Chapter 44: The Girl and the Rose

It was probably close to midnight local time when I wandered back to my open-air suite. But I was still on PST so the night was young, as far as I was concerned.

“Young” being the operative word.

I did notice that one of the topless blonde Utah clones (or whatever the hell they were) was carrying a sidearm. Only later I would find out that this actually was Melissa Turnbull, allowing Master PC to change her appearance so that she could blend into the scenery.

“You are absolutely the most hellacious cop I’ve ever seen,” Doc greeted her. Chuck, who instituted the changes, waved at her. Melissa sat down straddling a chair as if oblivious to her wardrobe.

“Our New York contact let us know that we grabbed one of Michaux’s men at Althea’s office, and he was trying to use their Master PC to get through security,” she explained, her professionalism showing through her guise.

“What happened?” Doc asked.

“He made it all the way into the office, but he was taken down from behind,” Melissa reported accurately. “You do not want to know the rest.”

Doc took it on faith and walked away. After a moment to let him leave, Chuck joined her.

“Don’t ask; don’t tell,” he said quietly, and Melissa nodded. The Canadian was drugged, thrown in a trunk and dumped over Niagara Falls, but that fact did not need to be shared. But his blipping out on Michaux’s Master PC told his master/boss that he wasn’t coming home.

“I need need every computer expert I have on my payroll to join me here in Canada,” Michaux barked. “Think you can handle that?”

“Yes, master,” a very-much-alive Shay Michaux said, stepping out of the room as quickly as possible.

I threw off clothes as I walked across the main room and eagerly hit the shower for the second time that day; I had pudding in awkward places, to put it politely. Since I had long since left any modesty behind, I did not bother with a towel as I stepped out of the bathroom to discover I was not alone. The face was one I would never forget.

“Andi?” I froze in my tracks. “Andi Chance?”

“Hello, Lawrence,” said the first girl I ever dated, at the ripe old age of 15. “Thank you for the rose – again.”

In fact, she was standing there looking like she hadn’t aged a day, holding a long-stemmed rose just like the one I gave her on our first date. I began scrambling for a towel, but she just laughed in the sweet little giggle I loved when we walked to school each day for about five years.

“Oh, please, Lawrence,” she said, happy and delighted. “I have a husband and two sons. Naked men are hardly a novelty any more.”

“Hard to believe you have kids,” I said after giving her a somewhat self-conscious hug; it seemed she was even wearing the same dress she wore for our first date. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“You’re sweet, but you’re also full of shit,” she said, smelling the rose and shaking her head. She turned to look in the mirror. “What I see is a middle-aged woman who needs to lose a few pounds and do a better job of coloring her hair.”

At that point, I remembered what Doc said about the flight crew and the hotel staff. They thought this is the way they’re supposed to look. I was so overjoyed to see her, I quickly decided to go with the moment.

“Andi, how long has it been?” I said, taking her hand.

“It seems like it was yesterday,” she said, pulling my arms around her. “And I love you just as much as I ever have.”

“Really?” I said, dick twitching between us. “What about that family back home?”

“I love them to death,” she said, unblinking. “But you never forget your first – date.”

I started to sit down at the dining room table with her, but I craved more intimacy than that, so we sat down on the side of the bed. I took her hand and looked into her eyes and all of a sudden, it seemed like the last 25 years had not flown past. In the dim light of my one room lamp and the flickering of the tiki torches outside, I could still make out the red in her hair and the slightest trace of freckles on her smooth, unlined face.

“Geez, Andi, this is unbelievable,” I said, shaking my head.

“Yeah. I was shocked when your friend called me,” she said. “My husband didn’t understand why I was so eager to leave. I just told him you were my oldest friend, and he gave me his blessing.”

“How long did we actually go out, anyway?” I asked, hoping her memory was better than mine. It was.

“Not that much, really. We saw each other every day when we walked to school, after all,” she laughed again. “The only reason we went out is because I wanted to see that movie that my parents wouldn’t take me to.”

“What was it again?” I asked sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Ohmigod, really?” she rolled her eyes. “It was the Breakfast Club, you goof.”

“I don’t remember watching the movie much,” I said. “I spent most of the night watching your face in the glow of the screen.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” she said. “But you were so shy. You never even kissed me on the lips.”

“Am I going to be able to kiss you tonight” I asked nervously.

“Let me put it this way,” she said, a small smile working its way across her face. “Have you not noticed that I have been jacking you off for the last five minutes?”

Before I could answer, she lowered her head and my first crush was going down on me like a pro. I moaned and fell back on the bed, briefly pulling my member out of her mouth. She looked annoyed, but without a further word she pulled her demure dress off over her head to reveal no underwear adorning her blossoming body. She resumed work with an increased vigor once she was certain of my approval.