The Importance of Being Alice (13 page)

There was a devilish twinkle in her eye, and a suspicious twitch of her lips, both of which were reflected in her voice. “Is that so? Well, far be it from me to miss such a splendid opportunity. I'll just freshen up, and then we can see about playing Cowgirl and Baron, hmm?”

“Cowgirl?” he asked the room after she went into the
bathroom. Was he now expected to be a cowboy? He shook his head. He barely had a grasp of the pirate role play—he knew even less about cowboys than he did pirates.

Alice's captain's hat sat on the bed next to him. “If she wants to play,” he told the hat, “she can just stay with pirates. My brain is too befuddled from the drugs to cope with anything else. The very fact that I'm speaking aloud to you confirms that fact, since I seldom talk out loud. It's a sign of an untidy mind, and mine is very tidy. It has to be, given my family.” He thought for a moment, then removed his underwear, folding them and placing them in the zip bag he had for soiled laundry. “There,” he said to his penis. It struck him that he should, by rights, feel awkward speaking to it, but oddly enough, it seemed perfectly natural. “If a man can't speak to his own genitals, then who can?”

He wouldn't mind Alice speaking to it, especially if she used her hands while doing so. He wondered how she felt about oral sex, and hoped she was in favor of it. He certainly was. Just the thought of her speaking to his penis (using both hands and mouth) had him erect and more than ready for her attentions.

“Hell,” he said, looking down his body. “I shouldn't have thought about that just yet. Now Alice is going to come out of the bathroom and see you standing there being demanding. That's not very gentlemanly. Ladies like time to be wooed, not presented with a fait accompli.”

Deflation didn't seem to be likely, especially not since he was now remembering the events of the morning, and how hot she had been, hot with amazingly strong muscles that seemed to squeeze him like a hundred little fingers.

That just made him even harder.

With a sigh, he snatched up her pirate hat and slapped it over his crotch. “There. Now we can at least present the semblance of a man who doesn't have a single-track mind.”

He put his hands behind his head, his toes bobbing gently as he thought about Alice, and was still thinking about her two minutes later when he drifted to sleep.

Diary of Alice Wood

Day Two (at last!)

“G
od morgen.”

“Morning, Dahl. Like the lederhosen.”

“Takk.”

I jogged past where Dahl was doing some sort of calisthenics involving various stretches, made my way around the bow of the ship, and started back along the port side to make another circuit.

“Morning, Izumi. How are your chicks?”

The teacher looked confused. I jogged in place for a few seconds. “Sorry, that was too colloquial. Chicks as in little ones, i.e., your students. Did you guys have a good time in Cologne?”

“Oh, yes, very good,” she said, her face clearing. “The cathedral was very beautiful, was it not?”

“Very.” I nodded over her shoulder. “And you can't beat this scenery, can you?”

She turned to admire the crumbled remains of a castle set high on a verdant hill, its broken tower seeming to scratch the morning sky. “Oh!” she squeaked. “I must take a picture! My camera!”

“I got some great shots earlier this morning,” I called after her as she ran off to scurry belowdecks. “And already uploaded them to my Facebook page, along with some from yesterday. My friends love them. Well. Now I'm talking to myself. Onward, Alice.”

Confined as I was to the top deck of the ship—not to mention being fairly unenthusiastic about jogging in the first place—my morning exercise was done at a slow pace. Mostly I was jogging to work off some of the sexual tension that held me in its grip even after a (restless) night's sleep.

I made another lap, swerving around Anthony when he lurched up the stairs looking like he had a hell of a headache. He flinched when the sunlight reached him, snarling to Dahl, “Where the hell did you put the bag with the medications? My head is going to split if I don't get something. . . . Oh, hello, comrade Alice. You are energetic this morning.”

“Not overly so,” I said, jogging in a circle around him. “Hangover?”

“No, thank you,” he answered, rubbing his head. “The one I have is sufficient.”

“And yet you can make old jokes like that.” I gave him a gentle buffet on the arm, which sent him reeling backward three steps. “Woops. Sorry. I'll just go on my way.”

He muttered something under his breath, and headed
downstairs with Dahl. I had the deck to myself. I jogged around it twice more, greeting two of the schoolgirls when they emerged with cameras, and finally, tired out enough that I felt I could sit still, went back to the cabin.

“With luck,” I said aloud, digging in my pocket for the room key, “Elliott will be awake and wanting to play.”

“What a lovely thought,” came the dulcet tones of the resident man-eater. Before I could so much as slam the door in her face, she pushed past me into the cabin, calling out, “Elliott, dear, Alice says you wish to have a threesome.”

“I did not!”

Dahl walked past, his face carefully devoid of expression.

I snarled to myself and closed the cabin door. “I never said anything even remotely like that, because even if I did want a threesome, and I certainly don't, then I wouldn't want one with a she-hussy.”

“‘She-hussy' is redundant,” Deidre said with sickening sweetness. She was sitting on the side of the bed, leaning across Elliott to brush a strand of hair off his forehead. He looked sleepily confused. A delicious sleepily confused, and I realized with a start that although I wasn't looking for a relationship so soon after Patrick's betrayal, I definitely viewed Elliott as something more than just a bed buddy.

“Hey!” I crawled across my bed and sat on the other side of him, pushing his hair back to where it was. “If he needs his hair arranged, I'll do it for him.”

She gave a delicate shrug. “If you are unable to perform even the simplest of attentions for dear Elliott, I feel obligated to rectify the situation.”

I wanted to growl something about rectifying her
situation, but I've always felt that one should be prepared to back up one's threats with actions, and I wasn't really the sort of person to get into a physical fight without a really good reason. Elliott's unruly lock of hair didn't seem to qualify.

“I don't believe I've ever had two women fight over my hair while I was still half-asleep,” Elliott commented, looking from me to Deidre and back again. “I am unsure of the protocol. Should I thank you for the compliment, or point out that I am not in a state conducive to the reception of visitors?”

“Definitely the latter,” I said, getting up and taking Deidre by the arm. I hustled her toward the door. She didn't like it, but short of getting into the aforementioned physical fight, she didn't have much of a choice. “I'll give an A for effort, but man, did you fail this exercise. You're going to have to try harder than that if you want to win the Queen Hussy crown.”

I was still smiling when I shut the door on her angry face.

“You do realize that the implication is that you yourself hold that crown, yes?” Elliott asked.

I considered his naked form as he made his way to the bathroom. Parts of him looked happy to see me, but that could just be the fact that he'd been asleep for a long time, and had to use the facilities. “I realize that, but it seemed like a really good line, and I hate to miss the chance to use a good line. How do you feel?”

He waited until he'd finished washing his hands before he answered. “A bit groggy, since I was dreaming when Deidre barged in, but if you are referring to my back, quite well.” His face screwed up for a moment. “Am I misremembering, or did I fall asleep waiting for you? I
have vague memories of not wishing to startle you with my erection, but there are no follow-up memories of you reassuring me that you weren't in the least bit startled, and were, in fact, quite approving of the manner in which you cause me to be almost instantly hard.”

I looked at his penis. It was decidedly less happy now that he had visited the bathroom, but even as I watched, it started to look more interested in me.

“That's got to be just about the nicest thing a man has said to me. Yes, you were asleep when I came out of the bathroom last night.” I dragged my gaze up from his nether regions. “Is there a reason you had my pirate hat on your crotch? Were you expecting me to play hide-and-seek with your naughty bits? Or did you just want a hat for him?”

“I have a hat for it, actually.” Elliott made a vague gesture with one hand. “Well, it's more of a full-body suit, really.”

“Is that a euphemism for a condom?”

“No.” He marched past me and lay down on the bed. “My mother knitted me a willy-warmer a few years back when we were having a cold stretch. She felt I wasn't likely to produce the grandchildren she desires if I had, as she put it, frost-shriveled parts.”

“What a thoughtful mom.” I crawled onto the bed and sat on my heels, leaning down to kiss him. His mouth was warm and intriguing. “Do I take it that you want to have rompy time now? Because I'm game for it if you are.”

One of his hands slid up my thigh to my hip. “You have too many clothes on, if we are. And yes, I'd like that, assuming you're not angry with me.”

My breath hitched when his fingers splayed across my bare thigh. “Friends don't let friends have angry sex?”

“Something like that.” He pulled me down so he could nuzzle my breasts through my T-shirt.

“Is that what we are? Friends?” My voice had a decidedly rough edge to it that I blamed on his morning whiskers as they brushed across my breasts. Even through my T-shirt and bra, I could feel the abrasion. It made my nipples cheer with happiness.

“I'd like to think so,” he murmured against one breast before tipping his head back. His reddish brown whiskers glinted in the sunlight that streamed in through the window. Through it, I had a glimpse of another castle ruins, but at that moment, the only sight I wanted to see was sprawled out before me. “If you are asking if we are anything more, I would have to say that I don't know. Do you?”

I bit his nose, then kissed it, then kissed him properly, little shivers of delight rippling down to my toes at the rasp of his tongue next to mine. “I don't know what we are, either,” I managed finally to say. “Other than—”

His cell phone, which was on the nightstand next to his side of the bed, buzzed and started playing a tune indicative of a call.

“Really?” I said as he reached for it. “‘Moves Like Jagger'?”

“That would be one of my brothers' fault. Rupert got to my phone one day and reprogrammed my manly, uncomplicated ringtone with various embarrassing songs. I still haven't cleaned out all of them.” He frowned at the phone. “Er . . . I should probably take this.”

I patted his leg as I got off the bed and headed for the bathroom. “That's fine, I need to take a shower after jogging around the deck a bazillion times. Tell your penis to think happy thoughts until I'm back.”

It was tempting to stick my ear to the bathroom door in an attempt to overhear what call Elliott had to take, but I told myself that there was nothing unusually mysterious about getting a phone call. If the cost hadn't been so prohibitive, I would have been calling back home and gloating to various girlfriends about the fact that I was snuggle-bunny to a real-life baron. As it was, I managed to post online for their delectation not only pictures of the various sights I'd visited but several shots covertly taken of Elliott. My Facebook page never had so many likes. I was still smiling smugly to myself over that when I emerged from the bathroom. “All righty, here I am, all clean and ready to get dirty again.”

Wrapped in nothing but a large towel, I sashayed my way over to him, but stopped when I got a good look at his face. It was as unhappy as his penis. “What's wrong, Elliott?”

He set down the phone that he was still holding. “I'm not sure if I should tell you.”

For ten horrible seconds, every disasterous scenario I'd ever imagined ran through my brain. “Oh my god, has a war broken out? Another terrorist attack? Is one of my friends dead?”

He got up quickly, and took my hands in his, saying, “No, nothing like that. I'm sorry to have frightened you.”

“Oh, thank god.” I took a couple of deep breaths and willed my pulse to return to normal. “I hope it's not something with your family.”

“It's not.” He stood holding my hands, an odd look on his face. “Alice, you haven't been in communication with Patrick, have you?”

“No. Why?”

He let go of my hands, rubbing his face while looking
extremely thoughtful. “Then how the hell did he know we had . . . erm . . . become lovers?”

Confusion quickly gave way to overwhelming guilt. “Um . . . he might have seen it online.”

“Seen
what
online?”

I sat on the edge of the bed and felt about three inches high. “I . . . er . . . posted some pictures of you on my Facebook page. I didn't put your name or anything, so no one can identify you, but I wanted to show you off to my friends. So I put up a couple of pictures of you, and said we were having a great time, and . . . and . . . well, it's possible he saw them there, and drew obvious conclusions. Why, did he call you?”

“Yes.” His lips twisted, and he, too, sat on the edge of the bed. “He tore a strip off me, as a matter of fact. I pointed out that he had broken up with you, and you had accepted that fact and moved on, but evidently Patrick feels that I had no right to, as he put it, put my move on you.”

“Now it's my turn be annoyed and flattered at the same time,” I said, wanting to lean into him, but feeling too unsure of myself to do so. “It's nice to think that he was having regrets, but . . .”

“But you've moved on,” Elliott said, nodding his head. He said it so matter-of-factly that it didn't occur to me that it might have been more a question than not. I was too busy wondering why Elliott was so bent out of shape over the pictures I'd posted.

“I defriended him after we broke up, but I guess he's using a mutual friend to spy on my posts and pictures.” I gnawed my lower lip. It wasn't as if I'd posted anything risqué, I told the judgmental side of my mind. There was one shirtless picture that had all my girlfriends
swooning, but the rest of them were perfectly decent. Well, perhaps the one where he was naked on the bed, sound asleep, with the pirate hat over his naughty bits might have pushed the limits of the word “decent,” but that picture was grainy and slightly out of focus, so I didn't feel it provided too much of an invasion of Elliott's privacy.

Guilt hit me even harder. I was in the wrong, and I knew it. While an ordinary man might not mind his lover posting pictures of him online, someone who was involved with a covert activity certainly wouldn't want his image plastered all over the Internet.

If I needed more proof that Elliott was involved in something secretive, I just had it. And what had I done? Only blown his cover, that's all. “I'm so sorry. I didn't think about . . . er . . .” Should I mention that I knew he had a secret life? His expression was grim—maybe now wasn't the best time to let him know I was on to the truth about his covert activities. “I just didn't think. That's my biggest failing if you hadn't figured it out by now. My friends are always telling me that I don't think before I do stuff, and boy, are they right this time.”

I grabbed my phone and stabbed at the screen, deleting all of the pictures of Elliott that I'd so happily posted. I wanted badly to tell him that I'd do whatever I needed to do to fix his cover, but I had a feeling he'd had enough of my interference.

“It's not your fault,” he said slowly, looking as if a boa constrictor had a hold of his testicles. “I thought you understood . . . I thought we were clear about it all, but I gather I was mistaken.”

Clear about what, the fact that he was a spy, or at least involved in something very covert? Did he know that I knew? Was I supposed to acknowledge that, or were we
pretending that I didn't know? I was so confused, I just sat there in a big, unhappy lump. “I'm sorry,” I said again, at a loss. I didn't know what I should say out loud, and what he wanted to remain unsaid.