we woke up, and again, later in the day, and it was magical.

I can't adequately describe the difference between sex with Isy and sex with Anna. Of course they are physically different - Isy willowy and almost delicate, and Anna much more thewy and athletic -- but it's more than that. It's a feeling. An emotional thing. My romantic love for Anna feels so very different to my familial love for Isy. Both thrill me to my core, but they're quite unalike. Ahh, the mysteries of life and love.

On Friday we did a gentle bike ride and then reprised that mind-blowing experience in the hydromassage shower, and on Saturday, we went out for lunch, then had a wonderful afternoon fuck, full of the flavours of wine, garlic, cherry lipstick and pussy. What could be better?

We had decided not to travel with the team on Saturday afternoon. The start at Altdorf was only about 60km from Anna's house, so it was an easy drive of less than an hour.

Part of me wanted to get together with the girls again, and immerse myself in the team spirit, but that was easily outweighed by spending another day at home with Anna. Who knew domestic bliss could be so seductive?

Race Day.

On Sunday morning, we were up bright and early and breakfasting like queens on Anna's homemade muesli, rich with fruit and honey, followed up by coffee and then she put a plate of pastries on the table ('For extra carbohydrate'). She said they were called "meitschibei," 'which means "girls' legs,"' she chuckled.

'Mm, I like them already,' I said.

They were a curiously elongated U shape, forming two golden-coloured legs, and I could see where the name came from, though they were not nearly as shapely as Anna's legs. I picked one up and, feeling a little naughty, I fixed Anna with a suggestive look, and gently tongued the apex of the U -- what Chloe might have called the "magic V."

'Ooh, you're a very bad girl, Madeleine. Will you do that to me, sometime?'

'Avec plaisir, mademoiselle.'

We giggled. I love it when she uses my full name. It's French, and she likes it. I like Maddy too, so I wouldn't want to give that up, but she knows exactly when it's the right time to use Madeleine.

Anyhoo, the girls' legs were very good. They were made of a dense, sweet, bread, in the form of a tube, and filled with something nutty, and there were plenty, so I had a second one, then a third.

'You seem to like them,' Anna observed with a smirk.

'Ohh, yes, I can never get enough of girls' legs,' I quipped.

We set off to Altdorf, travelling light, with just essentials for the day. Virtually everything would be provided by the team, so we only really needed handbag items like lip balm and sunscreen and, in my case, a couple of buffs for après-race elegance. Plus, of course, we both had a set of racing underwear as well as the everyday stuff we were wearing to travel.

I noticed Anna was driving rather sedately again, which was a pleasant surprise. In fact, she seemed pretty laid-back generally. Her serious head was not on.

'You seem pretty chilled again today, darlin,' I said. 'You haven't got your serious racing head on, have you?'

'No, I'm feeling quite relaxed about this race. It's a perfect parcours for me. Lots of climbing, but none of it steep. Also, the weather is going to be hot, and I seem to be quite resistant to heat. I have a lot of confidence. She glanced at me and smiled. It was good to see her so self-assured.

I was also feeling pretty relaxed. There was no pressure on me, and I had no plans for any crazy attacks or anything. With so much climbing, I expected the strongest riders to naturally rise to the top positions. I just hoped I would be one of them.

I was just looking forward to riding my bike, on a lovely day, in some wonderful places. How exciting.

Even the journey to Altdorf was amazingly scenic, much of it along the shorelines of stunning lakes. First the Zugersee, then a little bit of the Lauerzersee, and finally Lake Lucerne, which is properly called the Vierwaldstättersee in German, or the Lac des Quatre-Cantons in French, both of which mean "lake of the four forest cantons."

The final section, along the lakeside was just mind-bendingly beautiful. I think my mouth must've been hanging open as I gawped at the scenery.

Just before we entered a tunnel, Anna slowed and turned onto a little side road, along the edge of the lake. 'There's a little viewpoint along here I want to show you,' she said. 'We're not supposed to park, but we will only be a minute or two.'

We pulled up next to a picnic table and got out. OMG, it was like a scene from a dream world. The colours were so vivid; the intense cyan of the lake, the lustrous green of the slopes, and the dazzling white of the snow that still survived on some of the peaks.

And it was a crazy cirque of pointy peaks. I remarked on them to Anna, and she started rhyming off all their names. I have failed to memorise them, but I do recall her pointing out the Sustenhorn and saying, 'We will be passing close to there on our bikes in two or three hours.' Gulp.

Altdorf was en-fete for the race, and just like Mutrux in the Tour de Suisse, there was mêlée of buses, cars, people and bikes, and a loudspeaker blaring out information in a mixture of German, French and English.

We were directed to parking on a field with a couple of hundred cars, and then we headed straight for our team bus to get kitted up, collect our bikes etc.

The team greeted us warmly, and we joined in the usual pre-race bustle of getting changed into our racing kits. It was lucky there are no men in our team because there was an awful lot of female skin being flashed as six women all stripped and changed.

I sometimes wonder what happens In teams with male soigneurs or DSs. They must vacate the bus while the girls are changing, surely? I certainly wouldn't be comfortable changing with men on the bus.

Anyhoo, soon we were at sign-on, and I was surprised to see my old mate Abby Stockton. I grabbed her for a hug, then introduced her to Anna, and she rolled her eyes and said, 'Come on, Maddy, I know who Anna is.'

They shook hands anyway, and I said 'I didn't expect to see you here.'

'No it was a last-minute thing. Most of the team are thinking about the Tour, but three of us, Astrid, Toya and me, were given the chance to do this as kind of free-agents. So, instead of working for Lucy or Suzy, we're off the leash for the day. Good, eh?'

'Nice,' I said, so will you not be doing the Tour?' (it was only two weeks away).

'Fingers crossed I'll get selected. Both Lucy and Suzy are going to be there, I think, and I've worked well with Suzy in the past. Hopefully, she'll put a word in for me. Are you going to be there?'

'Oh, I doubt it. There's a lot of competition for places in our team. We've an embarrassment of riches, really.' I glanced at Anna, and she gave me a pensive look.

We parted with 'good lucks' and Anna and I walked back to the bus. We had half an hour to get our cycling shoes on and warm up on rollers, then we would be rolling down to the start.

'Don't put your darkest glasses on today, Maddy,' said Anna, 'There are tunnels on this route and they are scary in dark glasses, especially on the descents.' Good advice.

As we congregated for the start at 11am, it was already HOT - 33 degrees hot -- and the temperature was forecast to reach 37 in the afternoon. Unlike Anna, I don't think I'm especially resistant to heat. Being Scottish, I'm far more cold-resistant than heat-resistant, so I was a little apprehensive about riding over three of Switzerland's biggest passes in thirty-odd degree heat.

Still, there was nothing I could do about it. I just had to see how it went. Plenty of bottles from the team car would be needed.

There was lots of fist bumping required as I encountered Abby again, along with her team mates Astrid Nistrom and Toya Rennser, and a dozen others I had become friendly with, like Cedrine Viseaux! Yes, Cedrine was here and she warranted a hand clasp and a double cheek kiss. That final stage of the Suisse had forged some kind of bond between us, and I couldn't help wondering if we would have the chance to form a duo again. It would be great if we could, but days like the one we'd shared in the Tour de Suisse can rarely be replicated.

We rolled out to km 0 and the pace remained steady as we passed through small outlying villages and commenced the 25km ride out to Wassen, where we would turn onto the climb to Sustenpass.

This was no easy flat ride along a broad valley bottom though. The valley was quite narrow, and the old road wound in and out of side valleys and around steep spurs that the surrounding mountains threw down.

The road also shared the valley with the much newer A2 autobahn, and the famous Gotthard Railway, and the three routes were intimately entwined, crossing and re-crossing each other numerous times via various bridges and tunnels.

The ride out to Wassen was far from flat too, climbing something like 500 metres up the Reuss gorge. Over 25km that's only an average of 2% - little more than a false flat -- but there were some steeper sections and at least one small descent. It definitely felt like we were going uphill overall though.

I was observing all this with interest because this would also be the final run-in at the end of the race, and I wondered what my situation would be by then.

There were no attacks. Obviously no-one was brave enough to take on the three passes alone, or even in a small group, not even the likes of Letizia or Cedrine.

We rode tempo up to Wassen then turned onto the Sustenstrasse and I girded up my loins for some serious work.

Sure enough, the gradient was suddenly 7 or 8%, and there was a collective deep breath from the peloton as everyone tried to find their climbing legs. Happily, I found mine quite quickly and I settled into a nice rhythm, riding side by side with Anna and trying to achieve her smooth cadence.

The first section climbed fairly directly up a side valley, and much of it was in avalanche galleries, designed to protect the road from snow slides in winter. It felt a little weird, but it did provide some welcome shade from the withering sun.

With so much climbing still to do, the name of the game here was energy conservation, and the pace was pretty modest. It was a pace that climbers could easily attack from, but nobody did, which just showed how intimidating the rest of the route was. Everyone was just saving themselves. Conserving. Waiting.

The 2,200 metre summit, with its fine views up to the Sustenhorn and the Stein Glacier, arrived under our wheels almost before I thought we'd done enough to earn it. 'Well,' I thought, 'that wasn't so bad.' One down, two to go.

The descent commenced with a lovely series of hairpins, with long inclines between them, and the sudden breeze was wonderful. We didn't go crazy, but the bunch inevitably strung out into a long line. Anna and I were near the front because we are just naturally at ease with this kind of going.

As well as the hairpins, there were some lovely wiggly sections, where we were snaking through at speed, kissing apexes, and leaning left, right, left, right. I love that feeling.

Lower down, there were some straighter sections where we could adopt a tuck and just let our speed build up to that hedonistic, euphoric rush. Wind roaring past our ears, and tyres hissing over the asphalt and, of course, that asphalt was silky smooth.

We hurtled down into Innertkirchen and there was a sudden cacophony of squealing as we all slammed on the brakes -- a common problem with bike disc brakes -- but as we swept through the village that noise was replaced by the sound of Alpenhorns being played in harmony. An amazingly haunting sound.

There was a open level crossing in the middle of town, but there were no trains this time, and we made a left turn and headed into looming mountains again. The Grimselpass was beckoning.

This was a longer and slightly lower pass than the Sustenpass (2100 metres) and it was thus less steep. It averaged only 5.7%, and even had some flattish sections.

This is how Alpine passes tend to be. They are huge, but the roads are incredibly well-graded, with no really steep gradients. They are nothing like the brutal Spanish climbs found in the Vuelta. Chloe says some of them are like goat paths with rough tarmac laid on them.

We climbed steadily, all comfortably in the saddle, and it was all seeming quite sedate. Not the intense inferno that one-day races can be, and I began wonder when the racing would actually start. I didn't have long to wait.

Somewhere on the climb, we passed the halfway mark of the race, and we had already polished off more than half the climbing. With 7km left to the summit, we reached a flattish section and the climbers were getting fidgety. I saw Cedrine saying something to Letizia, who nodded. Something was afoot.

Sure enough, as the road cranked up again at 7%, the two of them took off, and they were joined by Tara Zanette (a Swiss climber on Team Vista Maxx) and... Abby Stockton. 'Yay,' I thought. 'Go Abby.'

I was itching to join them, but I resisted. This was a brave move but probably doomed to failure. They would get over the Grimsel in the lead, but then they'd have to survive, not only the ascent of the Furka, but also the 50-plus kilometres of descent to Altdorf.

There was no immediate chase, but the pace inevitably stepped up, and people started to hurt. The sun was merciless, there was no shade, and we were reaching the steepest part of the climb, with long stretches at 8 and 9 percent.

I continued to ride with Anna and, surprisingly, I was finding the pace manageable. Perhaps I was more heat-resistant than I thought. Maybe it was due to training the tropics of the Isle of Skye.

Runa was on the front, and the peloton was fragmenting as she set a gruelling pace, with the aim of putting Anna's main rivals, her Swiss compatriots Linna Strauss and Ellen Murren into difficulty. By the top 3km both of them had lost all their domestiques, while Anna still had both Runa and me, and we shared the job of keeping the pace witheringly high, while Anna sat on our wheels.

With 2km left, both of them were pulling horrible faces, and Anna looked at me and I knew immediately what the look meant. She went to the front and upped the pace even more, and I sat behind, amazed that, once again, the whole field was falling apart around us.

1km of Anna's pressure was all it took. On the last kilometre to the summit, Linna then Ellen both cracked. Runa also lost touch with us, her job done, but what a job it was. Chapeau, Runa.

We were clear, and we set about trying to pull back the break. As we crested the summit, Jo-Jo told us the gap to them was just over a minute.

I grabbed the mic in my collar and said, 'What about behind?'

Her reply was almost evilly gleeful: 'Don't worry about them, they're cooked.'

The descent from the Grimsel doesn't begin immediately. There is first a flat section, skirting a picturesque mountain lake called the Totensee, and Anna and I got into team time trial mode, working together and pushing the pace to the limit. It was excruciating, but what a place to work!

After a flat kilometre, the road suddenly plunges down to a place called Gletsch, dropping almost 500 metres in 5km, via a vicious flight of half a dozen hairpins, and we plummeted down, cornering at the limit, and using every inch of road.

Just like with Cedrine in the Tour de Suisse, it was great to share the exhilaration with Anna, and our pace was almost perfectly matched.

At one point I glanced over the side of the road and glimpsed the break, with their little group of motorbikes, descending the last incline down to Gletsch. They looked deceptively close, but we still had four zig-zags to do to reach that point. By the time we got to Gletsch, they were already well onto the climb to Furkapass.

The climb to the Furka is much shorter than the previous two, mainly because Gletsch is at 1750 metres, at the very top of the Rhone valley. It was once at the snout of the Rhone glacier, hence the name, but the glacier has since retreated far up the mountain.

So, we were only doing the top 650 metres of the climb, which is why it was "only" Cat 1, rather than Hors Categorie, but it was still a sustained ascent of 10km, averaging 6.5%, with a maximum of 10%, so the steepest on the whole parcours. It would also be the highest point we'd reach, at almost 2500 metres.

We started the climb with determination. Determination to catch the four in front and give ourselves a chance of victory. My aim was to arrive at the finish with Anna. I didn't even think about pursuing the win for myself. The likelihood of me being able to drop her anywhere were minimal, and I hadn't been given the OK to go solo anyway. I just hoped I'd be able to stay with her. To get another first and second, like at the Itzulia, would be a fantastic result, but first we had to catch the break.

I'd been guzzling water freely up to now -- we both had -- but now the team car was some distance behind and I was on my last bottle. I needed to ration myself.

We rounded three moderate hairpins and emerged on a straightish, rising traverse, with a broad panorama on our left. There used to be spectacular views of the Rhone glacier from here, but now, where the river of ice used to be there's just a slope of barren rock.

Up ahead, we could see the break and their little entourage climbing the upper hairpins towards the Hotel Belvedere. They looked quite catchable, and Anna had her head down, pouring watts into the pedals in her metronomic climbing rhythm. Come on, Maddy, dig in.

The gradient slowly increased from a reasonable 6% to something closer to 10% and I began to struggle. Two or three times, I had to stand, to fight back to Anna's wheel and when she looked for me to do a turn I had to shake my head.

At this point, I'm sure she could have easily ridden me off her wheel and gone solo, but she didn't do that. Either she wanted me as an ally on the long run down to the finish, or had the same vision as me, of us coming to the finish together.

Jo-Jo came on the radio: 'Anna, Maddy, the break has blown up. Viseaux has gone clear at the front. She has 50 seconds on you.'

Crikey. Cedrine on the attack again.

We pressed on up the zig-zags to the Hotel Belvedere, with me hanging by a thread and Anna definitely accommodating my laboured pace. 'Come on, Maddy, allons-y,' she said.

The Belvedere is a famous landmark on the route, but it's now sadly closed. I guess it lost some of its appeal when the spectacular view of the glacier from the dining room disappeared. The building is still there though, and still a magnet for many a tourist camera.

It also marked the point where the gradient began to ease. There were just two more hairpins and then a long gentle incline - 2km long - to the top. It was here that the miracle occured.

Unexpectedly, a delicious cool breeze sprang up, and all my struggle evaporated. We began to pick up speed, and soon caught and passed Letizia and Tara, who had surprisingly been dropped. Up ahead, we could see Abby, and we started to reel her in. There was no sign of Cedrine.

We caught Abby as we crested the summit, and I put my hand on her back, saying 'Good effort, Abbs.'

We caught her, but we didn't drop her. As the road started gradually descending and we picked up more speed, she re-joined us and we formed a trio.

I grabbed my collar mic and said, 'What's Cedrine's gap, Jo-Jo?'

'51 seconds.'

Oof. We'd made no impression at all.

We got our charging heads on, and started swooping down the descent. I hadn't ridden with Abby for a number of years, but I recalled she was a good descender, and I was loving this opportunity to share some miles with her. The three of us proved to be very well-matched, and we all took turns on the front. Not necessarily for drafting (we were mostly going too fast to pedal, anyway) but just to share the lead and, if we're honest, to showboat a little for the cameras.

This descent was pure dead brilliant. Not too steep, smooth surface, nice broad corners, an occasional waterfall by the roadside giving off wonderful cooling spray, and two marvellous riding companions. I was transported.

All too soon, the road started levelling out as we approached Realp, and suddenly, our turns on the front demanded serious work again. Abby was holding her own amazingly well, and we made a powerful trinity. Surely, Cedrine's time would soon be up?

Jo-Jo kept us informed on the gap, and by Andermatt, we had reduced it to 39 seconds. There were 35km to go, and there were three of us, against a lone Cedrine. She had no chance.

From Andermatt, the road started to go downhill again though, plunging down into the Reuss gorge, and there were hairpins to negotiate in places. We didn't exactly hang about, but by Wassen, where we rejoined the outward route, the gap was back up to 47 seconds. Cedrine was obviously using her descending prowess to the max.

I realised with a shock that we might struggle to catch her until the road levelled out again at Amsteg, with just 14km to go. At the age of 24, Cedrine seemed to have found a new level. She was flying.

In the midst of the descent of the gorge, there was a little climb, where the road went up and over a rocky outcrop, and this proved to be Abby's undoing. Halfway up the climb she started losing touch, and I looked back to see her waving us on. Shame. I was enjoying having her with us.

Anna pressed on, and Jo-Jo came on the radio again; '33 seconds.' Ha, that little climb had taken its toll on Cedrine as well as Abby. She might still be ours.

We emerged from the gorge and started ticking off the last few villages before Altdorf, and I dug deep to do my turns on the front until I was spent, and could only cling on in Anna's draft, with sweat dripping off my nose.

Jo-Jo's updates on Cedrine's lead became more and more regular: At Amsteg ('27 seconds'). At Silenen ('back out to 32') What?? How was she doing this?

Anna pushed harder, and I was in all kinds of trouble but, somehow, I managed to hold on.

At Erstfeld, we had got her down to 27 seconds again, but as we approached Schattdorf, with only 2km remaining, she still had 22, and it was starting to look like a lost cause. I think Anna realised it too, and I detected a definite slackening of her pace.

Under the flamme rouge (final kilometre) and it was clear we weren't going to get there. Our rate of gain wasn't fast enough. Cedrine had survived, and she was going to score a famous victory. Bloody epic. Chapeau Cedrine.

As we approached the line, Anna slowed and held out her hand to me. I came alongside her and we crossed the line together, hand in hand. The results would separate us anyway, placing Anna second and me third, probably because of her status, and the fact she's Swiss. It didn't matter. It was the symbolism that counted and it was that picture that appeared all over the cycling 'net, along with one of Cedrine, arms in the air and head thrown back as if giving thanks to the heavens.

As soon as we finished, we rolled up to Cedrine and we all embraced, clashing our bikes carelessly together. 'Chapeau, Cedrine, chapeau. Brilliant ride, just brilliant. Well done.'

Our bikes were taken away, and then I spotted Abby finishing, just under two minutes down. I greeted her with 'Ahh, Abbs. Tough luck. 4th place is never good, is it?

'Are you kidding me? That was the best fun I've ever had! What a race. And riding with you and Anna... Bloody awesome.' She chuckled and gave a little snort, which I remembered she always does when she laughs.

She was right. It had been a bloody awesome race. The gruelling climbs, the hot sun, the escape on the Grimsel, climbing up by the Belvedere, the wonderful descent, riding with Abby again, more magical time with Anna, and the epic chase. Such are the things that memories are made of. And, in a way, I was glad Cedrine had won. She deserved it. It was a brilliant ride. I was happy for her.

That evening, we joined our team for dinner at their hotel, but then we drove home to Anna's wonderful house at Alpispass and the paradise that is her bed.

In the morning, I awoke very late, and stretched. I had an exquisite stiffness, and I tensed and relaxed my quads a few times, just to explore it. The legacy of 4000m of climbing and an epic chase.

Anna was already busy in the kitchen. I smelled the aroma of coffee, and I smiled to myself. Could my life get any better?

Yes it could. My phone gave a little chirrup. It was an email from Jo-Jo:

'Team for the Tour de France Femmes...'

Fuck me, I was going to the Tour.

(To be continued)