Chapter 9

Zeus

We were just putting together our breakfast in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. It was a little bit off the beaten track, about an hour or so off I-40, but Dolly Parton had always been an idol of mine. Ever since I was eight and I saw her on TV with those huge tits, and this was my chance to see Dollywood. Arti had never been, and still wasn't, much of country music fan, but she was a good sport. I kept trying to educate her to the finer points of that genre, but ... what can I say? She still thought that it was a tossup for best group between Fleetwood Mac and the London Philharmonic. She tended to favor the London band, 'cause they had better material: Beethoven, Bach ... you know.

We'd gotten to the lobby of Dolly's theater in the late afternoon. I looked at the life-sized wax figure of Dolly they had on display. Apparently, it was as close to the real thing as I was going to get, 'cause Dolly herself was in Las Vegas. Just around the corner from the 'res'. Who knew? We could have gone some weekend and I could have seen those massive jugs in person. Seeing everything nearly live, I decided that: yes, she was well endowed ... very well endowed ... but it was her diminutive overall stature that made them seen so ... well, humongous.

Arti had reached over, as I was standing in front of the replica-Dolly, and gently pushed my mouth closed. "Don't make a scene, Zeus," she chuckled. "We're still on honeymoon status, so don't drool on yourself."

"I ... well, they're ... I mean..." I stammered.

"C'mon. Let's go inside and see the show." And she dragged me away and into the theater, still laughing. "Am I big enough for you, Z? I don't have anything like Dolly's size."

"What? You're great. And no, you don't have boobs that can match Dolly. Who does?" I clearly needed to do some reassurance here. And quickly. "It's like ... when you go to the Grand Canyon. You look at it and just say, 'Wow!' No matter how much 'wow' she may have, I fell in love with you for a whole bunch of 'wow' reasons. Looking back, I think the first day you stood on the hood of the H2, with your spotter equipment and gave me hell for not shooting at targets fast enough ... that was a 'wow'. I kinda fell in love with you on the spot. You are so much more than a collection of parts – boobs and ass and brain and ... a spotter." I bent over and kissed her neck and finished it off with a little lick.

She curled her hand up and wrapped it around my head. It came to rest on the metal plate that was now my skull. "Okay," she said, pulling me closer. "You can still be my husband, even if you are lusting over a wax replica of huge breasts."

We found our seats and enjoyed the show. She even waggled her toe in time with the music, although I wondered if she was waggling it in time with the music or wiggling it more because it was against my leg.

Anyway ... the next morning we were making breakfast, and talking to Io via the laptop, when Martinez interrupted.

"We shouldn't go to D.C.," he started. "We need to go to Florida again. Not Orlando this time. We have to go to Sanibel Island."

I heard it in stereo again: the fraction of a second delay in hearing it through the laptop's speakers and the no-delay in hearing it in my own head. I was used to it by now. It had been going on for months.

"What changed, Chief?" I asked.

"Nothing specific. But I just flashed on a headline in the Washington Post: 'Patriot Sniper Arrested' it said. And then another in the Sanibel Gazette: 'Shootout on Serenity Lane: 2 Dead, 1 Wounded.' I gotta believe that you're involved, L.T.," he went on. "Considering all the information, I think we need to be on Serenity Lane on Sanibel Island, instead of Washington, D.C."

"Chief," said Arti, "have you ever been wrong, when you got information like that? 'Patriot Sniper Arrested' is pretty specific. Do we have to go to D.C. and make it true?"

"I don't know, Arti. My flashes of future history are pretty accurate," the Master Chief said. "I don't remember a single case of them being wrong. But I don't know if we have to make it come true. I'm willing to be wrong about this one."

"I don't even know where Sanibel Island is," I said. "Is it in the Florida Keys, somewhere? A private island?"

"No, Zeus," said Io. "It's a resort island off the west coast of Florida, at the mouth of the Caloosahatchee River. A very upscale island – half private homes, half is the Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge. Serenity Lane borders on the Refuge. This may be significant, there is a home on Serenity Lane owned by a Vander family. That is the name of Ms Hartnet's partner. Checking further... , yes it's her parent's house. I suppose that is were Ms Hartnet is staying." We'd come to rely on Io's nearly instant access to all sorts of data.

I looked over my plate full of hash browns and scrambled eggs at Arti. She put her glass of OJ down and just nodded back.

"Okay, Number One," I said. My Picard imitation was very poor. "Lay in a course for Sanibel Island."

"Yes sir!" came a male voice from the laptop. Perhaps it was the 'Number One' from the Star Trek series, I didn't know. And then Io shifted back to her normal voice: "I've found three homes on Serenity Lane and two on Sage Court that are vacant and all available for a Christmas rental. All close to the Hartnet/Vander home. Where do you want to be?"

"As close as possible to Alison Hartnet's house or the Vander house – whatever," I answered. "And I definitely want to stay away from D.C. and the arrest of the Patriot Sniper."

"Well, the Vander home is at 1700 Serenity." Io was nothing if not complete. "The nearest rental is across the street at 1708 Serenity Lane. That is next to the vacant houses on Sage Court."

"Good. Rent it for a whole month starting ASAP," I said, wondering if 'a-sap' was going to be in her dictionary. Probably. "It's going to take us a couple of days to drive down there, so arrange what you can, Ms Social Secretary."

It was a very snooty English accent that came out of the laptop's speakers. "Yes, suh. I'll contact the rental agent as soon as her office opens. A Mrs. Bascomb, I believe. And, the trip will take only twelve hours, with me driving, suh."

"We've got the time, so let's take it easy." I peered at the Google map that was on the laptop screen. "Why don't we stop in Valdosta, Georgia and get some of those famous onions I've heard about."

Arti threw a crust of her toast at me. "That's Vidalia Onions, not Valdosta Onions, dummy."

Io piled on: "Vidalia Onions are from Tattnall County, Georgia. Home of the famous Vidalia Onion Festival. Held each May, so we'll miss that. It's not on the way, Zeus."

"Okay, okay!" I held up my hands in surrender. "Belay the call for onions. So let's spend the night at Weeki Wachee, instead. I always wanted to see a mermaid. They have good 'wow' features too."

"We can stop at Weeki Wachee. There's plenty of room at the hotels there," said Io. "Mermaid Jacqueline is the featured mermaid this week, according to their web site. Her favorite exercise is swimming and she likes long walks on the beach at sunset."

"That's all right, Io. I don't think..." I started to say.

Arti said, almost simultaneously, "You're a pig. Still hooked on the girls with the big 'wowsers' huh?" And she stomped off to the bedroom. I could hear her muttering "Long walks on the beach! I'll walk on his beach!"

I said to Io: "At least an hour before we leave, Io." And then I went into the bedroom area of our trailer. "What's up? Why are you so upset? I was just foolin' around. You know that."

Arti stared at me with a look I'd never seen before: it was like 'How could you not know?'

"It's just my period is due to start almost any day now. I guess I'm a little cranky. Sorry Z." But she didn't look sorry, and it bothered me.

I took two steps and enveloped her in a wrap-around hug. I was significantly taller than she was, and my arms folded around her. I bent down and made a sloppy mess of licking her ear. "No fair being mad at your new husband," I whispered.

I slobbered so much in her ear that she started to giggle. Then she squirmed. I held her tight and pushed her back onto the king-sized bed.

"I give! I give. Just don't drool into my ear any more," she got out between all the squirming and giggling.

I loosened my hold on her and she was all over me in a flash. She tried tickling me, but by now she had to know that I was immune to tickling. Just didn't hit my funny bone, or something.

She was going after my ribs. I pretended to squirm and then grabbed my head. "Ow. The blood pressure. My head." But my tone of voice told her all she needed to know: it was all a fake. She grabbed my hands (which were on my head) and 'pinned' me to the mattress. I was bigger and stronger but I let myself be pinned. There are some struggles you don't want to win, you know? She kissed me and ground her body against mine.

I opened my eyes and saw hers at too-close range. She looked very intense. I kissed her back and we spent the next few hours on our honeymoon again.

Well, we got on the road eventually, and made it to Weeki Wachee Springs in Florida. I didn't much like the look of the motel where we had a reservation, so we parked the trailer – okay, camper – at a WalMart parking lot for the night. Arti still was tetchy but I made allowances for PMS, although she never had it before. I guess you get it when you got it. I don't know. I just curled up behind her and put my hands on her 'wowsers.' "You beat the Weeki Wachee mermaids all to hell," I said into her hair. She just hugged my arms and went to sleep.

We caught the early show the next day and the 'mermaids' did have exceptional lung capacity! Every once in a while one of them would go over to the 'pirate chest' behind some rocks and get a breath from the concealed air hose there. One mermaid in particular, Mermaid Rebecca, had such impressive lung capacity that they threatened to pop out of her bikini top. The mermaids were nude on the bottom, of course. I mean ... with a fish tail that came up to her navel, where would you tie off a bikini bottom?

After a lunch of fried fish (what else?), and grumbling from my very own personal mermaid, we got on the road again. She grumbled about half-way to Tampa, but we'd had a pretty good time in the dazzlingly clear waters of the Weeki Wachee spring.