Charlie's Angel (MF, rom) When the phone rang in my hotel room, I looked at my watch, as is my custom. Half past eight in the evening. "Hello?" "Charlie?" Her voice had a light vibrato. It sounded to me like a golden bell. "Yes?" "A couple of questions." "Go ahead." "Are you married?" "Widowed. Three years ago. Cancer," I responded. "Oh. I'm sorry." "No need. It was actually a blessed relief after the cancer. But, thank you." There was a pause. "Are you as nervous as I seem to be?" "Truth? Yes, a little." "I can't get last night out of my mind." It had been an interesting event. She in her room, catty cornered to mine, overlooking a triangular courtyard; the two of us separated by glass and about six feet of space. We had toasted one another, then shared the voyeurism of watching people going about their business below us. I had called her room afterward to say thank you for sharing the experience. She called back this evening. "An interesting interlude," I replied. "Never done that before." "Me, neither." Another long pause. She was making up her mind. "Charlie?" "Yes?" "Would you buy me a drink?" "Of course. In the bar? Or should I order a bottle and have them deliver?" She laughed. More of those golden bells rang gently across the line. "Let's start in the bar, okay? I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes." "I'll leave first. I open the curtains when I leave. That way we won't accidentally bump into each other up here," I suggested. "Thank you," she replied, and hung up. All I knew of her was that she was alone. And, that she was beautiful. And, those golden bells. Half my age, I thought, you foolish old man. I lifted off the bed and went to the bathroom. A quick shave with the electric razor, I thought. Rarely would I shave twice in a day. But, just in case. As the razor droned in my hand I continued the debate in my mind. She was young, by my standards. No more than thirty-five, certainly. And I was pushing sixty, hard. Just two more months. Still. Perhaps she just wants a flirtation. Well, that would be fine. Why then the question of marital status? All sorts of answers to that one. Fidelity, perhaps, experience. Certainly she couldn't have thought I was gay, not after last night. Could she? I examined my countenance in the mirror. Not bad for an old guy, I thought. Wrinkles certainly, a few; wisdom lines, I called them. And there, at the corners of my eyes, the pain of watching my wife die for two long years. But I'm at peace with that now. 'Thank you Eleanor, for 35 wonderful years. The two bad ones weren't your fault. Rest easy my dear. It's time for me to move on. A quick rinse with the mouthwash, and then out into the bedroom. I straightened my tie in the mirror, and grabbed my jacket from the chair. Maybe I should go ahead and get a drink down me to settle my nerves before she arrived. Yes. A good idea. Just before leaving I opened the curtains. The secret code, I thought, and laughed to myself. Sophomoric sort of humor. Striding through the sitting room, I checked my pocket to make sure I had my key card. Right where I had stuck it. A rose. The thought burst in my head as I closed the door quietly behind me. A single red rose. Just the right touch. I hope that florist off the lobby is still open. I punched the down button for the elevator. The wait seemed interminable. I really was half afraid she would come out of her room and we would be stuck on that elevator for the ride down. It would be uncomfortable. The bell dinged and the doors whooshed open. Finally. I breathed relief as the doors slid closed. There was a fair amount of traffic in the lobby. Piano music drifted from the bar. I walked quickly to the florist's little shop. The woman at the counter smiled as I approached. "You're still open, obviously," I said. "Yes, sir, until ten," she replied. "Can I get a single red rose, please?" "Yes, sir." She opened a cooler door and pulled out a single flower. "Will that be all?" "Yes, ma'am. Thank you." "Six fifty," she said. I handed her a ten. "Thank you." She pressed the change in my hand, along with the receipt. "Shall I wrap it? "No, thanks," I said. "I'll eat it here." She look stunned. I grinned widely. "Just kidding. Good evening." "Good night, sir," she said to my back as I hustled out the door. In the bar, I found a table where I could see the doorway. As I looked around I counted only seven people in the dimly lit lounge. Three couples were also at tables and a businessman sat at the bar. I ordered my drink and waited. Five minutes seems like an eternity when you're waiting. I finished my drink, but decided to wait before ordering another. I turned to watch the pianist, who played well, and, thankfully, did not sing. When I turned back, she was standing in the doorway. Her blond hair was loose and flowed gently down past her shoulders. She wore a red dress, high necked with a deep vee in the back. I was smitten. I stood as she approached the table. "I'm going to have to change my assessment," I remarked as I seated her. "How's that?" "From beautiful to stunning," I said. I held out the rose for her. "How thoughtful," she said, delicately holding it to her nose and inhaling the fragrance. The barmaid came to the table and we ordered. "So," I said, "don't tell me anything about yourself. I love the mystery." She smiled. "I'm in town on business. I live on the East coast." "And, we've already established," I proffered, "that you don't usually engage in mutual voyeurism?. Not your normal path of seduction." "Certainly not." "Until now," I said. "Are you seduced?" she asked, lightly. "Enchanted, my dear. Entranced. Captivated." "You old flatterer you," she said. Then very quickly added, "Oh, I'm sorry." "What? The part about 'old'? I'll take it in the manner it was intended. And, furthermore, she who speaks the truth is not a flatterer." "I don't think you're old," she said softly. "We call it 'seasoned'. Takes the sting out." "You're not old, Charlie," she insisted. "It's obvious to me you are vigorous." "Ahh. There's the rub!" I laughed. "Tell me about you," she instructed. "Too much mystery makes me nervous." "Well, I'm the not-quite retired chief managing officer of a production company. As I said, I'm widowed, with three grown children who have lives of their own. I live alone, and have a housekeeper who cleans up after me three days a week. What else?" "What do you do for entertainment?" "Oh, well, a little golf. Sail, when I get the chance. And, I fly my own airplane." "Do you really? Fly, I mean?" "Yes." "And where do you live?" "Greenwich. Connecticut. And, Bradenton Beach in Florida." She sipped her drink. "I think I like you, Charlie." This woman had a way of leaving me speechless. Her stunning good looks, and comments like her last left me feeling like an inept school boy. "I'm, uh, well, thank you, I think." "You want to know why, Charlie? You want to know why I think I like you?" "If you want to tell me," I replied. "You're a gentleman, Charlie. You know how few gentlemen I meet? You bought me a rose. You called me last night to say 'thank you.' You haven't pried into my life, but have been open with me. That's why I think I like you." "Now I'm the one who is flattered." We chatted on for several more minutes. What did my company produce? Widgets and thing-a-ma-bobs. Small parts for larger production machines. Where? Wallingford, Connecticut, in the heart of the industrial northeast. "Sign for the drinks, Charlie, and let's go." She picked up her rose and stood. I scrambled to my feet and went to the bar, to sign for the drinks. When I turned, she was silhouetted in the doorway, waiting. I offered her my arm as we crossed the lobby to the elevator bank. She slid her hand on my forearm and squeezed it gently. To be quite frank, my heart was racing. This astounding woman was completely in control of me. I would go where she told me, and do whatever she asked. "You want to go for a plane ride?" I offered. "Not tonight, Charlie," she said. "We'll save that for later." We walked into an open elevator and I placed my finger over the button to our floor, then looked at her. She nodded. I stabbed the button and the doors swished closed. We rode in silence as the car raced up the building. "Do you want to kiss me, Charlie?" she asked, so softly I could barely hear her. "Desperately." "Good. Anticipation is good for the hormones." "I see." What else could I say? When the elevator reached our floor, she preceded me out my door. She held out her hand for my key card and zipped the door open. I followed her in. "Should I order us something from the bar?" I asked. She set her purse down and placed the rose next to it. Then she turned to me. "I've got everything I want and need right here," she said. Then she placed her arms across my shoulders and pulled me into a kiss. Her warm lips melted into mine. I could feel her tongue probing. I opened my mouth and let her slide between my lips. Our tongues searched each other, savoring the texture and taste of one another. My hands caressed the skin of her back, exposed by the deep cut of her dress. I felt the smoothness of her skin, the warmth of her body. I pressed her to me, wanting to enfold her within me. She broke the kiss and snuggled her head on my shoulder. She whispered in my ear. "Last night made me so hot for you. I want you inside me, Charlie." She bit into my earlobe, gently, and tugged on it as she pulled away. I looked into her eyes, held her arms in my hands and kissed her, again. She shoved my jacket off my shoulders. I broke the kiss. "It will probably be faster if I do it," I said. She backed away a step and watched as I shed my clothes. Tie, shirt, T-shirt, shoes, socks, then my trousers. When I was down to me boxers, she smiled at me. "Boxers. I thought you would be boxers." She was leaning back against a table, her right leg cocked at an angle. I was amazed at how beautiful she looked. I walked to the closet and removed a hangar. "I love how you look in that red dress. I'd hate for it to get mussed." I held the hangar out to her. She smiled, straightened up, and reached behind her. The middle of the dress became loose. She slid the dress off her shoulders, down her body and stepped out of it. Then she held it out to me. "Do the honors," she said. Was I staring? I guess I was. She looked like a goddess. Her breasts stood firm on her lithe body. Her waist was narrow, her stomach flat. She wore a black garter belt, black stockings and her red heels. I took the dress from her hand and fitted it on the hangar as best I could. I took it to the closet and hung it up. "Another reassessment is in order," I said, as I returned to her. She cocked her head and looked at me, questioning. "From stunning to perfection." I took her in my arms again and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me to her. Then she pushed me backwards, gently, not allowing our lips to part. When the back of my knees hit the bed, I stopped. "Your boxers, Charlie," she urged. "Then get on the bed." As I lay there with this angel's head resting on my shoulder, her hand idling through the gray hairs on my chest, I wondered at the difference in her attitude now as compared to fifteen minutes ago. She had virtually pushed me down on the bed and climbed atop me. "Look," I protested, "I'm not really into this dom-sub thing." She put a pretty finger across my lips. "Shush," she said. "Neither am I. Just let me do this for you. For me. Okay?" How could I argue with that? "Okay." She replaced the finger on my lips with her mouth. . My mind was numb to thought. I just wanted to enjoy the experience. She rubbed herself against me. "How long has it been, Charlie?" she asked, breaking off the kiss. "Years, my dear. Years and years." When it was over, I held her very tightly to me until she pushed upwards away from me. She looked into my eyes. Both of us were panting. She leaned over and kissed me very lightly. She put her hands on either side of my head and smoothed the corners of my eyes. "That was great, Charlie. I knew it would be." She had rolled off me, and now lay with her head on my shoulder. I caressed her face and her hair. Occasionally, she would kiss my chest. "As much as I love laying here with you," she finally said, "I really need something to drink." She released my arm and I rolled off the bed. "Coming right up," I said. I walked into the bathroom and ran the water until it was warm. I dampened a washcloth and took one of the small hand towels and carried them back out to her. "Thank you," she said, with a touch of amusement. Then I padded off to the bar in the sitting room to make us drinks. I dropped ice in two glasses and filled them with water, then brought them back into the bedroom of the suite. She was naked when I returned, having removed the shoes, stockings and garter belt. "That red dress and those red shoes belong in a hall of fame," I joked, handing her the glass of ice water. I picked up the towel and washcloth and returned them to the bathroom. I rinsed the washcloth, freshened myself up, and returned to the bedroom. "Charlie," she asked, "would you mind terribly if I spent the night?" "I would consider it an honor," I replied. We turned back the bed covers and climbed in. She nestled comfortably next to me. "I have to leave tomorrow," she said. "Do you? I'm scheduled to leave tomorrow, as well." "Well, that's all right then," she whispered. I kissed her forehead, pulled her just a little closer. We drifted off to sleep. It must have been well after midnight when we made love. I don't know what woke me, but I realized at once there was a warm, soft body next to me. Her arm lay across my chest and her legs were wrapped around my thigh. I reached to caress her back. "I'm awake," she whispered. "I'd like to make love with you," I confessed. Her hand slid between us and captured my swollen member. "So I see," she said. I kissed her temple and traced the outline of her body with my hand. "You are truly and angel," I whispered. "Hardly that," she said. "You've made an old man feel young again." "You're not old, Charlie. You're distinguished." "Ah, yes. Distinguished." "And," she whispered into my neck, "you're great in bed." I rolled over her, taking my weight on my elbows and knees. I slid easily into her. "Are you always this aroused?" I asked. "Oh, I've been laying here awake for some minutes loving on you." A curious choice of words. "I see," I said. This was a very gentle session. We floated, our bodies melded together. Then, just the very smallest hint of a moan at the climax. "You know," I offered, "we seem to be pretty good together." "I think so. I think were wonderful together." She handed me a towel. "Where did that come from?" I asked. "I was up and roaming earlier. I collected it for just this occasion." "You are an amazing and wonderful woman," I said. "And you are a gentle and devastating man," she replied. She snuggled into me again and we drifted off to sleep in each other's arms. Old habits die hard. I awoke precisely at 5:30 a.m. I realized it would be 6:30 back on the East Coast, the time I had arisen for close to 35 years. The angel in my bed lay sleeping on her belly. Her golden hair was spread across the pillow. I rolled off the bed in the opposite direction. A sudden fear snapped at my gut. I grabbed the notepad next to the telephone and scribbled, "Please don't leave." I placed it atop the red shoes next to the bed, where I was certain she would see it. Tasting the staleness of the night before in my mouth, I went to the bathroom. As was my custom, I started the water in the shower, then brushed my teeth. I climbed into the shower and luxuriated in the warm, stinging spray. I tore open the packet of shampoo and lathered my head. A clean aroma, I noticed. Too often, these hotel shampoos were heavily perfumed. I checked the label, making a note that this would be a brand I would look for in the future. As I bathed, I consciously refused to either reflect or project on the relationship of the past twenty-four hours. After all, I reasoned, this could just be a zipless fuck for her. She had her life. I had mine. Wasn't a real relationship just too complicated for each of us? You're doing it, I thought. You're thinking about her. Damn it. What would I do if she was gone when I emerged from my shower. Should I call her? No. If she was gone I would let her go, grateful for the experience. It was a wonderful experience. Who had the right to expect more? Certainly not me. Stop doing this, damn it! Just take the damned shower and don't think! "Charlie?" My gut clutched. She was here, separated from me by only the shower curtain. "Yes?" "Where's your toothbrush?" What? My toothbrush? What the hell? "Uh, it's right there in the toilet kit." My toothbrush? Surely, not. I scrubbed my legs with the soap. The shower curtain swished open and she stepped in with me. "Good morning," I said. She reached up and took my wet face in her hands and kissed me. I'll be damned, I thought, recognizing the taste of my toothpaste in her kiss. "You need a shave," she said, lightly stroking my jaw. "I usually do that after my shower," I said. "What are you doing up so early?" "It's that time zone thing," she remarked. "Are you finished in here?" "Yes, I guess so." "Hand over the soap, then. Is there any shampoo?" "Yes. There in the packet. I only used a little." "Okay." She placed the soap in the holder and took up the shampoo packet. "Are you going to stand there and watch me, or get out and let me get cleaned up?" she asked. "I'm out," I said, rotating my shoulders under the spray in a final rinse, then stepping out onto the mat. I closed the curtain behind me. "Charlie," she called. "Don't go anywhere without me." "Back to bed?" I queried. "I was thinking more along the lines of breakfast." "Of course. Of course. I'll wait for you." What an idiot, I thought. She'd now think that sex was the only thing on my mind. Moron! I finished toweling off and walked out to the bedroom, taking my razor with me. Pulling a fresh set of boxers and a T-shirt from the drawer, I donned them, then stood in front of the full length mirror to shave. When I finished my shave, she emerged from the bathroom, naked except for the towel wrapped around her hair. "Charlie, I just have to go back to my room. My hair dryer, make-up, and a change of clothes are all there. It's right next door, Charlie. I'm not leaving." "Yes, of course," I said. "Thoughtless of me." I walked to the closet and took out my blue terry cloth robe. "Here. Wear this. No point in putting on all of last night's clothes to walk ten feet down the hallway." She took the robe and slipped into it. She gathered her clothing, including the red dress on the hangar. With her right hand she caressed my face, leaning up for a light kiss. "Give me half an hour." "Half an hour," I agreed. Then she was gone. Well, there's no fool like an old fool, I thought, looking into the mirror. I walked to the closet and selected a white golf shirt, navy trousers and a gray sport coat. You'll probably never see her again, my mind whispered. Nonsense. She said she wasn't leaving. Sure, you believe that, don't you? Yes, I do. We'll see. I pulled off the T-shirt and slipped the golf shirt over my head. I slid into the trousers, threaded my belt and transferred wallet, change, keys and handkerchief into my pockets. I brushed at the gray wire that serves as hair, putting it into some semblance of order. I returned to the bathroom and splashed on a light dose of after shave. Back in the bedroom I strapped on my watch, and threaded my two rings on my fingers. I looked at the worn wedding band on my left hand. Not really any point in wearing it anymore. Eleanor was gone. Until death us do part. I switched the rings, putting the signet ring on my left hand and sliding the wedding band on the fourth finger of my right. A new tradition? I was satisfied with the placement. Looking at my watch, I saw only seven minutes had elapsed. Twenty-three minutes until reality, old man. I sat in the chair, prepared to think through this whole situation. What if she isn't there? Then I will go about my business. An enjoyable interlude is over. What if she is waiting? Then we will go to breakfast together. Then, what? In my work, I was used to planning every step. Setting goals, benchmarks, strategies and objectives was an integral part of my professional existence. Why shouldn't I be able to do the same in my personal life? Because I was not in control of this situation, that's why. What I did next was totally dependent on what she wanted, or would permit. You old fool. Of course you're in control. You could choose not to go there. Why would I do that? To save yourself the emotional upheaval. But, I like the emotional upheaval. Well, not the upheaval. But, I do like the feeling of having emotions again. They've been so subjugated since the end of the grieving period. Take the ride, Charlie. Let it flow. Be flexible. You don't have to have a goal right now. Enjoy the moment. What do you have to lose? Just enjoy it. A decision. Having finalized it, I checked my watch. Seventeen minutes to go. Damn! Time dragged by without her. Careful, Charlie. That kind of thinking makes you vulnerable. To hell with it. I can damned well be vulnerable if I want. But, for now, I've got to do something, anything, to make the time go by quicker. I reached into my interior jacket pocket and pulled out my planner. Tuesday. Was today Tuesday? No, Wednesday. Wednesday was a travel day. As was Thursday, just in case the weather turned foul. Always good to give yourself an extra day. What was on for Friday? A ten thirty with the planners. Lunch with Dabney, a supplier. Then a two o'clock with the production managers. Dinner at seven with other supporters of the symphony. Was I speaking? No, it was a planning meeting. You know, really, there isn't anything that can't be moved back to next week, or missed. How hard would it be for me to free up for a long weekend? It was do-able. What do you need a long weekend for, you old fool? You never know. Maybe. Besides, I'm not old. I'm distinguished, remember? You only started to get old after Eleanor died. That's true. And, with a wife as young and vibrant and stunning as...whoa, there, Charlie! You're getting way ahead of things here. Just daydreaming, that's all. Besides, have you noticed? You still don't even know her name! That's all right. When she's ready, she'll tell. So, what's your plan, mister CMO? Do I have a plan? No, but I can make one right here and right now. I'll ask her to fly back to the coast with me. That's it. Three legs on the flight. I could make it longer, maybe five legs. Then ask her to spend a long weekend with me. That's the plan. Not much of plan, though, is it? Maybe not, but it will do, for now. Six minutes to go. What the hell, be early. Time is a valuable commodity, isn't it? Get a move on. I rose from the chair and checked my image in the mirror. Distinguished. I picked up the key card from the table where she had left it, slipped it in my pocket and made for the door. She opened her door in response to my three light taps. "You're early." She was putting in an earring. Her blond hair flowed over her shoulder as her head tilted to the side. She wore a white blouse with a red, silk bow at her throat. Her skirt, stockings, shoes and jacket were black. "A professional hazard," I said. "Time is money, and all that. "Have I told you this morning how stunning you are?" She smiled. "Not until just now. Come in. Sit down. I'll be just another minute or so." Her suite was the same as mine, just reversed. I took a chair in the sitting room as she walked back into the bedroom. I took a deep breath and plunged in. "I had an idea," I called to her. "Tell me what you think of it." "Okay." "Let me fly you back to the coast." There was silence. Then a "Damn!" "Does that mean you don't like my idea?" "I dropped the clasp for my earring. I can't see it on this gray carpet." "Can I help?" "Never mind. I always carry a few spares." "What about my idea?" She walked into the sitting room, fiddling with the earring on the other side. I stood up. She finished with the jewelry and placed her hand on my face. "It's a sweet idea." "I sense a 'but'." "Charlie, this could be complicated." My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. Remember, I reminded myself, you have to be ready to let go. "Specifically or in general?" I asked, as lightly as I could. "I have a life, Charlie," she said. "That's pretty cryptic. Is there a man in this life? Is that what's going on?" "No, Charlie," she smiled gently. I felt like an idiot. "No man." The emotions welled up inside me. "Look.....I'm beginning to feel very frustrated. Hell, I don't even know your name. I can't even say, 'Look, Amanda, or Annabelle, or Diane...." "Sue." "Thank you. Look, Sue. I've just spent twenty-three minutes in that room without you. Quite frankly, it felt as if there was a huge hole in me. That's why I knocked on your door so early. I couldn't stand not being in your presence. "Complicated? I've been looking at my planner trying to figure out if I can free myself up for a long weekend so I can spend it with you. I want to get to know you." "Charlie, Charlie," she said, with an easy laugh. "Thank you, my dear, sweet Charlie." She kissed me softly and quickly on the lips. "Oh, dear," she said. "We'll have to wipe off the lipstick." I pulled out my handkerchief and swiped it across my mouth. "I know this must be frustrating for you, and I am sorry," she said, her eyes fixed on mine. "I want to get to know you, too, Charlie. "Would it surprise you to know I've been checking my planner, too?" "Have you?" I asked, nonplused. "I absolutely must be in Annapolis on Friday at three. It's the only appointment I can not get out of between now and Monday. That's one complication, Charlie." "Oh, for heaven's sake." I was humbled and delirious. "Let's go to breakfast. We'll work out the schedule there." We spent the next five days constantly in each other's company. She called her offices, faxed the orders she'd collected at her conference and told them she'd be in Annapolis on Friday, as planned, but not to expect her in the office until Monday. I called my office, shuffled the schedule and cleared my calendar for the long weekend. We flew in five legs. We had lunch in New Orleans, then flew to Memphis for dinner and an overnight Wednesday. Early Thursday we flew on to Nashville for breakfast, landed in Richmond for lunch, and arrived in Annapolis for dinner, an overnight and Sue's meeting Friday afternoon. Sue returned to the hotel at around 5:30 Friday evening. "How long to Greenwich?" she asked. "About five hours," I replied. "Can we fly at night?" "Sure." "I want to sleep in your bed tonight," she said. We packed our things, checked out and drove to the airport. Five hours was right at the edge of the safety range of my aircraft. I called for a weather briefing, double-checked the flight plan. We took off at ten minutes after seven. When we reached altitude, I set the auto-pilot, removed my headset, and turned to look at Sue, sitting in the co-pilot seat. "I'd like to learn to do this," she said. "Sounds like a terrific idea." "It would help ease another complication." "We overcame the last one fairly easily," I offered. "What complication are we talking about now?" "How a woman in New Hampshire can be in love with a man in Connecticut." "And a man in Connecticut love a woman in New Hampshire." "I am falling in love with you, Charlie. I keep looking for reasons why I shouldn't. When I find them, I come up with solutions. "Learning to fly one of these solves the only complication I haven't been able to resolve." "And you've been doing all this by yourself?" "It's my nature to identify problems and then solve them." "Am I allowed to contribute?" "Certainly." "The only negative is the location? Is that what I'm hearing?" "So far, that's the only reason I can come up with why I shouldn't fall in love with you." "Suppose I move to New Hampshire." "I wouldn't ask you to do that." "Really?" "You'd have to give up your job. I can't ask you to do that." "Has anyone ever told you that you're a control freak?" She laughed. Once again, I heard those golden bells. "I would like to be able to make a decision in this situation. I'll be glad to discuss my idea with you, if you'd like," I offered. "Besides, if you'll remember, my last idea seemed to work out pretty well." We spent the night at my house in Greenwich. On Saturday, we flew to New Hampshire. I never went back. Sue and I married in late Spring. I sold the house in Greenwich and put all the furniture in storage. My personal items were professionally packed and shipped to New Hampshire. One day, I may actually unpack them. I took early retirement, cashed in my holdings in the company and added to the stocks and bonds in my rather significant portfolio. Sue works because she loves it. We want for nothing. She learned to fly. We take all her business trips in my airplane, together. The red dress goes with us everywhere. When her meetings are finished, she dresses in it and meets me in the hotel bar. We never stay there very long.