––––––––
Susan wiped up the stray nuts and stickiness from the McDonald's table. She shoved the napkin and spoon into the more or less empty sundae cup and scurried over to the trash can. Pushing the lid open with the edge of her hand, she dropped the trash. Johnny was refilling their sodas at the self-serve fountain, waiting for the foam to go down so he could top them off.
Susan sidled up to him as she clamped the lid firmly onto her cup. He squirted another shot of Diet Coke into his, snapped on a fresh lid, then blew his straw paper at her. It landed on top of her head. She didn't notice. He grinned and opened the door. They stepped out into the evening rush of workers and joined their eager cadence.
Johnny asked, "So, what now?"
Susan sucked Coke through the straw. She had to speak loudly over the noise of the city. "Well, I feel like it would be proper to be there at the hospital when they finish the surgery and make the announcement. Just in case something goes wrong and they need a new donor..."
Johnny slid his arm around Susan. "Sure. Of course. Yes indeed." He silently prayed things would go perfectly and no way would Susan donate her liver. Plus, that would be horrific on the little boy, if he had to endure two implant surgeries.
At the corner they waited to cross the street. A tow truck making a right on red nearly grazed the woman in front of them. Johnny grabbed onto Susan's wrist and hurried her across the boulevard.
Susan asked, "What if Melody isn't at the hospital?"
"I doubt she will be, honey. If she hasn't come by now, I don't think she will."
"But I was so sure Melody would be first in line to volunteer her liver. You don't know what a crush she had on Mister Wright. She got into so much trouble with my mom, but she kept on sneaking out to catch a glimpse of him. It was like they were in love. Well, I'm sure Melody was. But of course he wasn't. She was just a little teenager. He had all the grown women he wanted back then. Models and singers and...and a doctor. He married her. Gee, poor Mrs. Wright. I wonder how she's holding up through all this? I heard she's pregnant again."
"Tell me about the last time you saw your cousin."
Susan shuddered. "Not since she got married. Three years ago. Brandon and I..." It felt awkward talking about Brandon in front of Johnny now. She worried about hurting his feelings if she kept bringing up her life with her late husband.
Johnny said, "It's okay, sweetheart. Tell me."
"We went to their wedding in one of those drive-through ceremonies. It was awful, but that's what they wanted."
"In Las Vegas?"
"Yep."
"We lost close contact. It got to the point we were only calling at Christmastime." Susan felt so sad. "Anyhow, I sent her a birthday card in July. One of those lovely sister kind of cards. Because she really is like my sister, not just a cousin. Mom raised us together, until..."
"Until the fire, when Brandon rescued you. It's okay, sweetheart, you can talk about him." Johnny squeezed her hand.
Susan squeezed back. "Anyhow, in August, I got the card returned to me. By that smarmy Oliver."
"Oliver?"
"The pimply faced mailman. Melody and I went through school with him."
"So your card came back."
"Her husband, Zander, a.k.a. Mr. Sickly Sweet, as Brandon called him, had written deceased, return to sender on the envelope.
"How do you know Zander did it?"
"Because I called him. He said Melody disappeared without a trace. Went out for Chinese but never came back."
Johnny stopped walking. He turned to face Susan. "Honey, have you let yourself consider the possibility that Melody might be...dead?"
"No! And I have proof. She sent me a package. I just got it on the day after Thanksgiving. A penguin statue. She always gives me penguins. Since I was a little girl, because they're my favorite animal."
"Really?"
Susan nodded. "Anyhow, there was a Mister Wright CD in the package. That's what started this whole idea leading me to believe that she might be near him."
"Well, let's go to Vegas, then. We'll confront the husband and if he won't tell us, then we'll do some gumshoe work. How 'bout it, Nancy Drew?" He grinned and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.
"Nancy Drew?" Susan giggled. "Can you take that much time off from work?"
"Not really. But hey, it's just a job."
"Just a job? You said it was your calling. Johnny, you be careful about that. I don't want you getting into trouble with the chief because of me."
Johnny would get in trouble with the Pope if it meant pleasing Susan.
* * * *
Johnny said, "Well, I guess we should think about turning in for the night." He tugged the shirt tail out of his jeans and unbuttoned it.
"Yeah, you're right." Susan carried her tapestry overnight bag into the bathroom.
Johnny turned the lights out and flung the covers back. He left the curtains open again, for shadowy nuance. He tried three different poses before he felt comfortable stretched out in his teal briefs. He adjusted and stroked his bulge. Had to make a big first impression on his dream girl. He pulled his hand back just as Susan emerged, wearing her full length, long sleeved pink flannel nightgown.
She walked over to him and said, "Well, night-night. Thanks for—"
He yanked her down onto his bed. And he kissed her. On the lips. Between the lips. Inside the lips. He licked her teeth and surrounded her palate.
She surrendered to her new lover, eagerly following his lead. His hand slid down her leg and began hoisting her gown up. She stopped him. He pulled back and looked at her.
"What's wrong?" He panted.
"Can we wait...like five days?"
"Five days?"
"I just started. And I'd really like our first time to be...to be fresh."
He flopped his head down to the pillow. "Sure. Okay, whatever. I've waited six years—"
"Hey, I've been wanting you, too. Just not for six years. And I haven't been with a man since—"
"Can you not talk about him when you're in my bed?"
"Sorry."
He let out a huge breath. "It's all right. I'm sorry. You wanna cuddle?"
"Sure. I love cuddling."
"Roll over."
She turned on her side and looked out the window. "Great view."
He rolled behind her and pulled her against him. She trembled.
His throbbing cock was bent nearly in half, imprisoned in the briefs. He yanked the pillow from under his head and positioned it between their bodies. In a quiet voice he said, "Goodnight, sweetheart."
"Night-night."
She fluffed the sheet and blanket up over them.
* * * *
They talked to the same lady cop that had let them in for their appointment the day before. She permitted them entrance into Bush General Hospital and they stood outside the conference room door. Only the press was allowed inside. Penelope, Cookies Crumble, Rose, her Grandma and some creepy looking fat guy soon joined them. Well, they didn't exactly join them, rather they shoved up near Susan and Johnny.
Susan listened through the door crack. "Hey, everybody, I can hear Mister Wright and the doctor talking."
Johnny stuck his ear to the door. The others went back to their huddled whispers, cameras ready.
They stepped back quickly as a reporter opened the door. Susan saw Mister Wright leaving the podium.
He stopped and pointed to her. His security crew shook their heads negatively. Mister Wright shoved them aside. "She's all right. I know Susan," he told them as he made his way out.
"Hello, darlin'." Mister Wright took her hand. "It means the world to me that you came. My little boy is gonna be all right. Everything went better than textbook." He lowered his voice. "Have you seen, um...?"
"No, not yet. I'll have her call you as soon as I find her. Promise you'll do the same?"
"Absolutely."
Susan glanced at the zoo behind her. She turned back to Mister Wright and said, "I'll let you greet some more fans."
She and Johnny fought their way out of the knot of bodies. Susan looked back. She watched Grandma handing Mister Wright her false teeth. The look on his face was sheer horror.
Grandma dropped to her knees and unzipped Mister Wright's trousers. He screamed. A hospital security guard slammed Grandma to the floor, while a uniformed Texas Ranger whisked Mister Wright away.
* * * *
That night in the hotel, Susan lay gazing toward the open drapes. An amber glow rose from the street eight floors down. City lights reminded her of the graphic equalizer on her stereo. Except they didn't flash and dance to a tune. She turned her attention across the room, where Johnny's cell phone glowed red while the battery recharged on the desk. Shadows like fly wings radiated out on the ceiling.
She heard his breathing even out. Johnny had stopped stroking her hair. He must have been sleeping. She tried to process, appreciate, and just plain enjoy the gift of friendship Johnny had bestowed upon her. And soon he would become her lover. Momma had told her that a man needed a woman and a woman needed a man. It was the natural way of life and necessary for survival of the species.
Susan lingered on thoughts of Johnny's kisses. Amazingly different from Brandon's...or any other boy she'd kissed before. Different and, well...excellent. She wondered what his lovemaking would be like. Of course, there were only so many ways to insert tab A into slot B. But it's all in the execution. Would he be in a hurry, or so slow she'd lose the feeling? What if he was too small get the job done? She remembered the comment about that big blond guy: maybe Johnny wasn't very well equipped. Things would be so awkward. Maybe she shouldn't enter into a love affair with her pal.
He was the best friend she'd ever had. Why should she jeopardize that? It could all be over with in a few minutes if they weren't compatible in bed. Really, she only needed two things: a companion she could count on and a lover. She didn't need a husband, a soul mate. Been there, done that. She didn't want to lose another. And Johnny was a firefighter, the same occupation that murdered her husband. Susan drifted off to sleep.
* * * *
Johnny lay smiling in the dark. His dream had finally come true. Six years ago, he'd fallen into love at first site. With a forbidden fire. In his fantasies, he rode in on his white horse and swept her away from him. Brandon. In those Technicolor dreams, the fair maiden Susan always chose Johnny over her husband.
And so many times he'd have a girl...or two, in his bed. Nice girls. Naughty girls. Really bad girls. But when the lights went out and he closed his eyes, it was Susan he kissed.
Johnny wondered where they should live. His place was spacious, new, and there was a school close by. Elementary. If Susan wanted, she could get a job teaching there. But with his shift work, he'd be home alone a lot during the days. No, he didn't want his wife working. He wanted to come home every morning and evening to Susan, waiting with open arms...and legs. Morning glory. Afternoon delight. Midnight at the oasis.
Johnny pondered living at her place. The ghost of Brandon didn't bother him. But what if the constant memories of Brandon in that house upset Susan? But he was finishing off the basement. That was his mark on the house. And she really was pleased with his workmanship. That last year of high school, when his technical education class built a house from the blueprints up, well that was the best thing he learned from kindergarten through college. He got to rotate through all of the building trades.
He concluded it would be better if they lived in his house. Money was going to be tight, though, once the babies arrived. She would be a great mother. He needed to take her to Tiffany's as soon as they got home.
* * * *
Susan woke to music. The tune was familiar. Yeah. The Bee Gees. Wait..."Stayin' Alive". The Bee Gees are here. She also heard water running. Opening her eyes, she realized she was in the hotel. The midi music emanated from the floor somewhere. It wouldn't stop. She stumbled out of bed and over to the pile of Johnny's clothes and picked up his jeans. She dug his cell phone out of the pocket and flipped the top up. The music stopped. "Hello...um...Johnny Newman's jeans. May I help you?"
"I need to speak to Firefighter Newman."
"One moment please." Susan looked around. She saw the light from under the bathroom door. She walked over and knocked. "Johnny?" She knocked again. No answer. She told the caller, "He's busy right now, may I take a message?"
The caller barked, "This is Captain Jackson at Ladder Ten. I need to speak with Firefighter Newman now."
"Yes, sir." Susan took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. Steam rushed out. "Johnny?" She stepped inside.
He yanked the off-white shower curtain back. "Good mornin', sweetheart."
Susan stood like a rabbit in the headlights. He was naked. Wet. Muscular. Very well endowed. White suds ran down his glistening body, from his head to his inner thigh.
Johnny smiled. "Come on in. I'll wash your back and front for ya."
Susan inhaled the steamy soap.
Johnny said, "Come on. Take your nightgown off. Here, wait, I'll do it." He stepped out of the tub/shower combination. Water splashed on her.
"No. Here. Telephone for you. Captain somebody or other. Demanded to talk to you."
Johnny grabbed the phone. "Firefighter Newman...yep... yes sir...I'm in Texas...I know...I'll be on the next flight...as soon as I can. Affirmative, Cap'." He flipped the lid on the phone and tossed it onto the gray marble vanity. It slid into the sink and took a swirl around, settling on the chrome stopper.
Susan couldn't stop her head from bobbing up and down. She looked him over from head to toe and toe to head and...oh, my goodness. Picture dictionary of life, entry: man. Picture: Johnny Newman. Penis: springing to attention.
He kissed her. She felt the cold water dripping from his body as he pulled her close. Her nipples hardened as he grabbed a breast in each hand and gyrated against her.
She thrust her breasts closer, moaned, then shoved him away. "Not yet. Please?"
He throatily begged, "Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know you want me. And just look at what I've got for you. Just for you." He looked down proudly and positioned her hand on his throbbing erection.
Susan's eyes took in the whole magnificent package. She stroked the hot hard smooth skin and petted the plum tip. Then pulled away. "No. Not like...I can't yet." She hurried out of the bathroom.
Disappointed, yet reeling from her touch, Johnny called out. "I'll wait for you. It's all right. Listen, I've been called back to duty. We need to take the next flight home. Start packing."
Susan stood at her suitcase, staring. She knew she should be doing something, but her brain couldn't process what it was.
* * * *
Johnny said, "You know, I don't mind..."
She turned and looked at him. He had walked into the bedroom. He'd gelled his hair and had wrapped a thick white towel around his waist. Johnny yanked the covers back, onto the floor. He whipped the towel off and spread it on the bed. He beckoned her with his hand. "Here, we won't get any blood on the sheets. I'll even dispose of the towel and pay for it if you want."
Susan couldn't take her eyes off of the most exquisite thing she'd ever seen.
He flexed it.
Susan felt a gush of moisture wash over her, down there. She retrieved her suitcase and hustled off to the bathroom. "No. Not yet."
Susan turned the shower on hot and stepped under the spray. She dialed the massage shower head, enjoying each new pelting pattern. The small white bar of soap required lots of dexterity all over her body to efficiently cleanse it.
* * * *
Johnny placed his suitcase by the door and paced the room, sipping from a Styrofoam cup. He plopped down in an upholstered chair set caddy cornered near the window. He stared at the moss green, rust, and cream threads woven into a small geometric print, set on the diagonal. He stood and drained the last drop of coffee, then wended over to the small waste basket and dropped the cup.
Sitting in the rust-colored upholstered desk chair, Johnny leaned back and twirled around and around and around. He stopped and read the instruction card on the desk, telling him to plug his laptop into the receptacle on the lamp base for high speed Internet access, for only $11.95 each day. As if he would be bothered with lugging a stupid computer on this trip, or any trip with Susan. He'd be much too busy turning on her circuits through his darkest desires.
Something on the textured rust and brown rug caught his eye, just under the side corner of the armoire. A goldfish cracker. No, wait. Cheese popcorn. Somebody must've gotten one of those yummy three variety tins for Christmas. Butter, caramel, and cheese.
Johnny studied the room. He never wanted to forget this place. Sunlight beamed in through the window. It highlighted white sugary dust on the black inlay of the coffee bar. He thought it was a waste of floor space since it was free in the lobby and they had real cream.
Three pictures hung in the room. One on a long wall near the thermostat. Abstract. A sparse rolling meadow in blue, purple, and sage. He could do better. The one over the coffee bar was more detailed, an autumn scene overlooking a valley of water. The small vertical print over the desk was nice. Blueprints of the hotel, then and now. It was built in the thirties.
Hey, in the thirties he wouldn't have been able to have a girl in his room. Wondering what they did then, he grinned. Same as he was about to do now. His mind descended into his trousers. Somebody was waking up down there.
The smoke detector resembled a Heffalump's snout from Winnie the Pooh. To the right, a horizontal sprinkler head appeared adequate. Another one was placed on the ceiling outside the bathroom entrance.
He wanted Susan to hurry up and slip into something a little more comfortable. Johnny lapsed into his recurring sexual daydream. He'd practiced and mastered portions of it over the years with other women. But there were things he yearned to do that he couldn't rehearse with other girls, because Susan was the only woman pure enough for his darkest fantasies...which would become her darkest pleasures as soon as she was ready. He would get high on her ecstasy. She would pour it all over him. Only him...
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, recalling the touch of her firm breasts through the soft flannel. Her nipples felt perfect. The fabric was too thick, he couldn't judge how big her areolas were. Or what color. Pink? Brown? Rosy? The touch memory of her soft little hand on his big fat cock sent Johnny's hand heading for his crotch.
He heard the bathroom door squeak. He opened his eyes and aborted the move.
Susan emerged. Fully clothed, in winter white corduroys and a winter white sweater, with pink and green embroidery down the sleeves.
Johnny quickly calculated. She wasn't ready to make love with him yet. She was on her period. He could respect that and understand she needed to feel comfortable and confident, even though it didn't bother him. Not Susan. Never. She had led him to believe both in words and actions that she did want to make love with him and that she intended to. They even set a date. But he had an angry hard on. He wondered what she'd do if he jerked off in front of her. Oh, would he love her to watch him. He wanted to tangle it in her long black hair. Give her a crème rinse no salon could provide. She might even catch the come with her tongue...
"Johnny, come on. We've got a plane to catch."
So much for his daydream.
She said, "Nice shower in there."
He boasted, "I could've done much better."
She gave him a Mona Lisa smile. He handed her a cup of coffee.
He asked, "Is your suitcase all ready?"
"Yeah, why? Do we have to leave right now?"
"The terror alert level's been raised. My whole shift has been called back."
"So what happens if you don't go?"
"Oh, there'll be a hearing and stuff and then I'll no longer be employed."
"Oh." She looked serious. "Well, let's get to the airport. Did you check under the beds?"
Johnny yanked back the covers on both beds, fluffing through them. He got down on his knees and surveyed underneath. Susan enjoyed seeing him in that position. She could see the outline of his family jewels hanging down below his rear end. She wondered how much longer could she hold out. And why should she? They were both single, consenting adults. Oh, did she want to consent.
He picked her wedding ring up off of the nightstand and handed it to her. She grabbed it and dropped it into her purse.
He asked, "How's the coffee?"
"Huh? Oh, I haven't tasted it yet." She removed the lid and blew on the cloudy swirls. She tasted a tiny sip. Warm, sweet, and creamy smooth. "Needs a little salt."
"What?" He was a little unnerved that she had read his mind. It was a double entendre, had to be.
She cocked her head to the side and grinned at him.
He fired right back, "You won't get a taste of that for awhile. That's pure selfish pleasure for me. You, sweetheart, will receive your delectation first. I have big plans for you." He grabbed her hair, pulling her close. Johnny whispered above her lips, "I was made to pleasure you..." He released her and stepped back.
She exhaled disappointedly. They picked up their bags and left the room.