David Takes a Vacation

Master PC: David Takes a Vacation

At the urging of my assistant, Julia, I decided to take a vacation. I own points in a resort system, and it seemed likely that a couple of weeks in Florida's sunshine would do me no harm.

"Who knows, boss," Julia said, laughing, "maybe you'll get laid."

So, that was how I had come to be strolling through the gate to the "quiet pool" at the Tuscany Village in Orlando. I had a copy of the third volume of "The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant" in one hand and a bottle of sun block in the other. Back home it was cold and gray, but in Orlando the weather was delightful – bright sunshine and 80 degrees. I was content, even though I hadn't had any sex for three days. Sunlight always has a positive effect on me.

I had mostly avoided trying to save the world with my techno-magical software, the Master PC – once you start, where do you stop? Oh I'd helped the local police, and improved the lives of my immediate family members. And, yes, I had intervened in Crystal's life; played the Good Samaritan; set her on a whole new (positive) path. Then she'd shown up at my office one day asking some very perceptive, not to mention dangerous, questions. I resolved, on the spot, after deflecting those questions, to restrain my more altruistic impulses in the future. After all, no good deed goes unpunished.

But my resolve evaporated when I spotted the stunningly beautiful brunette at the pool. She was pretty, looked mid-to-late 50's and in marvelous shape (an older version of Anita Dark only brunette). Killer smile. Beautiful eyes. And a tremor. The signs of Parkinson's Disease were there to see for anyone who knew what to look for. In spite of the subtle signs of a serious illness I was instantly attracted to her. I love all women, but my preference tends toward physical and mental maturity – even more so than pure looks. This lady was very well groomed, obviously spent serious gym time, and I was, as I said, immediately taken with her.

I selected a lounge chair near, but not too near the lovely but so far anonymous brunette, and, under the cover of sun glasses, conducted surveillance. No children (grand children?) nearby, no husband or boyfriend in evidence, no wedding band visible, although there were other rings on her well manicured fingers. She appeared to be alone. She was reading Michio Kaku's "Physics of the Future" and had apparently just seen something amusing. My attraction meter kicked up another few points. And, I liked her smile.

I ran through and rejected a number of scenarios that might result in my obtaining her name. I decided to be patient and watch for an opening, trusting that some strategy or other would occur when the moment was right. Thanks to the inevitability of narrative causality, I didn't have to wait long.

The object of my affection, or at least my attention, closed her book and got up. As she walked in my direction the toe of her sandal caught on a minor imperfection in the stonework around the pool, and she tripped, falling directly across my body.

"Oh!"

My lightning like reflexes, enhanced a thousand fold by the Master PC, enabled me to catch the woman before she tumbled to the flagstones.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she said, embarrassed.

"No problem. Having a beautiful woman fall into his lap would represent the high point of any man's day," I responded with a warm smile, gently helping her to stand up.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"Yes, I think so. Just clumsy I guess," she said.

I put out my hand, which she took.

"David Donaldson, rescuer of maidens in distress, at your service," I said with a little bow.

"Amy Lucella," she replied, withdrawing her hand quickly. She was suddenly very self conscious and I knew why.

"You must have caught the front edge of your sandal on one of the joints between the flagstones," I said, pointing down at the pavement and steering the conversation away from the awkward reef it was about to strike.

"Good thing you were here to catch me then," Amy said with a shy smile.

"I live to serve," I said, making another small bow. "I'm going for a swim. Care to join me?"

"Oh, that would be nice, but I have a massage appointment and I'm going to be late if I don't get going," Amy said.

"I'm sure to be here tomorrow if you care to drop in on me again," I said.

"I'll remember that," Amy laughed over her shoulder as she walked away.

I went into the pool, swam about two dozen laps, got out, dried off, and returned to my condo. During my lap swim I'd been doing some serious thinking. By the time I reached my unit, my mind was made up. I was going to do something nice for someone, but limit the interference to the health related issues only.

I fired up my laptop, put on some clean clothes, grabbed a soda from the fridge, and prepared to go to work. Calling up the Master PC program, I quickly had an image of Amy Lucella revolving slowly in front of me. Seconds later, I had an inventory of her ailments, including the Parkinson's. With a few key strokes and the click of a mouse button or two, those were taken care of. It was tempting to make a few other adjustments/improvements while I was at it. But I had made my decision and stuck with it. I shut down the program and picked up the phone.

"Front desk? This is David Donaldson in 4715, would you please connect me to Miss Amy Lucella? Thanks."

I heard a few clicks and then got voice mail for Amy's room.

"This is Amy Lucella. Please leave a message after the beep."

BEEP

"Hi Amy. David Donaldson here – we met at the pool this afternoon – I was wondering if you were free for dinner tonight. I know it seems a bit forward, but I'm at this resort all alone and meals for one are boring, even if you have a good book. I'm in 4715 if you want to call me. Thanks."

Having put my best foot forward, I went back to my computer and did some work. It wouldn't do to take two weeks off completely. I had to at least stay current with what was happening in the office. After cleaning the spam out of my inbox, I picked up my smart phone and called the office. After a few too many rings, Julia answered, sounding rather out of breath.

"A-2-Z ... consulting ... Julia speaking ... how may I direct your call?"

"It's me."

"Oh! Hi David," she said and I could hear the smile in her voice. I could also hear the sounds of at least two other female voices in the background and it didn't sound like any work was getting done. I grinned.

"While the boss is away the staff will play, eh?"

"It's Thursday, Boss."

I heard a high pitched squeal coming back down the connection and then Julia's voice scolding someone.

"FOR GOODNESS SAKE! Don't put your tongue there when I'm on the phone!"

"Who's there with you?"

"Allie and Crystal."

"Mmmmm-mmmm, I'm sure sorry to miss that."

"We miss you too, although Crystal brought a new strap-on with her and we've been putting it to good use."

"Ahhhh, that explains why you were out of breath when you answered the phone."

Julia giggled. "Was there something you needed? How's the vacation going?"

"Nothing special – just checking in. If you want to know the truth, I was just feeling kind of lonely without my office posse."

"Harem, more like it," Julia chuckled into the phone. "So you mean that the great David Donaldson, stud supreme, hasn't scored yet"

"I haven't really been trying, at least not yet, although there was a really pretty brunette at the pool today I thought I'd like to get to know better. Sex would be great, but the truth is I'd like someone to spend some time with – sort of a companion."

"Hmmmm...thinking of getting married again?"

"Not a chance. But, like I said, I did spot a person of interest anyway. I'll let you know what happens."

"I'm sure you'll charm her panties right off. You sure did mine," Julia said with a smile that was obvious even from 1400 miles away.

"I never knew you wore any," I said, teasing.

"Was there anything else you wanted? I'm wearing a 10" strap-on and I've got two young whores kneeling on the sofa whose juicy pussies are winking at me like a couple of mares in heat."

"Just checking in, Julia. Go take care of those mares," I said, smiling. I ended the call; made myself a large Plymouth and tonic with lots of fresh lime, took my book, and went out onto the balcony to spend some quality time with one of my favorite authors.

I was on my second g&t when the phone rang – not the cell, but the room phone. I walked back into the living room and picked up the receiver.

"David Donaldson," I said.

"Oh, I was looking for Sir Galahad."

"I'm often mistaken for him. Is this Amy?"

"Yes. I got your message."

There was a nervous pause. I resisted filling it.

"I'm not sure, David. You seem like a nice man, and I appreciate you saving me from some badly bruised knees, at the very least, this afternoon."

My heart sank.

"But surely you must have noticed ..."

"That you have Parkinson's Disease?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean you no longer take meals?"

"I tend to take them alone."

"Not a good idea. I tell you what. We don't have to go out. There's a gas grill right down stairs. I can go to the market across the street and get a couple of steaks and baking potatoes, some salad fixings, a bottle of wine, and we can have dinner in private."

"I don't know, David, I...."

"Please?" I tried to keep the pleading tone out of my voice. I heard a dry chuckle from the other end.

"Pardon me for saying this, Mr. Donaldson, but you don't seem like the type of man who would lack for companionship. Why are you asking me to dine with you?"

"Would you believe I'm a sucker for beautiful brunettes?"

"Of a certain age?"

"Of any age, but I prefer my companions to be mature, in every sense."

" I may regret this, but, all right, you've convinced me. What time?"

I looked at my watch. It was 3:00 p.m.

"Let's say cocktails at 5:30 and dinner at 6:00. I'm in building number four, seventh floor. 4715."

"5:30. See you then, David. "

"I look forward to it, Amy."

I replaced the receiver, grabbed car keys, phone, and wallet, and headed out the door. I returned a little while later with several bags of groceries, a couple of bottles of good wine, and some candles.

I prepared the potatoes, scrubbing them thoroughly, drying them with paper towel, cutting off the ends, poking them with a fork, and coating them with a thin layer of soft butter. I set them on a small plate in the fridge. I didn't have any table linens, but I set the table as best I could, put a pair of martini glasses in the freezer along with the shaker, added candles to the table, and stood there wondering what was missing.

"Flowers!"

Concierge to the rescue! I soon had a small arrangement placed in the middle of the table with candles on either side.

"There. I think that will do nicely."

Preheating the oven I made a check of the place, making sure there weren't any spare items of clothing lying about, dirty laundry sticking out from some place it shouldn't, magazines straightened on the coffee table, etc. I found a soft jazz station on the stereo and set the volume low. Then I changed my mind and turned the music off. I was suddenly as nervous as a teenager attending his first prom.

I looked at the clock, put the potatoes in the oven and went into the bedroom to prepare myself for the evening.

I took a shower, shaved, splashed on some Vetiver, slipped on a pair of freshly pressed khakis and a polo shirt, and slipped into a pair of leather sandals. One final check in the mirror and I was ready.

Just after 5:30, there was a knock at my door.

"Here's a knocking indeed," I muttered.

I opened the door. Suddenly I was face to face with the source of my apprehension. When you have the "god key" to life it's easy to get lazy and just guarantee a win all the time. I hadn't done that in this case so I looked on the prospect of the evening with a great deal of excitement and no little trepidation.

"Hi, Amy!" I said. I know, not exactly a killer line. "C'mon in," I added – not a brilliant follow up either, but she didn't run away screaming.

"Hello, David," she replied, stepping across the threshold. She was wearing a white sun dress which contrasted nicely with both her tan and her lustrous rich brown, almost auburn, hair. The dress was held up by a pair of spaghetti strings tied at the top of each shoulder. Her legs were bare and smooth and her feet were encased in a pair of white sandals. I caught a waft of something expensive from the perfume department as she walked by me into my suite. My pulse was racing. I could tell she was very nervous and I also noticed something else – her tremor was gone.

OK, Amy was here. Now what? I'm normally very glib – to a fault according to some – and being at a loss for words was an unfamiliar experience.

"Thanks for coming over, Amy," I said.

"I'm not sure why I did, to be honest," Amy replied.

I escorted her to the living room and she took a seat on the sofa. I had two choices – sit next to her, or on an overstuffed chair adjacent to the sofa. Both pieces of furniture were oriented to the plasma screen in the entertainment center placing them awkwardly for conversation. So I did not sit down.

"Martini? Glass of wine? Something else?"

She sighed.

"I haven't had a martini in years. Why not? Sure. I'll have one if you are. I feel different right now and I'm not sure what that's about."

I retreated to the kitchen – just a few steps actually, and prepared a shaker of martinis; pouring them into the chilled glasses, adding the requisite olive to each, and carrying them carefully back to the living room. I set both glasses on the coffee table in front of the sofa and then grabbed a chair from the nearby dining room table and placed it across the coffee table from where Amy sat.

She picked up her glass and so did I.

"Success to crime," I said.

She looked at me with a mildly quizzical expression and then, suddenly, she looked at her glass, or rather the hand that was holding the glass. She gave a little shriek and dropped the glass, which by some miracle did not break and did not tip over. It rocked a little, sloshing a good portion of its contents onto the glass top and then was still. Amy just sat there staring at her hand. She held up the other one and stared at it.

"Amy? Are you all right?"

She stood up suddenly and raced down the front hall and into the bathroom. I heard the door close. I knew what she was doing – she was looking at herself in the mirror. She had seen that her hands had stopped shaking. Now she wanted to see the rest. I got a cloth from the kitchen and cleaned up the spilled gin. I refilled Amy's martini glass and set it back on the coffee table. I turned down the oven so the potatoes wouldn't over cook. I sat down in the chair across from the sofa and sipped my martini. After a while I heard the sounds of a toilet flushing and water running in the bathroom quickly followed by footsteps on the marble floor and then on the carpet. I looked up.

Amy's face was a mixture of expressions. She was confused, excited, frightened, and embarrassed – all at the same time.

"I – I – I – apologize for my behavior. You must think I'm insane or something."

"Tell me what's wrong, Amy," I said.

"You know I have – had – Parkinson's Disease."

"Yes."

"You saw my tremor."

She held out her hand and it was as steady as a rock, assuming you discount that trembling brought on by nervousness and excitement.

"You see? And my head – it's not shaking or anything."

"Yes, I see. What do you think has happened?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I don't ... know. A miracle maybe?"

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

"Shakespeare?"

"Well spotted. The point is that we can't always explain what happens in this life."

"It's just that I've lived with this condition long enough to have accepted it as part of my life. Is it gone? Is this some cruel trick? Will I wake up tomorrow and this will all have been some sort of dream?"

"What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if it were me, I'd be on the phone to my doctor."

"I happen to know that he's on vacation in the Bahamas."

"No one local you could consult?"

"No."

"Well, in that case, if you don't mind some free advice, why not just enjoy yourself and let tomorrow take care of tomorrow?"

For a moment, I thought she might get up and leave. After all she'd been through a life altering experience. She'd been cured, presumably, from a life threatening and physically debilitating illness. And, here I was proposing that she just enjoy herself. She looked at me with a thoughtful expression. There was another long pause that I refused to fill.

"Yes. Yes, I think that's a good idea."

I raised my glass. "To new beginnings."

"To new beginnings," she replied. We clinked glasses and each took a pull of the sharp clear liquid.

"Very nice. I don't recall the last time I had a martini. This is very good."

"Thank you. Gin and tonic is my usual drink but I wanted to do something special this evening. Now, would you like to help me finish getting dinner ready?"

"Lay on MacDuff."

"Once more unto the breach dear friends, once more..."

"Are we going to spend the rest of the evening trading Elizabethan one liners?"

"God, I hope not," I said, and we both laughed.

Amy and I took the steaks down stairs where we found a grill not already in use. About 20 minutes later we headed back to my suite, opened the wine, put the food on the table, and shared a delightful meal with lively conversation. By the end of the meal we were, if nothing else, friends.

"Dessert?"

"Oh, no, I ate too much already."

I opened a bottle of Australian Muscat and poured us each a small glass.

"Come on, let's go sit on the balcony."

I held out my hand and she took it. I handed her a glass of the dark red wine, picked mine up, and led her to the little balcony off the living room. There were two chairs and a small table. We sat down and each took a sip of the rich, almost thick, dessert wine.

"If you put whipped cream on this, it WOULD be dessert," Amy said, smiling.

"But let's not – I think the vintner would object."

We sipped our wine in companionable silence.

"Why did you ask me to have dinner with you, David?"

"I was lonely. I hoped to meet someone here and spend some time with them while visiting this fair city. I saw you, and, as I said, I'm a sucker for pretty brunettes. I decided to take a chance. So there you are."

"But, my tremor didn't put you off?"

"No."

"Really?"

"I'd like to think that I'm not that shallow."

"Fair enough."

"Hey, I've got an idea – let's get our swimsuits on and go down to the hot tub and hang out for a while. It would be nice and relaxing."

"Hmmmm...sure, let's."

"I'll go get my suit on and then I can walk you over to your room and you can change too."

I got up and walked back through the bedroom and into the master bath. I grabbed my suit and quickly stripped out of my slacks and shirt, replacing them with the swimming trunks. Then I walked back into the bedroom. Amy was there. Naked. On my bed. On her side facing me. Smiling.

"I had a thought while you were changing. I hope I haven't been too forward," she said.

I smiled back at her and in about 2 seconds I was as naked as she was. I stood there for a moment, just looking at her. She had a lush, mature, figure. She was not fat at all, but mature women, even mature women who work out a lot, tend to fill out just a little and I like that. Her breasts had just the tiniest bit sag to them – they were "real" rather than the surgically enhanced variety. Her pubic bush was trimmed but still there – she was no porn star or bikini model after all. Her skin tone was excellent. My cock was almost instantly hard.