Chapter 33

Mitch completely forgot why he'd come to the diner until Lulu came up to the table with her jacket on and looked at Kris.

"We have some things to talk about," she said. "I'm ready to go."

Then it all came back to Mitch and he told them why he'd come. Lulu seemed to be the most impressed.

"My man is a hero? The governor of New York's wife wants to thank him? That's pretty cool."

Kris might not have been able to remember who he was, but his inner psychology had not been affected. He felt a sudden craving for anonymity. He didn't want to be in any spotlight. The whole incident that had just played out, and in which he'd felt only mildly humiliated, had only made him wish it had happened privately, instead of publicly. The fact that Mitch had acted like nothing had happened at all had helped. Well, other than pointing to places Kris needed to get cleaner, as he wiped his face off with the damp towel. But after that was done, it wasn't mentioned again.

"I don't want to be a hero," said Kris. "I just want to get on with life."

"You can't just ignore what happened," said Mitch. "You're famous now. At least for fifteen or twenty minutes. Enjoy it while it happens."

"No thanks," said Kris. "I'd rather spend time with Lulu."

"Awwwwww," she said, leaning down to give him a quick peck on the lips. It was all sweetness and light, until she said, "You sure couldn't have told that by the way you acted for the last two weeks."

"I can explain that," said Kris weakly.

"We'll see," said Lulu. "In the meantime, I think you should be civil and let the woman thank you."

"I don't think so," said Kris stubbornly. He turned to Mitch. "You call her back. Tell her I said thanks, but no thanks. Tell her I'd have done it for anybody." He blinked. "Hey. Wait! There's no WAY I did that on purpose. Even if I'd known they were kidnapping her, I wouldn't have run into one of them. That's crazy! It was an accident!"

"But you DID save her life," said Mitch. "At least it looks like it. They killed two other victims they kidnapped before this."

"That's awful!" said Lulu, her voice soft.

"No," said Kris. "I don't want fame or any of that. I just want to write and love Lulu ... if she'll let me."

"Awwwww," she said again. Kris stood up before she could kiss him. He glanced around. Several men were grinning at him, including the pastor. He looked at Mitch.

"Are you going to arrest me for the hit and run?"

Mitch grinned. "I'm not that stupid," he said. "You're a hero."

Kris turned back to Lulu. "Come on," he said. "Like you said, we have things to talk about."

Initially, it wasn't much fun. He hadn't spent much time thinking about how Lulu would feel about his actions. He soon recognized the fact that he'd only been thinking of himself, for the most part, and had only thought about her in very abstract terms.

She disabused him of the abstraction of his actions very quickly.

She told him about how worried she'd been, initially, and then how frustrated and worried she'd been when she couldn't find him. When it had finally sunk in that he'd just left town, the pain had almost ripped her apart. And then, when he hadn't called or contacted her in any way at all, she had doubted her own intelligence. It had been torture for her and she made him feel it.

He sat helplessly through it all. They hadn't gone to pick up Ambrose. She'd called Roslynn and asked if he could stay for a while, so they could work through the obvious issues. She'd told him to sit on the couch and had disappeared into her bedroom, returning in a Popeye T shirt that said, "I YAM WHAT I YAM!" on the chest and a pair of dark blue hip hugging jeans. She'd paced then, while she talked, unburdening herself. He kept staring at the zipper of the jeans, where the tab was standing straight out at the top, instead of lying flat, the way it was supposed to. It suggested she'd dressed in a hurry, putting on what first came to her fingers. She'd been eager to rake him over the coals.

"Well?"

His mind had wandered and he tried to focus. She'd said a lot, to sum it all up with a one word question.

"I needed to find out who I was," he said. He felt like it was completely inadequate as an answer.

"I know," she said, her shoulders slumping. She didn't quite wilt in front of him, but she swayed, as if she was suddenly so tired that she might fall down. He leaned forward, instinctively, ready to catch her if she fell. She saved him the trouble by stepping toward him and sinking down on his lap. "I wanted to help you find out who you were."

Then the tears came and she hugged him fiercely, telling him in actions what words could never have conveyed. She had lost him ... but now she had him in her arms.

He wanted more than anything to make love to her then. The passion that surged through him was animalistic. He'd lost her too, after all, and was experiencing the same thing she was ... the reintroduction of the love of their lives, after a torturous hiatus.

But, when she stood and pulled him to the bedroom, it seemed all wrong, somehow, to tear off his clothes and jump on top of her. Instead they lay down. Her night's work, followed by the emotional storm, and his night's driving, followed by the verbal flogging he'd received, drained them both of the energy needed to make physical love.

Instead, they slept in each other's arms.

Mitch dutifully delivered Kris' message to Harper, who groaned when he heard the news. Hoping against hope, he called Mrs. Custer. While the phone rang he wondered what kind of hissy fit Captain Hildebrand would have if he knew one of his detectives not only had the private number of the governor's wife, but was using it to deliver information she would probably not be happy about.

She wasn't. Not only that, his argument that the poor man had been through hell already and only wished to get on with his life out of the spotlight, didn't cut any mustard with Chantal.

"I have to deal with the spotlight," she snapped. "He saved my life and he WILL let me thank him for it!"

She then commenced to browbeat out of the big tough detective, where her savior could be found.

Lulu woke first. Upon finding herself fully clothed, she looked at her watch. It wasn't terribly late. She looked at the still sleeping man beside her and had a mountaintop experience, in which she just knew that the worst was over and that things were going to work out. She could take another hour before she'd be imposing on Roslynn, so she got up and took her clothes off. Then she methodically tried to strip her lover, something that looked easier than it turned out to be, until he woke up and began to help.

It is quite possible to be completely satisfied with your lover, and crave his attention, and at the same time pursue a continuing, but less vituperative line of punishment for his misdeeds. In this case, Lulu got on top of him and rode him until he was about to cum.

Then she stopped and willed her pussy muscles to go slack.

She was winding down from her third orgasm and had just done that again, when he finally caught on.

"You're still mad at me," he panted.

"Only a little," she said, looking down at him. She gave his prick a little squeeze.

"My balls are going to swell up and explode," he moaned. "What good will I be to you then?"

"You hurt me," she said, beginning to rock again. "You must be punished."

"I WROTE that line in my last book," he moaned.

"Until further notice, you may address me as Duchess Lulu of Pembroke," giggled Lulu. "Don't move, I'm going to cum on your beautiful hard cock again."

Again, Chantal didn't depend on any resources out of her own control to deal with the Farmingham matter. To her credit, she didn't intend to ruin the man's life, she merely wanted to thank him. She had her own money and, to avoid any possible conflict of interest, or the wasting of taxpayer's funds, she instructed her personal assistant to charter a helicopter to take her to Connecticut. The governor, of course, couldn't break away from his duties at the drop of a hat, so she only took an entourage of five with her. The only mistake made was that she failed to tell her personal assistant that this was to be an "under the radar" event. The personal assistant told the press secretary about the trip and he did what he thought he was supposed to do.

Thus it was that, when the chopper took off with the first lady of New York in it, three other helicopters took off as well, carrying reporters, cameramen and all the gear that is required to fulfill their "obligation" to report the "news."

Pembroke didn't have an airport. But they had a town square, which was large enough and clear enough to land a Sikorsky S-76, which is what Chantal's group was in. And there were fields nearby that were large enough to land two Bell 429s and a Eurocopter AS 350. Of course, with no air controllers being involved, there was no warning for the citizens of Pembroke that they were being invaded.

In most situations where something like this happens, the VIP involved hands out a press packet that explains the itinerary-times, dates and so forth-so the media organization can make plans. This little junket happened quickly and there was no press packet, which led the reporters and editors involved to suspect that something secret was going on. As may be imagined, there was a lot of creative thinking that went on after the aircraft were down and parked. Ground transport was needed and, since each media group was trying to get the scoop first, the need for that transport was urgent.

Bud Wilkinson, a local farmer, was the first to approach a helicopter. It had landed in his field. His truculence at the nerve of some fancy pants to just land there was overcome when he was offered three thousand dollars for the use of his pickup truck, which was worth, in his own estimation, about eight hundred bucks.

Twila Bittlesbury thought the helicopter that had landed in her back yard had actually crashed, and she called 911 before going outside to see what actually happened. When the ambulance and volunteer fire department arrived, there was some tension, until the reporter on the chopper offered to reimburse them all for the cost of coming out. Of course, part of that deal was a ride back to town.

The WNBC helicopter opted to land on the football field of the Pembroke high school. It wasn't being used at the time, but the racket was heard in every room in the building. School might as well have been suspended, because every teacher and every student went to see what was happening. A number of those kids had vehicles, so WNBC had no trouble getting their stuff taken into town.

Chantal had no need for transport. As she stepped down the steps of her helicopter, she was met by Greg Shaffer, who'd gotten a call from one of the radio stations in New York City and asked to provide a feed. Mayor Childress was with him, as was Dabney Whittaker, who was NOT there to arrest anybody for landing a helicopter on the town green without permission. People began to come out of shops on the square, to see what was going on.

Lulu was just about to let him cum, when there came a pounding on the front door that they could clearly hear, even in the bedroom. They could also hear a voice bellow "POLICE! OPEN UP!"

"That sounds like Mitch!" groaned Kris.

"What now?!" growled Lulu.

She hopped off of Kris with a slurping, sucking sound, and he moaned as cool air hit his penis. He was of half a mind to just jerk off, he wanted to cum so badly. His hand went to his prick and Lulu stopped, just long enough to say, "Don't you dare! What's in that is mine!"

Then, both because she was ticked off at the disruption, and because modesty wasn't among the top ten of things she worried about, she went to the front door and pulled it open.

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