Universal Alien (3 page)

“G
OD, WHAT NOW?”
Chuckie asked as he looked at the screen Falk was staring at.

I did the same. The game wasn't on. Instead it was the anchor team for whatever sports news station that was covering the game. Couldn't hear them, but the stadium had closed-captioning on all the screens, and I could certainly read.

The general insinuation was that it was obvious I hated cricket. The discussion centered on whether I hated the sport, hated the Aussies, hated politics, hated the Armstrongs, hated my husband, or hated Chuckie. Or some combination thereof.

“Wow, does it get any better than this?”

“Probably,” Evalyne said as she took my other arm. “Heading to the Excuse Station with Cyclone,” she said into her lapel.

Chuckie laughed as Evalyne led me away and to the bathroom, the rest of my Secret Service detail trailing us. “I really need to go,” I lied.

She snorted. “Right.” We got inside and she and Phoebe, my other female Secret Service agent, checked every single stall. The couple of women who were in there finished up and scurried out.

I knew without checking that the four male Secret Service agents were blocking both doors to this bathroom, two to each entrance, meaning that no one else, other than Elaine Armstrong or another woman within our little Circle of Protection, could come in here until I left. Under normal circumstances, this meant I was the fastest woman in the world in here. Today, I didn't feel the need to rush.

“You don't have to pretend to go for our sakes,” Phoebe said. “You're probably doing less political damage in here anyway.”

Per Chuckie, and I saw no reason to doubt him, most Secret Service agents didn't act informally with their assigned subjects. However, I'd managed to stand the official Secret Service formality for about a day.

Then I'd had a very private and meaningful talk with those assigned to me, wherein, assisted by Len and Kyle, I explained that they would call me Kitty, I would call them by their first names, and we would act like normal people whenever we were in private, or I would make life a living hell for one and all.

They'd all seen the wisdom of being casual. Len and Kyle had also shared how I rolled with them. Falk had chimed in with his impressions of me, too. Basically, no one on my protection detail could claim that they didn't understand how I operated. Which, happily, appeared to be working out. We were, by now, one big informal family whenever we were in private. This meant, among other things, that I got honesty from the people who understood far more about what was going on than I did.

“Thanks, Pheebs. I appreciate the support. It's not my fault this is the most boring game ever created.”

Evalyne shook her head. “It's not that. At all.”

“Really? It is to me.”

“No,” Phoebe said. “Evalyne's right.”

“Explain what you mean, Ev. It has to be more interesting than whatever's going on out on the field.”

Evalyne sighed. “Look, if, before your husband moved into the Vice Presidency, you'd been bored, and the three of us had been wandering around, trying to find something to do, and we'd stumbled upon this game? You'd have suggested we give it a try, because it's something new. We'd have gone in, you'd have asked someone near us what was going on, you'd have listened and paid attention. Then you'd have looked at the program. You'd have chosen which team to root for based on which team had the cutest guys, or which team had the most impressive record, or, preferably, the team with both.”

“Or you'd have supported the team of whomever we were sitting by,” Phoebe said. “Then, you'd have gotten into the game. By the end, you'd be a fan. Maybe not a huge fan, but you'd have your team, have a favorite player, and have made friends with those sitting around us.”

“How can you assume that?”

They both sighed. “We've read up on you, it's required,” Phoebe replied. “Think about it. If the scenario we just described had happened, wouldn't you be having fun?”

Considered this. “I guess so. Probably.”

“You're not enjoying yourself because you're being forced to be here,” Evalyne said. “Everyone tried to cram this knowledge down your throat, so instead of it being a fun outing, it's a job. And it's a job you didn't sign up for.”

Washed my hands slowly. Not that I needed to, but that way I'd be able to honestly say I'd used something in the bathroom. “I suppose you're right. So, how do I fix it? And, based on what Burton pointed to on the TVs, I need to fix it.”

“Just pretend no one spent the last week trying to make you like and understand this sport,” Evalyne suggested. “Look at it as a sociological experiment. You need to determine what it is that everyone likes about this game. Two of the men close to you love the game—why? Focus on figuring it out, not fighting against it.”

“I can do that. I think.”

Phoebe shook her head. “They've made you so tentative. I understand why you're rebelling.”

“Jeff didn't become VP because he wanted to. He did it because it was the right thing to do for our people and country.”

“I didn't mean the Vice President. Or any of your allies.” Phoebe shrugged. “But your enemies' attacks are taking their toll. And I don't mean their physical attacks. I mean the ones you're trying to handle here—the innuendo, the insinuations, the pressure to be some sort of perfect political wife.”

“Yeah. All that sucks.”

“And it's affecting you negatively,” Evalyne said. “So, let's go out and get you some coffee. Then, try to figure out why much of the world thinks this sport is the best thing going. It'll at least make you look like you're paying attention.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

We left the bathroom to find Chuckie and the rest of my detail standing there. The A-Cs each had two cardboard trays with four cups each. We were carting a lot of coffee. Maybe I'd make it through after all.

Chuckie had a giant cup in his hand, which he gave to me. “They make lattes here. It's a triple vanilla latte with lots of extra vanilla in it.”

“I love you. And I say that with full knowledge that someone's lurking in the shadows and that it will be on the news within the hour.”

“Let's get back, I want to see what I can of the match.”

“Oh sure, it's all about
you
.”

We chuckled all the way to the edge of the concourse, me happily sipping my latte. To find that the crowd was very animated.

People were jumping up and down and acting like normal sports fans for the first time. There were a set of older men who were flashing the V for Victory sign at each other, only their palms were turned in, not out. Figured this was how the Aussies or cricket fans in general did it. Nothing else was normal about this game, so their “we're winning” sign being a little backward was par for the course. The crowd was, hands down, the most excited they'd been since getting inside the stadium.

Because the crowd was standing and we were no longer around the TVs, I couldn't actually see what was going on down on the field. However, clearly it was a big deal thing, and per my chat with my Secret Service gals, I needed to get with the program. And what better way to do so than to share in the joy of whatever had happened while we were getting coffee?

We hustled back to our seats, to see everyone in our section standing as well, meaning I still couldn't see what all the fuss was about. However, I was going to show willing or I was going to die trying.

Due to the fact that everyone had something in their hands, other than the Secret Service detail, who were doing their usual Threat Watch activities, Chuckie was ahead of me going down the stairs. To let me into my seat, he and Manfred walked down and handed Jeff one of the trays of coffees, clearly for him and the rest of the bigwigs.

I was taking a step down as the Prime Minister turned around and smiled at me. I flashed him the Aussie V for Victory sign.

And all hell broke loose.

Certain moments of your life move in slow motion. This was one of them.

As I held my hand up, I saw Chuckie go from relaxed to horrified. He lost his grip on the coffee tray as he lunged up toward me, shouting, “Noooooo!”

Peripheral vision showed that Raj who, like the rest of the crowd, was standing, had spun toward me at hyperspeed and was also lunging for me.

The Prime Minister's expression went from pleasant to seriously pissed off. Then it went to freaked, as Jeff, who barely had a grip on the coffee tray, spun around to see what was going on. This, of course, meant that the coffees flew out of his control and, seeing as this was my life, slammed into the Prime Minister and his wife, while managing to splatter the Armstrongs as well.

All of this happened in a split second, and in that split second, I also managed to lose my balance. As I went down, my coffee flew into the air and, because of how I'd been standing and holding the cup, it sailed right at the Prime Minister. A direct hit, too.

I spun to try not to slam my face into a chair or concrete steps. Managed it, but wasn't able to tuck my head too well, which was a pity, because I hit, hard.

The last thing I saw before I blacked out was Jeff, Chuckie, and Raj, all looking freaked out and pissed off. Not the nicest vision, really.

Y
ESTERDAY HAD PRETTY MUCH SUCKED.
I was glad it was past, and had no idea how today was going to go, but one bad day in the past was always better than a bad day in the present or future.

No matter what the day or even night had been like, though, we managed to keep one thing sacred—the morning. It's hard to train kids to get up a little later, and harder to train non-morning-people to wake up early, but we'd done both.

I loved this time, as my husband ran his hands over me, then pulled me close up against him. “Mmmm, morning, baby.”

I turned over and snuggled my face into the hair on his chest. He was more morning compatible than me, so he took my kissing his pecs as a decent greeting.

Snuggling turned into more, quickly, helped by his hands stroking my breasts and his tongue stroking my neck. He knew all the right spots to spend time on. As I started to moan, he chuckled against my skin. “Sing for me, Kitty.”

Our house was well soundproofed, and, really, he was on “the” spot, so I acquiesced. I was a good, totally turned-on wife that way.

I remained turned on while he slid my nightie and his pajama pants off. Of course, he was still stroking my neck with his tongue and nipping it with his teeth and touching me all over, which might have had something to do with my sounding like a cat in heat.

As he slid into me my wailing increased. All this time together and he was still the Gold Standard, and he proceeded to do all the things he knew I liked. Of course, I liked a lot, so he had plenty of options to go for in order to practice and perfect his technique.

We did have a bit of a sexual routine though, centering mostly around how fast he could bring me to orgasm the first time. This morning, as he rolled onto his back and put me on top of him, the first one arrived quickly. As he thrust into me and I rubbed against him it hit and I gasped. “Oh . . . God . . . so good.”

“That's what I like to hear.” He pulled me to him and kissed me deeply as my body shuddered.

Once I quieted, a bit, he moved us into a sitting position, my legs wrapped around his back. We'd used this position a lot when I was pregnant and still liked it. He was deeper inside me, but not in an uncomfortable way, and it was very romantic, too.

Our arms were wrapped around each other, and he kissed me deeply again as we rocked together, each little thrust sending him a bit deeper inside me, making me start to shudder from pleasure again.

His arms were tight around me, as one hand slid up the back of my neck and into my hair and the other went down to the small of my back. I clutched at the back of his shoulders as we went faster and faster. How long we were like this I wasn't sure because I was focused on all the feelings he created inside me and out. But ultimately the friction increased to the point where I couldn't have kept myself from climaxing if I'd tried. Not that I'd ever tried that in my life, and saw no reason to start this morning.

I flipped over the edge and he joined me. The feeling of him erupting into me made my legs tighten around him as I moaned into his mouth and he growled with pleasure in return.

We stayed like this, kissing each other and stroking each other's backs, until our bodies quieted. Then we untwined and lay back down, his arm around my shoulders, holding me close, my head on his chest, playing with the hair there.

He kissed my head. “I love you, Kitty.”

I heaved a happy, fulfilled sigh. “I love you, too, Chuckie.”