When We Were Married Ch. 06B

"First. Yeah, any male with normal hormones and equipment would like to be with her. But she doesn't go out with every male who wants her. Secondly, why the hell do you think? Most women don't like chasing men. You think she does? Somebody that looks like her doesn't want to chase a man. And lastly..."

He gave me a small smile.

"And lastly, things aren't always the way they seem. Think about it."

He walked out the door leaving me with my mouth gaping open. Before I'd had the chance to do more than shut it, he stuck his head back in and said, "By the way, how about letting Chambers and Hennessy handle the day to day stuff for the rest of the week while you focus on doing as many media interviews as you can humanly fit into your schedule. At least for the rest of the week. You're hotter than hot right now. Let's strike while the iron is hot and get those television, radio and newspaper interviews done, AND, be sure to mention how the driving force behind the office, the guy who pushes you to chase these bad guys, is Austin C. Edwards. Okay?"

I just grinned at him. Why in the hell he wanted the headache and aggravation of the public spotlight and the demands of public life I'd never understand. But if it made him happy...

"You got it boss."

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SEPTEMBER 27, 2005 - 3P.M.

I walked up to the desk in front of Austin Edwards' office with feelings I'd never had before on that walk. She looked up from a document and smiled.

"Good morning, Mr. Maitland, or should I say, Mr. Angel...."

"Don't say that Myra."

The smile vanished.

"I'm sorry Bill. I heard about that policeman. I shouldn't have tried to joke about people dying. I just thought...."

"It's okay, Myra. Everyone can't walk around in sackcloth and ashes forever. It's the past. I'm just glad I'm standing here right now. I might not be anywhere."

"I'm glad you're here and...Mr. Edwards said you guys have...you're going to stay on."

"For the foreseeable future."

She looked at his office door.

"I don't have you down to see him. You want me to call or you could just go in."

"I didn't come to see him."

It only took her a second, then her smile changed.

"Then why are you here?"

"I generally take a coffee break at Starbucks about this time of day. Is there any chance you could take off for a few minutes and let me buy you a Cappuccino or something? You do like coffee, right?"

The smile vanished and something that was almost a smile flickered on her perfect lips.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"We worked together for more than seven years and you've never offered to buy me coffee before, much less a Cappuccino."

"For most of that time I was married. Might look bad, a married man taking the hottest woman in Jacksonville down for coffee, much less a Cappuccino."

"The hottest woman in Jacksonville?"

"Alright, Northeast Florida."

She took a deep breath and I marveled.

"Why now?"

I took a moment.

"I'm divorced and free. No entanglements. There's nothing wrong with a single man asking a single lady to have a coffee with him."

"No entanglements?"

"None at all and why, if I may ask, am I getting the fifth degree about a Cappuccino?"

She took another deep breath and watched me as I watched her.

"A woman has to be careful who she goes out with -- even for something as simple as a cup of coffee. Something simple can change your life."

I tore my eyes away from her bosom.

"Well, I understand that. It's okay. If you're busy we can do it another-"

"I'm free. Let me buzz Mr. Edwards and let him know I'll be out for 15 to 30 minutes."

We went down the elevator and out to Starbucks, running the gauntlet of amazed stares. Nobody but Austin Edwards was ever seen with Myra Martinez in the courthouse, much less a man in black with a bandaged head. I tried to walk behind her a little because her movement was a symphony.

We had three people in front of us but the male barista on the left hand side of the counter somehow maneuvered to wait on Myra before anyone else and grudgingly took my order as well.

There were only five stand-alone tables for the Starbucks crowd and they were all occupied but, as we stood with our Cappuccinos, four young men at the nearest table decided they had business elsewhere, motioning to Myra that she could have their table. They got up but it took them a long time to leave the area.

"I wonder what it must be like to be you?"

She looked beyond me and I saw Debbie standing with Dennis Leary and a female PD across the entrance to the courthouse. Leary was staring at us, trying his best to conceal a smile and Debbie followed his gaze to our table.

"You lived with someone like me for 20 years. You ought to know what my life is like, except I haven't had anybody like you in my life."

A parade of emotions ran across Debbie's face, Leary said something to her and she shook her head and started walking toward us.

Myra just smiled sweetly.

"Hello Bill. Ms. Martinez."

"Hello Ms. Bascomb. You're looking very, professional, today. I admire a woman who knows how to - mute - her female assets for her job."

"I'm sure you do. You might think about it yourself - just a suggestion. Bill, I'm glad to see you're feeling better. Has Aline called you since Saturday. I thought it was very touching when you told her you still loved her in the hospital. Don't you feel a little guilty about keeping the poor girl hanging like that?'

"Not that it's any concern of yours anymore, but I haven't talked to her, Debbie. And yes, I'm feeling better. Thank you for your concern."

Leary walked up behind her and tapped her on the arm.

"Ms. Bascomb, we have that meeting upstairs. I don't want to rush you, but..."

"You're right, Dennis," she said, turning and running her hand down his arm and giving him a smile that should have roused erections for miles around. "Thank you for reminding me."

She looked back at Myra and I and said, "Well, have a good day, both of you. I'm going to."

She walked away ostentatiously twitching and Leary looked back at me and winked, then followed her.

"She is so damned jealous she could spit," Myra said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have deliberately antagonized her like that."

"If she's going to work around here and stay under my ass, she's going to get used to seeing me with other women. Speaking of which, what about the Big Man?'

"What about him?"

"I don't understand what's going on. I thought you and he..."

"Have I asked you about Aline? Or that policewoman?"

"No, and there's nothing going on with Aline, if you're interested. She's back with her husband and son. I don't expect to ever see her again. But, I thought, everyone thinks....."

"That I'm his private brand?"

"More or less."

"What I do, and have done, in my personal life is just that - personal. But the fact that everyone thinks we are an item cuts down on the distractions. I don't have to spend half my time fending off every horny attorney and cop in the downtown area. If there's somebody I like, I see them away from here."

"Well, I'm glad to know you haven't been a nun."

"Not quite," and she grinned.

She picked up her Cappuccino and sipped. I did too and because as usual mine was mostly foam, I had a milk mustache when I put it down. Before I could move she leaned forward and ran her finger along my upper lip, collected the foam, popped the foam and her finger in her mouth, and licked it off.

I just stared at her and wondered if I'd be able to get up and return to my office in less than a couple of hours without starting all kinds of rumors.

"You shouldn't do things like that."

"I didn't want that delicious foam to go to waste."

"Don't be offended, but I'm not going to be able to stand up anytime soon."

"I'd be disappointed if you could."

"I know we're just flirting here but, Bill, I just wanted you to know up front, this is just playing. I'm not a wham bam kind of girl. I like to know guys before...anything happens."

"You don't know me after seven years? Not that I have anything against going slow."

"I know the office Bill, Mr. Maitland, the Ice Man. I'd like to know the other you."

"That works for me. The next couple of weeks are going to be hectic, anyway. Austin has me lined up for media interviews all week and I'm actually going out of town for a couple of days. And next week won't be too much better. He says we have to strike while the iron is hot, that we may never have this much media exposure again. So..."

"So why today?"

"I just wanted to let you know I'd like to see you when time permits. My life has been a roller coaster the last eight months. I don't know from one day to the next what's going to happen, but I don't want to lose the chance...to ...get to know you away from the office."

"Take another deep drink," she said, pointing to my Cappuccino.

I had no idea why, but I did. When she used her finger again to stroke the foam from my lip and work the finger in and out of her mouth with sucking sounds and a few sighs of enjoyment, I had to fight to avoid making a mess in my pants.

She took the finger she'd been sucking like a professional porn actress and rubbed it against my lip.

"We're going to take it slow, but I just wanted to let you know it will be worth your while when we do get to know each other."

'I never had any doubt," I said as I looked around and tried to think of the dullest book I'd ever read to make it possible for me to get up from the table and walk her back to her desk.

###############################

October 1, 2005 -- 11:55 p.m.

"oooohhhhhhh..." she said, letting out a long shuddering breath. She lay against him, her breasts flattening against his chest, feeling his hard maleness beginning to soften.

"That was nice," he said, laughing.

"Only nice?"

"On a scale of 1 to 10 in niceness, that was a 200," he said, catching her lips with his and she let their tongues tangle for a minute. Then, as he was sliding out of her, she let herself fall to his side and rested there comfortably. They hadn't been together that long, but already he felt comfortable and - safe. That was the only way to describe it. She felt like she'd known him a lot longer than the brief period since that first day at UNF.

He wasn't Doug. Hell, she wondered if Doug had even been human. She sometimes thought looking back that he must have been half Satyr. He could go and go and go. She had sometimes thought he would literally fuck her out of her mind. But Clint Abbott was...

She kissed the side of his jaw and he glanced over at her with a small smile. He'd never have been able to read her mind but, while he wasn't Doug, he was a nice guy with a really, good, hard cock and he knew how to use it. He wasn't superman, but he was a good, hard man. Like the song said, they were hard to find, and harder to hold onto.

"Have I told you lately how glad I am I bumped into you that day?" she asked, licking his face and ending up tangling tongues again.

"Likewise, Debbie Bascomb."

He ran a hand down to her breast, hefted it in his and let the flesh run through his fingers, squeezing the nipple as it filled and milking a groan out of her.

"You ready for another round? Keep that up and I will be."

He reached down and pulled his limp, wet cock up, then let it fall against his stomach.

"Hell no, you'll have to call in reinforcements."

She gave him a glance without thinking and he just shook his head and kissed her.

"I was teasing, Deb, teasing. Someday you're going to have to stop being so sensitive about it, The day will come when you and Doug and Bill will be old news, old gossip, and no one will care anymore. The Scarlet 'A' will fade."

She buried her face against his chest. Her emotions were all over the place. Bill's near death experience had stirred up memories and feelings that had been strangers to her for years. It hadn't made her fall back in love with him. There was still too much anger there. And seeing him flirting with that fucking cow at the Starbucks had left her pissed for the rest of the day.

But it had reminded her of why she'd loved him in the first place.

More than anything else, she felt sorrow. Sorrow that they'd both changed so much, lost what they had had long ago.

She wondered if she'd ever have that again. Clint was...Clint was a friend, a good guy, a man she admired and liked, but there was no fiery, burning love. Not what she'd had with Bill in college and after. She had never for a second felt for Clint what she'd felt in Bill's bed in that shabby apartment the first night they'd fucked.

Lying there naked, her skin against his, caressing the cast of his mangled right hand, she'd felt like someone who'd been blind from birth and suddenly could see. After months of being friends, of spending hours and hours with him, he had suddenly become a stranger.

She had looked over at his familiar face, the half smile on his lips, and felt an emotion she could only guess at. It felt like what she'd known as love, but it was different. And it was only when he opened his eyes and smiled at her, and she felt a fear she'd never experienced before, that she realized for the first time what real love felt like.

She had never really cared about guys before. They came and they went. New ones would always come along and the bittersweet pain of crushes was enjoyable, coming and going. But this was....she realized this boy could hurt her. Hurt her more than she'd ever been hurt before.

Her first impulse was to roll out of the bed and get away from him, get the hell out of there and find two or three or more guys to fuck. To fuck and suck and fuck again until she forgot all about this night.

But when he reached for her, she went to him.

Clint brought her back to the present by rolling away from her and sitting up on the side of the bed.

"I need a beer. You've dehydrated me, woman. You want some wine, or a beer?"

"Wine will do."

When he came back he handed her a glass of white wine and sat down naked and cross-legged on the bed.

"You going to spend the night?"

"I should probably go home. I have some things I need to do to get ready for Monday. Kelly is at my mom's and BJ is with friends, as usual, but I should go home."

He sighed theatrically.

"I know. I'm just a piece of meat to you. You use me and then want to spend the night in your own bed. It's so degrading."

She reached over and grabbed his limp cock, squeezing it and finding a sudden tension but then it went soft again. Hell, he'd cum twice in the last several hours and he was in his 40s. She was amazed she'd left him with any life in it.

"And that's a prime piece of meat, my friend, no doubt about it. But I don't want to break it. Besides, there will be plenty of other times when I'll be happy to abuse and degrade you. Trust me."

He gave her an odd look.

"Actually..."

She thought about it for a second.

"Don't tell me. Are you breaking up with me? You've bedded the campus sex symbol and now you're moving on?"

He took a sip of his beer and looked her square in the eyes.

"I'm not breaking up with you, but I am moving on."

"What are you talking about?"

He put the beer down on the side table and slid down to lie beside her.

"I was planning on telling you, but you were so fucking hot tonight, as you always are, that I just - put it off. I'm taking an early leave from my contract with the university. It was going to expire in April anyway, but my contract was written so either side could break it without penalty. I'll inform the university on Monday and they should be able to get a lecturer in to replace me for the rest of the six months or so left on the contract. There are always writers who want a place to hang their hat and a regular paycheck for awhile."

"But why?"

"Something's come up."

"Just like that - something's come up?"

"You know I alternate between fiction and freelancing articles. Well, about two weeks ago the company that has given me a fair number of longer freelance articles contacted me about another assignment."

"You couldn't wait until your contract expires? You told me once there are always new assignments coming along. You've got a good reputation and you're not hurting for cash. Why this one? And why give up a cushy writer in residence assignment?"

"Not for this one."

In answer to her unspoken question, he said, "There's not a lot of time to waste on this one and it could mean really big bucks. There's this little piece of hell tucked away in central Africa. It's claimed by two or three countries. There are some mineral rights, some diamonds, maybe some oil. There are three or four government armies and about a half dozen private armies tangling with each other on any given day."

"The worst of the worst, they say, is a local warlord. Some say he's a former French mercenary, others that he's a Brit. Whatever, he's a son of a bitch. They say he eats babies, but that's probably just propaganda he puts out. For sure, his favorite execution method is tying a man's hands and putting him over a sharp pointed spike anchored in the ground. The point of the spike is....aimed right at the...asshole. It's high enough that you can't touch the ground with your feet. You can try to hold yourself up with your hands, or use your thigh muscles to keep a grip on the stake. But eventually gravity does its dirty work."

"Oh, God."

"Exactly. He's covered whole fields with dozens, some say hundreds, of men -- and women -- planted on those spikes. A real class act."

"But what does that have to do with you?"

"Here's where the story gets interesting. As you might expect, the poor bastards who live in this little corner of hell have been human fodder for every gang of marauders passing through. They eat the locals' food, rape their women, and enlist their men and boys in their armies. Like something out of the 12th century. Naturally, the local residents are sheep. Their resistance was broken a long time ago."

"Until a couple of years ago. Stories started coming out about this Saint who had shown up out of nowhere. The people are primarily Roman Catholic going back to the 17th and 18th centuries when Catholic missionaries were active in the area. The stories said this Saint, a woman, could heal the sick, raise the dead, calm storms. All the typical Saint-type stunts. But - and this is where it gets good - they said that wherever she passed, flowers bloomed. Whole gardens of beautiful flowers. Now that's something you don't hear about too often."

Debbie just stared at him.

"You believe this? Flowers grow where this woman walks? Sounds like something out of a fairy tale."

Clint rubbed his hands and took a chug of his beer.

"Of course. Can't be true, but the people there believe the stories. They believe it enough that they've started resisting the top warlord and the other asshole mercenaries working the area. They're refusing to cooperate, killing mercenaries who get caught away from their buddies. They're letting themselves be tortured and killed rather than give any information about the resistance.

"It's driving the tough guys crazy. Nobody's ever stood up to them, and then this WOMAN of all things shows up and suddenly the natives develop backbones. So every army there has a bounty on the head of the woman they're all calling 'The Saint of the Flowers'."

"What does all this have to --"

He just looked at her and she knew.

"No."

She sat up and without realizing what she was doing slapped the beer bottle and it sailed across the room spraying beer in its wake. She swung at his face with a open palm and he barely caught it.

"Debbie..."

"Damn you, Clint Abbott. You stupid bastard. Is every man in the world a motherfucking moron with a death wish?"