Murder Misstery Redux

"You look terrific," he smiled.

"Thanks, you too." And he did, in a Hawaiian shirt and white slacks which showed off his buff body.

He ordered tropical drinks for us, a potent concoction that snuck up on me as we talked on and on about nothing in particular. When he asked why a pretty girl like me was vacationing alone at a lovers' getaway, I shrugged my bare shoulders and told him that I was recovering from minor surgery and a friend had recommended La Belle Creole as a nice place to get away from it all. When he started to probe, I cut him off with "I really don't want to talk about it, Brad," which was enough to steer the conversation onto safer ground.

Brad ordered another round of drinks with dinner, and I was feeling a little woozy as the evening progressed. It was almost like having a boycrush on a professional baseball player, except I really was a girl now, and if I didn't know better, I could have sworn that my panties were getting a little damp. By the time we finished splitting a piece of key lime pie, the rum had done its work, and I was feeling very uninhibited.

"Let's go for a walk along the beach," I suggested, and I guess Brad was feeling no pain too, because his knee scarcely bothered him as we slowly made our way across the sand under a full moon. I kicked off my flats and splashed my toes in the gentle surf, tugging on the hem of my dress to keep it dry. Brad splashed in after me, and when his knee suddenly gave out and I tried to catch him, we tumbled together into the warm sea. "Are you okay?" I gasped when we came up for air.

"I'm fine," he laughed. "How about you?"

"Look at my dress!" I cried. It was clinging to my trembling body like a second skin, and I could tell that Brad liked what he saw in the moonlight.

"God, you're beautiful," he said, and suddenly I was in his powerful arms, his lips found mine, and I was kissing him eagerly. When his hands started to roam, I moaned as he squeezed my ass and pressed his manhood against me. And then, the most incredible thing happened: even though he had only one good leg, he swept me up out of the sea and started to carry me unsteadily back towards the hotel.

"Put me down," I scolded him, "you can hardly walk!"

"Stop squirming!" he commanded, and I did as I was told, hanging on for dear life while he manfully made his way to his room. When we were there, he lowered me gently to the ground, opened the door, and took my hand. "Let's go to bed," he said, and without hesitation I followed him inside.

* * *

The next morning, I woke up with a start to find myself in a strange bed. The sight of Brad sleeping next to me brought me around, and I lay back and reveled in wonderful memories of my first night as a woman.

I was scared to death when he undressed me, terrified that he might discover some imperfection while he peeled off my dress, unsnapped my bra and tugged down my panties. But he said nothing as he tore off his shirt and stepped out of his slacks and briefs. God, he was huge! What if he tore me up down there? Before I could back away, he picked me up again, staggering unsteadily, and our naked bodies fell together into his waiting bed. My head was spinning with conflicting emotions: what was I doing with a guy...it's okay, you're a woman now...how could I do this to Jacques?

Then his fingers started triggering my erotic hotspots, and I gave up thinking and lost myself in ecstasy. He teased my nipples with his teeth while he played with my womanhood, and I responded in kind by stroking his raging cock, knowing all too well that he couldn't hold out much longer. Suddenly he lowered himself onto me, and instinctively I took him in my hand and started to guide him in...I shuddered at the first shock of penetration, then he was inside me, and I surrendered to him as he thrust forward, deeper and deeper, until he eased back and pushed back in, again and again, it felt so good! He was groaning and I was moaning, then he sucked in his breath and I felt him starting to throb inside me, and before I knew it I was spasming along with him, blown away by wave after wave of exquisite pleasure as I experienced the delights of my first female orgasm.

So I'm really a woman now! I thought to myself as he held me in his arms and we drifted off to sleep. Twice more during the night, he woke me up, placed my hand on his stiffening cock, and we did it again and again, each time better and better than the time before. Now, in the soft light of dawn, I gazed at the sleeping body of the man who had claimed my virginity, and thought guiltily about the man who had really made a woman out of me....

I eased myself out of bed and found my wrinkled dress on the floor, dry by now although covered with salt and sand. My bra and panties were nowhere to be found, so I stepped into my dress, zipped it up, and tiptoed barefoot back to my room. When I got there I realized that my little purse with my room key was also missing in action. Fortunately I'd left a window open, so I was able to crawl back into my room without embarrassment.

My heart sank when I saw the message light blinking on my phone. I picked up the receiver, punched in the answer code, and listened in despair as the mechanical voice said, "You have two new messages."

"Madeline, I was just calling to see how you are...you must be feeling better to have left your room. I'll call you again in a little while. J'taime."

I knew what was coming while I waited for the second message: "Madeline, it's me again. Unfortunately I've had to cancel my trip to St. Martin. Your room is paid up through the end of the week. Au revoir."

My hands were shaking as I looked up his office number. His officious receptionist put me on hold for a long time. "Allo," she finally answered.

"Hi, it's Maddy Moreau. Is the doctor in?"

"I'm sorry, mademoiselle, but he is with patients."

"Can you leave him a message that I called?" "Certainly."

I sat on my pristine bed for a long time, feeling very foolish and ashamed. When I finally got up and looked at myself in the mirror, I was shocked by the sight of my tangled hair, wrinkled dress and smeared makeup. Good thing Brad hadn't seen me like this! Screw Jacques, I said to myself...suddenly I was all business, drawing a hot bath, shampooing and conditioning my hair, and dressing myself in my hottest bikini and cutest cover-up. I had breakfast on the terrace as always, but there was no sign of Brad this morning, so I took up my usual place by the pool and waited for him to join me. My heart jumped each time I heard footsteps approaching, but as the sun slowly climbed across the sky, there was no sign of Brad.

By noon, I was getting desperate. There was a house phone by the pool, so after a moment's hesitation I asked the operator to connect me to his room. "I'm sorry, mademoiselle, but Mr. Wilcox checked out this morning."

What a fool I'd been! Throwing away everything for a one night stand with a baseball player! In a trance, I picked up my beach bag and walked slowly back to my room, where a large manila envelope was waiting for me outside the door. I tore it open to find my bra, panties, purse and a letter written on the hotel stationery:

"Dear Maddy,

Where were you this morning? When I woke up my knee was killing me -- did I really carry you back to the room? Anyway I called my trainer and he ordered me to fly to San Juan for an MRI, I don't think it's serious but I gotta go. Last night was amazing, you are a great girl -- maybe if I make the big club someday you can show me around Chicago. Love,

Brad"

Well, that was something! I still felt like a total tramp, but at least Brad had some feelings for me, not that they would help pay the rent after Jacques kicked me out of my apartment...with grim determination, I hurried to the hotel business center, where a quick web search confirmed that a big medical conference was scheduled to begin on Monday at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montreal. I found a flight on Air France that would get me to Montreal on Friday afternoon, booked a seat in economy, and reserved the cheapest room I could find at a downtown hotel.

As I packed my trusty suitcase once again, I thought back over all that had happened to me since I left Paris. A few short weeks ago, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Now, I felt strangely confident in my newfound womanhood, and I was bound and determined to reclaim my place in Jacques' life.

By the author of The Jessica Project