TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1 The Plan. 5
Chapter 2 Almost A Spyder 8
Chapter 3 The Bachelor Web. 19
(This Section Rated G)
Chapter 1 The Plan
Cynthia gazed across the desk at her brother. "Glenn, I think this will work. I really do."
"Um, well... I'm not so sure. I hope we can pull it off...”
"Think about it Glenn, no one will ever suspect. We just need a few people we can really trust."
Glenn twiddled a pencil between his fingers and gazed at the fish tank built in to his paneled office wall. "Like who?"
"Well, could we use Dan?"
"Dan MacIntyre?" He swiveled his Steelcase executive chair around, tossing the pencil on his mahogany desk. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Well, why not?" she drew up her chest from her perch across the desk from him. "Is there something wrong with my boyfriend? Hmmmf!" She crossed her arms.
"No, no, don't get your tail in a knot, Sis."
"Well then," her voice rose, "what's wrong with Dan?"
"Do you want it in alphabetical order?" Glenn smirked.
"Oh you...you..." Cynthia looked for the nearest object to throw at him.
Glenn ducked, stifling his laughter.
"What's so damned funny?" she demanded rising from her chair, hands on hips.
"You're so cute when you're mad." Glenn held up his hands in a defensive position.
Cynthia fumed.
Glenn made the peace sign. "Calm down, calm down, I was just kidding."
"Right!" she scoffed.
"Truly, I was kidding. I'm sorry, Sis. Now, just sit down and listen for a minute."
She glared.
"Please, Cynth, just sit down. Give me a chance to explain."
Unhurriedly, she perched on the very edge of her chair. "One minute, no more. And make it good, or I'm outta here."
"All right. Here's the thing. Listen, there's nothing wrong with Sergeant Dan. He's a great guy. I really mean it. But, for this caper, we need to stay away from law enforcement. That's all."
"Oh," Cynthia pouted and eased back in her chair. "I see."
Glenn went on. "We need a tight elite group of really smart people. I'm thinking of, oh, maybe, someone out of the spotlight. Someone young, kind of geeky-nerdy, maybe. Not necessarily Ivy League."
"Like a young Bill Gates."
"Yeah, but unattached."
"So we can't use Juliette McBride."
"Heavens, no!"
"I wish we could." Cynthia bit her lip. "She'd be perfect."
"Yeah," Glenn sighed. "Too close to the senator."
"Too dangerous for her."
"I know. Too dangerous for both of them. Shall we give it some thought?"
Cynthia sipped her coffee, set it down, and idly stirred in some artificial sweetener.
"So, what do you think?" Glenn asked.
"Um, well...can it be someone who works in the government offices?"
"I guess that depends. Who do you have in mind?"
"Well, I noticed this kid, an intern, I think. Probably just here for the summer. But, he has that look about him. Thick glasses, kinda scruffy shoes, bent over, a bit skinny."
"So?"
"I don't know. There was just something about him. He's always got his nose in a book or a computer. Kinda shy. Doesn't seem to notice anyone. If he was a cartoon character, there would be light bulb over his head."
"It might be good to get someone from out of town. Check into it, Sis. You always have a sixth sense about these things."
"Okay, I'll find out what he is ‘into’ and get back to you."
"All right. Good. And I've got my staff doing research on social media. I think we’ll have a list of target sites, by the first of the week."
"Good plan. I'll do what I can, but, you know..."
"Yeah, you're busy. So am I."
"We can do a lot of the planning, but the online stuff is going to take time."
"Time we haven't got."
"A couple of young kids from the Midwest, who know their way around the net, would be perfect."
"I can set them up with everything they need, a totally private identity, a room full of the highest tech snooping equipment, super high speed computers, anonymous web sites, foreign search engines and I.P.O. addresses."
"I know you can, Glenn, and I'm counting on you. We'll get these people."
Glenn offered his hand, palm out. "It's you and me, Sis."
Cynthia slapped him a high five and a fist bump. "Cyber war, Bro."
"Together!"
"Together!" She bared her teeth, clenched a fist, turned and smartly strode out the door.
Chapter 2 –
Almost a Spyder
Cynthia slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried from Glenn's modern office building, her mind running through the long checklist she had today. She was already way overdue getting back to the office, from her lunch hour. It was a forty-five minute drive from Fairfax, Virginia back to the Hart Senate Office Building, in central Washington D.C., where she worked for Senator Mike McBride.
In one graceful move she eased her cute bottom into her red MX-5 Miata roadster, and prepared for the drive back downtown. Traffic would be moving this time of day. The message light was blinking on her cell phone as she eased out of the parking lot. No time to look at it now. She needed to hurry.
Mike would never say anything. He was the best boss ever and his generosity was beyond belief, but still, she hated to take advantage of his good will. Cynthia loved her job as chief of security, investigator and body guard for the senator, as well as part-time receptionist, a job she kept as cover. Life was good for this country girl from rural Virginia.
Well, not quite perfect. Cynthia's thoughts turned to her relationship with Sergeant Dan MacIntyre, of the Fairfax PD. Things were not exactly troubled. Truth was there was very little passion in the relationship, neither good, nor bad. It was more like comfy and hum-drum, you might say. Cynthia wondered what she should do about it, or whether she should do anything.
When they first met, it was so exciting. Golly, he was to-die-for handsome in his splendid police uniform, tall and strong, and when he smiled, his whole face lit up. Cynthia remembered holding hands on their walk back to the car, making her palms burn. Their first kiss was tender and sweet. His lips were so soft and downright delicious. She could feel the tingle all the way down her spine to her toes.
It had been a tiring day. They were out with Mike and Lady Dog and all the men and women from the Fairfax PD task force, searching in the wild areas of the county for a murder victim. After a long day, Dan had volunteered to drive her home. They were both hungry and had stopped for a bite at a small restaurant. His whiskers had grown out since his morning shave and it scratched her cheek when he kissed her goodnight.
The thought of food snapped her mind back to reality, reminding her that she had skipped lunch. Oh well, it's a worthy cause, she thought. We're gonna get these guys. Everyone was worried about the way the terrorists seemed to be able to take advantage of social media to recruit young people from all over the world, even right here in America. Something had to be done to stop them!
Cynthia had taken her plan to her brother, Glenn Patterson, owner of Fairfax Private Investigators. She knew that Glenn had access to high-tech methods, and equipment so new that even the CIA did not have it yet. Glenn had contacts all over the world. He made it his business to stay one step ahead of the bad guys, and the good guys, too, for that matter.
Cynthia's eye caught the traffic light ahead as it turned yellow and then red. She cruised to a stop and reached for her cell phone. Now would be a good time to check her messages.
Ah, here's a message from Dan. She opened it, eager to hear from him.
"Hi Babe, what's up? How about grabbing a bite and a movie tonight? 'Bout 7?"
She quickly texted back. "Ur on! See ya at 6:30, ok?" She tapped "send" and hung the phone back in its cradle, just as the traffic light turned green. Cynthia expertly shifted through the five gears, accelerating up to cruising speed in just seconds.
It was a nice enough day to drive with the top down. She relished the feeling of wind on her face, even if it messed up her hair. Not a problem, she thought.
She maintained a chin-length sassy hairstyle, requiring little more than a blow-dry with a round brush each morning. A quick comb-through in the elevator would set it to rights. It cost a little more to get a good cut and styling every six weeks, but it was one of those "must-have" items in her budget.
Cynthia's mood brightened considerably at the thought of seeing Dan tonight. He could not take her out all that often, since his cop's salary did not allow for it. The Washington metro area's living costs were among the highest in the nation. Besides, Cynthia was almost sure he was paying off student loans, although Dan never said so. His spending habits were conservative. Sometimes Cynthia wished he was more relaxed, less serious, and more open with her.
I guess I'm pretty lucky my mom and dad paid my way through college, she thought. So many young people leave college in debt and then have trouble finding good jobs and paying it off. Cynthia silently thanked her folks and the good Lord she had a great job and was not in debt. Well, except for her car payments, that is.
Cynthia skillfully guided the sport's car around traffic, enjoying the feel of the car's contoured bucket seats and the road-handling attributes. She knew that her dad was a bit taken aback when she bought her first car, the MX-5 Miata. It wasn't exactly the Alfa Romeo Spyder that her mom drove, years ago, when she was fresh out of college and single, but was the closest thing to it that Cynthia could afford right now. Too bad Mom sold that car, back then, after she got married and the babies came along. It would be worth a fortune today. But Cynthia's MX-5, with its five speed transmission, retractable hardtop and very sporty design was plenty good enough for a working girl.
Swinging down the fast lane of the freeway, Cynthia was tempted to open it up, to see what it could do, but she remembered her promise to her dad. Don't worry, Dad. I'll be careful. Besides it would never do to get a speeding ticket. Her dad said the sleek lines of the little red car made it look like it was going fast, even when standing still. She smiled at the thought.
Cynthia exited the freeway and began the stop-and-go progress through the downtown streets to her parking garage. Stopping for a red light, she picked up a one-word return message from Dan: "6:30," signed with a smiley face.
As she neared her office building's parking ramp, she began to hear sirens--a common sound in any big city--but these seemed more numerous and strident than usual. Then she noticed a lot of people milling around on the sidewalks and looking up. Her cell phone sounded Danny's tone. Using one thumb she punched it on. "Take cover!" was all it said. What tha'?
Traffic had pretty much come to a halt, to allow emergency vehicles to pass. Too curious, by nature, Cynthia inched forward. This route would take her right by the capitol. Finally, men in uniform completely blocked her path, motioning her over to the side. Cynthia grabbed her phone and stuffed it in her bag, containing her weapon and high-def camera. She dashed toward the capitol. Unable to get through the security line blocking her path, she paused for a moment, chest heaving. "What's wrong," she asked the nearest officer. He shrugged and motioned her to move back. Standing on tiptoe she strained to see something—anything. People streamed toward her, scooting under the outstretched arms of the security personnel and rushing off.
Finally one well-dressed man, strolling casually toward her, with little concern, paused to glance at his watch. Cynthia touched his arm. Absently he reached to brush it off. "Sir, sir, one moment, please. Excuse me," Cynthia pleaded. He stopped for a second, plainly irritated, until his eyes fell on hers. "Well, helloooo there, beautiful!" His lips curved up and his hand reached to tip a hat only to realize he wore no hat.
"What's going on?" Cynthia asked.
"Nothing important." He shook his head and smiled. "Here, let me help you," he said, taking her arm and steering her toward the sidewalk.
"B-b-but..." she protested as she hurried along beside him, gripping her handbag.
He glanced around until his eyes fell on a nearby coffee shop. Looking down at her, he bathed her in a devastating smile. "Here we go," he said with no further explanation. Gripping her arm, his long legs ate up the distance with strides twice the length of hers.
Cynthia half ran, half stumbled to keep up. "W-what?"
"In here." He gestured and steered her through the door. "Come along." Quickly he surveyed the fast-filling room and guided her to a booth in a far corner. He helped her into a seat and positioned himself facing the door.
"Now, just a minute..." Cynthia started to protest.
"You'll be safe here," he interrupted.
"I don't see how you know."
"Trust me."
She squared her shoulders. "Are you kidding me? I have no idea who you are, sir!" she announced, prepared to flee at a moment's notice. She drew her handbag close into her lap and surreptitiously unfastened the latch. She certainly could not use her gun in here, but it gave her a feeling of security, knowing it was handy. Who was this stranger, anyway?
"I'll get you something to drink," he offered.
Cynthia gazed at the menu posted over the counter. Her stomach growled.
"You must be hungry," he noticed with a slight grin.
"I missed lunch," she admitted as her stomach growled again. ”Excuse me," she laughed.
"Well, let's see, what looks good to you?"
They gazed at the menu.
"Something quick, maybe?" he offered. "Look, Miss...Miss...uh...er..."
"Cynthia."
"Miss Cynthia, I guess we are going to be stuck here for a bit of time, while the authorities sort out this mess. We might as well have lunch, wouldn't you say?"
"I just left my brand new car sitting on the street."
"Oh no, you didn't!"
"'Fraid so, darn it. I left the key on the seat."
"Bad idea."
Cynthia felt miserable. "I really should go see if I can find it. If you'll excuse me." She half rose out of her seat.
"Wait just one minute, Cynthia, before you go." He pulled out his cell phone, pushed a button and began talking quietly into it. Looking up he asked Cynthia to describe the car.
"It's a 2016 MX-5 Miata by Mazda, retractable hardtop, bright red."
"License number?"
"ILUVDAN," she told him.
He raised an eyebrow, "I-L-U-V-D-A-N, right?"
She nodded and looked down, starting to blush.
"Mmm, I see." He whispered the number into the phone. "Yep, you heard me right," he nodded and curled a lip at her. "We'll wait here for you." He snapped the phone closed and put in on the table. "Now, young lady, let's see what we can get for you to eat. How does today's special sound to you?"
"Anything," replied Cynthia.
"Well, there's hamburger and fries, chicken fried steak or a Phili sandwich with your choice of potato.
"Um, well, I guess the Phili sandwich with sweet potato fries and coffee."
"Excellent choice." He beckoned for the waitress and passed on the order.
"And water, please, if you don't mind," Cynthia added.
"Make that two waters," he said, "with ice and lemon, please."
Cynthia watched in silence as the waitress smiled and left quickly, her thick rubber soles squeaking on the highly polished floor. She attached the order to a clip and hurried over to the water fountain. Grasping two large glasses she scooped up ice and held them under the water faucet. Placing them on a tray with straws, lemon, two mugs and a carafe of coffee she moved back to their table, served the water and poured the coffee.
Cynthia idly used her teeth to remove the end, slipped off the paper covering and stuck two straws into the water. Her companion watched, fascinated, as Cynthia wrapped her luscious lips around the straws and sucked. She reached for the lemon slice, squeezed a few drops into the water and licked the lemon slice, before resuming sucking. At last she looked up, only to meet his two eyes directly. "Oh!" She hastily averted her eyes.
"My apologies, Cynthia, I didn't mean to stare."
"Oh, no problem." She stirred the ice in her glass. "I guess I'm a little nervous."
"Do you work here in the capital city?" he inquired, congenially.
Avoiding the question, she answered, "I'm a little worried about my friends."
"And not your car?"
"Well, that too, of course. I just wish I knew what was happening."
"Perhaps I can learn something for you." He reached for his smart phone again, spoke a short message, and laid the phone down where he could watch the screen. He sipped on his coffee and waited for an answer.
Cynthia watched the screen in fascination. When she looked up, his piercing gray eyes never left her face, peering directly over his coffee mug. "Perhaps you wonder how this works." He nodded toward the phone.
"Oh no, sir, I have one just like it."
"Um-huh, by the way, you may call me Sky, if you want.”
"Sky, I see. I'm Cynthia."
"Yes, I know."
"Oh, yeah, I forgot." She half smiled.
"There's a brave smile, Cynthia. Good for you." Just then the smart phone made a small tone and a message appeared. Cynthia strained to read it upside down.
Sky scrolled through the message. "It seems that an apparently harmless drone landed on the White House lawn. The Secret Service has no idea whose it is. It could be some kind of terrorist test, you know. All the government offices have been evacuated. City schools are in lockdown. Downtown traffic is gridlocked. Estimated time to clear up the mess is three hours. Ah, here is our luncheon." He regarded her, as he discretely snapped the phone closed and slid it into his pocket.
Cynthia had a million questions, but she could say nothing more, just then, except to give the waitress a nod and a thank you.
Sky quietly shook out his napkin, placed it in his lap and said "Excuse me a moment," as he bowed his head for a few seconds, crossed himself, raised his fork and gazed at her in question.
Briefly stunned into immobility, she realized he was politely waiting for her to signal that the meal was started. Cynthia recovered, picked up her sandwich and took the first bite. Shortly he joined her and soon they were both happily munching away.
"These sweet potato fries are delicious," she remarked.
"Yes, one of my favorites," he agreed, after he chewed and swallowed. Sky patted his mouth with his napkin and took a sip of water.
Clearly this man has impeccable table manners, she thought. Her curiosity was aroused. Who was this man? He seemed to have incredible connections. She knew a lot of people on Capitol Hill, as well as most of the important people in Washington. And yet she was sure she had never seen him before.
Sky finished his meal and pushed the dishes aside. He pulled his coffee in front of him and signaled the waitress for a refill.
"How was your meal?" the waitress asked as she filled their cups.
"Mine was excellent, thank you," said Cynthia.
"As was mine," Sky agreed.
"Can I bring you some dessert?"
"No thank you."
"None for me, either. Just keep our coffee cups filled, and bring our check when you have time. No hurry," said Sky. "Looks like nothing is moving outside."
"I see what you're saying. Must have been some kind of fracas up on Capitol Hill." She shrugged and motioned toward the TV set on the wall, tuned in to CNN, with the sound turned off.
"Have you heard anything?" asked Cynthia.
"Not really. I've been a bit busy. A lot of people stopped in."
"I see that. Will you need our table?"
"No, you're fine. Just enjoy yourselves." She moved off taking the coffee pot around to her other customers.
Sky sat back, relaxed, and reached into his suit coat for a cigar. "Mind if I smoke?" he asked.
"I rather doubt that smoking is allowed in any D.C. restaurants," Cynthia replied, realizing he must be new to the city.
"Perhaps the police are too busy right now to come and arrest me, do you think?" He smiled, and gestured with his cigar.
"You could certainly try," Cynthia remarked, "but very possibly you might offend some of the other patrons."
"Do you think they would throw me out?"
"Worse things could happen." Cynthia was enjoying this banter.
"I'd like to see that little waitress try it," he ventured.
"Go ahead, I dare you."
"I never respond to dares. Not since Jimmy Jones challenged me to a fist-fight in third grade."
"What happened?"
"I got a bloody nose, and Jimmy got the girl."
Cynthia snickered.
"You're laughing at me!" he accused.
"You're funny." She covered her mouth, but her eyes still laughed. Just then the phone made a ring tone.
"Excuse me a moment," said Sky. He opened the phone. "Yes?" He listened and nodded. "Hold on." Looking up he said, "Cynthia, my dear, he has your car."
"Oh my goodness! That's wonderful!" she exclaimed.
Sky touched his mouth to caution her to speak softly. "He says it's all right. He raised the hardtop and locked the car."
Cynthia started to say something.
Sky held up one finger, indicating to wait a minute while he listened. "He says the car is totally blocked in." Another moment passed. "He says he can either bring you the keys, or he can stay with the car."
Cynthia shrugged, looking devastated.
Sky spoke into the phone. "Stay with the car, for now. I think we are going on up to the tower apartment. When you can get out, bring the car around and give me a jingle, okay?" Sky nodded with satisfaction and flipped the phone closed. He signaled for their check, extracted a bill and slipped it under the check.
"Come, Cynthia," he smiled. "I need a more comfortable place to enjoy my cigar." He stood and offered his hand.
Out on the street, the congestion was even worse than thought. Nothing moved. Horns sounded. Taxi-drivers yelled at each other and got nowhere. Buses belched exhaust fumes. Too many people had simply abandoned their cars in the middle of the road. The sidewalks were crowded with people trying to get home any way they could.
Sky pulled her up against the building so they could talk. "Let's make a plan," he suggested. "Do you live nearby?"
"No, I have an apartment outside."
"Can you get there by subway, or train?"
"Not easily, no."
"Well, then, perhaps you had better wait for your car. My man will bring it around. But, it may take a few hours, don't you think?" He nodded at the traffic jam.
"Yes, I suppose a lot of these cars will have to be towed out of the way, first."
"I have a place, close by. You are welcome to it."
"Oh, I couldn't."
"Perhaps you have a better idea."
"Uh..." She shrugged helplessly.
"Hmm?" He waited.
"But, I can't allow you to... I mean, you've already done too much. You bought my lunch, rescued my car. I... I...ah..." She looked around for some other person to help her.
"Looks like I'm your only offer, Miss Cynthia."
"I'm ever so grateful." She acquiesced.
"Come, this way." He offered his hand and led the way, keeping up his usual pace. Cynthia hurried beside him, not wanting to get lost or left behind.
"Just one more block and around the corner," Sky encouraged her. Soon they arrived at a gleaming tower.
A uniformed doorman held the door. "Good afternoon, Mr. Eastman, and Miss." He tipped his hat.
"Afternoon, Ben. How's the family."
"Just fine, sir. Baby is doing so much better since you sent the new doctor."
"That's good to know, Ben. We'll be staying for a couple of hours while the authorities get the traffic jam cleared downtown. We're waiting for Jerry to bring my guest's car around. Right now it is totally socked in."
"I'll ring you up when it arrives, sir."
"Very good, Ben." Sky turned to Cynthia and escorted her through the lobby to a bank of elevators. Sky selected the express to tower. He held his palm up to the identity screen and quickly punched in a series of numbers, taking care to shield the code from any prying eyes. The doors whispered open. Sky pressed his warm hand into the center of her back to guide her inside. The doors closed.
Cynthia leaned against the mirrored wall and closed her eyes, the better to hear the music. She did not sense the car as it glided to a stop and opened.
"We're here, Miss Cynthia," said her host. "Shall we?"
Chapter 3 –
The Bachelor Web
She opened her eyes to a stunning view, a gorgeous suite decorated with expensive art works, she was sure were originals, and tasteful furnishings. Her mouth dropped open as she moved through the room to look, wide-eyed, upon a panoramic view of the city. The only building slightly higher than this was the Washington Monument.
"Will you join me?" he asked, as the patio doors opened, seemingly unassisted. "I intend to have my cigar in the open air," he chuckled.
She nodded, too surprised to speak.
Sky gestured toward an arrangement of furniture on the balcony. "Choose any chair you like," he suggested. "Excuse me. I'll only be a moment." He disappeared through a door, probably into a bathroom. In a few moments he emerged and moved to an adjoining kitchen. Cynthia entertained herself watching the people down below appearing like a colony of ants scurrying madly about. Five lanes of traffic were as still as an enormous parking lot. She strained to spot her car in the melee and gave up, turning to watch the soaring birds instead. There's nothing to do but wait.
"Here we go." Sky's cheerful voice broke her reverie. He hooked a side table with one foot and pulled it up to her chair, placed a tall frosted glass down beside her, and set another one on a nearby table, for himself. "One for you and one for me." He smiled showing a perfect set of teeth. "Ah," he sighed as he rested back in a chair and pulled out his cigar. Without asking, he merely gestured toward her with the cigar and raised one eyebrow in question.
"Go right ahead," she smiled, reaching for her drink, "It's your funeral." She wondered where that came from. Ah, something Dad used to say.
"Not right away, I hope," Sky replied as he struck a match, puffing his cigar until it glowed red on the end, raising a cloud of fragrant smoke, which quickly drifted about the balcony and disbursed out into space.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, gazing at the sky, while Sky smoked and Cynthia consumed half of her drink. She realized that she was beginning to feel the effects. "What's in this drink?" she asked.
"You like?"
"It's delicious, but..."
"My dear, you are more than twenty-one, I hope."
"Why do you ask?" She was reluctant to give out personal details.
"Simply that I wouldn't want to be arrested for contributing to the delinquency of a minor."
"Oh. Well, in that case, there's no danger."
"Whew, you had me really worried for a minute," he stated with some small measure of disdain.
She deliberately set the drink down on the table, and started to rise. "Well, thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Eastman."
"No, no, don't leave. I'll tell you what's in the drink, all right? I made it myself."
She waited, still on alert. "Go on."
"It's a mixture of citrus fruit juices, orange, lemon and lime, with a half-ounce of rum."
"A half ounce? Really? It feels like more."
"This is very good rum," he grinned and waved his cigar. "I get it from the same place as my cigars."
She sat back and picked up the drink.
"Cynthia, I have nothing to hide. I can get you a different drink if you like."
Nothing to hide...ha! "Never mind. This is all right. But, I really need to be going soon, and I must be sober enough to drive."
"Of course. It was thoughtless of me." He stood up and reached for her glass. "Here let me take that, and I will get you one without the rum." His smile was reassuring.
She handed him the glass. "May I use your ladies room?"
"Of course, right this way." He pointed her to a door near the entryway. "I think you will find everything you need. I'll just check on your car's status."
Cynthia left to use the bathroom while Sky picked up his smart phone. "Any news?" he asked.
"On my way," came the reply.
"Leave the car in my private parking spot, keys with Ben."
"Got it, boss."
Sky smiled to himself, leaned back and puffed his cigar contemplating a pleasant afternoon to come with a beautiful woman.
Cynthia returned and took her seat, scrutinizing the new drink and taking a cautious sip.
"Better?" he asked.
"It's very good, thank you."
"Excellent. Now you will be safe to drive." He drew on his cigar and blew out a smoke ring. "Ask me anything you like," he offered.
Cynthia thought for a moment. "Well, tell me whether there is any particular story behind your name Sky."
He chuckled, gazed directly at her, and then turned toward the sky. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he drew another mouthful of smoke and blew two perfect smoke rings. He squinted. "Well, it seems that my mother and father were very much in love, so much so that they...well... one day they were on a flight together...how shall I say this...they simply couldn't wait until they got to a hotel... and so it seems that they named me after the place where I was conceived."
Calmly he blew three smoke rings, and waited for her reaction.
Cynthia coughed, put her hand over her mouth and looked away, smirking into her hand.
A minute passed.
Sky looked at her, "Next question," he drawled.
"Do you flaaaa," Cynthia started to say "fly" until she realized how that would sound. She blushed furiously. "D-do you play golf?" she asked.
"No I haven't had time to take up the sport, although I would like to someday. And yes I do fly." he added dryly, as he continued to puff on his cigar, and watched her keenly, enjoying her discomfiture.
Feeling exposed, Cynthia realized what a great prop a cigar makes, and wished for something similar for herself. Well, she had the fruit drink, so she picked that up and pretended to be interested in the straws and ice cubes.
Abruptly, Sky stubbed out his cigar. "I'll tell you what," he turned to her, "let's do something fun. I have a game room. We could play some cards or chess, or watch a movie. What do you say?"
Cynthia was relieved at the change in subject. "Yes let's do something fun."
"All right, come with me," he offered a hand up. She took his hand and together they moved into a stunning recreation room, with a wet bar, card game table, pool table, big screen TV, book shelves, loads of storage areas, and more huge windows. She stopped in the middle of the room, swung around and took it all in. "This is incredible, Sky."
"Yes, this is nice, but, I wish I had more opportunity to use this room. Having you drop in has been great fun, for me. Thank you for joining me. What shall we do first? "
She moved over to the card game table and selected a chair. She folded her hands on the table and looked at him expectantly. Sky sat beside her, pulled out a drawer, chose a deck of cards and started to shuffle. "I'm afraid I know very few card games, other than solitaire," he derided himself.
"Do you play gin rummy?"
"A little, but it's been a long time."
"How about just plain rummy?"
"Used to play that when I was a kid."
"Okay, that's pretty simple. You deal and we'll make up the rules as we go along."
"Do you mind if I cheat?"
"I won't tell a soul."
Before long they were laughing and having a good time.
After the rummy game, he challenged her to a game of pool. She had never played before, and so he did his best to show her how to hold the cue. "You bend over like this," he said, but that turned out to be insufficient instruction. It was necessary to lean over her body and place his hands on hers, more than once. She tried to angle away from his obvious male member as he leaned over her, but he said, "Hold still, Cynthia. Let me show you."
+++++
"Would you like to see an old "I Love Lucy" show? It doesn't last long," he assured her.
"Oh I love her old shows. And I could use a little rest."
"Over here then." He directed her to a soft couch facing the big screen TV. He sat next to her, picked up the remote with one hand and casually laid his arm behind her on the back of the sofa. He grinned down at her and clicked to start the movie. As the opening theme sounded, he activated a control that automatically closed the floor to ceiling drapes and slowly dimmed the lights. Soon they were laughing at the antics of Lucy and Desi, Fred and Ethel. At times they were nearly in hysterics. Gradually his arms closed around her shoulders.
Cynthia enjoyed the warmth of his body, the feel of his white shirt against her arms and his hip against hers.
At the end, soft music replaced the fading movie. A kaleidoscope of pastel colors moved hypnotically over the screen. The room lights dimmed. Cynthia turned toward Sky and smiled, "Thank you. That was so much fun."
"Thank you for being here, Cynthia. I haven't enjoyed myself this much in ages."
They were silent for a moment. He turned toward her and bent his head. She leaned in, slightly. "May I ask you something?" he whispered.
She nodded.
"I guess you must have a steady boyfriend, but I don't see a ring on your finger. Uh... maybe this is presumptuous of me, but..."
"Not at all, ask any question." She turned toward him.
"Well, are you really in love with Dan?"
"I think..."
He placed a finger on her mouth to stop her.
"Don't say it," he said. "Let me just ask this, instead: do you like me, I mean, even a little bit?"
"Yes."
"Good, because, Cynthia--and I don't even know your last name--and I just met you--I can't explain it, Cynthia, but, I like you. I like you a whole lot."
She gazed into his eyes and leaned a fraction of an inch closer. Their bodies fit perfectly.
He took her shoulders in his hands and bent his head toward hers, ever so slowly. Finally he just barely teased her lips with his, and then he pulled back and looked at her questioningly. She raised her head toward his and slightly parted her lips. Taking that as a "Yes" he gathered her close and kissed her thoroughly.
(This Section Omitted, Rated R)
(End R Rated Section.)
In time, he felt the need to make a wise crack. "There's something I want you to know, Cynthia."
"Mmm."
"I never allow a kiss on a first date."
She giggled.
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