He sat helplessly through it all. They hadn't gone to pick up Ambrose. She'd called Roslynn and asked if he could stay for a while, so they could work through the obvious issues. She'd told him to sit on the couch and had disappeared into her bedroom, returning in a Popeye T shirt that said, "I YAM WHAT I YAM!" on the chest and a pair of dark blue hip hugging jeans. She'd paced then, while she talked, unburdening herself. He kept staring at the zipper of the jeans, where the tab was standing straight out at the top, instead of lying flat, the way it was supposed to. It suggested she'd dressed in a hurry, putting on what first came to her fingers. She'd been eager to rake him over the coals.
"Well?"
His mind had wandered and he tried to focus. She'd said a lot, to sum it all up with a one word question.
"I needed to find out who I was," he said. He felt like it was completely inadequate as an answer.
"I know," she said, her shoulders slumping. She didn't quite wilt in front of him, but she swayed, as if she was suddenly so tired that she might fall down. He leaned forward, instinctively, ready to catch her if she fell. She saved him the trouble by stepping toward him and sinking down on his lap. "I wanted to
help
you find out who you were."
Then the tears came and she hugged him fiercely, telling him in actions what words could never have conveyed. She had lost him ... but now she had him in her arms.
He wanted more than anything to make love to her then. The passion that surged through him was animalistic. He'd lost her too, after all, and was experiencing the same thing she was ... the reintroduction of the love of their lives, after a torturous hiatus.
But, when she stood and pulled him to the bedroom, it seemed all wrong, somehow, to tear off his clothes and jump on top of her. Instead they lay down. Her night's work, followed by the emotional storm, and his night's driving, followed by the verbal flogging he'd received, drained them both of the energy needed to make physical love.
Instead, they slept in each other's arms.
Mitch dutifully delivered Kris' message to Harper, who groaned when he heard the news. Hoping against hope, he called Mrs. Custer. While the phone rang he wondered what kind of hissy fit Captain Hildebrand would have if he knew one of his detectives not only had the private number of the governor's wife, but was using it to deliver information she would probably not be happy about.
She wasn't. Not only that, his argument that the poor man had been through hell already and only wished to get on with his life out of the spotlight, didn't cut any mustard with Chantal.
"I have to deal with the spotlight," she snapped. "He saved my life and he
will
let me thank him for it!"
She then commenced to browbeat out of the big, tough detective, where her savior could be found.
Lulu woke first. Upon finding herself fully clothed, she looked at her watch. It wasn't terribly late. She looked at the still sleeping man beside her and had a mountaintop experience, in which she just knew that the worst was over and that things were going to work out. She could take another hour before she'd be imposing on Roslynn, so she got up and took her clothes off. Then she methodically tried to strip her lover, something that looked easier than it turned out to be, until he woke up and began to help.
It is quite possible to be completely satisfied with your lover, and crave his attention, and at the same time pursue a continuing, but less vituperative line of punishment for his misdeeds. In this case, Lulu got on top of him and rode him until he was about to have an orgasm.
Then she stopped and willed her internal muscles to go slack.
She was winding down from her third orgasm and had just done that again, when he finally caught on.
"You're still mad at me," he panted.
"Only a little," she said, looking down at him. She gave his member a little squeeze.
"My jewels are going to swell up and explode," he moaned. "What good will I be to you then?"
"You hurt me," she said, beginning to rock again. "You must be punished."
"I
wrote
that line in my last book," he moaned.
"Until further notice, you may address me as Duchess Lulu of Pembroke," giggled Lulu. "Don't move, I'm going to have another orgasm on your beautiful hard penis again."
Again, Chantal didn't depend on any resources out of her own control to deal with the Farmingham matter. To her credit, she didn't intend to ruin the man's life, she merely wanted to thank him. She had her own money and, to avoid any possible conflict of interest, or the wasting of taxpayer's funds, she instructed her personal assistant to charter a helicopter to take her to Connecticut. The governor, of course, couldn't break away from his duties at the drop of a hat, so she only took an entourage of five with her. The only mistake made was that she failed to tell her personal assistant that this was to be an "under the radar" event. The personal assistant told the press secretary about the trip and he did what he thought he was supposed to do.
Thus it was that, when the chopper took off with the first lady of New York in it, three other helicopters took off as well, carrying reporters, cameramen and all the gear that is required to fulfill their "obligation" to report the "news."
Pembroke didn't have an airport. But they had a town square, which was large enough and clear enough to land a Sikorsky S-76, which is what Chantal's group was in. And there were fields nearby that were large enough to land two Bell 429s and a Eurocopter AS 350. Of course, with no air controllers being involved, there was no warning for the citizens of Pembroke that they were being invaded.
In most situations where something like this happens, the VIP involved hands out a press packet that explains the itinerary - times, dates and so forth - so the media organization can make plans. This little junket happened quickly and there was no press packet, which led the reporters and editors involved to suspect that something secret was going on. As may be imagined, there was a lot of creative thinking that went on after the aircraft were down and parked. Ground transport was needed and, since each media group was trying to get the scoop first, the need for that transport was urgent.
Bud Wilkinson, a local farmer, was the first to approach a helicopter. It had landed in his field. His truculence at the nerve of some fancy pants to just land there was overcome when he was offered three thousand dollars for the use of his pickup truck, which was worth, in his own estimation, about eight hundred bucks, tops.
Twila Bittlesbury thought the helicopter that had landed in her back yard had actually crashed, and she called 911 before going outside to see what actually happened. When the ambulance and volunteer fire department arrived, there was some tension, until the reporter on the chopper offered to reimburse them all for the cost of coming out. Of course, part of that deal was a ride back to town.
The WNBC helicopter opted to land on the football field of the Pembroke high school. It wasn't being used at the time, but the racket was heard in every room in the building. School might as well have been suspended, because every teacher and every student went to see what was happening. A number of those kids had vehicles, so WNBC had no trouble getting their stuff taken into town.
Chantal had no need for transport. As she stepped down the steps of her helicopter, she was met by Greg Shaffer, who'd gotten a call from one of the radio stations in New York City and asked to provide a feed. Mayor Childress was with him, as was Dabney Whittaker, who was
not
there to arrest anybody for landing a helicopter on the town green without permission. People began to come out of shops on the square, to see what was going on.
Lulu was just about to let Kris have that orgasm, when there came a pounding on the front door that they could clearly hear, even in the bedroom. They could also hear a voice bellow
"Police! Open up!"
"That sounds like Mitch!" groaned Kris.
"What now?" growled Lulu.
She hopped off of Kris and he moaned as cool air hit his penis. He was of half a mind to just jerk off, he needed relief so badly. His hand went to his penis and Lulu stopped, just long enough to say, "Don't you dare! What's in that is mine!"
Then, both because she was ticked off at the disruption, and because modesty wasn't among the top ten of things she worried about, she went to the front door and pulled it open.
Mitch took a breath and almost choked at the same time, as he saw Lulu in all her naked glory.
"What the fuck do you want now?" she snarled.
"Ahb ... um ... gurk ... abla ... " gasped Mitch, as he stared at her dark red nipples on her rosy pink breasts. Before he could stop himself, his eyes dropped and took in the skin on her mons that was as bare and soft as a baby's. He jerked his eyes upward, as if searching for the fairy godmother who was the only creature on earth who could protect him at this particular point in time.
"Mitch!"
she shouted.
"The gubenor's wife!" he choked out.
"Who?"
"Chantal," he whispered. He had to stop to drag in more air. It seemed like he was standing in a vacuum and there wasn't any air there at all. "She's here," he gasped. "Kris!"
Lulu looked past him, leaning forward. Mitch could smell the delicate aroma that was this naked woman. He moaned.
"I don't see anybody, Mitch!" she snapped.
"You're naked!" he yipped.
"So was Jess when you screwed her brainless the other night," said Lulu. "Her boobs are bigger than mine. Think about them, Mitch. What's going on? What about the governor's wife?"
Oddly, her mention of Jessica calmed him and he was able to think again, though he did not think of Jessica naked. Instead he just talked to the doorframe.
"Chantal landed on the town square in a helicopter," he said. "She wants to see Kris ... to thank him for saving her life."
"We're kind of busy right now," said Lulu, unrepentant. She'd never seen Mitch this red before. He'd leered at her just like every other man in town had leered at her at one time or another, yet now he was acting like a little boy seeing his first naked woman.
"Lulu, she's the governor's wife, for pity's sake," moaned Mitch.
"Not the governor of Connecticut," shot back Lulu.
"Would you
please
put something on?" he groaned. "All I'm asking ... all the
mayor
is asking is that Kris come see her ... just for a few minutes ... so she can thank him ... then you can come back here and ... "
"And what, Mitch?" she asked sweetly.
Anger blossomed in Mitch Connel. It gave him back the control that had fled and his eyes slid from the door frame to Lulu's face. He didn't look down.
"Check each other for ticks, for all I care," he said, his voice level. "Unless you want Chantal Custer coming here to see him, I suggest you both get cleaned up and come down to the town square. Otherwise, I'm going to tell her where to find him and you can deal with her here." Then he looked at her breasts. "You're right, hers
are
bigger."
"Why Mitch Connel," said Lulu in a light voice. "I expect much better from my public servants than to be ogled in my own home." She laughed.
"Step outside that house and I swear I'll arrest you for public indecency," he growled.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Mitch," she teased, lifting one foot and pushing it through the door to touch the porch with her big toe. "You'd get your rocks off wrestling me to the ground and putting cuffs on me, wouldn't you?"
"You bet your no doubt beautiful ass I would!" he said. "But then you wouldn't be able to come home and play hide the sausage with your fricking boyfriend who you were slapping the shit out of, the last time I saw you. I could arrest you for that, too, Lulu."
"Oh, all right," said Lulu, finally getting control of her own emotions. "We'll come down to your precious town square and see the precious governor's wife. I'll even bring him myself, to make sure he gets there and doesn't get lost on the way."
"Please hurry," said Mitch. "This is a big deal for our town. I know you don't care about it, but it will help our image a lot, Lulu."
"I know," she said, feeling less and less like punishing anybody. "Go on. Tell them we're coming. I'll go get him dressed."
"Thanks," said the cop who had thought it would be a hoot to yell for the occupants of the house to open up. He'd always wanted to do that, but it had never been needed before. He decided he had watched too much TV, as he went back to his squad car.
The first thing she had to do was work through what had just happened.
"It was Mitch. We have to go downtown."
"You're naked!"
