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Amy's Smile Ch. 01

By: jfinn



Generally:  You know the drill, don't read this if your underage, easily offended and/or living in a place where this type of material is against the law.  This is purely a figment of my overactive imagination and nobody in the story is real, though wouldn't it be nice.

Specifically:  This is a rewrite of an earlier story that I started last spring.  Though I'd planned on finishing it, I was never happy with how it was turning out, so now I've done some revising and have turned the whole thing into a longer, multipart story.  I'd like to thank everyone who's written and encouraged me to keep going on this and I apologize for the delay, but I hope you'll think it was worth the wait.  

Unfortunately:  No sex in this first chapter, but I promise to do better next time.

Jayne

Chapter One

"So this is it, huh?  You're finally going to do it?"

John looked at me sheepishly and nodded, "I can't help it, I love her.  You know how that goes."

My turn to nod.  There was no point in trying to bullshit him; he'd seen me every day of the six months that I'd honestly believed that Corrine DeMarco was my soul mate, and he'd been there too when I'd written all that bad poetry for Tracy Nigg.  That was the problem with having your best friend as your roommate, not only were they around for all the embarrassing shit, they actually paid attention to it too.

I'd lived with John for six years.  We had met when the Gods, in the guise of the Admission's Office at Notre Dame, had smiled on us and put us together our freshman year.  Trust me, if you've ever lived in a dorm, you know how rare it is to even get along with your assigned roommate, let alone become friends.  So, after we'd graduated, it made sense to rent a place together since we were both going to be working in Chicago.  We found an okay house in a so-so part of town and that was that.  

But all good things must come to an end and this appeared to be it.  Today he was moving out.  He and the alluring Michelle (his words not mine, I don't care much for the outdoorsy look) had decided the time had come to cohabitate.  And the rock she wore on her left hand proved they were playing for keeps.  It was true love too; I had no doubt.  I mean he was moving to Gary, Indiana to be with her.  That tells you right there they were soul mates.   

As for me, well yeah, I was going to miss him, but he'd basically been commuting for the last year and a half anyway, so I was pretty used to not having him around much.  And even though we were best friends, I was kind of looking forward to having our duplex all to myself.  The only real loss, as far as I could see, would be the chunk of money that would now be missing from my wallet when I had to come up with the whole rent, and of course his cooking, which was a hell of a lot better than mine.  

I felt sure I could handle both though, so I helped him pack and threw him a going away party that involved two kegs, a couple of fifths of really good scotch, one stripper and a visit from Chicago's boys in blue when some of our neighbors decided enough was enough.  Now we were packing up the U Haul and trying to act like we didn't give a shit about each other.

"So you're going to stop at Shelle's parents on the way out of town and pick her up?"  Michelle was from some little town just over the Indiana border and she'd decided she'd rather visit her folks than come up for, as she put it, the big drink and puke fest I'd put on for John.

"Yeah, that's the plan.  Christ, I hope her mother doesn't make that god damn pot roast of hers again.  That shit is like shoe leather."

"Just tell her you have the hangover from hell and the thought of food makes you want to toss your cookies," I'm always helpful in a crisis.

"Oh yeah Charlie, why didn't I think of that," funny, but John never seemed as grateful about my suggestions as I thought he should be.

We walked out to his Bronco then, and did the straight man's version of a moving goodbye, a nervous, two-second hug and a lot of backslapping.  Then I watched as he pulled out from the curve and drove towards his destiny - a future wife who looked to LL Bean for fashion tips and a mother who couldn't boil water.

I went back in the house and finished off the remains of a flat keg and fell asleep on the couch.  The next morning I celebrated my new status as king of my very own castle by picking up all the half empty plastic beer cups in the nude.  Life, I thought, was good.

But not for long.  

It's amazing how pricey things can suddenly get when most of your income has to go for rent.  And of course there were all those unexpected expenses that always seemed to crop up when you can least afford them.  After running perfectly for years, my 10-year-old Mazda decided it didn't want to live anymore and left me with the option of buying a new engine for the old rusting beast or popping for a new car.  I compromised with a 3 year old Subaru, but the payments were still killers.  Then it seemed that every friend I'd ever had decided to get married and even when you shop at Target, wedding gifts can add up.  My boss too had been making cracks about my dressing like a the delivery boy from Little Caesars, and since I knew he was looking for someone to replace our companies trouble shooter for the western region, I took the hint and sprang for some new clothes.  They may not have been Armani (or anything even close) but still cost me more than I could afford. 

My wallet was getting real empty and it didn't take a genius to figure out that things were only going to get worse.  Reluctantly, I decided privacy was overrated and advertised for a new guy to share the house and expenses.  After all, I told myself, John and I had lived together for years without any major problems.  This sharing a house thing was easy.

I ended up with three callbacks.  An eighteen year old, who let it be known that wherever he lived, would become party central.  A stoner, who wanted to know if he could use the spare tub for his hydroponics herb farm, and Liam.  Liam had nothing wrong with him - except he was an asshole.  

We'd arranged to meet at 3PM on a Saturday and he'd been right on time.  He showed up wearing jeans and golf shirt from some club that I vaguely knew was exclusive and his sock less feet were clad in loafers that looked a lot like the ones that had figured heavily in the OJ Simpson trial.  But hell, I was an aspiring yuppie myself on some days, so I couldn't hold that against him.

He looked the place over and won a lot of points with me when he didn't mention the hole in the wall, or the overflowing trash can on the back porch.  Actually he didn't say much except for one "Cool!" when he saw my autographed picture of my boyhood idol, Michael Jordan. He asked how much and I told him and he got out his checkbook.  

And that was that.  I had a new roommate.  One who was pretty good too as long as you could overlook the fact that he was an asshole.  One glance at my shrinking bank balance convinced me that I could.   We renegotiated the lease with the landlord for another year and Liam moved in the next week.  

My money crunch was significantly eased.  I still was sorry that I'd had to get a roommate, but you can't have everything and eating was a necessary part of life.  I would learn to live with the disappointment.

Two weeks after that, my boss stopped by my desk and told me he liked my tie.  An hour after that I got promoted with a raise in pay that nearly doubled my salary.  

This, has always been the way my life works.

Surprisingly, Liam turned out to be a pretty good roommate.  He was quiet and pleasant, and for the most part we got along okay, as long as we didn't have to see each other too much.  My new job had me traveling a lot, the western region was everything west of the Mississippi River, and I didn't really have much time to sit around and bond with Liam anyway.  But this suited me fine and I was more than happy with the arrangement. I was disappointed though when I found out he couldn't cook.

Of course, some information was bound to filter through.  He was 25, the same age as me, and he looked a lot like Brad Pitt.  I knew this, because my girlfriend told me so; every - single - time - she saw him.  I knew too, that he was from somewhere out west and his parents still lived there.  He'd found a job in Chicago after taking six years to finish a four-year BA at Northwestern where he'd been some kind of jock.  And that was about the extent of my knowledge.  Except, that he was an asshole.

Now, you may remember, I've mentioned that before and you're probably wondering how I'd reached that conclusion so fast and why.  I have an easy answer.  It was Liam's best friend, Amy.

Best friend.  Okay, I'll use that term; but I'll be damned if Liam ever did.  He sure as hell never called her that to me.  Oh, he had a lot of nicknames for her: like squirt, when he was trying to be nice, and my slave, when he wasn't.  

Don't misunderstand the last one.  He wasn't hinting about any kinky sex games they might have played.  Liam and Amy never had any sex.  At least not together, Liam had a girlfriend, Barbie or Betsy or Beatrice, some name that began with a B.  

Amy might have had a guy she went out with too, though I kinda doubted it after meeting her.  But anyway, what I'm getting at here is, Liam called her his slave because he could literally ask her to do anything for him and she'd do it.      

If he needed his dry-cleaning picked up, Amy would do it.  If his car was in the shop and he needed a lift, Amy would do it.  If he wanted tickets to a concert, but didn't feel like standing in line for 5 hours, Amy would do it. If he wasn't going to be home and he wanted a game taped so he could watch it later...  Well, you get the picture.

I met Amy at the same time I met Liam.  He brought her along when he came to look at the house.  I almost slammed the door in her face - not on purpose, I just didn't notice her.  Amy had a knack for not being noticed.  

She was maybe 5'3" and probably didn't weigh a hundred pounds, though the baggy clothes she always wore made her look smaller.  I found out later she was 24, but she looked about twelve.  She had limp, brown hair that drooped to her shoulders and hung in her face, her movements quick and birdlike.  

She kind of reminded me of a bird, a little brown wren.  She fluttered around the edges of a room, hiding in corners, perching on the end of the couch, always poised for flight.  Personally, I've never cared much for birds.  

But this makes her seem almost attractive.  She wasn't.  It's not that I'm shallow - well, okay maybe I am, but I try not to be.  The point is if she'd shown any spark of personality I would've gotten used her looks.  

Probably.  

But she was as dull as the finish on my old Mazda.  The only light I ever noticed in her was when she allowed herself the treat of looking at Liam.  Then she would glow, her eyes staring adoringly at him under the one unbroken brow that slashed across her face.  It was enough to make my stomach turn.  

Liam however, loved her hero worship.  Why not, it's fun being a God.  That first day, he let her twitter behind us as I showed him the house; then he gave her a big thrill and gave her a toothy smile as he told her to go get his checkbook in the car.  He swatted her playfully on the ass as she turned to leave, and she giggled in delight as she scurried off.  

Then he turned to me grinning and wiggled his eyebrows as if to say, What can you do?  Yep, he was an asshole all right.

Listen, I am no new aged, sensitive kind of guy.  It wasn't my feminine side that was outraged by this blatant exploitation of another person's feelings.  Personally, I didn't give a shit about Amy, and if she wanted to be a doormat for Liam, it didn't matter to me.  I just didn't want to watch it happen.

It made me uncomfortable.  It was a little too familiar.  See, there had been a time when I had been like Amy.  Of course, my object of worship had been a woman, well, girl really.  And she'd never referred to me as her slave.  No, she would never have been that crude.  Her pet is what she called me, her little poochie.  

Jesus.  

Hey, this can't be a completely unfamiliar scenario to you.  Everybody has seen this dynamic before; the cute guy or girl who has a strange friend that nobody else would touch with a ten-foot pole.  They're too fat or too tall, or they always have a 5 o'clock shadow by noon.  

Which isn't a good thing, when your name is Amanda.

The object of their affection tolerates them.  Even lets them tag along sometimes; for trips to the movies or the beach, or anywhere there'll be enough people around to insure that they don't have to actually talk to the serf.  Of course, they'll only issue these invitations if they're positive the rest of their crowd understands that it's charity, not affection that motivates their benevolence.  

And you know what really sucks?  One of that crowd will invariably make the remark; out loud so the sad little shit can hear, that isn't wonderful how kind Tiffany or Troy is to that weird kid that keeps hanging around.   

So here's this poor humanoid, always in the background, oozing a desperate need to be loved and appreciated.  Instead, they have to accept the reality that their idol barely knows they exist.  

Except, when it's time to pay for the popcorn. 

I'd been lucky; I'd been in high school when I'd done my stint as a pet.  Time and nature had been kind to me since then; I was no longer the puny weakling I'd been.  But somewhere, in the back of my mind, this little nerd still lived.  And it bugged me to be reminded of it.  

But back to Amy and the asshole.

I tried to avoid Amy's daily pilgrimages to kneel at the feet of her master.  And for a while, I was pretty successful at it.  Like I said, I was gone a lot and when I was home, my girlfriend, Kendra (she of the big tits and bigger feet) wanted her own measure of idolatry.  Since she liked the services to be held in her bed, I had no problems attending.  

But we had nothing else in common, and eventually we both grew bored of the ritual. She finally excommunicated me in a ceremony that included the ritual sacrifice of my lucky Bull's jersey in her fireplace. 

 I hadn't realized I'd been worshipping the devil.

After that, I was spending a lot more time at home having sworn off women for the rest of my life, or the end of basketball season whichever came first.  Now for the first time, I got a really good look at how my new roomie operated; and it wasn't pretty.

I'd get home from a long day at the office, and there he'd be, stretched out on the sofa, watching the tube while Amy ran back and forth to the kitchen, getting him cold beers and hot nachos.  That is, if she wasn't folding his laundry or balancing his checkbook.  It was a real cozy domestic scene.  Sometimes, my skin would actually crawl.

It wasn't always like this.  A couple nights a week, Amy would be replaced by Liam's real girlfriend.  He had the nerve to call her that, even when talking to Amy, as in; 'You can't come over tomorrow night, I'm going out with my real girlfriend.'  

When Bonnie or Blanche, or whatever the Hell her name was, came over, things were a lot different.  She'd show up at the house on Liam's arm, after having been properly wined and dined, and they'd make nice for a while before heading up to his bed to continue the night's entertainment.  I don't even think that girl knew where our kitchen was.  I had to give her credit for that at least, Ms B. was nobody's slave.  

For one thing, she might have broken a nail, something she seemed to live in deadly fear of.  She always wore these porcelain claws that featured different designs on every finger.  They were fascinating, really.  I think my favorites were the ones that featured the entire Warner Bros. cartoon roster.  Liam liked those too.  I know this because I heard them talking one night in his bedroom while I was making my usual 2 AM trip to the john.

"Oh no Liam," Brittany or Bethany squealed, "we can't do that, it might ruin the design."

"Oh come on," Liam wheedled, "doesn't Bugs Bunny want to explore the cave?"

I didn't hear anymore.  I had no desire to find out what dark cavern the silly wabbit was heading for, and I sure as hell wasn't about to stand around and find out.  I scurried my ass to my bedroom and opened the window and peed on a tree.  Better to risk arrest for indecent exposure, than suffer from nightmares for the rest of my life.  

But even with the Fritz the Cat illusions, I still preferred having Bernadette over at the house to Amy.  At least, I could sit in a room with her for more than 5 minutes without feeling the urge to go find an eyebrow tweezers.  

Buffy was really quite nice to look at actually.  A medium sized, honey blonde with a voluptuous body.  Yeah, she was eye candy all right.  A couple nights spent gazing at her, and I knew my voluntary celibacy probably wouldn't make it through the playoffs.

In fact, I was thinking about breaking my vows with Veronica, this red headed attorney that did some work for my company, on the day I came home to what I will always think of as: The Great Cannelloni Disaster of 1998.  I was just getting to the part where I was alone with the luscious legal eagle in our conference room and our briefs; hers, mine, and the firm's, were all in a pile on the floor, when I walked though my front door and smelled something.  

Something seductive, something enticing, something that smelled suspiciously like real food.  I stopped and tilted my head.  This was my house wasn't it?  I looked around.  Yup, there was my mom's old sofa and the lamp with the football shade that Aunt Claudia and Uncle Jack had given me for my eleventh birthday.  This was home all right.  But what was that amazing aroma?

By this time, you're probably thinking I was a little obsessive about food, and maybe you're right.  But you've got to understand, at the moment I'm describing here, I'd probably gone 5 months without eating something at home that didn't come with instructions that told me to, 'Punch top to vent'.  Christ, I didn't want to beat up my food, I just wanted to eat it.  

Of course I ate out a lot, but most of the time, the only good things about those meals were the toys that came in the bags.  Even restaurants with menu's you could hold and seats that weren't attached to a pole in the floor, were a poor substitute for sitting in the comfort of a real home, eating meat that took hours, not minutes, to make.  Yeah, I was ready for a home cooked meal.     

I lifted my face and sniffed.  Then I dropped my briefcase in the middle of the hall and made like a bloodhound.  It smelled like tomatoes, it smelled like garlic, oh God; it smelled Italian.  I sighed and smiled and swore on my mother's grave (who wasn't dead, but I knew she wouldn't mind) that whatever was cooking, a good portion of it was going to land on my plate.  

It had to be Amy, I thought, unless some lost tourist from Napoli had invaded our house.  No way Belinda could be behind that smell.  She didn't do kitchens, only Liam.  

Amy, Amy, Amy, I thought, why have you been hiding this talent from me?  Hell if she could cook a moist pot roast, I'd marry her and happily sire mono-eye browed kids in exchange for a piece of homemade raspberry pie.

I made it to the kitchen, looked around and realized that dreams really do come true.  There was a huge Caesar Salad on the counter and a loaf of hot crusty bread that steamed with butter and garlic.  A big chocolate cake sat under a glass dome; and it wasn't store bought, I could tell because it leaned a little to the left and the frosting looked like it was spread on with a trowel.  


Amy's Smile Ch. 01



I knew that kind of cake.  It may not look pretty, but the taste was guaranteed to be more fulfilling than most orgasms I've had.  And I've had some amazing orgasms.

But where was the piece de resistance?  I looked frantically for a dish of lasagna or linguini, anything, that could account for that wonderful odor.

Then I saw her.  Amy.  She was huddled in the corner with her arms wrapped around her thin, little body, her head and shoulder scrunched to hold the phone she was listening to in place.  And she was crying.

"No sure," she said trying hard not to sniffle, "I understand, really."

She listened some more, than noticed me and smiled weakly.  

"Right, no that's fine.  Charlie just came in, maybe he'll want some."

She looked at me with a question in her eyes, then she stepped aside and motioned to an enormous pan of cannelloni.  It was one of my all time favorites; but I wasn't as hungry as I had been a few minutes ago.

Still, I raised my eyebrows and licked my lips; it made me sick to see the gratitude in her eyes.  I was going to kill Liam when I saw him again.

"Okay well, have a good time."  Amy hung up the phone.

"What's wrong?"  I asked, though I could guess.

"Huh?"  Amy scrubbed her eyes with her hands.  "Oh nothing."

She turned with that quick light step of hers and started to cut the bread with her back to me.  I could see her shoulders trembling.

"There's good news, really."  She continued, trying to keep her voice light.  "Liam got a promotion."

"You're kidding?!"  

I was surprised.  Liam didn't strike me as a promoting kind of guy.  I guess I didn't hide my feelings too well.  Amy's head snapped around and she shot me a glare.  Pathetic, here the guy stands her up, and she gets mad at me for questioning his perfection.

"He's not stupid you know."  She said, still looking at me like I was toe jam.

"No," I responded mildly, "he's not.  But you gotta admit his six-pack is missing a few of those plastic rings that keep it together."

"Yeah well," she shrugged too beaten to argue, "he was going to come home and we were going to celebrate, but Bambi..."

Shit, I thought, that was it.  You'd think I could remember that one.  It was even a cartoon name.

"...and her Dad, asked him to go out with them instead."

"Bo.. Bambi, and her, Dad?"

"Tom Becker, Liam's boss, he's Bambi's father."

Oh, that explained a lot of things.  But I didn't have the heart to tease Amy about it.  She looked all out as it was.

"I have all this food."  Her hand swept around the kitchen.  "Just help yourself.  I bought tin foil, so you can wrap up the leftovers.  Maybe you guys will want them later."  

She darted across the kitchen and tried to slip around me; but my hand grabbed her wrist and stopped her.  

I don't know why it did that.

"What?"  She said.

She dropped her head and stared down at the floor.  Her shapeless hair parted like a curtain hiding her face, but exposing the nape of her neck.  She had such a little neck.

"Hey," my lips moved and sound came out, but I swear I didn't make it happen, "why don't you stick around and help me eat this?"

No, no, no!  I screamed to myself.  What the Hell are you doing?  You could be rid of her in five, maybe ten minutes tops, if you'd just shut up.  Then you could sit down with a knife, and fork, and eat the whole fucking dish of cannelloni, alone, by yourself, in peace.

"Please," it was like I was possessed, "I could use the company."

She looked up at me and smiled shyly.

"Okay."

Aw Jesus...

She got out the plates and I helped her set the card table that held the place of honor in the dining room.  She'd already started on it before I'd gotten home.  There was a sheet draped over the dented top, and she'd found a couple of those emergency candles in a drawer and stuck them into a some empty LaBatts bottles she'd dug out of the trash.  

There were napkins too, paper ones left over from last year's Christmas party.  They were all festive and cheery, with a picture of Santa bent over, his pants at his ankles and a balloon coming out of his mouth with the words, 'Merry Christmas my ass'.  

Well, they were funny when I bought them.

She'd even found enough silverware to make up three place settings.  I was touched.  Apparently, she'd been planning on feeding me too all along.  

"I thought maybe Liam would invite Bambi."  Amy said.

Okay, maybe not.

Then it hit me what she'd just said, and I stared at her in awe.  Amy had cooked dinner for the guy she loved and his, girlfriend?!  This girl should advertise on the Internet.  She could make a lot of money in the world of S & M.  I'd never known anybody who welcomed pain and humiliation as much as she did.  

I opened my mouth to say something, but she'd already swooped back to the kitchen, which was just as well because I didn't want to get involved anyway.  She returned a few minutes later holding the steaming dish of cannelloni.  My stomach took over and I forgot about everything else as my mouth watered and my fingers twitched with the urge to grab a big string of hot cheese and pop it between my greedy lips.

The first bite was delicious and so was the last.  I chomped my way through two helpings of pasta, a large bowl of salad, half the bread and a piece of cake of obscene dimensions.  Amy ate three pieces of lettuce.

Except for the moans and purrs I couldn't seem to stop making, dinner was a silent affair.  While I gobbled at the trough, Amy kept her head down and used her fork to draw designs in the extra sauce around her untouched pasta roll.  

Apparently, she'd forgotten I was in the room.  She didn't even notice when I got up, which by the way, wasn't very easy, because my center of gravity had changed with the addition of about 10 pounds of rich food in my gut.  I took our dirty dishes into the kitchen.  She was still sitting there a few minutes later when I brought in two cups of coffee and plunked one down in front of her.  She looked so vulnerable; I wanted to slap her.

But hey, it was none of my business if she wanted to be Liam's personal asswipe.  Far be it from me to interfere with the course of true obsession.

"It was a great meal."  I said and it was the truth.

"Thanks."  She never even looked at me.

"Why do you let him treat you like this?"

Shit!  
What in the hell was wrong with me tonight?  It seemed it was impossible for me to keep my big mouth shut.

Amy shook her head and said nothing.  

Get up and go in the other room, I told myself.  Take your coffee with you and escape.  You can do it; it's the only smart thing to do.  

"He's using you." 

A tear slid off Amy's cheek and made a big wet splash on the sheeted table.  Oh wonderful, maybe later, I could go out and find a kitten to torture.  

"Answer me, damn it."

Her head snapped up and she glared at me.  Well, it was better than tears.

"You couldn't possibly begin to understand."  

"Aw that's bullshit..." I started.

"Look at you," she interrupted and for the first time since I'd met her I didn't have to strain to hear her.  "You're tall, good looking, you have a great body and a smart, funny tongue.  People notice you, they like you.  You have friends; I hear you talking on the phone, laughing, making plans.  You meet them for lunch or go out to bars together."

"It's not that big a deal."  

What was going on here?  In a minute, she'd have me apologizing for having friends.

"And women," she shook her head, "I've seen how they check you out."

"But..."

"You think that Liam's not a nice guy because he isn't always very grateful, but at least he acknowledges I'm alive.  I know you don't want to believe this, but he can be real sweet sometimes.  He bought me flowers once."

"That's..."

"And he calls me every day."  She cut me off.

"Yeah," I snorted, "when he realizes he's out of beer."

Amy stood so fast she almost collapsed the card table.  For such a little girl, she could look pretty intimidating.

"How dare you?"  She spit.  "How dare you sit there with that look of contempt and pass judgment on me?  I know what you think, I see you sneering at me, just because I like to be helpful to the only friend I have in the world.  Yeah, I know you, but you have no idea what it's like to be me!"

She would have stalked out of the room then, but now it was my turn to stand and I did manage to break the damn table.  Amy squeaked as it fell; then squeaked again when I grabbed her wrist and started to drag her with me as I left the room.

"Come on."  I ordered as she struggled to free herself.

"Let go of me!"

I did.  So suddenly she almost landed on her bony ass.  We stared at each other gasping for breath.

"So you think I don't understand, huh?  I don't know you, but you know all about me?"  I put my hands on my hips and leaned in.  "Lady, you're the one who's fucking clueless."

I was really pissed for some reason, though I didn't exactly know why. 

"I have something I want to show you."

I grabbed her arm again, still furious and prepared to carry her if that's what it took, but the fight had gone out of her and she let me lead her tamely up the stairs.  She pulled up again when we reached my bedroom door.  I opened the door and pushed her in.

Ever have one of those moments when you wish you could run the clock back about 30 seconds?  That's how I felt when I saw the look on Amy's face.  I was used to my room; it didn't look that bad to me.  One look at Amy's face told me I might need to rethink that assessment.

"Gosh Charlie," she looked awe struck, "you're really a pig."

"It's not that bad."

"It's a sty."

"I suppose I should pick up a few things."  I muttered.

"Two years ago you should have picked up; now you need to excavate."

"Jesus Christ, I'm not asking you to clean it!"  I was getting annoyed.

"Good thing."

I decided it would be better to ignore her and just get on with what I came for.

"Sit there."  I pointed to the bed, mainly because it was the only surface in the room that wasn't covered in clothes and dirty dishes.

Amy looked dubiously at the rumpled and tangled covers.  They were gray, but that's how they were supposed to be. 

I think.

"Is it safe?"

"Hey I wash the sheets.  I just don't make them up all the time."  

Ever, was more like it, but I didn't really think that was any of her business.  I was getting real tired of this conversation anyway.

Amy sat down gingerly, trying to make as little contact with the bed as possible.  I went over to the stack of books and magazines I'd collected in one of the corners and began pawing through them.  

After finding three years of SI, a bunch of Tom Clancy's and a pair of old jockey's that were sticking to a 1996 issue of Playboy (full of good articles, I'm sure, if you took into account the state of those briefs) I finally found what I was looking for; Southland High's 1991 Laker Log, my old alma mater's yearbook.  I grabbed it and went over to sit next to Amy.   

"Care to take a trip with me through memory lane?"

I flipped pages until I came to the one I was looking for.  It was a group shot of the football team.

"See anyone you recognize?"

She looked carefully at the faces of each of the players, twice.  She raised her head and shook her it.

"Look again."

"Charlie..."

"How about this one?"  I pointed at the team manager.  "Ring any bells now?"

Amy stared at the kid in the photo.  He was dark haired, maybe 5'1" and if he weighed anymore than 80 pounds, it was because he'd just had lunch.  I watched as her eyes widened.

"Oh wow, that's..."

I beat her to it.

"Yep, you're right, it's me.  The littlest kid in the junior class, boy or girl."

"But..."

"Wait, there's more."  I flipped pages and pointed again.  "See her?"

Amy nodded dumbly.  But her eyes were beginning to wise up; she knew what was coming next.

"Her name was Johanna Dalrymple.  I thought she looked like Melanie Griffith.  I followed her around like a puppy, and that's just how she treated me.  Like a dog she didn't love very much, but could be fun sometimes when she felt like putting it through its tricks.  Oh, and I'd do them too.  I'd roll over and jump through hoops, anything to make Johanna smile.  Jesus."  I shook my head.

"Charlie," Amy said softly, "you don't have to tell me this."

"But I want to."  I insisted.  

"I was never her boyfriend.  She had plenty of big, strong guys for that.  No, my role was mascot, the little guy with the bad skin who tagged after her; carrying her books and listening to her bitch about how hard it was to be the most popular girl in school."

I clenched my jaw as I flushed at the memory.  

"She'd turn her big blue eyes in my direction and whisper how glad she was that I was her friend, because nobody else understood her.  Yeah, right.  Then she'd pat me on the head and tell me to go away because she had to get ready for her date with one of her real boyfriends."

I knew I'd scored a direct hit with that last one when Amy flinched and started to pull away and stand.  Funny, even though that had been the effect I was going for, it didn't make me feel all that great.

"Sorry."  I pulled her back down and we were both silent for a moment.  I slipped the yearbook onto the floor.  Amy just stared at her Disney free fingernails.

"So you see," I continued softly.  "I do know exactly what you're going through."

Aw Christ, now she was crying again.  I sat there and watched helplessly.  Of course, I didn't have a Kleenex, and I was pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate it if I tried to mop her face with one of my dirty tees.  The briefs were out of the question.  I took her in my arms and rubbed her back.

"I, I, don't know what to do."  She whispered into my shirt.  "I really care about Liam, but I can't seem to make him see that."

"I know, I know."  And the pisser was, I did.

"I realize I make too many excuses for him.  I know I should just walk away.  It's not like it would be any big deal; he'd probably never even know I was gone."

"Yes he would," I said soothingly, "as soon as he ran out of clean shorts."

Amy raised up her head and looked at me.  Then she did the most amazing thing, she laughed.  I'd never heard her do that before.  It was almost, pretty.

"You're a jerk, you know that."  The tears were still leaking out of her eyes, but she was smiling.  She actually had an okay smile too.

"Yeah, but at least I'm an entertaining jerk."

"True."

My back was starting to get stiff from the awkward position I was in because of holding Amy.  I pushed her gently away.

"Better now?"

Her eyes clouded.  I knew that look, it was the: 'Oh God, he thinks I'm an idiot look.'  I took her back in my arms.

"Well, maybe for a few minutes more."  I said.  "But let's get a little more comfortable; that is if you can bring yourself to actually lie down on my disgusting sheets."  

She giggled again, which I took to be a yes.  I pulled her with me so we were lying down.  Then I tucked her up against my chest.  

She was such a little thing; it was like having a kitten curled up next to you.  I'd never particularly been attracted to little women, and I'd never been to bed with one before.  Not, that I had any plans for Amy either.  I was just being a friend.  A real friend.

"Charlie..." Amy sounded sleepy.  With the emotional roller coaster Liam and I had put her through that day it was no wonder.

"Yes?"

"You and I are different you know.  You didn't stay that little boy; you grew up."

"That's right I did," I stroked her hair, "but not in time."

"I don't understand."

"I mean, I'd like to tell you that I finally got wise to the manipulating bitch; that I finally got fed up and walked away from her.  But I didn't."

Amy looked up at me and rested her chin on my collarbone.  "Go on."

"I never confronted her when she pretended I was invisible; which was a daily occurrence, believe me.  And I never said a word when she left me to go off with some friends without telling me, so I ended up waiting three hours in a parking lot because she'd said she needed a ride home from the mall."  

I was deep into remembering now, and the humiliation was as sharp as it had been seven years before.  "Christ, I never complained.  Not even when she dressed me up in her twelve year old sister's clothes and made me talk with a southern accent so she could take me to party and pass me off as her little cousin from Texas."

"Liam and Bambi went to a Halloween party last year as Nick and Nora Charles; I went with them."  Amy said dreamily.

"Oh no," I groaned, "do not say what I think you're going to say."

"Yep, I was Asta."

I couldn't help it; I had to laugh.  This whole thing - her, me, Liam, Johanna...  It was too damn tragic to be anything but funny.  Amy joined me, and we both roared until I was holding my stomach, and she was crying again.

"And you know what else?" She gasped.  "At school sometimes, he'd take me out for a beer, but when we'd get there, he'd go into the bar ahead of me.  If he saw anybody he knew, he'd make up some excuse about the place being too crowded and we'd have to go somewhere different."

"That's nothing, Johanna used to make me go sit in the restroom if we were out in public and she saw a cute guy she wanted to talk to.  I spent so much time in Men's Rooms, there was a rumor at school I was gay."

"Wait, wait I can top that..."

And on and on it went.  We traded war stories like seasoned soldiers; each of us trying to one up each other with the humiliations we'd suffered at the hands of our ideals.  It was kind of fun in a sick, perverted way. 

But suddenly Amy got this stricken look.  I knew I wasn't going to want to hear what she was going to say next.  

"It doesn't matter though.  I can't let go of him, Charlie.  I can't help it."

See, I knew I wasn't going to like it.  

"So how did it end with Johanna?"  Amy wisely changed the subject.

"She graduated."  I shrugged.  "She was a year older than me.  She left that June to work as a camp counselor.  I never saw her again."  

I shrugged; it was history.  I hadn't thought of it in years.  Until Amy showed up.

"In a funny way, I always thought her leaving was the catalyst to my maturing.  Like, she'd somehow kept me a little boy.  Anyway, I started to grow that summer, and by the time I graduated from high school I was six foot one.  A 130 pounds mind you, but eventually I filled out.  My skin seemed to miraculously clear up too; but that really was because Johanna was gone.  She always made me so damn nervous."

Amy's hair had fallen over her face again.  I don't know why it didn't drive her crazy.  On impulse, I reached up and tucked one side behind her ear.  She ducked and shook her head, making her hair tumble back over her cheek.

"Don't."

"Why?  At least that way it's out of your eyes."

"I don't like it that way."

"But apparently, you like having to look through a curtain all the time."

"I have ugly ears."

"What?"

"I hate my ears, okay?"  She sat up.  "They're elf ears."

Now I sat up.

"Let me see."

I reached out my hand, but she swatted it away.

"Come on, let me see."

She sighed, then turned and faced me.  She grabbed her hair and pulled it back.  She was right; she had elf ears.

"They're not so bad."

"Elf ears."

"Well it could be worse."  I said.  "They could be Vulcan ears.  Actually, I kind of like them."

"Yeah, sure."

"No seriously, they're cute."

And in a way, they were.  They were very tiny, like the rest of her, and they didn't stick out or anything.  They were just a little, pointy.  

"I don't believe you."  

But she smiled when she said it.  Her smile turned into a yawn.

"Gosh, I'm tired." 

She slumped back a little and my hands came up to her shoulders to catch her and pull her back down on the bed to lie with me.  I swear to God, I was only being a friend.




Amy's Smile Ch. 01



"I should go home."  She murmured, but she rested her head into the crook of my shoulder and sighed.  "This is nice though; I always wanted a big brother."

She was right; it did feel nice, comfy.  I found myself getting drowsy too - or something like that.  I could smell the traces of some clean smelling shampoo in her hair; I moved my head closer and let her dark strands tickle my nose.  I reached around her and pulled her tighter and her bony butt snuggled up to my crotch and my hard... 

WAIT A DAMN MINUTE!

I must have looked like Linda Blair in the Exorcist, because I levitated getting off that bed.  I know my head spun around a couple times.

"Charlie, what's wrong?"  

Amy sat up.  She wore the expression of a woman who suddenly realizes they're all alone in the house with the mad killer.

"Uh... uh..." I said succinctly, I ran my hands through my hair and tried to think of something to say.  "I uh, I have to go to the bathroom."  

Oh, that was smooth.

"Oh."  She relaxed, and lay back down which put her face right at crotch level.

And my cock, always being such a friendly fellow, stood up and waived hello.  Even someone as inexperienced as Amy, couldn't miss the greeting.

"Ohhhhh!."  She whispered again, and blushed from the top of her head to...  Well, I don't know how far down the color went and I had no intention of finding out.

"I'll be back in a minute," I left a cloud of smoke behind me as I fled that room.  Okay dust.  Why vacuum, when you can't see the floor.

"Shit, shit, shit," I moaned in perfect rhythm as I banged my head on the bathroom tile.  

I mean I liked Amy okay, especially now that I knew what a spectacular cook she was; but I'd only been kidding when I said I'd be willing to father her children.  Besides, she was a sweet kid; I didn't want to be the one to fuck her up more than she already was.  Especially, not literally.

I stopped hurting myself and rested my bruised forehead against the cool tile.  I'd lost my hard-on as soon as I gotten away from the scene of the almost crime.  How long had it been since I'd gotten any?  Too long, if I could get turned on by a one browed girl with elf ears and the body of a eleven year old boy.

There was a timid rap at the door.

"Charlie?"

Jesus, there it went again.  One word from that childish little voice, and my cock was doing his, always stand for a lady, routine.  Except, he wasn't being a gentleman.

"I'll be out in a minute."  Or an hour, if this keeps up.  Ow, bad pun.

"No, that's okay I just wanted to tell you I was leaving."

Smart girl - there was nothing wrong with Amy's survival instincts.  But the glow of my watch told me it was already after midnight, and this wasn't the neighborhood for a woman to be out in alone late at night.  Besides, I thought, I hadn't seen her car when I'd come in so she'd probably had to park a ways away.

"Wait," I sighed, "I'll walk you."  

I ran water and did a quick splash to my face, though that wasn't the area of my body that needed a cold shower.  I looked down and addressed my crotch."

"And you, can just knock this shit off."

"What?"

I opened the door.  She was standing right on the other side of it; I ran right into her.  

Oh God.  

"Nothing."  I grabbed her arm.  "Come on, let's go."  I sounded pissed.  I was, but not at Amy.

"You don't have to do this."

"Of course I do."

She pulled her arm away from me, stopped and hung her head.

"Now what?"  I was back to running my hands through my head.  I was almost frantic to get her out of the house.  Or lay her down on the carpet, and have my way with her.

"I just wanted to say that even though you're angry with me now, I really appreciate you inviting me to dinner and talking to me and all.  I'm sorry I screwed it up by being such a wet blanket."

I could not belief my ears.  First, I had made a pig of myself over a meal she had prepared, and no doubt bought.  Then, I'd yelled at her about things that were absolutely none of my business, making her cry - several times.  Finally, I had topped off this entire gala evening by getting so freaked out by even the thought of having sex with her, that I'd locked myself in the bathroom.  And she was apologizing to me?  Oh brother, did she need a life or what.

I closed my eyes and sighed.  I couldn't let her go home thinking that she'd somehow been at fault for this evening's fiasco.  "Amy, I am not mad at you."

"Really?"

"Really."  I tipped her head up with my fingers.  "I'm embarrassed, that's all."

"I don't understand."

Oh shit.  I had no doubt that was the truth, Amy wasn't playing coy; Amy didn't have a coy bone in her body.  

"Yeah well..."  I tried to think of some way of saying this without giving either of us a heart attack.  Sometimes honesty can be a real bitch.  "The thing is Amy, when we were lying in bed together; I developed this problem."

I watched her face as the topic now under discussion registered in her brain.  It was real easy to do; I just watched the flush on her cheeks get redder and redder.  By the time it sunk in all the way, her face looked like she'd spent about nine hours in a tanning booth.

"That's right, Peanut, you got me excited."

Her eyes widened.

"Me?"  

Her eyes dropped, then shot back up as she realized where she was looking.  Hot coals didn't glow as bright as Amy's face.

"I didn't see anybody else in the room," I reminded her.

"I didn't think it was me that made you; that way."

"What else could it've been?"

"I thought I read somewhere, that it just happens spontaneously sometimes."

I rolled my eyes.  "Well yeah, when you're thirteen, but when you get older, you need a little inspiration."

I could not believe we were having this conversation.  But it had given me time to think up a great way to get off the hook.  That is, if a sleazy, self-serving lie can ever be considered great.

"So when you were lying there and I felt myself losing control, I had to leave so I wouldn't be tempted to try anything with you."

Amy opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off with a lift of my hand.

"Because, even though I don't agree; I still respect your feelings about Liam."  I put that last bit in to add some realism.  I almost gagged when I said it.  

"Uh huh."

So maybe Amy wasn't as gullible as I thought.  I tried a little misdirection to take her mind off what I'd just said.

"Listen, I've been thinking, and if you really want Liam then you should go for it."

"Uh huh."

"Here," I took her arm and steered her to the staircase, "I'll explain what I mean while we walk to your car."

At least, the last 5 minutes of strenuous mental activity had calmed down my little friend.  Well, maybe not so little.  Okay, average.

We grabbed our coats and I hustled her ass outside.  The cold air finally convinced little Charlie, once and for all, to stop pretending he was a jack in the box and I started to breath with relative ease again.  Then Amy spoke.

"So you were saying?"

Oh damn, I'd been so relieved that my cock had succumbed to a cold induced coma; I'd forgotten I needed to come up with a master plan for Amy's future seduction of Liam.  Amy and seduction, those two words just didn't seem to fit well in a sentence together.

"Oh yeah," I could do this, I thought, I've always been good at bullshit.  It's the only subject I got straight A's in at college.  "Well, I think you could get him if you maybe changed a few things."

We were walking, but Amy slowed down as she thought about what I was saying.  God, she was such a trusting little thing.  She seemed to honestly believe; I knew what the fuck I was talking about.

"Like what?"  She finally asked.

Uh oh.  Not, that I couldn't give her a list, a long one.  I just didn't want to go for a world's record in making Amy cry.

"Oh, I don't know," I stalled, "maybe try a new look."  Get a look was more like it, but like I said, I was trying to be kind.  "It might make him take a step back and reevaluate his feelings for you."  

Step aside Dr. Ruth.

"Could you be a little more specific?"

Yes, but not in this lifetime.  "Jesus Amy, I don't know.  I'm no expert."  

Okay, I guess Dr. Ruth can have her job back.

"Don't you have any girlfriends who could give you a hand?"

"Not really, and besides, why would they want to do that?"

She had to be joking right?  There isn't a woman alive who doesn't itch to get her hands on a Cinderella like Amy.  Most of my childhood was spent listening to my sisters talk about some poor thing that could be so cute, if only they'd use makeup, cut their hair, lose a couple hundred or so pounds.  

Too bad they were up in Milwaukee; they'd have been all over Amy like ants on peanut butter.  I'm not saying the results would have been better, frankly I didn't think that was possible, but they would have been different.  

Actually, I thought, one call would probably have them down here like a shot.  Of course, they'd want to know why I was so interested...  

Nope, that wasn't a call I'd be making.

"Isn't there anybody you can think of?  Trust me woman like doing this kind of sh... Stuff." 

Always obedient, Amy thought about it for a moment.  "Well, there is this new girl at work.  She's been pretty friendly and I know she's just moved here and doesn't have a lot of friends."

"Great.  Ask her.  I'll bet she'll be happy to help and you can show her around the city at the same time."

"Okay."  Amy sounded like I'd just asked her to walk across the Sahara barefoot - at noon - naked.

"I'll talk to Miriam on Monday."

"Miriam?"

"The girl at work."

Miriam.  

Oh great, a Miriam is going do a makeover on Amy.  This ought to be real interesting.

We had finally gotten to Amy's car.  She got her door open and turned to face me.  I knew she was going to thank me again.  I scooped her up in my arms and gave her a brotherly hug and kept my hips at a fraternal distance.  But the temptation to pull her close was there.  God, she was so needy; she really had that kitten thing down pat.

"Thanks for dinner, Peanut."  I said to the top of her head.  "It was the best meal I've had in a long time."

Amy tilted her head and looked at me with those solemn eyes of hers.  She seemed to be puzzled about something.

"Things will work out."  I stroked her hair.  "They always do."

I loosened my arms and stepped back.  Amy turned, and with her back to me she spoke, more to herself, I thought, then me.  

"But what if it doesn't.  What if...?"  Amy stopped in mid sentence and smiled at me.  Then she got in her car, turned the key and drove off.  

I watched her drive away.  For a moment, I almost wished it could happen the way she wanted it to.  I stuck my hands in my pockets and headed towards home.



Amy's Smile Ch. 02



I ended up going out of town the next day and when I got back; I took some much needed comp time. I spent a couple of days with my folks, and then took off for the weekend with my brother, Frank, and a few buddies who wanted to go ice fishing. Translate that to, wanted to get away from their wives and girlfriends, get shit faced and play cards. 

But for all their bitching about getting away from all the women, guess what was basically the only topic of discussion? You guessed it. Jesus, a couple of times I thought I was at a taping of Sally Jesse Raphael show. I didn't have much to contribute myself and since the sound of my voice is one of my favorite things I was sort of disappointed in the weekend. Oh well, the beer was free.

I got back in town Monday morning, so I went straight to work. That afternoon, we got a call from one of our customer's and an hour later I was on a plane headed for Albuquerque.

I didn't see home again until Thursday afternoon. I was beat. Nobody was there when I got in and that mildly depressed me. I was sort of curious about what kind of changes Amy had decided to make and if she'd gotten Miriam, from work, to help. On second thought, it might be better not knowing. I had a feeling things were not going to go according to plan. 

I went to bed and slept for 13 hours.

Usually, I'm not someone who remembers much of their dreams. A dwarf here, a talking dog there, that's pretty much about it. But that night was an exception. I woke up to the image of little Charlie encased in the hot, tight tunnel of someone who started out looking a lot like Winona Ryder until I got a good look at her face and saw an eyebrow that stretched across her entire forehead. 

Shit.

I sat up and tried to stop my heart from pounding. I was covered in sweat and... Oh Christ, it had been years since I'd had a wet dream. That did it, I had to go out and find a girlfriend, or at least someone who was willing to play that role for an hour or two.

I got up and went to the shower to get rid of the remains of my relapse into puberty. I didn't even want to think of who that was that I'd been having those dreams about. It wasn't like it meant anything after all. Dreams meant shit. Hell, one time I'd got off on one with Olive Oyl. Granted, I'd been twelve at the time and more familiar with cartoons than Playboy, but still it figured as one of the weirder sexual fantasies of my horny youth. So the fact that I'd placed Amy in a sex dream was nothing, right?

Anyway that was my take on it. I got dressed and by the time I got to work, I'd managed to forget the whole strange interlude. 

Mostly.

I work for a company that develops medical software, the kind that's used by doctor's offices and small clinics. We're a little fish, but getting bigger all time because our programs are really user friendly. Unfortunately though, they are not idiot proof. And there are a lot of idiots out there. 

That's where I come in. I'm the guy who fixes the mess that your nineteen-year-old temp makes when she fucks up your entire patient reference base and old Mrs. Marshall is showing up for an appointment for an ekg and you have her down for a barium enema, while Mr. Lanzerotti is still sitting in his chair trying to figure out why he has to wait for the results on his pregnancy test. 

Some of the time I get lucky and there's someone in the office who actually knows something about computers and we can handle things over the phone, but most of the time it doesn't work that nice. That's when I have to do my Superman imitation and fly out to Podunk, Iowa to flip the right switches and reformat the software. For this I make a not obscene, but fairly inflated, salary while fulfilling the apparent dream of my employers to have me intimately familiar with the location of the ice machine in every Motel Six west of the Mississippi.

When I'm not jetting off to exotic Peoria, I occupy a cubicle in a ratty old warehouse that's supposed to be chic, but instead comes off looking like the set for a slasher movie with it's poor lighting, dark corners and the worst work stations that money can buy. Add to that the fact that there are enough computer cables on the cracked linoleum floor to stretch across the Mackinac Bridge, putting everyone in the place in imminent danger of giving themselves a couple of dislocations and a concussion if they aren't careful where they walk, and you can see why I wanted the travel job in the first place. 

Since my promotion, I actually have very little in-house work and as my bosses are used to lunatic behavior as they've been working in the software field for most of their adult lives (and for that matter aren't exactly the picture of mental health themselves) I'm pretty free to do as I please. This translates to lots of computer games and possibly the largest collection of porn downloads in the free world.

Of course you can guess which is my favorite of the two.

The rest of the staff is mainly comprised of a bunch of idiot savants, excuse me - PROGRAMMERS - who would fit right in with the folks on most sitcoms except they might be too odd for that format. Think Andy Dick and French Stewart on acid.

Two of them, Leroy Sykes and Clement Forrester (it's like their parents just knew how they were going to turn out) had taken up the slack of John's leaving to become my best friends in town. Actually, they're pretty nice guys if you can overlook the Grateful dead tee's and black nail polish that Leroy sports and the pocket protector that's apparently Clem's security blanket since he never leaves home without it. But like I said they're sort of cool in a surreal way and I hang with them on a fairly regular basis.

That day was no exception. After a spirited spitball battle we went out to an early lunch and annoyed our waitress by ordering in pig latin. (Okay, I know, but there is something about these guys that make me regress to the third grade.) 

We got back to the office at two and I sat around for a while and pretended I was interested in some 80 page memo about a coding problem the engineers were having with the new Medicare system. That lasted about five minutes and then my eyes stopped focusing and I settled in for an open-eyed nap, something I'd perfected in college during my lecture class on Renaissance and it's effects on modern thought.

So it had been a long day and I was dragging by the time I got home. Amy's car was out front and I felt my chest sort of seize when I thought about seeing her, but I shouldn't have worried. One look at that droopy little frame convinced me that whatever my dreams had been about, the reality was that this little bit of a girl did nothing for me. 

In fact, I was glad to see her again. Mostly this was because she really wasn't a bad kid but also because I was still looking forward to seeing the changes the mysterious Miriam had wrought in her. 

But in this, I was doomed to disappointment. It was the same old Amy. Same oversized clothes, same limp hair, and same eyebrow. I couldn't see her ears, but I imagined they were still pointy. 

I felt let down. Hey, I didn't think it would work, but that didn't mean I wasn't hoping there'd be an improvement. And it's not like it could get much worse.

"Charlie," Amy smiled shyly at me. At least her smile was okay, kind of sweet, really.

"Hey Amy, how's it going?"

"Great Charlie."

She stared at me for a moment like she was trying to make up her mind about something. Suddenly she walked towards me and threw her arms around me. I hugged her back. 

Well I had to, didn't I? 

She stepped back and grinned. Maybe there was something different about her.

"Thank you Charlie, thank you for everything."

"You're welcome Peanut, though I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, of course, I forgot." 

She motioned me to have a seat on the couch, then perched on the arm, at the other end. I hate it when somebody does that; it makes me think they're waiting for an excuse to get away from me. 

Amy saw me frown. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, you just look uncomfortable sitting that way."

"Oh," she slid off the arm and landed on the cushion with a light bounce. Then she tucked her legs under her baggy skirt and grinned again. "Better?"

"Much, go on."

She took a big breath and looked at me. That was it, I thought, that was what was different. Amy looked happy.

"I took your advice. I talked with Miriam," she leaned towards me a little. "Oh Charlie, she's wonderful. She told me, she thinks we're going to be best friends. Last Saturday, she came to my house and we talked all afternoon, and last night we went to the movies and..." She laughed and I grinned back. "I know this doesn't sound like much to you, but I've never had a real girlfriend before."

"Yeah, that's great." I meant it too, but I wanted to know something else. "Did you ask her about that other thing we talked about?"

"The thing...? Oh, sure. You were right; she wants to help, says she'd been dying to in fact, ever since she met me."

I knew it; women love that shit.

"That's kind of why we got together last weekend. Miriam said she needed to get to know the real me."

I choked. I wasn't sure Amy had any me, let alone a real one.

"All week long she's been making appointments and lists for me - my hair, clothes, all of it. She has to fly home tomorrow for a wedding, but next Saturday, we're going to Woodfield Mall and spending the day." 

"It sounds like fun," I lied. It sounded like having your testicles ripped out through your nostrils would be less painful. 

"I'm going to go home now and call Miriam; we're still going over all the plans. I can't believe how much work this is going to be."

Apparently Amy'd never looked in a mirror.

"Well, good," I stopped, as a thought struck me. "Aren't you going to wait to see lover boy?"

"Nope, I just stopped by to pick up some shirts for the cleaners."

She caught me rolling my eyes, and stuck her tongue out at me. Hey, wait a minute; Amy stuck her tongue out at me? She really was changed. Maybe Amy had a real me after all.

"In case I forget, tell Liam, I'll pick them up next Friday as usual, but I won't drop off the stuff that's done until the next morning, on my way over to Miriam's."

I said I would and saw her to the door. I didn't walk her to the car because, it was still light outside and besides, as she pointed out, she'd gotten a space across the street this time. But I watched until she drove away. Always the little gent, that's me. 

A few minutes later, I left to meet Clem and Leroy for some brews and see if any of the women at our usual watering hole would be interested in a little between the sheets skinny dipping. With me doing the dipping of course. 

I really don't care much for bars. Some of it's a hold over from the nerdy kid in high school who always knew that he was never going to get the girl at the school mixers, and some of it was because of a comment the poetry loving Ms Nigg had made about my dancing looking like the last gasps of a dying stork. But John Barleycorn's Pub wasn't too bad a place to go if you were looking for love in all the wrong places. Dark and cozy, it had lots of little tables crowded into a room overheated by a huge fireplace and a big mahogany bar that you could sit at and take in all the sites. Best of all there was no dance floor.

I was sort of a regular, but I hadn't been there much since getting the new job. So it was gratifying that the bartender grinned and called me by name when I walked in. There were a few other regulars too that nodded, and of course Clem and Lee acknowledged my existence, even in the midst of a heated debate over AI, so I was pretty pleased with the whole idea of spending a night there getting shit faced. And of course there were the women.

One of the perks about going out to the bar with those guys was that, while they were someone to sit with, they were in no way competition. For one thing Leroy kept saying he was gay although with that name, those clothes and the fact that he lost the ability of speech everytime a cute guy said hi, it really was like a non issue for all the impact it had on his sex life which centered on his left hand and several video's that featured hairy man in camoflage on their jackets. 

Clement on the other hand liked girls, but I don't think he actually knew what they were for. If he had he might have some success, at least that's what Kendra (who'd had this annoying habit of checking out my friends like she was sizing up the possibility of dating them next) had said when she'd met him. She told me he reminded her of this guy Poindexter from some old Barbie game and when I looked at her like she was nuts, she assured me that 90% of the woman who'd grown up in this country would understand what she was talking about and agree that anyone who reminded them of Poindexter was hot. 

But Clem would probably have been happier with a life sized Barbie Doll then a real live girl. At least he never seemed to need to make anymore contact with the female side of things than an occasional appreciative glance and an addiction to Baywatch.

Of course I was a little more hands on than that, and so while they segued into their 999th argument about the impact of Unix, I looked over the talent that had assembled itself in the regular seating area of the bar. It looked like a good selection. Even though it was early, the tables were crowded with luscious young ladies who looked good enough to eat and more than willing to allow you to do just that. After careful consideration, I settled on a table of three. Hey, I know I'm passable, but still, there is nothing wrong with stacking the odds in my favor. One of them was sure to fall for my line of bullshit, or at least to pretend to.

Her name was Rachel and she was dark the way you should be with that name. She had black hair and black eyes and a cherry red mouth that fascinated me by the way it gleamed when she took a gulp of beer. She probably was packing about 10 extra pounds on her hips, but that was forgivable by the way her large breasts balanced out the weight. She giggled a lot and I'm betting that she was never in the running for a Rhodes Scholarship, but what the fuck, I wasn't interviewing her for a job, and it wasn't her mind I was interested in penetrating.

I talked to her for three hours and she giggled back enough to let me know that I didn't have a lot of worries about where we were going after the bar closed. I was right. I said goodnight to the guys and watched them stagger off to their El stop still arguing, now about the devil that most of us know is really Bill Gates.

"Do you want a drink?"

We were at Rachel's place, whispering so we didn't disturb her roomie. I thought about the offer, but I'd already had double my normal quota and I'd learned the, er, hard way that any more alcohol would just make me too relaxed, if you get my drift. I reluctantly shook my head no.

Rachel didn't seem to mind. It had been obvious by the way her tongue had kept trying to make friends with my tonsils in the back of the cab (how I was going to get my car out of the bar parking lot was something I'd think about later) that she wasn't interested in continuing the meaningful discussion we'd started about Buffy, The Vampire Slayer in the bar. 

I grabbed her hand and told her to lead the way to her bedroom and giggling, she did. Then we did a race to see who could get naked the fastest. I won, and then gracious winner that I am, I encouraged her own strip tease with appreciative moans and touches that earned me a couple more giggles and one pretend slap.

Ever since Johanna, I have to confess that I've always been attracted to tall women and Rachel was no exception. She must have been close to my own height and I'd have said she probably weighed more than me if I didn't know that muscles is three times heavier than fat. But that makes her sound flabby and actually she was anything but. What she was, was voluptuous, J Lo proportioned and hotter and sexier than even the alluring lawyer, Vanessa. (Whom I 'd just heard to my sorrow, had gotten engaged to an insurance salesman who was in the Million Dollar Roundtable.)

But I forgot about Vanessa and everyone else as I latched my hungry mouth on one of the big fat breasts Rachel was shoving in my face. Tasty was the adjective that came to mind and I attacked it like it was a hot fudge sundae - with a cherry on top. As with most big-breasted women, Rachel lying down was not the same standout woman she was in an upright position. In fact most of her breasts were now neatly tucked into the hollows of her armpits. But there was enough padding still front and center to satisfy me and I snuffled and licked and nipped with great satisfaction.

It also gave me no end of pleasure to realize that I'd finally shut up her giggling. Now she was moaning and the pitch was steadily getting higher especially when I stuck my hand between her legs and stroked the slick swollen lips of her pussy. My fingers slid right into the slippery channel and seconds later she raised both legs in welcome as I found her clit and introduced myself.

Rachel wasn't just a passive player though. Her generous sized hands were on their own journey of discovery and I thought my heart would stop when she finally found and started to stroke my favorite body part. Then in a move that would have won applause in the WWF, she flipped me over and dove down to envelop my cock in her wet, red mouth. 

I love a woman who knows what she wants.

This went on for about 5 minutes and I was just getting to the part where my name was only something I dimly remembered when she abruptly stopped and lay back on the bed with her legs sprawled obscenely open. "Okay," she ordered. "Do me now."

So it wasn't love's young dream. It was hot, smutty sex, something I've always been a big fan of, so I willing obliged. My face got sticky and my tongue got tired, but the whoop Rachel shouted as she poured herself into me more than made up for it.

After we both got are breath back, General Rachel growled out her next order, "Fuck me."

I grabbed the condom my brain had remembered while it still could think such intricate thoughts and put it on. Then in one sensuous glide I slide into her pussy up to the hilt.

This is the place where I'm supposed to talk about how tight she was. Uh uh, sorry, not going to happen. Rachel wasn't the exactly the Carlsbad Caverns, you understand, but nobody was going to mistake her for a virgin either. This was fine by me though and it became even more okay when she showed off how well her regimen of Klieg exercises were coming along. She tightened her pussy and I groaned on cue. Then I flexed once to show her that she wasn't the only one with muscle control and started to thrust slowly in and out of her undulating pussy. 

I've done some reading on the subject (one of the perks of going to a university with a really good library) and I know that most women can't come unless they have some stimuli to their clitoris. The problem was that Rachel had this nice, sexy, soft belly and it sort of adhered itself to me so I couldn't easily get my hand down between us, especially since she'd locked her arms around my back in some kind of galactic death grip. I did my best to rub my pelvic onto her little on button but that only met with limited success.

It wasn't that she was complaining you understand. On the contrary, Rachel appeared to be willing for our little hump fest to go on all night. I knew this because she kept telling me so - loudly, and over and over - that she could fuck like this forever. And since she'd barely broken a sweat I had no choice, but to believe her.

That was a problem. Although I pride myself on having a fair amount of staying power and I did jog religiously three times a week, there was absolutely no way I was going to last for another fifteen minutes, let alone the time it looked like Rachel was looking forward to. 




Amy's Smile Ch. 02



Of course I could have just said to hell with her and got off while her engine was still running. But as I've mentioned before, I have this absurd compulsion to behave like a gentleman. And a gentleman doesn't ignore a lady even when the lady in question is howling like a dog in heat and using words like "Fuck my cunt hard, you big beautiful piece of meat!" Especially then.

I decided that a change in position was necessary if I was going to succeed in my goal of giving her a second orgasm before I had my own little death. It took some doing, but I finally got my rapidly numbing lips away from hers long enough to gasp, "Let go." I don't think she heard me though and it took a few more tries and finally a slight nip on her upper lip to get her attention.

"Huh?" She finally said.

"I want you on top," I said as I pulled my reluctant cock out of the tunnel it had become so at home in.

She giggled, "Okay."

This was much better and in no time at all my fingers were stroking her little love knot and she was gasping and plunging harder and harder down on my dick. Then with a squeal high enough on the register to shatter glass, she announced the arrival of her orgasm and I figured if it was that good for her, I might as well try one of my own.

We lay there sprawled over each other. Well to be honest, Rachel was sprawled, I was just trying to breathe with that suddenly dead weight draped over my chest. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore and pushed her now compliant body off of mine.

"Oh baby," she murmured already half asleep. "That was so hot. You were great."

I opened my mouth to offer my own compliments, when suddenly I stopped. She was right; the sex had been hot. But now that my brain was working again I realized hot or not, something wasn't right.

This thought took some time to soak into my endorphin saturated brain and I was worried I'd been thinking too long for politeness and that Rachel would think I hadn't liked her. I turned to Rachel to see if I could make up some bullshit to show her that I really did appreciate our romp on the wild side, but it wasn't necessary. She was asleep, snoring softly and completely unaware that I was even beside her, let alone going through some epiphany about the emptiness of anonymous sex. 

I leaned down and kissed her dark and now slightly sweaty dark curls. She giggled in her sleep and then rolled away from me. I knew what the only memory I was going to take away from this night - Rachel's giggles.

I slid from the bed and started to hunt for my clothes. After I found them I stumbled around until I found the bathroom and cleaned myself off, finally disposing of the full condom I'd been carrying around like a party favor. When I was dressed, I walked quietly into the bedroom and stared down at the woman I'd just fucked.

She was pretty and sweet and someday some guy would probably think she was the reason there were stars in the night sky. But it wasn't going to be me. It surprised me, but for a minute I was a little sorry about that.

I rummaged around until I found a piece of Kleenex and then with my pen I wrote her a messy note tearing the tissue, but not figuring it really mattered. I left her my phone number, but I wasn't worried that she'd use it. If I was honest about it, Rachel was no more enamored with me than I was with her. All night long there hadn't been anything more in her eyes than lust, and she was attractive enough to have plenty of numbers of guys that could help her out with that.

I called another cab and made my way back home to the now dark and empty (except for my lonely Subaru) parking lot at the bar. Then I climbed into the cold metal box and drove home through the quiet streets. I smelled like smoke and booze and Rachel and I wanted a shower to wash it all off. I was depressed. Sure I wasn't horny anymore, but I wasn't satisfied either. And I wondered how come.

But I was too tired to think about it at that point. So like Scarlet O'Hara I promised myself that tomorrow was another day. I showered quickly, but it only made me sleepier and I hit the sheets, swearing slightly when I rubbed up against the stiff parts that were leftover mementos from my dream of the night before. Vaguely I thought about getting up and changing them, but my eyes closed and the thought died with my first snore.

The next day I woke up grumpy, but more sanguine about the previous nights events. I figured it had just been an anomaly. I'd gone too long without sex and I'd built it up to be something it wasn't except in romance novels and bad soap operas. Okay, so maybe I was moving out of the need for one-night stands, but that was a sign of maturity - or at least so I've always been told. 

Except for my obsession with the bitchy Ms Dalrymple and the abortive, and short, romances with the two college lovely's I've mentioned before, I hadn't really attempted anything more with a woman then those encounters where the prime motivating factor was getting my dick wet. Even in the last couple of years when my old friends were jumping into the sea of matrimony like the water was really warm, I'd never even thought about settling down myself.

Not that I was thinking about marriage now. Uh uh, that was the farthest thing from my mind. The single life may not have been the fun it once was, but it was still a lot more appealing than saying something so radical as I do. What I needed, I decided, was a girlfriend. A real one, not like Kendra, who'd been more of a series of one night stands with the same woman, but a - God - could I actually mean a relationship? 

Yeah, I decided, I did; someone who'd be there for some of the other times when feminine company was a good thing. Of course, I thought some more, I'd have to figure out when that would be. Oh well, first things first. It was enough right now to just think about the girlfriend part, the rest would come later.

I schlepped around the duplex for the rest of the weekend thinking about this new squiggle in my grand plan. The more I thought about it the less I liked it and so like any red blooded American boy, I concentrated on more important issues like the upcoming bowl games and when the next Bruce Willis movie was going to be available at the tape store.

Work that week, was like work every week. I had to go out of town for two days on Wednesday. Three months on the job and I was getting sick of the traveling. It might have been okay if my time away had been spent in places like Denver and LA instead of Ponca City, OK and Butte, MT. 

It was the latter that I got back from late Friday. It was after 10 and the windows in the house were dark. I thought about another trip to John Barleycorn's, but I was too wiped to make the effort and even though I'd scrapped the idea of a relationship, I still wasn't horny enough to be ready for another "Hi, I'm Charlie, let's fuck" episode. I dragged my sorry ass up the stairs and dropped my clothes into a pile on the floor and crawled into my nice rumpled gray-sheeted bed - and yes I'd washed them, I'm not a complete sleaze. 

The next morning was gray and rainy. I love Chicago in December. By the time night rolled around, you'd probably need ice skates to get five feet past your door. At least, I consoled myself, I didn't have to go anywhere this weekend unless Liam had drunk all my beer again. 

I dressed for the day I was planning on. Sweat pants and my lucky Bulls shirt. My new, lucky Bulls shirt. They were playing the Warriors that afternoon so I was in a pretty good mood. Liam was going somewhere with Blondie, and I had the house to myself. The game was a few hours off, but I thought I'd get a head start with whatever was on ESPN. I was hoping for a really competitive sport like Cheerleading. Yeah, that's a sport, and SI's swimsuit edition is really a sporting goods layout. 

I had plopped myself on the couch with a beer (three left, it would have to do) and the remote when Amy came in. I smiled at her. At least this was one woman I didn't have to worry about as date material. Even if I lost my mind and started to think of her in that way, no way would she give up Liam. Amy, if nothing else, was a committed masochist.

"Hey," I said this casually, because I didn't know yet that life on this planet, at least as I knew it, was about to change.

"Hi, Charlie." 

I hadn't seen Amy much lately, she'd been off somewhere for most of the beginning of the week and then I'd been gone for the rest. I was surprised to realize I'd kind of missed her. Then I remembered our conversation from the previous Friday. "I thought today was the big day with Miriam?" 

"It is. I was just dropping off Liam's dry-cleaning. It's in the hall closet."

"Great, I'll tell him," I was only half listening. What is it they say, give a man a remote and he'll change the channel."

Amy came over and sat down next to me. "What are you watching besides the numbers flash by in the little box?"

I shot her a look of annoyance. If she already knew the answer, why bother asking the question? "Why haven't you left yet?"

"Marian had some errands; she said she'd give me a call here when she got done."

On cue, the phone rang. I picked it up like the innocent I am, and held it to my ear. "Hello?" 

There was a sound, no a shriek, that came out of that phone and stabbed through my brain and down my spine until every nerve in my body screamed back for mercy. All the spook stories my Irish granny had ever told me came back into my mind. It had to be a Banshee; no human could make that noise. 

"It's for you." I croaked.

"Thanks." 

Poor, dear, sweet, soon to be deaf, Amy took the phone into her unsuspecting hand. "Oh hi, Miriam."

That was Miriam? 

Amy listened and as I watched, I saw the happiness drain out of her face. 

"Oh, I'm really sorry. Of course I understand. Do you need anything? Do you want me to come over?" She listened for a moment and bit her lip. "No I couldn't; not alone."

She listened some more and glanced at me in a startled way as if Miriam had something that might involve...

Oh shit. 

Amy turned away from me and whispered something and shook her head. I took the opportunity to stick my finger in my ear and check for Banshee damage. Amy finally hung up and turned back to me.

Here we go.

"That was Miriam."

"Yeah, I figured that out." I was still checking the tip of my finger for blood. "What the Hell is wrong with her voice?"

"She sounds bad doesn't she? She was so hoarse."

"That was hoarse? You mean her voice gets higher?"

Amy nodded. "She's got a really bad cold. She thought she might be getting one yesterday at work. She's going to have to take it easy today."

I waited for the pleading. I waited for the begging. Amy stood and put on her coat. 

"Well, I better get going. Tell Liam about the cleaning, okay?"

Yes, I shouted silently, yes. She wasn't going to do it. She wasn't going to ask me to go with her.

"Wait." Oh God; I was possessed again. "Are you going to the mall now?"

"Well, actually I thought that maybe I'd wait." Her voice was matter of fact, but she was avoiding my eyes. "I can do it another time. It's no big deal."

"Amy..."

She smiled at me, but I could see the tears that filled those soft brown eyes. "Really Charlie, it's okay."

Come on man - let it go! My inner voice was yelling at me. She says it's fine. Don't be a pushover.

"Look," I said, "I know I won't be as much good as Miriam, but you've got your list, right? So why don't you let me go with you?"

Just call me Saint Charlie.

"Thanks but..."

"No buts, I insist." I would've said, it'll be fun, but even I had to draw the line somewhere.

"Okay, if you really want to." Amy smiled again, but this time like she meant it. She really did have a cute smile.

I stood up and got my coat and turned to her. She was frowning again.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Of course it's something, spit it out."

"Are you wearing that?" 

This, from a girl who was dressed like Francie, the bag lady, who panhandled in front of my office. 

I looked down at my lucky Bulls shirt and sweats and the ratty running shoes and socks. "Sure, why not?" I didn't see any problem.

"Nothing."

Back to nothing.

"What would you like me to wear?"

"Whatever you want."

I already was, so that answer was no help. "You have to do better than that, or I'm not changing."

Amy bit her lip and thought for a moment, "Wear your blue sweater, you know, the one with the v-neck."

"Alright, what else."

"That'll be fine."

"No, that'll get me arrested."

She giggled. "Some nice jeans," she finally added, "not those ones with the hole in the knee or your tan chinos might even be better. And your blue, plaid shirt."

"What socks?"

She giggled again. For someone who never paid attention to what they were wearing, Amy certainly seemed to have my wardrobe down pat.

I went and changed and picked out my own damned socks. Nobody was going to boss me around. I also took a minute to shave; I figured I might as well, because I knew that would be next. 

Fifteen minutes later, I was ready to go. I almost cried when I passed the remote, lonely and forlorn, sitting all by itself on the coffee table. If I'd know what was going to happen next, I would have.



Amy's Smile Ch. 03



You know the drill.  Don't read this if your underage, easily offended and/or living in a place where this type of material is against the law.  This is purely a figment of my overactive imagination and nobody in the story is real.  Also I'm going to be real honest with you.  It's going to be chapter five before anybody gets naked again.  But I promise I'll try to make the wait worth your while.

Have you ever been to a mall on a Saturday afternoon?  It's what Hell must be like if they serve cappuccino.  Even in high school, I was never a mall rat.  (I waited in the car, remember?)  Now, I looked around like I was an alien a billion light years away from my home planet.  There were so many people inside this one building, I wondered why the streets hadn't been empty on our drive over.  As it was, I think we ended up parking in Wisconsin.

I sighed to myself.  We were here so we may as well get started.  Amy must have been thinking the same thing because she pulled out her list.  I grabbed a map from the information center and we headed out to our first destination, the salon.

"Guido will be right with you."  The receptionist said after she'd checked Amy's appointment.

"Guido?"  I whispered.

"He's a friend of Miriam's cousin's landlord."  Amy whispered back.  "He's supposed to be really good and hard to book, but he squeezed me in 'cause of Miriam's cousin and all."

"Great, but Guido?"

"Hey," a deep voice, in a Brooklyn accent so thick it almost didn't qualify as English, said behind us, "how's youse doin' to-day?"

We both turned to get our first look at man of the hour.  My jaw dropped, whatever I'd been expecting, it hadn't been this.  Guido was not your typical hairdresser - in fact in the white bread suburbs around Chicago - Guido was not your typical anything.   He looked like Sylvester Stallone when he played Rocky Balboa the first time.  That is, if Rocky had been partial to gold chains and leather pants that were so tight they made my balls ache to look at them.

For his part, Guido looked us both over critically.  He raked me up and down once with his eyes, smirked and then he stepped up to Amy and took her chin and gently lifted it up.  His eyes narrowed.

"Jesus boom, babe.  What was ya thinkin' here?"

Amy stepped back and dropped her head hiding her eyes.  

"We were thinking," I said quickly, "of a haircut."

"Yeah, and?"  It was obvious from his expression, that Guido wasn't convinced a haircut would be enough.

"And ah," I looked nervously at Amy and then decided what the hell, there was no point in not pointing out the obvious.  "Ah, maybe something with her eyebrows."  Amy squeaked but I kept talking.  "Do you do that here?"

"Sure, dis is a full healt' and beauty salon, we'll wax da shit outta dem."

"No."

We both looked at Amy.  She turned pleading eyes on me.

"I don't want to do that, Charlie," she whispered pathetically. "I never said I'd do that."

Guido answered for me, thank God, "Babe, trust me; it's for da best."  He looked over her head and winked at me.  

Uh oh, I hoped that wink wasn't what I thought it was, or it was going to be long afternoon.  

Guido looked back down at Amy. He smiled kindly at her and stroked her cheek softly.  "Trust me sweet pea.  You'll like havin' two eyebrows, it's da style now."

Without another word, he led her over to the shampoo girl.  Amy went, but the look she shot me over her shoulder reminded me of blindfolds and firing squads.  Guido got her settled in the chair and patted her gently on the shoulder.  Then, like a hunter who's put his sights on dinner, he turned and sauntered back to me.

Shit.

"So," he crossed his arms and leaned nonchalantly against the wall, "how's about after I fix up da little friend here, we drop her off and go dancin'?"

He grinned at me and I grinned back.  I couldn't help it; I kinda liked the guy.  Well, I don't mean 'liked' the guy but...  Oh, you know what I mean.

"Sorry Guido.  You're not my type."

He watched as my eyes followed a curvy butt; attached to a tall brunette, walk away from us.  "You straight?"  

I wasn't that thrilled with the note of surprise in his voice, but I decided to ignore it on account of  - A, I'm a liberal and we don't think there's anything wrong with alternative sexualities and - B, because he looked like he could take me down with one punch. 

I grinned, "Oh yeah."    

"Geez," he shook his head, "hey sorry man, hope I didn't piss ya's off or nuttin'."

"Nah, don't worry about it."

"Usually I can tell - good gaydar - ya know?  It's just, when you came in wit da little girl, it kinda confused me.  I mean we don't get dat many good lookin' straight guys coming in here wit ugly women, ya know?"

My mouth tightened.  "Amy's not ugly."

"Okay not ugly, maybe just a little rough around da edges, right?"  He grinned, and studied me for a moment.  "But I'm bettin' she's hell in da bedroom."

Now, I was getting pissed.  "I wouldn't know."

Guido's eyes narrowed again.  "You sure you ain't gay?  Cause if it's just me you don't like den tell me so; I can take a hint."

Oh God.

"No, I'm not gay," I decided a little more information was in order.  "See, Amy's a friend, that's all.  I feel sorry for her.  And she's a great kid, real sweet and trusting.  She cooks too.  She's like this kitten and..."

Guido started to laugh.

"What's so damn funny?"

"You are cutie."

"Aw Jesus Christ, Guido, I told you, I'm not gay!"

"Yeah, I know, believe me I know."  But he was still smiling.  He looked at me for a few more minutes with his big grin still in place.  Then he shook his head and sighed and chuckled again.  

"Look," he pointed across the mall.  "See dat store over dere wit da red awning.  Dat's a sportin' goods store.  Dey gotta TV in da back room and dey always got some kinda game on.  Go over dere and tell 'em Guido says it's okay.  Den come back here in a couple of hours and you can check out what we worked out wit da little friend."

He waved towards Amy, who was done with her shampoo and was being led off to another area of the salon.  She was wearing a purple bathrobe that hung almost to her ankles and her hair was slicked back.  For the first time, Guido got a good look at her face.  He shivered.

"Jesus boom!"  When he turned back to me, I thought I saw pity.  

"I dunno," he shook his head. "But I'll try, man."  He slapped me on the shoulder and squeezed.  "I'll really try."

I shrugged my thanks and headed for the door.

"Hey Charlie."  

It was Guido again.  I turned.

"Ya wanna cappuccino to take whicha?"


~~~


The two hours was almost up and it was half time at Golden State, but I could see the game was over.  The phone rang and Bill, the manager of the store, yelled to me that Guido said to get my ass back to the salon.  

I got up and said goodbye to the guys and promised that next time, I'd buy the pizza.  I made my way across to the mall, which was about as easy as crossing the Dan Ryan at rush hour, and stepped through the doors.

The place was still packed, but when people saw me they shut up fast and started to smile.  Uh oh.  It took every bit of will power I possessed not to look down and check my fly.  In my experience, exposing yourself is the only reason people ever look at you with that particular type of shit eating grin.

Then Guido came around a corner.  He looked like he'd just gone 20 rounds with Apollo Creed, but apparently he'd won, because he was grinning and showing all of his 50 or so very white teeth.  Once again he winked at me, but this time I was pretty sure it wasn't a come on; then he turned his back and pulled somebody out from behind the wall.

I stared.

"I didn't tink dis would work," Guido said, "but once I got all da hair chopped off and da girls scrapped off most a dat eyebrow, we could tell dere was real good quality underneat'."   

I nodded dumbly.

"She's a pretty lil thing, ain't she?"

When I didn't say anything, Guido lowered his head menacingly and scowled at me.

"Well, ain't she?"

I swallowed, and tried to get enough saliva back in my mouth to be able to speak.  Every person in the place was frozen, looking at me, waiting to see what I was going to say.

"Uh, I... I..." I stood there with my mouth open.

"Sheesh," Guido rolled his eyes and muttered to no one in particular.  "Spit it out for Christ's sake.  We ain't got all day here." 

I looked at Amy and the rest of the room faded.  Pretty was not enough of a word to describe her.  Guido had cut her hair into some short, spiky, wavy, thingamabob that curled around her ears so that only the tiny pink lobes peaked through.  Her two eyebrows were arched like little wings over her eyes, which I supposed had always been big, but before, had been overshadowed by the hedge that grew over them.  Her face, now that the curtain was gone, was small and heart-shaped and her mouth was this soft full pink bow that stretched and curved to show small white teeth when she smiled.  God, she had a pretty smile.  No way in hell was Liam going to be able to ignore her now.  I tried to figure out why this thought was making me slightly nauseous.

"Charlie," Guido hissed.

My head shot up and I forced myself to walk over to the woman who bore no resemblance to the girl I'd dropped off a couple of hours before.  I tipped her face up and smiled down at her.  "You really look great."

So I'm not Cary Grant, sue me.

At least it got a smile out of Amy.  "You really think it's okay?"  She asked in a soft voice and all I could do was nod and try to remember to breathe when I looked at her. 

The crowd slowly started to drift away.  Guido stayed, but at least he'd stopped looking like he wanted to hang me up on the coat rack and punch me the way that other Italian Stallion had beat the shit out of that meat when he'd been training for the big fight.  "Okay now," he said abruptly turning practical. "Here's da plan for da rest of the afternoon." He turned to Amy.  "You got da list?"

She nodded.

"Great, ask for Sophie at Nordstrom's.  She's my cousin Vito's ex-wife's niece.  Great kid, she'll fix ya up."

He looked at me.  "And you, take dis lady and feed her lunch, she's too fuckin' skinning."

I nodded.

After Amy had thanked everybody twice, we finally made it out of the salon.  As we cleared the doorway, a cheer went up.  I looked across the mall to see Bill and the rest of the guys from the sporting goods store acting like the Cubs had finally had a winning season.  I turned around and raised my eyebrows at Guido.  

"Hey, I told 'em da deal here when I called for youse."  He shrugged.  "What can I say?  Dey admire my work."

~~~

We did eat lunch.  Amy didn't want to, but I insisted.  She had an appointment for a trim with Guido in six weeks, and I had a feeling if he didn't see some extra pounds on her by then, my ass was grass.  

We ate at a little French Cafe, with an 'outdoor' seating area that was lined with fake chestnut trees that fell over if you breathed on them.  The tables were right in the traffic route of the shoppers, so you had to hunch over your food to protect it from loose shopping bags and hungry children who grabbed for your pickle.  

Amy had a Monte Cristo and I chose the French Dip with Fries.  International cuisine at it's finest.  She ate half her sandwich, so I finished it up along with my own.  The food was lousy, but the conversation was interesting.

Of course, I did most of the talking, but it seemed a success from the expression on Amy's face.  I found myself pulling out the stops to entertain her; telling all my best stories.  I figured I owed her that much after our last meal together.  I was feeling pretty pleased with myself, until I noticed her eyes had stopped sparkling and the corners of her mouth were turned down.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

I sighed.  I knew what the problem was.  If I read Amy correctly, she was feeling guilty about enjoying herself.  When you're caught up in the throes of unrequited love, it's not enough to be miserable just when you're in the company of the one you feel unworthy of.  It's got to be a 24/7 kind of agony, or you feel cheated.

"You know, it's okay to have a good time, Peanut."

"What?"

"Just because you're not back at the house folding Liam's underwear does not..."

"Why do you always call me, Peanut?"  

"I don't always call you that."

"Yes, you do.  You called me that just now, and you said it a few minutes before that.  You're always calling me that."

Now that I thought about it, I realized she was right.

"Is it because I'm so little?  Like when Liam calls me, squirt?"  

She grimaced on the last word.  Funny, I'd always thought she'd liked it when he called her by that nickname.

"I hate that, you know."  She continued.  "I hate it when people make fun of my size; like I'm insignificant or something."

I was stunned.  I'd never heard Amy complain before, ever.

"No," I protested, "It's nothing like that.  I would never make fun of you."

"Uh huh."

I raked my fingers through my hair.  I wasn't lying; I didn't call her Peanut because I was teasing her.  The only problem was; the truth was embarrassing.

"Okay look, you want to know the real reason?"

Of course she did.

"The real reason is...  See, I used to have this cat."  Fuck, I was such an idiot.  I was going to tell her the truth.

"A kitten actually.  God, I loved that cat.  At night sometimes, I'd smuggle her up to my bed and she'd curl up with me."

I watched Amy's face soften.

"I was six, you understand - I was still little."  I could feel my face get redder.  "Anyway, it's Peanut, the kitten, you remind me of, not peanuts, the food."

"Oh."

"I won't call you that anymore, if you don't like it."

"No, that's okay."

"Really, I'll remember."

"Charlie, it's okay.  I like it, now that I know why."

"Well, great."

We sat there in silence and drank the last of our cappuccino.

"So whatever happened to her?"  Amy asked softly.

"Who, the cat?"

Amy nodded and I shrugged.

"She finally got sick of my sisters dressing her up in doll clothes and took off one day."

"Oh Charlie, I'm so sorry.  You must have been devastated."

"Not really," a lie - I'd cried for weeks.  "I knew whose fault it was."  

And, I knew how to get even, but that was a part of the story I had no intention of sharing with Amy.

"But the poor cat."

I snorted.  "Poor cat my ass.  She hopped it up the street to old lady Crockett's house.  For the rest of her life she had the best cuts of meat that money and Schultz's Butcher shop could provide.  Except on Sundays, when she got shrimp.  I'd see her sometimes sitting on a silk pillow looking out the window."  

"She died of old age my senior year in college.  Peanut - not Mrs. Crockett.  It was a huge funeral, the whole neighborhood attended.  My father still talks about it.  He swears that cat's tombstone at the Sleepytime Pet Cemetery is bigger than anything my mom will get for him.  My mom always laughs when he says this; but you can tell, she secretly knows he's right." 

"Charlie, you're making that up."  Amy laughed.

I grinned.  "Maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit, but the cat did move in with Mrs. Crockett, the meat truck was always in front of her house and she did have a funeral for the beast.  I think my mom will buy my dad a nice tombstone though.  Probably."

Amy laughed again and the waiter came up and gave me the check.  Holy shit, maybe the food wasn't French, but the prices sure were.  Actually, this whole mall was geared to strip you of your life's savings as fast as possible.  I looked at Amy; she must have paid plenty for that trip to the salon, and now we were getting ready to buy her a wardrobe.  I wondered if she knew how expensive that was going to be.

"Here, let me get that."  She grabbed the check out from under my hand.  

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not, this is my way of saying thank you for coming along today."

"You don't have to do that; I never expected you to."

She cocked her head and looked at me.  "Yeah, I know.  But I'm going to anyway."  

She flipped a credit card, platinum, onto the bill without even looking at it.  I got me back to thinking about the state of her finances.  I thought about the almost new Volvo she drove; I wondered if maybe I was wrong to worry.

"Amy, are your parents rich?"

"No," she looked at me surprised, "my dad's a retired college professor and my mom's a nursery school teacher."

I thought about that.  I asked another question.  "What do you do for a living?"

"I work in a bank."

"But not, I take it, as a teller."

She laughed, "No, I'm a CPA.  I'm in charge of the auditing department for the commercial loans division, why?"

"No reason," I mumbled. 

I don't know why I'd assumed that Amy was just as unsuccessful in her career, as in her personal life.  Apparently I'd been wrong; I wondered what else I'd been mistaken about.

We finished our drinks, and Amy got her card back from the bored waiter.  We headed on down to our next stop, Nordstrom's, which is not exactly a store for bargain hunters.  They had T-shirts in there that cost more than my suits.

A sloe eyed, black haired beauty who looked a lot like Elizabeth Taylor in her heyday, broke away from a group of women and approached us.

"Oh my Gawd!"  The beauty said in a perfect imitation of Fran Dresser.

What is this, I thought, had the entire population of Brooklyn moved to Chicago?

"I'm Sophie and you must be little Amy."  She said as she took Amy's hands in hers.

"And you," she turned to me, "are Charlie."

She then proceeded to stare at me until I felt that, check my zipper, impulse again.  Her eyes raked up and down my body until she reached my face and narrowed her eyes.  Did I say she looked like Liz Taylor?  Patton was more like it.  Apparently, whatever she'd been looking for was there, because she started to grin.  

"Yeah, okay," Sophie nodded.

It was the same nod and grin I'd gotten from Guido a couple of hours before.  It was beginning to piss me off that I wasn't in on the joke, but before I could call her on it she turned back to Amy.  

"All right kids, here's the deal."  She was all business now.  "Amy, Guido said you're about a size 2, right?"  

She didn't wait for an answer.  

"He says you're too skinny, but what do men know," she reached out grabbed about 6 yards of excess material that hung around Amy's waist and pulled it tight.  "Looks pretty good to me."

Sophie turned and walked behind a screen, rattled around for a minute and came back.  

"Here," she shoved a cup at me, "sit in that chair over there and wait for us."

Then she took Amy by the arm and led her off.  I looked down at my new cup of cappuccino, and sighed.

It took Amy three hours to try on everything they had in her size in the store.  Then it took another hour for her to decide what she could live without.  Which wasn't much.

I played no part in this production.  I sat in my little chair and looked at Vogue and wondered if I could slip out and go back to my new friends in the sporting goods store.  Amy was dragged from one department to another by Sophie, and an increasingly large group of experts who were intent on giving her advise.  Bags of whatever started to pile up at my feet.  I wondered if we were going to need to make two trips to get everything home.

Eventually, they were finished.  Amy stood in front of me in pair of jeans that actually fit and a pink sweater that matched her mouth.  I had to force myself again to tell her how nice she looked.

"Is that it?"  I tried to keep the whine out of my voice, but it wasn't easy.  

The salon had been a shock, but this day had really stopped being entertaining for me about the time I'd caught a glimpse of Amy in a tight red suit, with a very short skirt.  Yep, Amy had legs, two of them, and they were both beautiful.  Liam had once told me he was a leg man.




Amy's Smile Ch. 03



For the first time I realized that my half-assed plan was probably going to work and that was a circumstance I never planned for.  It seemed to me that suddenly there was a very good chance that Amy was going to get her heart's desire.  I mean yeah, Liam was a dumb shit, but even he had enough brains to yes to an offer like she was willing to make.

And though I wasn't willing to spend anytime thinking about why this bugged the shit out of me, I damned sure knew it did.  The thought of Amy and Liam together was about as disturbing as thinking about Michael Jackson in bed with um, anybody.  It just made no sense, my sweet, smart, funny little Amy with Liam the asshole?

"Only one more place, then we're through."  Amy looked at her list, which was, by that time, a little grubby.  

I sighed.  

She heard me and looked up guiltily.  "Oh gosh Charlie, I'm sorry, I know this can't be much fun for you."

Instantly, I felt contrite.  For once in her life, Amy was the center of attention and I couldn't even let her enjoy the moment.  I didn't know what it was about this girl, but she had the ability to reduce me to chivalrous mass of Jell-O in about 2 seconds flat.

"No Peanut, it's fine, really," I faked a genuine grin and winked.  "Just don't make me drink another cup of capuchin; I already think I need insulin."

She giggled and the world was right again.  "Okay I promise.  But we need to walk to the other end of the mall.  There's a nail salon there.  I could have had them done at the salon, but even Guido says this place is better," she continued.

"Wait," I grabbed her arm and Amy stopped walking and turned to look at me.  

"Are you sure about this?  I mean, don't do it, Peanut."  I said.  "You don't want those claws, do you?"

She thought about that seriously for a minute.  "Well no, but Liam always raves about Bambi's nails, so I thought..."

My shoulders slumped.

"Yeah, you're right, Liam does think they're hot," I agreed reluctantly.

"No, you're right."  She actually sounded a little defiant.  "I never have liked them and why should I get them just to please him."

Probably for the same reason you just dropped a couple thousand or so on a makeover, was my thought.  But I decided to keep that little insight to myself.  For some reason, it pleased me that Amy was not going to jump through this last hoop in her quest to snag Liam.

We finally said goodbye to the mall after I convinced her we really didn't need to go back and thank everybody again.  If they worked on commission I figured they'd get a big enough thank you in their next pay envelope.  

We dragged the gross or so bags we'd collected over the county line and finally found the car.  It was a tight fit, but we eventually managed to pack everything in and even had enough room for both of us to jam ourselves into the front seat.

The drive back was quiet.  Well, I was quiet, Amy never shut up.  She'd certainly blossomed in the last couple of weeks.  She was flying from the shopping extravaganza, and in spite of myself, I found I was grinning by the time she pulled up in front of the house.

"You coming in?"  I asked, but she shook her head no.

"I need to get home and figure out where I'm going to put all this stuff," her expression grew serious.  "And I want to give Miriam a ring.  I'm really worried about her."

Sweet Amy.  She was always going to be one of those people who took most of their pleasure from making other people happy.  That's why she was probably perfect for Liam, if, that is, he ever got it through his fat head.

On that depressing thought, I ejected myself out of the car, put the bags that had stuck to me back on the seat and said my good-byes.  She drove off into the sunset and I let myself into the house.



Amy's Smile Ch. 04



Liam was home. I didn't see him, but the shower was running and the pipes were doing their usual imitation of Niagara Falls. I plopped down on the couch and took a swig of the warm beer that was still where I'd left it and turned on ESPN. Ugh, tractor pulls are not my thing. I surfed the channels giving every station the standard 2-second shot at catching my interest; there was nothing on. I turned the TV off, and went up to my room.

Now that I really looked, it was kind of a pit. I walked over to where I'd stashed the Playboy and the scuzzy briefs. I picked them up and threw them both in the wastebasket. That was better. I figured if I could just take care of one thing a day, I'd have the room clean again in three, maybe four years tops.

I undressed and dropped my clothes in a ball on a chair. Then I got back into my sweatpants and a clean T-shirt, having already hung up my lucky Bulls jersey for next time. I do, after all, have some regard for the important things in life. 

Liam was out of the shower by then and I could hear him slamming drawers in his room. I thought he must have been going out with Broom Hilda again.

I went downstairs to check out the freezer for something I could maul and microwave. I was still risking frostbite with my head in the box, when I heard Liam start swearing.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

That was different. Liam was usually too lazy to get upset over anything. A second later, I heard him slam down the stairs and then he was in the kitchen, dressed in his tiger striped bikinis and peering into the dryer like it held the meaning of life.


"What's wrong?"

"I don't have any Goddamn clean socks." He slammed the dryer shut with a tinny thwack. "I can't believe it. Amy forgot about my socks!"

Yeah, I thought, there's a sin right up there with child abuse, genocide and destroying the ozone layer. Liam started rummaging through the pile of clean clothes I'd left on top of the dryer. Okay, the pile of clothes I keep, on top of the dryer. They might get dirty in my room.

He grabbed a couple of stray dark socks and waved them in front of me. "Are these navy or black?"

I looked at them for a minute.

"Both."

"Good enough," he started to push past me, but I stopped him.

"Hey, what's her phone number anyway?"

"Whose?"

"Amy's."

He gave me this really disgusted look like I'd just said the most idiotic thing he'd ever heard. Then he rolled his eyes. "Dude, she doesn't have my socks at her house."

"You know Liam, this may surprise you, but I really don't give a fuck about your socks."

"Whatever," he shrugged.

"I just want her number, okay?"

"I don't know it."

"How can you not know it? You call her every day."

"It's 2 on the speed dial. She put it there. Can I go now? I'm late."

He took off past me and thundered up the stairs again.

I went over to the phone and punched the # sign and then the 2. It was busy. She was probably talking to Miriam. 

This annoyed me though there was no reason it should. I honestly didn't know why I was calling Amy; I had nothing to say. In fact, when I thought about it, I didn't know what I would say if I actually got hold of her. I put the receiver back on the hook.

"Fucking H. Christ!" Liam screamed at the top of his lungs.

Now what? Were we out of toothpaste?

Down the stairs he stormed again. Except for my mismatched socks, Liam hadn't gotten any further in dressing.

"This is fucking unbelievable," he stormed, "she forgot to pick up my shirts at the dry cleaners."

Something inside me snapped, and it was my turn to go charging through the house. I jerked open the closet door and grabbed the shirts that Amy had hung there that morning.

"Here, asshole. Take the Goddamn shirts and get out of my sight." I threw them at Liam who caught them to his chest. 

He looked at me like I'd just lost my mind. "What's your problem?"

"You, you piece of shit; you're my problem!" I closed in on him and he backed up. I looked at the shirts he was holding and my eyes narrowed. "I'm sick of the way you treat that girl. Did it ever occur to you, that maybe you could take care of your own fucking laundry?"

I reached over and grabbed the receipt off the cleaning and waved it in his face. "Christ Liam, you even let her pay for this!"

It was true. Amy's name and address were on the slip along with an imprint from her credit card.

"Hey, I'll pay her back."

"Yeah right," I shook my head and stood there a moment until I could speak in a more reasonable voice. "She's a nice girl, Liam, really sweet, with a good heart. And you don't even know that about her. You don't even care!" I turned on my heel and grabbed my coat out of the closet. Liam was still trying to defend himself when I slammed the front door behind me.

Luckily, I'd had my keys in my coat pocket. I jerked open my car door and slid roughly into the driver's seat. Then I jammed the key in the ignition, slammed the stick into drive and squealed out into the traffic. I had no idea where I was going, you understand. I just knew I wanted to get as far away from Liam the asshole, as I could. 

I'd gotten about six blocks away when I realized I'd probably made a mistake. The rain was turning to ice now, and my predictions about Chicago turning into one big skating rink, were quickly coming true. One more block and a van up ahead fishtailed and slammed into a parked car at the curb. I took my foot off the accelerator and slid to a stop. 

There didn't seem to be any way around it, I was going to have to turn and go back and face Liam. Not that I felt I had anything to apologize for; my problem with going home was I couldn't stand the thought of seeing him for a while - like the next eight or ten years. 

I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel as I waited for the accident to clear. I looked around the car for a snack. It wasn't that unlikely, somewhere in the piles of cellophane and Mickey D bags, there could have been something edible. 

It was while I was looking, that I saw I'd thrown the cleaning receipt onto the seat next to me. I'd still been clutching it when I'd stormed out of the house. I picked it up and looked at it. Hmmm, it seemed Amy lived another block over. It only made sense to try to get there rather than drive all the way home, right?

The traffic started to move again. I had to make up my mind, take a right turn at the next one-way street and go home, or drive another block, turn left and double back to Amy's. I put my foot on the brake and slid right past the stop sign and through the intersection. Hey, I can recognize a sign from God as quick as the next guy.

It took 15 minutes to drive those two blocks. Finally, I pulled in front of a greystone that had Amy's address over the top of the door. This was a much nicer neighborhood than where I lived, even if it was only a couple of miles away. 

I got out of my door and fell on my ass. Oh, this was going to be a suave entrance. I managed to make it to the front door by practicing my old hockey skating technique, sans blades. God, I hoped she wasn't watching.

Of course she was. 

She met me at the door, her eyes wide and her hand holding a cordless phone to her ear. I stood on her stoop with a wet ass and a runny nose from the cold, and hair that was already getting a crust of ice.

"It's Charlie," Amy said into the phone, not at me.

She listened some more as I accumulated more ice. "Uh huh. Uh huh. Oh, no." She looked at me like a deer in headlights. "I couldn't."

"Sure you could," I said. "If it means I can come in."

Amy gasped and reddened, and jumped away from the door. I slid past her into the foyer.

"I have to go." She said into the phone. "I'll call you tomorrow," and she clicked the off button.

"That was Miriam; she's a lot better."

I leaned over and checked out her phone ear. "Can you hear me?" I whispered.

Amy giggled. "Of course I can hear you."

"Amazing," I shook my head and icicles flew off my hair and hit the wall.

"Oh gosh, Charlie, I'm, sorry you must be freezing. Come on in and I'll make you something warm to drink."

I followed her into her living room and stopped. It was nice, very nice. Like somebody really lived there. All my friends just sort of camped out with used furniture and a lot of plastic crates for color. Amy, however, seemed to have gotten her decorating ideas from somewhere other than Wal-Mart.

She had a red sofa and two blue stuffed chairs that actually looked like they were all meant to be in the same room. She had a coffee table and a bunch of other wooden furniture that was light and modern and looked like it had just been unloaded off a boat from one of the Scandinavian countries. There were pillows everywhere, nice fat ones in different shapes and covered in all kinds of crazy patterns in bright, primary colors. The lamps were modern and plentiful, and the pictures on the wall had real frames and there wasn't a sports figure or rock star on one of them. 

She even had knickknacks like my mom. Except Mom tends towards cute little figurines of kids with big eyes, while Amy had thick pottery and small, painted, wooden animals that I'd only thought could live in the mind of a Dr. Seuss. 

"This is really great," I said.

"Thanks, I've always liked this kind of decor; so when I got a bonus last year, I decided to splurge."

I shook my head. I was having a hard time connecting the girl, with the bag lady clothes, with the woman who'd put together this warm and sophisticated room. Of course, I suddenly realized, the bag girl was gone and the woman who stood in front of me matched the room perfectly.

"Have a seat," she said.

I started to sit on one of the chairs, but half way down I remembered my butt was still wet and I popped back up. Amy saw my predicament and went to get me a towel, but when she came back; she was holding a pair of sweat pants that would have been a little baggy on Namu the killer whale.

"I found these in the spare bedroom," she said. "My dad left them here when my folks visited last. Why don't you put them on and I'll put yours through the laundry?"

I looked at them skeptically. Maybe they'd work as a sleeping bag, but I didn't think they were going to be much use as pants since there was no way they were going to stay up over my ass.

"They have a draw string," Amy said, reading my mind.

I took them from her and went into the bathroom to change. Two minutes later I was back again, looking like I was wearing Oprah's fat clothes and tripping over the drawstring ends that now dragged on the ground. I handed Amy my wet pants and dared her to laugh with my eyes. She didn't even crack a smile, bless her.

"Well at least you'll be decent this way," she said.

Which was certainly true. It was hard to tell I had legs in all that material, let alone see any other parts of my anatomy.

I sat down and Amy disappeared again, but she was back soon with two mugs that steamed from whatever they held. Amy handed me one and I looked into it. Oh God, it was hot chocolate, and it even had two big marshmallows melting on the top. I moaned in delight, as I took my first sip.

"Oh good," she said, pleased, "you like it. I didn't know if you'd really rather have a drink, but I'd just made a pot of this, so I thought I'd take a chance."

We sat and chatted as we both drank up the ambrosia. I was a little surprised that Amy didn't ask me why I'd come over, but as I had no explanation for that myself, I didn't call attention to her lack of curiosity.

"Would you like to stay to dinner?" She asked and taking the gleam in my eye as an affirmative answer, went off to the kitchen to check on the meal.

I'd smelled something cooking when I'd arrived, but I hadn't been able to identify it. Now my interest was piqued. I followed her to see what was on the menu.

She was stirring a big crock-pot of something and I walked up and peered over her shoulder. It was split-pea soup. My mouth watered and I had to move back before I started to drool on Amy's shoulder.

"I hope you like this?"

"God yes. Do you eat this well all the time?"

"Sure." She ducked her head like she had a big dirty confession to make. "I love to cook. I know I'm probably not supposed to admit it because it makes me sound like some throwback to the 1950's, but it's the truth."

"Hey listen," I raised my hand, "your secret's safe with me. Of course it'll cost you a plate or two of linguini now and then, and the occasional pot roast, but my silence comes pretty cheap."

"What, no cheesecake?" She shot back. "It's my specialty."

I sank to my knees and raised my clasped hands to my chest. "Well damn, in that case, I think you'll have to marry me to guaranty my silence." 

Amy turned white. Oh shit, if I knew Amy, she was now worried that being here with me was in some way cheating on Liam. Which of course made no sense, seeing as how he was probably already out with Betty Boop wearing one each of my two best pairs of socks. I decided it would probably not be in my stomach's best interest to point this out to her however. I got up on my feet and poked at my pants. 

"Or maybe not." I pretended to be ignorant of the shocked look on her face. "I wouldn't want to have to wear these things for real."

She smiled nervously and turned back to the soup. I talked some bullshit until she started to giggle and we were back on safer ground. We ate at her kitchen table on dishes that matched. 

The soup was wonderful and I had to stop myself from having a third bowl. There were homemade biscuits that Amy whipped up in front of my eyes in a way that made me feel like a kid watching a magician pull a rabbit our of his hat. There was salad too. I'm proud to say I made that after I'd convinced Amy that I was competent to tear lettuce and slice tomatoes.

Amy made a pot of coffee and we took our cups back out to the living room. She apologized because there wasn't any cheesecake this time and promised to make it up to me at our next meal together. I told her I'd hold her to it, but really I wasn't that disappointed. By my count I'd had 5 cappuccinos and then there were the two cups of hot chocolate before dinner. I figured that was enough sugar to last me for the next decade or so.

I had to spread the fat pants I was wearing into a fan around my ass so I could sit comfortably and that reminded me of something I was curious about. "Your folks, they don't live around here?"

She shook her head, "I'm from Green Bay."

"A fellow cheesehead," I laughed, and then I explained. "I'm from Milwaukee. My brother Frank just moved to Green Bay though. He said it was because it was a good place to start a business, but I think he what he was really after was the ability to say he owns the Packers."

"Yeah," she agreed. "My dad is a huge fan. My mother won't go to the games with him anymore cause he's too embarrassing. She's says if the house ever caught fire, she'd be on her own because he'd be too worried about rescuing the picture of him with Vince Lombardi to remember she existed."

This sounded perfectly reasonable to me, but I could tell by the expression on Amy's face that it probably wouldn't be a good idea to say so.

"You have brothers and sisters?" I thought it was safer to change the conversation.

"No, unfortunately. My parents were both in their forties when they got married. To say I was a surprise is an understatement, there was no way they could have more kids." She shrugged. "I always wanted sibs though."

I snorted, "That's because you didn't have them."

"You come from a big family?"

"Yup," I nodded. "There are five of us. Which seemed like four too many when I was growing up."

"Five? Are your folks Catholic?"

"Un uh, just very, very fertile and pretty unlucky when it came to contraceptives. My mom always said if she could have talked my dad into a vasectomy, my brother, Frank, would have been an only child, so I guess since I'm the youngest, I should be grateful the old man is afraid of needles."

"Aw," Amy grinned evilly at me, "you're the baby!"

I looked at her disgustedly. "I'm the tallest and biggest and I think that the term baby no longer applies to me."

"I'll bet your mother doesn't agree."

She was right, but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of telling her that. "So make me jealous; what was it like growing up as an only?"

"It was okay," but I didn't really think that was the truth by the look on her face. She saw that I'd noticed and went on. "Look, my folks are wonderful, they really are, and they just love me to death."

"Smothered you, eh?"

She giggled, "Oh yeah. Like I said, I was a real surprise, a miracle baby, my mother still calls me, and sometimes it's hard to take being treated like you're the second coming."

"Trust me," I raised one eyebrow. "I wouldn't know. By the time I came around, my folks were so relaxed about having kids they didn't even have a name picked out for me. They let my sister, Monica, who was five at the time, pick and she chose Charlie, well Charles really, at least that's what it reads on the birth certificate."

"It's a nice name."

"Well it's better than what Frank, who was seven, wanted to name me."

"Which was?" Amy asked.

I sighed, "Hoss. Bonanza was his favorite show."

Amy had the nerve to laugh. "What about the other two, didn't they have any opinions?"

"The twins? They were four and didn't have much of a power base in the family to push for anything special, but I think my mom told me one time that Corey was partial to Mr. Greenjeans and Samantha thought Lassie would be even better." 

"So it's hereditary."

"What is?"

"Your being nuts."

I opened my mouth to protest, but then I thought about my family and decided this was not an argument I could win. "So what about you? Where did your name come from? Did your folks sit up nights with baby books or did your mother always dream of having a little girl named Amy?"

"I was named after my grandmothers, Amelia and," she screwed up her face. "Gertrude."

"Oh that's just wrong," I laughed.

"Tell me about it," she agreed. "And you don't know the worst. Amelia is my middle name."

"Gertrude Amelia? I thought your folks were happy you came along?"

She nodded, "Oh they were, but in the interest of being completely fair to both grandmothers, they decided to flip a coin to see whose name went first. Gertrude won."

"And you lost."

"First days of the school year were horrible," she admitted. "But don't get me wrong, I had a good childhood. My mom was great, she taught me how to cook and my dad was one of those dads who would read to me every night. They really tried their best."

"Sounds like it," I said, though I had this sneaking suspicion that for all their trying, Amy had, had a pretty rough time of it somehow. "My dad only reads the sports page and the sum total of my mom's baking is knowing how to open a Chips Ahoy package."

"Still," she said wistfully, "it must have been nice growing up in house with all those people... really lively."

"Really noisy is more like it."

"Sounds good to me. Our house was always so quiet."

I could see it then, a little girl with pointy ears creeping around an empty house trying to blend into the silence. And on top of that, she had folks who were as old as most of the other kid's grandparents and so in awe of having her that they treated her more like a valuable piece of porcelain than a little kid who sometimes just needed to be thrown up in the air and tickled. 

She must have always felt like she was different. This was before the Baby Boomers had decided the way to have kids was to wait until you were too old to naturally fuck your way into parenthood and so, after buying the BMW, they'd spend six years in a doctors office, the guy beating off in a cup and the woman flat on her back, her legs in stirrups and a turkey baster stuck up her pussy. Which works, but still it kind of takes the fun out of having more than one or two kids.




Amy's Smile Ch. 04



In the seventies, the vast majority of women were still having their children in their twenties and always more than one. Amy would have had freak status as an only. The other kids would have sensed it too, and with the natural horror the little bastards had for anyone who wasn't exactly like everyone else, they'd have stayed away. 

No wonder she was hung up on Liam, he was probably the first person who made her feel like she halfway fit in. The problem with that was, he didn't do it because of any real acceptance on his part - he was just so wrapped up in his own huge ego that he'd think anyone was okay who held the same high opinion of his superiority as he did. I looked at Amy in the soft glow of the lamp beside her. She deserved better than that.

The conversation had grown heavy and now we sat there in silence. I could tell Amy wasn't exactly comfortable with all this so I did my schtick and was gratified to see her giggling again in a few minutes. I was careful to keep the rest of the evening light. Amy and I had become strangely close in the last few weeks, but there were some places it was better not to go. At least, not if we wanted to keep things more or less the way they were. And I was pretty sure that's exactly what Amy wanted.

The clock in the hall struck eight. I figured that was my cue and stood to leave. My pants were dry and I exchanged them for Jabba the Hut's sweats. Amy and I said our goodbyes and I put on my coat and headed out the door.

Well, I tried to anyway. The door appeared to be stuck. Amy stood by and watched as I gave it a mighty pull. It sounded like glass breaking, but her door was solid wood. I looked at the outside panel. A sheet of ice about an inch thick had completely coated the front of the greystone. 

"Oh gosh!" Amy stuck her head out the door and looked around at the ice palace her house had become. "And look." She pointed.

My car was now one with the street. A cascade of ice spilled over the hood and anchored it to the ground. There was no way I was driving my Subaru Popsicle anywhere.

"Gosh Charlie," she whispered, "looks like your stuck with me."

Like I said, this is always how my life works. 



Amy's Smile Ch. 05



"Well you better come back in," Amy said practically.

She tugged on my arm and I backed up into the house. Which was a good thing, because I probably would have stood out on that porch with my mouth hanging open until I was an ice statue myself. 

"I'll call a taxi," I said idiotically, as if any cab driver in his right mind, and yes, even the majority who aren't, would be out on a night like this. 

Amy wisely ignored me. "You can use my spare room. The ice will probably be gone by morning and if not, we'll figure something out."

I followed her back into the living room and sat down on the red couch. I realized she was right about me not going anywhere, but I wasn't sure spending the night at her house was such a good idea either. It had finally occurred to me, somewhere around my third roll and second bowl of soup, why I had been acting the way I was. 

I liked her. I mean I really liked her. And if you think I'm just a shallow son of a bitch who was only interested in her now that she was good looking, think again. Because the most amazing thing was, I realized that I'd liked her for a lot longer than just the five or six hours since our visit to the mall. In some way, I think I'd been attracted to her almost from the first. I have no idea why, you understand, but still, I was pretty sure it was true. And nobody could've been more surprised than me. 

I was even regretting that Amy had done the whole ugly duckling to swan routine. Not only because of Liam, but because I was worried that even if I did have a chance to make Amy change her mind about him, she'd always think I only did it because of her outside and not because I thought she was the most adorable, sweetest, smartest girl I'd ever known. Oh shit, I had it so bad. If I didn't watch myself I was going to break into a song. And trust me; that would not be a good thing.

"What would you like to do?" the voice I was fast becoming addicted to asked me.

"Whatever you want is fine with me," is what I said. If I'd been honest, I'd have told her I wanted to take her to her bedroom and make love to her until she forgot she'd ever known a guy named Liam.

"How about a movie?" Amy continued oblivious to my lecherous thoughts. "I've got a DVD player."

I perked up at that. I'd wanted one of those puppies since they'd come on the market, but I hadn't gotten around to buying one because my TV was so old it didn't even have a cable jack and I didn't think the old girl would survive the shock of being plugged into something that had been manufactured in the last decade. 

Besides, a movie was safe. At least I'd be staring at something besides Amy, thinking of car chases rather than trying to come up with ways to get her out of those tight jeans.

"That sounds great."

"Okay, it's in here." Amy led the way into another room at the back of the flat.

"Wow!" I looked around at the media room of my dreams.

"Yeah, I know, it's little much," she laughed nervously. "I've always been sort of a movie nut and I've been collecting them for years."

She wasn't kidding. I've been in a Blockbuster's that wasn't this loaded. The room had probably been a bedroom at one time, but Amy had put up shelves on every wall. They were packed with VHS tapes, floor to ceiling. The only spaces that weren't filled were the one window, which was covered in a heavy drape, and the one wall, where she had a 36"-inch Sony, two VCR's, the aforementioned DVD player, speakers and enough stereo equipment to give a teenaged boy a hard on.

"Wow," I repeated.

"It's really not that big a deal. I get most of the movies used," she continued to protest.

I walked over to one of the shelves and started to browse. She had them all indexed both alphabetically and by genre. The section I was looking at was a special one for Collector sets. I saw all the Die Hard's, the Godfather series and the Star Wars Trilogy. Then I saw something that made my heart leap: Mystery Science Theater 3000 - at least 10 tapes. If I hadn't had a crush on Amy before, this would have done the trick.

"Oh wow!"

"Stop saying that. You're making me feel like a freak."

"Sorry." I grabbed the tape in front of me. "Could we watch this?"

Amy leaned over and looked at the title. "Manos, the Hands of Fate?"

I nodded dumbly and tried not to sink to my knees to beg. Not that I wouldn't do it if I needed too, but I was hoping groveling wouldn't be necessary.

"Sure. Do you want to watch the tape or the DVD?"

"You have both?" My voice broke in joy.

Amy nodded and went to the closet next to her entertainment center. She opened it and turned on a light. The closet was a double and like the walls around it, it was packed with movies, only this time they were all DVDs. I had to bite my lip from saying wow again. No way did I want to piss off the woman who owned a DVD copy of Manos, the Hands of Fate, the best/worst movie of all time.

Amy reached into the closet and like a conjurer, pulled out her copy of the classic. She walked over to the player and popped it in. I just stood there with my mouth open until she turned back to me and motioned that I should sit down.

I looked around the room and for the first time noticed there was furniture in it. Well some anyway, a small scarred coffee table that was barely big enough for the TV Guide and six remote controls it had resting on it, and a huge plaid couch that had to have been made for an earlier race of people who's average height must have been around eight feet. It was old and shabby and I immediately felt like I was home. I did wonder however, why Amy would pick something so big for her tiny body. This thing was so huge I thought I'd have a hard time making my feet touch the ground; she must have felt like a pygmy in it.

"I know it's weird." She saw the way I was looking at the sofa. "But it has its compensations."

Amy moved to one side of the stuffed behemoth and leaned over the side. There was a groan and, on one side, the front panel pulled up as the back angled down. It was a recliner. 

"It's really just three recliners hooked up together."

"Oh wo... Gee, that's great."

I went to the other side and found the handle. Then I settled myself into the vast cushions and pulled the lever. With a thwack, I was transported to an astronaut's take- off position. Heaven, here we come.

Amy dimmed the lights to a hazy glow and expertly pushed a couple hundred buttons on three or four remotes until the TV got that blue screen we all know means a movie is on the way. 

Amy sat down on the far end of the couch. She didn't take a flight position herself, but instead, curled up with her feet tucked under her butt. It was a good thing the couch/recliner was about eight feet wide because I had this almost irresistible urge to stroke her head to see if she'd purr.

After going through all the usual intro bullshit, the familiar MST3K space cadets showed up on the screen and the movie started. It was just as awful and stupid as I remembered it. I laughed my ass off. I even forgot about my new -found attraction for Amy. Well, that is until a half hour into it. She suddenly remembered she was suppose to be a hostess.

"Do you want a beer or pop or anything?" She asked.

"Nope, I'm fine."

"Sure? I could make some popcorn while I'm at it."

Hmm, popcorn... I'll bet she used real butter too. "Well, if you're really sure you want to fool with it," I gave in, though I was still so stuffed from dinner, I had no idea how I was going to pack in anything else. But you always have room for popcorn, or wait, that's Jell-O, isn't it? 

Amy got up and started out of the room. I looked down at the remotes and tried to figure out which one would stop the movie. There were so many on the table I wasn't sure what was what. For all I knew there was one there that would start a chain reaction nuclear meltdown that would destroy the world. I got up and followed her out to the kitchen.

She seemed surprised to see me. I figured that out when she screamed as she turned around and saw me standing behind her.

"Charlie!"

"Oops, sorry," I apologized, "didn't mean to scare you."

"Is everything okay?" She asked. "What do you need?"

"Nothing. You forgot to stop the movie and I didn't know how to do it myself." Or dare to, - there was that chance of meltdown.

"Oh that's okay. I've seen it before."

"Well, so have I. And that's no reason why you should have to miss half of it because you're waiting on me."

"I don't mind." She smiled at me and I frowned back.

"I know you don't," I finally said. "Why is that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why do you think that you have to always play second-string? When is it your turn to come first?"

"Oh Charlie, don't start!" She shook her head and turned back to load the popcorn popper, then she opened the refrigerator door and grabbed something inside. 

I was right, real butter. 

"I'm not starting anything."

"Yes, you are. And I know where you're heading too," she turned back to me. "But you know, just because I bought a few clothes and cut my hair, doesn't mean I've changed. Not me, inside." She pointed to her chest and my eyes followed her hand to those sweet little breasts that... 

I dragged my eyes back up to hers and tried to concentrate on what she was saying about her inside, instead of contemplating what her outside looked like. I was only partially successful, because the view of her newly de-hedged face was even better than her figure.

"...I know what I am, Charlie. And most of the time, believe it or not, I'm happy with that. I..."

"You should be," I interrupted.

"What?" Amy looked at me surprised.

"I said you should be happy with who you are. You're great."

She stared at me and I watched as a slow pink flush colored her little face. "I thought you didn't think so," her voice was faint and she'd dropped her eyes to stare at the fascinating starburst pattern of the green linoleum floor.

"When did I say that?" I protested. "I never said that."

Amy didn't answer me right away, but when she did her voice was stronger, even a little challenging. "Maybe not in so many words, but you have to admit the intent was there," she tilted her head and closed her eyes and started to recite like she'd memorized a list. "I'm not aggressive enough, I'm too accommodating, and I let people walk all over me..."

"Not people, just Liam."

Amy froze. Slowly she raised her head until her eyes met mine. I noticed her cheeks were flushed and her lips trembled. I was afraid I'd done my usual efficient job of making her cry, but when she spoke her voice was soft and steady.

"Liam is the closest thing I've ever had to someone who cares about me just because they want to and not because they're related or my employee or whatever. You think he's awful, but at least he's always acknowledged I exist."

I shook my head. "No, you're wrong, I don't hate Liam. I just don't think he's good enough for you."

It was my big chance. All I had to do was keep going, just one more sentence. Tell her why I felt that way, tell her Liam wasn't good enough, but maybe I was. Or could be, if she'd give me the chance. 

"I always loved him. Maybe you think that was wrong, but at least it gave me something to hope for." She looked at me smiled gently. "Life would be pretty boring without dreams, even if you eventually realize that's all they are."

Aw Jesus!

"Yeah Peanut, I know," I sighed.

Amy stood and stared at me like she was waiting for more pearls of wisdom to drop out of my mouth. But what could I say? I didn't have the guts to spill out my own feelings for her and there was no way I was going to agree with her about Liam. Her shoulders slumped and she turned away from me. The popcorn was done. Without another word, we went back to the movie. It wasn't as funny as I remembered it being.

It was still early when it ended. For the first time since the kitchen, Amy spoke though all she said was, "Did I want to watch something else?" I nodded yes, but told her to pick this time. I didn't care what it was. I hadn't even been paying attention to the last film. I'd been too busy feeling sorry for myself. 

It wasn't fair. How did Liam rate? I was the guy who'd stayed with her and comforted her and taken her to meet Guido, the Rambo hairdresser. For the first time in years, I was back to being that little guy who'd adored Johanna Dalrymple. Only this time it was worse, because Amy was somebody who was really worth having.

The movie was about half over before I realized what it was, Pretty Woman. I know it's a chick flick, but I'd always kind of liked it, mainly because Julia Roberts is the movie star that most often shows up in my fantasies. I like it enough that I even rallied and paid attention to it. Amy was watching too. At least her eyes were glued to the set whenever I snuck a glance at her. And at the end, I couldn't help but notice that she had to wipe her eyes on the sleeve of that fluffy pink sweater.

"You know," she said as the credits rolled, "that's kind of like me, with the makeover and all. Except for one big difference."

"Yeah," I snorted. "You're not a hooker."

"You can say that again," she agreed almost sadly.

The credits rolled and we were silent for another minute.

"Charlie?"

"Uh huh."

"Can I ask you something sort of embarrassing?"

Shit. 

Oh what the Hell, embarrassing had been the main theme to our friendship so far. How much worse could it get?

"Okay."

"Have you had a lot of sex?"

Oh, thaaaat much worse. "I've had my fair share," I said cautiously.

"And have any of the woman you've been with been virgins?"

"Um, no," which was the truth; inexperience had never been a turn-on for me. 

I know there are guys out there that specialize in slaying hymens, but the thought frankly terrified me. The whole idea of bad sex combined with emotional minefields, always left me cold. And everybody knows what happens to your cock, when you're cold.


"That's what I was afraid of," Amy sighed. 

My dim little mind started to get the drift of why we were having this conversation and it kind of pissed me off. Not only was I not going to get my chance at Amy because of Liam, but now I was going to be relegated to the position of best girlfriend. This was not the relationship I had in mind.

"Amy, I really don't..."

"Oh please, Charlie. Just one more question." She turned those big brown eyes on me and begged silently. 

Well, shit.

"All right, but that's it." 

What the hell, I knew the question. If I thought that her inexperience would be a deterrent with old Liam. I'd just lie and tell her no, though now that I thought about it, it probably wouldn't be that far off the mark. Liam struck me as the kind of guy who'd like the idea of busting her cherry. Hell, he took everything else she gave him, why not that?

"Would you sleep with me?"

"Huh?" I stared at her dumbfounded. What the hell was happening here? 

"Never mind, it's probably a bad idea," Amy stood and looked like she was ready to run. 

"Oh no you don't," I struggled to grab the handle on the side of the couch to put the leg rest down. It suddenly released and the force catapulted me onto my feet. Amy edged towards the door, but I caught her arm before she could escape.

Why was Amy offering herself like this when she'd already made it clear that Liam was still the man of her dreams? And when had our movie night turned into a Fellini film?

"You don't get to say something like that and then run away," I continued.

"I wasn't running away." She wouldn't look at me.

"Peanut," I took her chin and tipped it up so she was looking at me, "talk to me."

Amy jerked out of my grip and stepped back. I smiled at her and tried to look encouraging. Apparently, I was successful because she hunched her shoulders and started to speak.

"I've never done anything with anyone," she admitted this like it was a big revelation to me. "In high school no boy seemed to even realize I existed and college wasn't much better. Oh, I met Liam and he at least paid attention to me, but even I couldn't delude myself into thinking that he liked me like a girlfriend. I... I keep hoping for somebody, but it never happens," she swallowed hard, "I don't want to wait anymore." 

The right thing would have been for me to tell her that someday she'd find the man she was looking for, maybe even asshole Liam would figure out that he was missing the best chance he'd ever had. Yeah, that was what I should have done. Instead, I opened my arms.

"Are you sure?" I asked as I pulled her close.

"I'm positive. And don't be worried I'll think this is something it isn't," she looked at me with those big dark eyes. "You're the nicest man I've ever met. I wouldn't do anything to ruin our friendship."

I didn't give a damn about our so called friendship, but still that little speech almost made me give up on the whole idea. Granted I wasn't the one who'd come up with this weird scenario, but I was going along with it since it would accomplish something I really wanted: namely, Amy naked in a bed with me: sweet, kind, trusting Amy. 

Jesus. 

"Peanut, I..."

"Charlie," her voice was so soft I had to stoop to hear it. "Could you just shut up and kiss me?"

And since my face was already in position, I did.

I'm not going to tell you the earth moved. There were no bells ringing in my ears and no birds suddenly appeared to circle over our heads. At least, I don't think so. 

What I do know is that the moment I touched that soft pink mouth, I forgot all the reasons why I shouldn't be doing this. Amy's arms wrapped around my neck and I hugged her tightly to me. When we finally finished the lip lock, her cheeks were flushed and both of us sounded like we'd just realized there wasn't enough oxygen in the room.

"Is it always like this," Amy murmured as she nuzzled my shirt.

"No," which was all I could think of to say since my brain had generously donated all it's blood to an organ lower down my body.

"I'll try to do better," she said, misunderstanding me.

Christ, if she got any better, my dick was going to explode. Which, when I thought about it, was the point.

"Where is your bedroom?" I whispered.

"Down the hall, why?"

I almost told her I was looking for decorating ideas before I realized she wasn't making a joke. I pulled back, raised an eyebrow and looked at her. It took a minute, but it finally dawned on her.

"Oh..."

"Amy, if you're not sure about this?" I swore to myself, this was the last gentlemanly act I would pull that evening. I only prayed to God that she wouldn't take me up on it.

Apparently He was listening, because Amy didn't back out. Her cheeks were red, but she shook her head no and took my hand. We walked silently down the hall until we came to a door. Amy opened it and stepped in. I followed.

It was a great room and a hell of a lot neater than my own. But I wasn't really interested at looking at furniture right then. I watched as Amy walked over to the bed and started to pull pillows with shams off of it. I was surprised when she reached over and turned on the light.

After a second, I walked up to stand behind her. She flinched when I put my hand on her shoulder, but didn't resist when I pulled her back up and turned her around.

"Remember, this is first for me too," I told her, "so I guess we're both a little nervous."

"It always sounds a lot easier when I've read about it," she agreed.

I laughed. "Harlequin, right?" I knew all about those little missives of love after growing up with three females in the house. 

"No, the Net."

Again my eyebrows shot up. Amy stared back looking embarrassed, but defiant. "Well, Marion suggested a few sites and then I found a few others myself, and really, it's pretty interesting and some of the writing is not bad and it's not like there's anywhere else I can find out anything. I mean I read some textbooks, but they're so dry, you can't even figure out if some of the stuff is even fun and..."




Amy's Smile Ch. 05



I stopped her with another kiss. So Amy read porn. No wonder she was curious. I just hoped she realized that multiple orgasms and 11-inch cocks aren't as common in real life as they are on ASSM. 

She sighed and snuggled in closer. I deepened the kiss as my hands moved down to the hem of her sweater. Then I reached under it and stroked the smooth skin of her back. She was so tiny. I'd never been with anyone who felt so fragile in my arms. I began to worry about crushed pelvic bones and broken ribs. Once again I might have tried to back down, but Amy distracted me by breaking off the kiss and stepping back, magically shedding her sweater as she did so.

Her bra was pink, the same shade as her sweater, but instead of angora it was made of lace. I could see dark, rosy nipples through the sheer fabric and my cock immediately became a pointer to show my hands were he thought they should go. I obediently obeyed and reached out and cupped one small, perfectly formed breast and was pleased to find it fit into my hand just the way I liked it. My thumb moved to stroke lightly against the nub and Amy shivered.

I reluctantly pulled my hand back and twisted my arms to lift my own shirt over my head. Then I started to undo my belt, but at that point Amy shook her head.

"What?" I asked thinking if she was going to change her mind now, I'd have to take a long cold shower, like for maybe a week.

"Can I do that?" 

"You want to finish undressing me?" 

Thank God. I've never cared much for cold showers.

"Unless you don't want me to?"

I raised my arms in surrender. "Be my guest."

Amy inched forward until she could reach my buckle. It took her a few tries, mainly because of the nibbles I was making on her neck. They tickled and kept distracting her. Eventually, though she managed and slid the leather out of its loops. Then her hands were unsnapping the button on my jeans. 

"Careful," I warned gently and then I took her hand in mine and guided it down over the lump under my zipper to show her why caution was necessary. 

She looked at me with huge eyes as she got the message. Gently she pulled down the zipper, working it over the bulge of my hard-on. I groaned as my cock finally started to escape the tight space it had been forced into. Amy misunderstood and jumped back.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It feels great," I assured her.

"I just don't want to do anything wrong."

I took her face in my hands, "Peanut, trust me, you can't do anything wrong."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," she muttered.

I laughed softly and kissed the tip of her nose. "There's an old saying, - 'The worst sex I ever had was still better than the best anything else I've ever done.'"

She frowned. "That doesn't exactly make me feel better," but she went back to working on getting my pants off anyway.

Eventually she succeeded and my jeans slid low on my hips giving her a good view of my underpants. Oh shit, when I'd gotten dressed I hadn't been planning on a show and tell with Amy, or anyone else for that matter. I was just going for clean, not sexy. There was silence as she looked at what she'd revealed.

"Charlie?"

"My grandpa gave them to me last Christmas," I mumbled. "He's a little weird since he had that stroke a couple of years ago."

"Uh huh," Amy replied, still looking at my briefs as if she couldn't believe them.

Not that I blamed her. I mean, how often does anybody see underwear featuring an upside down squirrel with his cheeks stuffed full of nuts and under it the saying, "IT'S ALL IN HERE". Thank God I'd at least had the sense to rip off the fuzzy tail that had been sewn onto the waistband.

The staring went on a little too long and my cock started to droop from the scrutiny. Amy finally drew in a long breath and reached for the elastic on the pants. That got little Charlie's attention and he jumped back up to give the usual salute he reserved for women and porn films. Amy bit her lip, but brave girl that she was, she didn't falter and the squirrel disappeared into the folds of the material as she slid the briefs and my jeans over my ass until gravity took over and they fell to a pile at my ankles.

"Oh, thank God!" She whispered.

"Oh," I said modestly. "It's really not that big."

"No, it's not, is it?"

I frowned. This wasn't the comeback I'd expected. "Well, it's not that small either."

She looked up and smiled. I wasn't sure I liked that smile.

"Oh, I didn't mean anything," she explained. "It's just that you always read about guys with these huge ones and then Miriam had suggested that I go buy a cucumber to, you know, but when I looked at them, they were so enormous I didn't think... So I bought zucchini instead, but I was so worried," she looked down again. "It's smaller than the cucumbers."

"Maybe a little," I agreed reluctantly.

"A lot smaller."

"What the hell kind of cucumbers are we talking about here, Italian?"

"No, just regular cucumbers," she smiled again, encouragingly this time. I still didn't like it. "But it is bigger than the zucchini."

That was something, I guess.

"Okay, my turn." 

I didn't wait for a response; I just reached around her and unsnapped her bra. Amy gasped and then shivered as I gently slid my hands to the straps and eased them off her shoulders. The momentum I'd started continued and the bra slipped off. Amy watched as I took in the gentle swells that started high on her chest and ended in small deep pink nipples that puckered immediately from the cold, and I hoped, lust.

"Okay?" She asked shyly.

I admit, for a moment I was tempted to go with a discussion about grapefruit and lemons, but I'm not a petty man. Besides, citrus wasn't nearly as exciting as the luscious flesh I was looking at. 

"Perfect."

After that, I kicked away my pants and hopped out of my socks, which caused her to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop from giggling at the impromptu dance my cock decided to put on. Then I turned my attention back to her. It didn't take me a minute to finish stripping her and the result was anything but disappointing.

Amy was perfect. I hadn't been lying. She was thin, true, and her frame was tiny, but everything was there and in the right places. I couldn't believe I'd ever thought she had a bony ass. It was plump and round and my mouth just ached to take a bite of it. All in all, Amy was just about, well perfect. Just to make sure I ran my hands over her torso. Yup, perfect.

"Shouldn't we get into the bed now?" She interrupted my Braille imitation.

Since all we had to do to accomplish this was to sit down, we were done in a second. Amy slid over to the center of the bed and I followed.

"Charlie? Can I touch you?"

If she didn't, I thought, it was going to be a long night. "Peanut, I'm yours."

She looked at me so seriously, I was afraid I'd blown it. But then she smiled her beautiful smile and leaned over and kissed me.

I'd have been happy to keep on with that, at least for a while, but Amy had other plans. She sat up on her knees and looked at me like she was starving and had just stumbled into an all night diner. Tentatively, her hand reached out until her fingers could stroke the small patch of fur on my chest. I twisted a little in response.

"Is that okay?" She asked.

"I told you before," I responded, my voice suddenly husky. "It's all good."

She nodded, apparently satisfied I was telling the truth. She stroked my pelt for a few minutes then suddenly seemed to get interested in the small arrow of hair that led to the Promised Land. But instead of using her hand, she bent down and started to trace the path with her tongue. I moaned in encouragement, though to be honest, she didn't really seem to need any. And some people think reading porn is bad for you.

Slowly Amy continued down my chest and belly. I grabbed the sheet that was bunched under my hips and fisted it. It was taking all my will power not to take her in my arms and do a little exploring of my own. But I'd told her she could lead the way and I wasn't about to go back on my word. Especially when it was causing me such sweet torture.

There was a break in the activity. Even though my head was flat on the mattress and I wasn't actually looking at where she was, I knew that she'd gotten to the... er..., heart of the matter. Her warm breath made me break out in chills and although I didn't expect my little explorer to head any farther into uncharted territory, I was pleased she'd made it that far.

Then something warm and wet and oh -so -soft touched the tip of my cock. My head shot up and I watched amazed as Amy gently licked my helmet with her small pink tongue.

"Oh Jesus," I whispered. "Don't stop."

She did though. But only to replace her mouth with fingers that lightly traced up and down the sides of my rod, making me gasp. Then carefully, she gripped me firmly and slid her hand up and down on my shaft. And suddenly I forgot that Amy had never done any of this before. Hell, it sure didn't seem to matter to my body.

"Ungh!" I've always been eloquent in bed.

"What?" Amy stopped. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Peanut," I gasped, "you have got learn how to read me better. Like, when I moan and my eyes roll back in my head, that means I'm having a good time."

She giggled. "Okay, I think I got it now. Unless you scream and jump off the bed I should just keep on going?"

"Even then," I corrected her. "Especially then."

But Amy wasn't listening. She was back to blowing warm puffs of air on Little Charlie (I have got to come up with a new nickname for that much-maligned appendage to my body).

At any rate, I wasn't going to think about that now. I wasn't going to be thinking about much if Amy kept on the way she was. And she did keep on. First she went back to stroking me, making my hips wriggle and my chest heave. Then she traced the same path as her hands with her tongue.

This was good and bad. Good because, well do I really have to go into that? And bad, because I was beginning to run out of will power and it was becoming increasing clear that unless Amy was trying for the '"pearl necklace"' effect that she'd undoubtedly read about in her quest for knowledge, we were going to have to take a break. I was just about to tell her this when she slid about half of my cock into that wet little furnace she called a mouth. And then she kept on going.

At that point I lost the power of speech. That can happen when your brain melts. Amy seemed to take this as a good sign, though, and proceeded to suck and lick my cock like it was the best thing she'd ever tasted. Honestly, her enthusiasm was extraordinary and I was beginning to think I needed to make a big donation to whatever Net sites she'd been reading that had encouraged this kind of behavior.

But like I'd mentioned before, time was quickly running out. And as I'd never been able to shake my gentlemanly upbringing no matter how much I regretted it; I made a last ditch effort at remembering how to talk so I could warn her. 

"Peanut, sweetheart," I was babbling, but you tell me you could do any better. "You, you have to stop. I'm a, I'm going to... Oh shit, baby..."

Just in case Amy was too naïve to understand, a fact that was entirely possible, I reached down and tried to gently pry her face and its brilliantly talented mouth away from my crotch. Amy, however, didn't seem to want to let go. She shook her head slowly, which didn't make matters any easier as that just made the sensations even better. 

I fell back, trying desperately to think of my Great Aunt Dort and that six-foot hair that grew out of her chin, but even that wasn't helping. Then Amy finished me off, literally. In a move that would have made a porn star cry with envy, she twirled her tongue around my corona and sucked. Hard.

"Awwwww shiiiiittttt!!!!" I managed to get out just before the first blast pumped into her greedy little mouth.

I have to give her credit. She was a real trouper. She never batted an eyelash. At least I don't think so; I was really in no condition to notice. What I do know is that when it was over and I managed to focus my eyes again, she was sitting there looking exactly like the cat who'd eaten the canary. Or eaten something anyway. 

She smiled at me shyly. If you'd just walked in you'd never know a minute before she'd been doing a great impression of as sex starved vacuum cleaner. And then it dawned on me, you really wouldn't know, which could only mean...

"You swallowed!" I whispered hoarsely. 

Okay, so that may not sound like that big a deal, but let's face it, except in the stories I keep referring to, swallowing is not all that common. At least not with the women I know. And even those I've known who have taken the stance that all protein is good for you, had a tendency to look like they just got a dose of castor oil after they've done the deed. Not Amy, she even looked happy about her snack.

"Of course," she said calmly. And then confirming my suspicions, she licked her lips. "I didn't think it was bad tasting at all."

"But you swallowed!" My brain was getting a little more oxygen then it had been a few minutes ago, but it was still busy sorting out it's wounded and the dead that had so nobly given their lives for my orgasm, and it wasn't processing up to speed yet.

"Charlie, what else was I supposed to do?" She looked at me with those big beautiful eyes and I realized this was not a rhetorical question.

"I don't know," I searched my data banks for past experiences. "Back off, spit it out."

Those sweet eyes of hers clouded.

"But don't think I didn't love it," I said hastily backtracking. "It was wonderful, it's just that most women don't really like to do that so it was kind of a surprise." She still looked unhappy so I pulled her up to me and sighed as she snuggled into my arms. I leaned down and kissed her deeply to prove that I wasn't disgusted. "But a pleasant surprise." 

"I'm glad," she murmured from the vicinity of my armpit. "I just figured that would be least messy way to handle things."

For the first time, I began to be thankful that Amy was a neat freak. "You know," I began lazily. "Woody Allen said that sex wasn't messy unless you did it right."

"Maybe so," she agreed reluctantly. "But I'll bet he doesn't do his own laundry."

She had a point. Besides I wasn't about to discourage her from continuing her new and delightful habit. Not, I realized with a pang, that I was probably going to be on the receiving end of it for much longer.

That thought depressed me, but then again, I thought, I was here now, at least for tonight. Maybe I couldn't convince Amy that I was the man for her, but I was damn sure going to try. And even if I didn't succeed, I was pretty sure I could make this an experience she'd never forget.

Amy apparently was thinking along the same lines herself. Well similar, but not exactly the same.

"Are you sleepy now?" She asked in her sweet and now, not -so- innocent voice.

"What?" If that was all she was ready to do I was going to be a very disappointed guy.

"Well, you did, er, come and I know that in those stories they say guys can do it again in like five minutes, but the textbooks don't agree and they even say a lot of guys only can climax once."

"They were wrong."

"I don't know, they were right about..." She stopped and bit her lip.

"Size," I finished for her, then I propped myself up on one elbow and looked at her. "Amy do you really believe for one moment, that I'd have let you do that if I'd believed I wouldn't be able to return the favor and make love to you?"

"Sex," she stated flatly. "Have sex, not make love."

"Okay, whatever," I was little annoyed that she'd felt the need to make the distinction.

"I mean," she continued relentlessly. "I wouldn't want you to worry that I didn't know the difference."

"I got it," I shot back.

"Good."

This was not going the way I'd planned. "Look, let's get back on track here." I kissed her nose and watched her wary little face relax. "I'll admit that I may need a little more um, down time then five minutes." 

Amy smiled at the bad joke and relaxed further into my arms. I decided to push my luck. For some reason, most women don't seem to enjoy a good pun as much as a guy does. 

"But give me twenty minutes and things should be looking up," I wiggled my eyebrows.

"Oh God, Charlie," Amy groaned. "That was awful."

See what I mean? Women just don't appreciate true wit.

"So," she continued, "do you want to take a little nap or something?"

"What do I look like? An eighty year old man?" I protested. "Peanut, I may be temporarily disabled, but I'm not dead. I'm pretty sure I can think of something to occupy us while we wait for my resurrection."

Amy started to giggle, but I stopped her by applying my lips to hers. This time the kiss was long and passionate and when I was done, she wasn't even smiling. In fact, I was pleased to note she looked dazed, her lips red and swollen her eyes dreamy.

"Oh wow." Now it was her turn to use that verb and it thrilled me to hear it. 

Another thing that made me happy was the fact that my cock had taken notice of the start of Round Two and it was beginning to look like my twenty -minute boast was actually going to come true.

"So tell me," I whispered. "In those stories you read, what comes next?"

"Huh?" Amy seemed to be having a hard time focusing on my words. "Oh, uh, you know."

She was right, I did. I figured I knew my way around the Internet as well as any red-blooded American guy my age. More if you remember my cache of porn at work. But I wanted to hear her say it. Hell, who am I kidding here? I wanted her to scream it out - beg me. I should have known by now that Amy never did what I wanted her to do.

"Um, Charlie?" She skootched her way out from underneath me and took a deep breath. "Can we maybe just skip that part?" 

"You're kidding, right?" I sat up and looked at her in shock. 

For those of you who have never read your standard porn story, and I'm sure there are some of you out there, though I don't know anyone like that personally, there is a basic format to the genre: 

First, there is the seduction. This usually takes about 5 sentences. You're so hot, let's fuck! Then the two (or more) protagonists head to the bedroom or fall on the floor or slam each other up against a wall. Take me now, you hot stud you! And they try and suck out each other's tonsils for a while. Her slippery love muscle tickled my uvula. After that they magically strip. Her clothes seemed to melt from her body. Then, without breaking their lip lock, the female side of the partnership then slides down to suck the male's cock. She slid my turgid member into her fiery furnace of a mouth. Once that deed is done. Oh baby, yes! Suck that dick! And the poor woman's face is dripping with a gallon or so's worth of semen, it is time to move on to stage three. 

Now for my money this is where it's always gotten interesting. Because now the guy gets to get into the act and do a little tasting of his own. But here was Amy telling me she wanted to skip my favorite part. Okay, one of my favorite parts. The little spoilsport was looking at me now and I could tell the next words out of her mouth were not going to be good news. 

"Would you mind very much, cause..." She searched for the words. "I don't know, that always just sort of struck me as weird."

Weird? - This from the girl who has two copies of Manos, the Hands of Fate, and swallows cum because it's neater? 

"But Peanut," I protested using what I thought was faultless logic, "you did it to me, and this time your part is just to lie back and enjoy it."

She shook her head and for the first time since we'd started this little adventure, and blushed. "I'd feel too self-conscious."

Ah, now I got it. There is a reason most of us don't have a mirror attached to our ceilings. 




Amy's Smile Ch. 05



"Amy," I kissed her nose. "Trust me on this. By the time we get to it, you aren't going to be self-conscious." If I had my way she'd barely be conscious of anything, except the pleasure I was giving her.

"I..." 

I stopped the discussion with another go at her luscious lips. I was fast learning that arguing with Amy was not the way to get what I wanted from her. As we kissed, I made up a battle plan full of surprise raids and sneaky maneuvers that I was pretty sure would get me the territory I was planning on claiming as my own. I felt her relax under me and I decided the time for talk had finished and started my plan of attack. 

I began by tracing the delicate cords of her neck with my tongue. That seemed to work judging by the goose bumps I left in my wake, so next I focused on the little notch at the base of her neck. Hmmm, still good.

My hands now went into action as I slid them up the sides of her rib cage until my thumbs could softly stroke her round little nipples. Amy arched her back and I knew my insidious plan was working. 

I repeated all these distractions until I could feel the movement of her hips as she slid them up in and down in a way that let me know that they wanted to be next in line for some attention. I wasn't going to be that eager, though. First I moved my face down until my mouth was level with the taut rosy skin that crested her perfect little breasts. I picked one at random and licked it.

"Oh Charlie!" Amy whispered, and proceeded to shove as much of her tasty little breast in my mouth as possible.

I looked up and grinned at her and then went back to work. 

To say that Amy was responsive is like saying that DaVinci could draw. She whimpered and moaned and basically couldn't stay still and I hadn't even gotten to the good stuff yet. 

I moved to her other breast and this time I didn't mess with the preliminaries. I latched on and sucked. Amy levitated from the bed in a very gratifying imitation of Sigourney Weaver in Ghost Busters. I used the time it took her to recapture her mind by sliding my hand down between us until I reached the gates of heaven. I knew I'd hit nirvana when she again moved about two feet up off the bed.

But this makes it sound like I was cool and detached during this whole episode. Actually, I was anything but. My own Bonnie Prince Charlie, (Yeah I know, new name, what do you think?) had finished his rest and was taking great interest in the proceedings and it was all I could do to convince him that now wasn't the time to do a little attack of his own. In fact he was so thrilled that the games had begun again that I had to keep my hips carefully elevated so that he didn't mistake the friction of the bed sheets as a sign that the missiles should fire.

That gave me an idea, however, so I sat back on heels and surveyed my battleground. Amy was flushed and shiny from my mouth and her sweat and the quiver of her belly was as mesmerizing as any metronome in a hypnotist's parlor. I gave into temptation briefly and knelt to trace a path around and in her navel with my tongue. This got a groan out of her, but when I continued my journey farther downward she tensed. 

Okay, so this was going to be tougher than I thought. I lifted my head and smiled at her. She was looking down at me, still breathless, but now worried -looking. 

"Just relax, Peanut," I encouraged her. "I won't do a thing you don't want me to." Yeah, a lie, but I was counting on the fact that by the time I was ready to take the plunge, it wouldn't be.

I returned to the scene of my last success. Her navel was an innie; my favorite kind, and now I stuck my tongue in there in an effort to show her that all her openings held great interest for me. Amy giggled a little then gasped as I slid my hand down to pet the soft curly locks that guarded the treasure between her legs.

I have to say I'd been pleasantly surprised by her neat little bush. I'd been sort of expecting more of it if the truth were known. I guess that was because I was remembering the wolfman eyebrow and I'd assumed that hairy on the face probably meant hairy everywhere else, if you get my drift. And that was not a look I was particularly fond of. 

But Amy was as naturally perfect as my best fantasies could conjure up. Glossy dark curls formed a perfect triangle and when I touched them they were as soft as the hair on her head, which was very soft indeed. And although my hand hadn't yet explored too far into the mysterious slit between her legs, I'd done enough of a reconnaissance to realize that the curls basically stopped at the point where her now swollen nether lips began. Another point in her favor since flossing was something I preferred to do with waxed string.

I ran my fingers through her thatch again, this time I let the curls wrap around my fingers and I tugged slightly. It was like saying open sesame, because Amy finally spread her legs and gave me access to heaven's gate. I am not one to let an opportunity like that go unnoticed so I slipped my hand down further and laid claim to the spoils of my victory. 

"Oh..." She whispered, and I looked at her wide-open eyes and grinned.

I stroked deep into the velvet wetness and found her little love button. Amy squeaked and closed her eyes. I thought that was a pretty good idea myself and copied her. Then I followed the curve of her belly with my mouth until my sense of smell told me I was nearing my destiny. 

I glanced up once to see what reaction my journey was having on this woman/child who'd somehow managed to captivate me. I was glad I did; she was a sight to behold. Her neck was arched and her eyes were closed. She breathed deeply through her nose, but her perfect pink lips were slightly opened and as I watched, her hot little tongue made an appearance and licked wetly at them. 

That was all the encouragement I needed. With a groan, I lowered my head until I was inches away from her treasure. Then with a deep breath that made me giddy, I plunged in.

"Ungh!" Amy bounced on the bed as I took my first taste of her nectar.

"Oh Charlie," she gasped, as my tongue licked up her slit and found the little nub that was the center of all her pleasure.

She did not pull away. Instead she brought her knees up and spread her legs in a way that only told me that I was doing something right. I decided to go on to my next phase. I wrapped my lips around her swelling clit and when I'd completely encompassed it, I sucked lightly. 

Another big reaction, though this time not quite as pleasant.

"Amy... Honey..." the words were muffled and barely recognizable as I struggled to raise my head and break the grip she had on my head. "Peanut, let go of the ears." I finally gasped. "They're kind of attached to my head and I'd like them to stay that way."

It was a sign of her arousal that this time Amy didn't even think about apologizing. But she did stop trying to steer by using my ears as the controls. Instead she grabbed my hair and pulled hard. I thought about protesting again, but hell, it didn't hurt that bad and I figured baldness was a small price to pay for seeing that expression of acute lust on my little girl's face.

"Oh God, Charlie!" She gasped. "This is just sooooo amazing!"

I couldn't have said it better myself. And so we went on to Phase Three. My hand, which had been stroking her thigh, now moved down to join my face in that tight space. I slid a finger around her slit to get it nice and juicy and also to see if the additional stimulation could make Amy squirm even more than she already was. It did and on one of her upward thrusts, I used the momentum to insert my digit into her tunnel. 

"Yes!" was Amy's only editorializing on that maneuver.

I could have added a few comments of my own if my mouth had not been otherwise been occupied. She was hot and wet and tight. Very tight and there was something else, but my brain wasn't processingwhat it was because for one thing I didn't have any prior knowledge of such phenomena and for another, it's hard to think when you aren't getting much air and the little you are is being stolen by a very greedy cock. 

At any rate there wasn't any time left to think about things. Amy was rapidly reaching the point of no return, a detail that was brought home to me by the almost frantic dance her hips were performing.

In fact it was only another minute or so before Amy gave me another update on how she was feeling. "Charlie, uh Charlie... Oh God, what's...? I mean I..."

Her articulate comments told me exactly what was happening so it came as no surprise when about ten seconds later she wrapped her legs around my neck and humped hard into my face burying it deeply into her warm, wet and now pulsing pussy. Her warning had given me time to take a deep breath in preparation, so I was in no danger of immediate asphyxiation, but still, I was getting a little concerned by the time she finally collapsed and let her legs rest loosely on my shoulders. I dragged my head tiredly out of that dark slit only to make it as far as her pelvis where I collapsed on the soft pillow of her belly.

We lay like that for some time recovering our strength. Finally I felt the muscles under me stir and shift. Then I heard Amy giggle.

"You look exhausted," she murmured, but she didn't sound too sorry about it.

"Yeah well," I was still sucking in breaths to make up for the time I'd gone without. "Oxygen deprivation will do that to you."

"Oh poor baby," she crooned and my heart swelled in gratification. Then she spoiled it with her next words. "But it's your own darn fault. You tricked me."

I pushed myself up until I was eye level to her. "And are you unhappy about that?"

She had the grace to blush; I'll give her that. 

"No," she said, suddenly shy again. Then in one of her lightening-fast changes of mood, she giggled. "I'm glad you're such a devious man."

"Good," I said smugly. "I'm always interested in broadening people's horizons."

"Oh right," my budding little sex fiend agreed, and then ruined the whole effect by rolling her eyes.

"Sheesh!" I moaned theatrically. "Whatever happened to that sweet, shy girl I used to know? I think I've created a monster."

"She's still around," Amy replied calmly.

"Not around me she's not," I shot back.

As I said it, I realized it was true. Amy wasn't shy around me anymore. And it wasn't just something that had happened since we'd landed in bed. For a while now, she'd been getting bolder, more comfortable around me - sometimes even bossy. The weirdest part was that I really loved it, or maybe it was just because I really...

"Are you sorry about that?" Amy's question interrupted my chain of thought and since it was heading in a direction I definitely did not want to go I eagerly turned back to her.

"Nope, not in the slightest," I grinned at her and took her into my arms where she cuddled in like she belonged there.

We lay like that quietly for a few minutes, then Amy sighed and lifted her head. "You know," she whispered. "It's been at least twenty minutes."

Time does fly when you're having fun.



Amy's Smile Ch. 06



She focused on me again and I showed her the washcloth. Then I grinned when she started to blush furiously. I pushed the covers back and almost got to her waist before she made a grab for them.

"Don't," she whispered. "I can do it myself."

"Peanut," I grinned, "it's not like you have any secrets from me."

She colored even more and murmured so low I could barely hear her, "I bet you'd be surprised."

This, I realized, was one of those toilet seat up or down kind of things. You know, the real deal about what separates the sexes. Amy and I had just gotten done doing the wild thing. My reaction was to wander around her house buck-naked pretending I was king of this castle, while hers was to hide under the covers and make believe her born again modesty made any sense whatsoever. But she didn't resist me when I took hold of the quilt once more, and as my hand slid between her legs with the warm cloth she sighed appreciatively and gave in to the feeling. Gently I wiped her down and then flipped the cloth onto the edge of the wastebasket and crawled back under the covers. 

Now it was my turn to shiver, naked might be fun, but it wasn't very warm and there was an ice storm still howling outside and rattling the windows. Amy pulled me towards her and soon had me toasty again. If my balls had had one drop of anything left in them I might have gotten some ideas, but after that last blast, I could tell it was going to take a lot longer than twenty minutes for me to be up to performance speed. 

"I know you didn't mean it," Amy said softly.

"What's that Peanut?" I was suddenly so tired I could barely form the words. In fact, that nap Amy had suggested earlier sounded like a damn fine idea. I was just closing my eyes when her next words went through me like bolt of lightening.

"When you said you loved me."

When I said what?!

"I, I..."

"Well really it was more of a shout." Amy rose up on one elbow and looked me calmly in the face. "You don't remember it, do you? When you were, uh, coming, you yelled, I love you."

Shit. She was right of course. I didn't remember saying it. Oh, I remembered thinking it all right - over and over again - but I couldn't believe I'd actually lost my mind enough to actually have said, no yelled, the words out loud.

My first reaction, besides having my balls retract up into my stomach, was to lie. The problem was I couldn't think of one damn story that would even begin to explain away what I said and still keep us friends. Of course the truth was even worse. 

Or was it? Why the hell shouldn't I tell Amy the truth? I had just as much right to be in love with her as anyone. More. I had, after all, gone shopping with her on a Saturday, to a mall, that had to count for something. So what if there was the possibility that she'd order me out of her bed, dig out a pair of Daddy's ice skates and send me on my merry way. It was going to happen sometime soon anyway. At least this way I'd know - for once at least - I'd been honest with the girl. 

And I knew one other thing. After tonight, there was no way I was going to let her skip happily out of my arms and into Liam's, not without a fight anyway. So why not start swinging now while the element of surprise was still on my side.

I opened my mouth before I could chicken out, "Amy, I..."

"I know," she cut in as she smiled sweetly at me, "it was only sex. You just got carried away. I've heard it happens all the time. Honestly Charlie, I'm not an idiot. Heck, I wouldn't even want someone to really tell me they loved me under those circumstances. How could I ever believe them?"

Aw Jesus!

"But..."

"No," she put her hand to my mouth. "Let's not even discuss it. It's forgotten."

Well it was until she brought it up. Christ, talk about ruining a moment. Amy however seemed fine now. She settled back into my arms and sighed and as I watched, her eyes closed and her breathing slowed and regulated. Of course I was wide-awake. 

How had I come to this? God, only six months ago I'd been this happy slob, satisfied with my life and the occasional Friday night blowjob from a big-boobed woman. Now I was head over heels in love with a flat-chested waif who used me as a practice dummy until the real man of her dreams wised up or broke her heart by finally marrying the boss's daughter. And the worst part of it was, I was encouraging her.

Amy sighed and snuggled closer. I wished I could have told her how much I'd meant it when I'd said those three little words, but she was right, an admission like that wasn't supposed to happen in the throes of orgasm. She'd never believe me if I'd told her it was the truth. There had to be a way though. Some way I could make her realize that I really did love her. Then all I'd have to do was convince her she felt the same way.

Well it could happen.



Amy's Smile Ch. 07



"Christ, Amy, you do that again and I'm not ever getting out of this bed." 

She giggled and totally ignored me, a fact for which I thanked every god I could think of. I'd wondered last night how this morning was going to play. I'd half expected, dreaded might be a more accurate term, that my little kitten was going to be back to her shy, old self once the light of day put a new spin on the evenings activities. Happily that wasn't the case.

I'd woken to an empty bed and a stomach that told me it was way past breakfast. A look at the clock confirmed it was almost noon. I hadn't slept this late since... Well okay, since last weekend, but still this wasn't my house and usually I'm not one to linger after the night's festivities. 

I had an excuse - several in fact. Seemed that Amy wasn't one of those girls who needed a lot of sleep, at least that's how it felt to me after spending the night with her. Every couple of hours she'd woken me up with her wet little mouth and hot little fingers demanding lessons I was only too happy to teach. Hell let's face, all she had to do was ask and I'd become her permanent personal tutor. 

But lessons are hard work for both student and teacher and eventually this new and apparently insatiable Amy curled up in a snug ball, her head resting lightly on my chest. I fell asleep stroking her hair and listening to her soft breath deepen. Swear to god, I heard her purr. 

I thought I could just stare at her all night, but at some point, my brain called it quits and shut down. One minute I was plotting out strategy on how to get Liam to seriously think about moving to Afghanistan and the next I was squinting in an effort to keep the morning sun from blinding me. 

I rolled over and tried to find where Amy was hiding under the quilt. Yeah, stupid, but somehow in my groggy brain I seemed to have shrunk her already diminutive form down to Tinkerbell size. I couldn't find her so I stuck my head underneath the sheet and started to do that windmill thing you do with your arms when you're looking for that one sock you know is stuck in the bed somewhere from the night before when you came home drunk and couldn't be bothered taking off both of the pair before you crawled under the covers and passed out. 

"Charlie, what are you doing?" Amy's voice came from the direction of the doorway.

I was halfway under the covers - the wrong way - with my ass waving it's naked self proudly in the cold morning air, so I suppose it was a pretty reasonable question from her point of view. Probably even more so after I said the first thing that popped into my mouth.

"Um, looking for you."

I backed out from under the covers and slid back in feet first all the while looking at Amy halfway across the room, wrapped in a pretty, pink bathrobe holding a tray with two mugs, a thermos of coffee and a plate of something that looked liked a homemade bundt cake. 

She regarded me seriously. "You aren't really a morning person are you?" 

She had me there.

I grinned at her and shook my head too busy getting my first glimpse of Amy in the morning to care how nuts I looked. Oh god, I'd been kind of hoping I'd been just reacting to the events of the night when I'd made my little discovery. Now I knew for sure. I was totally, hopelessly in love with Amy. And the emphasis, I'm afraid, was on the hopeless part.

"What?" She smiled shyly back at me and my heart lurched painfully in my breast. 

"I was just thinking," I finally managed to speak, "there should be a rule that people shouldn't look as good as you do in the morning. It's too much of shock to the system when you're trying to get your heart started."

Amy rolled her eyes, "You really are full of it, aren't you, Charlie?"

"Hey!" I protested. "I'm being totally honest here." 

For once, I was actually telling the truth. Amy's pink robe would have made most of the women I'd dated look like a fat Pepto Bismol bottle, but on her it looked unbelievably sweet and feminine. She'd obviously taken a shower and her hair was damp, the curls clinging to the matching pink headband she must have put on to keep her hair off her face. She was barefoot, but even her toes matched the robe with their glossy nail polish. 

I wanted to jump her.

Instead, she jumped me. Not right away, first she set the tray down on the floor, but once that was done, she somehow levitated across the three feet that separated us and lightly landed, straddling my pelvis.

"Ommmph!" Okay, maybe not so lightly.

"Oh geez, Charlie, are you okay?"

"I will be," I gasped, "once my balls get out of my chest."

Amy slid off me. "Let me look."

That sounded like an excellent idea. I spread my legs and shoved the covers down to my knees. Amy obediently bent her head and took a gander at the, er, root of my problem.

"Looks okay to me."

Of course it did, there was nothing wrong with me. I'd only been kidding. A more experienced woman would have known that from the beginning. But now that she was down there I thought I may as well at least pretend I had some motive for wanting her to examine my cock other than the obvious. 

"I don't know," I tried to sound pitiful, "maybe if you kissed it and made it better."

She actually snorted. This girl was catching on fast. Still, she leaned over a little farther and the next thing I felt was her wet little tongue giving my dick first aid like you couldn't get from the Red Cross. From there things followed the normal course of what happens when your encased in something hot and soft. Next thing I knew Amy was doing her vacuum cleaner impression.

Now we'd covered this ground the night before. In fact we'd reinforced her technique on several occasions. I thought we might even have been justified in saying we'd reached perfection. I was wrong.

"Christ! What are you doing?" 

This was actually a rhetorical question since I knew what she was up to, I just couldn't believe fastidious Amy was willing to go where no man had gone before. Or ever would for that matter.

Of course Amy doesn't recognize rhetorical very well so there was a wet pop as her luscious mouth left my cock. "Looking for your prostrate."

I groaned, "Sweetie, you found it."

She grinned evilly at me and pressed on my ticket to Disneyland again. Then she had the nerve to giggle when my dick drooled in joy. 

She didn't say anything else, just went back to licking my lollipop. Of course with the double assault, I wasn't able to speak at all. Instead I moaned and groaned and did my best dying fish imitation as I flopped all over the bed. Fortunately, quick study Amy no longer thought this kind of action on my part was a sign that she was doing something wrong. Instead, she took it as the encouragement it was meant to be and just kept at her heart stopping manipulations until the desired effect was achieved. 

We lay there quietly for a bit, Amy's head resting lightly on my hip. I hazily thought about how I was going to thank her for the nooner, but I couldn't seem to get my body to go along with the plan quite yet. By my count this was my fifth orgasm in twelve hours, a new record if my half dead brain wasn't counting those three months when I was twelve and discovered for the first time how much fun sex with one person (the one being me) could actually be. 

I distinctly remember my mother being amazed when a giant-sized bottle of Oil of Olay disappeared in less than a week. She went on and on about it at the dinner table one night until I thought I'd die from embarrassment. My dad looked like he was going to explode himself and later I heard him and mom laughing hysterically in the kitchen. Nothing was said to me, but the next day there was a new bottle of Jergen's all for me, (they were sympathetic, but no way were they going to pop for the expensive shit) sitting on my nightstand. Ah, the good old days.

Abruptly, I was brought back from my walk down memory lane by the feel of tiny hands. I forced my head to raise and I looked tiredly down at my crotch. There was Amy poking and prodding like she thought I was hiding the lost Dutchman Mine behind my balls.

"Um, what are you looking for?" 

"Nothing," she didn't look up, "just looking." 

"See anything you like?"

She laughed, "I never really got a look at one before, you know? And I didn't think you'd mind."

"No, not at all. Carry on, just forget I'm in the room." I struggled up to rest my weight on my shoulders and now we both were looking at my sleeping prince.

Amy looked up and smiled. "It's kind of silly looking isn't it?" She spoke slowly and turned her head sideways like she was studying modern art.

I looked at the dark patch of hair with the little sausage flopped upside down in the middle and the loose sack below. Okay, she had a point, but that didn't mean I was going to let her know I agreed with her.

"Actually, it's fairly normal," I responded a tad defensively. "And about half the world has one."

"Oh sure," she grinned again, "but I've only got this one to look at."

This was true. So being the gracious guy that I am, I laid back down and let her get on with her fun. There wasn't a prayer in hell that she was going to get me going again, but I don't think that was her goal anyway. She seemed perfectly content to look and touch and... 

"Sweetheart, Peanut, what the hell are you doing?" I sat up as best I could with a ninety-pound girl straddling my knees and crouched over my dick. "You know, you really can't see down that..."

"Charlie, how'd you get the scar?"

I froze. "What scar?" 

"This one." Amy pointed to a place on the base of my scrotum as if I had more than one scar to choose from.

"Oh that. It's nothing." I tried to move away from her, but she wasn't having any of it.

"I don't know," she traced the slightly raised welt with her finger. "Looks like it might have been a pretty big deal at the time.

I ran my fingers through my hair. "Uh, it happened a long time ago, I barely remember."

"Uh huh. Go on."

My mind tried to come up with something, anything that would sound better than the truth. Then I looked at those big brown eyes, so warm and trusting. 

Shit.

"Recess," I muttered.

"What?"

"You heard me, I got my dick poked by a sharp stick. We were playing Star Wars. It was a hot day and I was wearing shorts. Kindergarten, first day. I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, Charlie," her eyes were sympathetic for a whole two seconds. Then she lowered her head and laughed.

"And I thought you weren't just another heartless woman," I said as I pulled her shaking frame up until I could kiss her nose. "Brother, am I ever disillusioned." 

Amy looked at me with those big beautiful brown eyes. Whatever she saw in my face made her smile, just a little, then she tucked her head under my chin and sighed contentedly. I did a little sighing myself as I wrapped my arms around her and stroked the soft pink material that covered her back. 

I closed my eyes and thought about all the different ways I'd seen Amy look. It surprised me to realize that whether it was the nerd girl I'd originally met, or the pretty woman I'd bedded, I was always going to think of her now as beautiful. Damn, my mother had actually been right for once. What was inside a person was the most important thing. 

This whole falling in love deal was a new experience for me. I realized that now, this was nothing like my masochist crush on Johanna or the puppy love I'd felt in college. In some ways it wasn't even as exciting as those had been. I didn't have the heart pounding, sweaty palms, Oh my God I'm so happy I'm nauseous feeling at all. 

Instead it was it was more like I suddenly knew the answer to all the secrets of the universe were right there in front of me and just waiting for me to discover them in the depths of Amy's eyes. I knew it might take a while to unlock them, but, hey, I had time. 

Like maybe the rest of my life. 

Oh shit. Where had that come from? I was having a hard enough time dealing with the fact I'd somehow managed to fall in love, now suddenly I was skipping the next forty-seven steps and thinking about marriage? And the worst part was, even as the thought occurred to me, my heart was telling me what a great idea it was. That didn't seem normal. Not for me at any rate. 

I'd always thought that I wasn't the marrying kind. Partially this was because no woman had ever seen me that way, but also it had to do with my basic inability to figure out what the hell was so great about the whole ball and chain concept. I'd never known why a guy would ever honestly want to spend the rest of his life with just one woman. 

In my mind, I guess, I always thought the real reason for marriage - besides the obvious biological imperative of procreation and carrying on one's own gene pool - was convenience and the promise of available sex. I knew this made me seem shallow, but as my friends fell like dominoes, I looked around and found an always expanding group of eager women and figured I could live with that.

Now Amy'd snuck into my life and with a couple of smiles convinced me I'd been completely wrong about the whole damn thing. All the Rachel's and Kendra's of the world didn't mean squat against the promise of being with her. God, I even could understand how John could move to Gary if he felt half as strongly about 'Nature Girl' Michelle, as I felt about Amy.

I'd been unconsciously tracing the pointy tip of her ear as I was thinking all this. Amy ducked suddenly and pulled her head up to look at me. 

"That tickles."

"I'm sorry," I lied. 

"No you're not," and swatted my hand away as I tried to reach her ear again.

I sat up and grabbed her shoulders flipping her over and under me. "No," I kissed her, "I'm not." And kissed her again.

That was a position I'd have liked to have stayed in for the next eight or nine hours, but my bladder had other ideas. Reluctantly I finally rolled off her and excused myself and went to the bathroom. 

Efficient Amy had set out a new toothbrush, disposable razor and even some kind of shaving cream which was no doubt her father's cause it looked like it was probably popular in the 1960's. But it worked and after the obligatory morning piss, I scraped off the night's growth and brushed my teeth. 

I thought about taking a shower, but I didn't want to rush things. I was, after all, in no hurry to leave and I didn't want to remind Amy either that I had my own home and didn't have to camp out at hers.

I knew I could get home too, if not now then in a couple of hours. The bathroom had a window and I could hear the steady drip, drip of melting ice. That's the problem with Chicago ice storms, just when you're getting to enjoy them,; they go away.

But even if it was getting warmer outside that didn't mean it was time to break out the fans. It was cold and so was I by the time I made it back to Amy's bedroom. I dived under the covers and she screeched as she made a grab for the two mugs.

"Sorry," I shivered, and Amy took pity on me and handed me a coffee she'd poured from the thermos.

"Next time you get up, wait and I'll get you something to wear," she offered.

I raised an eyebrow, reached over and touched her robe. "Pink is not my color." 

Amy giggled, "I'll bet you'd look cute," she teased, "but really I was thinking of the sweat pants again.

I groaned.

"No," she protested, "they weren't that bad. In fact without a shirt I'll bet you'd sort of look like Yul Brenner in 'The King and I'." She grinned. "With more hair." Amy took one small hand and touched the patch of hair on my chest. "A lot more hair."

I took her hand in mine and slowly moved it down my treasure trail. "Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera." And it was my turn to grin as her cheeks darkened to the same color as her robe.

"Are you staying for breakfast or do you need to go home right away?"

Huh? The last few minutes had seemed to me to be heading somewhere and it hadn't been in the direction of my house. I looked at Amy and wondered if this was just her being her usual non-pushy self, or if she really was trying to get rid of me.

I pushed myself over to my side and looked at her. "Um, I don't really have any plans..."

Amy smiled happily and I started to breathe again. However she felt about me, it didn't extend to wanting me out of her house in the next ten minutes.

"Okay, why don't you go take a shower and I'll start breakfast. Waffles?"

"I have a better idea," I pulled her up and kissed her on the nose. "Why don't we shower together and then go out for breakfast? I'll buy."

Amy shook her head and got that stubborn look in her eyes I'd just recently begun to notice. "I've already had my shower and..." She dropped her eyes and bit her bottom lip.

I raised her chin up with my finger, "What's wrong?"

"Look, about what's happened," she flushed a little again and I started to feel this sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, "I want to thank you, really."

"But?" I forced myself to say.

"No, really, it's just that I don't want you to think you have to keep doing things with me. I know you only did that as a favor and I wouldn't want you to think I expected any more. Especially..." She ducked her head again. "Especially sex."

"You don't hear me complaining, do you?"

Amy smiled and shook her head. "I just want to make sure that you understand that I realize this was a one-shot thing. You obviously don't have feelings for me and I, well I..." She trailed off before she said Liam's name, but it didn't matter, I knew what she was going to say. 

We stared at each other for a long time. God I hated this. I wanted so much to tell her that favor's be damned. That I wasn't that nice a guy and I'd wanted to make love with Amy. And now, now that I figured out just how wonderful it could be, I was willing - eager - to continue doing it for the rest of my life. I was just about to tell that when I noticed that her eyes were filling up with tears. 

Shit. 

"Hey Peanut," I said huskily cause I wasn't too sure I wasn't about to start crying myself, "I understand, I really do." I kissed her again on the nose. "Now didn't you say something about waffles?"

That broke the moment. Amy crawled out of bed and started towards the door. Then I remembered something I'd come up with to move along nefarious plan to keep her away from Liam and thinking of me, because I wasn't ready to give up - not even now.

"Oh, I forgot about this, but I was planning on going to a retrospective today over at the Rialto. They're doing a whole John Ford, John Wayne festival thing."

Amy stopped in the doorway, but didn't turn around. "So," she said calmly, "you don't want breakfast after all?"

"Hell yes, I want breakfast, I just wondered if you'd like to go with me now that I know you're as big a movie nut as I am. Course if you aren't a fan of the Duke's, I understand."

She turned with a big grin on her face and then did the most absurd John Wayne imitation I'd ever seen. "Why pilgrim, it'd be un-American to not be a fan wouldn't it?"

"Great," I waggled my eyebrows, "now where are those waffles?"

I could hear her laughter the whole way down the hall. I got up and headed back to the bathroom for a shower. To say I was confused would be an understatement. Amy had shut me down about the sex, but then had seemed thrilled with our little date. I didn't get it. But then there were so many things about her that I didn't get that it was starting to become the norm. 

I was getting into the shower when Amy knocked on the door. "Yup," I automatically reached for a towel even though Amy'd been looking at my nakedness for a good twelve hours by now.

She stuck her head in, "Charlie, remember your cell phone?"

I nodded. I remembered. Amy had the same one and she'd had a spare cord so I'd plugged it into an outlet in the kitchen when I'd realized I was going to be stuck staying the night. 




Amy's Smile Ch. 07



"Well you have an awful lot of messages on it. Some guy named Clem. He's been calling all night."

Uh oh, that wasn't good. Clem wouldn't call unless he'd either finally gotten laid or there was something really wrong at work. Knowing Clem, I was betting on the second.

"Here's your phone if you want to call." Amy handed it over and then walked away.

She wasn't kidding. There were eighteen messages. Clem would never have called me like this if it wasn't an emergency and I didn't need a crystal ball to know that my immediate future was going to include a journey in a big silver bird. With a sigh, I dialed the office and then punched in Clem's extension.

"What?" he spit out the word. Yup, something was really wrong.

I took a deep breath and snarled back at him. "This better be life or death or you're dead meat." Hey, I said I knew it was important, that didn't mean I had to be gracious about it.

"Fuck Charlie, where the hell you been?" Clem didn't sound any happier to be talking to me than I was to him. "I've been trying to get you since yesterday."

"You know, you may not have a life," I hissed, "but I do. Or at least I'm trying to. And since when do I have to be available on the weekends?"

"Since the goddamn Medico Base IV decided to mutate into the program from hell. Not like I didn't tell them it was bound to happen," he whined, "but since nobody ever listens to me, it happened anyway. God, sometimes I hate always being right!"

"Yeah, well, we'll discuss your genius another time. Tell me what's wrong and then tell me why the fuck I should give a shit."

For the next ten minutes he did just that. Apparently the problem stemmed from a fairly new billing program we'd been installing in some small hospitals in rural areas. Surprisingly it had been a big hit and all of Clem's dire predictions had never materialized. In fact it was so successful that we'd ended up marketing the product about six months ago to other small hospitals and now had five of them up and running. 

Or at least they had all been running. Clem was now telling me that one of them had been very busy over the last week. Apparently it had decided to commit virtual homicide on its entire patient base. 

"I'm not shitting you. It's reporting everyone the hospital treated in the last two months as deceased! And that's not the worst of it. Remember that little add-on that Jeremiah thought would be so spiffy?"

"Oh fuck!" I knew what he was talking about. Our resident boy genius, Jeremiah Swartz, had tacked a little thing onto Medico that would automatically notify designated funeral homes and newspapers about any deaths.

"Yeah, fuck. Not such a big deal about the undertakers, but you put that shit in papers and the banks pick up on it. In fact that's how it started to come out. Yesterday morning somebody needed some weekend cash and when they went through the ATM they were denied. It was after bank hours, but apparently this guy golfs with the bank president. So he calls up his good buddy who goes and checks. An hour later, the guy is informed that he can't have his money cause he's dead."

"Jesus."

"The bank president gets a little curious, and apparently unlike most "suits", he knows his way around a 'puter. He starts to do a little checking and sees that there's been a big rise in the mortality rate of his little world. A very big rise. Not only his golfing buddy, but his next door neighbor, the principal at his son's high school and the guy who does his lawn."

"Wait a minute," my head was trying to take all this in, "wouldn't they have noticed all the extra obits?"

"You'd think that, but see - and this is where it gets good. It seems the town's paper has this new computer set up and when they get a death notice and put it in, the damn thing automatically forwards the info into a data bank with the three banks in town."

"Shit, remind me not to die in that town."

"No kidding. Anyway, Medico didn't go homicidal until Friday night and the paper got the info on Saturday. Apparently they don't print on the weekend and only keep a skeleton crew in case the world ends or something. So nobody checked the obit desk like they would on a weekday. 

"Jesus!"

"You said that already."

"So do I need to come into the office now?" 

"What you need to do is get your ass on a plane. I'll meet you at O'Hare with all the stuff we could dig up. Once you get there, get over to the hospital and call us. Maybe by then we'll have figured out what the fuck is going on, but I wouldn't bet the farm on that."

We talked for a minute more than hung up. I jumped into the shower and dressed fast. As for my plans with Amy, well, they weren't going to happen today. In fact it looked like any ideas I had to convince her that I was the better man were going to have to wait until I got back. I only hoped that in the meantime, Liam didn't suddenly grow a brain and realize what he was missing.

I came downstairs to the smell of waffles and hot maple syrup. Amy had a plate already made for me.

"Um," I said eloquently.

"I know," she was calm and if she was even a little disappointed it didn't show, "you have to go to work."

"I'm sorry," I mumbled and explained the problem as I shoveled in bits of golden waffles. 

"It can't be helped, I know that. I called you a taxi, I don't think you'd be able to get your car de-iced yet."

"Great," I nodded, "when will it be..." My sentence was cut off by a horn blasting out front.

"Now would be my guess." Amy said dryly and then went and got my coat while I chugged down a half a cup of coffee and some juice.

We walked out to the cab together. Amy was right. The streets had been salted and things were melting fast, but my car still looked like an ice cube. Amy stood there while I gave my address to the cabby, a big burly black guy in his fifties who looked like he'd seen a lot of shit and always come out on top.

I turned to Amy to say goodbye. Things were awkward again. 

"Bye Charlie," she said not meeting my eyes. "I'll see you after you get back, okay?"

"Um yeah, thanks for dinner and a..." I started to thank her for dinner and was trying to think how to do the same about the rest of the night when she suddenly catapulted herself into my arms. I did the first thing that came into my head. I kissed her. 

"Okay peoples, you can finish that later." The cab driver said. "I gotsta make a living ya know?"

Amy pulled back and whispered so the big guy couldn't hear, "Thank you, Charlie, thank you for everything!" Her cheeks were as rosy as her robe and the ribbon she wore in her hair, and I didn't think it was from the cold. "I had a really nice time."

Nice? She had a nice time? 

Jesus if it had gotten any nicer, I don't think I would have survived. I was still mulling that over when she turned and scampered back onto the porch. The cabbie cleared his throat and pointed at the meter, which was merrily counting away. 

Slowly I got into the cab and swiveled my head to catch a final glimpse of Amy as we pulled away from the curb. She didn't go inside either. She stood and watched until we finally turned the corner and disappeared out of view. The cabby must have been taking all of this in through his rear view mirror. When I finally turned back he grinned at me in it.

"Nice girl you got there, son - sorta cute. Like them little pointy ears. Reminds me of a pixie or sumptin."

"She's not mine," I admitted. "My girl, I mean. We're friends."

"Yup, friends." He raised his eyebrows skeptically and snorted. "Charlie, it is Charlie right?" He waited until I nodded. "Anyway, if you and her'd gotten any friendlier back there I was gonna have to find me a bucket of water to break you kids apart."


"Really? You think so?" I sat a little forward.

He snorted again, "What part of the whole scene you not clear on? Where she jumped you or when she opened her mouth and sucked on your tongue like it was the best thing she ever tasted?"

I grinned happily. "She did do that, didn't she?"

James, the name I now read on his license, rolled his eyes. "So what's this 'friends' bullshit?"

I stopped smiling. "The thing is, well, Amy - that's her name - Amy, she's uh, well, see there's another guy."

"Riiight..."

"No really," I protested. "She's been crazy about this asshole for years." 

"Uh huh," James pulled up in front of my house. "That'll be $4.80."

"Sure, but I need you to wait here okay? I'll only be a minute and then I need a ride to O'Hare."

He shrugged, "Your dime."'

My fifty was more like it, but there wasn't a hell of lot I could do about it. I ran into the house and charged upstairs. I didn't see any sign of Liam and that was probably a good thing. I was still itching to plant one right on that movie star jaw of his and I really didn't have time to do the job right.

Five minutes later I was back in James' cab. The minute I sat back in the seat, he started in again about Amy. "So, Charlie, what ya going to do?"

I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about, hoping it would discourage him. No such luck. "Well, I thought once I got to the airport I go check and see if my bosses actually got me a ticket and..."

"Nah, nah, Jesus!" He shook his head disgustedly. "About the pixie. What are you going to do about Amy?"

I sighed. "I have no idea."

"Christ,! Kids!" He shook his head in disgust. "You love her right?"

"Well..."

"Yeah," he sighed and rolled his eyes again. "You love her. Nobody looks as fuckin miserable as a guy in love."

I looked at James again and figured he must work out, a lot. Since it didn't seem like it would be wise to disagree - especially since he was right - I nodded. 

"You wanna do sumptin about it?"

"Uh, yeah, I was thinking about it."

"Don't think, just do it." He half turned ignoring the guy flipping the bird for cutting him off. "Look, you wanna know what I think?"

No, was the short answer. But as I also didn't want my ass dumped out of the cab on the freeway, it didn't seem like that would be the smartest thing to say. 

"Sure."

The rest of the ride was taken up with love tips from James. Any other time I might have thought he was funny, but the further away I got from Amy, the more I realized that I didn't have a chance. I mean, yeah, she obviously didn't have the best taste in the world when it came to men. Not when you figure Liam was her number one goal in life, but that didn't mean that she was stupid enough to think I was any better. The more I got to know her, the more I realized she deserved the best. Not a rating even my mother would bestow on me. 

I zoned out, so caught up in my pity party, I barely paid attention to the pearls James was imparting. I didn't even notice we'd already gotten to the airport until we turned in at the entrance and James was just wrapping up. 

"Yeah okay. So, alls ya gotta do is break the habit."

Since I'd basically blown him off for the last twenty minutes this final pronouncement meant fuck all to me. I tried to pretend he'd just imparted the wisdom of the ages, but he snorted and slapped the back of the seat with his hand.

"You ain't listened to a word I said, didya?"

"Well, I..." 

"Christ, kid, you always a dumbass? I'm giving ya good advice here. Listen up. Amy don't love that clown..."

"Asshole," I corrected him. "Liam is an asshole."

"Yeah, right, whatever. Don't matter what ya call him, he ain't the one she spent last night with is he? And unless she's some slut..." He saw the look in my eyes and put up his hands and spoke quickly. "And she ain't, I know that. But that's gotta mean she likes you too." It was his turn to shrug. "She just don't know it yet."

"I wish I believed that."

"I'm telling you this thing with the asshole, it's just a habit," he pointed to a pack of cigarettes on the dashboard. "They can be hard to break."

We pulled up to the front of the terminal.

"Impossible," I agreed sadly as we both got out to get my bag from the trunk.

"Nah, not really. That pack of cigs? That's five years old. My wife asked me to quit cause she was worried about my coughing. Told me she wasn't sticking around just to end up a widow. She seems to want me around for as long as possible. We been married thirty years and she ain't tired of me yet." He grinned. "Thirty fuckin years."

"That's great."

"Yeah, well, the thing I'm trying to say here is that I didn't never think I was going to be able to stop sucking on the weeds, but when it came down to it, I realized I had something a lot better going for me. I ain't never regretted it neither."

He slammed down the trunk and took the bills I held out to him. "So what I say Charlie, is go for it. Tell the girl you love her for Christ's sake!"

I watched him walk back to the front of the cab and open the door. "Hey James, how come you still have the cigarettes? Keeping your options open?"

He laughed. "Hell no, but it's less corny to have them up there than a picture of Connie. Keeps the guys from giving me shit."

He waved and took off two seconds before a cop came over to order him away. I walked into the airport and immediately saw Clem standing there. Of course how could I miss him when he was waving his arms like the scarecrow in The Wizard of OZ.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Was what he said when he got close enough to speak to me.

"Nothing." Everything.

"Good," he stepped back and glared at me. "Cause we got work to do."

We spent the next forty-five minutes going over the little bit the team at the office had managed to put together for me. I hoped they'd come up with something better by the time I got there or it was going to be a fucking long week.

The plane ride was the usual, long periods of boredom interspersed with short moments of stark terror. I hate flying and every mile I'm up there I figure I'm that much closer to running out of luck. Of course this time there was a golden side. If we crashed I wouldn't have to figure out what to do about Amy.

But we didn't, and a couple hours later I was at the hospital getting chewed a new one and praying that the folks there wouldn't see that I didn't have a goddamn clue how to take care of their little problem. Then I spent the next seven hours trying to figure things out so I could get my ass back to Chicago and not have to spend another day here. Didn't work.

I finally got to my hotel room about 2AM. I set a wake up call for six and stood under the shower until my skin pruned and I figured I'd just about drained the hot water supply for the entire place. I crawled into bed and shut my eyes.

I couldn't sleep. All I could think about was the night before and where I'd been at about this time. While I'd been working I'd pretty much managed to keep my mind on the job, but the minute I'd gotten out of there I'd forgotten all about work and started to concentrate on what was really important. 

I reached over to the pile of clothes on the floor and pulled up my shirt. It may have been my imagination, but I could still smell Amy on the collar where she'd rested her arms when she'd hugged me. I took a deep breath and slid my hand down to my rapidly filling cock.

Okay, so I'd probably had more sex in the last twenty-four hours than I'd had in the last three months. Apparently my dick had no limits when it came to one little brunette. His Highness sprang to life and with the help of Mr. Hand and his five friends, we did a little strolling down memory lane. 

It wasn't as good as the real thing, but even the thought of Amy was more enticing to me than any of the porno that was on the motel's cable. After that I ended up changing beds, since I'd hadn't exactly planned ahead when I started to jerk off and lying in the wet spot was just plain stupid when there was another bed just waiting for me to crawl into. 

I was so goddamn tired, but still I couldn't sleep. Tell the girl you love her. James words rang in my head. He was right. I knew he was right. 

There was only one problem. Amy was safely tucked into her pretty bed in Chicago and I was here, under the orange and gold spread of a no-name motel in Roswell, New Mexico. Too far to drop by so I could tell her she was love of my life and I'd left her address in my frozen Suburu so I couldn't even send her flowers. Worst of all, in the rush to leave I'd forgotten to get her phone number. I didn't think speed dial two was going to help me this time.

Yeah, it was going to be a fucking long week.

*****

Author's note: To all of you who have written and encouraged me to not give up on this story, my heartfelt thanks. It really is because of you that I've continued to write. I'm working on Chapter Eight now and I promise you'll see it soon. 

I also want to thank my editor, Morgan and also a special thanks to Scott, who's encouragement and ideas have helped shape this chapter.



Amy's Smile Ch. 08



It took three days to identify the problem and ten minutes to fix it. The hospital was happy, my company was relieved-the people who'd been raised from the dead were thrilled. Me, I just wanted to go home.

I'd done my damnedest to find a way to reach Amy, but it was a bust. I'd tried the Internet listings, information, I even broke down and called home to see if I could get Liam to ask her for the number and call me back. He wasn't home and the twelve messages I left on the machine didn't seem to clue him in that I wanted him to phone me back. 

I didn't like that fact-not at all. My imagination went into overdrive about why my asshole roommate couldn't find the time to pick up the phone. I even dreamed about it: Liam and Amy in some big vat of chocolate and him licking her... 

I don't want to get into it.

But it was only three days, right. I mean, what could happen? It wasn't even the weekend; that had to be in my favor. They both had jobs after all and Liam couldn't exactly call his boss and say, "Hey dude, I know I'm supposed to be dating your daughter, but this chick I know has morphed into this really hot babe so I'm going to call in sick for a few days so I can fuck her senseless. Tell Barbarella hi."

Anyway, I'd said goodbye to the fair city of Roswell and was winging my way home. I could hardly sit in my seat I was that anxious to get back to Chicago. When we finally got our first glimpse of the Windy City, I was so thrilled I damn near cried. Home at last.

Well sort of. At least I got to the baggage check, before I heard my name over the loudspeaker.

It was Clem. There had been a meeting. 

I hate it when people have a meeting. It always ends up that whoever's missing gets the shaft and since I'm the schmuck who's always seeing the world via every little dumbshit town in America the Beautiful-that would be me. 

This was no exception. My bosses had decided that rather than gamble that what had happened in New Mexico was a fluke (Which is what some of our greedier brethren were insisting.) this time they'd listen to the voice of doom-better known as Clem-and try and fix things before history repeated itself.

So now I was supposed to go to some of the other garden spots that represented our bread and butter and set things right before they went oh so wrong. Even as we spoke there was ticket waiting for me at the counter for Minoc, North Dakota. 

Shit.

I'm an adult-sort of-and I had to admit it did seem like the thing to do. A couple more stunts like this with the homicidal program and we wouldn't even have the backwater market let alone have to worry about expansion into towns where there were more people than cows. It would be disastrous for the company, to say nothing about what it would do to my current employment status. As a mature individual, I could see this and realized that whining about it would not be productive.

Okay, I whined, but hell, it was just Clem. 

So, I went to Minoc. From there to Freedom, Oklahoma, then Needles, California. After that I didn't bother looking at the names, I just grabbed the ticket some counter girl handed me and looked for the gate. The sales guys had been busy. They managed to palm off more of these systems then I'd realized. I ended up in eleven towns in as many days and that didn't include the weekend I was stuck in Dumas, Mississippi. Three guesses what my pet nickname for it was. 

Thank god once I got someplace it never took very long to fix the problem, but the getting there was something else again. It was the whole planes, trains and automobiles experience with a few Greyhound Buses thrown in for good measure. 

This was rotten on so many levels I won't even go into it. I mean, I really hate washing out my underwear in the sink with nothing but hotel shampoo so it dries stiff as a board. But the worst was I had a ton of time left to think about how much I missed Amy. Well, how much I missed her, loved her, was totally unworthy of her and was probably at that very moment, losing her to that asshole, Liam. 

I was not in a good mood.

Finally, I was finished. If people died in one of those towns, they were going to stay dead. I bumped wearily out of my seat on a plane that was twice the size of every other plane I'd been in lately and schlepped my way out to the baggage area. Then I stopped as I saw something that made my blood run cold.

Leroy Sykes obviously had survivor skills I hadn't given him credit for because he backed up when he saw the look on my face. Too bad he didn't have eyes in the back of his head though 'cause he blew his escape when he tripped over some luggage. 

My luggage.

Stuff I hadn't brought with me on my supposed few days out of town. What the fuck was he doing with freshly packed bags? And if I killed him and stuffed his body in a dumpster, would anyone believe me when I said I hadn't seen him at the airport? "Okay, this wasn't my idea!" 

"No." I went over to the carousel and waited for my duffel. Lee schlepped after me, tripping over his perpetually untied shoelaces.

"No? Whadya mean no? You don't even know what I was going to say."

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter, it obviously isn't something I want to hear or you wouldn't have started out that way. So the answer is no."

"Aw, come on Charlie, don't be like this. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important."

"You wouldn't be here if you hadn't picked the short straw." 

From the look on his face, I'd scored a hit. "Yeah, well, some people cheat." He jammed his hands in his pockets and sighed.

Dammit, I hated it when he got that kicked puppy look. I mean this guy was already a poster boy for losers anonymous-when he added the, don't kick me look he ratcheted up his pathetic ratio into the six digits. 

"Okay," I sighed and capitulated with as little grace as possible. "What's the bad news?"

"It's not that bad, honest," he handed me a plane ticket.

I was afraid to look, but I did anyway. "Fergus Falls, Minnesota?"

"Yeah, it's a clinic, real normal shit this time. The office manager took a course, Code Writing for Illiterates or sumpthin and thought that made him the new K Thompson. He decided to enhance our system and completely crashed the fucker. Now they want you out there to see if it's salvageable. Shouldn't take more than a day or two."

"Uh huh," I narrowed my eyes. "And what if it's toast?"

Leroy shrugged and looked down at the ground. "Let us know and we'll ship you whatever you need."

Which translated to, if the system was beyond repair then I was going to have to start from scratch and install brand new software and no doubt hardware to support it. Then it probably wouldn't work like the old shit and I'd have to teach it to everyone, including the idiot who ruined the old one. This didn't sound like a day or two to me. Hell, the way things were going by the time I got back Amy would not only have jumped in the sack with Liam, she'd be married to him and having his kid. 

I was still mulling over how long I could eat if I quit right then, when Leroy said something that brought me back to reality.

"I almost forgot," he said. "When I went to your house for the clothes there was a girl there. She said to give you this." He handed me a note. 

Charlie, Liam said you'd called for my phone number. It's 555-2356 at home and 444-1245 at work. Call me if you want and get a chance. I miss you, Amy

I read it twice before I allowed myself to believe it. Then I read it again.

She missed me. 

I grinned like a sap and had to restrain myself from picking up Leroy and hugging him. He saw my expression and backed up again.

"Are you okay?" He asked suspiciously.

"I'm great!" I laughed out loud and he took another step away.

"Uh huh," he didn't sound convinced, "Well, you need to get to your gate."

"Right, no problem." 

Leroy started to look worried, "Are you sure you're alright?"

I took a good look at the weedy goatee, straggly ponytail, and the line of zits that circled his neck like a pus filled necklace and thought a face couldn't get much worse. Then there were his clothes. Black high tops he probably rolled a bum for, black jeans that sagged at the knees and ass, and a Grateful Dead T that had probably been his dad's in the sixties. 

"Lee?" I said finally. "Do you still have that thing for Rambo?"

My good mood lasted for an hour and fifty-three minutes. That's how long it took me to make eight phone calls to Amy's house before I remembered it was still a school day for most people and she'd be at work. Since I had that number too, I made the next obvious call.

No, sorry, Amy Pierson was not in. No, she wasn't expected either. Then being a representative of a bank that prided itself on its open, friendly policy, the bitch at the other end hung up.

Now there were lots of very good reasons why Amy wasn't at home or work. I was sure of it. The problem was, I couldn't think of any. I couldn't think of anything but Amy, Liam, and that vat of chocolate. 

In the rush of excitement that'd followed Lee giving me the note, I'd sort of skipped over the fact that he'd seen Amy at my house. I wasn't skipping anymore. There was only one reason I could think of for Amy to be there on a Thursday morning and it wasn't because it was laundry day. Just to pour salt in the wound, I picked up the phone and dialed another number. 

No, Liam Caderette was not in. No, they didn't expect him to be in the rest of the week. 

This time I did the hanging up.

I would have continued my masochistic tendencies and called home at that point, but we were landing and had to refrain from using all mechanical devises. I wondered if that included pitching the phone through the goddamn window, but managed to refrain from finding out-just.

We hit terra firma uneventfully and I was planning on finally learning the awful truth, but when I got off the plane there was a scared looking little guy in a pair of tiger print scrubs waving a sign with my name. I went over reluctantly and introduced myself. He returned the favor. His name was Arnie Pederson and it didn't take a genius to realize this was the office manager with delusions of Bill Joy running through his head. Now his dick was in a wringer and he knew it. I was his one chance to maintain active employment and it was obvious that nothing would be too much for me to ask of him.

Normally this is a situation I have no problem taking advantage of. Steak dinners and really good scotch figure heavily into my criteria for how to make me grateful. But at that point, it was all I could do to keep from circling his neck with my hands. He was after all the reason I was 600 miles away from the woman I thought should be voted most desirable on the planet. 

I did let him run over to the Alamo desk and hurry up the paperwork for the subcompact my company thought was appropriate to my status, but then I pulled out my cell and forgot the little guy even existed. I punched in my home number and waited, half expecting to get the machine again. 

"Talk."

It was not the machine. I was so surprised to hear the dumb jock voice of Liam that I didn't speak for a moment.

"Hey, pervert. Either talk to me or I'm hanging the fuck up."

"Liam?"

"Duuude! What up man? Where the hell are ya?" Apparently, Liam had forgotten about the fight the last time we'd actually been in the same room together, but then, when you're an asshole and a moron it's hard to retain details.

"Um, some airport. What the hell are you doing home?" I wanted to add with Amy, but I restrained myself.

"Huh? I mean, if you didn't know I was home why are you calling here?"

"No, I knew you were..." I had a feeling this was not the way to go about this conversation. "I called your work. They said you were off."

"Yeah, right."

I waited. Liam just breathed into the phone. 

Okay, try again. "Why aren't you at work?"

"Oh, yeah, cause Bambi and me were supposed to go skiing for a long weekend at Boyne."

A long weekend? Christ, it was only Tuesday. Still it sounded promising. If he was 300 miles away, it wasn't likely he'd be putting the moves on Amy. I started to relax.

"But she cancelled; said she didn't feel like it after all." I stopped relaxing. "So I took the today off anyway. I'm taking her out to dinner tonight though."

"Great, happy for you." Like I gave a shit about Liam's love life except as it pertained to one little brunette. "Is Amy there?"

"Nah, she was here earlier, but she left. Hey dude, have you seen that chick lately?"

"Yes," I struggled to get the words out between gritted teeth. "I've seen her."

"Damn! Who'da thought she'd clean up so good you know? I mean she's kinda like totally cute now. Definitely do-able, if you know what I mean."

I was talking to a dead man. He just didn't know it yet.

"Where-is-she?" I hissed.

"Who?"

A slow, painful death. 

"Amy!"

"How the hell would I know, dude? You know how she is, she comes; she goes..."

Lots of torture. I wondered where I could buy thumbscrews. 

"Look," I finally managed to spit out as I watched Arnie Pederson wrap up his business at the car counter and start to sidle cautiously toward me. "Here's the place I'm staying. If you see Amy, tell her to get in touch with me."

I gave him the name of the motel and hoped to god he was actually writing it down instead of just waving his finger in the air and doing that pretend thing like I'd seen him do dozens of times when he didn't give a fuck about what the person on the other end of the phone was saying. Arnie had finally finished creeping up to me and I was just saying goodbye when Liam stopped me.

"Duuude! I almost forgot. You got a phone call today, from somebody. They left a message."

"Which is?"

"Um, just a minute, Amy talked to them and she put the note somewhere..." I could hear rustling and then a crash and the shattering of glass. "Oh Fuck!"

"What happened?"

"Oh, uh nothing." 

Yeah, right. 

"Here it is." Liam took a deep breath like he was going to start reciting the Gettysburg Address. "Charlie, your mom called. She wants to know if you'll be home for your birthday. Give her a call so she can make plans. Thanks, Amy. Dude is it your birthday?"

I thought about it a minute. "Yeah, Friday."

"Cool. So you gonna be home so we can celebrate?"

Like celebrating anything with Liam was ever going to be on my list of to-dos. But there was no way in hell I was going to be stuck in Minnesota either. "I'll be home."

"Great, see ya then duuude." Liam hung up.

I stood there staring off into space until Arnie cleared his throat apologetically. "What?" It came out a little more forceful then I'd planned. 

Arnie grinned a sickly grin and handed me some keys. I barely batted an eyelash when he told me he'd upgraded it to a brand new Land Rover Freelander because the roads around there could be kind of tricky in the snow. I guess he'd been hoping for a little gratitude, but all I could think about was Liam and the new, improved, do-able Amy. I glared at Arnie.

I think that's when he started to stutter.

After going to my motel and getting checked in, I followed his Vee Dub over to the clinic and took a quick look at the equipment. Fucked was the only word that came to mind. I was determined though and I rolled up my sleeves and started to try and pull off a miracle. Not that I gave a shit about the clinic or the moron that was about to loose his job. I just wanted to get back to Chicago and try to figure out how I could make Liam disappear permanently. Arnie took one look at my expression and vanished into an office. The only time I heard from him again was when he asked me what I liked on my pizza.

I worked on that fucking system until 3AM and I'd have worked longer, but Arnie finally came out of his hiding place and pleaded with me to go to my hotel and get some sleep. Of course, this wasn't altruism, it was exhaustion, he couldn't leave until I did. But he was right. I could barely keep my eyes open. Besides, it was hopeless. I was going to have to break down, call Lee, and tell him to send out the new stuff. 

I finally made it back to my motel and collapsed onto the bed. I never even made it under the covers before I was gone. I guess that was one good thing about being wiped, my brain couldn't function enough to think about Amy. 

I forgot another thing too and this one woke me up out of dead sleep, heart pounding, and a really sick feeling deep down in the pit of my stomach. I hadn't called my mother back. 

Damn. 

My mom has this thing about birthdays. She loves them. When I was a kid this was a perk, but by the time you're my age sitting around the dining room table with a miniature plastic fireman's hat perched on your head and your entire family blowing noisemakers and spit at you gets a little old.

The problem was Mom liked to relive her youth by making her kids to look like idiots. And it wasn't easy getting out of her idea of celebrating in style. I'd been trying for years and the only time I'd managed was the year I came down with mono in college. Even then, I'd been afraid she'd show up and give my frat brothers enough ammunition to nail my ass for the rest of my life. 

This was not paranoia on my part. My eighteenth birthday, she surprised me with a party where she invited half the kids in my class and most of the football team. There we all were, jammed into the back yard drinking Vernor's floats watching a blindfolded Todd Monzma beating the shit out of a piñata shaped like a leprechaun because I'd been accepted the week before to Notre Dame. The only reason she hadn't hired a clown to make balloon animals was because my dad took pity on me and told her he wouldn't pay for it.

At least this year I'd have a legitimate excuse to blow her off. Even she couldn't expect me to truck up to Milwaukee the same day I got back from a trip. Well, she could expect it, but she probably wouldn't throw the usual snit like she always did when I tried my annual weaseling out of the cake and ice cream routine. Amy had probably even already softened the blow, when she'd told her I was away. 

Then it hit me. Amy had talked to my mother. Double shit! I sat straight up in bed and looked around for a paper bag to ward off the panic attack I could feel coming on.

I love my mom. Really. She's one of the best I've ever heard of and if she could learn to shut up when a game's on and quit asking stupid questions about why that tackle was being so mean to the quarterback she'd be damn near perfect. Except for this one tiny thing. Deep in her heart she believes that the only way I was ever going to find a wife was if she helps. 

She's been helping since I was about thirteen.

It started innocently enough. She'd see a girl she thought was cute and point her out to me. Most of the time she was dead wrong, but it wasn't hurting anything so what the hell. Then she branched out. She'd wait until we right on top of the bowser and then say-right out loud-Oh Charlie, isn't she pretty! The first time she did this, I almost pissed my pants. 

I took to staying as far away from my mother as possible, but that just added a new wrinkle. I'd be in aisle five safely perusing the merits of Fruity Pebbles against those of Count Chocula thinking I'd lost her at the lunchmeat display, when suddenly there she'd be, waving at me to come over and meet the nice girl-and we all know what nice translates to-she'd picked up in fruits and vegetables.

At that point, I remember begging her to not do that again. I should have known better. It just egged her on. Now she acted like it was her true mission because, as she told all the women at her tennis club, My youngest, Charlie, is so shy around girls. Uh huh, and who made me that way, I wonder. And it didn't help that I'd spent most of teenaged years as the 90 pound weakly that couldn't possible compete with all my testosterone overloaded and more developed peers, a fact my mother never seemed to notice.




Amy's Smile Ch. 08



But even after I'd grown and gotten a handle on the whole dating women thing, my mother still felt she was necessary in the process. She rarely went a week without calling with the thrilling news that Alice, from the bank, has this friend (or Jan in my book club has this niece) who just moved to Chicago so I got her phone number for you and oh, by the way, I called her and let her know you'd be getting in contact with her and she seemed really excited after I told her all about you.

It was the all about you part that was making me nauseous knowing she'd talked to Amy. Because my mother wouldn't let a little thing like not having a clue about how the fuck I knew this girl-or more to the point, what I wanted her to know about me-stand in the way of telling her every humiliating thing I'd ever done, including how I'd really gotten the scar at the base of my cock. 

If Amy had given her any encouragement, of which I had no doubt since I knew how polite she was, my mother would have started with the first labor pain and continued to last week's phone call when I'd cut her off by accident when the bus I was on went into a tunnel. Then there would have been the 'natural' (only to my mother) segue way into how she wouldn't feel like a truly successful parent until all of her kids where firmly ensconced in a three bedroom Cape Cod with a spouse and two kids and by the way did Amy like big weddings or was she more the casual type?

I was half tempted to pick up the phone and call Liam and ask how long Amy and my indiscrete mater had talked and I would have if it hadn't been almost 4AM. Not that I gave a shit about waking up the asshole, but I figured that: A) His attention span wasn't developed enough to take in anything that didn't relate specifically to him. And: B) I knew from experience that getting him to utter a coherent sentence was iffy at the best of times and those didn't include the first two hours after he woke up. 

So instead I paced and swore and managed to half convince myself that Amy's finding out how insane my mom was wouldn't really make my chances any worse with her. Of course, that reminded me how bad they were in the first place and on that sorry note I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over my head. 

My wake-up call was for 8AM. At nine, the manager came and pounded on my door to make sure I wasn't dead. I staggered over and assured him I wasn't, but I think the way I looked made him wonder if I was really telling the truth. Twenty minutes later I was showered and shaved and on the phone to the office telling them they had till that afternoon to get the new equipment here. Then I called Arnie and told him the happy news. 

He wasn't very happy.

After that, there wasn't much else to do but eat and wait. I wandered out to the nearest Mickey D's and grabbed an order McPancakes and McSausage and then took the entire McSlop back to my room and chowed down. With my belly full, I finally got the nerve up to make the call to my mom. 

It went surprisingly well, at least at first. She said she understood why I couldn't make it home for my big day (Her words, not mine.) and at least that sweet girl, Amy, had told her that she'd make sure I wasn't alone for it. That cheered me up for about thirty seconds until she added that Amy had said she'd get my roommate, the asshole, (My words, not hers.) to keep me company. 

Part of me was dying to ask her what she and the sweet girl had talked about, but I've been my mother's son all my life and knew better than to ask any questions that might engage her curiosity. So, I just agreed and said I'd talk to her when I got back to Chicago and hung up before she could think of a reason why she should move the party to my place. 

There was only one other person left that I needed to talk to. Okay, wanted to talk too-the need was purely my own pathetic addiction to her voice. But when I called her house, I got her machine again. A second try at her work got a friendlier clerk, but no Amy. At least she was there though, just in an all-day meeting.

I went back to bed. 

At three, Clem called and said the stuff was on the way and to be at the airport at 4:22 to pick it up. I passed on the info to Arnie, who almost sobbed in relief. I thought he was a little premature with the tears; there'd be plenty of time for those when he saw the bill.

I tried Amy again, but this time she was, 'out of the building'. I thought about leaving my cell number, but decided the call would have to wait anyway since it was about to be show time at the clinic. Besides, I didn't want to be rushed when we finally spoke. I didn't know what I wanted to actually say, you understand, but I wanted the time to say it when I finally figured it out. 

I'd never bothered to undress for my five hour 'nap' and it showed, but fuck it, I worked with computers, I was supposed to look like a geek. I brushed my teeth, stuck my head under the tap, and called it good. Then I drove over to the airport and watched the baggage handlers toss around the fragile equipment like it was unbreakable beach balls. Eventually I loaded it up in the Freelander and made my merry way back to the clinic.

It was a repeat of the night before including the pizza. This time though when Arnie stuck his head out of the office looking like something out of Night of the Living Dead and begging for sleep time I only growled at him to find a comfy desk and use his coat for a pillow. He gulped and did his turtle impression by ducking back into his office. 

I finally finished at 7AM. Arnie must have slipped out when the coast was clear and I wasn't looking because he wasn't in his office. There was a note though. It said, If you need me I'm in Exam Room 12. That's where I found him too after a little trial and error. He was laid out on a gyno table, his head resting on a bunch of scrubs and his feet stuck in the stirrups. It was not a Kodak moment.

"Get up." Arnie grunted and shifted his hips like he was waiting for someone to tell him bend over and cough. I leaned over and pushed the release for the stirrups.

"What the...?" Arnie rubbed his eyes and looked around the room until he spotted me. Then he cringed. "Is something wrong?"

My whole life, but I didn't think that's what he meant. 

"I'm done," I was too tired to torment him though the thought was appealing. "Come on, I'll show you."

We walked silently back into the office. Arnie listened politely while I ran through things, but I could tell he didn't have a fucking clue what I was talking about. This guy was so dense about computers I didn't know how he'd known enough to mess up the program in the first place.

I ran through it twice more and finally started to see a little spark of recognition in those dull eyes. It wasn't enough though and I was just about to start over for the fourth time when some of the other staff started to arrive. 

One of them, a girl who was maybe eighteen came over. She'd hung around a little yesterday afternoon too before Arnie had shooed her out. Not much to look at unless you were into purple and green hair and enough piercings to play connect the dots. She smiled at me, flicked her gold laden tongue out to lick the diamond stud at the corner of her mouth, and then asked if she could watch. I nodded and went back to explaining the system to Arnie for the forth time only vaguely away that Goth-girl had moved in closer and was looking at some of my notes. 

"Oh," she said. "I know this."

That got my attention. "You do?" 

"Sure, it's just a variation of CdakX4.1 isn't it?"

If I wasn't already in love with Amy, I might have given this Rocky Horror reject my heart. "4.2 actually."

She grinned and sucked on her tongue stud, "Cool."

I told Arnie to beat it and sat Drucilla (Well that's what she told me her name was, some of the others when they came in called her Debbie.) down and started again. I got about halfway through when I realized that she'd taken over the discussion and already knew more about how the system worked than I did. My day looked like it was starting to pick up.

It was. With Drucilla/Debbie by my side, I started in on the training. This wasn't the biggest clinic in the world, but there were about fifty employees on two shifts and every one of them needed to know at least something about how the system worked. We took over Arnie's office, put in a second computer, and started to herd in ten or twelve people at a time. Since with that many it was going to take a minimum two hours to train a group it made for a very long day. Drucilla was great though and after the first couple of groups, I had her split off the ones she figured would pick it up quicker and show them herself. It cut the time down, but we still weren't completely done until almost ten that night.

"Damn," I rubbed my neck. "I'm beat."

Drucilla/Debbie just grinned at me, "It was fun though, wasn't it?" She danced around a little and the three rings in her eyebrow bounced up and down so hard I wanted to wince. 

"If that's your idea of fun than you really need to go find a job in the computer industry."

She nodded, "I plan on it. That's what I'm studying at college."

It's what I'd figured. I already knew that this was just a part time job for her. She'd told me the only reason she'd been in while I was there was because her school was on semester break and she was picking up extra hours.

"Well, when your finished, let me know." I handed her my card. My bosses were always looking for talent and her fashion sense wouldn't be a deterrent either. I mean they'd hired Leroy hadn't they? "How would you feel about living in Chicago?"

"Cool!"

Drucilla didn't have a car. She'd hitched a ride with her dad that morning so I'd offered to drop her off on my way to the motel. Hell, it was the least I could do. Without her help, there would have been no way I'd have been able to get out flight out the next day. I might have even needed to stay another weekend. 

In the state I was in that would not have been a good thing, not only for me but for anyone else I happened to come in contact with. Hell, you might even say she'd had a potential hand in saving Arnie Pederson's life and prevented me from having an up close and personal relationship with a seven foot convict roommate who went by the name of Sven the Impaler. 

She went to get her coat and I looked at the clock. It was still early enough to call Amy. It still wasn't ideal, but if I wanted to talk to her at all before I finally got home, it was going to have to happen soon. But before I could punch in the number Dru came back. I sighed and pocketed my phone. 

We walked out together into the bitter wind of a Minnesota winter. It was snowing like a bitch. I'd vaguely been aware of some talk of a blizzard, but hadn't taken the time to look out a window. Now I could see what they were talking about. Damn, and I thought we got snow in Chicago.

My stomach growled. There hadn't been any pizza tonight. Once I'd ordered Arnie out of my sight, he'd apparently done a powder. At least no one had seen him. D/D had told me he was a jerk, but had real job security because his wife was the chief physician's sister. I only hoped that didn't mean he'd be back to playing with the computers again any time soon. Fergus Falls wasn't exactly my kind of town and I didn't want to be revisiting for as long as possible.

My stomach rumbled again. I guess it wasn't happy with the fact that all I'd put into it that day were three apple fritters and half of Dru's tuna sandwich. Which gave me an idea.

"Hey, I haven't even thanked you for how much you helped today. How about I take you out to eat? Where's the best steak in town?" I was hungry and I really did owe her. 

"Burgoyne's," she shook her head and laughed, "but it's been closed since nine."

"Anything open?" Though when I thought about it, I seriously doubted it. This was not a booming metropolis. Hell, it wasn't a booming anything.

Dru thought about it for a second while I stomped my feet to prevent frostbite, then her face lightened. "I know a great place. I can't promise you steak, but I can guarantee whatever it is will be excellent."

"Then lead on MacDuff."

Looking puzzled, the girl said seriously, "Actually, my last name is Sorenson."

Oh yeah, she'd fit in great at my company.

The roads were worse than bad. For one brief, second I was grateful to Arnie for the upgrade to four-wheel drive. Then I thought about the fact that he was why I'd needed to be here in the first place and the warm fuzzies died a quick death.

Druscilla/Debbie directed me down a bunch of side streets until we got to a residential area filled with stucco bungalows that all looked pretty much alike. I was so busy trying not to slide down the street sideways while memorizing the way back out of there that I didn't notice the lack of restaurants until Drucilla pointed to one of the houses and said, "Here we are."

Uh oh. 

She was a sweet kid and by now I'd figured out that under all the metal she was pretty cute too, but the last thing I was interested in tonight was seeing any more of her. For one thing, she was goddamn young, and then there was the very real possibility that the piercings didn't stop at her neck and call me old fashioned, but sliding my dick through a minefield of safety pins just wasn't a turn on. But neither of those things would have stopped me if that was all it. The truth was I didn't feel like having sex.

Hell, where had that come from?

In my whole life, or at least since I'd hit puberty, sex was something I wanted as often as possible. You know that old joke about how do you get a woman to go to bed with you? There's a list of about eleven hundred things you have to do to convince her and then when you finally get to the end of it, there's another one about what you have to do to get a man into bed. All it says is: 'Bring beer and show up naked.' Well, I'd always been willing to skip the beer.

Yes, I was in love, but what the hell did that have to do with sex? I'd been in love with Tracy Nigg too, but when Elise Langhorn had wiggled her butt in my face and told me she'd always fantasized about a one night stand I'd been all over it-and her. I mean love is all fine and good, but sex is... Well, sex.

Except now it wasn't. Now it was Amy. Only Amy. I suddenly realized I'd been away from home for almost three weeks and the only women I'd even given a glance to were small, dark and had at least one physical trait the reminded me of the little girl from Green Bay. And even with them, I'd never given them a second look because they couldn't possibly live up to the real thing. 

Druscilla/Debbie didn't have a chance.

"Uh, this is where you live?" I was stalling for time, trying to think of a reason why I wasn't going to go in the house with her.

"Yeah, well, me and my parents and my dumbass brother, but he'll be in bed cause he's only ten."

"Oh," I relaxed. I highly doubted Druscilla/D. was planning on seducing me while mom and dad were watching Leno in the living room. Then I thought of something else. "Are you sure your folks will be okay with you just showing up like this with a strange man?"

"No biggie," she shrugged, "they know I was working late with you. They'll be fine. Or actually Mom will be, Dad's out plowing."

"Hope he's doing the airport," I muttered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." But that wasn't really the truth. 

The thing I'd been obsessing about ever since I'd taken the first turn out of the parking lot and slid halfway into the wrong lane was worrying whether the airport in this burg would be open in the morning. With my luck, it wouldn't be and I wouldn't be able to get out of here until god knows when. Like I've said before, this is the way my life works.

We got out of the car and shuffled our way to the back door. Maybe Drucilla's dad (I was willing to make book that he called her Debbie) plowed snow for a living, but it was obvious he didn't give a high priority to his own house. It was knee deep in some spots. I managed to find them all too, so I was pretty much soaked by the time we made it inside.

"Take off your shoes and socks and put them by the radiator," D pointed to an ancient iron thing that blasted out enough heat for a room twice as big. It felt wonderful. "I'll go get my mom and see what she can whip up for us."

"Hey, I don't want to be any trouble," I was already starting to struggle back into my frozen shoes.

"Don't worry about it. Like I said, she's used to it."

Drucilla disappeared and I peeled off my ice-incrusted socks. I started to lay them on the radiator top, but it sizzled and I decided that wouldn't be a very smart move after all and put them on the floor and hoped they were far enough away from the thing to not spontaneously combust. 

She still hadn't come back though I could hear voices in another room. I stuck my head into the next one, but it was only an empty kitchen. I went in and sat down at the table. My cell phone fell out of my pocket and I picked it up and stared at it. If I were going to try and talk to Amy at all tonight then it would have to be now. It was getting late and I knew she had work in the morning.

Still I hesitated. If she didn't answer than it could only mean she was out, either with Miriam or, and I had to force myself to admit it, Liam. I wasn't sure I could take a whole night wondering which it was. 

Tell the girl you love her. James' voice came out of nowhere. 

"Yeah, yeah," I told the voice in my head. With sweaty fingers, I punched in the numbers.

It rang twice, "Hello?"

I held out the cell and shook it. Must be a something really wrong with the line because the voice on the other end didn't even sound human. "Hello."

"Who is this?" 

Halfway through the 'Who' I'd pulled the phone away to stretch it a full arms length away from my ear. The voice on the other end was still loud as hell. The memory bell finally rang.

"Miriam?"

"Who's askin'?" Came the suspicious reply.

"Uh, yeah, right. This is Amy's friend, Charlie."

"Oooh, Chaaarlie... Yeah, Amy told me about you. All about you."

What the hell did that mean? Whatever it was I decided I didn't want to discuss it and take the risk of permanent hearing loss. "Um, great, I guess. Look, can I talk to her?"

"Nope. She's not here."

Huh? If Amy wasn't there, than what the hell was Miriam doing at her house?

Though I hadn't actually said that out loud, Miriam answered my question anyway. "Funny thing is, she's at your place."

I didn't think it was funny.

"She went over there a little while ago to get some clothes for Liam."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Miriam took this as a sign to keep talking.

"Oh, you don't know yet do you?"

"Know what?" I finally croaked, not wanting to hear the answer, but compelled to find out anyway.

"Liam got dumped by his girlfriend!"

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," I really was too, but probably not for the same reason Miriam was.

"I know, that bitch... What's her name? Blixen, or something-sumpthin' screwy like that. Anyway, the little slut ran off and eloped with her personal trainer. Seems he'd been teaching her how to really do the press and squat."

At any other time I might have enjoyed the whole mind picture Miriam was creating for me, and god knows it was what Liam deserved, but all could think of was now he was free for Amy. 

"Hey, Charlie, you still there?"

"Yeah, and it's Bambi." Now I remembered her name.

I could hear her shrug through the phone, "Bambi, Blixen, I knew it reminded me of hooves. Anyway Bambi comes into Liam's work today and flashes the old ring under his nose, then waltzes into Daddy's office and tells him the happy news along with the fact that now that she and Liam are definitely ex, she'd feel real uncomfortable coming into see Popsy if she had to think she might catch a glimpse of him. Liam I mean, Daddy's okay-he has the checkbook. The old man agrees he can see how that might be a problem so now Liam is not only out the babe, but out of a job too."




Amy's Smile Ch. 08



For one tiny second I thought about feeling sorry for Liam after that last bit. Then Miriam went on with her story.

"So Liam does what any guy would do; he goes out and gets toasted. Hell, charred is more the word. He's so bad he can't find his keys, but he does find his cell phone so he calls our mutual friend at work. It's only 2PM you understand. Anyway, he tells her the whole sad tale. Amy's all upset and sorry for the guy, well, who wouldn't be?" 

I could have told her, but she didn't give me time. 

"But she's tied up in a meeting and can't leave so I volunteered to pick up the poor goop and bring him over here 'til she could get home. Between us, we managed to shove some coffee down him, but he was still a mess and Amy didn't think he should be alone so she went over to his place to get his jammies and some jeans for tomorrow."

I stood there and digested this wealth of information. When I was finished, I only had one question. 

"Where's Liam?"

The way I figured it, this was the pivotal piece of info in this whole soap opera. If Liam was passed out on the couch, with a puke bucket by his mouth, I wasn't going to worry. Not much anyway. But if he was now soberly accompanying Amy on a trip through his underwear drawer than I figured even he'd have enough imagination to figure out a way to get my, my, sweet love to offer him the kind of up close and personal comfort you can only get when you're naked.

Miriam didn't answer right away, then finally said, "Uh, Liam? Where is he?"

"Yeah, is that a hard question?" I know, I know, it wasn't her fault, but dammit why couldn't the woman get to the point?

"Nooo," she finally admitted. "He's with Amy. Why, did you want to speak to him?"

Yeah, right. "That's okay."

"Cause I'll tell him you called and how you were real concerned and if you want, I can have him call you?" She said the last bit like she wasn't sure it was a good idea. No shit, Liam would be too busy using his tongue to lick bits of Amy to bother talking to me.

"That won't be necessary."

"Good... I mean, okay. I mean, geez, the poor guy, he's so upset. I'm so glad he has such a close friend like Amy to help him get through all this, aren't you?"

I closed my eyes and pictured my fist breaking all 47 of Liam's pearly whites. "Miriam, you have no idea."

We said our goodbyes and then I sat there not knowing whether I should scream or throw up. I'd forgotten completely about my little friend until she cleared her throat behind me. 

"You okay?"

No, but I nodded. Words would not have been a good idea since the only ones going through my mind were of the four-letter variety.

"I mean you looked sort of funny there."

It took me a minute to figure out what she was talking about. Then I realized the whole time I'd been on the phone I'd been extending my arm in and out depending if I was talking or listening to Miriam's screeching. I must have looked like I was doing one-armed calisthenics.

"Bad connection." Yeah along with bad voice, bad news and bad end to my hopes for Amy and me.

She shrugged, "Yeah, whatever. So, hey, this is my mom." She pointed to a woman lounging in the doorframe. 

"Hi," I tried to smile, but I wasn't sure I managed it too well. "I'm sorry about intruding like this, I hope it's okay?"

The older woman stared at me for a moment appraisingly and I took the time to look back. She was a fortiesh version of her daughter, except the hair was brown not rainbow and she had a fuller figured like you'd expect, but she was still a babe, more so even, probably because the only jewelry she wore wasn't embedded in skin. Obviously, she hadn't been expecting company either, unless she generally entertained in a ratty old yellow bathrobe over purple sweats that looked like they belonged to a linebacker named Bubba. She didn't seem fazed though about the late night drop in and merely smiled and said, "I'm Vicki. Debbie says you two haven't eaten since noon."

"Druscilla!" Her daughter hissed.

Vicki raised an unringed eyebrow and glared back at her, "In this house your name is Deborah."

"Whatever!" And apparently feeling that was penultimate answer, Druscilla/Debbie shut up and slouched out of the room. A minute later, I heard MTV come on.

Vicki rolled her eyes and winked at me. "You married?" She shuffled over to the coffee maker and got it going.

"No," I said glumly. I barely heard her over the voice in my head screaming that I'd lost Amy. 

Because that's what had happened. It was over. Amy was gone. The words repeated again and again in my head. There was no point in hurrying home anymore, no point in trying to see her. Liam was free, even worse, he was needy. Amy was a sucker for needy. Even if she had been maybe considering giving up her obsession with him before, there was no way she'd turn her back on him now. There was also no reason to think he wouldn't take her up on any offer she made either. Definitely doable-remember.

Vicki was still talking. "Kids?"

I struggled to concentrate. "Like I said, I'm not married."

She laughed, "One does not necessarily follow the other."

I looked up at her grinning face then and did my best to smile back. After all, my mess wasn't her fault and she didn't even know about it. So I tried to listen as she chattered on about how how Debbie and her little brother, Jack, were driving her nuts, what with Debbie wanting to look like the next Queen of the Damned and Jack thinking that farting on demand was a talent he should acquire. All the while, she was rooting in the fridge, pulling out about twelve Tupperware containers, popping lids and sniffing. 

The last time I was in a kitchen had been with Amy when she'd served me waffles. I'd thought then that somehow I'd be able to repeat that scene with her, now it didn't look like that would ever happen.

"...the only thing I worry about is how much it's going to cost that girl for plastic surgery."

"I'm sorry?" I was lost again. 

I wasn't hungry anymore either. All I really wanted was to slide my way back to the motel and maybe think about crying myself to sleep, which I hadn't done since the last time I'd lost a little kitten called Peanut. Then I'd plotted vengeance on my sisters for taking her from me, but this time I wouldn't be able to do that. Liam was what Amy wanted and for her sake I'd have to pretend I was happy for her. 

Sometimes it sucks being a nice guy.

Vicki cocked her head. "Trouble in your love life?"

My mouth dropped open, "Uh..."

"Yeah, you have that look." Vicki slid something out of a plastic dish into a baking pan then popped it in the oven and poured both of us a mug of coffee. She walked over and slid a cup in front of me, then turned and went back to the fridge for the half and half. She came over and sat down then. "Sugar's on the table in front of you," she pointed. "Is she cheating on you?"

I thought about that, "It's not that simple."

We sat there in silence for a minute. The buzzer went off from the oven and Vicki got up, pulled out a dish and stirred it, then she reset the timer and sat back down. She looked down at her coffee and murmured, "I'm a good listener."

I almost shook my head no, but there was something about this woman that told me she was telling the truth. It also occurred to me that ever since this whole thing began, I hadn't talked about it to anyone else. Oh sure, there was James, but that wasn't me explaining, that was him seeing and besides, he'd been the one to do the talking. I suddenly wanted to tell Vicki about Amy, all of it. 

So I did.

I was right; she hadn't been lying. She sat there quietly when I told her about meeting Amy, rolled her eyes when I told her about cannelloni night, won my undying affection when she muttered What a jerk when I explained about how Liam treated Amy and laughed out loud at the trip to the mall. Her face softened as I haltingly gave her the (very) abridged version of dinner and a movie, but when I got to the last couple of weeks, she laid a hand on my arm and squeezed it tightly. In other words, Vicki was a born mom.

When I finally finished with tonight's enlightening conversation with Miriam, Vicki stood and went over to the stove. She rustled around a bit with some bowls she'd heated in the microwave and then came back with a plate heaped with corn and potatoes and pork roast with gravy. It looked wonderful and I thanked her, but I doubted if I could swallow any of it. Vicki sat back down and looked at me.

"You're a college graduate, right?"

I didn't know where the hell that came from, but I nodded yes.

"And you're what, mid-twenties?"

Again, I just nodded agreement, but I thought she could at least have said something sympathetic instead of changing the subject.

"Have a pretty good job..."

Oh, I got it. This was the start of the pep talk. The one about how I'm young and have a great future ahead of me and this too shall pass.

"Then how come you're such a dumbshit?"

Okay, maybe not.

"Men!" She stood and started to pace. "What is it with you guys? I mean, how the hell did you ever end up in charge of the world? Sure, there's the upper body strength issue so you could hunt and of course no breast feeding thing going on to tie you down, but dumb, god!"

"Um, do you have a point here or this just a feminist moment?" Yeah, I was a little testy. 

"The point is, what the hell are you doing in my kitchen staring at day old pork roast when you should be on a plane to Chicago?"

"I told you," I stabbed a piece of the meat and pretended it was Liam's heart-if he had one. "It's too late."

Vicki rolled her eyes, "Charlie, get your butt out of that chair and get going." She leaned forward. 

"I, I..." I made the token protest, but I knew that tone of voice from my own mother and I was already standing.

"Tell the girl you love her."

I did my dying guppy routine again with my mouth opening and closing. She didn't look like she was related to James, but obviously they were connected psychically or something.

"And don't you dare do it on the phone or by computer or fax or whatever the hell else way your thinking of to get out of actually doing it face to face. Go to her house, wake her up, drag her out of bed-out of that jerk's arms if you have to, but stand there and look at her and tell the girl you love her!"

I had to ask the question. "You think that will work?"

"I have no idea," Vicki's face was solemn, but her eyes were kind. "But I guarantee it's your only chance." She saw my expression and reached up to stroke my cheek. "See, the thing you haven't remembered is that Amy doesn't know how you feel. How can she make a choice if she doesn't know her options?"

"But she's always wanted Liam..."

"No," Vicki shook her head, "he's all she's ever had. There's a difference."

Either I was so tired I was delirious, or she was right. I decided to pick door number two. I grinned, "It's been a pleasure meeting you."

"Uh huh, now beat it."

I'm not usually a spontaneous hugger, but this time I made an exception. It probably wasn't one of my better decisions. Just as I got really arm lock on Vicki, I heard someone clearing a throat. A male throat. I let go and turned around to see the original owner of the purple sweats standing in the doorway. 

Holy shit was this guy big. Not only was he four or five inches taller than me, he must have outweighed me by about seventy-five pounds at least. It didn't help that his Carhart's were covered in snow giving him a real resemblance to Yeti or Sasquatch or Windigo, whatever the hell Minnesotans call the abominable snowman. No doubt this was Vicki's husband and Drucilla's (Oops, in this house, Deborah.) dad. And he'd just walked in on me, a barefoot stranger, hugging his wife. I dropped my arms and stepped back like Vicki had just told me she had bubonic plague.

"Hey Sparky, you trying to tell me something here?" the behemoth spoke in a deceptively mild voice, but the blank expression on his face was a lot less than reassuring.

Vicki didn't seem to be afraid however, she laughed and sauntered up to him, "Ooh, I love it when you're territorial." 

"Then you should be thrilled right about now," he informed her.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. She didn't come up to his armpits. He practically had to kneel to kiss her, but she helped him by throwing her arms around his massive neck and letting him lift her off the ground. 

"Charlie," Vicki giggled again, then swiveled her head, her legs still swinging in the air, "this is my husband, Mark."

"Hi, nice to meet you." When I get nervous, my voice doesn't squeak, instead it drops like having a bass is equal to a black belt or something. At that moment, I sounded a lot like James Earl Jones in Star Wars. 

"Uh huh," he grunted then put his wife down. 

Vicki glared, "Okay big guy, you scared him enough. Quit with the caveman impression. Charlie is the guy Debbie worked with today, both of them were hungry so she brought him to me for a little home cooking."

"And he was just thanking you, right?" But I could see, he was starting to relax and my adrenaline levels went down to the simmer stage. 

She shrugged, "Something like that." She looked at my plate with the fork stuck in the pork where I'd tried to rekill it. "You hungry?"

He nodded then looked at me. "Wasn't this for you?"

I started to answer, but Vicki cut in. "Actually, Charlie has to go catch a plane."

Mark shook his head as he sat down and dug into the mashed potatoes, taking a bite the size of a large snowball and shoving it in his mouth. "Gna shwe msiit." Vicki and I stared at him until he swallowed. "I mean, not tonight. Not unless he can get there in the next fifteen minutes at any rate."

"What?" I croaked. 

He deliberately took another bite, this time of pork and chewed it fifty times, just like his mom had told him was good for him. "I was just there. They're were shutting down the airport after the 12:15 got off, it's getting too bad to keep up the runways. That's why I'm home."

I slumped. Like I said, this is the way my life works.

Vicki however, was not so fatalistic. She grabbed my old plate just as Mark was about to shovel in some corn and stared hard at him. "You better get moving then."

"Huh?" His fork was still in midair.

"Go, now. Take Charlie in your truck. You can get there faster than he can."

"Babe?!" Suddenly big Mark was reduced to a whining seven year old. "I'm hungry and tired."

"You'll live," she was relentless, "He needs to leave tonight."

"Vicki," I stepped in hesitantly. Mark had seemed to realize I was no threat, but now I realized who was the really dangerous one in the family and I didn't want to piss her off. "I appreciate your concern, but there's no way..."

"Bullshit. I'll call the airport and tell them you're on your way. Dying mother maybe, I'll think of something."

"But the motel, the rental..." I protested and noticed Mark nodding his head in agreement. Suddenly we were buds against the forces of feminine determination. Course both of us already knew we weren't going to win, but it's nice to have companionship in the face of defeat.

"I'll ship your clothes and Mark can drop off the car tomorrow."

And that was that. Mark groaned and I sighed, and the next thing I knew I was putting on my half dried socks and totally soaked shoes. Vicki yelled at Debbie to come back to say goodbye and the last thing I saw of either of them was Debbie scarfing down the last of the potatoes on her dad's-my-plate.

We drove out of the development in silence. As we turned out onto the highway where my motel was, I cleared my throat.

"You know, thanks and all, but you don't have to do this."

"Yeah, right."

"No, really. Just take me to the motel and drop me off. We can say we didn't make it in time and the plane took off without waiting."

Mark turned and stared at me like I'd lost my mind, "Do you honestly believe that Vicki would buy that?"

He had a point.

"Besides," he went on grimly, "the airport manager is her old high school boyfriend. I stole her from him. Not only does he still have a thing for her, but he hates me and would do anything to make himself look good to her, particularly if it meant I'd have to suffer too. He'll stop the plane if he has to lay in front of it on the tarmac to do it." That seemed like a pretty long time to hold a grudge to me and I guess my expression showed it. "After they broke up he went on the rebound and slept with Rhonda Olson. Knocked her up; they had to get married if he didn't want her old man's shotgun up his ass. Now she's almost bald and weighs 300 pounds."

"Oh."

"They have five kids. All of them look like Rhonda."

"That's really too bad." Hell, what was I supposed to say?

Mark grinned, "Yeah." 

I grinned back.

He slid around a corner and after narrowly missing a line of mailboxes looked over at me. "So what's the rush?"

"Huh?"

"Why the big hurry to get out of here? Don't like my town?" The way he said it told me to agree with him wouldn't be exactly smart.

"No, that's not it. I'm going home to..." Shit, I didn't want to tell him this.

"It's a girl isn't it?"

I stared at him in shock. Was I that transparent?

He laughed and answered the question like I'd asked it out loud. "Nah, I just know my wife. She loves messing in that shit. A born yetyl."

I opened my mouth to tell him the word was yenta, but thought better of it. "She says I need to talk to Amy. That's her name, Amy."

"Got it." He fiddled with the radio until some country and western angst came on. "Well she's probably right. Like I said, Vicki's real good at fixing people's love life." 

"Yeah, she told me..."

He put up a hand like he was warding off evil and almost drove us off the road. Obviously, he didn't take the same interest in matchmaking that his wife did. When he got back to something that was probably pavement he shut up. I could take a hint and did the same. 

The whomp, whomp of the windshield wipers started to hypnotize me and the next I knew, we were stopped and the door on my side opened to blow in a freezing gust of wind and about two feet of snow from a nearby drift. 

"Get out," was Mark's only comment.

I did, shivering in my newly saturated socks. 

"You have money for the ticket?"

I nodded. Looked like our male bonding experience was over.

"'k, see ya." Mark crawled back into the cab of his 2-ton and left my ass in a swirl of drifting snow.

I trudged into the airport and found that while the exflame hadn't exactly thrown himself in front of the wheels of the plane, he had managed to do what Mark had said he would-kept it from leaving. He was waiting for me in front of the ticket counter of the 'Blue Goose'. 

"You Charlie?" He coughed and rubbed his hands together like he was cold though he looked cozy enough to me. Least he hadn't been trudging around in snow up to his ass with only a pair of Nike's and a windbreaker between him and Mother Nature. 

I nodded and he pointed to the ticket counter where a sleepy girl in a uniform that looked like she'd been sleeping in it slouched over a computer. She asked for my ID and thirty seconds later handed me a ticket. I looked at it.

"Uh, there's a mistake," I flashed the thing back at her. "It says it's a one-way to Bloomington-Normal."

"Yeah that's right," she yawned.

"I want to go to Chicago."

"Right, hope ya get there," she didn't sound very sincere.

"But..."

"Look," the airport manager stepped up behind me. "This is the only plane out of here. The next flight to Chi-Town aint until 10AM tomorrow. You wanna wait, be my guest, but I gotta tell ya the weather report says this storm is here for the next forty-eight hours at least, so's if ya wanna get outta here, I suggest you shut up and take this flight."