Next Time You See Her

Tuesday morning, I finally got a lucky break. Just as I was checking in at the front desk, I spotted the Jaguar pulling in to the parking lot. I ducked into the men's room and washed my hands, and emerged just in time to see her checking in. She didn't look up at the sound of my approaching footsteps.

"Emma!"

"Oh, God, James, not here!"

"It's not what you think!"

"Isn't it?" Her voice could cut glass. "I suppose your phone and your computer both broke down at once and you couldn't get a single word to me?"

"Worse than that. Please..."

"James, if you don't want to see me again --"

"Then I wouldn't be here, would I?"

"You work here, James! Of course...wait a minute, you saw me coming, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Stalking me, now, are we?"

"No! Could we please go somewhere to talk, just for a few minutes?"

"I've been stalked before, James. You do not want to be in the same company as the fellow who did it!"

"Was it Eric?"

Emma's jaw dropped. "How did you know about him?"

"That's why I haven't been in touch! Now, please, could we go get a coffee and I'll tell you everything?"

Five minutes later in the farthest corner of the cafeteria, all was forgiven. "I should have known, James. I really should've warned you about him."

"You're the victim," I said. "It's not your responsibility. I just -- he really spooked me. The more I've thought about it, he probably doesn't know anything but my first name, and he could have just overheard that anywhere I was."

"No, James," Emma said. "He probably does know plenty about you. He is dangerous. The good news is, I've got a restraining order against him, and I can let my caseworker know he threatened you. I'll do that today, all right?"

I suddenly felt relieved but exhausted, as if every bit of adrenalin had evaporated from my body. "Emma, thank you."

"It's still probably best that we don't see each other until Friday," she said. "It might take the police a bit to find him and warn him off from you."

"I'll be counting the hours!" I promised. We stood up and hugged, and she held my hand on the walk back out to the elevators.

We missed each other at lunch, but she did send me an email that afternoon to say she had reported Eric to the cops and they would probably be in touch with me. I looked forward to giving them my report, but the call never came. I thought little of that; maybe they didn't even need to hear from me about it.

Friday morning, I got out of the shower to find a text message on my phone: No casual Friday for you! I got us a reservation at Chez Martin, and after that I want to rip your best suit off you! Chez Martin was probably the snootiest restaurant in town. I'd never been there but I knew they did have a dress code. And who could resist an order like that, after all?

I did put on my best suit, complete with a lavender shirt and a purple tie, as I remembered Emma saying that was her favorite color (or should I say her favourite colour? Those jokes would never get old!), which got me a lot of attention at the office. I welcomed every bit of it, and deliberately did not go to the cafeteria for lunch because I wanted to be surprised at Emma's outfit for the occasion.

I was surprised, all right, when she stepped off the elevator just past five o'clock in a silver sequined off-the-shoulder dress and fishnet stockings. "Wow!" I said as I stepped up to kiss her cheek.

"I got an awful lot of questions about this all day," she said. "Lots of 'who's the lucky guy?', too?"

"He is lucky all right!" I said, and I took her arm and let her lead me outside to the Jaguar - her Jaguar.

"You're sure this is safe?" I asked her as soon as we were in the car with our seatbelts on, having had a moment to look around the parking lot for spies. I hadn't shaken my paranoia off just yet.

"Well, the police got in touch with you, didn't they?" Emma asked as she started the car.

"No," I said.

That did give her pause, and she took the car out of gear and looked around just as I just had. "Well, Eric knows if he comes anywhere near me, he's going to jail," she said, and put the car back in gear. "I think he just wanted to scare you off. You know how bullies are, they back down if you don't let them know they got to you."

"Just tell me one thing and I'll drop the subject," I said. "Did he ever hurt you?"

"He never hit me," she said. "He threw things at the wall and he pounded the table, that sort of thing. That is a recognized form of violence, you know. It's like saying 'You can't say I hit you because I didn't, but you'd better do what I tell you or next time I will.'"

"I know," I said. "I had a friend in college who escaped from a marriage like that. I'm really glad you did, too."

"I just wish Eric would go back to England already. He's got no reason to stay here now. But let's not let him ruin our evening."

"I wouldn't think of it!" And the conversation turned to matters much more pleasant for the rest of the short drive.

Chez Martin was beautiful, dimly lit with chintz everywhere and enough distance between the tables to allow for a wonderful intimacy. I got to use my high school French on the waiters with surprisingly good results as we enjoyed our salads and fondue and crème brulée. Emma declined the offer of wine because she had to drive, and I followed suit because, as I told her once we were alone, "I want to be fully alert later, don't I?"

"You filthy-minded Americans," she said. "I just love it! And you, James, I think I love you."

"I think I love you, too," I said, and we held hands across the table while sipping our sparkling water and waiting for the next course.

It was raining lightly when we left the restaurant, which only added to the deliciously romantic scene as we settled ourselves in the warm and dry car. "Isn't the rain beautiful when you're safe inside?" I asked.

"You obviously don't come from a country where it rains all the time," she said. "But I'll tell you what, James, I am looking forward to hearing it on my bedroom window soon!"

"If you can hear it, it means we're not making nearly enough noise, doesn't it?"

Emma cackled. "Lucky me, I know that won't be a problem! Honestly, James, last week was so beautiful...and then I was so scared when I thought I'd frightened you off..."

"You didn't!" I reminded her. "I mean, I was frightened off, but not by you."

"Yes, I know," she said. "It's just, I have been told I make too much noise in bed."

"Not by me!"

"I know, James. Thank you." Then she giggled. "That's why even though we're out of the rain, I'm still a bit wet over here..."

"Sounds like the last line of a Bond movie," I said when we'd stopped laughing.

"Well, that's fitting when we've defeated an evil man, now isn't it?"

I couldn't agree more.

We both chanced a nervous look around when she parked the car outside her building. But there was no one in sight. Neither of us acknowledged out loud what we were looking for; there was no need to. I followed her quietly up the steps and down the walkway to her door.

As soon as we were safe inside, she threw her arms around me and kissed me. "Now," she said once I'd come up for air, "Since no one needs to drive anytime soon, I've got a bottle of champagne in the fridge. Want to do the honors?"

"Certainly," I said. "But please keep your dress on for the moment?"

"I wouldn't dream of missing the pleasure of you removing it, silly."

While I got the bottle out and opened it, she went into the bedroom. I poured two glasses and put the bottle back in the fridge, figuring we could finish it off after we made love and before it went flat.

As promised, she was still fully clothed except for her shoes when I arrived in the bedroom, where she'd lit a candle on each of the bedside tables and put some soft jazz on the radio. I handed her one of the glasses and said, "To leaving the past in the past."

"Amen!" We clinked glasses and took a long sip each, and slow-danced to the music. I set my glass down so I could put both arms around her, and she kissed me gently. Then she set about loosening my tie. She could only do it so quickly one-handed, but that just added to the moment. She also unbuttoned my top button, then pulled my tie off.

Once she'd finished her champagne, Emma pushed my jacket off with both hands and set about unbuttoning my shirt the rest of the way. I kissed her again, and rubbed my hands gently down her back and over her behind while she moaned in pleasure through the kiss. While she pulled my shirt out of my pants, I took her dress in both hands and pulled it up gently.

"Told you I'd let you do it." She raised her arms and let me pull it off. "Thanks for remembering my favorite color, by the way," she said as I got my first good look at her in a deep purple bra and panties, which I made no move to take off just yet. Instead I let her push my shirt off, and then unhooked her bra while she was hugging me. She pulled back and it floated to the floor between us. "Glad to have that out of the way," she quipped, and she set about undoing my belt buckle while I caressed both of her breasts with my hands. "Ooh, James, you are delightful with those!" she murmured.

She made fast work of my belt and my pants, and soon had my hard dick in her hands while I was still massaging her breasts. "Somebody's hungry," she teased, grazing the tip with her thumb.

"Somebody's a naughty girl," I added as I reached down and pulled her panties down. "These are soaked!"

"Your fault, and I know just how you can make amends!" She took my hand and led me to the bed, climbed on and lay back on the pillows with her legs spread.

I scrambled on after her and lost no time diving between her thighs. "Oh, James!" She had just enough time for that anticipatory exclamation before I placed my first gentle kiss on her pussy, which sent up a howl of joy as she grabbed at my hair with both hands and rubbed my head. "Ohoohoohoohoohoo...yes, more of that!" Which was just what I did, licking and sucking passionately to my heart's content. She scissored her legs back and forth against my head and wriggled all over the place, and every moan seemed more intense than the last.

As usual, my neck was getting sore well before I could get her off. So I reached one finger gently inside her, and she yelped louder still. "Yes, stroke it!" she called out, and I did. After less than a minute of that, she came with a roar. "Thank youuuuu," she sighed as I knelt up and admired her body in the candlelight. "Now lay down!" she ordered, patting the other side of the bed.

I did as she said, and nimbly as a cat she got up and straddled me, and had me inside her before I knew it. "I was so scared you'd never be here again," she whispered, sitting still to savor the moment.

"Never mind that!" I slapped her hips playfully, and there were no more words for the moment.

I was right about the rain: it was tapping against the window, but Emma's lusty moans were drowning it out, and soon she had me moaning as well. Safe in her home, in her room, in her bed, in her vagina, I let loose with joy and gazed up at her beautiful body in amazement as she humped me with abandon.

"Gonna come!" She closed her eyes tight, and did indeed come. "Now you!" she said when she opened her eyes again, having not slowed down at all.

"Please!" I grunted. I've never been very good at coming when I'm on the bottom, but Emma picked up the pace and placed my hands on her breasts and let me rub them to my heart's content, and just as she was hitting the high notes again, I joined in. I thrust up my hips as hard as I could and let out a throaty yell. "Oh, yes!"

"Oh, that's beautiful, James." She slowed down to a slight wiggle, and finally stopped but clutched me harder than ever inside her. "I love how vocal you are," she said.

"It's fun for me, too," I said. "Really liberating."

"Liberating. That's a great word for this, isn't it?" She reached down and rubbed my chest lightly. At last she slipped me out and lay down beside me, resting her head on my shoulder. "This was worth it all, James!"

"I couldn't agree more." I hugged her tightly, and let myself think of the future and many more joyous nights like this.

"Shall we go get some more champagne?" Emma suggested, pulling the covers back. "No need to put any clothes on," she added, giggling.

I was just about to accept the offer when we both heard it from the doorway. "I'm afraid I can't allow that, Emma."

"Eric!" Emma shrieked, and pulled the sheets tightly back around her. "Get out!"

He had a gun, and by the time I could focus I saw it was pointed at me. "I told you not to see her again, James."

For a horrible moment, I was frozen in his sights. Once I'd come to my senses, I threw myself over Emma. "You heard her, Eric, get out! You want to go to prison?"

"Only one way I can avoid that, isn't there?" Eric said. "I can't leave either of you alive to report me." He stepped toward the bed with the gun still aimed at my head.

"We'll leave you alone if you leave us alone!" Emma cried out from under me. "Just get out of here!"

"I've seen how worthless your true love's word is." Eric was now standing over us. "Didn't I tell you not to see her again?"

"I never agreed to that, you asshole."

He whacked me on the head with the gun. "I'd watch my mouth if I were you, James. Now, I did say I would kill you if you saw Emma again, not both of you. But I'm feeling magnanimous, James. If you put your clothes on and walk out of here right now and don't come back, I won't come after you."

"How do I know you won't hurt Emma?"

"She's my bloody wife, James. It's none of your concern what I do to her. Now, nice and easy, my friend, get up." He grabbed at my arm with his free hand and tried to pull me off her, but I wasn't going anywhere. "You want to make this hard, do you?" He clubbed me with the gun again, and I cried out in pain but still didn't budge. "Now, come on, James, you know I'm in control. Get up."

While he was trying to pull me off Emma, I was vaguely aware of her shifting around a bit under me. All at once I knew why, as I heard three beeps -- Emma dialling 9-1-1 on her phone.

Eric heard it, too. "Oh, you bitch, you shouldn't have done that." He grabbed at her hair with his free hand, and just for a moment he turned the gun away from us. I saw my opportunity and grabbed at his wrist with both hands and twisted them for all I was worth. Eric let go of Emma and shoved my still-aching head against the headboard, and Emma jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to pull him off me. She couldn't quite do it, but she did get him off balance and all three of us bumped into the bedside table and knocked the candle over.

The doily caught fire, and Emma screamed. I felt my skin burning but I kept my hands wrapped tightly around Eric's wrist. I banged it against the table as hard as I could, powerless to stop the fire that was now spreading to the bed.

"Eric, drop it!" Emma wailed. "You'll burn us all to death!" She jumped on his back again, and he heaved to the right and got her to slip off him and onto the burning table. I was aware of the flames surrounding us on all sides but I didn't dare let go of his wrist. For the moment I wasn't aware of where Emma was. Then she appeared out of nowhere with our never-finished bottle of champagne and whacked him in the head with it.

"Ow, you bitch!" He finally let go of my hands, and I tried to hold his other hand in the fire and force him to let go of the gun. Before I could do that, he somehow got a hold of Emma's hair and yanked her screaming towards us. He slammed her head into mine and I lost my grip at last. With both of us sprawling on the burning mattress, he raised the gun.

I heard the sirens wailing outside. He heard them too and lost his concentration just for a second. As he was cocking the pistol, I kicked him in the knee.

"AGH!" he shouted, and the gun went off. That was the last thing I remembered.

"He's waking up! I think he's waking up!" It was a woman's voice I heard, but it wasn't Emma's. It was an American woman's voice, a very familiar one, I'd known it all my life.

"Mom?"

I saw only a fluorescent blur as I opened my eyes. "Yes, Jimmy," my mother -- for it was indeed she -- said. "I'm here." She came into focus a moment later, and I tried to get up to greet her, but she said, "Don't try to get up, Jimmy. You're pretty banged up."

Next I heard another woman's voice off to the other side. "James, I'm Doctor Barbara Fulton. Your mom's right, you're in no shape to get up yet. But you'll heal. You're a lucky young man."

"How's Emma?" I asked them both, looking back and forth. Dr. Fulton looked at my mother, so I turned my attention to her.

Mom had tears in her eyes. "Jimmy, I'm sorry. She lost a lot of blood from the gunshot and she had third-degree burns over most of her body."

"We tried, but it was just too much," Dr. Fulton added. "Her parents are here, and they want to meet you and say thank you."

"Thank me for what?" I was too deep in shock to cry, and now I was aware of my own burns, but that pain was nothing compared to the news.

"For trying to save her," Dr. Fulton said. "Eric confessed to everything so he could avoid death row. He told the cops all about what you did."

"She died and that bastard didn't?"

"No, but he'll be rotting in jail for the rest of his life," Mom said. "Speaking of which, the cops want to talk to you as soon as possible. Are you willing to do that now?"

"The sooner the better," I said, choking back tears.

I recovered. I was hailed as a hero when I got back to work, and Emma's parents insisted on treating me to a trip to England for her funeral. I had the satisfaction of testifying at Eric's trial and watching him sent off for life, although he deprived me of seeing him cry at his sentencing. He just stared straight ahead like no one else was in the room. Then I threw myself into my work and stopped taking my lunch in the cafeteria; too many memories I didn't want to have to face up to. I did consider putting a picture of Emma on my desk to remember, only to realize I didn't have one. And so I was left to get my life back together with only my memory of her lilting laughter, her beautiful voice, her long dark ringlets and doe eyes and her magical body, which once I had known so completely.

Would she know my name, if I saw her in heaven?