house. He had bought us a matched set of Walther PPKs one Christmas. He’d made it sound like they were for me, but he really wanted one and pretended I’d appreciate an identical gun for myself. The thought of the guns made me worry about a violent confrontation. Suddenly I started listening for every creak of the house or other sound. We had to be alone.
To fight my fear, I stood up and let Marty look at me for a moment. Before he could ask what I was doing, I slipped out of my shorts and T-shirt and kicked off my flip-flops. Standing there naked, I was waiting for him to tell me I was crazy, but he did the same thing with his bathing suit and tank top.
So there we were, naked, casually sipping drinks inside my former home like we didn’t have a care in the world. I tried to imagine what a life like that would be like. A life with Marty instead of the one I’d had with Brennan. It was a nice fantasy.
My doing something like this was all inspired by Marty and his love of dangerous games. This was so outside my comfort zone that Brennan might believe he was seeing things if he walked in right now. I almost wanted to show off the body I’d worked so hard on since he’d given me my walking papers.
I wondered what I might say to the cops if they showed up unexpectedly. Someone might’ve seen us slipping in from the driveway, or maybe there was a new silent alarm I wasn’t aware of. Suddenly, I started thinking of the downside of this adventure that had initially been so exciting. I resisted the urge to jump up and flee. My heart was starting to race, but I kept a pleasant smile on my face as I looked over at Marty, who was examining the room in detail from his comfortable lounger.
Then I heard the mechanical click of a key drift through the house.
Someone was opening the front door.
Chapter 20
I froze every muscle, naked on the lounger, for just a moment, making sure I hadn’t imagined the sound of the key in the dead bolt of the front door. Then I heard the door and I saw the look of panic on Marty’s face. What had I done? His games were fun and involved Disney World, and my games were creepy and could lead to jail time.
We both sprang off the loungers and tried to slip into our clothes as quietly as possible. I could hear someone inside the house, and I didn’t see how this could turn out short of a disaster.
Marty was dressed faster than me and stood, pulling his shirt tight like he was about to have his photograph taken.
I could hear the footsteps on the marble floor. A steady click-clack that could be from hard-soled loafers, the stupid cowboy boots that Brennan occasionally wore, or maybe a policeman’s shoes.
We were screwed.
I heard the footsteps more clearly.
Click-clack.
Just as I was about to make a last-ditch effort to lead Marty through the pool house and out into the backyard, where we could be seen through just about every window on the first floor, the French doors to the patio room opened.
We were caught. There was nothing to do but act casual, so I just stood there with the vodka and cranberry in my right hand. I willed myself to turn slowly and then saw the figure in the doorway.
It was not Brennan. The wide waist and short body with flowing dark hair immediately told me it was Alena, Brennan’s housekeeper for the past ten years. She’d been here before me and would be here long after me. Most important, she had no beef with me. I’d always treated her well and, frankly, considered having her as a housekeeper as opposed to a younger, shapelier woman a major plus. It was one less thing to tempt Brennan.
Alena gasped when she saw us; then she recognized me. She wore a simple white polyester uniform that stretched tight around her hips and bosom. She held her hands to her cheeks, then rushed toward me with her arms out to envelop me in a massive hug.
“Miss Christy, I have missed you so much. Are you well?” She stepped back and a tear ran down her cheek. “Look at you. You
To fight my fear, I stood up and let Marty look at me for a moment. Before he could ask what I was doing, I slipped out of my shorts and T-shirt and kicked off my flip-flops. Standing there naked, I was waiting for him to tell me I was crazy, but he did the same thing with his bathing suit and tank top.
So there we were, naked, casually sipping drinks inside my former home like we didn’t have a care in the world. I tried to imagine what a life like that would be like. A life with Marty instead of the one I’d had with Brennan. It was a nice fantasy.
My doing something like this was all inspired by Marty and his love of dangerous games. This was so outside my comfort zone that Brennan might believe he was seeing things if he walked in right now. I almost wanted to show off the body I’d worked so hard on since he’d given me my walking papers.
I wondered what I might say to the cops if they showed up unexpectedly. Someone might’ve seen us slipping in from the driveway, or maybe there was a new silent alarm I wasn’t aware of. Suddenly, I started thinking of the downside of this adventure that had initially been so exciting. I resisted the urge to jump up and flee. My heart was starting to race, but I kept a pleasant smile on my face as I looked over at Marty, who was examining the room in detail from his comfortable lounger.
Then I heard the mechanical click of a key drift through the house.
Someone was opening the front door.
Chapter 20
I froze every muscle, naked on the lounger, for just a moment, making sure I hadn’t imagined the sound of the key in the dead bolt of the front door. Then I heard the door and I saw the look of panic on Marty’s face. What had I done? His games were fun and involved Disney World, and my games were creepy and could lead to jail time.
We both sprang off the loungers and tried to slip into our clothes as quietly as possible. I could hear someone inside the house, and I didn’t see how this could turn out short of a disaster.
Marty was dressed faster than me and stood, pulling his shirt tight like he was about to have his photograph taken.
I could hear the footsteps on the marble floor. A steady click-clack that could be from hard-soled loafers, the stupid cowboy boots that Brennan occasionally wore, or maybe a policeman’s shoes.
We were screwed.
I heard the footsteps more clearly.
Click-clack.
Just as I was about to make a last-ditch effort to lead Marty through the pool house and out into the backyard, where we could be seen through just about every window on the first floor, the French doors to the patio room opened.
We were caught. There was nothing to do but act casual, so I just stood there with the vodka and cranberry in my right hand. I willed myself to turn slowly and then saw the figure in the doorway.
It was not Brennan. The wide waist and short body with flowing dark hair immediately told me it was Alena, Brennan’s housekeeper for the past ten years. She’d been here before me and would be here long after me. Most important, she had no beef with me. I’d always treated her well and, frankly, considered having her as a housekeeper as opposed to a younger, shapelier woman a major plus. It was one less thing to tempt Brennan.
Alena gasped when she saw us; then she recognized me. She wore a simple white polyester uniform that stretched tight around her hips and bosom. She held her hands to her cheeks, then rushed toward me with her arms out to envelop me in a massive hug.
“Miss Christy, I have missed you so much. Are you well?” She stepped back and a tear ran down her cheek. “Look at you. You
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