Carole Remy

TWELVE NIGHTS

Chapter 1

Personal ad in the New York Times, October 28, 1997

$120,000 + Expenses

Rich man wants companion for 12 nights. Attractive normal female. Never married. No children. Over 30 years old. No prostitutes. Reply to box 74716.

Angel examined her reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator. Shoulder length auburn hair, every gilded strand in curled place. Eyes jade green to match earrings. She held up her hand. The red-tipped nails contrasted nicely with the sheer ink black slip dress. She slid a hand across the fragile macramé-knotted skimmer that barely hid her mounded breasts. Men loved knots. Her lacy black panties showed just enough, she noted as her hand slid down a flat stomach. She cupped and squeezed her mound of Venus gently in passing. Time to get to work.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped onto a plush oriental carpet. Her fuck-me high heels sank into the luxuriant wool and one ankle twisted.

“Shit,” she murmured as she righted herself. She rotated her ankle, then stepped on confidently.

Angel’s eyes flicked sideways as she approached the door to suite 1027. The room was the last in the hall and the elevator several yards and a heavy fire door away. She slicked her hands once again down already smooth sides and lifted her hand to knock. The door opened.

“Come on in, honey.”

Angel lowered her hand and smiled. The man was older and balding. They usually were. He wore a white dress shirt, no tie and dark gray pants. His belly paunched over a braided leather belt. Mushy thighs, Angel thought, and smiled harder.

The man reached his hand toward Angel’s arm and she let herself be drawn into the room. Standard hotel-expensive. King size bed. Midnight blue bedspread. Matching sofa with red accent pillows. Card-size table and two padded armchairs. Armoire with entertainment. Small bar fridge. Probably a jacuzzi in the bathroom. She noted the expensive shoes aligned beside the dresser. A precise man, despite the paunch.

She reached up to touch the man’s cheek.

“Are you ready to have a good time?” Her voice was husky and moist.

Angel’s hand slid down to cup the man’s crotch. He was limp and she squeezed gently.

“What’s your name, honey?” she asked.

“You can call me Captain.”

The man lifted Angel’s hand from his crotch and squeezed it in his own.

“Three hundred bucks an hour, right?” he asked.

Angel nodded.

“No rush.” The man grinned. “There’s a thousand dollars in my briefcase for you if you make me happy, sweetheart.”

Three hours.

“My name’s Angel.”

“You’re very pretty, Angel.”

“Thank you. Would you like me to strip for you?”

“You let me decide what I want and when, girlie,” the man’s voice coarsened then smoothed as he continued. “I’ll let you know.”

“That’s fine,” Angel agreed.

She tugged gently to release her hand but the man held it firmly and led her to the table. He bent her wrist to seat her. Too late she saw the handcuff that dangled from one arm of the chair. She swung her free arm toward the man’s face, but he blocked her fist with his forearm and wrenched her other wrist down to the chair arm.

“Go ahead,” he grunted. “I like a little fight.”

Angel lifted her foot to kick his shin. She heard the click of the handcuff as her foot swung awkwardly past the man’s sidestepping leg. Her motion threw her across the chair and she cried out as the handcuff bit into the flesh of her wrist. The man righted her in the chair, then swung back his hand and slapped her across the cheek. The back of her head hit the chair and bounced forward. The same hand that slapped her then cradled her chin gently and turned her head from side to side.

“A red mark from my fingers, but no bruising,” the man said. “Behave yourself or it’ll go worse for you.”

“I am going to leave,” Angel stood slowly and grabbed the chair in both hands. She held the chair in front of her like a lion tamer.

“I don’t think so,” the man taunted.

He put both hands on a bottom strut of the chair and jerked it forward. His force snapped the chair out of Angel’s hands and the handcuff bit again deep into her wrist. She looked down at the trickle of blood that ran toward her matching fingertips. She started to cry.

“I told you, girlie…”

“My name is Angel,” she interrupted.

The man twitched the chair and fresh blood trickled down Angel’s wrist.

“Girlie, you do what I say and I won’t hurt you.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Say, ‘Yes, sir, Captain.’”

“Yes, sir, Captain.” The words were a thread that bound her to him as securely as the handcuffs.

He righted the chair.

“Sit down,” he commanded. Angel sat.

“Now the rule is very simple,” he explained. “You don’t hurt me, and I don’t hurt you.”

“Yes,…” she began.

“Maybe,” he interrupted and laughed. “Are you scared?”

“Yes,” she paused, “sir, Captain.”

“Good. Feel my cock. Gently.” Angel reached her unbound hand forward and patted the bulge in his pants. “Thought I couldn’t get it up, huh?”

Angel lifted watery eyes.

“I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Let’s see your titties, Angel. How do you get that dress off?”

“Over my head.”

“Well, go ahead.”

The captain stood inches in front of Angel as she twisted in the chair, trying to bring her left shoulder down to her handcuffed right hand. At last she grasped the macramé skimmer and stretched it out to pass beneath her elbow. Once her arm was free, she slid the knotted garment over her head and down to rest against the bound wrist. She glanced up then at the captain and found his eyes eagerly probing the sheer fabric that barely shadowed her breasts.

“Lift your arm,” he commanded.

Angel raised her unbound limb and closed her eyes as the Captain stroked her underarm. She flinched automatically away from even the gentle touch.

“Hold still.” His voice was calmer now, as though he spoke to a skittish animal.

Angel forced her nerve endings to relax as he ran first the pads and then the nails of his fingers up and down her smooth armpit.

“Stand up.”

Angel shifted her weight forward and held her arm aloft as she tipped onto her feet. She could not stand erect, but hunched toward the handcuffed wrist. The man grasped the slip dress at the hem and pulled it slowly inside out as he raised it across her body. The silk slid over exercise-taut curves and the heat of the man’s fingers reached out through the sheer fabric toward Angel’s skin. At last the dress lay puddled on the arm of the chair. Angel watched as her blood stained the black silk to a shiny gloss.

“Bend over the chair.” The man’s voice was hoarse.

Angel stood, placed a hand on each arm of the chair and bent at the waist. Now at least she knew what to expect. She heard the snick of a zipper sliding down. Maybe he would be quick. She knelt forward to rest her knees on the padded front edge of the seat.

“Spread your knees.”

“My panties.”

“Take them off.”

Angel crouched and wiggled as she stripped off the black lace one-handed. She started to step out of her shoes.

“Leave them on.”

Angel resumed her position and spread her knees as far apart as the chair would allow. She ducked her head and rounded her back, lifting her hips in invitation.

“You like to butt-fuck, girlie?”

“I don’t do that,” Angel protested. “Didn’t the secretary…”

“I guess the connection wasn’t too good,” he laughed. “Don’t you tense up now.”

Rough hands grasped the twin globes of Angel’s rear and pulled the flesh apart.

“Use a condom,” Angel gritted through clenched teeth.

“I’m clean,” the man boasted.

“Maybe I’m not,” Angel insisted. “There’s a condom in my purse.”

The hands left her backside and a moment later Angel heard the rip of a foil pouch. She sighed in relief. Beside the safety factor, the condom was well-lubricated and would make his entry easier. She braced herself as the uncouth hands again parted her rear. The man thrust hard and missed the opening by a fraction of an inch.

“Go slower,” Angel gasped. “Guide it in.”

“Glad you’ve decided to be cooperative, girlie.”

The man eased the tip of his cock into Angel’s anus and she breathed deeply to contain the pain and pressure without struggling. Then he clenched his fists on her hipbones and thrust hard. Angel cried out as the sudden assault stretched her beyond silent endurance. The man’s hands were a vise, pinning her bottom to the unholy shaft.

“That’s it, girlie. Fight a little,” the man encouraged.

He stroked out once, too far for comfort, and slammed back in too quickly. Angel bit her lip and tasted salty sweet blood. She tried to focus on the sting and the blood and to block out the greater pain of the lower assault.

“Pretty big, huh?” the man bragged.

“Yes,” Angel gasped.

The man pumped in and out, each time too much, too fast, too brutal. Finally his cock swelled in Angel’s rear and she prayed for an ending. The last strokes were beyond her endurance and she cried out with each until her scream became a continuous whimpering protest. She never felt the feeble spurt of cum as he continued pumping until his cock wilted. At last he withdrew.

Angel sighed and slumped forward into the chair though the man’s hands still cradled her hipbones. His fingers would leave long yellow and purple bruises. She would not be able to work until they faded. Angel stopped short. Work? If there was a God, she’d never work again. She breathed deeply as she waited for the man to undo the handcuffs.

Instead she felt the hands clench on her bruised bones. She shifted with discomfort and tried to ease away from the pressure. The man lifted her buttocks so that she perched on her elbows and toes, then sank his teeth into her bottom. Angel cried out at the unexpectedly sharp pain. The man licked the bite mark.

“Like that?” he asked.

He bit her again and Angel could not suppress the whimper that rose from deep in her throat.

“Please don’t,” she begged. “Please.”

She felt the teeth sink in and the tongue suck as the man wrenched her flesh. Would he bite out a piece of her buttock? Tears of pain and terror ran down Angel’s face and dripped onto the brocade seat of the chair. Then mercifully the teeth lifted, leaving only the throbbing ache of mangled flesh.

Angel waited for the next assault. Her knees buckled as she heard the rip of another condom wrapper. She turned and sat in the chair.

“No,” she protested.

Angel watched as the man walked toward his briefcase. Thank God. Just pay me and let me leave. But what did he want with the condom? Visions of sadistic sex toys shriveled the breath in her chest. But the man withdrew only a wad of cash. He peeled off three bills and waved them at Angel.

“Three hundred dollars, girlie,” he sneered. “You didn’t last long.”

Just let me out of here, Angel thought, but her voice protested, “You said a thousand dollars.”

“You don’t have any stamina, bitch. Be glad I’m paying you at all.”

He rolled the bills tightly and pushed them to the bottom of the uncoiled condom as Angel watched in growing horror.

“Back in position, girlie,” the man directed.

“No,” Angel refused.

“I can make you,” the man reminded her.

“I don’t want the money. Just let me leave.”

The man raised his hand to slap Angel’s face.

“Get in position.”

Angel stood and bent over the chair.

“Say ‘yes, sir, Captain,’” he ordered.

“Yes, sir, Captain.”

“Beg me to give you your money.”

Angel was silent until she felt warm breath against her buttock. As the teeth pressed slowly into her bruised flesh, she whispered, “Please give me my money.”

“Say, ‘Please put the money up my ass.’”

Again the words resisted in Angel’s chest until she forced them through her teeth.

“Please put the money up my ass.”

She felt the fingers as they separated her buttocks and then the slim greasy rod as it slid inside. Not too far, she silently begged. The man pulled her buttocks further open and slid two fingers in behind the condom-wrapped bills. He pushed and the rod scraped as it moved deep inside her. He withdrew his fingers, then inserted one again as he tucked the loose ends of the condom deep inside her.

“You can shit your money, bitch.”

Angel barely contained the gorge that rose in her throat.

“Can I go now?” she whispered.

“Put on your clothes.”

“Could you undo the handcuff?” Angel asked. “Please.”

“Put on your clothes first.”

The man lay back on the bed. Angel struggled to pull the slip dress over her body. The bodice, sticky with blood from her wrist, stuck to the side of her breast in a foul wet kiss. She sat down and pulled on her panties. The small packet in her rear was a barely felt reminder of further indignities to come. Last she attempted the macramé skimmer, but could not get it over her unbound shoulder. She looked at the man.

“Will you undo the handcuff, please? Captain, sir.”

The man unlocked the cuff and Angel stood and reached for the macramé covering.

“Leave it,” the man ordered.

I’m too bare, Angel thought. I don’t want to leave you a souvenir. But she dropped the skimmer without protest and walked awkwardly to the door. The little obscene packet shifted in her bottom and she clenched her buttocks. A moment later she took a deep breath as the elevator door closed behind her. Never, she vowed. She would never sell herself again. She turned her eyes away from the elevator mirror.

Outside, Angel took in great gulp of New York’s smoggy downtown air. Then she took a cab to an all night medical clinic. The nurse cleaned her cut lip, bound up her still bleeding wrist and gave her a tetanus shot. Angel found at the last moment that she could not ask the woman to remove the condom and money from her ass. Later. She would deal with it later.

The next morning Angel left her apartment early. The captain wouldn’t have recognized her in her morning persona. Her hair was swept back in a loose pony tail. Her eyes were their true color, an indiscriminate gray/hazel/blue that assumed the tint of whatever she wore. Today her sweatshirt was a faded gray and so were her eyes. Still her cheekbones rose gracefully high and her nose, now red tipped, was slim and straight. Her lips had lost their carefully applied pout and met the world battered but unadorned.

Turning out of her apartment doorway, Angel strode off briskly down the sidewalk, swinging her arms to keep warm and stretching her legs to ease the ache in her buttocks. She rounded the first corner and stepped into an ornate doorway. She dropped three hundred dollars in the collection box of the open church, though she didn’t stop to kneel or pray. Her stomach rumbled and she decided to walk to a diner for a bagel and coffee. On the corner before the diner was a familiar newsstand.

“Angel!” the proprietor greeted her. “You’re up early today.”

Angel shrugged and reached for a New York Times.

“Hey, check out the personals, Angel,” her friend advised. “Some nut case is offering a hundred twenty thousand dollars for a twelve-night stand. Takes all kinds, huh?”

Angel smiled and handed him sixty cents.

“I’ll take a look,” she promised.

Inside the diner, Angel carried her bagel and coffee to a sunny table by a window. She sipped the coffee slowly, wincing when the hot ceramic touched her bruised lip. She slathered the bagel with butter and cream cheese. Then she opened the newspaper to the personals and lifted the dripping pastry to her lips.

Chapter 2

Sun streamed through the window behind the desk, backlighting the occupant and throwing his visitor into stark relief. A ray glinted off the younger man’s tie clip and danced across the bare desktop.

“So?” the voice behind the desk growled a challenge. He tossed a folded newspaper to his employee. “Sit down.”

He waved the young man toward a deep leather chair. Cool blue eyes skimmed the circled ad.

“Yours?” he asked.

The older man nodded.

“Your legal liability on this would be through the roof,” the lawyer spoke apologetically. “I’m sorry, Jimmy, but you can’t do it.”

“Your job is to figure out how I can, Richard. Write a contract or something.”

“Jimmy, be reasonable.”

“I’m forty-two in two months. What have I got?”

“Close to half a billion dollars,” the younger man offered.

“A little over,” Jimmy shrugged. “What did you do last night, Richard?”

“Me?” The lawyer hesitated then continued. “I left the office at about nine. I went home and watched the news and went to bed.”

“Exactly. What did you eat for dinner?”

“Stouffer’s lasagna,” Richard grinned.

“We’re too solitary, Richard. When was the last time you had a date?”

“I don’t date.”

Jimmy observed the flush that ruddied his lawyer’s cheeks and remembered the quagmire from which he had plucked his most valuable employee.

“But we’re not talking about me, Jimmy,” Richard continued. “You date.”

“I don’t date, Richard, I liaise. Social climbers and sycophants, those are the women I meet.”

“You have a niece and a nephew.”

“Twice removed and living in Toronto,” Jimmy huffed.

“You have your brother Danny.”

“That’s true. You’re right. I have a brother. Don’t you ever want your own woman, Richard?”

“Jimmy,” the lawyer ignored the question, then hesitated.

“It’s okay. Spit it out.”

“You can get any woman you want, Jimmy. Just crook your finger.”

“I don’t meet nice normal women, Richard. I want a woman who won’t particularly care about the money.”

“An ad in the paper won’t get you somebody you’re going to want, Jimmy.”

“So, give me a choice.”

“Go to church.”

Jimmy snorted. “You know what they say about rich men and camels. The nuns wrecked me for good, Richard. I’m not going to church.”

“You can’t kidnap a woman for twelve nights.”

“How is it kidnapping if I pay her $120,000?”

“I don’t think you can ‘buy’ a normal woman like you want, Jimmy.”

“I buy every woman that I meet. You don’t date a guy with half a billion dollars unless you want to be bought.”

“I don’t see how this ad is going to help.”

“Maybe it won’t,” Jimmy admitted. “You want to know the truth?”

Richard nodded.

“I got drunk last night and I phoned the New York fucking Times. I just made up the ad on the phone to the girl.”

“And…”

“So, I’m gonna do it. You figure out how to protect me, protect my money.”

“Okay.” The younger man lifted his hands in defeat. “Let’s look at some logistics.”

“Now we’re talking.” Jimmy rubbed his hands on the knees of his pants. “Get that legal brain in gear.”

“I figure at least a thousand responses.”

“Ten thousand.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the circulation of the New York Times?”

“Ask Danny.” Jimmy pushed a button on his phone. “Find Danny.”

“How do you want to narrow it down to a reasonable number? I assume you want to interview, what, ten?”

“Make it twenty. Hire a firm to read the letters. No, you read them.”

Richard grimaced.

“I don’t pay you $300 an hour to make faces, Richard.” He looked across as the door to the office swung inward on silent hinges. “Come on in, Danny.”

Richard stood and offered his chair to Jimmy’s brother. Danny looked ten years younger than his thirty-two years. If Jimmy had inherited the brains of the family, Danny had gotten the looks. He was tall and firmly built, with lean muscles that filled out his hand-tailored suit. A single lock of dark blonde hair fell strategically across his forehead. He ignored the lawyer and sat on the corner of Jimmy’s desk. Richard reclaimed his chair.

“Circulation of the New York Times, Danny,” Jimmy stated rather than asked.

“One million twenty-nine thousand two hundred eighty-seven on Monday through Saturday. One million six…”

“How the hell did you know that, Danny?” Richard interrupted. Jimmy smiled.

“Read an article in Newsweek,” Danny replied, his words clipped and precise. “Total is accurate as of September 30, 1996.”

He picked up the folded section of the New York Times from Jimmy’s desktop.

“What do you think of…” Richard’s words petered out as he caught the frantic silencing motion of Jimmy’s hand. Danny watched the by-play impassively.

“Can’t wave me off, Jimmy,” he told his brother. “Have to know the rest of the sentence.”

“I put an ad in the paper,” Jimmy explained. “Nothing serious.”

“‘Rich man wants companion for 12 nights.’” Danny quoted. “‘Attractive normal female. Never married. No children. Over thirty years old. No prostitutes.’”

Richard chuckled and shook his head.

“How did you know…” Jimmy began, his face red.

“Just knew,” Danny shrugged. “If one out of every two readers is a woman, and one out of every 100 women answers the ad, you will get 5146 responses.”

“Jesus,” Jimmy shook his head. “Maybe only one in a thousand will answer. Richard, you can fly to New York and pick out the best ones.”

“I’ll arrange for the responses to be shipped here to Vancouver,” Richard amended, “and I’ll work with the secretaries…”

“No,” Jimmy interrupted. His voice was calm but edged in iron. “No one outside this room.”

“I’ll help you, Richard,” Danny offered.

The lawyer’s eyes rolled. He caught Jimmy’s glare and adjusted his expression to bland acceptance. Jimmy sat for a moment in silence.

“Good,” he decided. “Richard, you skim out the crazies. Give any possibles to Danny.”

“But…” Richard ventured tentatively.

Jimmy shook his head.

“Going now,” Danny announced and walked quickly out the door, closing it precisely behind him.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to let Danny get involved in this?” Richard’s voice was low even though the door had shut with a solid thud.

“He’s not the brightest tack on the board,” Jimmy admitted, “but he has a real sixth sense. You remember the Borden merger?”

“One hundred twenty-three million and change in three months.”

“Danny’s idea.”

“What?”

Jimmy nodded. “Besides, he has total recall. He can recite back any letters I want to hear.”

“He’s your brother,” Richard gave in. “Does he ever…”

“Show interest in women?” Jimmy finished the sentence. “Yeah. Keep your eye out for someone for him. Yourself too.”

“Ha,” Richard snorted, then reddened.

“Suit yourself,” Jimmy waved off Richard’s half-apology. “Just write me up an iron-clad contract, and weed the list down to twenty or so.”

“About the contract,” Richard cleared his throat and continued. “I’ll need to know pretty specifically what you’ll expect the young woman to do.”

“Just put in that she won’t get damaged.” Jimmy’s face was as red as Richard’s.

Richard shook his head. “Kramer versus Johnson. Ohio, 1994. You want to get her to agree specifically in writing to everything you want to do. Otherwise she can sue.”

“Put them all in then,” Jimmy blustered. “How the hell do I know now what I’ll feel like doing then?”

“Vaginal intercourse?” Richard’s voice was clinical and impersonal. He might have been making a grocery list.

Jimmy nodded.

“Discipline?”

“You sound like a fucking machine, Richard. Ha, was that a pun?” Jimmy swiveled to look out over the water toward Jericho Beach. “Put it in.”

“Just a lawyer. What about bondage?”

Jimmy waved assent with his hand, then cleared his throat.

“Add sodomy.” His voice was a croak. “Shit. Screw the contract. Screw the whole thing.”

Richard ignored his eruption.

“Artificial stimulation?”

“You mean dildos? I guess.”

“Group sex?”

“What the heck.” Jimmy swung back to face his lawyer and his eye caught Richard’s hand adjusting the bulge in his trousers. He laughed and barked, “Put in every God-damned thing you ever heard of. Just don’t ask me any more questions.”

Chapter 3

Agnes Marie Trout, known to her friends as Aggie, wrapped the scarf firmly around her neck. The Cincinnati wind bit the air in late fall and she wasn’t going to chance a cold throat. She was as tall, thin and auburn-haired as her identical twin sister, Angela, but she hid her figure under layers of baggy clothes and wore her hair in a careless shag. She thought the men, and sometimes women, who stared as she passed were startled by her Annie Hall clothing.

Aggie had decided to go into the library early. A shipment of books had arrived yesterday and she was eager to get them catalogued and shelved. Her small branch didn’t have many employees and though she was the head librarian she didn’t like to leave all the grunt work to the other staff. She backed her car out of the garage and headed down the quiet street, secure in the knowledge that she would be the first to arrive at the library by at least an hour.

Burger King coffee was definitely better than McDonald’s, Aggie thought as she pulled into the drive through. She winced as the young woman handed her the hot cup. Her wrist was sore. She must have slept on it wrong. She balanced an open syrup container on a magazine on the passenger seat and dipped French toast sticks gingerly as she drove the three miles to the library. In the parking lot she savored the last few swallows of coffee in silence.

After she locked her car, she rotated her wrist slowly. Still stiff. Could Angela…?, she wondered then dismissed the thought. She wheeled the bin for overnight book returns through the heavy double entrance door. Four hours later, the new books were catalogued and shelved, the preschoolers had listened spellbound to I Love You Forever and the library had settled into its quiet morning routine.

Aggie sat behind her desk and smiled complacently. Life was good. Lunch would bring Andrew; her mind skipped to visions of a quickie, then she laughed at herself for entertaining the thought. Andrew wasn’t a quickie type of guy. At twenty-five he was three years younger than Aggie. Though he didn’t know it, he was a nerd, and Aggie loved him for it.

Nerds made the best boyfriends. When he wasn’t with her, he was on his computer. If he was on the Internet, she knew he wasn’t downloading smut. More likely playing chess with his long-distance buddies. Maybe he was a little slim and pale, but at least he was tall. At five foot ten, Aggie paid attention to height. The jangling phone interrupted her thought.

“Cincinnati Library, Oakville Branch,” she answered automatically.

“Hi, Pookie.”

“Andrew,” Aggie protested, “you can’t call me that at work. What if someone else had answered the phone?”

“I know your voice,” Andrew explained. “I can’t come for lunch today.”

Andrew never beat around the bush. Telephone conversations were like shorthand.

“That’s okay,” Aggie agreed. “What’s up?”

“The boss has a client in from Sacramento. I have to explain the new network software protocols.” The explanation was a long one for Andrew. Aggie wondered how the client presentation would go, though she knew that Andrew was painstakingly meticulous when detailing computer dogma. He just didn’t like talking on the phone.

“Okay,” she agreed again. “Good luck with it. Come over after work.”

“I can’t be there till 5:45.”

Aggie laughed. Andrew usually came at 5:30.

“That’s all right,” she reassured him. He really was a dear.

That evening Andrew arrived at Aggie’s small brick house on the stroke of 5:45. He knocked on the dark oak door, though Aggie had given him a key months before.

“Come on in,” she greeted him.

He leaned forward into her kiss and took her face in his hands. Minutes later they were naked on Aggie’s old-fashioned sleigh bed. The metal slats bounced with every movement and amplified Andrew’s enthusiastic pumping. He came with a whoop and kissed Aggie’s cheeks and eyes and chin.

“Did you come?” he asked, barely out of breath.

“Yes,” Aggie lied.

“I can do it again,” Andrew offered. Ah, youth.

“Maybe after dinner,” Aggie agreed.

Andrew rolled off her and headed toward the bathroom.

“What do you want to order?” he called back over his shoulder.

Though Aggie looked domesticated, she was near feral in her avoidance of household tasks. An older woman came in once a week and did what she could to keep order in the house. Aggie took her clothes to a laundry service. Her kitchen contained not one pot or pan, but a double set of dishes and cutlery and two dishwashers so she could manage until the housekeeper’s weekly visit. Breakfast was Burger King coffee and lunch at a rotation of five favorite eateries. Dinner however was eaten in the house, usually with Andrew, and thus the need for dishes.

“How about Chinese?” Andrew’s voice drifted in from the bathroom. He was running a shower. Aggie thought about joining him. But her hair would get wet and she hated to go to sleep with a damp head. She stuck her head in the bathroom door.

“We had Chinese on Tuesday. How about Mexican?”

Andrew poked his head out around the curtain. Without his thick glasses and with his hair slicked down, he looked closer to twelve than twenty-five. Aggie smiled indulgently.

“If you really want Chinese,” she offered, “we can.”

“Mexican is fine,” Andrew shouted over the spray. “Try the new one over on Beechmont.”

An hour later the remnants of tacos and enchiladas littered Aggie’s scarred oak table. The dining room furniture had been her maternal grandparents’ and was a comforting inheritance.

“Do you want some more refried beans?” Andrew asked.

“No,” Aggie laughed. “I’ll fart too much.”

“Fart all you want,” Andrew offered. “I don’t care.”

“I will,” Aggie agreed, but she passed on the beans.

Thirty minutes later they were back naked on the bed.

“Do you want the top or the bottom, Aggie?”

“Do you want to try something different?”

“That depends what,” Andrew hedged.

“How about on the table?”

“Won’t that be uncomfortable for you?”

“I don’t mind. Do you want to try it?”

“In the dining room?”

“That’s where the table is.”

“But then we’ll think about it, you know, the next time we’re eating.”

“That’s the idea,” Aggie teased. She pulled a packet of condoms from the bedside drawer. Then she took Andrew’s hand and led him out the door. As they passed the closed curtains in the living room, he reached down an automatic hand to cover his limp cock. Aggie detoured into the bathrom and grabbed a large fluffy towel.

“You lie down first,” she directed Andrew as she spread the towel on the table. “I’m going to eat you for dessert.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Andrew scrambled to lie back on the table. Aggie grabbed his narrow hips and pulled his buttocks to the end of the table.

“Put some chairs for my feet,” Andrew directed. “They’re dangling.”

Once Andrew was comfortable, Aggie leaned between his knees and stroked her tongue up his rising organ.

“Yum.”

She stroked and teased until the cock was solid and Andrew moaning, then she eased her mouth down over the shaft. Andrew immediately started to pump, but she pinned his hips to the table.

“Hold still,” she directed.

“Don’t stop,” he gasped.

Her mouth descended again and her teeth nuzzled the ridges of Andrew’s now throbbing organ. Still holding him pinned to the table, Aggie stroked her lips and teeth up and down the eager cock, sucking and milking it to rock solid readiness. When she could no longer contain the pulsing of Andrew’s hips, she lifted her mouth off of him.

“No,” he groaned. “You have to finish me.”

Unrestrained, his hips pounded up and down into the empty air. His right hand grabbed at his cock to massage it to completion, but Aggie grabbed the hand in both hers and held it tight.

“Do me now,” she panted.

“What?”

“I want to have an orgasm now,” she demanded.

“Now?” Andrew sounded bewildered. “Now?”

“Yes,” Aggie insisted. “I’ll bring you off after you make me come.”

Andrew struggled to sit up, his eyes drugged but willing.

“Okay,” he groaned as his turgid cock waved in the air in front of him.

Aggie helped him off the table and lay down in his place. Ignoring the chairs, she placed her feet on his shoulders as he stood between her legs.

“Eat me,” she offered and commanded. “I’m dessert.”

“Aggie,” Andrew protested. “I’m not very good.”

“Yes you are,” Aggie contradicted him. “Your mouth can make me come till I’m exhausted.”

Andrew grinned. “No way.”

“Yes, way. Get your mouth down here.”

Aggie lifted up on her elbow and grabbed the back of Andrew’s head with one hand. She guided it into place above her cunt.

“Taste me,” she urged. “Do I tasted good?”

Andrew licked.

“You taste sweet and a little salty,” Andrew analyzed.

Aggie laughed. “Get your mouth in there and eat me, you hunk.”

Andrew separated her labia with tentative fingers and stroked down the crack he created. Aggie arched up into his hand.

“Use your tongue,” she whispered.

Andrew settled his mouth between finger-stretched labia and lapped the soft flesh like a little kitten.

“That’s it,” Aggie urged, though that wasn’t it. “You can suck harder if you want to.”

Andrew’s tongue laved her labia with broad strokes. He seemed to be searching for the key to the portal, the key that would unlock her ecstasy.

“A little higher,” Aggie directed.

The tongue shifted up and narrowed and dragged against the little bud that contained the secret entrance.

“Yes,” Aggie gasped. “Right there.”

Andrew stroked harder and faster and Aggie reached up toward him. Her hands stroked and pulled his hair as his tongue herded her toward fulfillment. So close, so close. But not far enough. Bite me, she wanted to say. Be a little rougher. Touch my asshole. Just stroke it. The inner fantasy became more insistent. Hold my knees apart. Restrain me, the voice commanded. Put your finger up my ass, Don’t give me a choice. Make me come.

“Do anything you want to, Andrew,” Aggie whispered. Please do the things I want.

“Like what?” Andrew lifted his head to ask.

Aggie groaned.

“Come inside me now,” she offered.

“Did you come?”

“I want to come with you inside me.”

Andrew tore off a condom and rolled it down his still solid shaft.

“Here?” he asked. “On the table.”

Aggie nodded. Andrew shrugged and lifted her buttocks. With her feet still resting on his shoulders, he bent forward over her and slid himself inside. Aggie tightened around him, and the unfamiliar position and the pressure of his shoulders against her legs awakened the beast she had tried to tease into awareness before. She felt the orgasm approach and hugged the anticipation into her squeezing vagina. Andrew panted and pumped above her and she closed her eyes and imagined. He shocks me. His hand slips down my backside and parts my buttocks and I protest no, but I mean yes and he slips his finger inside me. His finger is big, no it’s two fingers and he strokes me and strokes me brutally front and back. In and in and out the cock pounded and the rhythm and the fantasy engulfed Aggie’s slow-burning heart and flooded her with shudders and moans.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

As the trembling subsided and sense returned, she stroked Andrew’s hair. She squeezed the muscles of her vagina and was rewarded by a groan as his organ swelled to its final engorgement. The groan turned to a yell as the pumping built to frenzy. Then Andrew collapsed across her chest, the fury spent.

Aggie continued to stroke his hair as his breathing calmed. When he lifted his head, she was surprised and touched to see tears leaking from pale unfocused eyes.

“Did you have an orgasm?” he gasped.

Aggie smiled and nodded. “The mother of all orgasms.”

“Good,” Andrew sighed and dropped his head back onto Aggie’s chest.

Chapter 4

“Hi, Boo.” Angel felt the reservation in her voice and smiled to brighten the tone.

“Boo!” her sister Aggie screamed. “I can’t believe you phoned. Wow!”

“Maybe I shouldn’t…”

“No! No, no,” Aggie interrupted. “Don’t you dare hang up. I’m so glad you called. How are you? Where are you?”

“You know me, been better, been worse.” Though not much. “I’m still living in New York.”

“I tried to find you. Is your number unlisted? Why didn’t you call me?”

Angel winced at the accusation in her sister’s words. She lowered the phone.

“Wait!” Aggie’s voice screamed from the earpiece. “Don’t hang up!”

Angel pulled the phone back to her ear. “I’m here.”

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” her sister asked. “My wrist hurt when I got up this morning. What did you do to your wrist?”

“It’s okay,” Angel lied. “I slammed it in a door by accident.”

“What’s your phone number?”

“I’m about to move,” Angel lied again. She rushed on. “I thought I might fly home for Thanksgiving. Do you want to come?”

“I thought you hated Mary.”

“She’s okay. I just hated that Dad took up with her so soon after Mom died. His secretary — what a cliché. She’s not even pretty.”

“Still as shallow as ever?” Aggie needled. “No, I don’t mean that. And yes, I’ll go home for the weekend with you. God, Boo. You haven’t called me since last Christmas.”

“Let’s not fight, okay?”

“Okay. I won’t ask.”

“Still dating the boy wonder?”

“I thought we weren’t going to fight.”

“Sorry,” Angel apologized.

“Andrew and I are still together.”

“How old is he? Twenty-one?”

“Andrew is twenty-five and he’s brilliant.”

“But can he fuck? No, forget I said that.”

Silence on the line.

“Boo, I’m sorry,” Angel tried. “I bet he’s a great fuck.”

Aggie laughed. “No, he isn’t, but he’s sweet. I won’t ask you about your love life.”

Angel had told her sister that she had gotten a job as a secretary in a big Manhattan firm. She hadn’t added that the firm was a call girl operation and that she had rapidly moved from the phone to the bedroom. Aggie thought her sister was too busy, and too cold, for a boyfriend. In a way, she was right.

“Nil,” Angel answered. For love life, it was true. Fucking was an entirely different matter.

“When are you flying into Atlanta? Can we meet at the airport and drive to Auburn?”

“It’s all set,” Angel admitted. “I already bought the tickets and rented the car.”

“What if I’d said no?”

“I would have been out a few dollars. No biggie.”

“It’s a biggie to me,” Aggie bristled. “Just because you’re ten minutes older…”

“Don’t start,” Angel laughed. “Mea culpa. The big sister sins again. So I bought you a plane ticket. Are you going to divorce me?”

“I love you, Angela.” Aggie’s voice broke on the last word. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“We’ll catch up on the weekend, Boo,” Angel promised, her voice steady. She couldn’t afford to get sentimental. Not now. “I’ll Fed Ex the tickets to you.”

“Use my work address at the library.”

“Will do.”

“Don’t hang up yet, Boo,” Aggie pleaded. “I’m scared I’m imagining this.”

“You’ll get the ticket tomorrow, Aggie. This is getting to me, Boo. I gotta go.”

Angel heard her sister’s sob as she hung up the phone. She wondered whether she would be able to carry out her plan, but what was the alternative? On October twenty-eighth, Angel had written a letter to the box number on the classified ad. The odds were one in a lot, but still better than a lottery, she hoped. The ad said over thirty; she was twenty-eight. The ad said normal. Hah. Who was normal, anyway? The ad said no prostitutes, so Angel borrowed her twin’s persona, right down to name, occupation and social security number. And photograph.

Angel hadn’t gone back to work. She had enough money to last a few weeks and she needed time to think, time for the bruises and the memories to fade. But by February she’d be out on the street with no rent money. Either this guy came through or she’d be back to work on her back.

A week later Angel had gotten an express delivery to the post office box she rented. The form letter requested further information regarding her application. Annoyed and sure now that the ad was a scam, Angel had scrawled ‘Thanks anyway’ across the questions, and sent the pages by return mail to the box number of the ad.

Two days later a dozen red roses had arrived at her doorstep. The card said only, ‘Sorry for the inquisition.’ Angel’s address was private; her phone unlisted. The arrival of the roses made her think that maybe some guy did have a hundred twenty thousand dollars to throw around. And that maybe he was a little scary. The next day when the phone rang, Angel hesitated before picking up the handset.

“Hello.” She used her Aggie-voice just in case.

“Is this Agnes Trout?” The voice was a young man’s.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“You remember the personal ad?”

“You placed the ad?” Angel asked. The voice was too young and innocent.

“No,” he responded. “My brother did.”

“Is this on the level?” Angel asked. “How did you get my phone number? It’s unlisted.”

“I liked your letter, Agnes.” The man ignored Angel’s question.

“Call me Aggie,” Angel answered automatically. “Did you send the flowers?”

“Did you like them?”

“They’re beautiful. Why did you send them?”

“He shouldn’t have sent the letter.”

“Who?”

The young man again ignored her question. “He was suspicious. You gave a New York box number but you work in Cincinnati.”

“I explained that. I’m visiting my cousin.”

“Not your sister?”

“I don’t have a sister,” Angel lied. “Why are you calling me?”

“I can’t talk him into interviewing you.”

“Your brother?”

“My brother’s lawyer.”

“Lawyer?”

“There’s a contract. So you can’t sue.”

“Look,” Angel searched for words. “What’s your name?”

“Danny.”

“Look, Danny. This is too complicated for me. Lawyers and contracts.”

“A hundred twenty thousand dollars, Aggie.”

It was a lot of money. Enough to move her out of New York. Enough to buy her out of prostitution. Angel swallowed her protest.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “Look, who is your brother?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Would I recognize his name?”

“Probably not.”

“Is he in the mob or something? I don’t want anything…”

“No,” the young man interrupted. “He’s smart-rich, not crooked-rich. Anyway, we’re Canadian.”

Maybe Canada wasn’t as mob-infested as the United States. Still Angel couldn’t picture a rich legit guy putting an ad like that in the paper. But then, would a legit woman answer it?

“Okay, Danny. I’ll answer the questionnaire.”

“It’s too late. The lawyer got angry and threw away your letter.”

“Then how did you find me?”

“I remember things. Be in Vancouver on December 15th. That’s a Monday.”

“A Monday,” Angel repeated.

“I’ll send you a ticket. Take a cab from the airport to the Vancouver Hotel. Check into the Queen Anne suite. I’ll leave a message at the desk for you.”

“What are you going to do? Smuggle me in for an interview?”

“Probably,” the young man answered seriously. “I haven’t worked it out yet.”

“What if you can’t get me in?”

“You’re still in Vancouver,” he offered. “It’s a pretty city.”

“Send me the ticket for Saturday the thirteenth, then,” Angel said, playing along. Nothing would come of it anyway. She doubted a ticket would arrive. “May as well make a holiday of it.”

“Sure,” the young man agreed. “Bring the other one too.”

“What?” Angel asked as the phone clicked. She was only too aware who the other one had to be, but how could Danny know?

And now all she had to do was go to Auburn for Thanksgiving, make peace with her twin and persuade her to go to Vancouver for an impromptu December vacation. Angel knew she could fool the john once she got into bed with him. Sweet and innocent was one of her better gigs. But the lawyer? She might need her sister for the interview.

Sure.

There weren’t two hopes in hell that the ticket would arrive, that the interview was real, that some rich loony would give her the money to quit turning tricks. But what the heck. She wasn’t working anyway and like the man said, Vancouver was a pretty city.

Chapter 5

Aggie arrived in Atlanta two hours ahead of her sister. She went through the paperwork to pick up the rental car Angela had reserved. Then she went to Waterston’s, her favorite airport bookstore, and bought a recent paperback bestseller. She found an empty row near her sister’s arrival gate and settled in to wait. Aggie hadn’t seen or heard from Angela in almost a year. Anticipation and the CNN broadcast made it hard to concentrate on her book and soon she tossed the machinations of the San Diego district attorney into her bag.

Pacing the hallway beside the gate, Aggie chewed one fingernail absently. She checked her watch and the arrivals board every few minutes, certain that something would go wrong. Eventually the first passengers began to trickle out the corridor from the plane. Aggie had a clear view over the heads of most of the waiting greeters and she saw Angela as soon as she came through the door. Every hair in place. Impeccably tailored suit. Aggie’s shoulders sagged as she looked at her still perfect twin. Her sister’s head was turned back in conversation with the proverbial tall, dark, handsome man. Trust Angela to pick up the one good prospect on the plane.

“Bye, Angel.” The man handed her sister a carry-on bag. His voice oozed seduction. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, then watched longingly as she walked away.

“Angel?” Aggie asked as her sister approached.

“I go by that in New York,” Angel explained.

“Do you want me to call you Angel now?”

“No. Angela’s fine.” She opened her arms. “Inside I’m still Boo.”

Aggie burst into tears and pulled her twin into a fierce hug. Her first emotion spent, she raised her fist and pounded Angela’s shoulder.

“You!” Aggie gulped. “Boo, you’re awful. You don’t call for a year and then you walk off the plane with the most handsome man I’ve seen since you left. Where do you find them?”

Angela laughed and Aggie tightened her grip. Her sister squeezed back then put her hands on Aggie’s shoulders and held her away.

“Look at you, Boo,” she whispered. “Still the same Aggie.”

“We’re the Boo-Boo twins,” Aggie said, wiping her eyes. “Let’s go. I filled out the papers for the car. We just need to give them your driver’s license number and we can go. Do you have any more luggage?”

Angela shook her head and the two women started down the long corridor toward the car rental booth. Angela linked her arm in Aggie’s and seemed oblivious to the glances that Aggie felt boring into her skin.

“You need a haircut, Boo!”

Aggie reach up a hand and tousled her shag. “Do I?”

“Yes,” Angela insisted. “We’ll stop and get you done on the way home to Dad’s.”

“Time to make over the ugly twin, Angela?” Aggie asked.

“No, silly. You’re gorgeous, of course. ’Cause if you weren’t, how could I be?”

“I might have known.”

“Aggie, do you remember what we used to do, when we fooled people about who was who?”

“Sure, back when we were ten or so.”

“Let’s do it again.” Angela’s voice sounded suspiciously eager.

“Why?” Aggie asked bluntly.

Her sister shrugged. “Just for fun. My treat.”

“Boo,” Aggie blurted, “I don’t really want to look like you.”

Angela stopped in the middle of the corridor and hurrying passengers split around them like a wave. She dropped her bag and grabbed Aggie’s shoulders with both hands.

“Aggie,” Angela shook her sister gently. “Maybe I want to look like you this time.”

Aggie’s eyes teared. “Don’t, Angela. Don’t mess with my head.”

Angela released Aggie and picked up her bag.

“I’m not messing with you,” she protested, her voice gruff. “I want a new look, okay?”

When they got to the car, Angela insisted that Aggie drive. She explained that she hadn’t been behind the wheel since she moved to New York. Even the straight highway to Auburn made her nervous. As they headed out of Atlanta, Angela made her sister stop at Old National Square Shopping Center.

“One hour,” she commanded. “Indulge me for one hour.”

“Okay,” Aggie agreed as she pulled into the parking lot maze.

“Gayfer’s,” Angela directed, and Aggie pulled into a spot near the upscale store. First stop was a hair salon next to the mall entrance to the store.

“Get your hair however you like,” Angela offered.

“I intend to.” Aggie lifted an eyebrow and frowned. What was wrong with her sister?

“I’m paying.” Angela added.

“Go right ahead.”

Once Aggie was seated in a salon chair and halfway to a fresh cut, Angela dropped into the seat next to hers.

“Do my hair exactly the same,” she told her stylist. “Exactly.”

The two stylists looked at each other and at the twins.

“You’re models, right?” the woman behind asked. “You’re in Atlanta for a photo shoot or something.”

“No,” Aggie began.

“Yes,” Angela interrupted. “Watch for the ads in Vogue in about five months.”

Aggie looked at her sister’s hand and sure enough her baby finger was crooked up in a C, their childhood symbol of complicity. A sense memory of Angela’s fun stole over her and she relaxed back into the seat with a smile. Aggie watched as the stylist lopped off Angela’s careful curls. Her own shag shortened to a pixie cut of chin length. She liked it better on Angela than she did on herself, but looking at them both in the mirror she had to admit that in reality they were identical.

If the young women had been glanced at before in the airport, now the looks became stares. A little girl stopped in front of them and cried, “Look, Mommy! Big twins!” Angela laughed and patted the child on the head. Aggie turned her head and hurried past.

“I don’t like this attention,” she whispered fiercely to her sister.

“We deserve it, Boo,” Angela lifted her chin. “Stand up straight and smile.”

In the department store, two clerks rushed to help them when they entered women’s clothing.

“Are you going to tell me to pick whatever I like?” Aggie taunted.

“Maybe,” Angela laughed, seemingly immune to sarcasm. “Show me what you would choose.”

“I don’t see why we need identical outfits.”

“For fun!” Angela explained. “I want to see if we can still fool Dad.”

“You’re not planning to do something mean to Mary, are you?”

“No,” Angela insisted. “Just pick.”

They walked out of the store thirty minutes later with armloads of bags. Two pairs of size eight dark gray wool pants, two long light gray sweaters with knitted flowers across the shoulders and black pumps with a compromise one and a half inch heel. Angela insisted on buying everything the same, right down to the underwear, again a compromise, blacker and lacier than Aggie’s initial choice.

As she drove out of the remnants of Atlanta traffic and headed west on I-85, Aggie wondered again what her sister was up to. She knew Angela must have a plan, but she couldn’t imagine what it would be. Still the outfit was nice. She’d take Andrew to a movie and dazzle him when she got home.

“Dad!” Angela screamed out the window as the car pulled into the driveway.

Their father was picking up magnolia buds from the front lawn. He stood up and dropped the kitchen tongs that protected his fingers from the sticky cones.

“Blossom!” he called out his old nickname for the slightly older twin. He hurried to the passenger side of the car and pulled open the door. Angela jumped into his arms and they danced around the front yard in an ecstatic hug.

“I’m here too, Dad,” Aggie reminded them.

Still holding Angela’s hand, Gordon Trout turned to his other daughter.

“Peach Fuzz!” He opened his arms. Aggie stepped stiffly into the embrace, then melted as her father’s free hand rubbed up and down her back.

“I can’t believe you’re both here,” he crowed. “Let’s go inside. I’ll get you a drink.”

At sixty-three, their father was still in excellent physical condition, his back straight and his hair a thick silver thatch. Aggie looked at him proudly as he turned to lead them up the stairs to the front porch. Then he stumbled and she glanced at her sister, who shook her head. He righted himself and held onto the railing as he climbed the rest of the stairs.

“Damn things,” he muttered, glaring at the stairs and smiling at his daughters at the same time. “Always trip me up.”

Inside, the house was immaculate and untidy at the same time, spotless wherever their father hadn’t managed to drop something since Mary had cleaned.

“What can I get you girls?”

“I’ll make a pot of coffee, Dad,” Aggie offered.

Angela nodded. “I just want coffee.”

“I’ll call Mary, then. I know she’ll want to come right over and see you. She’s cooking a turkey.”

“Thanksgiving at home,” Angela smiled. “What a treat.”

Aggie glared at her sister behind her father’s back. This sweetness and light bit was not Angela. The older twin smiled back as their father left the room. Even her eyes were laughing, Aggie noted suspiciously. Angela took a sip of coffee, her finger crooked in the air in a C.

“I’m going to run over and pick Mary up,” their father announced as he walked back into the room. “You girls make yourselves at home.”

“We will,” Angela smiled. “Take your time.”

After the door closed behind their father, Angela put down her coffee mug and stood up from the sofa.

“Time to get to work,” she announced as she dragged her sister up by the elbow.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s change while he’s out and we’ll try the twin thing when they get back.”

“I won’t let you be nasty to Mary.”

“I like Mary,” Angela insisted. “I just want to see if we still have the old touch.”

Angela hugged her sister.

“Please,” she begged.

Aggie shrugged her shoulders and dislodged her arms.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I just wish I knew what you were really up to.”

The two sisters walked arm in arm down the hall toward their old bedroom, bags in hand. Angela went straight to the ensuite bathroom and scrubbed the makeup off her face. Aggie opened the bags and pulled out the new clothes. Within a minute, she was changed.

“This is a nice outfit,” she commented as she turned in front of the mirror. The gray pants hugged her hips then fell in a straight line to the floor. The sweater clung to her breasts then draped softly. The crochet flowers on the shoulders emphasized her straight posture, the reward of twelve years of ballet.

“You look good,” Angela commented as she emerged from the bathroom. She quickly stripped and put on her matching clothing. Then she walked over to the mirror and stood beside Aggie.

“Who are you?” she teased her younger twin. It was an old joke.

“I don’t know,” Aggie responded as per formula. “Who are you?”

The young women turned and surveyed their bodies. Aggie reached up her arm and Angela mimicked her movement. Aggie smiled and reached down to put her right hand on her left knee. Her sister followed. Smiling, Aggie contorted herself every which way and giggled as her sister struggled to follow.

“Enough!” Angela finally cried.

“Don’t you think we need a little makeup?” Aggie asked.

Her sister stared dumbfounded.

“I’m doing you,” Aggie explained, still giggling.

“Maybe just a little,” Angela sounded reluctantly Aggie-ish. She pulled a lipstick out of her purse and made up first her own and then her sister’s lips.

“Mascara?” Angela asked.

Aggie nodded and Angela retrieved a wand from her overnight bag. She swept the dark brown fluid expertly over her own eyelashes, then handed the applicator to her sister. Aggie held the wand awkwardly but left only one smudge under her left eye. Angela wiped the spot then took her sister’s chin in her hand.

“This is weird,” she commented.

“I know,” Aggie agreed. The doppelganger effect unnerved her. Angela had even altered her voice, losing a slight New York twang. They sounded as identical as they looked. “I don’t think anybody will be able to tell us apart.”

“Good,” Angela grinned. Both twins heard a car pull into the driveway. “You go out first and be yourself for a few minutes. Say I’m busy. Then come back here and I’ll go out as you.”

“Tell me again why we’re doing this,” Aggie asked.

“Just go.” Angela pushed her twin out the bedroom door.

Aggie greeted her father at the front door.

“Blossom?” he asked.

“No, it’s Aggie. I changed.” A butterfly woke up in her stomach.

“Here’s Mary,” her father gestured.

“Hi, Aggie. You look great.”

The butterfly stretched its wings.

“Thanks, Mary.” Aggie reached out and drew her father’s girlfriend into a hug. “You do too.”

“What can I get you to drink?” her father asked them both.

“I still have some coffee,” Aggie jumped in ahead of Mary, who caught her eye and nodded.

“Let’s all have coffee,” Mary agreed.

Aggie’s father shrugged and walked into the kitchen.

“Is he drinking a lot?” Aggie asked Mary.

“Not too much.” Mary was covering and they both knew it.

Suddenly the homecoming and the charade and drinking were too much for Aggie. The butterfly was frantically searching for a way to escape. Its wings battered Aggie’s stomach and she thought she might retch.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she told Mary over her shoulder as she walked out of the room.

“I don’t like any of this,” Aggie stated as she closed the bedroom door. “I feel weird. Dad’s drinking again.”

“I’ll go back,” Angela offered. “You come out in five minutes or so.”

Aggie heard muffled voices from the living room as she sat huddled on the edge of her childhood bed. A hidden memory surfaced; she used to listen here as her parents fought. Drunken arguments had been the background music of her childhood. But now the voices weren’t raised. Aggie straightened her shoulders and stood. Time to rejoin the family and end the charade.

“Blossom,” her father greeted her. “Come sit.”

The warmth of his tone brought a sheen of moisture to Aggie’s eyes. Was his voice that affectionate when he knew he spoke to her?

“No,” she began, unable to continue the imposture. Angela’s voice interrupted her.

“Angela has a headache, Dad,” she explained.

Aggie walked to sit next to her father. She smelled brandy in his coffee. She closed her eyes and leaned back into the sofa.

“I’m Aggie, Dad,” she blurted before Angela could interrupt.

“Dad,” her sister complained. “I don’t know what Angela’s trying to pull, but I’m Aggie.”

“Girls,” Mary admonished. “This isn’t very funny.”

“I agree,” Aggie stated. “I’m Aggie and I’m going to go change clothes.”

“I’m Aggie,” her twin insisted. “Dad, Mary, can’t you tell?”

“All right. That’s enough.” Their father’s voice had the rough boozy edge he usually hid carefully. “Let me look behind your ear.”

“What?” Mary asked and their father explained.

“Angela fell off the top of the swing set when she was three. She has a scar from the stitches behind her right ear.”

Aggie swept back her hair and showed her unblemished skin to her father. “See, I’m Aggie. Angela, the charade’s over. Give it up.”

Her sister swept back her hair and showed her equally unmarked skin.

“No scar,” she whispered.

Aggie burst into tears and ran from the room.

A few minutes later, her sister walked into the bedroom and took the still sobbing Aggie in her arms.

“It’s okay, Aggie,” she crooned. “I told them. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you doing this?” Aggie asked.

“Just for fun,” Angela answered. “Stop crying, Boo. You’re making me feel bad.”

“This isn’t fun,” Aggie insisted. “I want my own identity.”

“Look,” Angela held out her hand. “I made us nametags.”

Aggie took the cards. The names read ‘Boo’ and ‘Boo’.

“Not funny.” She handed the cards back to her sister, who turned them over. The flip sides read ‘Aggie’ and ‘the idiot’. Aggie flopped back onto the bed.

“I have an idea,” Angela offered. “My apology, sort of.”

Aggie turned her head and looked at her twin.

“I won two free tickets to Vancouver,” Angela explained. “Why don’t we go for a little holiday together?”

“How did you get the tickets?”

“A radio contest. They’re for December 13. That’s a Saturday. Do you think you can come?”

Aggie thought about the deception Angela had pretty much forced upon her. She thought about the library, and Andrew. Then she thought of her father and the brandy in his coffee. Angela was family. More, she was her twin. It was time to get reacquainted. She sat up and hugged Angela.

“Sure,” she agreed. “Let’s go to Vancouver. How long can we stay?”

“The ticket is open ended,” Angela explained. “We can stay as long as we like.”

“What about your job?”

“I’m taking some holidays. Can you get some time too?”

“Andrew and I are planning to go to England next summer.” Aggie looked at her twin. Her sister’s eyes had a desperate longing in them that she couldn’t resist. “I’ll take a few days.”

Chapter 6

Jimmy Buko was a man of high emotion. He liked to say that he lived life at two speeds: flat out and faster. He made money with passionate intensity. He spent generously but without undue self-indulgence. Since he was fourteen, his need for sex had outstripped all available supply. With rigid self-control, he avoided inflicting himself and his insatiable needs on ‘good’ women and limited himself to one high class call girl a week. Tonight was the night.

“I want a new girl,” he growled into the phone.

“Bambi was looking forward to tonight.”

“No. Send somebody new. Tall with red hair.”

“I do have a new girl, Amber.”

“Does anybody have a real name?”

“You can call your girl any name you choose, Mr. Buko.”

“Send Amber, but tell her that I want her to introduce herself by her real name. Otherwise she’s out the door.”

“Of course, Mr. Buko. She’ll come to room 1036 of the Hyatt at ten pm.”

Jimmy hung up without saying goodbye. The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and signatures. At the end of the day, his secretary reported that the companies’ holdings were now worth $527,468,124 and change, up $1,417,892 from the previous close. A good day.

Jimmy went upstairs to his personal suite and changed into a jogging suit. He decided to walk along the seawall and up Burrard to the hotel. He’d stop in a small Hungarian restaurant along the way for goulash. Jimmy cherished his anonymity. The day he couldn’t walk into a restaurant without fuss was the day he’d move from Vancouver.

A private elevator delivered Jimmy to the apartment lobby. Twenty feet high, the expanse was lit by a massive crystal chandelier. The lobby sat several feet above the street that separated it from the ocean and offered a sweeping view of English Bay. Jimmy stepped out the door and inhaled the crisp fall air. For once, it wasn’t raining. To the right a massive rock fountain gurgled in a raked sand garden. Jimmy reached into his pocket and dropped a handful of change into the pool at the bottom of the rock. At night, street people came and gathered the change, for some their only source of income.

Jimmy strode across the narrow street as cars halted to give him passage. Good for Vancouver. Though it was the Canadian way, nobody stopped like that in Toronto anymore. The seawall encircled Stanley Park, a large endowment of heavily treed land on a peninsula in the center of the city. Jimmy had chosen for his apartment and office the two top floors of the waterfront building closest to the park. To the tall white angular building Jimmy had added five huge rounded bays on his personal top floor. They housed living, dining bed and bath rooms and a circular pool with surrounding track. Jimmy enjoyed the phallic symbolism of his bulbous topped building.

The water of English Bay was calm and gray, almost sullen. The sky was cloudy and the brown leaves sodden underfoot. Jimmy inhaled the salt aroma of decaying plant and fish life as nature shut down the bay for the winter. Barnacle encrusted rocks crowded the beach in front of the apartment, though a few hundred yards away the expanse became a sandy public playpen each summer. Jimmy preferred his rocks.

By the time he arrived at the Hyatt it was 9:30. Jimmy felt invigorated by his walk and pleasantly full of goulash. An effort of will kept his cock at half-mast, though he needed the sex tonight even more than usual. He supposed it was the newspaper ad. Richard and Danny had narrowed the list to twenty and the interviews would start in eight days. Twelve straight days of sex. He would choose a strong woman.

Promptly at ten o’clock he heard a knock on the door of the suite.

“Hello,” the young woman smiled as he opened the door. She looked to Jimmy like she was about twenty-five years old. She extended her hand. “My name is Monica Standish.”

Her handshake was as firm as her high breasts.

“Come in, Monica,” Jimmy held onto her hand as she stepped through the door. His eyes liked the inventory. Red hair that smelled faintly of flowers. A simple black dress, only sexy because of the body underneath. And the body — long slim legs, no waist to speak of, those high breasts, squarely erect shoulders. Her face was pretty but not striking, rounded chin, soft lips in a small mouth, bright green eyes — probably contacts, a simple nose. Jimmy liked her.

“So are you Amber?” he asked.

She shrugged. “That’s the name I usually use. You said you wanted my real name.”

“I’m Jimmy Buko.”

“I know,” she smiled. “What would you like to do tonight, Jimmy?”

Monica turned into Jimmy’s arms and draped one hand on his shoulder. The other found the growing protuberance in his crotch. Jimmy sniffed.

“I like the smell of your hair.”

“It’s the dye.”

“The dye?”

“You said you wanted a redhead.”

“What color is your hair normally?”

“Light brown.”

“You don’t have to dye it next time.”

“Thanks. Actually, I kind of like the red.”

“So do I.”

Jimmy buried his fingers in the shoulder length softness. When he lifted his hands, curls fell like silk off his fingers. Meanwhile her hand was working wonders with his cock.

“Unzip me,” he ordered.

Monica reached both hands down. Somehow she managed to continue fondling even as she worked the zipper down and separated the folds of the jockey shorts. Jimmy sighed as his cock sprang free of the restraints.

“Do you want a quickie for an appetizer?” Monica asked. The girl had done her homework.

Jimmy led her to the bed. She pulled a strip of condoms from her bra and dangled them seductively. Jimmy motioned for her to continue and she unwrapped one rubber and rolled it slowly down his upright organ. Then she stripped off her underpants but left on garter belt and stockings. She hiked her dress up above her waist and lay back spreadeagled. Her high heels made small round dents in the coverlet. Jimmy leaned above her and inserted himself with one hand. She was dripping ready. Her muscles tightened around him and he groaned and began to pump.

“Come quick, lover,” she offered. “We’ll do it slow later.”

Jimmy held himself above her, so that only their genitals touched. He pumped in and out, quickly setting a furious rhythm. Her vagina squeezed and her hips moved up and down in perfect synchrony with him. Almost before it began it was over. Jimmy’s back arched and his eyes squeezed shut as life fluid pumped from his fire hose. He leaned down and kissed the girl on the cheek.

“That was good, Monica,” he complimented her.

“We aim to please, Jimmy,” she teased. He liked her sense of humor.

Jimmy stood up and stripped off his clothes.

“I’m going to take a shower. Do you want to join me?”

“The red will wash out of my hair,” Monica explained. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“Fair enough,” Jimmy agreed.

Five minutes later they stood under the hot spray. The premium suite had shower heads at both ends of the tub, so both bodies stayed hot and wet. Jimmy handed Monica a bar of soap. She lathered his chest and then dragged the soap down each arm. He lifted one elbow and she gently pulled his armpit hair and then squeezed the suds into his skin.

“Does that feel good?” she asked.

Jimmy nodded. Monica took the tube of toothpaste she had brought into the shower and squeezed a portion onto her tongue. She licked the toothpaste onto Jimmy’s nipples and sucked and nipped and tongued the hard little buds to a goose-pimpled ache.

“I want you right now,” Jimmy groaned. “Right here.”

“Be patient, sweetheart,” Monica crooned. “Good things are worth waiting for.”

Her hands were soapy again and lathering his abdomen. He waited impatiently for the agile fingers to move lower. They didn’t. Instead Monica leaned into him and massaged his chest with hers. The soapy slickness slid between their bodies and Jimmy grabbed her head and pulled her roughly into a deep kiss.

“Now,” he growled.

“I’ll do you with my mouth,” she offered.

Jimmy nodded and watched as Monica squeezed more toothpaste onto her tongue. She knelt in front of him, placed his hands on her shoulders and grasped his organ. She carefully licked the toothpaste all over his erect cock and Jimmy was glad of his grip on her shoulders. When his cock was a foamy slick white shaft and his groans louder than the shower spray, she finally guided him into her dark moist cavity.

Jimmy lost awareness of her exact movements as her tongue and teeth suddenly were everywhere goading him toward another rapid orgasm. Fingers gripped his buttocks and nails dug painfully, erotically into his taut flesh. The suction of her mouth pulled him faster than his wont and he struggled to maintain a semblance of control over breathing and heartbeat. Unsuccessfully. She was in control and he knew it and his cock knew it and exploded at her insistent and repeated and irresistible demand. She choked only once as he emptied into her, his pump organ rocking her head back and forth. He steadied her head with his hands and continued pumping until the final vibrations stilled. His cock was still rock hard.

“That was good,” he gasped inadequately.

“You’re still hard,” Monica commented. She sounded distressed.

“It’s okay. I came.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

Jimmy leaned down and kissed the top of her head. She was right. The red was leaking out of her hair and staining her shoulders orange.

“You were perfect,” he reassured her. “I’m a hard case.”

Jimmy batted his still erect cock.

“Can I have a minute before we go again?” She still sounded worried.

“Everything’s fine, Monica.” Her anxiety was not unique and Jimmy sighed. He doubted he would ever find a woman who actually wanted to have sex as much and as often as he did. He sighed again. “Let’s wash that red out of your hair.”

Jimmy lifted Monica by the elbow and stood her in front of him. He gently bent her head toward him and poured on a generous dollop of shampoo. His strong fingers massaged as he worked the shampoo into her scalp.

“You’re hired,” Monica called out from under his hands. “That feels heavenly.”

Jimmy redoubled his efforts under her praise. When at last he turned her around and under the spray, the last hint of red washed down the drain at their feet.

“Do you want conditioner?” he asked.

Monica nodded and Jimmy squeezed some into his palm. He again massaged her as he worked the salve into and through her hair, combing with his fingers as he worked. He felt Monica relax under his ministrations. Once they were both well-rinsed, they wrapped themselves in the giant hotel bathrobes and drifted back out to the main room.

“I’m going to order room service,” Jimmy told her. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved,” Monica admitted.

“What would you like?”

“Whatever you get is fine for me.”

“Pretend I’m not paying you, Monica. Tell me what you’d like.”

“A BLT no mayo and a diet coke.”

“That’s it?”

Monica smoothed her hands down the concealing robe. Jimmy laughed and picked up the phone. For the next hour, they sat and watched CNN as they waited and then ate. Jimmy was impressed by Monica’s grasp of economic and political affairs as she added intelligent commentary to the news reports. She eventually admitted that she was working on her master’s degree in sociology and financing her way by selling her body.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to get a college loan?” Jimmy asked.

“Too much to pay back,” Monica said around a bite of sandwich. “Besides, I like sex.”

“You don’t feel used?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “It can get ugly. But I’ve learned how to take care of myself. I’m really careful. I checked you out, you know.”

“How did I rate?”

“First class all the way,” she smiled. “If I were an unscrupulous girl, I’d think you had meal ticket written on your forehead.”

“But you’re not.”

“Nope. I’m the independent type.”

“I like you, Monica. Let’s fuck.”

“Absolutely.” She stood and kissed him on the cheek. “Just let me brush my teeth.”

When she came back into the room, she asked him prosaically, “How many more times do you think you can do it?”

Jimmy shrugged. “I’ve never run out yet.”

“Is that a challenge?” Monica smiled.

“No, sweetheart,” Jimmy stood and pulled her into his arms. “I don’t want to wear you out. You say when we’re done.”

“You’re the sweetheart, Jimmy,” Monica whispered in his ear. “I’ll make sure you get your money’s worth.”

Soon they were naked on the bare bed, covers and pillows pushed to the floor. Jimmy slid his hand down between Monica’s legs and felt hot slick wetness. His finger found her bud of desire and twitched it experimentally. She jerked up into his hand.

“You don’t need to do me,” she whispered. Jimmy ignored her.

“Do you like that?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gasped.

He continued the same motion, gently pushing and stroking the tiny organ. He hoped she was telling the truth and not faking for the money. His cock had finally wilted as they ate and now it lifted its head and looked around like an emerging groundhog.

“Don’t fake anything, Monica,” he warned.

“I’m not,” she gasped.

Jimmy lowered his head and touched her with the tip of his tongue. He slid two fingers inside her cavity and settled his mouth firmly onto her soft folds. His tongue found her bud and flicked it rapidly as her breath accelerated to match. When he nipped her gently with his teeth, he was rewarded with a gush of hotter stickier fluid and he knew she had come.

“God, Jimmy,” she moaned. “Thank you!”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes! Come inside me now. Please,” she gasped. “I want to feel you inside me.”

Jimmy took her at her word and lifted himself above her. Her fingers shaking, she unrolled another condom down his length. Either she wasn’t faking her arousal, or she was the best actress he’d ever seen. She slid him inside her and sighed as his fullness found its home. This time he rested on his elbows and allowed their bodies to meld. He took her head between his hands and massaged her temples with his thumbs. She wrapped her legs around him and twined her fingers in his hair.

“You’re the best, Jimmy,” she breathed and bit his ear.

He began to pump quietly inside her. This time he was determined to go slow, to milk the fuck for every ounce of pleasure for them both. Then Monica sunk her teeth into his upper arm. A hickey. She was giving him a hickey. Thoughts of slow pleasure evaporated into animal lust and the pace of his cock quickened. Jimmy slipped his hands from her head and down to her buttocks. There was something he wanted to know before he got too lost to think.

He slid one fingertip around and around her soft asshole. Monica sighed and arched up into his body. His hand followed her movement and his finger grew bolder. He pressed the tip inside her anus. She didn’t protest. He thrust further and felt the squeeze of her vaginal muscles. Was it protest or… No, it was coming orgasm, he decided as her buttocks clenched around his finger even as her vagina hugged his cock in a pulsing embrace. Jimmy held tight to his control until he felt her ass relax around his finger. She’d been here before. She liked it.

Jimmy left his finger inside her as he pumped harder. Her squeezing augmented every sensation and soon he was lost to blind and primitive rutting. Dimly he heard her encouragement as he pounded inside her harder and harder, closer and closer. The explosion when it came was stronger than the time before. Jimmy collapsed onto her chest, then raised himself and kissed her bruisingly on the lips. His mouth attacked and devoured her as his cock had eaten her softness below. She belonged to him, his primitive brain crowed.

But she didn’t. Sense returned. He paid her and so did a lot of other men. But, God, she was good. He rolled off her and lay on his back, still panting. His cock wilted slowly in the cool air. Monica rolled onto her side and draped herself over his chest.

“You really are the best, Jimmy,” she crooned.

“You’re not bad yourself,” Jimmy chuckled.

“Not bad?” she teased. “I’m the best too. What we have here is the best and the best.”

“Sounds like a new sitcom.”

“More like a porno movie,” Monica laughed.

They lay quietly for several moments. Then Monica’s hand found Jimmy’s cock.

“It’s so cute when it’s limp,” she commented, stretching and twisting it above his belly.

“It won’t stay that way for long if you keep doing what you’re doing,” Jimmy warned.

“Good.”

Monica knelt over Jimmy’s legs and lowered her head to his crotch. She maneuvered the still limp penis into her mouth, where it instantly sprang to attention. She sucked gently then raked the growing shaft with her teeth. Then she raised her head.

“How old are you, Jimmy?” she asked.

“Forty-two.”

“Amazing,” she murmured and lowered her mouth to its task.

As Jimmy felt himself approaching the point of no return, he lifted Monica’s head.

“Will you let me come into your anus?” he asked.

“Yes,” Monica whispered.

“Do you like it?”

“I…” Monica began enthusiastically. Then her expression softened. “I’m okay with it.”

“I won’t try to have an orgasm. It would take too long on the fourth go. I just want to feel myself inside you.”

“Come on in,” Monica offered with a smile. “How do you want me?”

Jimmy positioned her frog-like before him as he stood beside the bed. This time he put two condoms over his organ then slicked her asshole with jelly.

“Here I come,” he warned.

He held her buttocks steady and pressed his penis into the little rear mouth. It tensed and he waited for her to relax. When the opening felt soft, he pushed hard once and heard a gasp as the muscles tightened again. The pressure was almost too much for pleasure, but not quite.

“Try to relax,” he murmured. “I’ll go slow.”

“It’s okay,” Monica gasped. He could hear how hard she worked to steady and slow her breathing. “I’m ready.”

Though the muscles were still tight, Jimmy thrust again hard. Sometimes quickly was the best. Monica trembled and he held her steady in his hands. One more good push. Ah. He could hear her panting now and feel the throbbing of her overstretched muscles. But God, it felt good. He tried a gentle in and out, barely an inch. Monica gasped. She was too tight.

Jimmy leaned over her back and wrapped his left arm around her waist to hold her firm. He knew his penis shifted inside her with the movement and he apologized mentally. Just hold on for one minute, he promised. I’ll make it better. His more agile right hand found her cunt and cupped the softness for a moment. Then he slid a finger into the crease and found her clitoris.

“No,” she protested weakly. “You don’t need to…”

“Hush,” Jimmy whispered. ‘This will feel good.”

He massaged her gently, knowing the ache in her rear made arousal slow. But it would come. Patiently he worked each sensitive spot, touching and teasing and then pressing insistently. All the time his cock throbbed in the snug embrace of her penetrated rear. Eventually her breathing became more regular and then shortened to aroused rather than pain-managing pants. He slipped his finger inside her dripping cavity and knew she was almost there. He twisted his finger inside her and savored the almost-orgasm.

Then his hand went back to work and he stroked and twisted and pulled. Now that he knew she was ready, he pushed her insistently. Stroking and stroking and pinching until… Her vibration spread from womb to anus and then engulfed her whole body. Jimmy braced his legs to hold her safe as he surrendered to the beautiful tremors. Her muscles kneaded him like the most skillful masseuse, the contractions more rapid than could be achieved by volition. Ah, to be in a woman’s ass when she came.

Slowly the tremors subsided. He wanted to feel it again. His cock ached for the massage to continue. His hand adjusted on her crotch and his finger snaked out toward the clitoris, the key to her and his ecstasy. Monica whimpered and Jimmy’s desire began to fade. She was a limp weight in his arms, he realized. He couldn’t do this to her again, not even for what he planned to pay her. He eased himself slowly from her backside and lay her gently on the bed.

“Are you all right?” he asked as his hand smoothed her hair.

His only answer was her trembling. He lay down beside her and cradled her body spoonlike with his. He murmured nonsense to her as his hand rubbed her back. Slowly her trembling ceased.

“Did I hurt you too much?” Jimmy asked. “Did I go too far?”

She turned in his arms and hugged him fiercely.

“I’ve never done that,” she admitted. “It was…”

Jimmy waited.

“Unbelievable.” Monica smiled. “Overwhelming. I’m just now recovering.”

“I’m sorry if…”

Monica put her finger to Jimmy’s lips and hushed him.

“No apologies. It was good. It was so powerful, I fell apart a little.”

“You are quite a woman, Monica.” Jimmy kissed her forehead. “I’m going to leave now. You sleep here till the morning. The room’s paid for. Order up whatever you want for breakfast.”

“Thank you.”

Jimmy took a short hot shower followed by a cold rinse which effectively doused his lingering erection. By the time he dressed and returned to the room, Monica was fast asleep. He kissed her once more on the forehead and tucked a five thousand dollar tip into her fist, then turned and walked out the door.

Chapter 7

Angela and Aggie arrived at Vancouver International Airport at 11:20 am on Saturday, December 13. Aggie must have bought a travel guide; she snapped open a large black umbrella as they stepped out the doors toward the taxis. Rain swept in under the overhang drenching unprepared travelers within seconds. Angela huddled under the umbrella with her twin and stared out into the dark day.

“Brrr,” she commented. “I thought Vancouver weather was mild because of the ocean.”

“It’s the humidity,” Aggie explained. “Damp cold is way colder than dry cold.”

The twins entered the first in the long line of cabs that waited at the curb.

“Where to, ma’am?” The driver’s words were more understandable by their necessary content that by their actual sound. His accent was as obvious as his turban. He smiled and displayed broad, strong teeth. “You go downtown?”

“The Vancouver Hotel,” Angela said.

“I thought we were staying at the…”

Angela poked her sister sharply in the ribs. Aggie looked at her askance but didn’t protest further. The view over the Arthur Laing Bridge and up Granville was blanketed in thick misty rain, but that didn’t stop Aggie from enumerating the sights as they passed: the south arm of the Fraser River, the Marpole district and then Shaugnessy. Angela drank in the British style mansions that lined even the major thoroughfare through the exclusive neighborhood. She could picture herself in one of those, with a giant bedroom and a garden full of roses.

The cab went straight as an arrow, though slowly to Angela’s New York expectations. The cab driver was calm; he didn’t get angry at other motorists, didn’t shoot yellow lights. Angela glanced at the clicking meter. No wonder — the fare was obscene. When they pulled into the downtown area, the traffic slowed almost to a halt. Aggie craned her head looking up at the skyscrapers that made an alley of their street.

“Fodor’s says that Vancouver has one of the most beautiful downtowns in North America,” she commented.

“Hard to tell in the rain.”

“Don’t be a grump. This is a vacation.”

“You’re right.” Angela knew her anxiety had little to do with the weather. She smiled and hugged her sister’s arm. “It’s great to be here with you. Who cares if it’s raining?”

“Not me,” Aggie answered the rhetorical question. “Besides, it’s more British. We’re getting the full experience.”

Angela laughed and then sobered as the cab pulled into the high tunnel at the taxi and limousine entrance to the Vancouver Hotel.

“Wait here,” she told Aggie and the cab driver. “I’ll be right back.”

She ran into the lobby, hardly noticing the British East India rugs and heavy mahogany furniture. She stepped to the imposing front desk.

“May I help you, ma’am?” a stately middle-aged gentleman asked from behind the counter.

“Do you have any messages for Agnes Trout?”

“Let’s see,” the man flipped through a stack of papers. “I have one here for an Aggie Trout.”

“That’s me,” Angela smiled. “Thank you.”

She took the folded paper and turned away from the desk.

“Miss.” The man’s voice halted her. “We have a room reserved in your name, Miss Trout. Would you like to check in now?”

“I’ll be back later,” Angela temporized. She didn’t want to cancel the reservation and alert the man who placed the ad. Besides she needed to be able to pick up messages. But she had no intention of waiting at the arranged hotel like a sitting duck. She debated whether to take a key and risk paying an exorbitant figure for a room she wasn’t going to use. A man who could pay $120,000 for a twelve night stand wouldn’t stiff her for the hotel room, surely. “No. I’ll sign in now.”

“Do you have a vehicle, Miss Trout?” the man asked, undisturbed by her waffling. He lifted his pen over a room slip.

“No.”

“You’re in the Queen Anne suite on the top floor. That’s a non-smoking suite. I hope that is all right.”

“That’s fine.” Angela dug in her wallet for her credit card. Praying the man would stop her before he noticed the wrong name.

“No need, ma’am,” the man lowered his voice discretely. Angela’s face flushed with relief. “The charge is taken care of. We often put customers of TransGlobe in the Queen Anne. If you could just sign here.”

Angela tucked the company name into a corner of her memory. She looked at the slip and wondered why she needed to sign if not to pay for the room. Maybe the rules were different in Canada. She took the offered pen and signed ‘Anges Trout’ without hesitation. She had practiced for such an eventuality. The man handed her an envelope with the words ‘Queen Anne Suite’ engraved on the front. She could feel a flat credit card key inside.

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“If there’s anything I can do to make your stay more pleasant, Miss Trout, please don’t hesitate to ask. My name is Jeremy Smythe.”

Angela was used to friendliness from strange men. Though the Canadian was most discrete, she saw the more than polite interest in his eyes. She knew how to handle the situation.

“Thank you, Mr. Smythe,” she said in a no nonsense business voice. “Your hotel is lovely. I’m sure I’ll enjoy my stay in Vancouver.”

As she walked away from the desk, she rubbed the message slip between her fingers. She could feel Smythe’s eyes on her back and didn’t want to stop and read the note with him watching. The lobby was large and she quickly turned a corner that hid her from view of the front desk. She stopped next to a tall white pillar. Her fingers trembled as she opened the folded paper.

“Hi Aggie,” the note began informally. “Meet me in the lobby near the front desk at 10am on Monday. Danny.”

Angela shook her head at the brevity of the note, then she drew a deep breath. It was really going to happen. She leaned back against the pillar and drew in another deep breath. Keep breathing. She thought of her sister and winced. How would she ever convince Aggie to go for the interview? Maybe she should forget the whole thing. She forced herself to relive the moments as the ‘Captain’ forced the rolled bills up her ass. More than the bruises and cuts, more than the pain of forced sodomy, the memory of the money in her anus turned her bowels to liquid. She firmed her resolve. Aggie would understand when she told her. Her twin wouldn’t let her down.

“What were you doing?” Aggie’s words greeted her as she opened the back door of the cab. Angela slid onto the seat. “Are we staying here?”

“I didn’t like the room,” Angela lied.

“Take us to the Sylvia Hotel,” Aggie told the driver. She explained to the startled Angela, “The guidebook says it’s one of the best buys in downtown Vancouver. And it’s right on English Bay.”

A short drive took them to the entrance to the Sylvia. Angela was entranced by the ivy covered walls of mellow stone. The hotel was indeed on the waterfront. Across a narrow but busy road, a sandy beach fronted by weathered logs stretched out toward choppy white-capped waves. She could see the tops of pedestrians half-hidden by a low stone wall. The location was idyllic even in the persistent rain.

Angela insisted on entering the lobby alone. At the front desk, she pulled out a wad of Canadian cash and paid up front for three nights of a suite facing the water. The receptionist didn’t ask her to sign a room slip, didn’t even ask for a name, and she wondered again about the man at the Vancouver Hotel. Why would he, or Danny, want a sample of her handwriting? It was only too easy to guess. She went back out to the cab.

“Drive us around to the underground parking,” she ordered the driver.

“Why…” Aggie began.

“I don’t want you to get wet,” Angela explained.

Luckily the elevator was empty. Angela knew she had to keep herself and her twin from being seen together, at least in downtown Vancouver. They were too memorable a sight. She hurried Aggie along the hotel passageway and breathed a sigh of relief when she closed and locked the door of the suite behind her.

“This is nice!” Aggie exclaimed.

Angela followed her sister’s voice into the living room. The furniture was shabby genteel. To the right was a small kitchenette with fridge, two-burner stove and teakettle. The British habit of tea must prevail in Vancouver too. The view from the living room windows was spectacular. Though only on the fourth floor, they could see over the traffic and trees, across a large body of water to the land on the other side.

“That’s Kitsilano directly opposite us,” Aggie explained. “Then there’s Jericho Beach and the University Endowment Lands.”

“And the water must be English Bay. Is it another arm of the Fraser River?” Angela asked.

“No. It leads to Burrard Inlet, after you get around Stanley Park. We’ll have to walk around the park along the seawall. It’s one of the sights of Vancouver.”

Angela murmured an assent, though she knew they couldn’t risk exposure that close to downtown, at least not until after Monday. If the man chose someone else for his extended romp in the sack, they could go wherever they wanted.

“Let’s go to Chinatown for lunch,” Aggie’s enthusiastic voice interrupted Angela’s thoughts.

“Sounds good to me,” she agreed. Surely they could lose themselves in Chinatown.

Aggie donned rain boots she had providently packed and Angela pulled on a dark red coat with a hood. With her hair covered, they wouldn’t be so noticeable. She called a cab to meet them in the basement parking lot.

The Chinese district was closer to downtown than Angela had hoped, but even on a rainy Saturday it teemed with a jostling mix of tourists and vociferous Chinese. She and Aggie ducked into the nearest restaurant and were greeted with comforting indifference, even when Angela took off her coat and their identicalness became obvious. The menu was written almost entirely in Chinese characters, with only a few undescriptive English words scattered throughout. Aggie asked the waitress to bring them something hot but not too exotic.

A huge bowl of hot noodles with spicy chicken and thin slices of green vegetables filled Angela and her sister to abundance. The total bill came to an unbelievable $4.25 Canadian. No wonder Chinatown was a tourist mecca. As they left the restaurant, Angela was careful to pull the hood back over her hair even though the rain had dropped to a thin mizzle. No need to take risks.

The young women spent the afternoon browsing the shops of Chinatown. Aggie bought a Buddha figure in the first store they entered, then learned that it was actually a Bodhisattva in the second. She explained to Angela that a Bodhisattva was a Buddhist who decided to forgo entering nirvana, or heaven, until he had helped everyone else on earth to become a Buddha.

They toured the Dr. Sun Yat Sen Classical Chinese Garden and learned that it was built near where Sun Yat Sen had stayed when he visited Vancouver. The garden was a replica of an ancient scholar’s home and had been painstakingly built by Chinese hands of authentic materials. Angela felt a welcome peace steal into her spirit as she listened to the patter of rain on bamboo leaves outside the master’s study. Water dripped off the red tile roofs and formed a lacy curtain hiding and then revealing the pebbled courtyards and glossy green foliage. She wanted to stay in the garden forever, but eventually she and Aggie moved on.

Angela bought a concealing silk scarf with a red dragon motif. Aggie loaded them down with a teapot in the shape of a pig, a pair of large straw fans and books on Buddhism, the garden, the history of the Chinese in Vancouver and Chinese cuisine. By the time they arrived back at the hotel, again entering through the basement, Angela felt closer to her sister than she had since childhood. The emotion was a double edged sword.

Unluckily, the hotel didn’t have room service. The receptionist explained over the phone that there was an excellent restaurant right next door. Angela pleaded a headache to avoid going with her sister to the restaurant for dinner. She asked Aggie to bring her back a doggy bag. They spent the evening watching old movies on television and laughing over childhood memories.

By the end of the weekend, Angela’s headache was real. The constant skulking around the hotel preyed on her nerves. Though they spent the day Sunday on the skytrain and had lunch and dinner far from downtown, the coming explanation was never absent from Angela’s thoughts. She knew Aggie was suspicious. Her sister had grown quieter as Sunday progressed, and when Aggie slammed the hotel door behind them Sunday night, Angela knew the moment of revelation had arrived.

Chapter 8

“All right.” Aggie grabbed Angela’s arm and dragged her toward the living room. She pushed her down into a chair. “Spill.”

“Okay. Promise me one thing. Don’t kill me until you hear the whole thing.”

Aggie didn’t think her sister’s attempt at a joke was funny. She flopped onto the sofa and stared at her twin.

“Is it that bad?”

“I’m a prostitute.”

Angela’s words hit Aggie like a baseball bat between the eyes. She felt the trust of twenty-eight years shatter like fragile crystal. How could Angela not have told her?

“You really were hurt,” she stated. “When my wrist was sore, you were in trouble. You were hurt, weren’t you?”

Angela nodded and slipped to the floor to sit at Aggie’s feet. Aggie watched detached as her hand moved to caress her sister’s hair. Her twin’s head lifted and Aggie hardly recognized the hard eyes that had once been her mirror image.

“I have to get out,” Angela stated calmly.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I went to what I thought would be a normal trick,” Angela began.

“Normal,” Aggie whispered.

“You detach,” Angela explained. “But this john was a real bastard. He wanted to make me feel bad, to humiliate me.”

“What did he do?”

“He handcuffed me.”

Aggie rubbed her wrist.

“He sodomized me. He bit me. I got a tetanus shot in case he had rabies.” Angela’s laugh was bitter. “Then he wrapped the money in a condom and shoved it up my ass. That was it, the last straw.”

Aggie felt the wetness on her cheeks before she realized she was crying.

“You have to help me get out,” Angela pleaded.

“Of course,” Aggie agreed. “You can come live with me in Cincinatti. You have a degree. I’m sure you can get a job.”

“A degree in art history isn’t very practical.”

“Just come live with me.” It was Aggie turn to beg.

“I have a plan.”

Aggie stifled a groan when she heard her sister’s words. She knew the plan would be something weird or her sister would have told her outright. She also had an intuition that it would involve her active participation. She pushed her doubts into a corner. Better to let her sister give an unprejudged explanation.

“What’s the plan?” she asked in as neutral a voice as she could manage.

Her sister must have heard or anticipated her reluctance, for her voice was defensive as she replied.

“I know it’s going to sound crazy, but I want you to listen to the end.”

“Agreed.”

“Okay.” Angela’s chest swelled as she took a deep breath. She stood up and walked into the hallway. When she returned, she held a scrap of paper in her hand. “A few weeks ago a man put this ad in the New York Times.”

Aggie took the ad from her sister’s outstretched hand. She read the simple words and immediately thought of herself. She was exactly what the man was looking for. Angela wanted her to prostitute herself for this man and then share the money.

“I won’t do it.” Aggie thrust the paper back at her sister.

Angela sat in an armchair. “You don’t know what I’m going to ask you. Aggie,…”

“No!” Aggie interrupted.

“No, Aggie!” Angela interrupted back. “I said you had to listen to the whole explanation before you decided. Now you’re jumping to conclusions and I haven’t even started explaining.”

Aggie recognized the justice of her sister’s words, though she couldn’t image another more acceptable explanation. She nodded for Angela to continue.

“I answered the ad. I used your name and circumstances.” Aggie nodded tightlipped and Angela carried on. “About a week later I got a letter asking me a bunch of questions. Everything was getting too complicated already and I sent back the letter with kind of a nasty note.”

Aggie could imagine her sister’s words. Though Aggie had the hotter temper, once Angela was angry, she was deadly. She smiled and her sister continued, her voice more optimistic.

“A few days later a man called me.”

“You have an unlisted phone. I couldn’t even find you.”

“This man must be really wealthy to offer $120,000. I used a box number. I guess he bribed somebody. I don’t know.”

“Keep going,” Aggie prodded.

“Okay.” Angela took a deep breath. “The man on the phone was Danny, the brother of the man who advertised. He said the lawyer was suspicious of me and had rejected my letter when I wouldn’t answer his questions. Do you follow me?”

“So far.”

“Danny said he knew I was the right one for his brother. He didn’t say ‘thought’. He said ‘knew’.”

“And…”

“So here we are in Vancouver. The man lives here.”

“And you want me prostitute myself for twelve nights and then share the money with you so you can get out of prostitution.” Aggie couldn’t suppress her anger. She stood and paced the short length of the room.

“NO!”

The horror in Angela’s voice couldn’t have been faked. Aggie stopped and turned to her sister, her eyebrows raised.

“All I want you to do is go to the initial interview with the lawyer, convince him you’re on the level. Then I’ll do the nights. I can fake innocent in bed. I just don’t think I can fool a lawyer.”

The proposition was so much simpler, so much less painful than Aggie had imagined, she almost laughed in relief. Her sister didn’t want her to sell her body. She just wanted her to pull another twin stunt. No wonder she had cut her hair to match Aggie’s. No wonder she had tried to fool their father and Mary. All the pieces dropped into place and Aggie laughed.

“You’re too much, Boo.” Aggie held out her arms to her sister. Angela rushed into her embrace and knocked them both back onto the sofa. Angela was crying in loud gusts.

“I knew,” she sobbed. “I knew when you understood… that you would understand.”

Aggie squeezed her tight.

“Stop crying, Boo,” she advised her older sibling. “You’re not making any sense.”

Angela sat up.

“You’ll help me, won’t you?”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Angela? This man may be as bad as the last one. He could be worse.”

“I can handle anything for twelve nights. Hell, pregnancy lasts nine months. This has to be easier than throwing up every morning.”

“You don’t throw up for nine months,” Aggie reminded her.

“You know what I mean. I have a goal, Aggie. I really, really need to get out of prostitution. I need the money.”

An awful possibility occurred to Aggie. “You’re not hooked on drugs, are you?”

“No.” Angela stated flatly. “I’ve never touched anything. Not that they aren’t around. That’s not why I want the money. I just want to make a new start.”

“You can do that without $120,000.”

“Can you see me in some poky apartment drudging every day at some stupid job?”

“Is that how you see my life?” Aggie asked, surprised and hurt.

“No, stupid. You have a house and a good job. You were smart and got a degree in library science. I was the stupid creative one. Now I’m not fit to do anything real. I thought maybe I’d go back to school, become a lawyer or something.”

Aggie couldn’t argue. Angela had always been smart in a careless way. Aggie had gotten the better marks, but Angela’s B’s had come easily. If she had the determination to go back to school, Aggie was sure she would be successful. She made one last try to dissuade her from what she saw as unnecessary self-degradation.

“Come to Cincinnati and live with me while you go to school.”

“I can’t be that dependent.”

“Then get a college loan.”

“I can’t be that poor. Starving graduate student doesn’t appeal to me much more than prostitute.”

Aggie knew her sister well enough to agree. She couldn’t think of any more arguments, so she capitulated.

“All right. I’ll do the interview.”

Angela grabbed her sister in a breath-stealing hug.

“I love you!” she screamed. “I’d love you anyway, even if you said no, but…”

“Stop crying,” Aggie admonished her sister for the second time that evening. “You’re not making sense again.”

“I don’t care,” Angela sobbed. “This has to work, Boo. It just has to work.”

“I’ll do my best, Angela,” Aggie cautioned as her sister sat up and dried her eyes. “But he’s probably interviewing lots of people. Wait a minute.”

Aggie stared at her sister.

“You said the lawyer rejected your letter. Why do you need me to go for an interview with him?”

“I never told you the rest of the story. Danny said to come to Vancouver anyway, and he’d figure out a way to get me in to the interview. I picked up a note from him at the Vancouver Hotel…”

“Ah,” Aggie interjected.

“Right,” Angela agreed. “We were supposed to stay there. He rented the Queen Anne suite for us. Sounds posh, doesn’t it?”

“Why aren’t we…” Aggie paused as she figured out her sister’s reasoning. “We can’t be seen together. He can’t know there are two of us. No wonder you’ve been so nervous the last two days.”

Angela nodded. “I have the room key, so he doesn’t know we’re somewhere else. Anyway, the note said to meet him at ten o’clock tomorrow morning in the lobby of the hotel. We don’t have much time.”

Aggie felt her heartbeat quicken. Anticipation of the coming encounter made her feel more alive than she had in years. Since her sister moved away, she realized. Angela could do that, make the colors of life more vibrant, the days more fun. Aggie had almost forgotten the surge of adrenaline that foamed in her sister’s wake. She thought back to the personal ad. The man might have written it directly to her. Mingled with pure adventure was the tingle of sexual anticipation. If her sister hadn’t needed the money so badly… She suppressed the subversive thought. What about Andrew? Screw Andrew, she realized with a guilty shiver. One way or another, she was going to at least see the man who had placed the ad. She turned to her sister with a smile.

“Let’s get started.”

Chapter 9

“What criteria did you use to select these women?” Jimmy’s voice boomed over the speakerphone.

“Exactly what you said in the ad, Jimmy,” Richard replied.

Jimmy heard no apology in his lawyer’s voice, but only a resigned weariness. Jimmy mentally accused and then quickly acquitted him of deliberately choosing unappealing women. Despite his good looks and intelligence, Richard found the female sex even more an enigma than Jimmy did himself.

“So far I’ve met an obvious gold-digger. She was fake everything, boobs, hair, eye color, probably had liposuction too.”

“I’m sorry, Jimmy,” the lawyer did apologize now. “I didn’t think to ask for a medical history. That was an oversight.”

“It’s okay,” Jimmy relented. As his anger dissipated, he began to see the humor of the absurd situation. “Another one wore fake glasses to look intellectual. She had been well coached by someone, except she kept messing up the ten dollar words she had memorized. She said she admonished from drinking and she condoned cruelty to animals. A regular Mrs. Malaprop.”

“Who?”

“A character from a play. Never mind.” He thought of another question. “By the way, where did you put them?”

“In the Vancouver Hotel,” Richard answered. “I had the reservation clerk spread the rooms out. Is there a problem?”

“They found each other. I picture this gaggle of thirty year old spinsters cackling over breakfast and dissecting me like a sausage.”

“Poetic, Jimmy.”

“Poetic justice?”

“I didn’t say it,” Richard laughed. “Look, what do you want me to do?”

Jimmy treated the offer as genuine. “I want you to get in here and interview some of these women. You can at least weed out the worst of them.”

“I’m covering a conference call on the Dallas merger at ten. It should take about an hour. I can be at your office by a little after eleven.”

“Get here as soon as you can. Cut the call short. It’s like a siege.”

“They’re waiting in separate rooms, right?”

“Yes, but they’ve found the bathroom. That’s where they’re stirring the witches’ cauldron.”

“I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

Jimmy hung up the phone and swiveled his chair toward the window. What an idiot he was, brain smart but heart stupid. Thinking he could find a woman to love by offering money in a personal ad. A chuckle rose unbidden from deep in his belly as the absurdity formed a photograph in his head. A naked woman pouring tea in his apartment with a huge red heart painted on her chest and a giant dollar sign on her back. He relaxed into the fantasy. She was tall and thin with long, no make it short, auburn hair, the face of a Botticelli and the body of a Giacometti. And the sexual energy of… he searched for an analogy. Not a Don Juan, not a nymphomaniac. He gave up. The woman couldn’t exist. With a sigh, he turned back to face his desk and pressed his finger on the intercom.

“Send in the next one, Julie.”

“Right away, Mr. Buko.”

The office employees thought Jimmy was interviewing for a newly created position at TransGlobe. They knew Jimmy was a hands-on owner and were only mildly surprised that he was doing the interviewing himself. They counted it up as another Buko eccentricity. As long as he and they kept making bundles of money, he could interview as many women as he wanted.

Jimmy stood as the door opened and moved around the desk to greet the next applicant. His automatic smile became genuine as he recognized his companion of the previous week.

“Monica.” Jimmy held out his hand.

“Jimmy.”

Her grip was firm in his.

“I guess you’re wondering how I got through your lawyer’s screening,” she offered, “being a professional.”

“Sit down, Monica.” Jimmy gestured to the sofa. His eyes walked the length of her from casually stylish light brown hair, past a conservative suit of beige wool, over slim calves wrapped in sheer flesh-toned stockings and ending with red heels just short of fuck-me.

“You’re a sight,” he commented.

“My other persona,” Monica explained. “I used it to get the interview. I really am working on my masters. I also work part-time for the Vancouver Sun.”

“Did you leave out any other details besides the prostitution?”

“A few,” Monica smiled.

Jimmy raised his eyebrows.

“That was all before I met you,” Monica defended herself. “I didn’t know you were the person who placed the ad until I walked in the door just now.”

“It’s okay. Tell me what else you,” Jimmy hesitated over the word. ‘Lied’ would be too harsh. “You fabricated.”

“I have a three year old daughter.”

“Do you have a picture?” Jimmy smiled.

Monica pulled her wallet out of her purse.

“A few,” she admitted. She extracted three photos.

“She’s a beauty.” Jimmy didn’t need to fabricate the compliment. The little girl was a miniature of her mother. “What’s her name?”

“Jennifer Michelle. I call her Jen.”

“She’s a lucky girl to have you for her mom.”

“Not according to her father. He found out about my sideline and he’s threatening to go to court to get custody.”

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy commented. Though his sympathies were aroused, he cringed mentally from the messiness of Monica’s entanglements.

“I also lied about my age,” Monica admitted.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“And you have a three year old and a university degree? That’s an accomplishment.”

“I’m pretty determined,” Monica understated.

Both smiled as silence fell into the room.

“I answered the ad because I need the money for a lawyer.”

“I understand.”

“Since you gave me the five thousand dollars,” Monica began then interrupted herself. “Thank you, by the way. Anyway, now I don’t need the money as badly.”

“I’m glad.” Maybe despite all the obvious difficulties, Monica could be the one he was looking for. Jimmy weighed the factors in his mind and came to a swift decision. Only one crucial question remained. “Are you seriously involved with anyone, Monica?”

The glow on her face answered Jimmy’s question before the words reached his ears.

“Yes,” she nodded and ducked her head.

“Is he good to you?” Jimmy asked. Now that any possibility of relationship had vanished, his protective instincts resurfaced.

“He’s wonderful,” Monica gushed. “He’s a jazz musician and he loves Jen to pieces.”

“He doesn’t mind about the prostitution?”

“I explained how cold it is, how clinical.” Monica colored as Jimmy smiled and shook his head. “Not with you, of course.”

“With me too.” The truth was plain to Jimmy, however Monica might wish to color it. She was a prostitute and he was a john. Jimmy stood and reached for Monica’s hand. He bowed over it like a courtier, then raised her to her feet. He pulled a business card from his pocket and scratched a name on the back.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he challenged. “Call this man. He’ll get you the best lawyer for your child custody case. At my expense. The deal is that you quit prostitution. Use the five thousand dollars to finish your degree and marry your musician.”

Monica’s eyes widened and then narrowed.

“I have debts,” she admitted.

Jimmy shrugged. “It’s a good offer. I’ll pay for the lawyer on your handshake. You decide for yourself about the rest. If you want to make yourself into a serious liar, so be it.”

For the first time, the businessman who had amassed half a billion dollars emerged from Jimmy’s homespun exterior. Monica hesitated for only a moment before she shook his hand solemnly.

“I’m not a liar,” she asserted.

“I didn’t think so,” Jimmy smiled, the homespun back in place. “Send me a photo of Jen once in a while.”

“I’ll put you on my Christmas list,” Monica promised. She leaned up and kissed Jimmy on the cheek. “I’m glad you were my last trick.”

After she left, Jimmy sat again in the chair behind his desk. He swiveled back to face the window. He didn’t for a moment believe that Monica’s arrival was pure coincidence. Richard must have planted her, knowing she had been his lay-of-the-week. Maybe he thought… Jimmy stopped. He couldn’t think of a single reason Richard would have gone to the trouble to find her.

“Mr. Buko,” his secretary’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes, Julie,” he called out to the intercom.

“Your brother is on line one, Mr. Buko.”

“Danny,” Jimmy picked up the phone and greeted his younger sibling. “What’s up?”

“Meet me for lunch, Jimmy.” Danny’s sentence was characteristically terse and hovered between statement and question.

“I’m doing those interviews today,” Jimmy reminded him.

“Meet me for lunch at the Beach House,” Danny repeated. “At one o’clock.”

“Okay,” Jimmy relented. “I’ll get Julie to make a reservation.”

“I already did. Bye.”

Jimmy shook his head as he hung up the phone. Danny was an enigma. As intelligent as anyone in some areas, he was naïve to the point of simplicity, almost an idiot savant. With perfect photographic recall, he could master any academic subject. But he seldom could apply any of the millions of facts at his command to useful purpose. Jimmy loved him with a fierceness that defied opposition, and protected him from the outer world with a diligence that only great wealth could purchase.

Jimmy’s reverie was again interrupted by the intercom. “Mr. Buko, Mr. Urbano is here.”

“Send him in,” Jimmy ordered.

“Richard,” he greeted his lawyer. “The conference call?”

“There was a slight hitch with the figures from Copenhagen but I persuaded Dallas to go ahead anyway. The adjustment was slight and shouldn’t affect profits over the long haul.”

“How long is the long haul?” Jimmy queried, his voice sharp.

“We’ll be down about a hundred thousand a day for the first three months. Then it will turn around. We should be back in the black within five months and showing a good profit within eight.”

“What’s a good profit?”

“Fifty thou a day, conservatively. The break-even on the initial investment comes at six months two weeks.”

“That’s my man,” Jimmy clapped his lawyer on the shoulder.

“It was your idea,” Richard reminded him. “I’m just the number-crunching, i-dotting, t-crosser.”

“Time to get to the real work, Mr. Crosser.”

“The women,” Richard groaned.

“The women,” Jimmy agreed. “You sit here and weed through ’em.”

He pushed the lawyer into the chair behind his desk.

“There should be,” he looked at the list on his desk, “fifteen left. Narrow it down to two or three. Good looking but not flashy. Intelligent. Sense of humor. Just find me the perfect woman.”

Richard’s head hung in his hands. The man could face down a hostile faction and save a profitable venture, but he cringed before a few eager women. Jimmy was still laughing as he walked out the door.

Chapter 10

Aggie stood in the lobby of the Vancouver Hotel. She wasn’t sure what Danny would look like. She had her doubts that he had managed to arrange an interview. She didn’t know if she could pull it off. At that moment, she had no idea what she was even doing in Vancouver.

She pulled down the hem of her sweater. At the last minute, she had insisted on wearing the outfit Angela had bought her in Atlanta. She hoped the pants and sweater would bring her luck, that some shred of good karma clung to the wool. Besides, it was comfortable and conservative and it made her feel pretty. Angela had capitulated with bad grace, certain the look was too plain. As the minutes dragged on, a niggle of doubt twisted into Aggie’s brain. Maybe Angela was right. Maybe the outfit was too plain.

“You are beautiful.”

The voice spoke from right behind her.

“Oh,” she turned and studied the young man who had startled her. He was tall and thin, his molded suit hinting at sleek muscles. His hair was blond and simply cut. His clear blue eyes stared into hers with unnerving intensity. He was a hunk. “Are you Danny?”

The words came out more breathless than Aggie anticipated. She cleared her throat and tried again.

“You must be Danny.” she thrust out her hand. “I’m Aggie Trout.”

“I’m Danny,” the young man agreed solemnly. “I didn’t know you were so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Aggie blushed.

“Come with me.”

The young man turned on his heel and walked away. Aggie hurried to catch up. Danny strode through the lobby and out the main door of the hotel. Then he turned left and started down the street.

“We’ll walk,” he announced.

“That’s fine,” Aggie agreed. “I like to walk.”

The young man shot her a sharp glance.

“That’s good,” he commented.

“Do you think we could go a little slower?” Aggie asked.

The man slacked his pace and Aggie adjusted her stride to approximate his.

“Tell me about your brother,” she essayed when she had her breath back.

“He’s a good person.”

Evidently Danny wasn’t big on small talk. He quickly confirmed her estimation.

“You talk,” he commanded. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Well,” Aggie began, “I’m a librarian. I live and work in Cincinnati.”

She waited for some response. None came, so she continued, trying to stick to the script she and Angela had agreed on. The words died unspoken as a sudden thought took precedence. Maybe she should turn on the tape recorder. She and Angela agreed that she wouldn’t be able to remember what she told the lawyer verbatim, that she should record every word. Aggie fumbled in her pocket and pushed what she hoped was the record button. Then she continued her monologue.

“I like my job. I love books and obviously the library is full of them.” Do I sound as stupid to him as I do to myself, she wondered. She tried again. Maybe a direct question would get a response, take some of the burden off her. “Do you like to read?”

“My brother does.”

Silence again. Still, she stored up the morsel of information, hoping it might prove useful at some point. They walked in silence for some moments and Aggie studied their surroundings. They were walking down a busy street lined with small shops. It felt almost European. She looked around for a street sign. Robson. Maybe she and Angela could come back here once the inquisition was past.

Several minutes and turns later, they walked by a huge mansion on the right. The next block held a more prosaic Safeway. The scent came to Aggie first, the familiar briny tang of the ocean. A moment later she began to recognize buildings and then their hotel came into view. If Angela was looking out the window she would see them, see Danny.

“This is beautiful,” she commented to throw Danny off track. She didn’t want him to guess that she knew this view well. He glanced at her and smiled, almost as if he knew. But he couldn’t, she reminded herself. “What is this body of water called?”

“English Bay.” The words were polite, but the accompanying look was almost disappointed.

They were walking along the seawall now and Aggie forgot her anxiety, forgot the scheming, forgot the coming ordeal, in the sheer pleasure of walking between ocean and green grass, passing and being passed by walkers and bikers, each intent on their journey. The place had a sense of combined peace and purpose that eased Aggie toward well-being. If only I could walk here every day, she thought, I think I would be a happy woman.

Reality returned as Danny steered her away from the seawall and up to a tall white apartment building.

“Is this where the interview is?” Aggie asked stupidly, all peace flown.

Danny nodded.

“So you did manage to get me an interview?” Aggie persisted.

“No.”

The word didn’t sound like an admission or an apology, just a simple statement of fact. Aggie stopped and pulled her elbow from her guide’s grip.

“Then why are we here, Danny?” she demanded.

“I’ll get you in.”

The young man sounded so calm and assured, Aggie almost believed him. After all, he was the man’s brother. Danny walked through the lobby and she followed. He stopped at a small elevator in a side hall. The door opened at his touch and he escorted her inside. Aggie’s anxiety flooded back. She felt ugly and stupid. She would never pull off the deception. The lawyer would see through her in a minute. Even if he didn’t, she was too ugly and stupid to convince him to let Angela be the twelve-day woman.

Through her panic, Aggie noticed that the elevator had only two buttons. One said ‘office’ and the other had no sign. Danny pressed ‘office’. They ascended swiftly, surely more than two floors. Aggie guessed that the elevator carried them to the top of the building. They stepped out onto a plush burnt orange carpet. A receptionist sat behind a large semi-circular desk. Two hallways, left and right, led back from the desk into the bowels of the office. No doors were visible from Aggie’s viewpoint. The lobby might have been designed to intimidate.

Aggie glanced at her watch. It was almost eleven.

“Put Ms. Trout in a room.” Danny told the receptionist

“Yes, Mr. Buko.” Aggie watched as she pressed a button behind the counter.

“When the others are done, send her in to Richard.” It was the longest sentence Aggie had heard Danny say.

“He won’t be happy,” the receptionist looked nervous.

“Tell him I said to interview her.”

“Of course, Mr. Buko.”

“Danny,” Aggie interrupted. “I don’t think this is such a good idea. If the lawyer really doesn’t want to see me…”

“Everything will be fine.” Danny’s voice held no reassurance, only conviction. He continued to the receptionist. “At 12:45, have her brought back out here to me.”

Then he vanished.

The first thing Aggie did after a young woman escorted her to an office was to pull the tape recorder from her pocket. She saw to her dismay that she had pressed ‘rewind’ instead of ‘record’. She memorized the location of the correct button and replaced the recorder in her pocket. She tried the button. Then she pulled the recorder back out. Bingo. As she went to put the device back in her pocket, Aggie thought of a complication. It was too hot. She couldn’t wear her coat to the interview. She shrugged out of the jacket and laid it across a small table. Then she pushed the ‘record’ button and put it in her purse. Angela had brought a loosely woven tapestry bag for this very purpose. The tape was for ninety minutes. Surely it wouldn’t run out before the interview.

Aggie checked her watch fifteen times over the ensuing hour. The time went no faster for her prodding. The room she sat in was pleasantly cluttered. Obviously someone’s unused office, it exuded family and warmth. Aggie sat glued to her chair for the first few minutes, two watch-checks, afraid someone would catch her if she snooped. Then she dragged the chair a foot closer to the desk and leaned in. The only visible paper was upside down to her. She struggled to decipher the text. It was a grocery list.

She examined the photographs behind the desk. A man, a man and a woman, and a man, woman and baby. A woman’s desk then. A man wouldn’t keep a solo picture of himself. The woman was in her late twenties, about Aggie’s age. With a husband and baby. Aggie felt a pang of envy. The bookshelf contained volumes of computer manuals. The woman must be a programmer. Aggie checked her watch for the tenth time.

Finally, at 12:33, the same young woman came back to the door.

“Mr. Urbano will see you now.”

Urbano. Aggie tucked the name away into her small stack of evidence. TransGlobe. Danny Buko. Urbano. English Bay. She followed the secretary down the hall. They arrived shortly at an imposing door. Aggie guessed from the glimpses she caught through open doors and windows that this office must have a great view of the water. Probably the head honcho’s. The young woman rapped once and then swung open the door.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake.” The man behind the desk spoke as Aggie entered the room. Aggie ignored his comment.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Urbano.” She walked forward with her hand outstretched. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The man’s eyes took in her appearance. The perusal was more invigorating than invading.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Miss Trout.”

Aggie walked to a chair in front of the desk and sat down.

“I’m afraid you have wasted your time,” the man began with an apologetic smile.

“Mr. Urbano,” Aggie countered, “Danny told me to come to Vancouver. He brought me here to your office.”

“Actually this isn’t my office.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just interview me? I’m here.”

“My client wants an honest woman, Miss Trout.”

“My name is Aggie,” she offered with what she hoped was an ingratiating smile. “And I am an honest woman.”

Most of the time, she added mentally.

“Why did you write from a New York post office box if you live and work in Cincinnati? “

“I was visiting my cousin. I explained that in my letter.”

“Why would you take a box if you were only visiting?”

“It was my s…cousin’s box.” Aggie hoped the small slip would pass unnoticed.

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-eight,” Aggie admitted as she and Angela had agreed. She hurried on. “I know you said thirty, but twenty-eight is close. I’ll be twenty-nine soon.”

“But you’re not thirty.”

“Look, Mr. Urbano, why don’t you ask me some real questions? I love reading and chess. I am the head librarian of a small branch library. Do you want me to recite the Dewey decimal system?”

For the first time, Richard cracked a smile. It lightened his expression from annoyed to merely suspicious.

“Why did Danny tell you to come to Vancouver?”

“To meet his brother.”

“I mean, why you? Why not one of the three thousand other rejects?”

“Three thousand?” Aggie echoed. “Whew.”

“I repeat, Miss Trout. Why you?”

“You’d have to ask Danny that, Mr. Urbano. Look, are you going to interview me?”

“I thought I was. You have an insinuating way, Miss Trout. I had no intention to listen to a word, and here we are, talking.”

Aggie smiled.

“But I’m afraid I can’t recommend you for the position.”

“Is that the missionary position?”

This time Richard laughed.

“All sorts of positions,” he admitted.

Maybe he was rethinking the rejection. The longer she kept him talking, the more likely he would relent. Just like a hostage situation. Keep them talking and avoid the ax. Aggie hurried on.

“I’m eager.” She and Angela had decided on the word as suggestive but not vulgar.

“What are you willing to do?”

Aggie sensed a challenge in the lawyer’s words. Still the descriptions stuck in her throat. She thought of Angela’s advice and remembered her sister’s plight.

“Anything.” The word was hampered by the gulp in her throat.

“Give me a list.” The man would not give in. Still, he hadn’t thrown her out of the office yet.

“Bondage?” she tried.

“Have you ever tried it?”

“No,” she admitted. “But I would.”

“For one hundred twenty thousand dollars?”

“No,” Aggie realized the truth as she spoke it. “For the curiosity. I’d try it once just to try it.”

“It could be twelve times,” the lawyer warned. Aggie swallowed and nodded. “What else would you do?”

“Discipline?”

“Have you tried that?”

“No,” Aggie admitted again. “I’m not too sure that I want to.”

“I’m glad you’re being honest at last.” The man didn’t smile.

“What else?”

Aggie felt her face flush. She hated to admit to this urge and she squirmed on her chair.

“Sodomy.” The word came out as a whisper.

“Is that a curious interest or an I’ll-do-it-if-I-have-too interest?”

Again Aggie paused. She looked down at her lap.

“Curious.”

The man leaned toward her. “What was that?”

“I said ‘curious’,” Aggie repeated more loudly.

“Any other sexual ‘curiosity’?” The man’s tone was faintly mocking. Aggie debated snapping back at him, but swallowed her spleen for Angela’s sake.

“Not that I can think of.”

“What about oral sex?”

“Sure,” Aggie answered. “I thought that was a given. I like all the normal stuff.”

The lawyer smiled.

“I think you do,” he commented. “One last question. What do you want the money for?”

Aggie panicked. She and Angela hadn’t thought of the one most obvious question. She couldn’t tell him the truth, to get her sister who was going to masquerade as her out of prostitution. What else would have compelled her to respond to an ad like that? She couldn’t think of a single reason.

“Thank you, Miss Trout.” The lawyer stood up from behind the desk.

“Don’t you want to hear…” Aggie began. Still she drew a blank.

“You’re a lovely young woman, Miss Trout,” the lawyer began his kiss-off. “You even seem to have the right attitudes about sex, at least as far as we talked. But the fact is that you’re a fraud.”

Aggie sat mute as a statue. She couldn’t deny the charge.

“I’m not sure what your game is,” the lawyer continued. “But I’m afraid you aren’t acceptable for the position. Any position.”

Aggie remembered her earlier joke about the missionary position. No humor now could penetrate her sense of failure. She had let her sister down. A simple interview, and she had frozen on the first unrehearsed question. Suddenly the answer was clear to her, and she blurted it out.

“It wasn’t the money, Mr. Urbano,” she explained. “It was the fact that he offered the money. The man behind the offer intrigues me.”

“A good answer, Miss Trout.” The man smiled and extended his hand. “Too bad you remembered it a few minutes too late.”

It’s the truth, Aggie wanted to shout. But the interview was over. She followed the lawyer to the door and turned to shake his hand as she stepped out.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Urbano.” Her dignity was as firm as her grip. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out better.”

Aggie glanced again at her watch as she walked straight-backed down the hall. It was 12:45. The interview had taken twelve minutes.

When she arrived back at the lobby, Danny was standing silently by the reception desk.

“Aggie,” he greeted her. Just the one flat word. “Come with me.”

“It didn’t work, Danny.”

“Come with me,” he repeated.

“Mr. Urbano told me ‘no’,” Aggie tried to explain as they walked to the elevator. “I’ll just go back to my…”

She had almost said ‘sister’, Aggie realized.

“Hotel,” she completed the sentence.

“I’ll buy you lunch.”

“That’s all right.” Aggie wanted to get as far from Danny and TransGlobe and Mr. Buko and Mr. Urbano as she could. There was no chance she would get to meet the elusive placer-of-the-ad anyway. He was the only one that had interested her from the beginning and he remained as firmly hidden as ever behind his league of minions. Aggie laughed inwardly at her flowery choice of internal words. Time to get back to the library.

“I’d rather go to the hotel,” she tried to insist.

“Come with me.”

Danny again ignored her protest. Did he ever listen? Was he a robot?

“Why do you want me to come to lunch?” Direct questions had worked before. Maybe she would get an answer to this one.

“I want you to meet my brother.”

That was an answer. Aggie wanted very much to meet this brother. She followed Danny meekly into the elevator.

Chapter 11

Jimmy drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. He glanced at his watch. Danny was almost five minutes late. A mild anxiety overshadowed the anger he would have felt had the latecomer been anyone else. Danny was punctual to the second. And he wasn’t particularly good at navigating the streets. Two more minutes and Jimmy would begin to retrace the route from the restaurant back to the office.

With ten seconds to spare, Jimmy spotted Danny just outside the entrance to the restaurant. He had a woman with him. A tall auburn-haired beauty. As they stepped through the doors, Jimmy got a better look at his brother’s companion. It was the woman he had envisioned that morning. A face like a Botticelli and a body like a Giacometti. The young woman took off her coat and handed it to a server. No, he revised. Giacometti’s figures were too thin. Hers was perfect. Jimmy felt an unfamiliar envy of his brother. As they approached the table, Jimmy stood.

“This is Aggie,” his brother introduced simply.

“Hi,” she offered with her hand.

Her grip was perfect, the muscles strong and the skin soft.

“I’m Jimmy Buko.”

He signaled for the waiter to bring another chair, then guided the young woman into the seat himself. He and Danny sat flanking her on either side.

“Do you have a last name, Aggie?”

“It’s Trout. Aggie Trout.”

“I’m hooked,” Jimmy laughed then winced. “You must have heard that a million times.”

“Maybe a few,” Aggie smiled.

“So, you’re Danny’s friend,” Jimmy tried again. Stupid, he thought. That’s obvious.

“Actually,” Aggie began.

For the first and perhaps only time in his life, Danny interrupted.

“Yes,” he stated. “Aggie is my friend.”

“I’m glad,” Jimmy smiled. He shut the tap on his flowing hormones. He couldn’t think these thoughts about a woman with Danny.

“What do you do, Aggie?” Surely that was an innocuous question.

“I’m a librarian.”

Jimmy waited in vain for her to elaborate. Maybe she had Danny’s habit of terse speech. The young woman shook herself and her hair fluttered around her head. Jimmy resisted the instant but trite image of a halo. Then she seemed to come alive.

“What do you do?” she asked. Her eyes shot sparks of mischief. He bet she knew exactly who he was.

“I work for TransGlobe. I’m an accountant.”

Jimmy waited for Danny to call his bluff. His brother smiled and remained silent. Jimmy watched the young woman’s face closely. Was that disappointment? If so, she recovered quickly.

“I’m not from Canada, so I don’t know much about TransGlobe. What do you make?”

Jimmy would rather talk about her.

“Transactions.” He borrowed a sentence from Danny’s abbreviated grammar. “Where are you from?”

“I’m originally from Alabama,” she began.

“You don’t have an accent,” he interrupted.

“Not any more. I moved to Cincinnati to go to university. Then I stayed there to work after I graduated.”

“What brought you to Vancouver?”

The young woman glanced uncertainly at Danny.

“She answered your ad, Jimmy,” he answered for her.

Jimmy’s shoulders unconsciously straightened. He caught the young woman’s alert smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Did Richard send you over with Danny?” he asked.

“No. He rejected me.”

“Why?” If she was as intelligent as she appeared, the woman probably read her eventual acceptance from that single word. Where had his poker face and voice disappeared to?

“He didn’t trust me,” she smiled. Her eyes added, but you can.

Jimmy struggled to retreat mentally. He trusted Richard’s judgment. There must be a flaw in the perfect woman.

“Why?” he repeated like a parrot. Where had his wits gone? Straight to the bulge that inflated his pants.

“He didn’t like it that I wrote from New York but I work in Cincinnati. I explained that I was visiting a cousin and used her box number, but he didn’t believe me.”

The young woman looked less than at ease for the first time since she had recognized his attraction to her. Richard was probably right. She was probably lying.

“Was there anything else?” he continued to probe.

“He asked me why I wanted the money and I didn’t have an answer right away.”

“Why do you want the money?”

“It’s not the money,” she began. Jimmy’s incredulous expression must have stopped her. After a moment, she carried on.

“It’s a lot of money,” she agreed. “I do want the money, of course, but I was more intrigued to meet a man who would write an ad like that. You’re not really an accountant, are you?”

The abrupt question caught Jimmy by surprise.

“No,” he admitted. He was saved from further comment by the waiter.

Once the orders were taken, the young woman went back on the attack.

“You own TransGlobe, right?”

“Yes,” Jimmy admitted.

“I’ve seen it on the Exchange. You must be worth a lot of money.”

“Lots.”

“I bet you got a lot of gold-diggers answering the ad.”

“Almost nothing but.”

“Well, I’m not after your money. Not any more than the one twenty K anyway.”

“Why not?” Jimmy was intrigued. He found he liked the sound of her voice.

“I like my job,” Aggie explained. “I like working. Big money scares me.”

“Why does it scare you?”

“You know the saying about power corrupts? Well, I imagine money corrupts too.”

“So you think I must be corrupt?”

The woman gave him a hard look. Jimmy mentally stripped himself bare before her. Their eyes held until hers lowered as her face flushed.

“No,” she responded thoughtfully. “I don’t think you’re corrupt. At least not yet.”

Jimmy laughed. Before he could think of an adequate response, the waiter brought their lunches. Jimmy ate raw oysters followed by clam chowder. Danny had ordered salmon and Aggie a seafood crepe. Aggie winced as Jimmy picked up an oyster shell and slid the gooey mollusk down his throat.

“I don’t see how you can eat those things,” she commented.

“They’re delicious,” Jimmy commented. “Just think, if Richard hadn’t rejected you, I could have made you eat them every night.”

“Oh, God.” Aggie made a grotesque face. “I thought you just wanted sex!”

Jimmy made up his mind on the spot. This was the one. Maybe not for the rest of his life, but definitely for the next twelve nights.

“If you still want the job, it’s yours,” he offered casually.

“What?” she asked.

“Do you still want to,” Jimmy fumbled for words. “To do what the ad said, for twelve nights?”

Aggie grinned.

“Would you make me eat oysters?” she teased.

“I might,” Jimmy teased back.

“I would throw up,” Aggie warned. “My mother wanted to give me some medicine one time and I warned her I would throw up. She gave it to me anyway and I did. Throw up, I mean.”

“What a lovely lunch table topic,” Jimmy commented.

“I just want you to know that I mean what I say.”

“You’ll agree to everything but oysters?”

“Yes,” the young woman answered without hesitation. She almost sounded eager. Jimmy was glad he wouldn’t be standing up for another few minutes. It would give him time to subdue the bulge.

“We’ll go back to the office when we’re finished with lunch. I’m sure Richard will be relieved that the hard part is over.”

“The hard part?” Aggie’s words held laughter and double entendre.

“The interviewing,” Jimmy clarified.

“Oh, that hard part,” Aggie nodded. “I assume there will be other hard parts?”

“You can put money on it,” Jimmy agreed. His cock pressed solid into the zipper seam of his trousers and he shifted in his seat. Jesus, she saw that, too. Her eyes caught too damn much. Maybe he should start tonight instead of tomorrow.

“I brought the contract.” Danny spoke for the first time in several minutes.

“You what?” Jimmy asked, ninety percent of his attention still on his cock and the young woman across the table.

“I brought the contract,” Danny repeated. “You can sign here.”

Jimmy looked thoughtfully at his younger brother.

“You knew she’d be the one, didn’t you?” he asked.

“I knew,” Danny admitted.

“So you brought her to lunch.”

“I knew.”

“And you brought the contract.”

Danny’s lips remained closed. He seldom repeated himself more than twice. Jimmy took the contract from his outstretched hand and offered it to Aggie with a pen.

“Don’t you want to read it?” he asked as she flipped through the pages to the signature lines.

“Oh,” she seemed startled. “Yeah, sure.”

Aggie turned back to page one. Her eyes widened at the diverse list of sexual activities. She took a deep breath that tightened the sweater across her breasts and appeared to firm her resolve. Jimmy’s cock throbbed. When she came to the time specifications, she paused.

“Twenty-four hours a day is too much,” she demurred. “We can’t do it for 288 hours straight anyway.”

“Two hundred eighty-eight?” Jimmy asked.

“Twelve times two for twenty four hours a day, times twelve days. I just multiplied the twelves first,” Aggie explained as Danny nodded. She added with a smile, “How do you keep track of your money?”

“I don’t. The ad said ‘companion’,” Jimmy reminded her. “That’s more than sex.”

“I need some privacy,” she insisted. “I don’t want to move in with you. Wouldn’t eight hours be enough? Like a regular work day.”

“Six pm to two am,” Danny suggested.

Jimmy thought for a moment. He would be running TransGlobe during the day anyway. He could afford to capitulate on the small points. He nodded his agreement.

“What happens if we don’t make it the full twelve days? Do I get a prorated amount?”

“No.”

“No?” Aggie frowned. “What if I break a leg? What if you break a leg?”

“The contract is all or nothing. Twelve days or no money.”

“Are you some kind of weird pervert? Are you afraid I’ll leave? Maybe you’re going to do something awful on the eleventh day so I’ll leave and you won’t have to pay me.”

Jimmy laughed. “You’re thinking like an American, Aggie. I’m just an ordinary rich Canadian guy. Nothing up my sleeves.”

“Ordinary,” he repeated. “Rich.”

Aggie shook her head, but she kept reading until she came to page four.

“This says I indemnify you from all claims for personal injury.”

“Lawyer talk,” Jimmy waved the words away.

“I don’t mind signing away my right to sue you for unusual sexual practice and I agree with the privacy section. I don’t want this to become public any more than you do. I’m a librarian for heaven’s sake.”

“In Cincinnati,” Jimmy agreed. He loved that voice. Maybe she would keep arguing through the whole afternoon.

“But you have to guarantee that I won’t be injured. Kinky is one thing, but I’m no masochist.”

“Give me the contract,” Jimmy demanded. He agreed with her request. He certainly didn’t intend to damage her and had told Richard to write that into the contract. He thought for a moment, then printed across the bottom of the contract. I agree that you will suffer no physical injury through this contract. This agreement supersedes all other clauses of the contract.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“I think that’s enough,” Aggie mused. “I wish I was a lawyer.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Aggie. I promise.”

She looked again deep into his eyes and Jimmy held her gaze steadily. He would never hurt this beautiful creature. He sighed in relief when she broke eye contact and scrawled an unreadable wiggle across the signature line. He picked up the contract and tried to decipher her signature.

“A. Trout,” she offered. “You’ve landed yourself a fish, Jimmy.”

“The reeling in was good sport,” he chuckled as he took the pen from her fingers. “Do you mind if we move the date up? I find I’m eager to begin.”

“No,” she blurted then blushed.

“Tonight, then.” He pushed back his chair and held out his hand as she rose. He held a napkin carelessly in front of his trousers, then caught her look and lowered the napkin to the table. His cock throbbed painfully under her eyes. How many more hours?

Chapter 12

Angela tried to wait patiently for her sister’s return. She tried to watch television. She tried to read a book. She even tried to meditate. Nothing worked. Finally she gave up and paced the suite from the door down the hall to the living room, back down the hall to the bedroom and then back to the door. She was sure she was wearing a rut in the carpet. The hotel manager would make her pay for the damage. Aggie wouldn’t get the job for her. Her life would be ruined. Angela was running toward the bathroom to throw up when her sister walked calmly through the door.

The gorge vanished.

“Did you get it?” she pounced, grabbing Aggie by both shoulders and pulling her into the room.

“You have,” Aggie looked at her watch, “three hours.”

“What took you so long?” Angela asked. Then the import of her sister’s words sank in. “You got it!?!”

“Yes,” Aggie agreed from the center of a smothering hug.

“Three hours?” Angela pulled back and looked at her sister’s face. “He wants to start tonight?”

Aggie nodded and turned away.

“What’s wrong?” Angela asked. “Is he old and ugly?”

“No.” Aggie thought for a moment. “He’s late thirties or early forties. He’s not handsome, but he’s not ugly.”

“What does he look like?”

“He’s not very tall, probably about our height, maybe shorter. Not thin but not fat. But he probably will be in a few more years.”

“Ugh,” Angela made a face. “Does he have any hair?”

“Lots,” Aggie smiled. “Salt and pepper. Very thick. He has a big nose.”

“For a hundred and twenty thousand dollars, I’ll close my eyes and pretend he’s Richard Gere.”

“He’s nice, Boo,” Aggie protested. “I liked him.”

Angela brushed the comment aside. “So, tell me everything that happened. Did you make the tape?”

Aggie pulled the tape recorder out of her purse.

“I got the interview with the lawyer, but the tape ran out before Jimmy and Danny and I had lunch.”

“Jimmy and Danny and you? Sounds chummy.”

“I got you the money, Angela.”

At last the weariness in her sister’s voice penetrated Angela’s excitement.

“You poor thing!” she exclaimed. “Lie down on the sofa while we listen to the tape.”

Aggie hung her coat in the closet and flopped back onto the couch. Angela pressed the play button and they listened together to the muffled and mostly silent walk to the apartment.

“Danny doesn’t talk much,” Aggie commented. “He’s a little odd, but he’s sweet.”

“One brother’s ‘nice’ and the other’s ‘sweet’,” Angela teased. “I’ll buy you a thesaurus for Christmas.”

“Shh,” Aggie hushed her. “Here’s the interview.”

The recorder had worked well through the purse.

I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. A deep rich voice filled the room.

“Mmmm,” Angela commented. “I like him.”

“He’s okay,” Aggie agreed. “He’s the lawyer. Mr. Urbano. He rejected me.”

“I thought you said…”

“Just listen,” Aggie interrupted. “I’ll tell you the rest after the tape.”

The twins sat in silence as the tape replayed Richard’s questions and Aggie’s responses. The ninety minute tape had run out during Aggie’s walk with Danny to the Beach House Restaurant. Angela’s twin recalled as much as she could of her lunch-time conversation with the two Buko brothers. When she was finished, Aggie handed Angela her copy of the contract. Angela put on her glasses and read the pages quickly but carefully.

“When did you get glasses?” Aggie asked.

“A few months ago. Shh.” Angela returned to the document.

“I didn’t wear glasses when I read the contract in the restaurant today. Jimmy knows I don’t need them.”

“I’ll manage,” Angela insisted impatiently. “I don’t think he wants me to read to him. Oh, God.”

“What?”

“It’s all or nothing.”

“I tried to argue that one. He wouldn’t budge.”

“So if he’s really bad and I can’t hack it after a few days, I get nothing.” Angela swallowed down the anxiety that rose up her throat.

“He’s not really bad, Angela,” her sister insisted. “I liked him.”

“Then you go!” Angela challenged.

“No thanks. I’ll get my man the old-fashioned way.”

Angela noticed but refrained from commenting on the fact that her sister didn’t mention her boyfriend, Andrew. She read further.

“You got him down from twenty-four to eight hours a day. Good.”

“Actually, Danny helped. He suggested the hours.”

“I start at six o’clock tonight.” Angela looked at her watch. “That’s two hours!”

“Is there anything on the sex list you would have said ‘no’ to?”

Angela heard the anxiety in her twin’s voice. She read the list again.

“I don’t like anal,” she commented. “The rest is okay.”

“I told the lawyer I didn’t like the idea of discipline,” Aggie explained. “Spanking.”

“Spanking’s okay,” Angela said.

“You’d better pretend you don’t like it.”

“Yes,” Angela agreed absently. She looked down the rest of the list. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

“I don’t even know what some of this stuff is,” Aggie commented.

“That’s okay. You’re not the one doing it.”

“What’s a fist fuck?”

“When the person puts his fist inside your vagina.”

“Ouch.”

Angela laughed when her sister crossed her legs. “Usually another woman does it. Most guy’s hands are too big and inflexible.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that one then. Jimmy isn’t the type to delegate.” Aggie paused. “I don’t think….”

The twins sat in silence for a moment. Angela didn’t know what her sister was thinking. She herself was waiting for the anxiety in her belly to metamorphose into arousal. She would be having sex in about two hours, she estimated. She had better get the juices flowing.

“I’m going to stay for the twelve days.” Aggie’s words broke Angela’s concentration.

“Thank you.” Angela realized as she heard her sister’s words how much she had dreaded being abandoned. The truth was she was nervous. A guy who spent three hundred dollars a night thought he could ask a lot. What would a man who spent ten thousand expect? She stood up and shook herself, an old trick to relieve tension.

“Okay,” she announced. “Time to get dressed. Let’s pick out something sexy.”

“No,” Aggie disagreed. “Wear the same outfit I wore today. He liked it.”

“He’ll expect me to wear something more arousing, Aggie.”

“No, he won’t.” Aggie spoke with conviction. “He expects a librarian, not a prostitute.”

“I have to remember that,” Angela agreed.

“Besides, the outfit will reinforce that it’s the same person. He won’t look at you as closely.”

“There’s nothing to see. We look exactly the same.”

“Your eyes could change color,” Aggie reminded her.

“That’s true.” The twins’ eye color changed by some internal chemistry to match their clothing, shifting from gray to hazel to almost blue. “By tomorrow he’ll be used to me. Then I can wear other colors and it won’t matter. You’re right, I’ll wear the gray tonight.”

Angela and Aggie reversed their usual roles as the librarian helped her twin decide on accessories and makeup. They settled on a simple pearl necklace and a matching pearl ring, a light dusting of powder, pale lipstick and some mascara. Angela felt too much her real self to be comfortable. She realized that she preferred to put on her hooker glamour before she met a man for sex. She felt vulnerable.

The twins agreed that Angela should take a taxi from the Vancouver Hotel, rather than walk the few hundred yards from their hotel to the apartment. She climbed into a cab in the basement of the Sylvia and directed the driver to the larger hotel. Inside, she took an elevator up to the fifth floor and then back down. She lingered in the lobby. Then at 5:50 she climbed into another cab and directed the man to 2071 Beach Avenue. Aggie had noted the address on the building as she left.

The anxiety in her stomach refused to abate but instead built as the taxi inched through the late rush hour traffic. By the time the cab pulled up to the apartment, she was squeezing the elbow rest in a death grip. Her legs wobbled when she swung them out of the back seat of the cab. She clutched her purse, rooted to the curb as the taxi nosed back into the traffic.

“Aggie!”

The eagerness in the man’s voice startled Angela. She turned and saw him holding open the door to the apartment block. He was short, almost dumpy, with a fleshy face and thick black and gray hair. This must be Jimmy. As she came closer, she saw that his eyes glowed with warmth. She had never seen that look in a john’s eyes. Her anxiety turned into a hard lump in her stomach as she realized that the man really liked Aggie. He wasn’t here just for the sex. He actually liked her. The evening would be ten times more difficult than she had thought. Angela pasted what she hoped was an Aggie-smile across her face.

“Jimmy!” She opened her arms wide.

The man’s smile lingered but the glow in his eyes dimmed. What had she done wrong? She turned her offered hug into a hand on each of his broad shoulders. Then she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Yes, that’s what Aggie would have done. The man put his hand on the small of her back and ushered her into the apartment lobby. She began to walk to the elevator, but he steered her instead down a side hallway. When he pushed the button on a smaller side elevator, she wondered what else Aggie had forgotten to tell her.

Inside the elevator, Jimmy pushed an unmarked button and then turned Angela to face him. She unbuttoned her coat, trying to be innocent and seductive at the same time. After all, it was warm in the elevator. It was a natural thing to do.

“I’m glad you wore the same outfit,” Jimmy commented. Angela mentally thanked Aggie. “I’ve been imagining you out of it all afternoon.”

Angela smiled in relief. After all, he was a man. She could handle men. She tried to imagine what Aggie’s reaction would be to the suggestive comment. She ducked her head in mock-shyness, then looked out under her eyebrows.

“I noticed you liked it,” she commented.

The man smiled and the glow came back into his eyes. She had said the right thing.

“I like you, Aggie,” he said and Angela believed him. “We’re going to do this right.”

Angela closed her eyes and leaned into his chest. Remorse swept through her. It should be Aggie here with this man. She knew that down to her bones. She resolved that however she had to, she would persuade Aggie to take her place the next night, and that for tonight, whatever they did, she wouldn’t let him come inside her. She didn’t want to live for the rest of her life knowing she’d screwed Aggie’s man.

They stepped out of the elevator into the most unusual apartment Angela had ever seen. Apparently, the entire floor was given to the one suite. The apartment had its own circular lobby floored in gray marble banded in black concentric circles. The ceiling was… Angela struggled for an adequate description. The ceiling was weird. Sculpted in ever narrowing circles as it rose, it culminated in a round skylight. Angela could hear the light patter of rain.

“Wow,” she commented.

“Do you like it?” Jimmy asked. “Everybody said I was crazy.”

What would Aggie think of the bizarre entrance? Angela thought it would appeal to her sense of humor. She would love it.

“I love it,” she smiled. “It tells me you have a sense of fun.”

“And no taste,” Jimmy laughed. The sound boomed out from his chest and while startling, was comforting in its naturalness.

“Show me the rest of the apartment,” Angela invited.

Jimmy took her on a tour. The living room directly ahead was a semi-circle filled with circular furniture. Angela shook her head and chuckled. The dining room was another semi-circle with a circular table. Floor to ceiling windows provided what in daylight should be a spectacular view of English Bay. To the left of the dining room was another windowed room, this one with a glass dome for a ceiling. Inside was a circular, of course, pool, with a banked running track around the edge. Angela wondered what Freud would make of all the circles. A nesting impulse, perhaps?

Jimmy led her back across the central lobby toward a room to the right of the elevator. The bedroom? Angela’s knees wobbled and Jimmy put his hand under her elbow. No, she saw with relief; he was taking her into a library. The room was rectangular and glowed golden from subdued lighting over the carved oak bookshelves. Angela knew her mating instincts were correct when she saw the rows and rows of books. This was a serious library, and this man was made for her sister. He had more books in here, lovingly displayed, than Aggie had in her branch of the Cincinnati public library.

“Have you read all these books?” she asked, awed.

“Most,” Jimmy shrugged. “So, Madame Librarian, do you approve of my library?”

“It’s wonderful!” Angela didn’t have to feign her enthusiasm. Her eyes locked onto a tall shelf loaded with thick volumes. She walked over and selected a volume.

“Modigliani,” she breathed reverently.

“You like art?”

“I majored,” Angela stopped herself. “I would have majored in art history if I could have.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“No jobs.”

“I’m a collector,” Jimmy commented. “This is just a small portion of my collection.”

“You need a librarian,” Angela commented, forgetting that that was exactly what she was supposed to be. The comment sounded self-serving, though she’d meant it to be offhand.

“Exactly,” Jimmy smiled. He must think she was flirting. As far as she knew, Aggie didn’t flirt, but Jimmy didn’t seem surprised. Then he changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”

Angela hadn’t had time to eat in her rush to get ready.

“I’m starved.”

“Good. I had dinner delivered from one of my favorite restaurants.”

They walked through a small door in the side wall of the library and ended up in a shiny modern kitchen. No circles here, except for the pots and pans hanging from the ceiling rack.

“Shall we eat in here?” Jimmy asked.

“Please,” Angela smiled. The room was much cozier than the more formal dining room. “Shall I set the table?”

Jimmy motioned toward a tall hutch. Inside Angela found everything she needed, earthenware plates, tall crystal glasses for water and wine, gleaming silver cutlery and soft linen napkins. She set two places on the small round oak table tucked into a bay window. Meanwhile, Jimmy pulled dishes from the oven. The smells wafted from beneath the covers and Angela’s stomach rumbled.

“I hope you like Hungarian,” Jimmy commented as he lifted the lid from a ceramic casserole.

Aggie was the more adventurous eater of the two twins, but Angela agree readily that Hungarian was fine. The food smelled delicious. Moments later, she found it tasted as good as it smelled. Angela relaxed as they ate. The hot food and Jimmy’s calm demeanor combined to ease her anxiety back into a forgotten corner of her mind. They talked of many things, travel, art, books. At first Angela tried to be Aggie, but soon she was caught up in their conversation and answering as herself. She noticed that Jimmy’s eyes grew sharper as they talked, but decided that his alertness wasn’t suspicion. He was as involved in the discussion as she was. Aggie was right; he was nice. Too nice to fuck the wrong twin.

Eventually Angela was too full to eat another bite. Always on tricks before, she had been careful not to eat even if offered a meal. A full stomach didn’t help with the sex later. She wondered why she hadn’t remembered her rule tonight. Because the evening had none of the earmarks of prostitution. But the final expectation would be the same. Hungarian spices rose back up her throat. How could she avoid the inevitable?

She and Jimmy rose in silence and placed the dishes in the sink. Then he turned to her and took her hand.

“Shall I show you the bedroom?” His voice was husky.

“Yes,” Angela breathed.

They walked back through the lobby and toward a closed door.

“Can I go to the bathroom first?” Angela asked.

“Of course,” Jimmy smiled. He pointed toward a smaller door to the right of the bedroom entrance.

Angela smiled through her desperation as she entered the room. A perfect circle, the bathroom held a circular tub beneath a circular skylight. The urge to throw up receded as she calmed. She would just tell him, she decided. She would tell him it was too soon. She would say that they’d make love tomorrow night and then she’d convince Aggie to come. By the time Angela had relieved herself and splashed some cold water on her face, she felt better. The man liked Aggie; the plan would work. In half an hour, she’d be back at the hotel with her sister.

Angela didn’t see Jimmy when she exited the bathroom. She found him in the library, looking at the Modigliani book she had selected.

“I never really appreciated him before,” he commented. “Now I feel I see him through your eyes.”

Angela’s smile wavered. He really was a nice man, just as Aggie had said. She had to get herself out of this apartment and get Aggie back in her place.

“Shall we go into the bedroom?” Jimmy asked.

“I don’t,” Angela began then didn’t know what to say. If she refused outright, he might call off the contract and then Aggie wouldn’t be able to come tomorrow night. Angela felt the floorboards narrow to a tightrope beneath her feet. She turned and walked ahead of Jimmy out of the room. He held open the door to the bedroom and waited for her to enter. Angela stepped across the threshold.

“It’s nice.” The words sounded strangled, but the setting really was beautiful. The room was a huge bay, with glass on 270 degrees of wall. The ceiling was a round skylight with a retracting dome half pulled back. Muted rain made a natural background music. A round bed sat directly beneath the skylight. Angela listened to the click of her heels as she walked across the pale hardwood floor. “It’s like a nest.”

Jimmy smiled. “I always wanted a tree house.”

“I like it, Jimmy,” Angela began. “I really like it, but I’m not ready. This is all new to me.”

The lie lodged in Angela’s throat. She looked at Jimmy pleadingly. The situation might not be new, but her reluctance was solid gold genuine.

“Let me see your body, Aggie,” Jimmy asked. “I’ve waited all day.”

“I can’t…”

“Just let me look. I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

Angela found she trusted him. She stared at the floor to hide the next lie.

“I’ve never stripped in front of someone before.”

“You’re beautiful, Aggie. Let me look at you.”

Angela couldn’t resist Jimmy’s soft words. After all, he could see her in a bikini. This wasn’t much more. Her eyes still on the floor, she began to remove her clothing. She moved without artifice, made no effort to be alluring. When she reached her underwear, she turned away from Jimmy toward the bed. Warm hands touched her back and unhooked her bra. She slid the black lace from her shoulders. Her fingers trembled as she slid the flimsy silk of her panties down her thighs and to the floor. She straightened with her back still to Jimmy.

“Turn around,” he commanded.

Slowly she turned, keeping her eyes downcast. His finger touched her chin and raised her head. She looked up into his eyes. She saw appreciation there, but not the glow of warmth that had lit them before. Jimmy ran his hand down her shoulder and goosebumps followed in his wake. He touched the side of her breast and the nipple rose autonomously.

“Please, Jimmy,” Angela begged. “I’m not ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to make love.”

“Your body is ready,” Jimmy commented. His hand was on her hip now.

“My mind isn’t ready. My heart isn’t ready,” Angela pleaded. “Can we just lie down together, but not do anything? Just for one night.”

“You’re asking for the moon, Aggie.” Jimmy’s hand stroked up and down her side and his eyes never left hers.

“I know,” she whispered.

“What if I cancel the contract?”

Tears pooled in Angela’s eyes. She needed the money desperately. The money was her ticket to a life. But she couldn’t make love with this man. She lowered her gaze from his.

“All right,” she agreed into the floor.

Jimmy’s hand returned to her chin and lifted her face to his. He planted a swift hard closed-mouth kiss on Angela’s lips.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he commented. “All right. For one night, we’ll lie together naked, no more.”

Angela was trembling too hard to continue standing. She sank onto the bed as Jimmy removed his clothes. His body was all right but not spectacular. She noted without arousal that his semi-erect cock was a nice size, though again not spectacular. What caught her attention were his balls. Now, they were spectacular. They hung full and loose against his upper thighs. Those balls could produce an army of children. And Aggie loved children, Angela thought with satisfaction. She smiled.

“You like it?” Jimmy asked. He strutted his nude male body back and forth in front of the bed.

“You have a very nice body,” Angela agreed. He reminded her of a bantam rooster.

“You sure you don’t want…?”

“Not tonight,” Angela demurred. She stood and turned back toward the bed. When she bent down to open the covers, Jimmy groaned.

“That ass.” He groaned again.

Angela laughed. “It’ll be the same ass tomorrow night.”

But it wouldn’t, Angela thought as she slipped between the sheets. No matter what she had to do, she would persuade Aggie to take her place tomorrow night. Jimmy slid his solid warmth into the other side of the bed. He snugged himself in behind her body spoon-wise, one hand draped over her waist and up her chest. She eased his fingers from her breast.

“Tomorrow,” she promised.

Chapter 13

Aggie turned over in the bed and looked at her watch. It was six o’clock. She heard the door to the apartment open. What? Angela should have come back hours before. The evening either went very well or very badly.

“Angela,” she called.

Her sister walked into the bedroom. She looked well-rested for the aftermath of a night of debauchery. Aggie smothered the flicker of jealousy that flared briefly in her chest.

“How did it go?” Aggie asked.

“Fine,” her twin answered with a smug smile. “I bought us some bagels for breakfast. Let me heat them up and then I’ll tell you all about it.”

Aggie trailed her sister into the kitchen. Angela started a pot of coffee then sliced a bagel and put it in the toaster. She slathered the hot pastry with butter and offered half to her sister.

“Ugh,” Aggie pushed the bagel away. “Too much butter. So, tell me what happened.”

“Nothing.”

“What? Did he call the deal off?”

“Nope,” Angela answered around a mouthful of dripping bagel. “He really likes you, you know.”

“Me?” Aggie asked as warmth stole into her belly.

Angela nodded and swallowed.

“I told him I wasn’t ready for sex last night,” she commented offhand then grinned. “And he bought it.”

“He what?” Aggie protested. “He almost jumped me in the restaurant yesterday. Are you telling me he didn’t want to do anything?”

“Oh, he wanted to. But we just slept naked in bed together. He has a really hot body.”

“Jimmy?”

“Not hot like sexy. I mean physically hot. He’s like a furnace.”

“Oh.” Aggie digested the information. She found she wasn’t thrilled that Angela had slept naked with Jimmy. She had known what to expect; sleeping naked was much milder, though almost more intimate. Why should it upset her? Because she was attracted to him herself, she realized. She wanted to be the one snuggled up next to his furnace.

“I want you to go in my place tonight,” Angela said.

If she had expected opposition, she wasn’t going to get it.

“Okay,” Aggie agreed immediately.

“What?” Angela sputtered. “I thought I’d have to wrestle you out the door.”

“No,” Aggie smiled. “You’re right. I like him. You can keep the money. I just want the man.”

Eleven nights. Eleven nights of blissful sex with an adorable, intelligent man. A man with a sense of humor. Aggie felt herself dampen down below. Aggie was sure that Jimmy was a man who enjoyed sex, a man with a voracious appetite. Her crotch grew warm as the dampness spread. Would he want to do forbidden things? Aggie refused to name them even to herself. As she had admitted to the lawyer, she was curious about certain sexual practices. With Jimmy, she could see herself trying even…

“Wait till you see his library,” Angela gushed. “You’ll go nuts. It’s bigger than yours in Cincinnati. Just don’t go too ape-shit. Remember, you supposedly saw it last night.”

Aggie pumped her twin for every detail of the apartment, their dinner, Jimmy’s words and actions and her responses. By the time her twin wound down, Aggie had regained control of her fantasies. Jimmy had bought a woman for sex. She couldn’t lose sight of the cold-bloodedness of the transaction. Even if she did feel attracted to the man. She pushed the reality aside.

“We talked about books at lunch,” Aggie commented. “He said he was a collector.”

“You didn’t warn me. I could have said something when I walked into the library. Oh, well.”

Angela seemed remarkably light-hearted this morning. And why shouldn’t she be. She was going to get a hundred twenty thousand dollars for sleeping peacefully for eleven nights. Aggie felt a rumble of panic.

“If he wants to do anything I don’t like, you’re going back,” she warned.

“He won’t,” Angela smiled. After all, Aggie mused cynically, it wasn’t her problem now. Her sister continued. “You were right. He’s sweet.”

Aggie drifted again into a wanton fantasy.

At that moment a few hundred yards away, the man of her dreams didn’t sound sweet to his lawyer.

“She’s a fraud!” he thundered.

Jimmy’s hard-on hadn’t gone down since he woke up alone in his bed. Frustration pounded in his cock and the rhythm thundered through his head. He could read both sympathy and I-told-you-so in Richard’s eyes. He dared him wordlessly to speak. The lawyer sat blandly still.

“Something happened between lunch and six o’clock.” Jimmy’s voice was calmer. “I want you to find out what.”

“How?” Richard asked.

It was a reasonable question, Jimmy admitted to himself. How could anyone understand what went on in a woman’s mind? Especially a breathtaking taller-than-he-was nymph with gray eyes who somehow talked him out of a night of incredible sex. Jimmy breathed deeply to calm himself down. He only half succeeded.

“Hire a detective,” he blustered. “Nose around the Vancouver Hotel. See if she got any messages, made phone calls, met anyone.”

“She’s noticeable,” Richard agreed. “Someone may remember seeing something.”

“She’s a tall auburn-haired witch, that’s what she is,” Jimmy complained. “She bewitched me at lunch.”

“Then by evening, the spell had worn off,” commented the lawyer.

“Yes,” Jimmy growled. “I’d swear it wasn’t the same woman. She looked the same, talked the same, even laughed the same. Something must have happened.”

“I’ll try to find out,” Richard agreed.

Five hours later the two men met back in Jimmy’s office.

“What do you know?” Jimmy grumbled. Though his erection had finally subsided, his mood had not improved with the passing hours.

“She’s keeping a low profile,” Richard began. “One of the desk men remembers her signing in on Saturday. He saw her again in the lobby last night at about 5:45. He doesn’t think she was in the lobby any other time when he was on duty. He assured the detective he would have noticed her. I think he was keeping a watch; he seemed attracted to her.”

Jimmy muttered deep in his throat.

“What?” Richard asked.

“Keep going.”

“No messages in or out,” Richard continued. “No phone calls. She’s elusive.”

“What did he get from the chambermaids?”

“I didn’t think of that,” Richard admitted. “I’ll send him back.”

“What about taxi drivers?”

“You are serious about all this, right?” the lawyer queried. “I’ll have to hire another man to check the cab companies.”

“Do it,” Jimmy ordered. “And I want a tail on her starting right now. Put somebody in the lobby of the Vancouver Hotel. Have them wait outside while she’s here and then follow her back, see if she goes anywhere else, sees anyone.”

“Uh, Jimmy,” the lawyer hesitated.

“Spit it out.”

“What if she is on the level and she finds out about all this cloak and dagger?”

“Yeah?”

“She could be angry,” Richard warned.

Jimmy thought of the fire in Aggie’s eyes at lunch and the coolness last night.

“I don’t care,” he told the lawyer with a grin. “I like her when she’s angry.”

“We’re getting close to invasion of privacy,” Richard persisted.

“Don’t do anything illegal,” Jimmy clarified. “Just skirt the line. If she finds out, she can pretend she was a celebrity for awhile, stalked by paparazzi.”

“I doubt she’ll see it that way.” Richard’s tone was dryly amused.

“Step it up,” Jimmy glared. “Trace her credit cards. Send someone to Cincinnati. Talk to acquaintances. Maybe she faked the identity and she’s afraid she can’t keep up the charade.”

“I’ll try,” Richard finally agreed.

“You’re not going to be able to find out much by tonight,” Jimmy mused. “I don’t want to see her again until I have more information. If she’s lying, I’ll catch the witch at it and then all bets are off. She’ll do what I want or the contract’s void.”

Richard seemed dazed by his employer’s blazing intensity.

“What are you looking at?” Jimmy muttered.

“Nothing,” Richard shook his head as though trying to clear his vision. “Shall I leave a message at the hotel that tonight’s off?”

“No,” Jimmy decided. “You see her tonight.”

Richard held up his hands.

“Jimmy,” he protested, “I don’t mind being your three hundred dollar an hour gopher and calling a few detectives, but I’m not screwing anybody for you.”

Jimmy’s belly laugh erupted. The sound rolled around the office and carried with it the worst of Jimmy’s tension. He certainly didn’t want Richard to have sex with Aggie. The image was revolting. He wanted her all to himself, he realized. If she was troubled, he would fix her problems. He just had to find out what they were. He wanted the lunch-time Aggie back and in his bed.

“I don’t want you to screw her,” he said as he wiped his eyes, his laughter an echo in the room. “Just interrogate her. Like in a courtroom. Set up a hidden camera and I’ll watch the tape later.”

“Jimmy,” Richard sounded embarrassed. “You know I’ve never been in a courtroom.”

“You’ve seen Perry Mason. Pace back and forth and ask a lot of questions. We’ll think up some questions before she gets here.”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“She sucks me in,” Jimmy admitted. Look what a sucker he’d been last night. Ten thousand dollars and all they did was sleep together, literally. “Intimidate the hell out of her, Richard, and get some straight answers.”

“I don’t think she likes me, “ Richard admitted.

“All the better,” Jimmy growled.

As Richard left the office, Jimmy swiveled his chair toward the window and put his hands behind his head. He was blind for once to the panoramic view of ocean and park and distant islands. He wondered for an instant whether any woman was worth all this effort. Then he pictured the glimpse he had caught of Aggie outside the restaurant on Danny’s arm. He remembered the surge of emotion he’d felt when he learned she wasn’t attached to his brother, the pure elation of realizing she had answered his ad, could be his for twelve nights. Eleven more nights, he thought. Ten, because tonight she would be with Richard. Once he had found out why she had changed, once he had unraveled the mystery of his complicated librarian, he was going to enjoy the best ten nights of his life.

Chapter 14

Richard waited stoically in the lobby. He was a lawyer, he reminded himself for the tenth time. All he needed to do was ask the woman some questions, an extension of their earlier interview. The fact that Jimmy had chosen her after his rejection made the situation awkward, but he was still the lawyer and she was still the woman selling herself. The difficulties of the previous night must to some extend vindicate his objections. He could guess what had happened, or more accurately, what hadn’t happened, last night. He had rarely seen Jimmy so testy. He must have been frustrated to an extreme, the kind of frustration only a beautiful but elusive woman could induce in a strong willed man.

Richard was determined to reveal Aggie Trout as a fraud. He had dozens of technical questions ready to trip her up. But if she wasn’t a phony, as he had half come to believe, he would try to persuade her to cooperate and treat his employer to the best nights she could give him. He wasn’t really pimping, he assured himself as he adjusted his necktie. He was protecting his client in an unusual situation.

The cab pulled to the curb and Aggie emerged. She looked eagerly through the lobby windows. She didn’t look cool, as Jimmy had described her. She looked hot, in every sense of the word. Her outfit sizzled, Richard smiled to himself at the unfamiliar word that had popped into his head. But she did sizzle. A full patterned skirt draped her hips and legs to mid-calf and swirled with her every movement. Her coat was open in front and revealed a sheer black blouse with a richly embroidered vest for modesty. She looked like a princess in a Hungarian movie, or maybe a gypsy.

Richard opened the door of the lobby. As he did, he saw recognition in Aggie’s eyes, and dismay.

“Where’s Jimmy?” she asked. She held onto the open door of the cab.

“He asked me to ask you a few questions,” Richard responded calmly. He didn’t want her to bolt back into the cab.

“Is he upstairs?”

“Yes.” The answer was the truth. Jimmy waited in his apartment for Richard’s report and the video. “Come inside.”

Though it wasn’t raining, the evening was damp and cool. Richard was surprised to feel a platonic need to get Aggie out of the chill. He took a step toward her, holding out his hand. Perhaps she sensed his concern, for she shut the door of the taxi and walked toward him. She ignored his hand and walked past him into the lobby.

Aggie’s eyebrows spoke for her when Richard pushed the button for the office floor. She remained silent as they entered the deserted lobby and walked down the hall to Jimmy’s office. Richard helped her off with her coat and placed it on a sofa. She walked to a chair in front of the desk and sat down.

“I’m not going to see Jimmy tonight, am I?” she asked bluntly.

She sounded disappointed, Richard noticed. He wondered if the emotion would register on film.

“He was not happy with last night’s…” he searched for a word.

“Non-performance?” Aggie supplied. “I told him I’d be ready tonight and I am.”

Richard groaned internally. Though he was convinced she was lying about something, she sounded genuinely eager to see his employer. He wondered what had been Jimmy’s problem last night. She talked and looked as if she couldn’t wait to hop into bed with him. He returned to the agenda and picked up a sheaf of papers.

“I need to ask you some questions.”

Aggie looked at the pile of papers and sighed.

“Go ahead.”

“What street do you live on in Cincinnati?”

“Beechmont.”

“Is that ‘ee’ or ‘ea’?

“It’s ‘ee’. What on earth is this about? I’m really Aggie Trout. I really am a librarian in Cincinnati.”

“Please be patient, Miss Trout. Does Beechmont run north-south or east-west?

“If you looked on a map, you won’t get this one right,” she commented. “Right where I live it runs to the northwest, but most of it is east-west. It wanders.”

“What cross street is near your home?” Richard persisted, though he was one hundred percent certain she was telling the truth.

“The closest major street is Hunley Road. Look, I resent this. I agreed to twelve nights of sex with a man I basically like, not twenty questions with a man who frankly…” she stopped.

“You don’t like,” Richard completed her sentence. “Jimmy asked me to question you. This was not my idea. He helped make up the list of questions.”

If he had hoped to mollify her, he hadn’t succeeded.

“Look, Mr. Urbano,” Aggie flared.

“Calm down,” Richard interrupted.

“I’m about this close,” she continued as she stood and pinched her thumb and index finger together, “to calling off the whole contract.”

Suddenly the path cleared in front of Richard. He played his hunch.

“I’ll tell you what the problem is, Aggie,” he had decided to tell her the straight truth. “Jimmy said you were a different person last night. He was attracted to you at lunch. He thought you were in his words, ‘hot’. Then last night he thought you were, again in his words, ‘cool’. So what’s going on, are you two people, or did something happen between three and six o’clock last night?”

Aggie sat back abruptly in her chair. She sagged down, deflating like a spent balloon.

“Tell me what’s going on, Aggie.” Richard tried to make his voice as friendly and persuasive as he could.

“I can’t,” she defied him.

“Why not?” He stood and leaned both fist on the desk; time for the tough cop.

“I can’t tell you,” Aggie repeated.

“Do you want to call off the contract?” Richard asked, his voice harsh.

“No.” Aggie’s eyes were moist though no tears escaped. “Look, Mr. Urbano. Something did happen yesterday, but I can’t tell you what. I’m ready to see Jimmy tonight. We’ll do whatever he wants.”

“He doesn’t want to see you,” Richard began. A tear spilled out of Aggie’s eye. He remembered that this woman was Jimmy’s inexplicable choice. His voice softened. “He said you bewitched him at lunch yesterday.”

Richard was rewarded with a small smile that tugged up the corner of Aggie’s mouth.

“You don’t like me, do you?” Aggie asked.

“Actually,” Richard admitted, “I do. But you’re lying about something. Jimmy wants me to ask you these questions, to be sure you really are who you say, that you’re on the level.”

“Does he want to end the contract?” Aggie asked.

“No,” Richard smiled. “I think he wants the lunch time Aggie back.”

“I’m here.”

“Then can I ask you these questions?”

“Go ahead.”

Women, any women, but most particularly this woman, baffled Richard. He was troubled by the diminished Aggie that sat across the desk from him. He agreed with Jimmy; he liked her better fiery and arguing. Still, Jimmy would see the transformation on the videotape. Maybe it would help him understand her. He asked the rest of his questions about Cincinnati and Aggie answered in a monotone. She didn’t know everything about the city, but that would have been suspicious too. She admitted readily to the information she didn’t know, like any honest person.

Richard started in then on the details of running a library. Jimmy had suggested that he talk to someone at the Vancouver Public Library, and he had.

“The primary system used in Canada isn’t the same as the main one used in the United States,” Aggie offered after the first question. “I studied the Canadian system briefly in a college course once, but I don’t remember much.”

The fact that she had recognized his ignorance of the national differences from his first question impressed Richard. More and more, he was convinced she was telling the truth, at least about her identity. She was from Cincinnati and she was a librarian. Maybe her personal life held a clue to the mystery of her identity.

“Where did you grow up, Aggie?”

She seemed startled and possibly upset by the question. Could she have had a difficult childhood? Was that the source of her seeming dual personalities?

“In Auburn, Alabama.”

The answer came reluctantly.

“I’ve never been to Alabama,” Richard offered, trying to warm her up. “Tell me about it.”

“Auburn is pretty. It’s a university town.”

“Auburn University,” Richard nodded. “A good school.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Everyone thought I was crazy to move to Cincinnati.”

“Why did you?”

Aggie’s hesitation was visible. Was there a rape or a teenage pregnancy in her past?

“I wanted to get away,” she admitted.

“From what?” Richard probed.

“From my father.” The admission came from between tight lips. “He drinks.”

Richard blanched. Her words bound him in instant sympathy. He carried his own alcohol-induced wounds. Still, this was information that might help Jimmy.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized inadequately. He turned to a more neutral topic. “What made you decide to become a librarian?”

“I love books,” Aggie answered simply. Richard nodded and she continued. “I love the feel of them and the smell of them and the look of them. Most of all, I love the contents. The written word is the best guarantee of freedom, Mr. Urbano.”

Passion shone is Aggie’s voice and the lawyer felt her bewitching spell.

“Richard,” he reminded her absently.

“Ever since I was a child,” she continued, “I’ve loved books more than anything. My mother used to laugh when I made my Christmas list because all that was on it were book titles.”

“Do your parents still live in Auburn?”

“My mother died.” Aggie’s face stilled.

“Jimmy has a lot of books,” Richard commented, hoping to return her to her precious enthusiasm. His comment worked.

“I know,” Aggie’s eyes lit up. “His library is wonderful. He has a great book on Modigliani.”

“You like art?” Richard’s interest piqued. Where Jimmy was a book lover, his own taste ran to paintings.

“Of course, who doesn’t?”

The commonplace answer didn’t convey boundless enthusiasm. Like Jimmy, Aggie obviously preferred books.

“I’d like to see Jimmy now,” Aggie interrupted his thoughts politely.

“He doesn’t want to see you tonight.” Richard spread his hands apologetically. He didn’t understand what Jimmy’s problem was. Richard didn’t feel bewitched. He was sure Aggie was on the level. He would try to persuade Jimmy to proceed with the contract. Despite all the odds to the contrary, he sensed that Aggie and Jimmy were a good match. Then Aggie blew up.

She stood up calmly enough, then she smashed her fist down on the desktop.

“You can tell your fucking Mr. Jimmy Buko just where he can put his fucking cock!”

Her angry voice bellowed rather than screamed and was more effective for its low timbre. Richard’s mind flashed to Jimmy. He had heard him rant similarly, though without the profanity, only that morning. He smiled. His expression must have annoyed Aggie.

“What are you smirking at, you pimping whoreson lawyer?”

“Whoreson?” Richard echoed, puzzled.

“It’s Elizabethan,” Aggie stated calmly, then began to giggle. “Sorry.”

Her giggles threatened to become hysteria.

“The Elizabethans knew how to swear,” she gasped.

Richard handed her a tissue.

“Thanks.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I’m sorry I blew up. I have a hot temper.”

Richard puffed out a breath and shook his fingers in the familiar gesture. “Whew!”

“Yeah,” Aggie admitted. “Don’t tell Jimmy, okay?”

Richard considered admitting to the videotape, then decided that discretion was the better route. Let Jimmy deal with the hot temper, not him.

“I’ll call you a cab,” Richard offered.

“He really doesn’t want to see me tonight?” Aggie asked. “After I got all dressed up?”

Richard shook his head. His instructions had been explicit. Ask her the questions and put her in a cab. And arrange for a tail. Minutes after he escorted Aggie down the elevator and into the waiting cab, he was upstairs at the entrance to Jimmy’s private suite. The two men watched the beginning of the videotape in silence. The camera picked up their entrance into the office and Richard helping Aggie out of her coat. When he saw her outfit, Jimmy groaned.

“We ate Hungarian food last night,” he explained. “She must have bought the clothes today.”

“She looked very nice,” Richard commented.

Jimmy groaned again. He watched for several minutes in silence, though his body language spoke for him. He fidgeted in his chair, dropped his head into his hand then looked quickly up. Richard saw all the signs of a man in torment, a man bewitched. When Richard told her on the tape that Jimmy didn’t want to see her and the tear escaped from Aggie’s eye, Jimmy leapt to his feet.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“I sent her back to the hotel,” Richard admitted.

“You imbecile!” Jimmy shouted. “You fucking imbecile!”

Though his employer was in a towering rage, Richard had to laugh. The resemblance between the two blazing tempers was too much. If these two ever got together, they would ignite an inferno.

“What’s so funny?” Jimmy demanded.

“She called me a whoreson,” Richard chuckled.

“Elizabethan,” Jimmy commented his temper fading.

“Miss Trout, Aggie, has a hot temper too, Jimmy,” Richard chuckled. “Watch the rest of the tape.”

Jimmy paced the room, though his eyes never left the tape as it continued to the end of the interview. When Aggie lost her temper for the second time, he pounded Richard on the back.

“Isn’t she something?” he exclaimed. “Get her on the phone at the hotel. I’ll ask her to come back. Danny put her in the Queen Anne suite.”

Richard had his reservations. She had been pretty angry, though her fury had blown away as quickly as it had arisen. Still, this holocaust was between Jimmy and Aggie. Let them fight it out. He dialed the number of the Vancouver Hotel, ready to hand the phone to Jimmy as soon as she answered. He asked for the Queen Anne suite. The phone rang once, twice, ten times. At last the hotel operator clicked back in.

“I’m sorry, sir. No one is answering at that number. Would you like me to leave a message?”

Richard thought quickly.

“Is the suite still registered to Miss Trout,” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the operator confirmed. “Miss A. Trout.”

Richard covered the mouthpiece with his hand.

“Do you want to leave a message?”

“No,” Jimmy growled.

Richard thanked the operator and hung up the phone.

“Hire more detectives,” Jimmy continued, more thoughtful now than angry. “By tomorrow night, I want to know everything. What clubs she joined in high school, who her roommates were in college, what brand of toothpaste she uses. Everything.”

Richard hung up the phone. He considered arguing with his employer, then shrugged his shoulders. Jimmy’s ears might listen, but his penis was making the decisions.

Chapter 15

At 6:05 the following evening, Jimmy waited in the lobby of the apartment building. He waited hopefully though as far as he could tell, Aggie had disappeared into the Vancouver fog. She hadn’t left for their rendezvous from the Vancouver Hotel the evening before, so the tail had never picked her up. Consequently, he hadn’t been there to follow her when she left after meeting with Richard. The chambermaid had revealed that the bed in the suite had never been slept in.

A cab pulled up to the front of the building and Jimmy waited for the occupant to alight. His anger exploded when Aggie stepped out, looking as cool and possessed as if she hadn’t just vanished from the earth for almost twenty-four hours.

“Aggie!” Jimmy raced out of the hotel and pulled the young temptress into a hug. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Been?” she responded, pulling back to look him in the face. “Nowhere. At the hotel.”

“I know you’re not staying at the Vancouver Hotel.”

Jimmy expected contrition, maybe tears. Instead he heard a cool laugh.

“Is that what the fuss is? I moved to another hotel.”

“Why?”

“Jimmy,” her voice was sexy and insinuating, “when I got here, I didn’t know who you were. I was answering a newspaper ad. I’m cautious. I moved to another hotel.”

“What hotel?” Jimmy demanded.

“I don’t think I ought to tell you,” she stated simply as she stepped back out of his arms.

“Why not?”

“You have my nights, Jimmy,” she reminded him. “That’s all you bought.”

“What are you hiding, Aggie?”

“Nothing,” she insisted.

She turned toward the lobby door and Jimmy followed. Where had the tigress of the video disappeared to? This woman was a fox, beautiful but sly and dangerous. Jimmy’s patience ran out. He grabbed the woman by the elbow and dragged her down the hall to the elevator, determined to aggravate her, maybe scare her, anything to provoke the real Aggie into appearing. Though rigid, she followed him without protest. When they entered the apartment, the woman, Jimmy could no longer think of her as Aggie, walked straight to the bedroom.

“You told Richard you weren’t satisfied the first night,” she told him as she walked into the room in front of him. “Tonight you will be.”

She stripped off her clothes in a teasing dance as Jimmy leaned against the door jam. Though her body was as gorgeous as ever, her legs as long, her bosom as firm, her face as enchanting, he was unmoved by the performance. At last she stood naked before him. When he didn’t react, she walked to the bed and sat on the edge. She patted the spot next to her.

“Join me,” she invited.

Jimmy remembered her words to Richard the first day. The one thing she didn’t like the idea of was discipline.

“I’m going to punish you,” he growled. He pulled off his belt.

Though she paled, she didn’t explode. He swung the belt at a chair; it cracked hard on the back and the fabric split.

“You promised not to hurt me,” she reminded him. She was as pale as the sheets, but still she didn’t crack.

“No blood,” he promised.

The woman nodded. Christ, she should be frightened out of her skin by now, a sobbing puddle on the floor. He’d pick her up and assure her that he’d never struck anyone in his life, that he would never hurt her. But she just sat, statue pale and still, waiting.

Jimmy sat beside her on the bed and pulled her down across his lap. Her bare bottom swelled in his lap but he felt no enticement. Why wasn’t she fighting him? For the first time it occurred to Jimmy that maybe she had a mental condition, a genuine split personality. He righted her and sat her on his lap.

“Aggie,” he began.

A tear slipped down her cheek and he reached up a finger to wipe it away. Before he could touch her face, she slapped him hard across the cheek. When Jimmy regained his senses, the woman was prostrate across his lap and his hand was raised above her flaming red bottom. His hand descended of its own lingering will though the blow wasn’t hard.

“Keep going,” she urged.

She liked it? Jimmy lay back on the bed and put his hands over his face. What had he done? What had she provoked him into doing? He felt her weight lift off his legs and settle on the bed next to him. Her hand found his crotch. She lowered the zipper and freed his limp cock.

“Don’t you like discipline?” she asked, her voice teasing. “I thought you wanted to spank me.”

“No,” Jimmy admitted. “I wanted to make you angry, afraid.”

“You made me very horny,” she purred.

She lowered her head toward his cock.

“Don’t,” he protested and pushed her head away.

“You don’t like oral sex either?” she asked.

Of course he liked oral sex, Jimmy thought. He was just confused. Too confused to think.

“Do you want me to masturbate for you?”

The voice reached him from a distance. What the heck.

“Sure,” he agreed.

The woman lay back on the bed beside him and spread her legs.

“You can look,” she invited.

Where was Aggie?

Jimmy turned his head and watched as the woman put her hand between her legs. He should be aroused, incredibly aroused. He loved to watch his weekly lay pleasure herself, though he usually finished the job himself. The woman’s hand began to circle over Aggie’s crotch. His Aggie’s. God, he wanted her back. She wasn’t faking. Her arousal was wet and hot. She drew a moist fingerful to her lips, then offered the next to him. He shook his head.

Aggie’s nipples had peaked to hard buds and gooseflesh skimmed across her belly. Aggie’s free hand gripped the sheet as the fingers of her other hand drew her toward climax. But Aggie wasn’t here. The climax shook her to red painted toenails. She shivered for a long moment then turned to him.

“Let me make you come,” she offered.

Jimmy gave in to despair. Aggie wasn’t here. If this impostor wanted to jerk him off, let her. He lay back on the bed.

“Go ahead,” he said wearily. “Use your hand.”

He closed his eyes and thought about the real Aggie, the Aggie he wanted, the Aggie who was and wasn’t in his bed right now. He pictured her squeezing his cock as the unseen hand was. Her fingers twined in his pubic curls and tugged them teasingly. His cock lifted and he shifted his buttocks to a straighter angle.

“That’s better,” Aggie’s voice coaxed. Not Aggie’s voice.

“Don’t say anything,” he instructed.

As long as he kept his eyes closed. As long as she didn’t talk. He imagined Aggie’s angry laughing eyes. The fingers tightened on his cock and began to move, skillfully squeezing and stretching. It felt good. The pace quickened. He released himself into the moment. The first climax came quickly.

“Keep going,” he ordered, his eyes still closed.

“Was that…”

“Don’t talk,” he interrupted.

Anything to keep the illusion. He imagined himself poised over Aggie’s inviting body, her eyes smiling at him as he lowered himself into her. The hand kept pace with his growing arousal, squeezing and milking him with professional dexterity. Not his Aggie’s hand. She would be tentative. Too tight sometimes, then not tight enough. He shifted back to the image of himself lowering into Aggie’s body. He rocked his hips gently and again the hand on his cock adjusted smoothly. The second orgasm was stronger and lasted most of a minute.

“Again,” Jimmy gasped. “Is your hand too tired? Don’t say anything, just stop when you want to.”

The hand lifted and Jimmy sighed. His cock was still rock hard. Her weight shifted. Another hand settled on his well oiled shaft. She had switched to her left hand. The image of Aggie came easily to Jimmy now. He relived the videotape of her with Richard, trying to time his climax to her angry outburst.

“Harder,” he ordered the servicing hand.

He was almost there. The hand tightened obligingly and just as Aggie’s fist swung down to the desktop, Jimmy came. Her fist swung again and again as his fluids pumped out over his chest and the hand milked him hard. Finally he opened his eyes.

Tears poured from the not-Aggie’s eyes. They mingled with the cum on his chest and he wondered how long she had been crying. The woman rose and picked up her clothes. He thought about protesting, but was too exhausted. The ordeal of the day’s waiting combined with the release of three orgasms had drained him. She went into the adjoining bathroom and a moment later he heard the shower. He had shot his cum all over her, he remembered. What if she really was Aggie, he thought. Would she mind?

By the time she came out of the bathroom, Jimmy was awake. His head had cleared. He knew he had to break this enigma tonight. She might not come back. Not after he had spanked her. Maybe not now that she knew he could come three times without a pause. He knew he was too much for most women, for any woman.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” he apologized to the woman who wore Aggie’s skin.

“It’s all right,” she smiled shyly.

With her hair towel dried and no makeup, she looked achingly young and vulnerable. She looked just like Aggie.

“Aggie,” he whispered softly.

“Yes,” the woman answered.

He held out his arms. She stepped into them and melted into his embrace, molding herself to his planes.

“Aggie?” he whispered into her hair.

She stepped back out of his arms, her eyes glistening.

“I’m going to go now, Jimmy.”

“Will you come back tomorrow night?”

“Yes.”

“Do you promise?” he asked, hating himself for begging.

“I promise.” She held three fingers over her heart and grinned and for a moment she was Aggie, the real Aggie.

After even the fragrance of her had dissipated, Jimmy left the bedroom. He walked to the living room and turned on the VCR. He fell asleep moments later as his Aggie pounded her fist on his desk.

Chapter 16

Angela told the taxi driver to go anywhere for thirty minutes, then to take her back to the corner of Robson and Denman. As they wound through the blustery rain soaked streets of Vancouver, her tears slowly gave way to determination. Jimmy was a man in torment. Her sister was unhappy and confused. Angela’s deception had done far more harm than she had ever envisioned. She knew she would not be able to last nine more nights. The hundred twenty thousand dollars was out of her reach.

Still, she deserved compensation. The contract was all or nothing. Twelve nights or no money. Angela knew she had earned payment and she saw in her mind’s eye what she felt would be a just recompense. She had to get back into the apartment one more time. Angela kicked herself mentally for her failure to seize tonight’s opportunity. Jimmy had been asleep. She could easily have lifted the small Giacometti statue that sat almost hidden in a niche in the library. But her eyes had been blinded by tears and her brain by remorse. No more. She would take the statue the next time she was in the apartment and then she and her sister would leave Vancouver forever.

All traces of Angela’s tears had dried by the time she walked through the door of the hotel suite. She greeted her surprised sister calmly.

Aggie looked at her watch. “It’s only ten o’clock.”

“He let me leave early.”

“Did something go wrong?”

“He just wanted me to jerk him off,” Angela told Aggie bluntly.

Her sister winced.

“He’s got balls of steel,” Angela added. “He came three times without deflating. A regular he-man.”

Aggie stood up from the sofa, her face pale, and walked out of the room. Angela followed her to the bathroom and stood in the door as Aggie splashed cold water on her face.

“He’s really confused,” Angela tried to explain. “I think he likes you a lot. He knows somehow that I’m not you.”

Aggie scrubbed her face in a towel.

“I think he thinks I’m crazy,” Angela continued. “A split personality. I swear sometimes tonight I thought he was trying to get me to turn into you.”

Aggie walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Angela followed her twin again. Why didn’t she say something?

“You should go tomorrow night,” Angela tried again to get a response.

“We’ve been through that. I’m not going.”

Angela wrapped her arms around the stiff torso of her twin. She toppled them both onto the bed and hugged her until her limbs softened. She shifted their bodies so Aggie’s head rested on her shoulder.

“Oh, Boo,” she sighed. “I think I’ve made a big mess.”

Aggie nodded into her shoulder.

“What should I do?”

“We should both get on the first plane out tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I promised Jimmy I’d come back tomorrow night.”

Aggie lifted her head and looked at Angela.

“After all you’ve, we’ve done, you feel bound by a simple promise?”

“He’s hurting, Aggie. Besides, if we leave now, we walk out with nothing.”

“Nothing but a little self-respect.”

“Mine’s not real high anyway, Boo. I need to stay and fix things if I can.”

Angela pulled her sister’s head back onto her shoulder so she wouldn’t have to look into her eyes. She did want to fix things somehow. She also wanted the Giacometti.

The next morning Angela awakened fully dressed, her sister’s head still resting on her shoulder. Someone was pounding on the door to the suite.

“Aggie,” she shook her twin. “Wake up.”

“Wha…?”

“There’s someone at the door.” Angela shook her again. “You have to wake up.”

“Why would anyone knock on our door?” Aggie asked as she sat up and stretched.

“Maybe Jimmy found us.”

“Oh, God.”

“I’m going to go answer the door.”

“We’ll go together.”

“No,” Angela contrived. “You wait in here, in case it’s Jimmy or the lawyer.”

She smoothed her hair back from sleep encrusted eyes and walked down the hall. When she opened the door, she was momentarily speechless.

“Hi, Blossom,” her father greeted her. Mary smiled nervously behind his shoulder. “You are Blossom, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m Angela,” she agreed and walked into her father’s embrace. “What on earth are you doing here? How did you find us?”

“I called him last Saturday.” Aggie’s voice drifted down the hall from the bedroom door. “Hi, Dad.”

Angela’s father released her and walked to his other daughter.

“Peach Fuzz.” He pulled her into his arms.

“Hi, Mary,” Angela greeted her father’s friend. “Come in out of the hall.”

She noted the older woman’s hesitation and reached out to pull her in. The grab turned into an tentative hug that quickly melted into a genuine embrace.

“It’s good to see you, Angela,” Mary said softly. “I warned your father not to come by so early.”

“Like trying to stop a steam engine,” Angela laughed. “Where are you staying?”

“Right down the hall. We have a lovely suite with a view of the water.”

By now, the four had moved into the living room and stood awkwardly silent.

“Sit down,” Angela motioned. “I’ll put on some coffee.”

Her comment broke the tension and the three sat, their Dad and Mary on the sofa and Aggie in an armchair. When Angela came back from the kitchen, she dropped into the other armchair and spoke.

“What are you doing in Vancouver, Dad?” she asked then appended, “and Mary.”

“You two are on my twelve steps,” their father explained.

The import of his words reached Angela slowly. Her twin caught on faster and jumped from her chair to her father’s arms.

“Twelve steps?” Angela echoed.

“He’s joined AA,” her sister explained.

Angela sat rooted to her chair though tears misted her eyes. She looked at Mary, who nodded.

“Wow,” Angela sighed.

Her father lifted Aggie from his lap and sat her back down in the armchair. He stood looking nervous and yet dignified in the center of the room.

“I have to apologize to you two,” he began.

“You don’t have to,” Aggie protested.

“Yes, I do.” He held up his hand to stop further argument. “I haven’t always been a good father, especially since your mother died. I know you’ve both been worried about me for a long time.”

“We’ve been worried, Dad,” Angela admitted. “But you are a good father. Aggie and I always knew you loved us.”

“I could have done a lot more,” he insisted.

“Dad,” Aggie interrupted, this time successfully. “Do you have a certain number of sentences you have to get out to make it to the next step?”

Her teasing worked. Their father chuckled and sat down.

“No,” he admitted. “But you know me.”

“A steam engine,” the three women chorused.

“I have some more news,” he announced. “Mary and I are married.”

Angela jumped up and hugged first her father and then Mary.

“That’s great news, you guys!”

Aggie followed her sister into their embrace.

“I just wish you’d waited so we could be there,” she protested.

“I wasn’t sure you approved,” Mary commented, her eyes intent on Angela’s.

“I’ve grown up a little,” Angela explained. “I’m sorry if I was a brat before.”

“You were a young woman who had just lost her mother, Angela,” Mary smiled. “I never blamed you for resenting me.”

“Well, I don’t now.”

“Let’s all go out for breakfast,” her father offered. “I’ll take my three women to that fancy place downtown, the Vancouver Hotel.”

Angela looked at Aggie. They couldn’t possibly go out for breakfast together, especially not to the Vancouver Hotel.

“I have a headache, Dad,” Aggie said. “I’m going to take a aspirin and lie down for awhile. You and Angela and Mary go ahead.”

It was a solution, if not perfect. Their father and Mary’s arrival intensified an already complicated situation. Angela thought about the coming evening. How on earth could she pull it off? Leave the hotel at 5:30, have sex or whatever with Jimmy, steal the statue, get back to the hotel and leave town. All without tipping off her observant parent that anything was going on. Well, she would go enjoy breakfast somewhere other than the Vancouver Hotel. She would figure out a way to make it all work later.

In the end, the evening began more easily than she had expected. She had spent the morning and early afternoon with her father and Mary, then Aggie had taken over for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Angela had explained that she had a dinner date and they had accepted the explanation without comment. She was the flirty twin, after all. Her going on a date was hardly a shock.

She dressed carefully for the evening in black stirrup pants, a black cashmere sweater, flat shoes and a large black leather shoulder bag. If she succeeded in getting the Giacometti, she wanted to be able to fade into the darkness of the waterfront, just in case. She checked herself one last time in the mirror and decided this was a good look for her, arty and a bit European. She smiled at her reflection. Maybe she could pull it all off after all.

When she arrived at the apartment building, Jimmy wasn’t in the lobby. She almost brushed by the strange man who stood silently by the window but she recognized him at the last moment from Aggie’s description. Mr. Urbano. The lawyer. She turned and held out her hand with a smile.

“Mr. Urbano.”

His hand wrapped around hers in a grip that was almost a caress. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt each individual finger press into her giving flesh.

“Where’s Jimmy?” The words emerged softly, the impetus stolen by their still joined hands.

“He asked me to meet you tonight,” the man explained. “Please call me Richard.”

He looked as awestruck as she felt.

“I don’t understand.” Angela finally withdrew her hand from the lawyer’s grasp.

“He’s still suspicious,” he explained.

Angela tried to remember the details Aggie had told her of her two meetings with the lawyer.

“I thought I convinced you two nights ago.”

“You did. Both of us. But Jimmy thought you were different again last night.”

“Oh.” Angela didn’t know what to do or say so she shrugged. “Well, here I am.”

“Shall we go upstairs?”

“Sure,” Angela agreed. Maybe it would be easier to steal the statue without Jimmy there. At least she wouldn’t end up in bed with the lawyer. Aggie had said he was all business.

As they went up in the elevator, Angela studied Richard’s reflection in the mirrored wall. He was Jimmy’s opposite in almost every way. Where Jimmy was shorter than she, Richard topped her by half a head at least. He must be six foot two or three. His face was lean, not fleshy, his neatly groomed hair was brown with distinguishing gray wings. He had warm blue eyes and a small scar in his left eyebrow. The tiny flaw somehow made the overall features perfect. He was one of the most appealing men she had ever met. She wondered briefly why Aggie hadn’t liked him.

Angela had been too enthralled to watch which button Richard pushed, and she was surprised when he ushered her into an unfamiliar office lobby. She almost asked where they were, but remembered that Aggie must have come here for the interviews. She started to take off her coat and Richard moved to help her. A sentence from downstairs snapped into her brain and she stopped in her tracks.

“You said both of you,” she looked up at Richard, almost in his arms as the coat entangled them both. “You said both of you were convinced, but Jimmy wasn’t there.”

Richard finished helping her out of her coat and laid it across his arm.

“I videotaped us,” he admitted.

Angela saw red. As usual, anger made her icy calm.

“That was inexcusable.”

“It worked.” Richard spread his hands. “The tape convinced Jimmy to continue the contract. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“What else have you videotaped?”

Richard reared back as though she had slapped him.

“Nothing!” he exclaimed. His eyes narrowed and turned suspicious. “You’re cold tonight. I see now what Jimmy means. There are two of you.”

“I’m only one person,” Angela lied. “I’m just more in control tonight. Don’t ever videotape me again.”

“Would you like a drink?” Richard asked.

The abrupt change of subject startled Angela back into awareness of her purpose tonight. She wanted the Giacometti. She had earned it.

“Is Jimmy upstairs?” she asked.

Richard nodded. So much for sneaking into the apartment tonight. She would weather the evening and come back tomorrow to steal the statue. It was only night four of twelve. There were still lots of chances. Besides, Richard was a handsome companion, probably charming when he wasn’t busy being a lawyer.

“I’ll take that drink you offered,” she smiled.

If he was confused by her abrupt about-face, he didn’t show it. He escorted her into a large office with a treed terrace outside the window. It didn’t look like Aggie’s description of Jimmy’s office and Angela hazarded a careful comment.

“Nice.”

“It’s my office,” Richard obligingly clarified. “We were in Jimmy’s before.”

Angela nodded as the lawyer handed her a glass.

“I hope Scotch is okay. It’s all I have in my office.”

“Scotch is fine.” In fact, it was Angela’s drink of choice. She took a sip. The blend was a smooth whisper with a bite in the tail. Glenfiddich?

Richard motioned her to a chair then sat opposite, not behind a desk but just across, knees almost touching. The proximity without contact ignited the scotch in Angela’s belly. He was an amazingly handsome man.

Angela noticed Richard’s empty hands. “You’re not drinking?”

“Not tonight. How have you and Jimmy gotten into such a mess?” he asked. The change of subject was smooth, his voice no more than mildly curious.

Angela shrugged and took another sip of scotch. At the moment, Jimmy was far from her thoughts.

“He’s crazy about you, you know.”

Angela frowned. Jimmy was crazy about Aggie, not her.

“What?” Richard probed.

“Nothing.” Angela swallowed the rest of the drink. She put down the glass and walked to the window. “Can we go outside?”

“It’s chilly.”

“Another scotch will keep me warm.”

Richard took the hint and poured her another drink. He brought the glass and her coat. She shrugged into the jacket then took the scotch. He opened the glass door and led her outside. The view to the mountains was stunning. The office was on the opposite side of the building from the seashore and looked out over the tops of other buildings past a vast expanse of dark forest toward a lighted slope.

“Skiing?” Angela asked. She walked to the railing and Richard followed.

“Grouse Mountain,” he explained.

“It looks like the Rainier R,” Angela commented. The lighted slope was shaped almost exactly like the beer symbol.

“I’ve always thought they should use it in an advertisement,” Richard agreed.

“Do you like me?” Angela turned to face him.

“Tonight?”

Angela nodded. Their faces were almost touching as they instinctively huddled for warmth in the chill breeze.

“Yes.” The word was almost a caress.

“Even though I’m cold?” Angela reminded him of his earlier comment. Her body edged closer to his.

“You weren’t cold the other night when you blew up,” Richard reminded her. “I’m not very hot-blooded myself. Jimmy is though.”

“You and I; Jimmy and Aggie,” Angela whispered under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she smiled. “It’s beautiful out here.”

Angela looked up into Richard’s eyes. She saw a confused attraction. He wanted her. He knew she wanted him. And he was thinking about Jimmy.

“I think I should go,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed heartily. “You should.”

They went back inside and Angela put her untouched drink on a side table. Richard called for a taxi.

“Thank you.” She held out her hand. Richard took it between both his and held on.

“For what?”

“For the drink and the view,” Angela smiled. “For being nice.”

Richard released her hand and walked in front of her to the elevator. They descended silently.

“Aggie,” Richard began as the elevator doors opened.

Angela touched his lips with one finger.

“Shh,” she whispered and kissed him on the cheek.

She smiled to herself as she climbed into the cab. Life was still complicated, but suddenly the view seemed a lot more beguiling.

The next morning dawned drizzly and gray and found Angela heaving over the toilet bowl. A sympathetic Mary consoled her that it was probably just a twenty-four hour flu. Angela didn’t care. Her optimism of the evening fled down the swirling drain with what she feared was the lining of her stomach. When her sister squeezed her shoulder in reassurance, she didn’t even get the message.

Chapter 17

Jimmy didn’t hold out much hope for the coming encounter. Richard had been right; putting an ad in the paper had been a stupid idea. Still, he waited in the lobby of the apartment building at six o’clock, feeling foolish but clinging to a shred of anticipation. The young woman who stepped from the cab looked as perfect as always. Jimmy had come to distrust the perfection and looked for even the least crack in the beautiful armor. He found none.

“Okay,” he greeted the smiling woman. “Come on upstairs.”

“Jimmy?” The voice was tentative. He stopped in the lobby and turned to face her. She began again. “Jimmy, I have an apology to make. I know you haven’t been happy with me, but tonight I want to make everything up to you.”

“All right,” Jimmy decided on the moment. If she wanted to prostitute herself, he wouldn’t stop her. The Aggie he wanted was a figment of his middle-aged imagination. Tonight he would settle for the look-alike. He turned back toward the elevator. “Tonight we’ll make up for lost time.”

When they arrived at the apartment, Jimmy was surprised when the woman walked straight into his library. By the time he caught up with her, she was running her hand along a row of seventeenth century leather bound books.

“Chaucer,” she intoned reverently.

He felt like that himself and smiled despite himself. She caught his eye and smiled back.

“I love your library. Do you have an original Samuel Johnson dictionary?”

“Yes,” he admitted, hope rising. She was beginning to sound like Aggie.

“I’ve been looking for one forever for my branch in Cincinnati. The closest I’ve found is an 1832 revised edition and I can’t afford even that.”

“You can buy a lot with a hundred twenty thousand dollars,” Jimmy reminded her.

She looked startled.

“I suppose I can,” she agreed. She turned with obvious reluctance from the books. She seemed to draw up courage with a deep breath. “But this isn’t what you’re paying me for, is it?”

Jimmy wanted to argue with her, to hold this fleeting glimpse of the woman he dreamed about here in the library where she might not try to escape. But she walked past him toward the bedroom as he stood rooted to the polished hardwood floor. One more test, he decided. The Aggie at lunch had told Richard she didn’t want to try discipline, while the one of the bedroom had seemed to enjoy it. He would see how the young woman entering his bedroom reacted to the threat of a spanking.

When Jimmy saw her standing mute beside his bed, he almost decided not to proceed, to instead woo her as a shy bride. But no, this woman had the hands of a pro.

“Take off your clothes,” he demanded, his voice harsher than he intended.

She jumped. Then she turned her back as she had the first night and began to remove her sweater and skirt. Her simple movements made no attempt to seduce him and Jimmy found himself bewitched all the more. When his fingers touched her back to unhook her bra, she stepped forward out of his reach and undid the fastening herself. Last, she slid her sheer silk panties to the floor. Jimmy wallowed in the sensuous curve of her hip, the delicate calves, even the arch of her slender neck. Still he didn’t touch her.

“Turn around,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

“I can’t,” she admitted. She tried to laugh. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t.”

She had given Jimmy the perfect opening.

“I’ll spank you for your disobedience.”

Her reaction was all he could have imagined and more. She whirled toward him and almost caught him off guard with her fist as he gazed at her perfect beauty. He caught her wrist at the last moment. Then she wrenched back out of his grasp.

“You touch me and you’ll never touch anyone again,” she blazed.

Jimmy backed up and held out his hands placatingly.

“You liked it the other night,” he reminded her.

“I pretended to. You won’t touch me again.”

She stood with balled fists hugging her hips and Jimmy’s eyes were drawn to the thick thatch of auburn curls that nestled between her legs.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed out on a sigh.

The fight drained out of her as swiftly as it had arisen. She was a tsunami, dreadful in its force but quickly spent. Jimmy waited cautiously for the backwash. She looked into his eyes and suddenly laughed.

“You got what you wanted, didn’t you,” she chuckled. “I turned around.”

They stared at each other.

“Well, are you just going to look, are you going to get naked and have some fun?”

Jimmy didn’t need a second invitation. By some miracle, the enchanting woman he had met with his brother had finally returned. She stood naked before him and challenged him to love her. Jimmy stripped off his clothes under her watchful eye. He wished he had kept up his jogging. Her body was incredible and his was… well, a lot less than perfect. Still, she didn’t seem to mind. Her eyes grew large when he stripped off his underwear. His cock swayed full and ready, but her eyes remained riveted to his prize possessions.

“Would you like to touch?” he teased.

She took him up on his offer and hefted his balls in her hand.

“Impressive,” she commented. “Let’s see what you can do with them.”

Somehow her suggestive humor felt real to Jimmy, not professional. He picked her up and dumped her on the bed.

“Be careful what you wish for, strumpet.”

“Hoist the galliard!” she rejoined.

“I think you mean the petard, wench. The galliard is a dance.”

“Whatever,” she agreed and opened her arms and legs.

Jimmy fell down between her open legs and lowered himself above her.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Try me,” she smiled.

Jimmy pulled back in dismay and the woman frowned. He had almost forgotten to use a condom. She smiled as he pulled a reef of rubbers from the bedside drawer. As she unrolled one down his ripe cock with eager seduction, Jimmy groaned. His frustration eased as he again lowered himself above her.

“No preliminaries?” he asked. He didn’t want to rush her.

“Let’s eat dessert first,” she suggested.

Her hand found his straining cock and guided it toward her opening. His entry was sure and swift down her slick slope. He moaned and moisture sheened his eyes as he slid deep home. He looked down and saw echoing tears in her eyes.

“Aggie,” he whispered.

She nodded as a lone teardrop drifted down her cheek. Jimmy kissed the salty spot where it landed and then closed his eyes and relaxed into her soft depths. His Aggie lifted her legs and wrapped them tightly around him. Her hands found his shoulders and gripped him hard. Jimmy began slowly, giving her time to adjust to his pace. Her hips rose and fell with his movement and soon her vagina squeezed once, tentatively.

“Yes,” Jimmy groaned.

Aggie squeezed again. They soon found a pace that suited both and he rode her like a beloved racehorse, coaxing her gently with his cock and then spurring her with hard deep thrusts. Soon she began to make noise, half moan, half croon. The lullaby urged Jimmy on and he rode her faster and harder. She matched his pounding and her crooning became a cry of first release and Jimmy felt her vagina tighten and pulse around him. He was beyond conscious effort to hold back and he pounded vigorously unheeding into her throbbing cavity. Miraculously she screamed out just as he came and his moan mingled with her cry and he felt their hearts entwine.

“You’re mine, Aggie,” he groaned into her ear. “Mine.”

“Yes,” she gasped.

Jimmy felt his cock begin to wilt. He expected to be disappointed but felt instead only blessed relief. This is what he had needed, this is what he had striven for again and again. This perfect joining of soul touching soul. He felt completed and the driving urge to mindlessly copulate over and over abated with his exhaled breath. He lay still atop her then shifted so that his weight eased off her slender frame.

“Don’t go yet,” she gasped. “I want to feel you inside me.”

Jimmy pulled her so that they lay on their sides, still joined. He smoothed back her damp hair and kissed her forehead. He didn’t need to ask if she had come, didn’t need to wonder whether she felt as incredible as he did. He knew. Finally his limp cock slipped out of her and they rolled apart. Her fingers found his and they lay back, side by side holding hands, replete.

Eventually she roused herself and slid from the bed. She eased the condom off his spent cock. A few moments later he heard the toilet flush and then the running water of a shower. Did he have the energy to join her? Jimmy pictured Aggie’s naked wet body under the hot spray and his cock raised its head. He had the energy. They washed and teased and fondled and aroused in the misty heat then returned still dripping to the bed.

“Will you let me eat you?” Jimmy asked.

“I’d love that,” Aggie admitted with no attempt at reluctance. “Do you want me to do you too?”

“Later,” Jimmy suggested. “Let’s concentrate on one thing at a time.”

He positioned her with her buttocks at the edge of the bed and knelt between her legs.

“Take a pillow,” she advised.

Jimmy grinned and grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed. Trust his Aggie to make sure he was comfortable. He resolved to bring her to so many orgasms she lost count. He lifted her feet to his shoulders. Her knees slid obligingly open and he kissed her soft still damp pubic curls.

“Natural,” she commented.

“Natural everything,” he murmured.

He lowered his head to her softness and parted the delicate lips with gentle fingers. His tongue found her little bud of desire and flicked it hard. She arched up into his mouth and immediately began the low crooning moaning noises of arousal.

“Tell me what you like,” he lifted his head and requested.

“I like it all, everything you do,” she responded. “Do everything.”

He did. He squeezed and nipped and flicked and prodded until Aggie writhed in prerelease beneath him. When her hips began to pump, he latched his mouth hard to her throbbing and beautiful cunt and stroked furiously with the tip of his tongue until she cried out and arched in a spasm of joy. He dipped his finger into the viscous pool of her coming and dragged the moisture up her labia to his eager lips. Bypassing the middleman he plunged his tongue deep inside her and sucked at the sticky sweet healthy outpouring of her juices. His tongue deep inside her brought her to a second orgasm and his cock rose rigid as the hot flood entered his mouth.

“Come inside me,” she begged but he wasn’t done yet.

Jimmy lifted his head inches above Aggie’s crotch and grasped her buttocks and squeezed hard. She arched up into his waiting mouth with a cry of surprise that quickly turned into a scream of coming as he bit and drove her now sensitive bud past agitation to fulfillment. As she came, Jimmy slid a finger along the crack in her bottom and pressed against the delicate opening to her anus. Though she arched up away from his hand she screamed “Yes!” and Jimmy slid his finger inside her. Her orgasms were near continuous now and her arms flopped like beached fish on the bed and her legs and torso trembled unceasingly.

Jimmy’s mouth clung to her flailing cunt with tenacious vigor. He sucked the juices that surged from her vagina again and again until the warm fluid began to fill him to unlooked for repletion. At last her arms lay limp on the bed and her feet no longer trembled on his shoulders but fell dangling toward the floor. Jimmy slid his finger from her backside as she murmured a weak protest. He laid his head on her exhausted crotch and inhaled the scent of her deep into his heart.

After a few moments, Jimmy rose and went to the bathroom. When he returned she had not moved a muscle. The only skin that twitched with his arrival was her smile.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted her.

“Hey, handsome,” she returned.

He gently wiped away the remaining stickiness of Aggie’s orgasms with a thick warm washcloth. She made no attempt to move, but let him adjust her as he would. When she was clean, he lifted her legs onto the bed and straightened her limbs.

“Get some sleep.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. By the time he lifted his head, her eyes were closed. Though deeply unconscious in seconds, Aggie’s smile lingered as she slept.

Later Jimmy crept in beside her. Afraid he might wake her, he slowly pulled up the blankets and lay carefully separate. Sometime later in the night he awakened. His cock was rock hard and aching, almost throbbing. And hot and wet. He looked at the unfamiliar bulge in the bedclothes. Then Aggie’s mouth descended over his again and he groaned as the ecstasy almost overtook him. He wanted to be conscious to enjoy this and he strained to hold back his orgasm for a few more precious moments. Aggie didn’t make the task easy for him. Her mouth molded around him like moving plaster and she sucked him not expertly but with boundless enthusiasm. Jimmy jerked as her teeth bit in a little too hard then jerked again when her hands found his buttocks and squeezed. What’s good for the goose…

Jimmy lost conscious thought as his energy focused in the glowing shaft that rose from his groin. Aggie’s tongue and teeth and lips and fingers melding into one perfect milking machine that sucked the juices out of him with relentless insistence. Jimmy yelled and arched up into her face as he came. The suction loosed but her mouth remained fastened to his pumping cock as his fluids jetted out. He tried to reach her to pull her head out of the way so she wouldn’t drown but his hands became tangled in the blankets that twisted between them.

At last he heard a choke and a gurgle, then a smiling head poked reassuringly from the covers.

“Was that fun?” Aggie asked, a grin full of his cum spread across her face.

“Come here, you,” Jimmy ordered and pulled her up into his arms. I love you, he thought but couldn’t quite say.

Instead he wrestled with her until they ended up in a tangle of bedclothes on the floor. Both exhausted, they fell asleep again where they lay. Once again in the early morning hours they made love, this time quietly, languidly, almost leisurely. Until the final moments when Aggie’s screams of coming aroused them both to a frenzy. This time she came first and then again. Jimmy held on as long as he could, savoring the delicious sensation of his full cock pounding inside her pulsating womb. At last the power of her orgasms lured him beyond the edge of reason, beyond trying, beyond caring and into that orgasmic place where he found again the union that he craved.

Chapter 18

“I’m going to Auburn,” Jimmy announced cheerfully.

“Good morning,” Richard greeted his employer as he stepped into Jimmy’s office. “Auburn?”

“There’s something funny in Aggie’s background. If I’m going to help her, I have to know what it is.”

“The private detective didn’t turn up anything. The father moved after the mother died and the girls never lived with him there.”

“I’ll find something,” Jimmy stated confidently.

“You seem chipper this morning,” Richard commented.

Jimmy grinned. “Never was one to kiss and tell.”

“That good, eh?” Richard teased.

“I want you to take Aggie out tonight. Give her a night on the town.”

“I’m sure she’d rather be with you.” Richard’s thoughts fled to the interview with Aggie in his office, her closeness on the terrace, her soft kiss to his cheek. He shook his head to clear the memory.

“I’ll be in Auburn,” Jimmy reminded him. “I’m leaving in twenty minutes for the airport. I’ll fly back either late tonight or early tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Richard asked. He felt reluctant to see Aggie again, especially after her obviously intimate night with Jimmy.

“Stay here and take care of Aggie for me.”

Richard could see no way out and agreed to squire the young woman around for the evening. He returned to his office torn between loyalty and anticipation. Loyalty won. Richard banished all thoughts of long legs and tousled auburn hair. He wouldn’t think about gray eyes and high firm breasts. Wouldn’t imagine soft lips against his cheek. He told his secretary to reserve tickets for the Phantom of the Opera at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre and to make a reservation at a small Mexican restaurant a block away. The key was to stay in public, to avoid any private moments or conversations.

The evening began better than he had feared. Aggie seemed less reluctant than he had anticipated to accept his escort instead of Jimmy’s. She was dressed in a long slim black skirt and a dark gray silk blouse, fine for the theater. After he explained the change of plans, they climbed back into the cab and headed downtown.

The small restaurant was a favorite of Richard’s. He appreciated the cozy atmosphere, unobtrusive waiters and excellent Mexican cuisine. Aggie suggested that he order for both of them. They started with ensalada de calabacitas, a spicy zucchini and chili pepper salad with feta cheese. Halfway through the salad, Richard sidled toward the image that had disrupted his concentration all day.

“Jimmy was a happy man this morning, Aggie.” He hoped his smile looked sincere.

Aggie’s eyes seemed stuck to her fork as she lifted it toward her mouth. She shrugged almost as though Jimmy’s happiness didn’t interest her. Could she possibly be that cold? Then she looked up into Richard’s eyes and the impression of coldness vanished. The eyes were alive with heat and confusion and attraction. He would have sworn she was looking affectionately, almost lovingly, at him.

“I’m glad,” she said simply, her face solemn.

Richard attacked his salad. He hardly tasted the main course of nopalitos con carne de puerco y chile verde, cactus with pork and green chile. Aggie seemed unaffected by his reticence and asked him questions about his work, obviously working to draw him out, to charm him. Richard tried to keep his armor up, but her smile penetrated his cynicism. She couldn’t be both so heartless and yet so warm. By dessert he admitted his defeat. She had won him over. Whatever her game, he was prepared to play it.

Aggie’s reaction to the sticky sweet pastel de pecana, a pecan cake with honey glaze, turned the rest of the meal into a subtle seduction. She lifted the first bite to her mouth and as the taste hit, her expression turned inward in bliss. Richard imagined her beneath him, eyes glazed in satiation. As her lips opened eagerly for the next morsel, he felt her draw his tongue into her mouth as his lips pressed hard into hers.

Richard’s fork clattered to the table. Aggie smiled knowingly and picked it up. She speared a bite of his cake and raised it to his mouth. She teased him with the sweet-filled fork, just brushing his lips. Richard’s mouth lunged and captured the bite of cake as Aggie grinned. Richard struggled to return to his senses.

“What are you doing?” His voice came out hoarse.

“Nothing,” Aggie teased.

Richard tried to remind himself that she had spent the last night with his boss, his friend. That Jimmy was crazy about her. But all he could see were her lust-filled eyes. She wanted him and intended to have him. Somehow he had changed from escort to prey. They would skip the theater and he would take her to the nearest hotel room. In the morning he would apologize to Jimmy and resign as his employee. And marry the woman across the table and live happy and penniless for the rest of their lives. Penniless. Richard stood abruptly.

“We need to go,” he growled. He understood now where the gruffness in Jimmy’s voice came from.

Aggie stood silently and walked in front of him toward the entrance to the restaurant. He wouldn’t look at her, Richard resolved. At least her back was turned so he couldn’t see those amazing eyes. He wouldn’t watch the hips that swayed gently as she walked down the aisle ahead of him. The waiter handed Aggie her coat and she passed it on to Richard. Her shoulders weren’t slender and sleek beneath his hands. Her breath wasn’t warm on his cheek as she turned in his arms. Richard stepped back.

“Thank you.” Aggie spoke softly.

She reached for his arm as they exited the restaurant. The block-long walk to the theater became an exercise in self-control. So far Richard had managed to restrain his ripening erection to half-cock. What would happen in the dark theater, with her perfume in his head and her shoulder brushing his?

“Have you seen Phantom before?” Aggie asked as she settled into the seat.

Richard watched her bottom wiggle itself to comfort. The curve of her left breast swelled into his view as he sat to her right. Better to keep his eyes straight ahead.

“No,” he answered her. “Have you?”

“No,” she smiled. “I’ve always wanted to. This is such a treat.”

She hugged his arm then leaned back as the overture began, leaving their arms entwined. She slid her hand into his. He squeezed her fingers in automatic response. By the time the chandelier fell, his arm was around her shoulders and her elbow pressed comfortably against his ribs. Richard hardly heard the rest of the show.

They held hands as they waited for the cab. Inside, Aggie leaned into him.

“Try not to worry too much,” she advised him.

Richard rubbed his forehead with his free hand.

“I feel like I’m betraying Jimmy,” he confessed.

“You’re not,” Aggie said firmly. “Can you trust me?”

“Probably not,” Richard grinned. “But at the moment, I don’t care.”

He directed the driver to take them to the Waterfront Hotel. He registered for a room as Aggie stood a pace behind his shoulder. She took his arm again as they walked to the bank of elevators.

“This will change everything,” Richard said as they waited. “You can still back out.”

“So can you,” Aggie reminded him.

But he couldn’t.

Richard lifted Aggie and carried her over the threshold of the room. She began to remove his clothes even as he still held her. He kicked the door shut and set her on her feet. By now his tie was around her neck and his shirt in a puddle on the floor. Aggie slid her hand inside the front of his pants. She grasped his now upright cock and squeezed. Richard groaned and began to pull at her clothing. She stepped back a pace, though her hand still kept a tight grip on his manhood.

“What’s the kinkiest thing you ever wanted to do?” she asked.

Richard groaned. His arms fell limp to his sides.

“I haven’t,” he began. “I don’t…I’m…”

Aggie squeezed and his attempt at apology fled.

“I can’t tell you,” he blurted.

Aggie squeezed harder.

“Tell me,” she coaxed.

“I always wanted to tie somebody up,” Richard admitted. The fantasy seemed bizarre under the circumstances. Aggie was clearly in charge.

“We’ll try it both ways,” Aggie agreed.

Both ways? Richard let himself be led by the cock to the bedside. Aggie pushed him down onto his back. When she released his cock and climbed astride his chest, Richard felt first abandoned and then submissive. She tied his hands together above his head. He could easily have stopped her, but her eyes held him more captive than the flimsy silk.

“Leave your arms above your head,” she ordered. He felt no urge to disobey.

She climbed off him and lifted first one leg and then the other, loosening and removing his shoes and socks. Then without touching his now pulsing cock, she unzipped him and pulled off pants and underwear. Richard lay naked before her fully dressed form and felt mastered, controlled. He loved it. He waited for Aggie to strip for him but somehow wasn’t surprised when she didn’t.

“Don’t move,” she warned him.

Still without touching him with her hands, she lowered her mouth over his crotch. Her lips touched him first with a kiss as light as the one to his cheek. His cock bobbed up toward her. She kissed him again lightly and he groaned.

“Shh,” she whispered.

Her mouth lowered and this time she took the full length of him inside her. Richard lifted his hips thrusting and brought his hands down to steady her head. She lifted her mouth off him.

“You have to hold still,” she ordered. “Don’t move your hips and leave your arms above your head.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“You can.”

Aggie waited while he slowly lowered his backside and raised his arms. She leaned toward his armpit and nipped him sharply. The bite stung and then spread to his nipple and down to his groin. Richard’s arms lifted involuntarily but lowered as Aggie’s eyes commanded. He gave himself into her hands. More accurately, he found, he gave himself over to her mouth. She took the full length of him inside her and slowly tightened her cheeks. Richard groaned and fought to still the automatic pumping of his hips.

Then her lips and tongue and teeth went wild over him. He strained against his upright arms and pulled his hips down to the bed in obedience. The dual control and release were a powerful aphrodisiac. Her mouth teased and squeezed and tormented his cock and the aching grew in his belly until he knew he must explode. His hips rocked and her hands pinned him and the fluid built inside him until he must let go, he must.

“Now,” he gritted, warning her so she could lift her mouth if she wanted.

Her lips stayed in place and her tongue lapped and her teeth raked and her cheeks squeezed and she milked him as the sperm shot out of him like a cannon.

“Holy shit!” he screamed. The sperm kept coming and coming. He could have sired an army with this coming, Richard felt. At last the pumping of his hips subsided and he collapsed back onto the bed. Aggie lay down on his chest.

“You can lower your arms now,” she advised him.

He lifted his hands over her head and draped his arms over her shoulders and back. She leaned up and kissed him. He could taste himself on her tongue and his cock stirred as the sense memory of the orgasm returned.

“When you get a little energy,” Aggie said into his chest, “it’s my turn.”

Her turn? Richard’s strength returned quickly as he imagined what he would do to her. He would make her come a hundred, no a thousand times. He would tie her and separate her and…. Richard sat up, dragging Aggie with him. He was ready.

He stripped her clothes efficiently and folded them neatly on the table. He wrapped her wrists together with one end of his necktie. He dragged a chair to the bedside. He laid Aggie out face up across the bed and secured the other end of the tie to the armrest of the chair. She smiled and nodded. He knelt between her legs and spread her knees.

“Don’t move now,” he smiled, imitating her words. This was fun.

Unlike her, he couldn’t resist touching her with his hands. He placed them on her breasts and squeezed. She squirmed beneath him.

“Hold still,” he reminded her.

“Make me,” she taunted.

Richard climbed off and straightened her legs. He trapped her hips firmly between his knees and began teasing in earnest. He tongued her armpit as she laughed and then gasped and then moaned. He took each nipple in turn into his mouth and tongued it to a roughened peak. Her hips heaved under him though his knees restricted her movement to a minimum. At last he could resist her nectar no longer. He released her hips and spread her knees.

“Yes,” she whispered as his fingers parted her labia. He stroked the silky moist flesh of her inner lips. He thrust two fingers hard inside her and she arched up into his hand and cried out. He almost withdrew but the pulsing that began deep inside reassured him that the cry was of ecstasy, not pain. The throbbing grew as he pressed and pushed against her inner walls and then she shook all over and hot sticky moisture flooded his fingers. He pulled them out and raised them to his lips. She was salty and sweet and indescribably delicious. Remembering the taste of his cum on her lips, he raised another fingerful to her mouth. She opened her lips obediently.

“You taste wonderful,” he told her. “Fresh and healthy and sweet.”

“So, eat me,” she smiled lazily.

Richard needed no further invitation. He lowered his mouth to her crotch and kissed her pubic hair in greeting. His fingers separated her lips and he stroked her with the flat of his tongue. She arched her back like a cat. He flicked her clitoris hard and she turned from pussy to tiger. Her arms strained against their bondage and her hips pumped up into his face. He braced her down with his hands and punished her little knob over and over. She started screaming ‘Yes!’ and her frenzy drove Richard’s tongue to faster and harsher torment. The first time she came he ignored her and continued teasing and nipping and stroking the little bud until she climaxed again and then again. At last he relaxed long enough to savor the juices that ran thickly. He thrust his tongue into her cavity and lapped the cum from the walls.

Aggie’s gasp told him that this new pleasure was as welcome as the other. He stretched her open ungently with his index fingers and tongue-fucked her hard. She came in seconds and he kept pulling and stroking. The next orgasm was so powerful she screamed out and her body went rigid instead of trembling. She didn’t ask him to stop. One more, Richard thought. Let’s see what one more does.

He thrust three fingers inside her and began pumping. She found a rhythm with him and rocked her hips. Then he lowered his mouth to her clitoris and latched his lips onto the bud. He sucked and stretched the knob to its fullest extension and as his teeth grazed the lower edge, she came again. The explosion rocked them and the bed and seemingly the room and the hotel.

When Richard regained awareness, Aggie lay inert on the bed. Her limbs were flaccid and her mouth hung slightly open. He wondered for an instant if she had survived the climax. Then she snored and Richard fell in love.

Chapter 19

Angela awoke hours later alone in the hotel room. She thought about getting up and going back to the Sylvia. She thought about phoning her sister to let her know she was okay. Then she drifted back into a deep sleep.

When she awoke for the second time, the winter sun shone through a crack in the curtains. Angela pulled back the drapes and was amazed to see sparkling water backed by a range of majestic white-topped mountains. Vancouver was another city in the sunshine. She phoned a rampaging Aggie and told her she would be back soon. She’d pick up breakfast for them both on the way. She took a leisurely shower and washed her hair. Each touch of her fingers reawoke skin Richard had caressed.

At last she made it back to the Sylvia, bagels in hand. Her twin flung open the door as she inserted the key.

“Where have you been?” she demanded hoarsely. “Here I am half dead and you disappear for the whole night.”

Aggie burst into tears.

“It wasn’t Jimmy.” Angela understood the real cause of her sister’s distress.

“What?” Aggie rubbed the sleeve of her robe over her eyes.

“I spent the night with Richard.”

“Mr. Urbano? The lawyer?” Aggie sounded incredulous. Surely she didn’t think Richard was that bad.

“I like him,” Angela said defensively. “Do you want a bagel?”

“You and your repulsive bagels,” Aggie complained. “I haven’t kept anything down in almost two days now.”

“Poor Aggie,” Angela commiserated. “You always got the worst of it.”

“Yeah,” her twin agreed. “You’d bring home a bug and then I’d get twice as sick.”

“Go back to bed,” Angela suggested.

Aggie staggered to the sofa. “Tell me what happened.”

“Jimmy went out of town, so he deputized Richard to look after me. You, I mean, but of course it was really me.” She grinned. “I seduced him.”

“Poor Richard.”

“He’s hot, Aggie,” Angela boasted. “Like a firecracker.”

“What did you…” her sister began. “No, I won’t ask.”

“Don’t,” Angela agreed. “Too exotic for your virgin ears.”

Aggie glared. Angela was saved from her blast by a knock at the door.

“Dad and Mary,” she commented as she got up. “You just rest.”

She opened the door to a tall, thin young man with pale blue eyes.

“Who are you?” she asked.

The man looked stunned.

“Who is it?” Aggie called.

Angela thought the young man might faint. She grabbed his arm and dragged him into the apartment. Aggie staggered into the hallway and then groaned.

“Andrew.”

“This is Andrew?” Angela asked. He looked so young.

“What’s going on?” The boy whimpered. He seemed too dazed to walk, so Angela half-carried him into the living room and sat him in an armchair.

“It’s okay, Andrew,” Aggie explained as she fell back onto the sofa. “This is my twin, Angela.”

“You look the same,” he commented, still sounding dazed.

“That’s the idea,” Angela agreed. She smirked at her glaring twin then crooked her baby finger and waved her hand in the air. “We were separated at birth, you see.”

“Angela!” her sister protested. “We were not, Andrew. You knew I had a twin.”

“But,” Andrew seemed to be recovering his wits. “I can’t tell you apart.”

“Lots of people can’t tell us apart,” Angela agreed, her finger still crooked.

Another knock sounded on the door. Angela let in the next wave of visitors.

“Angela!” Their father rushed to the sofa and pulled Aggie into his arms. Andrew turned white and Angela dissolved in giggles. Aggie made room for her father on the sofa by sitting up.

“I’m Aggie, Dad,” she explained hoarsely. “Angela’s better now.”

The color returned to Andrew’s face and then flamed high. He was cute in a boyish nerdy way.

“Dad, Mary, meet Andrew,” Angela introduced.

“Andrew Stollen,” Aggie added.

Andrew stood and extended his hand.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Trout.”

Angela giggled again then quieted as she caught her sister’s eye.

“Who wants coffee and bagels?” she offered.

Within minutes the five sat awkwardly around the small room. Besides herself, only Mary seemed at ease. She began to appreciate more and more the soothing influence of her new step-mother.

“Well,” her father began heartily. “Shall we all go out?”

“Aggie’s sick, Gordon,” Mary reminded him.

“Right,” he agreed. “Well,….”

“What are you doing in Vancouver, Andrew?” Aggie asked.

“I came to see you,” he answered.

Angela wondered meanly if perhaps he was a little simple. She thrust the unworthy thought aside. He was uncomfortable, that was all. She set herself the task of small talk and soon had the room under control. Andrew became more likable as he explained his research and congratulated Gordon and Mary on their recent wedding. Aggie relaxed back into the sofa and nursed a hot cup of tea laced with honey. Her father ate three bagels with butter and jam. Eventually Angela’s invention of topics faded and the room slipped back into silence.

“Maybe we should leave Aggie and Andrew to talk,” Mary suggested quietly. “I’m sure they’d like a chance to catch up their news.”

Angela felt renewed gratitude to the thoughtful woman. Her suggestion was exactly right. She jumped off the arm of the sofa where she had been perched.

“Let’s go.” She clapped her hands.

“You certainly are cheerful today,” her father commented.

“Must be the sunshine,” Angela explained and winked at her twin. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“English Bay looks beautiful,” Mary agreed. “Why don’t we walk on the seawall? You know, we ran into the nicest man this morning.”

Angela was afraid to look at Aggie. Afraid her twin’s face would mirror her own dread.

“His name was Jimmy Buko,” their father added. “He lives in the last building down the block.”

Angela worried that her sister would faint.

“Let’s take the seabus to the North Shore,” she suggested quickly. They would worry later about the potentially disastrous meeting. Aggie sighed and nodded. Angela walked to the sofa and kissed her twin on the forehead. She whispered, “Don’t worry, Boo. We’ll figure something out.”

By the time Angela, her father, and Mary came back, some color had returned to Aggie’s face, though she was still wan from not eating. Andrew appeared settled in to stay. It seemed he hadn’t booked a room of his own but had assumed he could stay with Aggie and her sister. Besides, he didn’t have much money. It was time for Aggie to lose the boy wonder and find a real man. Angela waited to hear the magic words, ‘get lost’, but Aggie didn’t speak. What were they going to do with an extra male body in the apartment? Angela left her father and Mary to entertain their new house guest and dragged her sister into the bedroom.

“He can’t stay here,” she whispered as she closed the door.

“What am I supposed to do?” Aggie whispered back.

She looked so weak, Angela eased her back to sit on the bed then perched beside her.

“What about tonight?” she asked. “Jimmy will be back from his trip.”

“It’s the same as we thought it would be last night,” Aggie said softly then blew her nose.

“He expects you,” Angela persisted. “He doesn’t like me at all.”

“I’m sure he’d like you if you weren’t trying to be me,” Aggie offered.

Angela shrugged.

“Maybe,” she agreed. Then she blurted, “What do you see in Andrew?”

Tears formed in Aggie’s eyes.

“I hate to hurt him,” she whispered.

“But you don’t want him anymore?”

Aggie shook her head. “After Jimmy….”

“You have to tell him to leave.”

“Just one night, Boo,” Aggie asked. “I’ll tell him to leave tomorrow. You won’t be here anyway.”

“I don’t know if I can pull this off any more,” Angela admitted, tacitly agreeing to Andrew’s presence for one night.

“I want to see Jimmy again,” Aggie said through a sneeze. “Just let me get well and I’ll take over the contract. I’ll still give you the money.”

“What about Richard?”

“Once Jimmy knows it’s always me, he won’t send Richard any more.”

Aggie had missed Angela’s concern by a mile. The older twin didn’t explain that it was she and Richard that she was fantasizing about, not Richard and her sister. But Richard was a forlorn hope, a true lost cause. Once he found out she was a prostitute, once he unraveled her scheme to get Jimmy’s money, the only place he’d want to see her would be in court. They’d had one fantastic night. That would have to be enough.

Angela brought her mind back to task. If Aggie could get the money, she wouldn’t need to steal the Giacometti. Prostitution had been soul-destroying enough. The more she thought about it, the less Angela wanted to become a real criminal.

“What about Dad and Jimmy?” Aggie’s whisper interrupted Angela’s thoughts.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ll try to keep Dad and Mary away from here as far as I can, but they like to go out on their own.”

“What if they meet again? What if Dad pulls out his famous wallet photos?”

Angela blanched. She hadn’t thought of the photos and their father’s pride in his identical daughters. Her spirit wilted for a brief instant with the growing complications. Then she rebounded.

“I’ll get the photos out of Dad’s wallet,” she offered.

“I bet he already knows,” Aggie lay back on the bed. “I bet Dad introduced himself as Gordon Trout.”

“Jimmy would have picked it up in a second.”

“Maybe they didn’t give last names,” Aggie said weakly.

“Dad knew Jimmy’s was Buko.”

“Maybe the wind blew Dad’s last name away. It’s always windy.”

“Sure,” Angela agreed.

It was hopeless. Jimmy and their father had met. Aggie’s weak-kneed boyfriend had deposited himself in their suite. Aggie was the one Jimmy wanted and she was too sick to go to him. Angela mentally threw up her hands. Visions of the money, of the Giacometti, of prison bars, flitted across her vision. Aggie must have sensed her defeat.

“Let’s try one more time,” her quiet law-abiding librarian sister suggested. “You go tonight and see what happens.”

“I feel like a lamb trotting off to the slaughterhouse.”

“We don’t know that,” Aggie argued. “We’re only guessing. Go one more night, and then I’ll take over.”

“If I survive,” Angela added.

She dropped her head into her hands and tried to think. Maybe her sister was right. Maybe Jimmy didn’t know the man he met was their father. Maybe….There were too many maybe’s. She looked into her sister’s swollen but gleaming eyes. Aggie really wanted one more chance with Jimmy.

“All right,” Angela agreed. “One more night.”

“But,” Aggie began then stopped.

“But what?”

“I probably don’t need to say this,” Aggie apologized in advance.

“Then don’t,” Angela agreed, knowing what her sister would say. “Jimmy is in for a dry night, I’m afraid.”

“How will you…?”

“I have no idea,” Angela admitted. “Maybe Richard will burst in and they’ll fight a duel.”

She flopped back on the bed beside her twin.

“Swords or dueling pistols?” Aggie asked seriously.

“Both!”

The twins erupted into identical giggles, distinguishable only by the occasional sneeze.

Chapter 20

Jimmy allowed the hangdog Richard to continue his resignation speech. Perhaps it was cruel of him, but the lawyer had after all knowingly intended to betray him. That he hadn’t was a circumstance beyond fate, a twist that cast Jimmy’s own recent misery into comic relief. Finally he took pity on the demoralized man and halted him in mid-sentence.

“Stop.” He held up a hand. “Sit down, Richard.”

The lawyer looked bewildered but he dropped into the nearest chair.

“The woman you fucked… made love to,” he amended at Richard’s glare, “last night wasn’t Aggie. She was her identical twin, Angela.”

“What?”

“You know I usually walk on the seawall early in the morning,” Jimmy reminded Richard, who nodded. “I met an interesting couple this morning, Gordon and his new wife, Mary.”

Richard looked too confused to form a question so Jimmy continued.

“Gordon and Mary Trout.”

“Holy shit,” Richard whispered.

“The proud papa whipped out a photo of his daughters.”

“And you could see….”

“That there were two of them, carbon copies for looks, both gorgeous. Our two Aggies”

“What are the parents doing in Vancouver?”

“A surprise visit to Dad’s vacationing twins to announce their marriage. This is their honeymoon.”

Richard shook his head. “That’s an amazing coincidence.”

“Not really, when you think about it,” Jimmy argued. “Besides, I already knew everything.”

“How?”

Jimmy handed Richard a color photocopy of a high school yearbook page. A casual reader might have thought the student doing paste-up had made a mistake and inserted the same photo twice. However, close inspection revealed an upward twist of the mouth on one face and a slight lift of the left eyebrow on the other.

“It’s uncanny,” Richard marveled.

At first Jimmy was surprised how calmly the lawyer accepted the strange but logical explanation for their recent confusion. Then he remembered that this was the man who had steered him around reefs and through narrow legal passages to immense profits. Richard’s mind was razor sharp and accustomed to rapid rethinking. He wondered how the lawyer would take his next proposal. Jimmy rubbed his hands together and gazed speculatively at his attorney, but Richard preempted his sentence.

“How did you figure out which was the one you liked?” he asked. “I mean whether she was really Aggie or Angela.”

“I looked in the back of the book where they list the activities. Angela was a cheerleader and a member of the art club. Remember the Modigliani book? And Aggie was a library assistant. My hunch is that Angela hatched up the scheme and somehow persuaded her sister to help her out.”

“Why not answer the ad as herself?”

“Unfortunately, I know the answer to your question,” Jimmy admitted reluctantly.

“And…” Richard prompted.

Jimmy thought for a moment. The lawyer would find out soon anyway.

“Angela is a high class hooker in New York City. She goes by the name Angel.”

Richard looked stunned. He dropped his head into his hands. Jimmy could imagine the unwanted pictures that were flashing in the lawyer’s head. Richard never dated, not since the accident. His first night of sex in God knows how long, and she turns out to be a prostitute. He gave him a few minutes to recover.

“I think she’s trying to get out of the life,” he commented eventually. “That’s why she wants the money.”

“How did you figure all this out?” Richard asked, his head still bowed. “The man I sent didn’t get anywhere.”

“He wasn’t local. The people in the South are pretty close-mouthed to strangers. Before I left for Auburn, I hired the one local detective agency to snoop around the Trout father. The agent got the family’s former address from a bank loan record. While the mother was alive, they had lived in a small town outside Auburn named Waverly. The detective and I went together and interviewed a few neighbors. From there it was easy.”

“And Angela is a prostitute.” Richard winced as he said the word. Then he straightened in his chair and looked Jimmy in the eye.

“Was. I called a New York detective agency and gave them her real name. We already had the box number. They got me the rest of the information within a couple of hours. She started out as a secretary for one of the top call girl outfits and moved up from there.”

“What makes you think she’s quitting?”

“She’s here for one thing,” Jimmy said. “She could be making three hundred an hour in New York but she’s not.”

The lawyer winced again.

“You’re hardly the person to scoff at second chances, Richard,” Jimmy reminded him.

The lawyer was pale now.

“I know that,” he admitted. “But prostitution?”

Jimmy dropped the topic. If Richard couldn’t grab happiness, then let him wallow. He recalled the plan the lawyer had momentarily distracted him from. He stood up and leaned forward across the desk.

“What do you say we give the girls a run for their money?” he offered.

“What do you mean?”

“Revenge.”

The single word floated across the silence between the two men. Jimmy watched as the sense penetrated Richard’s ears and a slow broad smile creased his face. The lawyer leaned back.

“What do you propose?”

“Let’s see how far they are willing to go,” Jimmy suggested. Richard nodded and he continued. “We won’t tell them we’ve figured out their plot.”

“You need to at least hint that you know something,” Richard amended. “Give them something to worry about.”

“I imagine Dad has told them about the man he met on the beach. They should be shaking in their beautiful little shoes.”

“Are you clear on your goals?” Richard asked lawyer-like.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want to punish them? Void the contract?” Richard thought for a moment. “That should be easy.”

Jimmy shook his head.

“I want Aggie,” he explained. “I could happily strangle the Angela twin, but I have different plans for my Aggie.”

Richard looked thoughtful. When he spoke, it was quietly.

“What do you plan for tonight?”

“If Aggie comes, I’ll tease her a little, but I’m not going to waste the night. We’ll end up in bed screwing our brains out.”

“And if Angela comes?”

Jimmy shrugged.

“I have a thought,” Richard offered with a sly smile.

“Go ahead.”

“Say you think she’s unbalanced, a dual personality. Pretend to try to get the real Aggie to come out.”

Jimmy chuckled and then his trademark belly laugh rumbled out. He walked around the desk and clapped Richard on the back.

“You ought to be writing sitcoms, my boy,” he boomed. “That’s perfect.”

Jimmy wasn’t sure he’d be able to tell at a glance which sister arrived for the evening. As the young woman stepped from the taxi, he thought perhaps she was Aggie and his lips turned up in a lascivious smile. She was dressed Aggie-style in a long corduroy skirt and stylish boots. She greeted him with a smile and a peck on the cheek. When he helped her out of her coat in the elevator, he saw that her blouse was a peasant style with colorful embroidery. She looked nothing like a hooker. His hopes rose another notch. When they stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby of his apartment, he pulled her into his arms.

The moment their mouths touched he knew she was Angela. Instead of softening and flattening, her lips remained cool and aloof. Hot anger boiled up in Jimmy at the deception but before it broke through, the humor of the situation overtook him. So, he had just kissed his future sister-in-law. The thought took him by surprise. The word ‘marriage’ hadn’t entered his mind until that errant thought. He pushed it aside for later consideration. He put his hands on Angela’s shoulders and held her away from his body. Then he took her hand and led her toward the living room.

“Can’t we sit in the library?” Angela asked.

“Aggie,” he murmured. “My sweet.”

He ignored her request and pulled her down beside him on the sofa. She inched her leg away from his thigh. Jimmy smiled.

“Aggie,” he murmured lovingly again. “Aggie, I know you’re in there somewhere. Send the evil twin away and come out.”

Angela bridled as though struck and Jimmy grinned inside. ‘Evil twin’ was a masterful touch.

“What evil twin?” Angela asked coldly. The real Aggie would have attacked him by now.

“My poor dear,” Jimmy continued as he lifted Angela across his lap and held her like a child. He smoothed back her hair. “I understand.”

“You understand what?”

His odd words were beginning to crack Angela’s cool facade.

“I understand your disorder,” Jimmy explained. “Aggie, sweetheart, I consulted a doctor from the psychiatric unit at Vancouver General Hospital. He explained…”

“You what?” Angela interrupted. She sat up rigid in his arms. Then her face stilled and she relaxed back into his embrace. She continued sweetly. “What did he tell you?”

Jimmy saluted her quick thinking. Maybe Angela had promised Aggie she would try to avoid sex tonight. Feigning insanity would work. But then why had Angela been the one to come? Had something happened to the real Aggie? Jimmy pushed the worry aside. She was probably scared, he decided. After last night and Angela sleeping with Richard thinking she was Aggie, she probably thought he would kill her. If it had been true, he would have. Since he hadn’t brought it up, Angela must think he didn’t know she had captivated his lawyer. Good.

“He told me you probably suffer from a disorder called multiple personality syndrome,” Jimmy belatedly answered Angela’s question. He hoped the psycho-babble sounded authentic. “You must have had a dreadful childhood, my poor sweetheart.”

“No,” Angela protested. “I love my parents. I had a good childhood.”

“Maybe an early death?” Jimmy suggested. “Maybe you were born a twin and the other one died when you were young and the trauma left psychic scars.”

Jimmy regretted his words when he noticed the pallor that swept Angela’s face. The death of her twin was too awful for her to contemplate. They must be very close. Or maybe she was just worried that he had strayed so close to the truth.

“No,” she whispered.

“Are you aware that you have two personalities?” Jimmy prodded. A devil prompted him to add, “One’s an angel.”

Color flared back into Angela’s face with Jimmy’s use of her hooker name. Good. Though he wanted to punish her, he didn’t like to see her so pale.

“Tell me about my two personalities,” she challenged.

“One is fiery hot. She’s the one I think of as the real Aggie,” Jimmy explained. “She’s the one I like.”

“And the other?”

“The other is cool and collected. I’m afraid I don’t like this persona, the one you are now, nearly as well.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears shimmered in Angela’s eyes. Jimmy wondered how good an actress she really was. Could this be part of the act?

“I’m only one person,” she continued and a tear slid down her cheek. “I’m sorry you don’t like me.”

Maybe he had hurt her feelings. Jimmy wiped away the tear with the flat of his index finger.

“I’d like you if you weren’t hiding the real Aggie,” he offered. The devil egged him on. “I want to help you, sweetheart. Let me book an appointment with the psychiatrist.”

Angela stood and shook her head. She was again the cool, in charge twin.

“I don’t need a psychiatrist.” The words came out clipped, a trace of New York slipping through. She must have realized the slip because she added in a southern drawl, “Jimmy, sweetheart, I appreciate you being concerned about me.”

“Let’s go to bed and work things out there,” Jimmy suggested to see what she would do. His answer was a stricken but mute appeal. He took pity. “No, maybe you should just go back to the hotel and get a good night’s sleep.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. She looked almost ready to collapse in relief. Jimmy’s pity hardened as he pictured the long empty night ahead.

“Banish this cool Aggie,” he warned Angela. “Send the hot-tempered one tomorrow.”

“Or else?” Angela challenged.

Jimmy admired her guts.

“Or else the contract’s off,” he stated. “I’m sure Richard can find a clause to void the agreement, given your persistent non-performance.”

If Jimmy had wanted to rattle Angela, he had succeeded. He wondered whether her ebbing color came more from the threatened loss of the contract or from his mention of her last night’s companion. For Richard’s sake, he hoped it was the latter. Whichever, Angela quickly recovered herself.

“My non-performance, as you put it, has been with your agreement,” she asserted.

Suddenly Jimmy was tired of the game, the deception.

“Go back to the hotel,…”

He had almost said ‘Angela’. Time to get her out of the apartment before he slipped. He helped her into her coat. A few minutes later as he handed her into the taxi, he debated telling her everything. He could go back with her to the hotel, find the real Aggie and bring her to the apartment. But no, he would give the schemers one more night, one more chance to come clean. If Aggie didn’t come tomorrow night, if she didn’t confess to the whole devious plot… Jimmy’s thoughts stalled. What would he do? He would love her anyway, he realized. Right after he strangled her.

Chapter 21

Somehow, miraculously, they had made it through seven nights of the contract. Aggie woke on the eighth morning with that thought foremost in her mind. She lay with her eyes still closed and listened to Angela’s breathing on the second bed. Andrew had been granted the sofa. Five more nights, she thought. She drew in a deep breath and then remembered to be surprised that she could breathe. Her flu must have finally broken.

Aggie checked herself internally. Her stomach rumbled with hunger. A good sign. Her eyes were heavy with sleep but at least they didn’t burn with fever. Aggie swallowed. Easy. No lump, no rasp. She could go to Jimmy tonight. They could sleep together. Aggie smiled when she remembered the scope that simple word covered. She doubted they would really sleep at all.

Angela had told her of Jimmy’s suspicions, that he thought she had a dual personality. In a way, his misperception made their deception easier. Aggie felt a pang of remorse for deceiving him, but after all, this was a man who thought he could buy a woman. He deserved a trick or two with his treats. She would play along, maybe even agree to see a psychiatrist, then she would screw his brains off till he didn’t even remember the offer. Her smile broadened as she opened her eyes.

Drat. She heard Andrew snore in the living room. Her young former lover would have to go. She wondered how she had ever thought herself in love with him. He was sweet, but he wasn’t even a man yet. Someday he’d fall for a cute little redhead and they’d make adorable babies together. Aggie’s exasperation faded with the picture. She hated to just dump him on his ass. He really was sweet.

Aggie slid out of bed, pulled her bathrobe around her and padded to the restroom. When she opened the bathroom door a few minutes later, she sniffed the air. Coffee. Somebody else was awake.

“Hi!” Andrew greeted her as she walked into the tiny kitchen. He kissed her on the forehead.

“Morning breath,” he explained. “Do you want to go out for breakfast?”

“How did you know I wasn’t Angela?” Aggie asked.

“You let me kiss you,” Andrew answered with a grin. “She would have walked back into the bedroom the minute she saw me.”

“Is she that bad?” Aggie asked. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Andrew replied, then his male ego butted in. “She’s probably jealous.”

Aggie almost laughed. Instead she took too large a swallow of coffee and burned her mouth.

“Do you want to go out to breakfast?” Andrew repeated, oblivious to her agony as she spit the hot liquid into the sink.

“No,” Aggie glared then she relented. “Why don’t you go to the bakery and get us some cinnamon rolls?”

“Sounds good to me,” Andrew agreed. “I’ll get some bagels for Angela. Can you lend me some money?”

Andrew’s impecuniousness had never bothered Aggie before. Now his dependence nearly drove her up the wall. Still, he had remember the bagels for Angela. Aggie dug in her purse and pulled out a colorful bill.

“What’s that one?” she asked.

“I think it’s a ten.” Andrew examined the paper closely and found the numeral. “Yup. Ten ought to do it. I’ll be right back.”

Aggie took her almost drinkable coffee into the living room.

“When are you going to tell the boy wonder to go home?” Angela’s sleepy voice drifted out of the bedroom. She was awake.

“Don’t call him the boy wonder,” Aggie called back. “He’s twenty-five.”

“A baby.” Angela wandered into the room scratching her hair. “I need a shower.”

Aggie’s twin filled a mug and brought her coffee into the living room where she sat on the sofa.

“I thought you wanted a shower,” Aggie commented.

“Coffee first,” Angela explained. “So I won’t drown.”

“It’s going to work after all, isn’t it Boo?” Aggie couldn’t quite dampen the hope in her voice. Five nights with Jimmy. She would think about the sixth night later.

“Cross your fingers,” Angela agreed. “You have to tell the boy wonder to go.”

“His name is Andrew. He’s getting you bagels.”

“Maybe he can stay. I’ll call him bagel boy.” The twins laughed.

By the time Andrew returned, Aggie was in the shower. Angela convinced him for a few minutes that she was her twin. When he tried to put his hand up her sweater, she called a halt to the charade. Aggie emerged hot and clean to a sulking young ex-boyfriend who didn’t know it yet.

Angela left with their father and Mary to the conservatory at Queen Elizabeth Park. Aggie spent the morning listening to Andrew’s complaints about her sister. She finally took him in desperation to Science World, really a child’s amusement, but he was fascinated by the ingenious displays. Aggie found her interest caught despite herself and spent a pleasant afternoon learning about acoustics and dinosaurs. She dragged Andrew out and back to the hotel at five o’clock. Zero hour approached.

Without explanation, she left Andrew alone in the living room at 5:30 and disappeared into the bedroom. When she emerged dressed in a short tight jean skirt and a long pale peach sweater, her resolution was firm. She would tell him now that he had to go back to Cincinnati, that their association was through. As she turned the corner into the living room, she saw that Andrew had fallen asleep on the sofa. She breathed a sigh of relief and guilt and left him a note on the coffee table. She couldn’t tell him to leave in a note, so the words just read, Be back later. Don’t worry.

Don’t worry. She repeated the words to herself like a mantra as she directed the taxi this way and that. The charade of a roundabout cab drive seemed redundant at this stage, but Angela still hoped to keep their hotel location a secret. Aggie secretly suspected that their father had already spilled the beans to his seawall friend Jimmy. Jimmy. Mmmm. Aggie leaned back into the seat and imagined the coming evening.

Jimmy waited inside the lobby as Aggie had expected, but with him was another man. The stranger was almost a dead ringer for photographs Aggie had seen of Sigmund Freud, tall, thin and stooped with a sad knowing face and a pipe. Either Freud or Sherlock Holmes without his hat. Jimmy opened the door for Aggie and then introduced them.

“Aggie, this is Dr. Topas. Dr. Topas, Aggie Trout.”

Aggie shook the offered hand. Something about the name niggled at her memory.

Jimmy kept up a stream of small talk as they entered the elevator. Aggie thought furiously. Ha, she remembered in triumph as they stopped at the apartment floor. I’ve read Shakespeare, too. Sir Topas was the name of the false monk in Twelfth Night. Twelve nights? She silently saluted Jimmy’s ingenuity and resolved to play the game to the hilt.

“Dr. Topas is a specialist in multiple personality disorders,” Jimmy explained as he helped Aggie out of her coat. She nodded solemnly. He had the wrong term, but it was a good stab. “I’d like you to talk to him. Maybe we can banish the second personality forever.”

“Which one do you want to keep?” she asked innocently.

“The one that’s here now,” Jimmy answered without hesitation. Aggie was glad he somehow knew. “Let’s all sit in the library.”

Aggie and Dr. Topas followed Jimmy into the book filled room. Aggie saw the bogus doctor’s eyes caress the wealth of books. An academic, perhaps? She wondered how Jimmy had persuaded him into the charade. Jimmy seated Aggie under a light and placed the doctor and himself in shadow. He waved for the doctor to begin. Aggie sank back into her chair. This should be fun.

“Aggie,” the doctor began. “Do you mind if I call you Aggie?”

“Please do.”

“Aggie, I want you to think back to your childhood.”

Aggie closed her eyes and pretended to remember. In reality she was trying to dream up a barely plausible tale.

“You are twelve years old Aggie,” the soothing voice said. “Tell me about where you live.”

This was easy.

“We live in a big old house in a small town in Alabama.” There were hundreds of small Alabama towns. Jimmy would never figure out which one she meant. “The house was built in the 1890’s. It has wood floors and high ceilings and a huge attic.”

Aggie stopped talking. She had almost added ‘where my twin and I used to play.’ She had better be careful. The doctor seemed undisturbed by her silence.

“Back up to eight years old, Aggie. Where do you live now?”

“The same house, but it seems even bigger.” Aggie congratulated herself. ‘Even bigger’ was a nice touch. She had done regression therapy before and knew the right buttons. Aggie slit open one eye and saw the doctor nod happily to Jimmy. The two frauds. I’ll give them something to nod about. She began to moan. “Oh, ooohhh…”

“What is it?” the doctor asked.

“Ooohhh…” Aggie groaned.

Jimmy took her hand and shook it lightly.

“I have a tummy ache,” she groaned.

“She must have gotten sick when she was eight,” the doctor explained. They didn’t think their regression was really working, did they? Aggie almost laughed but instead she stopped groaning and began to giggle.

“Dada,” she gurgled trying her best to sound like a preverbal baby. “Goo-goo. Agga waana ookie.”

She was afraid she had gone too far. Jimmy’s fingers tightened on her hand.

“Doctor,” he exclaimed dramatically. “You’ve regressed her to a baby!”

Aggie knew now that he was on to her and that they were somehow together pulling a fast one on the bogus doctor.

“Oogle, oogle, ooo,” she babbled.

“Bring her back!” Jimmy’s voice was near hysteria.

“You’re ten now,” the doctor said frantically. “Now you’re twelve. You’re twenty now, Aggie. We’re back in the present.”

Aggie allowed the baby smile to fade slowly from her face. When she opened her eyes she almost lost her composure as she looked into Jimmy’s laughing orbs. She swallowed her giggles and turned to the doctor.

“You’ve cured me!” she cried and jumped out of her chair. She ran and knelt at his feet, wrapping her arms around his legs. The man looked like he might have a heart attack. Then Jimmy’s laughter bellowed forth. The sound filled the room and drew Aggie and the doctor’s eyes together. He figured it out. His tenor laugh and Aggie’s giggles melted into Jimmy’s low fading chuckle.

“You know there are two of us,” Aggie accused Jimmy a few minutes later as the three sat over coffee in the kitchen. He nodded. “How did you figure it out?”

“Looks aren’t everything,” Jimmy shrugged.

“And this charade was to get me to admit it,” Aggie pushed on.

“Aggie Trout, meet Dr. Jeremy Gladstone.”

“You really are a doctor?” Aggie asked.

“Of anthropology,” Jeremy admitted.

“How did Jimmy convince you…”

“To play the role?” Jeremy finished her sentence. “Jimmy and I go back a long way.”

“You look a lot like Freud,” Aggie commented.

“Less without the mustache.” Jeremy pulled it off. “Damn itchy thing. Well, I’d better push off now.”

Jimmy and Aggie both stood and walked with Jeremy to the door. He shook hands first with Jimmy and then with her.

“I’m glad we met,” he offered.

“Me too.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

“I hope so.” But I doubt it, she added silently. However wonderful the next five nights might be, Aggie had no illusions that they would continue beyond the contract. She would have to make enough memories to last a long time. As the door closed, she locked her fists into Jimmy’s shirtfront and pulled him to her. “You’re a demon. Dr. Topas indeed.”

“I should have guessed you’d know your Shakespeare, witch.”

Jimmy kissed her hard and then lifted her by her locked elbows. He carried her rigid in front of him to the bedroom and plopped her on the bed. He whipped off his clothes and stood naked and challenging before her. She let her eyes roam over his middle-aged bulges and bumps as he preened like a body builder at the side of the bed. His cock rose from limp to half mast to fully engaged.

“Come take me, you gorgeous thing,” she called to him when the inflation was complete.

He pounced onto the bed above her.

“How do you want me?” he asked.

“Any way you want,” she replied.

He pulled the sweater up over her head and kissed her breasts through the lacy bra.

“Do you want to try something different?”

“Probably,” Aggie agreed tentatively. “Like what?”

He eased the short skirt down off her hips and kissed her pubic mound through the black silk panties. He looked both eager and hesitant.

“Spit it out,” Aggie told him. “I can always say no.”

Jimmy almost absently pulled off her panties and sat her up to unhook her bra. When she sat naked on the bed, he still didn’t speak. Aggie pulled him down to lie on the bed and snuggled into his arms.

“Whisper in my ear,” she told him. He did. Her logical librarian brain said an emphatic no, but the limbic emotional brain was closer to her mouth.

“All right,” she agreed.

“Have you ever done it before?” Jimmy asked out loud.

“No,” she admitted.

“But you’ve thought about it?”

She nodded.

“I want you to have an orgasm first,” Jimmy offered. “It’ll relax you.”

“I never turn down a free orgasm, “ Aggie smiled.

Jimmy arranged himself between her spread legs and lowered his mouth to her crotch.

“You smell so good,” he murmured.

“I taste good, too,” Aggie reminded him.

He lowered his mouth obediently and supped. Within a very few moments Aggie crested the peak of the first orgasm. She waited for the stimulation to continue, knowing the second would be sharper and more full. But Jimmy lifted his head.

“One more?” she asked, suddenly nervous.

Jimmy sat her up on the bed and put his hands on her shoulders.

“We don’t have to.”

“I know,” Aggie agreed. Now that the moment was here, she wanted to continue. The opportunity might not come again. “Let’s do it.”

“It may be painful the first time,” he warned her.

She nodded. Just get on with it.

“I think you’ll like it eventually.” Was he trying to convince himself?

“Just put your dick in my ass,” she ordered.

Jimmy smiled.

“I’ll stop if you tell me to,” he offered.

Aggie climbed off the bed and found his necktie. She wrapped it twice around her head and over her mouth.

“Argle, agguu,” she tried.

Her voice was unrecognizable. Good. She trusted Jimmy more than her own resolution. She didn’t want the chance to back out. Jimmy looked out of his mind. Her self-gagging obviously aroused him tremendously. He positioned her kneeling at the edge of the bed facing in. He walked into the bathroom. When he returned, he stood behind her and placed his hands on her hips.

“Bend down,” he ordered.

Aggie was hot and wet and throbbing with anticipation. How much would it hurt? Hurt like ‘ow’ or like childbirth? She leaned her forehead onto the bed so that her ass stood up like an invitation.

“I’ll use my fingers first,” Jimmy told her.

She heard the snap of what she thought must be rubber gloves. Her stomach turned. One well greased finger rimmed her asshole. Mmm. This part felt good. It slid inside. She jerked forward but Jimmy’s other hand held her steady. Though it felt strange, the finger didn’t hurt. She remember their other night of love and Jimmy’s finger up her ass. She had liked it, had been aroused by the invasion. Somehow the present touch seemed more clinical, less intimate. Jimmy slid the finger up and down inside her. Her muscles tightened involuntarily and she tried to breathe slowly and relax. Nothing hurt. It was just strange. He slid his finger out.

“Two now,” he warned her.

The pressure was more with the double entry and again Aggie jerked forward. Two was more than twice one, she would swear. Still the sensation was more fullness than pain.

“Keep breathing,” Jimmy advised, and she tried. At last she felt her buttock muscles ease. As she relaxed, Jimmy’s motion reached through the wall of her anus toward her vagina. She gasped and waited for the next thrust. This wasn’t so bad. After several moments, Jimmy again eased his fingers from her bottom. Time for the real thing?

“I’m going to stroke you with a small dildo,” Jimmy said.

She felt a hard pressure even as he said the words. He didn’t give her time to adjust, to think, to get scared. He pushed again hard and she jerked forward in earnest. This was a small dildo? It felt like the Rock of Gibraltar. It was thicker and much longer than his fingers. The ungiving rod pressed way up inside her. Stop, Aggie yelled into the gag, but the sound didn’t emerge.

“Try to relax,” Jimmy urged. “Keep breathing.”

He didn’t move the dildo in and out but left it still. She supposed he was letting her get used to the fullness. He wrapped his free arm under her belly and leaned over her back. Aggie decided she didn’t like the dildo. It was hard and unyielding. It didn’t feel human. Surely his cock wouldn’t be this uncomfortable. She wanted to tell him but couldn’t. Now she regretted the gag.

Jimmy’s hand found her pubic mound and he cupped the soft hair. She gurgled encouragement as his finger snaked through the curls to her moist inner lips. He found her clitoris and for a second Aggie forgot the throbbing in her rear as a sharp spur darted from bud to vagina to anus. Could she have an orgasm like this? When Aggie’s notice returned to her rear, she found the throbbing had ceased. Her bottom had accustomed inself to the intruder. Had Jimmy known this would happen? Apparently, for soon he eased the dildo out.

Aggie panted for a moment as she waited for the next onslaught. He had to put his cock in her now. She wanted it, she realized. He was hers and she wanted him inside her. Jimmy might have read her mind, for he untied the gag.

“I’m ready,” she gasped.

“I will stop….”

“I know. Come inside me,” she invited, still panting. “Let’s have the biggest honking orgasm ever.”

Jimmy’s hands gripped her hips hard.

“I’m going to come in fairly quickly,” he warned her. “Try not to fight me.”

The pressure was immense and Aggie cried out as the sheathed head and then the length of him forced past her rectal muscles and into her anus. No wonder he had said the dildo was small. She panted and gasped and clamped her lips together so she wouldn’t tell him to stop.

“I’m in.”

“I know.” She tried to laugh but only panting emerged.

“Can you hold steady?” he asked.

“I’ll try.”

His right hand left her hip and reached toward her crotch. Yes, she thought, distract me. His finger on her clitoris was an instant demand and the willing bud obeyed. Aggie savored the arousal and ignored the ache. As she relaxed and then tightened toward orgasm, his cock seemed to grow from her rear into her vagina. The sensation was even more erotic than painful.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Keep going.”

Slowly Jimmy began to rock in her rear. At first each push overwhelmed her and her arousal died with the pain. Then she grew into the unnatural rhythm. Jimmy kept his finger hard at her clitoris and her awareness darted from pleasure to pain and back. Then the two merged and it was all one sensation as Jimmy grew further inside her. His thrusts took him to her gut now and she was fleetingly glad they hadn’t eaten. Then the thought disappeared with all others as the first climax approached.

The tremors were stronger than first climaxes had a right to be and Aggie’s knees trembled on the bed. Jimmy groaned and stilled above her. Aggie felt her powerful rectal muscles squeezing him unmercifully. Payback. Slowly the trembling died down.

“Did you come?” she panted.

“Not yet.”

“Keep going.”

“Are you sure?”

“I want another climax,” Aggie insisted. “Keep going.”

He did. This time the pounding was more insistent and the finger on her clitoris couldn’t entirely distract her. The combination of fullnesses drove deep inside her and a primal sense of who she was filled her. The second climax was strong, powerful enough to wrench a cry from her throat. Again Jimmy ceased his movement.

“Keep going,” she cried. “Don’t stop now.”

Jimmy’s right hand left her crotch and he braced her hips again with both. His pumping reached toward an insistent rhythm and then he grew again. She knew from the pressure that he was almost there and she contracted her vagina to help him. The contraction drowned the last vestiges of her civilized self and Aggie’s orgasm roared from deep in her belly. She knew rather than felt that Jimmy joined her in the final release.

Her arms and legs gave way and she would have fallen if not still pinned by his strong hands and by his stronger organ. His pulsing joined with hers as both emptied themselves of their vital juices. At last he withdrew slowly from her. As his penis left her, his grip loosened. Aggie collapsed forward onto the bed and Jimmy tumbled still trembling on top of her.

Chapter 22

“He knows,” Aggie insisted. “We have to both go.”

“He can’t be sure,” Angela argued. “Did he know my name?”

“No,” Aggie admitted. “But he invited us both to dinner tonight. That doesn’t sound too sinister, does it?”

“It sounds like the end of a hundred-twenty thousand dollars.”

“Maybe Richard will be there,” Aggie mentioned seemingly casually.

Angela threw a bed pillow at her. Richard. She couldn’t afford to think about him. They had one fantastic night, that was all. It would have to be enough. The pillow sailed back and hit her in the side of the head. Angela grabbed it and flailed at her twin. By the time a sleepy Andrew wandered in, they were in full form. The only thing missing was feathers. It seemed the pillows were foam.

“Morning, Andrew,” Aggie called out.

Angela took advantage of her distracted attention to land a solid blow to her rear. She knocked her off the bed. Angela jumped up and yelled, “I’m the king of the castle!”

Andrew shook his head and muttered something of which the only intelligible word was ‘juvenile’.

“Why is he still here?” Angela asked the twin on the floor.

“He loves me?” Aggie answered. “I don’t know. I’ve given him enough hints.”

“Like disappearing last night. I think that’s a pretty big hint.”

“He’s supposed to be a computer genius, you know,” Aggie giggled. “But I don’t think he has much people sense.”

“Repeat after me,” Angela coached with exaggerated lip movements, “Andrew, go back to Cincinnati!”

“Shh,” Aggie flung her pillow at the bed. “He’ll hear you.”

“I’m going to take a shower,” Angela ended the conversation and left the room. She heard the suite door open and snick shut. One day Aggie would see reason and give Andrew the boot. In the meantime, at least he fetched her bagels.

Aggie was in the shower and Angela savoring the last bite of bagel when their father and Mary arrived at the suite.

“How are the newlyweds this morning?” she asked as the two walked in hand in hand, their cheeks flushed.

“We just went for a walk around Stanley Park on the seawall.”

Angela had a dreadful premonition.

Aggie walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head.

“Hi Dad, Mary,” she called as she went into the bedroom.

“It’s six miles,” their father continued.

“That’s a long walk,” Angela commented, wanting to hurry Aggie back into the room.

“We met up with…” Mary paused. “Oh, hello Andrew.”

The young man had been standing by the window and hadn’t turned when the older pair entered the suite. Mary must have just noticed him. He turned at her words and their greetings took enough time for Aggie to enter from the bedroom.

“Anyway,” Mary continued. “We met up with that nice man, Jimmy Buko.”

“He talked us into walking around the seawall with him,” their father added, oblivious to the looks the twins exchanged.

Aggie’s said, I told you so.

Angela’s acknowledged, You’re right. He knows.

“We invited him to come up and meet you,” Mary added. “But he said he had a meeting to get to. He…”

“Mary,” their father cautioned.

“That’s right,” she agreed. “It’s nothing. Let’s see. What would you girls like to do today?”

“We’ve both been invited out for dinner tonight,” Angela announced. She threw caution out the window. If he knew, what was the harm in being seen together? “Maybe we can go shopping for some new clothes.”

Their father groaned. “That’s women’s stuff. Do you want to show me around Science World, Andrew?”

The younger man readily agreed and the males were dispatched. The females took longer to exit, but eventually made their way across to Robson Strasse, the European-looking street they had noticed earlier. The strasse lived up to its appearance, and the three passed a happy day poking into arty shops and spending more money than they should have.

By four o’clock everyone had returned to the hotel. Their father and Mary departed for an evening alone together. Angela left Aggie in the living room trying one more time to break up with Andrew. She went into the bedroom and plopped onto the bed. The afternoon had firmed her resolve. She was a crook. She had been a prostitute; she had tried to be a swindler for a hundred-twenty thousand dollars; now she was going to become an art thief. The contract was void. Richard would never want her when he found out she had been a hooker; he probably didn’t want her anyway. She refused to go back to turning tricks. The Giacometti was her only remaining option. Surely Jimmy wouldn’t blame Aggie for her sister’s larceny.

Angela sat up and opened her shopping bags. She had found a pair of harem pants with a deep hidden pocket. She was sure the Giacometti would fit. She pulled on the pants and a thin silk blouse and twirled in front of the mirror. Nice. If Richard could see her now… No, she banished the thought. She tucked a silk scarf into the pocket and smoothed it out so it didn’t bulge. She would wrap the delicate statue in the scarf to protect it. Flat shoes and a streak of carefully applied red lipstick completed the outfit. If Jimmy wanted to meet the real Angela, here she was.

Angela found Aggie and Andrew at opposite ends of the small living room, glaring. She shooed Aggie into the bedroom to dress and turned on the erstwhile boyfriend.

“Andrew,” she began.

“You look terrific,” he interrupted. “You know, I don’t like you, but you do know how to dress.”

“You don’t,” Angela told Andrew bluntly. “Go home.”

“I’m not giving up my woman without a fight.”

“Aggie is not and never was your woman,” Angela pointed out. Maybe rudeness would work. “You are in the way here. We both want you to go back to Cincinnati.”

For answer, Andrew sat on the couch and opened the newspaper.

“I’m ready,” Aggie announced. She looked nice in an Aggie-way. Slim pants and a long tunic. Casually elegant if you liked simple.

“Enjoy your evening,” Andrew called from the sofa as they walked to the door.

“You’re right,” Angela admitted to her twin. “He won’t budge.”

Angela found she almost looked forward to confronting Jimmy as two people. At least the one deception would be done. He and Aggie could get on with their obvious love affair. She would disappear with the statue and never bother them again. She thought of never seeing her twin and her eyes glazed. Maybe Jimmy would eventually forgive her. She could pawn the statue, invest the money, make a mint, redeem the statue and return it to him. She smiled at her foolishness. Maybe by the end of the evening, she’d have thought of an alternative to larceny.

Jimmy greeted the two women with a huge smile at the door to the apartment building. He walked unerringly up to Aggie and kissed her hard.

“How can you tell?” Angela asked.

Jimmy shrugged. “I just know. I always did. Aggie, introduce your sister.”

Angela wondered why he continued the charade. He must know they knew that he knew their father. Whew. What a tangle.

“Jimmy, this is my twin sister, Angela,” Aggie obeyed Jimmy’s superfluous instruction.

“The evil twin,” Angela reminded Jimmy with a smile as she held out her hand.

“What?” Aggie asked.

“Jimmy thinks I’m the evil twin,” Angela explained. And tonight I’ll prove him right.

“Only when you pretended to be Aggie,” Jimmy amended. “Come upstairs. I’ve ordered in from the Four Seasons.”

“Ever heard of Chinese?” Aggie teased.

Upstairs the trio toasted their newfound understanding with champagne. Then Jimmy unveiled a many course meal with enough food for ten sets of twins. By the time they finished the quails in aspic, they had also consumed several glasses of wine. The tarte aux framboises found them all tipsy and in good humor. Angela had to struggle to hang onto her resolve to become a criminal. Jimmy was nice, really nice, when he was with Aggie.

At last the meal was over and Jimmy suggested they take their coffee into the library. He handed Angela into a seat with a direct view of the Giacometti. Could he possibly know? She dragged her eyes away from the statue. She and Aggie continued to regale him with tales of growing up in rural Alabama. Decorating the yard all out for Halloween and Christmas. Auburn football games and the steady stream of blue and orange festooned cars carrying eighty-five thousand rabid fans from all over the south to Jordan-Hare Stadium.

He told them in turn of growing up in Vancouver. Of pick-up ice hockey games at the local rink. A quiet Thanksgiving in October, laughing at all the fuss the Yankees made in November. To Canadians, everyone who lived in the U.S., even in Alabama, was a Yankee. The Canucks liked their southern neighbors, but found them rather strange. They couldn’t even spell. Kept dropping the u’s. And what about that ‘eh’, eh?

Suddenly the mellow evening turned on Angela. The conversation was too easy, the smiles too pleasant. Life was basically tough, and Jimmy and Aggie didn’t seem to know that. She couldn’t stand to be around their happiness any longer.

“I’m going to leave you two lovebirds,” she stood up and announced.

Aggie and Jimmy exchanged a glance. Angela realized they had been waiting for her to go and she flushed. They walked with her out to the lobby and Jimmy pushed the elevator button. Now or never. Angela pulled one glove out of her pocket.

“Oops,” she announced. “I think the other glove must have fallen out of my pocket in the library.”

She turned back to the door and sighed in relief when neither followed. They were probably too absorbed in each other to notice her absence. She slipped into the library but was afraid to close the door. She walked straight up to the statue, stood sideways to the door, put it in her pocket and wrapped it as best she could in the scarf. It fit. The folds of the full pants hid the bulge. It was done. Angela wondered if she looked as pale as she felt. She definitely was not cut out for a life of crime. She picked up the glove she had dropped in her chair.

“Found it,” she announced, waving the glove as she walked out into the lobby.

She was surprised to see that Jimmy and Aggie had their coats on.

“Jimmy wants to show us the terrace,” Aggie explained.

“Isn’t it raining?” Angela asked. She wanted to get out of the apartment fast.

“It cleared up while we were talking,” Jimmy smiled. “Come on out. It’s a lovely view.”

Aggie linked her arm in Angela’s and walked with her through the lobby and dining room and out onto the terrace. The statue bumped awkwardly against Angela’s leg. She struggled not to wince or stumble as it hit again and again in the same soon-sensitive spot. Jimmy walked behind them and Angela prayed there was no visible lump. Eventually they made it to the railing.

Jimmy was right. The view was breathtaking. A shimmer of lights dusted the far shore, with a broad ribbon of flat black water between. The boats in the harbor made their own display of lights like a Christmas show, each doubled by its reflection in the calm bay. Angela relaxed against Aggie’s side. The statue bumped painfully into her other leg and she jerked.

“Are you all right?” Aggie asked. “Jimmy, I think Angela’s hurt.”

“No,” Angela assured her. “I’m fine.”

“Come inside,” Aggie urged and took Angela’s arm.

Angela couldn’t walk straight now; the pain was too intense. It felt more like a cut than a bruise.

“There’s blood on your pants,” Aggie exclaimed when they reentered the light.

Angela thought fast. It was over. She was caught. A limb of the statue must have cut through the thin fabric of the pocket and then into her skin. Somehow now that the moment was here, she couldn’t bear to admit the depth of her depravity to her sister. She would do anything, go to jail, go back to hooking, anything so Aggie wouldn’t know. Her eyes met Jimmy’s and she realized that he understood.

“I’ll get Angela into the bathroom,” he took command. “Aggie, you boil some water for tea.”

He picked Angela up in his arms, carefully avoiding the statue and the injured leg. He carried her into the bathroom and started to put her down on the edge of the huge circular bathtub.

“No,” Angela warned him “You might hurt the statue.”

She stood holding onto his arm with one hand and pulled out the bloodied gauze-wrapped bronze with the other. She held it out to Jimmy.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized.

At least he didn’t say it was all right. He didn’t say it was nothing. Angela knew it wasn’t all right and it wasn’t nothing. What he did say was, “Let’s look at that leg.”

He put the statue on the counter and lifted the full leg of Angela’s pants. She looked down to see a jagged bloody gash. No wonder her leg had hurt. She heard footsteps. Jimmy put the statue behind the toilet and put his finger to his lips. Angela could have kissed him.

“Are you okay?” Aggie asked.

“She must have brushed against something on the terrace,” Jimmy explained.

“Let’s see.” Aggie looked at the ugly wound and her eyes became moist. “Oh, Boo.”

“It’s okay,” Angela said hastily, her own eyes damp. The cut was the least punishment she deserved for what she’d tried to do. She couldn’t stand that her twin felt sorry for her, a criminal.

Jimmy wiped the cut with a warm washcloth. He was gentle, Angela noticed, and the cleansing barely hurt. The cut was more like a scratch, though jagged and ugly. By the time he finished cleaning it, the bleeding had stopped. He pulled a sterile bandage from a drawer and taped it to her thigh.

“Good as new,” he commented, looking up into her face.

“Thank you,” she said aloud.

“For everything,” she mouthed behind Aggie’s back.

Though all her problems still remained, Angela felt as though she had won a lottery. She felt free and happy as she hadn’t since the night she’d written the letter to answer the ad. She wasn’t a criminal. She wasn’t a swindler. She wasn’t a prostitute any more. Somehow, she would be okay.

Chapter 23

Like clockwork, the buzzer rang. Jimmy pushed the button to release the elevator to the lobby. Damn, he was good. He had hoped the terrace diversion would keep Angela in the apartment till the rest of his guests arrived. Her attempt at larceny had added the few extra moments he needed. Jimmy realized now that Angela was more desperate than he had thought. They would have a long conversation soon.

The elevator doors opened just as Aggie and Angela emerged from the bathroom. Gordon and Mary Trout stepped into Jimmy’s lobby and Gordon greeted his daughters casually.

“Hi Blossom, Peach Fuzz.” Jimmy stored away the nicknames. Peach Fuzz?

The twins looked stunned. Aggie turned to Jimmy and glared.

“You knew. You knew everything. How soon? What did you do, spy on us?”

Jimmy watched in glee as Aggie’s anger rose with each question. Her hands were on her hips now. She looked about ready to take a swing. As Jimmy braced himself to ward off the blow, Aggie startled him by bursting into loud laughter.

“You should see your face,” she choked. She turned abruptly to her father, “Dad?”

The single word held interrogation and menace.

“What did you tell him?” she continued, her voice deep.

“I didn’t tell Jimmy anything,” he protested. “I didn’t need to. You girls have been up to some naughty tricks.”

Jimmy noticed Angela wince. He walked to her side and put his arm around her shoulder.

“Nothing a good spanking won’t solve,” he chuckled, unable to resist the tease. Angela’s cheeks blushed to a rosy pink.

“Come on in,” he urged the older Trouts. “Let me show you around.”

While Jimmy took Gordon and Mary on a tour of the apartment, he kept half an eye on the furiously consulting Aggie and Angela. They must be wondering how much their father really knew. He’d let them stew a little longer. Midway through the tour, the buzzer rang again. That must be Richard. He left his guests in the library and pressed the release button in the lobby. He waited by the elevator to greet his friend.

An unknown young man emerged instead, carrying a flat box and waving a long pistol in the air. Jimmy gave the youngster a long look, pointedly ignoring the pistol.

“Aggie,” he called into the library. “I think you have company.”

Aggie poked her head into the lobby and her reaction was everything Jimmy could have imagined.

“Andrew!” she yelled and charged forward. She shoved him back with both hands on his chest. “Go home!”

As she readied another charge, Jimmy reached out an arm and snagged her around the waist.

“I’m here to take you back,” Andrew stammered. He lifted the gun. “This man has you bewitched.”

“The other way around,” Jimmy murmured.

“I challenge you to a duel,” Andrew said bravely and held out the box. Jimmy pinned the struggling Aggie to his side and covered her mouth with his other hand.

“How would you like a job working on the new x99B chip?” Jimmy offered.

“What?” The gun wobbled.

“I understand you’re a computer expert.” Aggie stilled at his side and he released her. “One of my companies is working on the x99B.”

“The x99B?” Andrew echoed. The gun dropped to his side. “Wow! That’s the prototype for the next generation.”

“So you’d like the job?”

“Sure!”

“You’re hired.” Jimmy pulled the gun and the flat box from Andrew’s unresisting hands. “Now that you’re my employee, you aren’t allowed to shoot me.”

Andrew flushed deep purple.

“I…I…I…” he stuttered.

“That’s okay.” Jimmy put an arm around his shoulder and guided him through the library door and into a chair. “I agree that Aggie’s worth fighting for, as long as you understand that I just won.”

Andrew nodded and sank into the chair. Jimmy caught Aggie’s eye in time to stifle her giggles. He sat on the sofa and pulled her down beside him.

“So,” Gordon spoke. Jimmy felt Aggie tense beside him. “You girls answered a personal ad.”

Aggie stared up into Jimmy’s eyes, her own asking a multitude of questions. How much had he told their father? Did he know about the money? What was going to happen now? Jimmy shrugged. She and Angela had dug a pit. He would enjoy watching them climb out. Aggie’s eyes swerved to Angela’s. The older twin lifted her little finger in a crook.

“Jimmy put an ad in the New York Times,” Angela explained. “Didn’t you Jimmy?”

He wondered where she was going. He nodded to Gordon and waited.

“I sent the ad to Aggie.” The little minx. “I just sensed something about it. Aggie felt the same way, so she answered it.”

“You sensed something?” Gordon asked.

“Like an aura,” Angela agreed.

“What did the ad say?” Gordon asked.

Angela nodded to her sister and Aggie took over. Now that she knew that her father hadn’t read the ad, Jimmy expected the story to be a good one.

“It was blunt and yet romantic,” Aggie mused. “I can’t remember the exact wording, but he talked about commitment and caring.”

Jimmy smiled in appreciation. She was skewering him to the wall and he loved it. he laid his arm along the back of the sofa behind her and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“He put in a quote from Shakespeare,

What is love? ‘tis not hereafter;

Present mirth hath present laughter.

What’s to come is still unsure:

In delay there lies no plenty;

Then come and kiss me, sweet and twenty,

Youth’s a stuff will not endure.”

“Sounds like a long ad,” Gordon commented. His prosaic remark tickled both Jimmy and Aggie and they went into a duel fit of chuckles while the rest of the company stared.

“I think it’s a pretty poem,” Angela asserted.

“Me too,” Mary agreed.

Andrew was silent. Jimmy imagined he was lost in an intense fantasy of exotic chip design.

“Why did Angela come too?” Gordon asked, persisting in his efforts to penetrate the mystery. “And why all the secrecy? Why didn’t you just tell us?”

Jimmy waited gleefully as Aggie squirmed. Her twin came to the rescue.

“Aggie was embarrassed that she’d answered an ad,” Angela explained. “She wanted to get to know Jimmy better before she introduced him to you. I came along for a holiday.”

“But when we met you on the beach,” Gordon turned to Jimmy.

“Hush,” Mary interrupted. “No need for an inquisition. I’m just glad we’re all together here tonight.”

Jimmy smiled. Gordon had found himself a good woman. He was about to suggest coffee when the elevator buzzer rang yet again. He excused himself to the company and went again to the lobby. This time it must be Richard. When the elevator opened, he got his first real shock of the night.

“Hi Jimmy,” his brother greeted him.

“Danny.” Jimmy’s eyes were riveted to his brother’s companion. Monica?

“We got married,” Danny explained in his simple style.

“Married?” Jimmy echoed. To Monica?

“He’s my jazz musician,” Monica added.

Jimmy sat in the nearest chair.

“I like to play the trumpet.”

Jimmy remember the lessons his parents had mentioned in letters. Ten years older, he hadn’t been around much during his brother’s teen years. Jimmy wondered how long Danny had been playing professionally, how long he had been living a life totally outside Jimmy’s knowledge.

“I love Monica and Jen,” Danny interrupted Jimmy’s thoughts.

That was enough explanation for Danny, Jimmy knew. For himself, he wanted a little more detail. Aggie wandered out of the library and joined them.

“Hi Danny,” she greeted his brother.

Jimmy’s usually aloof sibling put his arms around Aggie and squeezed.

“I knew you were the one.”

“About your marriage,” Jimmy interrupted.

“Danny didn’t tell me his last name. I wouldn’t have…,” Monica paused awkwardly. Jimmy waved away the words and she continued. “He asked me to marry him yesterday.”

“I love Monica and Jen,” Danny repeated. “I’m adopting Jen.”

Monica knelt beside Jimmy’s chair and took his hand in both hers.

“I love Danny,” she said earnestly. “I’ll take good care of him. We’ll take care of each other.”

“I believe you will,” Jimmy agreed. He kissed her on the forehead. “Let’s go into the library.”

Danny surprised Jimmy yet again when he walked up to Aggie’s twin.

“You are Angela,” he stated as he shook hands. How did he know her name?

He walked up to the twins’ father.

“You are Gordon Trout.” He again shook hands.

“This is my brother Danny,” Jimmy interjected.

“And Mary Trout,” Danny continued.

Jimmy hoped his mouth wasn’t gaping and his eyes bugging. The things Danny knew never ceased to amaze him.

“And you are Aggie’s rejected boyfriend.” Danny walked over to Andrew. How could he possibly…? “This is my wife, Monica.”

The introductions complete, Danny sat in a chair beside his wife and took her hand in his. Jimmy hoped there was at least one thing Danny didn’t know, that his brother was one of his wife’s former clients. More likely Danny knew and acknowledged the fact with his usual calm acceptance.

Only one person remained to complete the evening. Richard. Jimmy knew his employee was in a turmoil over Angela. Richard was a lawyer. Angela was a former hooker. Jimmy hoped Richard would have resolved his feelings one way or the other and confronted Aggie’s sister tonight, but he feared his friend wasn’t coming.

All that remained was coffee and desultory conversation. Slowly the evening ran down. Danny and Monica left first, eager to get home to their daughter Jen and to each other. Gordon and Mary left next, dragging a reluctant Andrew with them. Now Jimmy needed a few minutes with Angela but he wasn’t sure how to separate the twins. Angela solved the problem for him.

“Aggie,” she explained. “I want to talk to Jimmy privately. Can you go into the living room for a few minutes?”

Aggie lifted her eyebrows and looked at first her sister and then Jimmy. When he nodded, she shrugged and left the room, closing the door behind her.

“Thanks,” Jimmy offered. “I wasn’t sure how to handle her.”

“Straight up is usually best with Aggie,” Angela explained. “She’s not devious like me.”

“I don’t think…” Jimmy began.

“I am devious,” Angela interrupted him. “Most of the time I can be sneaky in helpful ways, but tonight was wrong, bad, criminal, use whatever words you want.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“You know that I’m a prostitute in New York,” Angela challenged him. He nodded and she added, “a former prostitute. I need enough money to get out of the life.”

“You haven’t saved up any money?”

“I’m not a saver,” she admitted. “Look, I have lots of bad qualities. I also like to spend money.”

“Are you involved with drugs?”

“No way,” Angela shook her head. Then she smiled. “I said I was devious, not stupid.”

“No drugs?” Jimmy probed.

“I’ve never even lit up a joint,” Angela asserted. “Can you say the same?”

Jimmy laughed and admitted that he couldn’t.

“What would you like to see happen now?” he asked.

“In my wildest dreams?”

Jimmy wondered if she would admit her attraction to Richard.

“Enough money to start over.” She must think the lawyer was beyond reach, either that or she wasn’t as smitten as his friend.

“I think I might go back to school,” she continued. “Become a lawyer. Put my devious streak to good use.”

Jimmy laughed.

“I can see you as a lawyer,” he admitted. “Let’s get Aggie in here.”

“You’re not going to tell her about the Gioacometti?”

“Temporary insanity. I plead you not guilty and the charges are dropped.”

“Thank you,” Angela smiled. Her body sagged back into the chair.

“Aggie,” Jimmy went to the door and called. She looked up from the living room sofa but didn’t move. “Will you come join us?”

She turned her back and sat still. Jimmy walked into the living room.

“My relationship with your sister is separate from my relationship with you,” he explained from the seat beside her. “Just like my relationship with your father.”

“Do we have a relationship?” she asked.

Jimmy smiled and kissed her forehead.

“Come into the library.”

She stood and walked back through the lobby ahead of him.

“Here’s my offer.” Jimmy stood before the two seated twins. “Aggie will finished out the last three nights of the contract with me. I will give you the hundred-twenty thousand dollars to split however you want between you.”

“It’s that simple?” Angela asked.

“That’s it?” Aggie added.

Jimmy nodded to them both.

“Three more nights.”

“Tomorrow is Christmas,” Aggie reminded him.

“We’ll celebrate.”

“Excuse me,” Angela interrupted. She looked down at the floor, then she lifted her chin and continued. “Was that one hundred-twenty thousand in American or Canadian money?”

Jimmy chuckled.

“The ad was in a U.S. newspaper,” she reminded him.

“You’ll make a good attorney,” he complimented her. “The money will be in U.S. currency.”

“Well, I’m leaving,” she smiled and stood.

“I’m coming too,” Aggie announced.

“What about…” Angela began.

“It’s okay,” Jimmy interrupted. “I understand. It’s been a long evening.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Aggie promised.

Jimmy led the twins back to the lobby and helped them into their coats, pulling his on as well.

“No need to pretend with a cab anymore,” he commented.

He escorted them down to the lobby and out the door. The three walked the short blocks along the waterfront back to the Sylvia, where Angela said goodnight and slipped inside. Ignoring the passersby, Jimmy pulled Aggie into his arms and squeezed.

“It’s midnight,” he told her with a hard kiss onto closed lips.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Be ready to celebrate,” he whispered in her ear. Then he tipped up her chin and gave her a preview. It would be a merry Christmas indeed.

Chapter 24

Aggie spent Christmas morning with her family and Andrew. She and Angela had bought each other identical presents, a red silk nightgown and robe. They laughed when they opened them, and explained to Andrew and Mary that it had happened before. That evening the older Trouts took Andrew and Angela out for Christmas dinner while Aggie went to Jimmy’s. Her father and Mary obviously thought the personal ad romance was sailing smoothly. But they didn’t know about the money.

Aggie thought about little else. One hundred-twenty thousand dollars. Jimmy was paying her ten thousand dollars a night to have sex with him. He knew, he must know, that she would be happier if the money hadn’t been offered, hadn’t been taken. But it had. And Angela needed the money. Aggie thrust aside the ugly image that arose in her mind. Her alternatives seemed to be Jimmy and money, or no Jimmy and no money. She wanted Jimmy.

She had gone out the day before looking for a Christmas gift for him. What could she get a man who could blow off, literally, a hundred thousand dollars? The search was hopeless. Finally she made a phone call to a friend in Cincinnati. With luck, the gift would arrive at Jimmy’s by special messenger tonight.

She dressed in festive red and green, red pants and a green and red striped tunic blouse. She felt foolish but hoped the clothes would brighten her mood. Jimmy had promised they would celebrate and she didn’t intend to disappoint him. She twirled in front of the mirror and smiled. She looked like an elf, a very tall elf.

Aggie decided to walk the short blocks to Jimmy’s apartment. Her cheeks and nose were freezing by the time she entered the lobby of the building and Jimmy’s arms. He hugged her tight and then hurried her upstairs to the warmth of the apartment. When she took off her coat, he laughed and hugged her again, calling her his little elf. Aggie’s spirits rose as the minutes passed in Jimmy’s presence. By the time they finished a sumptuous turkey dinner complete with flaming Christmas pudding, Aggie had forgotten about the money. She was with the man she loved and that was all that mattered.

The buzzer rang while Jimmy was in the kitchen getting them coffee, so Aggie pushed the release button for the elevator. She hoped her package for Jimmy had arrived. It had. She thanked and tipped the messenger and carried the parcel into the living room. Jimmy met her with their coffees.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Merry Christmas,” she smiled as she handed him the package.

“What’s this?’

“Open it,” she prodded, then added, “I couldn’t think what to get you.”

Aggie watched as Jimmy carefully peeled off the tape and folded back the cardboard. The item inside was wrapped in tissue.

“I made it when I was in grade ten,” she explained. “I hope you like it.”

“I love it,” Jimmy answered as he held up an elongated clay figure.

“I thought it looked a little like that statue you have in the library.”

“The Giacometti?”

“I guess. Is that really a Giacometti?”

Jimmy nodded. “And now I have a Trout.”

Aggie laughed. “It’s kind of a cross between Gumby and a self-portrait.”

“I recognized you instantly,” Jimmy said with a straight face. “I love it.”

“Merry Christmas,” Aggie smiled.

Jimmy kissed first the statue and then her. Then he set the figure carefully on the coffee table and left the room.

“I got you something too,” he explained as he returned holding a large box.

Aggie grinned and took the box onto her lap.

“I love presents,” she told him. “This is heavy.”

“Open it.”

Aggie untie the bows and slid her finger under the tape, carefully preserving each piece. Jimmy waited patiently through the several minute procedure.

“I like the anticipation,” Aggie explained. “Once the present is open, it’s done. Oh!”

She lifted the lid off the inner box.

“It’s a Samuel Johnson!” She recognized the ornate lettering on the cover of the book immediately. She wrapped her arms around Jimmy’s throat. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I guess you like it.” He cleared his throat as she lifted the top volume out of the box.

“There’s another one,” she commented.

“It’s a three volume set. The closest I could get to the original print date.”

“It’s wonderful!” Aggie exclaimed again. She had never gotten such a valuable gift or such a carefully appropriate one. “You’re wonderful!”

Jimmy lifted the box off her lap and put it beside the statue on the table. Then he stood and picked Aggie up in his arms. Aggie snuggled in without comment as they made their way to the bedroom. In mutual though unexpressed deference to the religious holiday, Aggie and Jimmy made love in the missionary position. Vigorously, with gusto, but still missionary. They both eventually fell into an exhauseted slumber for several hours. The sun was just coming up when Aggie awoke. She kissed Jimmy on the lips.

“It’s not Christmas any more,” she whispered and tickled his ear with her tongue.

He roused and aroused quickly. Jimmy told her that December 26 was called Boxing Day in Canada and suited his actions to the words. After a hearty pillow fight, they tangled in less orthodox positions for the next hour or two. Finally Aggie left to go back to her family at the Sylvia.

By the time she arrived, Andrew had blessedly, finally gone. He left a note explaining that he had to get back to Cincinnati to pack up his things and resign from the university. He was eager to take up his new job working on the x99B nanochip. He thanked Aggie for their months together and hoped she wasn’t too upset that he had left. Angela couldn’t stop laughing as she read the note to her twin. While Aggie was glad he had gone and was out of her life, she felt a little residual sadness. Andrew had been a nice boy.

The sisters spent the day with their father and Mary, who were leaving early the following morning. Their father informed them over lunch that he had phoned Jimmy and invited him to dine with them that evening. Aggie’s emotions on hearing the news were confused. Being with Jimmy and her family was a mixed blessing. When he vanished from her life in two days, the family togetherness would eventually become a pleasant memory she supposed. Right now it was a painful vision of things that were not to be.

Dinner passed in animated conversation. Aggie was quieter than usual, but no one commented. As they left the restaurant, she pulled Jimmy back to walk beside her.

“Do you want me to come back with you to the apartment?” she asked.

“What do you want?”

Aggie thought for a moment then answered honestly.

“I’m feeling emotional tonight. Dad and Mary are leaving tomorrow. I know there’s the contract…”

“Screw the contract,” Jimmy growled. “What do you want?”

“I want to go back with them,” Aggie admitted. “We’ll be together tomorrow night.”

“Our twelfth night,” Jimmy commented.

“Yes,” Aggie agreed. She knew her eyes were filling with tears, but she couldn’t stop them. Let him see her cry.

Jimmy kissed each eyelid, leaving the tears to streak down her cheeks.

“Go with your family,” he said and patted her on the bum. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Aggie walked numbly after her father and Mary and Angela, leaving Jimmy standing on the sidewalk. About a block away she turned and looked. He was still there, watching. He lifted his hand and waved.

The family said their goodbyes that night at the hotel. The next morning Aggie and Angela by unspoken twin consent both slept in till noon. They went out for a quiet lunch then wandered back to the hotel. Aggie buried herself in a book while Angela watched mindless television. Aggie knew Angela was depressed by Richard’s non-appearance, but her own coming disappointment overshadowed her thoughts and prevented her from offering comfort to her twin. At 5:30 she dressed haphazardly and left the apartment.

She had decided to walk to Jimmy’s again and she found her spirits comforted slightly by the brisk wind and the salty tang in the air. The day had been dreary but the sky lightened as dusk fell. Perhaps it would be a clear night.

Jimmy wasn’t waiting in the lobby of the apartment. Aggie hesitated then entered and pressed the buzzer for the elevator. As she ascended she wondered what was wrong. The doors opened to reveal an empty and dark lobby.

“I’m in here,” Jimmy’s voice called out from the living room and stifled the worst of her fears.

She shrugged out of her coat and walked toward his voice. He sat on the sofa in darkness with a drink in his hand.

“Are you all right?” she asked as she slipped in at his side, her own worries forgotten in her concern for him. He draped his arm over her shoulder.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Then Jimmy put his drink down on the coffee table and turned to face her, his hands on her shoulders holding her away from his body.

“I don’t want to let you go, Aggie,” he said seriously.

“I don’t want to go.”

“I know it’s asking a lot,” Jimmy ignored her words. “Your family is in Alabama. This is a foreign country.”

“I’d have to learn a new national anthem,” Aggie agreed. She leaned forward into his arms. “I was afraid tonight was going to be our last night. I was so unhappy.”

“You’ll have to marry me,” Jimmy whispered into her hair.

Marriage?

“Can’t we just live together?” Aggie asked. Marriage?

Jimmy tipped up her chin and teased her lips with his tongue.

“Marry me,” he repeated.

Aggie swallowed.

“Do you want children?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jimmy admitted. “Lots. Is that a problem?”

Aggie shook her head, relieved.

“What else do we need to discuss?” Jimmy continued stroking Aggie’s lips with his tongue as he spoke. She pulled back her head.

“Can I get a job here? Will they let me work?”

“If you marry me,” Jimmy teased. “You can get dual citizenship. Then you can work in both countries.”

“Do you mind if I work?”

“Mind? Hell no. We’ll need your salary to help with expenses.”

Suddenly Jimmy turned serious. His fingers left Aggie’s cheek and he held both her hands in his.

“Being wealthy can be a real pain sometimes,” he admitted. “You should think about it.”

“How rich are you?”

“About half a billion,” Jimmy admitted.

Aggie swallowed.

“That’s a lot of money. Are you safe?”

“You mean kidnappers?” Jimmy answered seriously. “I try to keep a relatively low profile.”

“This is weird,” Aggie commented. “I never thought about being really rich.”

“It has its benefits,” Jimmy offered.

Aggie smiled. They were sitting in one of the benefits right now.

“I could shop,” she smiled.

Jimmy nodded.

“We could go skiing in Gstaad.”

“That we could.”

“This could be fun,” Aggie admitted.

“Then you’re saying yes?” Jimmy asked. “A serious yes?”

“There’s one thing you haven’t said.”

“That I love you?” Jimmy laughed. “I forgot. Yes, I love you, Aggie.”

“Then the answer is yes, an unqualified yes.”

“And…,” Jimmy prompted.

“And I love you too. I have a confession to make.”

“What?”

“I think I fell in love with you at lunch the first day.”

“I fell in lust. I’m not sure when it turned into love. Maybe when I realized that I couldn’t let you go back to Cincinnati.”

“I have to go back and pack up my things. And resign my job.”

“We’ll go together,” Jimmy stated. “For now, we’re making an overdue trip to the bedroom.”

He picked Aggie up and carried her at a bumpy dogtrot through the lobby and into the bedroom where he threw her onto the circular bed.

“Open the skylight,” Aggie suggested.

Jimmy pushed a button and the cover retracted revealing a star strewn sky.

“The weather cleared up,” Jimmy commented.

“Everything cleared up,” Aggie added. “I’m ready for a preview of the wedding night, Mr. Buko.”

“I’m yours to command, Mrs. Buko.” Jimmy began to strip.

“Mrs. Trout-Buko?” Aggie tried and laughed. “I sound like a disease.”

She lowered her voice and intoned, “I’m sorry. The patient died of Trout-Buko syndrome.”

“The patient is going to die of an attack of Buko if she doesn’t get her clothes off.”

“How about Beaucoup-Trout?” Aggie giggled on the bed making no effort to undress. “We could be a menu item.”

Jimmy removed Aggie’s shoes.

“Bu-Trout-Ko?” she giggled.

“It could be worse,” he commented as he slid her pants and panties down her legs and off her feet.

“How?”

“My grandfather was Victor Ivanovna Bukolokovitch.”

“Bukolo…” Aggie struggled.

“Bukolokovich,” Jimmy laughed.

He pulled the tunic over her head. He unhooked her bra and wrapped it around her head in an ineffective muzzle. He spread her legs and lowered himself between them.

“Bukoloko…?” Aggie mumbled then her giggles turned into a moan as Jimmy rammed himself ungently inside her. She arched up into his hips to pull him deeper, all levity lost in a rapid swirl of deeper emotion. He rammed again and again in slow demanding rhythm, deeper and deeper. Aggie pulled the gag from her mouth.

“Is this what I can expect when we’re married?” she gasped.

“Yes,” Jimmy growled as he jack-hammered into her.

“Good,” Aggie groaned and arched as his cock found a sensitive corner. She leaned up and sank her teeth into his shoulder. Jimmy grunted and she felt him grow inside her and the pace of the pumping increased. She sucked and bit a hickey into his muscle and it hardened beneath her teeth as he swelled inside her.

The pounding was too rapid for thought now and Aggie relaxed her jaw and leaned back her head and let the current flow through her as the trembling precursor to climax grew in her belly. She tightened her vagina around Jimmy’s cock, trying to hold him somehow in place like trying to bridle a bucking stallion and then they met in the arena and the pounding of the horses’ hooves became the pounding of their hearts galloping in unison.

“I’m not done yet,” Aggie panted as Jimmy collapsed on her chest.

“Neither am I,” he gasped.

“I thought of something,” Aggie gasped. “I can’t remember…”

“Shh,” Jimmy begged. “Let’s catch our breath.”

Slowly their breathing deepened. Jimmy rolled off Aggie’s chest and they lay side by side.

“We didn’t use a condom,” Aggie found the thought.

“Do you think we made a baby?” Jimmy sighed.

Aggie counted for a moment.

“I don’t think so,” she answered. “Maybe we should try again.”

Jimmy pulled her to him and purred in her ear. “I want to make love to you in every room in the apartment. Tomorrow I want to smell you in the library and the kitchen and the dining room.”

“Library…” Aggie murmured as Jimmy nuzzled.

Ten minutes later their naked bodies stood by the library desk, poring over a book of ancient Greek statuary.

“Do you think that can actually be done?” Aggie asked.

Jimmy shrugged. “Maybe. Do you want to try?”

Aggie studied the angles of the bodies in the photograph.

“There are only two of us,” she commented. “Where’s your box of goodies?”

“Box?” Jimmy protested. “What box?”

“You have a box, big boy,” Aggie insisted. “Haul it out.”

Jimmy pulled the shelf ladder to the end of one wall. He climbed up and brought down an oblong plastic container.

“Fishing tackle,” Aggie laughed. She lifted the lid. Inside were dildoes and nipple clamps, handcuffs and paddles. She looked at Jimmy with raised eyebrows.

“Semper paratus…” he responded with a smile.

“Always prepared,” she echoed. “Classically appropriate.”

She selected two dildoes, a tube of grease and a strip of condoms. She went back to the photo.

“This is a menage a quatre.”

“You and me and two dildoes?” Jimmy asked. “Wait a minute…”

“Have you ever…?”

“No.”

“Do you hate the idea?”

Jimmy squirmed then grinned as his rising penis answered for him. “Let’s try it.”

Aggie positioned Jimmy behind a large overstuffed chair. She handed him a greased and condomed dildo and grasped the other in her left hand. She lifted her right leg to sit bent on the back of the chair.

“Which do you think we ought to do first?” she asked.

“Me inside you,” Jimmy answered promptly.

He lifted her slightly and positioned her slit above his rigid penis. Aggie slid down onto his shaft with a sigh. Jimmy pumped experimentally and she felt her vagina tighten in response.

“Maybe we should just…” she offered.

“No,” Jimmy stopped her. “Put it in me.”

Jimmy wrapped his right leg around her, opening himself to her. He held her steady as Aggie reached around her lover and parted his buttocks with both hands.

“I’m not sure…”

“It’s okay.”

He bent forward slightly to give her better access. Aggie gripped the dildo hard and pressed the tip against his anal opening. He grunted as the rigid shaft slid inside. Aggie pushed harder and his penis grew inside her. She had the absurd sense that she was pushing his penis into her vagina, rather than a dildo into his rear. Jimmy was panting. They stood motionless for several seconds.

“Your turn,” Jimmy grunted. “Hold onto the chair.”

His hands parted Aggie’s rear and the shaft, she had stupidly given him the larger one, pressed against her. Aggie stiffened as the hard slick tip entered her anus. Her nails dug into the leather chair back as her other hand struggled to hold the dildo steady in Jimmy’s rear. She realized a moment later that her concentration had dulled the pain of entry; the dildo was fully engulfed.

“Now what?” she gasped.

Jimmy began to move inside her. He held the dildo firmly to her rear and the motion and the stiffness were an exquisite agony. Her left hand relaxed and the dildo slid a scant inch outwards in Jimmy’s backside. She pushed it back in, and he plunged into her with unaccustomed force. Aggie pulled the dildo out a fraction and pushed it back in. Jimmy again slammed into her. She could control his motion and she did. The in-thrust pushed her to within touch of orgasm and she teased herself and him. In and out, grunt and moan, she orchestrated his pumping and her almost-coming.

Then his thrusting grew purposeful and his organ grew again inside her. The next near-orgasm became the real thing and she cried out as her senses shattered. All she could do now was hold on. The motion rolled over and through her, again and again, shuddering waves of emotion and sensation. Jimmy cushioned their fall to the floor with his arms. The dildoes slipped from uncaring rears and still Jimmy pounded inside her. Insistent and relentless, he pursued her up peak after peak, as she cried out in forfeit and release.

At last he was still. He cradled her in his arms on the hard floor, held her until her trembling subsided. At last her breath returned.

“Did you come?” she whispered, sure she knew the answer.

“Three times,” he admitted or boasted.

“Three times?”

“Was it too much?” he asked, his voice unsure as he stroked her temple.

No,” Aggie reassured him. “It was perfect. You were perfect. Three times?”

Jimmy chuckled as Aggie sighed and snuggled into his warmth.

“Maybe we’ll have triplets,” she murmured as she drifted to sleep.

Chapter 25

Angela had begun to wonder whether she was manic-depressive. Her moods swung from elation — she would be rich, she would start her life over, she was still young, she was beautiful; to despair — she was tainted, she was a criminal, no man (substitute Richard) would ever love her, she was getting old and turning ugly. December 27th , the twelfth day of the contract, found her at the grim end of the pendulum.

She slept in as long as she could, hoping to avoid her slightly happier twin. She knew Aggie was unhappy about the money. Her twin was worried that she wouldn’t see Jimmy again after tonight. Angela could read a man’s eyes fairly accurately and she knew Jimmy wouldn’t let her sister disappear from his life. She wasn’t sure what kind of offer he would make, but knew it would be generous. And Aggie had the daily satisfaction of great sex with a man she adored. Angela knew her discontent was indefensible, but whenever she saw Aggie the green worm turned in her stomach.

After Aggie left Angela couldn’t stand to sit alone in the quiet hotel room. She pulled on jeans and a bulky black sweater, encased her feet in heavy boots and her hands in warm mittens. Feeling like a real Canadian, she crammed a Vancouver Canucks toque her father had bought her onto her head and walked out into the night. She had no conscious destination. She walked along the waterfront in the opposite direction from Jimmy’s apartment, past the deserted sandy beach and through a grassy park. She ended up below a bridge and decided to turn and follow the road it carried back into downtown.

Angela saw by the first street sign that she was on Burrard, a major thoroughfare. The weather didn’t seem to intimidate Vancouverites. Even on a chilly damp Saturday night, the streets were clogged with cars and the sidewalks with pedestrians. Angela felt safe and anonymous as she huddled into her coat and walked slowly uphill toward the center of downtown.

Small white Christmas lights glittered like stars in the dozens of trees around the Vancouver Art Gallery and down to the courthouse. Angela smiled thinking that the city would always have a white Christmas. Late shoppers hurried along laden with post-Christmas bargains. A men in a business suit talked on a cell phone as he strode past. Two women clutching briefcases hovered on a street corner, waiting impatiently for a green light. The work week never ended for some.

Angela acknowledged her unconscious destination about a block before the building loomed into view. The massive green roof was gray in the near gloom of urban night, but she recognized the gaping tunnel that was the taxi entrance to the Vancouver Hotel. She walked across the entrance road and around the corner to the front of the building. Though her body was toasty warm, her face was cold. She decided to treat herself to tea in the most elegant dining room the hotel offered. She hoped they wouldn’t turn her lumberjack persona away.

She pushed her way through the heavy glass double doored entry. The interior of the vast lobby was softly lit and warmly inviting, dotted with conversation groups of richly upholstered sofas and chairs. She didn’t notice the tall businessman seated across the room until he rose and began to walk toward her. It was Richard. Angela thought for an instant that he hadn’t recognized her, that his approach was random, that an encounter would be unwelcome and awkward. Her eyes darted for an escape route.

As if sensing her impulse to flee Richard quickened his pace, and Angela knew he wanted to meet her, to talk to her. Relief flooded into her bones and her face flushed from alabaster to peach. She snatched the stocking cap off her head and ran her fingers through her tousled hair. She must look a disaster.

“Hi.” Richard’s approach was simple and direct.

“Hi, Richard.” Angela held out her hand. “I’m Angela.”

“I know.”

He hesitated for one second and Angela pulled her hand behind her back just as he lifted his. He stood waiting with his hand outstretched and eventually Angela swung her sweating palm into his. He squeezed tight and held on a fraction too long. He took a deep breath.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” he offered.

“I was going to have tea.”

“I can buy tea too,” Richard smiled.

He must have taken her comment for assent, because he placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her through the lobby and into the coffee shop. The name was a misnomer, for the room was more elegant than most three star restaurants. Richard asked for a table by a window and they sat facing each other across a narrow expanse of crisp white linen.

“How have you been?” Richard asked.

“Fine,” Angela lied. Then she realized, it was time to stop lying. She began again. “No, I haven’t been fine.”

Richard waited.

“I don’t know why you’re even willing to talk to me,” Angela said defiantly, staring into his eyes.

The waiter interrupted them and Richard ordered tea and a sandwich tray. It seemed the order was for them both, for the waiter bowed and left silently. He seemed to take her defiance with him.

“How much do you know?” she asked with a sigh.

“I think I know everything,” Richard responded.

She wished he would at least smile, give her some indication where they stood.

“You know I was a prostitute in New York?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“And…?”

Now it was Angela’s turn to wait. Richard sat silently looking at her for several moments. The waiter brought a pot of tea and two fragile china cups and saucers. He poured them each a cup.

“I’ll bring your sandwiches as soon as they are ready, sir.” He almost bowed and then disappeared, leaving silence behind him at the table.

“It’s hard to believe, seeing you looking like a relic from the northern territories,” Richard finally spoke.

If he wanted her to make excuses, to deny, he would be disappointed.

“It’s true,” Angela said flatly. Can you deal with it? The challenge was unspoken but clearly understood.

“My mind keeps picturing,” Richard explained without finishing his sentence.

“Don’t.” Angela reached across the table and patted his hand. She was being unfair. No man should be asked to accept that the woman he wanted had been a prostitute. “Let’s just enjoy our tea and then I’ll leave. I know the whole situation is impossible for you.”

Richard looked both relieved and anguished. He took a gulp of tea and must have burned his mouth. He choked and grabbed his water glass.

“Sorry,” he sputtered at last. The word held a multitude of meanings.

“Did you spend a pleasant Christmas?” Angela turned the subject into neutral territory.

“No.” Richard didn’t follow her lead. “Angela, I…”

She waited for him to continue but he stared instead at the teacup as though it held the wisdom of the universe.

“What is it, Richard?” she prompted.

“I’ve done worse than you’ve ever contemplated,” Richard blurted.

“What?”

“I’m not the upstanding citizen you think, Angela.”

“What could you possibly have done?” Angela was incredulous.

“When I was in my final year of law school, I got drunk and drove. I hit a lamppost; my girlfriend was almost killed.”

“My God,” Angela breathed. She reached across the table for Richard’s hand.

“She rejected me. I wanted to take care of her, but she wouldn’t let me near her.”

“Has she ever forgiven you?”

“She has; her family hasn’t.”

“Have you forgiven yourself?” Angela asked the more important question.

Richard’s smile was thin; his answer, silence. Angela rubbed his knuckles.

“I can never practice law,” he continued, his hand a clenched fist in hers.

“Jimmy calls you his lawyer.”

“He rescued me. Hired me to be his assistant.”

“What happened to the woman?”

“She’s in a wheelchair. Jimmy hired her too. She manages a data processing division in Kamloops. She’s married now, with two kids.”

“She sounds like quite a woman.”

“She is.”

“My God, Richard,” Angela whispered. “I’m stunned. How many years ago did this happen.”

“Eight years this March.”

“You’re very brave.”

“Me?” Richard snorted.

“You made a mistake, a big mistake, but you’ve moved beyond it. You’re doing something good with your life.”

Richard looked up into Angela’s eyes. She held his gaze steadily then took a deep breath.

“Did you know I tried to steal Jimmy’s Giacometti?” she asked.

Richard looked stunned. He hadn’t known. Angela feared she had killed whatever fragile understanding they had reached.

Then Richard grinned. “A hundred twenty thousand wasn’t enough?”

“I thought the contract was off, that I wouldn’t get paid.”

“Woman,” he chuckled, “You have balls.”

“Actually,” Angela smiled tentatively, “I don’t.”

“Praise the lord.” Richard imitated a southern Baptist preacher and Angela’s smile widened.

“You’re okay that I almost became a major felony criminal, but you can’t accept prostitution?” she teased.

Richard’s face turned serious. Had she gone too far? Maybe some topics were better buried.

“They aren’t the same thing,” Richard said almost sadly. “Hell, I am a felon, but…”

“Forget I said it,’ Angela apologized. “I’m a screw up.”

“It’s a hard thing for a man to accept,” Richard continued.

“I know that,” Angela agreed. “But it’s in the past.”

Angela made a sudden decision, one that she knew to the bottom of her toes was right.

“I’m not taking the money, Richard.”

“What?”

He was watching the approaching waiter and seemed not to have heard her words. She could still back out, still be rich and comfortable,… still watch every word to hide the wealth from her father, still feel her twin’s anguish at her part in its acquisition.

“I’m not taking the money,” she repeated more loudly. “I stopped being a prostitute two months ago. It’s a lot of money but the same principle.”

Richard looked troubled.

“Don’t refuse the money because of me.”

“I’m not. The past is the past,” she repeated. “I realize that now. I’m looking forward, not behind any more. Will you come with me?”

The waiter brought a tray loaded with tiny triangular sandwiches. Richard looked across the mound of cucumber and tuna and prosciutto delicacies and into her eyes.

“Yes.”

The food and the waiter and the restaurant disappeared. Richard’s answer spoke directly to Angela’s heart. A Shakespearean love sonnet wouldn’t have been more welcome. Angela sighed and her eyes glazed with tears and her stomach rumbled all at the same time. Richard seemed to sense her emotional fragility. He picked up a tiny triangle in his long fingers and offered it to her.

“Was that a stomach growl I just heard,” he teased, “or are we having an earthquake?”

Angela took a bite of the sandwich from Richard’s hand. As she chewed, the atmosphere turned steamy. Richard finished the sandwich in one bite.

“The Queen Anne suite upstairs is still yours,” he said as though commenting on the weather.

“I’ve never seen it,” Angela responded, her voice equally cool.

Richard raised a hand and signaled their waiter, who hurried to the table.

“Pack these to go,” Richard requested. He handed the man a credit card.

Five minutes later they were in the elevator, the neatly wrapped cardboard box dangling from Angela’s finger by a string. Richard held an ornate silver tray with the teapot and cups. Once he had known their destination in the hotel, the waiter had insisted they not miss their beverage. It was a tribute to Canadian respect for privacy that no one in the lobby or elevator stared. Maybe they thought the pair were actors filming in Vancouver. Gwyneth Paltrow and… one of the Baldwins?

As they walked down the muted carpet of the fourth floor hallway, Angela dug her wallet out of the back pocket of her jeans. The almost forgotten key card was tucked in a side panel. She slid the card in the door and held it open for the laden Richard. Angela gazed around the elegant room as Richard put the tray on the dining room table. The suite was like a miniature apartment with a spacious antique-filled living room and a beautifully appointed dining area. Richard took the box from Angela’s fingers and set it on the table beside the tray. Then he returned and tucked her chin between two fingers.

“You can close your mouth,” he commented, pushing up gently. “Nice suite, eh?”

Angela slid his hand to cup her cheek.

“Yes, it is a nice suite, eh. Does it have a nice bedroom?”

“Let’s look.”

They walked hand in hand across the living room and straight to the bed in the adjoining room. Then Richard kissed Angela. His lips caressed and his tongue demanded. Her body and heart responded. Several moments later she leaned back from the embrace.

“Did you notice if it’s a nice room?” she teased.

“Any room with you and a bed is a nice room.”

Richard lowered his mouth over Angela’s again and this time she didn’t interrupt him. His tongue scraped along the roof of her mouth and Angela sucked it deeper. Richard pressed her hips to his throbbing groin, his fingers digging into her through the heavy jeans. Then he slid his hands inside the cloth to bare skin. His mouth stayed locked to hers as they staggered together the remaining steps to the bed, even as they tumbled to lie tangled on the cover.

Angela pulled the sweater off her arms and up toward her neck. She wrenched her mouth from Richard’s long enough to pull the bulky material over her head. His hands moved from hips to breasts and clung and pressed and clawed through the flimsy bra. It ripped and he completed the destruction and flung it behind him. Angela moaned as his hands returned to stroke and pummel her and he stopped her breath with his mouth.

She struggled with his tie and jacket and shirt as he singlemindedly focused on her mouth and nipples, driving her beyond thought to primal need. She fought the clothes off him in a frenzy, ripping cloth with her nails and occasionally scratching skin. At last they were both nude and Angela’s need for contact peaked. She moaned in frustration when Richard’s mood abruptly changed.

From rutting buck, he turned into eager and curious puppy. He pushed her back on the bed and held her pinned with a leg across her hips when she tried to rise up and attack him. He sniffed and licked his way along her length from ear to armpits to bellybutton to knees to toes. Angela pushed his head toward her crotch but he pulled back and rolled her over. She groaned when he began his exploration again at the top and worked his way slowly, agonizingly erotically down, this time with nips and occasional bites to mark his progress.

By the time he reached her feet, Angela was dripping with sweaty anticipation and inner moisture. She rolled onto her back and held out her arms. Richard took them and placed them behind her neck.

“Would you like me to tie you?”

She shook her head.

“Don’t move,” he cautioned.

His command was hard to obey. He spread her legs and lowered his head to her crotch. He began again with puppy-like sniffs and licks. Angela giggled. Then he placed his hands on her open thighs and pressed her into the bed. He latched his mouth to her like a suction hose and Angela’s giggles turned to a cry of surprise at the sharp ache, then swiftly metamorphosed to a wordless moan of encouragement. His tongue and lips and teeth found the keys to her hidden compartments. Her legs fought against the pressure of his hands as her hips sought the release of pumping. The restraint was gas on a bonfire and she came in a violent upheaval of shaking and screams.

“Come inside me,” she yelled. “Come inside me right now!”

Richard lifted off her and she whimpered in frustration. Nothing happened for several seconds. Then she heard the rip of a condom wrapper. The bed shifted with his weight as he rejoined her and Angela lifted blind arms to him. He was above her now and Angela braced herself for a hard swift, almost brutal thrust. Instead he lowered himself slowly and his fingers teased open her portals. Then the tip of him touched her. Her orgasm came with the touch, so fast there was no buildup, no warning. So violent her hips thrust up and pulled him inside her with all the swiftness she had expected from him.

His pumping began immediately, matching then leading the throbbing of her lingering climax. She came again as he pumped and her fingers gouged into his shoulders and her heels pressed into his hips and held him fast from above. The orgasm jarred their emerging rhythm and when it resumed it was faster, more urgent. Noises arose from Angela’s chest and reverberated in the air over the bed. Her ululation mingled with Richard’s grunts and the sweat from their straining bodies slapped and slurped, adding to the cacophony.

Richard’s organ grew again inside Angela and she knew in a primal knowing that he was near orgasm. She undulated with his rhythm and clenched him with her muscles. She coached and guided and spurred and whipped them both toward the approaching peak until they were pounding past reckoning, past thought and reason. They leapt together off the cliff toward nothing, toward everything, toward each other.

Then she was crying, not gentle ladylike tears but great gusting sobs that welled from her chest and burst from lips and eyes. Richard held her tight, his chest heaving, his face buried in her shoulder. Still the sobs pressed up and out of Angela’s lungs, out of her heart. Sobs for the aimless underachieving older twin, the beautiful disappointment, the prostitute who hated herself, the swindler, the thief.

“I love you.”

The words reached her ear in a thread. She didn’t believe them.

“I love you,” Richard repeated. “I love Angela Trout.”

Slowly Angela’s sobs lost their intensity. She cried now for letting go of the past, for the strength to embrace an uncertain future. She remembered her words to Richard in the restaurant. The past was the past. He had succeeded. He would help her. It was time to let go.

“I love you,” Richard reminded her again.

Angela scrubbed her eyes open with the back of her hand. Her nose was dripping, her hair drenched in sweat, her eyes puffed almost to slits. She had never looked worse. She looked into Richard’s eyes and smiled.

“I love you, too.”

-

Section of Society Column in The Vancouver Sun, January 3, 1998

Another big one has bitten the dust, ladies, as Vancouver’s most reclusive bachelor millionaire was seen yesterday with a ring on his finger, or was that through his nose? In a private ceremony, an ebullient Jimmy Buko wed the eye—catching Agnes Trout of Auburn, Alabama.

Word is Buko has decided to endow the library of the new University of the Fraser Valley, and his wife of three days, a former librarian, will supervise the design of the building and the acquisition of the holdings. The new library…

Announcement in The Vancouver Sun, December 18, 2001

Gordon and Mary Trout of Auburn, Alabama, are pleased to announce the marriage of his daughter Dr. Angela Beth Trout to Richard James Urbano of Vancouver. The bride recently received her Ph.D. in art history from the University of British Columbia. The couple left for an extended honeymoon…

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Praise for Carole Remy’s Erotic Romance Novels

Beauty of the Beast

“Awesome, sexy, and entertaining… This hidden gem of a book makes me want to read more of Carole Remy’s work. I could not put it down.”

Fantasy Impromptu

“There is real craft here, a real story… As fine a piece of erotica as I’ve read.”

Copyright

Twelve Nights

Illustrations at Pinterest.com/caroleremybooks/

Copyright ©2001 by Carole Remy

Copyright ©2013 by Carole Remy

Cover photo © by Olga Ekaterincheva. Used under license from Shutterstock.com

Cover design by Marissa Lepe Preciado

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PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Content

Carole Remy
TWELVE NIGHTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

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Erotic romances by Carole Remy

Praise for Carole Remy’s Erotic Romance Novels

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