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Paddling Upstream

By Strickland83

It was subtle. I would probably have missed it if I hadn�t looked for it. Lindsey hesitated just an instant before going through the door of the plane. We had both been through a lot and I would try to remember that.

Ask anyone who lives where we were rescued and they would be quick to tell you that you can�t fly to anywhere from there without going somewhere else first. In our case, we had to go back to Atlanta to get on another flight to New York. We finally make it into JFK around seven on Sunday night, tired and anxious to get some sleep in a real bed. On the plane, Lindsey fell asleep right after takeoff. George tried to keep me up talking about schedule changes, but he could see how tired I was and he let me doze off.

I suppose no one was expecting us to return to Atlanta, but that was not the case in New York. Television crews met our flight. Once again, I had to face them. George did a good job of dealing with the media, but I still had to answer a few questions before our impromptu news conference ended. One thing I liked seeing was the interest the reporters took in Lindsey. I was proud to show off my fianc�e and it was nice seeing her get some publicity. I didn�t want this to be just about me.

As we walked to baggage claim, George was talking about how he couldn�t buy publicity this good.

"You will be on the news, in magazines; everyone is going to be hearing about you. This primes the public for your appearances."

He had a driver waiting for us, and a limousine. He also had my name on the sign, first and last. That was attracting attention. This time it wasn�t reporters. It was fans. This was my first real public encounter with fans and I have to admit that I enjoyed it. These were people who had enjoyed reading my books, people who wanted to know who I was.

A crowd was standing around the driver, pointing to the sign with my name on it (well, my pen name) and talking. Because my picture was just starting to appear, not many recognized me when I walked up. When George approached the driver, at first they thought he was me. He, of course, corrected that right away.

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present Mr. Ken Stryker," he announced.

I felt myself blush, and more so when they actually applauded. These people were not pointing television cameras at me. They were pushing pens and paper at me, wanting my autograph. A few even wanted to take my picture.

As I worked the small crowd, I kept maneuvering to keep Lindsey at my side. One woman noticed that and asked who she was. When I introduced Lindsey as my wife to be, there was a flurry of picture taking of the two of us.

I didn�t understand at first why George pulled us away from the growing crowd. He cleared up the confusion as he announced, "Sorry, folks. Mr. Stryker has appointments to keep. He is running behind because of the plane crash. You can watch him tomorrow night on The Late Show with David Letterman, and see him again all week at bookstores around New York."

I felt like a thing when he said that, but I was having too much fun greeting my fans to have a problem with it. George guided us to the open door of the limousine, leaving the crowd behind us.

"Was that fun or what?" George asked excitedly as the door closed.

I grinned.

"I thought so. Get used to it. You�re going to be doing that all week."

"You mean until Wednesday, right?" Lindsey asked.

George looked right at me. "Michael, we lost a day because of the crash. I really need you to stay through Saturday morning. How about it?"

"We are having Thanksgiving dinner with Lindsey�s family. We have to fly back on Wednesday," I said.

"But Friday is the biggest shopping day of the year. Celebrate Thanksgiving here," he urged.

I didn�t even look at Lindsey, keeping my gaze on George.

"No, George, this trip is about Ken Stryker, but I still have to think about Lindsey, too."

I was about to protest further when I felt Lindsey�s touch on my forearm.

I turned to see her gentle features looking deeply into my eyes.

"George is right, you know. This week is about your career. Let�s do Thanksgiving here."

"But your family? This is the first holiday after�"

"Grandpa," she finished for me. "Yes, I know. We will be home for Christmas. It could be fun having a few more days in New York. Let�s do it."

"Are you sure about this, honey?" I asked her.

She nodded and smiled softly.

I drew in a deep breath, then put my hand over hers as I turned to George to say, "Okay. We�re staying for the week."

He smiled and pulled out his cell phone. While he made calls and did his agent stuff, Lindsey and I watched the city go by through the heavily tinted windows of the limousine. Unlike me, she had never been there before. As we drove up Broadway, she was excitedly pointing out the famous sights she recognized from television and movies. The driver pulled up to the door of the Novotel, struggling to get close with the throng of news crews milling about.

"Here we go again," I sighed.

"Stop! You know you�re enjoying this," Lindsey said with a grin.

"Well, maybe," I said as I grinned back.

When the driver opened the door and I stepped out, lights came on as I was recognized. This time, I pulled Lindsey to my side and introduced her. We answered a few questions and George finished up by naming the bookstores where I would be doing book signings. Then we escaped to the elevator and rode up to the lobby.

As soon as we got to our room, Lindsey and I took a shower together. George, always there taking care of me, had called ahead and arranged for the hotel staff to get some clothes for us. It was nothing special, jeans and sweatshirts, but they were clean clothes. We were going shopping after dinner for more things.

"Ah, that feels good," I told Lindsey when I got under the water in the shower.

"Mmm, yes it does," she said as she stood behind me and reached to run her hands over my chest. "Very good."

"Keep that up and we will just stay here."

"I think we need to go shopping. You can�t show up at the Letterman show in blue jeans."

"Why not? I will just tell Dave that I was too busy celebrating being alive with my fianc�e to shop for clothes."

"You better not!" she said, pulling me out of the way so she could get under the water.

That first night in the city we had dinner with George. The view from the table was the big NBC video screen over Times Square. After dinner, we went shopping. The great thing about New York was how you could buy practically anything twenty-four hours a day. In a few hours, Lindsey and I had enough clothes to get by in the city.

That night when we got to bed, we were tired. Too tired to make love, but not to tired to hold onto each other naked between the sheets. We talked a little, mostly about how lucky we were to have survived. Before long, though, we both fell fast asleep.

Monday morning, we woke fully rested and made up for the night before. We made love with a vengeance to reassert life. I felt like I was proving to myself that I was still alive. We missed breakfast and George never called. He was purposely leaving us alone.

We did some sight seeing after lunch, but we were back at the hotel by four o�clock. The Late Show taping started at 5:30 in the next block and I was getting nervous. This was the first time I would really face the public. George had set it up the day before my first book signing to help me get ready to meet my fans face to face.

When we were ready, I called George�s room and he showed up at our door at once. It was time to leave, to arrive as Ken Stryker.

"Ready?" George asked me.

Lindsey looked up to me.

I thought about that a moment. I didn�t really see a way to back out. It was time, whether I was ready or not. I felt the tension growing in the bottom of my stomach. I nodded.

"Good. Let�s go. The limo is waiting."

"Limo?" I asked. "The theater is right down the street. We can walk there."

"Michael, Michael, you cannot arrive for an interview on foot. Trust me on this. Besides, you don�t just walk in the front door. Guests arrive at the back of the theater. You arrive at the back of the theater, at the performers� entrance."

"Listen to him, darling. He knows this game."

I gave some thought to what Lindsey said and nodded. I waved for George to lead the way. This time, there was no media in the lobby, or even at the theater. A man wearing a headset greeted us at the door. He introduced himself as Phil and showed us to a room where a buffet was being served. The food smelled very good, but I was too nervous to eat. George and Lindsey weren�t going to be on stage so they had no problems. Phil, who seemed to be assigned to me, told me that I might feel more like eating later.

On the walls of the room were white boards with the schedule of the show. Phil pointed out that I was going to be the last guest of the night. Originally I had been scheduled to be one of the first, but after the plane crash I was the big draw. I would be used to keep the television audience tuned in until the end. I felt a little like a commodity, but I guess that is what television is all about. While we were there, David Letterman stopped in to meet us. He greeted Lindsey with obvious interest and talked to the three of us for a few minutes.

About a half hour before the taping began, Phil left with Lindsey and George to take them to their seats in the audience. He returned shortly and asked again if I wanted to eat. I still wasn�t hungry so he took me to the green room to wait. The other guests were already there, sitting on sofas and talking or watching monitors. A comedian was finishing up warming up the audience. Then David came out to talk to the audience. Finally, it was time to tape the show.

The announcer made his introduction and Dave came onstage again, this time for real. I settled in to watch the show. While we watched, we talked among ourselves. The other guests were interested in how I had survived the plane crash. I felt more relaxed because no one was asking about my books.

One by one, the others were taken to the set. I managed to catch a glimpse of Lindsey in a few of the audience shots. The time actually passed quickly and I was the only person left in the room. Phil came back to get me as the show went to a commercial.

"Dave will come out to meet you. Walk to the first chair next to his desk and take a seat. Do you need to go to the restroom or get something to drink first?"

"No, I�m fine. Let�s go."

We walked down a hall and waited behind a curtain. From the other side of the curtain, I heard Dave talking about me.

"Our next guest almost missed tonight�s show. He is the author Ken Stryker who has only recently decided to come out of seclusion. I am honored that he chose my show to make his debut. He almost cancelled because his plane crashed on the way here."

I heard the audience laugh.

"No, really, his plane went down in the mountains Saturday and he spent a night on a North Carolina mountaintop waiting to be rescued."

I could hear his voice getting louder and Phil nudged me to the opening in the curtain. I stepped through as I heard Dave saying, "Join me in welcoming Ken Stryker."

I stepped onto the stage to applause and it felt really good. These people were glad to see me. Dave shook my hand and as we walked to our seats, I looked at the audience. Lindsey was beaming and George was giving me a friendly nod.

"Now, Ken, that�s not your real name, is it?"

"No, Dave, that is my pen name," I said. "Back home I�m known as Michael Newcombe."

"What made you decide to come out publicly and let your fans know who you are?"

"I credit my fianc�e with that. Lindsey asked me to talk to her students about writing and it just kind of happened. I never thought it would be such a big deal, but my fans apparently really wanted to meet me."

"Your fianc�e is here tonight, isn�t she?" he asked.

"Yes, she is right there," I said as I leaned forward in the chair and pointed. I could see on the monitor that the camera zoomed in on Lindsey�s face. To her credit, she just smiled without looking embarrassed. I knew she could see on the audience monitors that she was on camera.

"Was she on the plane with you?"

"Yes, we were on the flight together."

"Did you ever feel that someone was trying to tell you something?" Dave asked and the audience laughed.

"I am here, aren�t I?" I answered, getting more laughter. "I wanted to make these appearances. I wanted to give my fans a chance to meet me, so here I am."

The audience liked my answer.

Dave asked about what it was like on the plane in the final moments, and about what we went through waiting to be rescued. I remembered to thank the flight crew.

After that, we talked about my books. I was surprised that he spent so much time talking about my books. Dave finally asked me about Theresa. I was expecting him to bring it up. I talked about her, about how she had inspired me to start writing and had been such a support. I shed a few tears when I told how I had lost her to cancer but I talked about how Amanda had gotten me through that time and how Lindsey had pulled me from the depths of despair. She had shown me how to live again.

The show ended and it was over. I breathed a loud sigh of relief.

"It wasn�t really that bad, was it?" Dave asked with a chuckle.

"Yes, it was," I said, but I disarmed the comment with a laugh of my own.

George and Lindsey came up, Lindsey giving me a kiss on the cheek. We left the theater and George took us out to dinner. I thought it was a social event. George quickly explained that it was much more than that. He was making sure I was seen, but he did make sure we would be where we could watch the broadcast of The Late Show. We watched it in a nice bar where I would be recognized. I didn�t feel comfortable about that. I was hoping to watch it back in the room with Lindsey, but I was learning to accept George�s way of handling me. He had our best interests at heart. When I showed up on the television, people were quick to recognize me.

"Get used to it, Michael. Tomorrow will be all about meeting your fans."

He was right. I had made the decision to come out of hiding and into the spotlight of publicity. There was no turning back.

That night, in bed, I lay in the dark looking up at the ceiling. Lindsey was at my side, her naked body partly wrapped around me. I could feel the wetness between her legs leaking onto my leg. I knew that wetness was because of me, but I was not thinking about sex or even love. I was thinking about the morning and what it would bring.

My first appearance the next day was at a smaller bookstore by design. It had less traffic so I would not be overwhelmed. We arrived at the first bookstore about nine o�clock. George led the way to the counter and asked to speak to the manager. While we waited, I spotted a nice table and chair off to the side. Next to it was a sign with my name and a picture of my book on it. I groaned and Lindsey looked at me to see what was wrong.

"What is it? Oh." She touched me on the arm. "Well, they want your fans to be able to find you."

"But it looks like a throne," I lamented.

"Good," George said with a smile. "They are presenting my best client in a very good light."

I started to say something back to George but stopped myself. I was doing this for my fans.

The manager showed up and, when George told him who we were, he practically fell all over himself. It made me feel very uncomfortable.

"Look," I told him, "I am just a person, like you. I only want to meet some of my fans and sign some books. Can we get this started?"

"Oh, yes, yes, sir. Of course."

"And please don�t call me sir. My name is Michael."

"Yes, � yes, Michael. Please make yourself comfortable."

As I was taking my seat, and feeling like a reluctant king taking his throne, the manager�s voice came over the loudspeaker.

"Attention, shoppers. Mr. Ken Stryker is now signing his books in the romance section."

I heard footsteps approaching. Lindsey jumped at the sound. It was like I was about to be pounced upon. People approached, and not only women, and formed a line which quickly grew in length. I was shocked that so many people wanted to meet me.

Lindsey bent down and whispered in my ear, "They love you, Michael. Remember that." And then she was gone, off to browse in the store, and leaving me alone with my public. George was also watching from a distance. I felt like raw meat thrown to hungry animals.

"Hello," I told the first eager woman in line. "Did you enjoy my book?" I looked at the cover, one of my earlier ones. The main character was inspired by Theresa, at an age when I had first met her.

"Yes, sir, it was wonderful. I�ve read all your books."

I held up my hand to stop her. "Please, call me Michael." She looked confused. "Okay, then Ken."

She smiled at that and hesitantly said, "Yes, Ken."

She gave a little laugh and blushed, then added, "I saw you on Letterman last night. You�re much more handsome in person."

It was my turn to blush. I looked up and saw Lindsey nearby. She was looking at me over an open book and grinning. How I wanted to trade places with her at that moment.

"I have to tell you that I have never really done this kind of thing before. Uhm, what is your name?"

"Elizabeth," she said.

"And what do you like about my writing, Elizabeth?"

The look on her face showed how she was still in awe of me but she was relaxing somewhat.

"You make everything seem so real. Like, I don�t know, like it�s all real. Like word pictures, I guess."

I thought about that a moment and then took the book from her. Opening it to the first blank page, I wrote Elizabeth, words are just scribblings. Capturing the heart and the soul of the reader is the real challenge. Thanks for reading. Ken Stryker.

I smiled at what I had just written, closed the book and handed it back to Elizabeth. She took it from my hands reverently and stepped aside as she opened it to see what I had written. I was just about to greet the next person in line when she spoke.

"Oh, thank you. That is beautiful."

She gave me a look that told me I had captured hers. Then she was gone. Next was a dancer named Debbie. We chatted briefly and I wrote in her book Debbie, Come dance with me in a world of fantasy. Ken Stryker. After her, I really don�t remember each person. There were so many.

Lindsey told me later that she had fun watching me. She said the look of enjoyment on my face was a wonder to watch. I guess I believed her because I sure had fun. George was standing by to lend a hand but he didn�t have to do a thing. Well, he did do one thing. He leaned over and urged me to hurry because I was running out of time. I managed to greet each person in line before we had to leave for the next store. The time had flown by.

In the car, we ate a quick lunch while we talked about how it had gone.

"You are doing great, Michael," George told me.

"Do you think so?" I asked. "I had fun."

"Michael, those people loved you. You made each one seem so important. I wish you could have seen them as they left. You touched each person," Lindsey gushed.

"This pastrami is wonderful."

George made sure I looked alright before we arrived at the next store. This was a big one, and the crowd was already there waiting for me. When I walked through the door, I was greeted by applause.

This store had setup my table at the front of the store in front of a window. They were using me as a draw, a window display. This time, I had even more fun.

I tried to fit every inscription to each person. It flowed. I was surprised that I was able to come up with each one so quickly. A minute or so talking to the person and I just knew what to write. I never felt such a connection to my readers before. I knew before that they were out there; I just never made contact with them.

From time to time, I would look up from the book I was signing and catch a glimpse of Lindsey watching me. She would have an impish, or sometimes a concerned, look on her lovely face. I enjoyed seeing how she was trying to watch me without the other people being aware of it. A few times she smiled when she saw I caught her looking.

George worked the crowd, encouraging them or leaking tidbits of my next novel, or talking with the store employees, always promoting me. When it was finally time to go, or rather when we finally left because I stayed a few hours later than planned, Lindsey took me by the arm. I knew what she was up to. She took me by the arm and walked out with me, in front of the last few women who had their books signed. She wanted them to know that they got to visit with me but I was going home with her.

"I am starving. What are the plans for dinner, George?" Lindsey asked after the door was closed and the three of us were alone in the car.

"After a day like this, anywhere you want to go." Then, turning to me, "Michael, do you have any idea how much today impacted sales?"

"How many books did we sell? It wasn�t that many, was it?"

George and Lindsey both chuckled at my questions.

"My good friend, you have been signing books for over ten hours." I started to break in but he raised a hand to stop me. "Each of those people is going to tell their friends about you, and probably lead to ten more sales. Do the math, Michael. It only grows from here. You really need to think about doing a book signing tour."

I thought about what he said. Not the tour, because I was not ready to be away from Lindsey that long. I was thinking about how the signings multiplied new sales.

"I never thought about it that way. This is about more than just giving a few fans the chance to meet me, isn�t it?"

"Yes," George said, and he stopped there to let his answer sink in.

I sat back against the seat, between Lindsey and George, and thought that over while they agreed on where to have dinner. I tuned them out, thinking instead about my fans. I had met people from all walks of life with one thing in common�they all enjoyed reading my books. My books.

I guess I never felt like a really successful and well-known writer until that moment. It was a heady feeling, knowing that all those people each carried home a treasured possession. Each one carried home a book that I had signed. A book made more valuable to them because of the personalized message I had written inside it. Each person had touched me like I had been touching their lives for so long.

"Is that okay with you, honey?" Lindsey was asking.

"Yes, yes, that sounds wonderful," I answered, not knowing what I had just agreed to. I was still lost in that other place.

The car stopped and I leaned forward to get out.

"No, not here. This evening is for you. I will see you two at breakfast. Remember the talk show tomorrow morning. You need to be down at breakfast by 7:30 so we can get to the studio. Have a wonderful evening," George said as he got out. After the driver shut the door and while he was walking back around to the front, I asked Lindsey what was going on.

"Didn�t you hear anything we said?"

"No, I guess not. What are we doing?"

"You and I are going out to dinner. Then I am," and she lowered her voice as the driver opened his door. She put her arms around my neck and placed her mouth next to my ear. She continued in a whisper that I alone could hear. "Then I am going to take you back to the hotel where I am going to show you how much I love you."

"Really?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, really. I watched those other women fawn over you all day. Tonight, you are all mine. Their husbands and boyfriends will get the benefit of their encounter with you tonight. You, on the other hand�"

"It is always the other hand, isn�t it?" I tried to tease.

"You, on the other hand," she continued with emphasis, "will get the benefit of my jealousy watching them fawn over you."

"You were jealous? I�m sorry, darling."

"Don�t be. When I get you to bed, I am going to make sure that you do not forget who you belong to."

I looked questioningly at her.

"Yes, oh yes, it is going to be quite a night, my Michael."

We rode in silence as I pondered her words.

Dinner was very nice, but it was certainly not the main event. When we were back in the room and the door closed, Lindsey went over to one of the new suitcases and dug around. Without turning around, she tossed a pair of boxer shorts towards me.

"Put that on and get comfortable. I�ll be out in a few minutes," she said, promise coloring her voice.

She headed into the bathroom carrying a folded paper bag from a clothing store. I undressed and put on the boxer shorts, anticipation causing my cock to tent what little I was wearing. I turned down the lights and the bedcovers, and waited on the bed. While I waited, I thought about how Lindsey had changed my life, about how she had shown me how to live again.

The sound of the bathroom door opening interrupted my thoughts. I looked up to see her smiling seductively at me. She was wearing a short white nightie, skimpy panties that clearly revealed the outline of her bush, and a white headband. The nightie and headband were outlined in gold sequins. When she spoke, it was a whisper.

"I was going to save this for when we got home," she said, starting to slowly walk towards the bed. "I wanted to be your Roman slave girl, but I needed something special for tonight."

I raised an eyebrow in question.

"I watched all those women fawning over you today and it made me a little jealous."

I tried to apologize again but she stopped me.

"Don�t worry. This is a good kind of jealous, like I said before. I don�t mind telling you that I got wet watching you." At the surprise on my face, she continued with, "Yes, quite wet. I was thinking about how you must be making those women feel when they met you in person. I remember how I felt when I met you, and I didn�t have the benefit of knowing I was meeting my favorite writer. You have quite an effect on women, you know."

She had reached the bed. She crawled onto the mattress next to me, sitting on her knees and showing no intent of turning off the lights.

"I knew those women were going to have to settle for their husbands or their boyfriends tonight. I, alone, would get to take you to bed. I think many of them will be fantasizing about being with Ken Stryker tonight. I don�t have to fantasize about it. Instead, I get to be your fantasy girl."

"Oh, Lindsey, you are all that and so much more."

She blushed a little at my words.

"Tonight I want to make you feel like you make me feel. Every time I�m with you is living out a fantasy. I never thought I would find someone like you. When I did, for the first time I had to work for it. You wanted to be my friend and nothing more. It wasn�t enough for me to decide the time was right to take our relationship to the sexual level. I had to entice you, to work for you, to capture your heart. And when I did, oh, wow." She drew in a deep breath that made her breasts visibly rise. The movement made me look down and I noticed that her nipples were even more pronounced than before. "I don�t want to ever forget how lucky I am to be the woman Ken Stryker makes love to. You give fantasies to thousands of women. I am the only woman who gets to give a fantasy to you, and I want to take that privilege very seriously."

She was now leaning over, in my face. I could feel her warm breath as she spoke each word. I saw her swallow, her delicate throat moving in the process, and she brushed a light kiss against my lips. It was like the touch of a butterfly. Surprised that the kiss was over so soon, I opened my eyes, only to gasp as she planted more of the kisses on my chin, my throat, and down my chest. She was leaving a trail of kisses as she headed south, a tiny wet mark from each kiss forming a trail.

She moved until she was lying between my legs as she reached the waistband of my silk boxers.

"I bought these in red because I was going to give them to you for Valentine�s Day. I think, instead, I will make tonight Valentine�s Day."

Without another word but with her eyes locked to mine, she leaned over me and opened her mouth. She delicately gripped the waistband between her teeth and pulled. My erection worked free and pressed against her face. She moaned softly at the contact but didn�t release the waistband. With help from her hands, she worked my remaining garment off my body. At my feet, she slipped off the end of the bed and stood with my boxer shorts still hanging from her mouth. She opened her mouth slowly, letting the silk fall free and flutter to the floor, and she returned to her position between my legs.

"When a woman gives a man a blowjob, it can be something she does to give him pleasure. Having his dick sucked is a pleasure every man loves. When the woman loves the man as much as I love you, it can be so much more. It can be more like an act of worship."

She studied my erection up close, turning her head to one side. Her tongue extended and met the slit on the tip of my cock with the lightest possible contact and she licked off the drop of precum. As her mouth moved back, a spider web slim strand drew out, connecting her mouth to my dick. The strand snapped as she smiled at me.

She returned, this time planting a kiss on the crown, opening her lips slightly and letting me feel the heat and wetness of her tongue. Her mouth left me again but when it returned a moment later, her eyes were closed. She took the head into her mouth and drew in a deep breath through her nose. The sound let me know how much she was enjoying the sensation of having me in her mouth. I felt suction from her mouth and her head moved down at the same time, my cock drawn into her. She moaned in pleasure, the vibration causing a thrill to run through me.

Her tongue moved, slowly at first, to stimulate me. It was like I was in her pussy, but so much more. Her mouth could do things to me that her pussy could not. True, I could not hold her close like when we had sex, but the intimate connection we were feeling was in some ways even better.

She opened her eyes and made contact with mine. She moved her head up and down slowly, letting me savor the feeling of sliding in and out of her. I knew this could not go on for long and I knew she didn�t care. When the first spasm hit my cock, I felt her mouth tighten its grip on me and she moaned again. It was like she was smiling with just her eyes, her mouth drawn into a large circle by my girth. I came and I felt her swallowing, still smiling with her eyes. By the look of things, she was enjoying this as much as I was.

When I had finished, and she had sucked off anything remaining, she crawled up next to me and put her arms around my neck. She didn�t kiss me right away but I could smell my cum on her breath.

She was lying next to me, not looking into my eyes, but with her face against my chest as if inhaling the scent of me. The first words she spoke were, "I love you."

"I love you, too," I told her, and meant every word.

"I know that."

She lifted one leg and ran it along mine. The touch of her smooth leg against my hairy one was heavenly. One of her hands ran over my chest. I felt her swallow and then she kissed me on the cheek.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Thank you? I should be thanking you. You just gave me�"

"Yes, thank you. For letting me do that to you, for letting me be the woman with you, here, tonight. You have no idea how privileged I feel to be your fianc�e."

"Lindsey, you have it all wrong. You saved me; you gave me life again. You could have had anyone and you chose me to be with. I am so grateful."

"You still don�t get it. When we got here, when we made love after being rescued, we were celebrating being alive. Today, seeing all those woman wanting you�"

"They just wanted my autograph," I corrected.

I could feel Lindsey shaking her head.

"No, if you could have seen what I saw, from where I was, those women wanted you, Michael. They did. To them you are so hot, so desirable. I always knew what I had was special, but seeing those others wanting it, too, and knowing it was still mine� Well, it made me feel so good to walk out of that store on your arm while they just watched� mmm, it made me feel so good. I want you to know how I feel." She shifted so she was on top of me and I could see her face. "I want you to feel as good as I do."

She lay down on top of me, her face alongside mine, and we were quiet for a long time, each lost in our own thoughts. My thoughts drifted and I couldn�t help it. I started to sob. Lindsey suddenly lifted her head and looked at me.

"Michael? What�s wrong? You�re crying, aren�t you? What is it? Is it something I said?"

I shook my head, unable to speak at first.

"Darling, what did I do?"

"No," I finally got out over the sobs. "Nothing you did. I was just thinking�" and I pulled her to me, felt her body touching mine. "It�s just that� when I lost Theresa, I really thought my life was over. Without her, I could not see ever being happy again. Then you came into my life. You have shown me how to be happy all over again, and so much more."

"That�s so sweet."

"And then I took you on that damn plane and almost got you killed," I said and started crying harder.

"Shh, don�t. You did not almost get me killed. I was where I wanted to be, with you. Do you want to know what I was thinking about right before we crashed?"

I looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

"I was praying, to Grandpa. I was telling him that if one of us had to die, to let it be me. You had so much to do, to get to New York and meet your readers. Your life affects so many people."

"Lindsey, your life affects so many more people. Your students need you, the town needs you."

"Before we get into an argument over who is needed more, let�s just agree that we were each willing to sacrifice ourselves for the other, okay?"

I smiled and nodded sheepishly.

"Then I got to watch people adoring the man I love. You made me feel so special because I am important to you. Because you chose me. I did this to give something back to you."

"You give back to me every day. Your love, your attention, your caring," I said as I ran my hands down her back. "Your body," I said as my hands ran over her soft bottom and she giggled, "each is a gift I will always treasure."

She didn�t answer. I saw the tiny sparkle of a tear in the corner of her eye, and then she kissed me. Slowly and passionately, she kissed me. After that we made love slowly. It was making love in every sense of the word. Each was making sure to seek the other�s pleasure. It was giving and receiving so lovingly. When I got up and turned out the light, I slipped back into bed at her side. As we lay there panting lightly in post-orgasmic bliss, everything felt so right with the world. The last thing I remember that night before drifting off to sleep was saying Thank you, Theresa, for sending me Lindsey.

Wednesday was more of the same. George had agreed to give us that night for just each other. Today was time for more publicity. We talked strategy over breakfast with George. First up was a television interview, then a radio interview followed by another book signing. Lindsey actually left me and did some shopping in other stores, having seen what she wanted to see the day before. I enjoyed getting to know my fans. George kept me moving along so everyone got a chance to meet me. After lunch, he had me signing books at two more bookstores, finishing up very late that night. We returned to the hotel and had dinner overlooking Times Square again.

"I�m going home tonight. I�ll be back tomorrow night so I can go with you Friday. It will be a busy day. It�s the busiest shopping day of the year and all the bookstores want you," he told me. Then, raising his hands to gesture, spreading his arms wide to encompass both of us, "But tomorrow is for the two of you. I pulled some strings and got you into a wonderful restaurant for Thanksgiving. Rest up and be ready to give it your all on Friday."

"So is that it? After Friday we can go home?"

"Well�, how about just one more store Saturday morning? Then you fly home in the afternoon and I won�t bother you again for a few weeks."

I grinned as I asked, "Promise?"

"You know me, Michael," he said.

"He�ll do it," Lindsey told George. "I will have him ready early Friday morning to meet more of his public." It seemed like she was beginning to enjoy seeing me in the limelight.

We had Thanksgiving Day to ourselves and we spent it seeing more of the city. I even was recognized by someone, an event Lindsey took delight in. George had arranged for us to have dinner at Daniel�s, a well-known French restaurant in the city where reservations normally take months to get. George must have called in some serious favors to get us in with such short notice. As we ate, one thought kept in the forefront of my mind. For months, I had been dreading the idea of the holidays without Theresa. Now, I had found a way to enjoy them again. I had found a way to live again�with Lindsey.

Lindsey had me up very early on Friday, in time to meet George for breakfast. From the big windows in the restaurant, we watched the city come to life. One minute, Broadway was deserted in the early morning. The next, workers filled the streets as they appeared from underground subway stations. In short order, George had me seated in yet another bookstore. This one had shorter lines (probably because people were out seeking bargains) but the line in front of my table remained all morning long. I recognized one woman from Wednesday�s signing and told her so. She blushed.

"I heard you were going to be here today and I wanted to meet you again. I�ve been reading your books since your first one. I was devastated when I heard about your wife, Mr. Stryker. Is it true you�re working on another book?"

"Yes, the new book should be coming out next summer."

"I will be looking for it. What are you calling it?"

"I haven�t come up with a title yet," I told her.

I signed her second copy of my last book and she was on her way, immediately replaced by the next woman in line.

By Friday evening, I was exhausted. George, however, had one more surprise up his sleeve. He had gotten tickets for Lindsey and me to see a play on Broadway.

"You can�t go to New York without seeing at least one show on Broadway," he told me as he handed over the tickets.

One last signing on Saturday morning, and we were off to the airport for the trip home. After the television appearance, the radio talk show, and all the book signings, I wasn�t all that surprised when the agent checking us in at the airport recognized me. I was learning to take my newfound celebrity in stride.

Once we were in the air, Lindsey looked at me quizzically when I blew out a sigh of relief.

"It�s over and I survived," I explained. Then, smiling, "All because you were there to help."

She kissed me. After the kiss, I opened my eyes to see one of the flight attendant patiently waiting to speak to us.

"Mr. Newcombe?" I nodded. She looked down and smiled shyly, then looked up and held out a book. "Would you mind signing your book for me?"

"Sure," I told her graciously.

I ended up signing four more autographs (on a cocktail napkin and three miscellaneous pieces of paper) before we were safely in my car for the drive home to Fournton. It felt so good when I walked into the house. The smell of home greeted me, that smell you get used to, the one you can�t find anywhere else. At the moment I smelled it, the realization hit me that I came close to never returning there. I looked to the lovely woman at my side and remembered I was lucky in more ways than one.

We visited Lindsey�s family on Sunday and it was back to school for her on Monday. She told me later that her students hit her with a barrage of questions about what it was like to be in a plane crash. She asked me why I was grinning while she told me that story.

"I am so glad someone is finally more interested in something about our trip besides me," I told her.

She punched me in the shoulder.

"Well, I am," I said.

"You did just fine dealing with being a celebrity." Then she thought a moment and added more quietly, "Thanks for keeping me out of the spotlight."

"Hey! What do you mean about that?"

"I don�t need the attention. My career is doing just fine. You are the one people want to see."

"I would really be happier if they were interested in meeting me just because I�m the one marrying the beautiful teacher."

Lindsey blushed. She started to protest, but then just said, "I�m really glad you believe that," and she kissed me.

"It�s not just me. Trust me."

Instead of protesting, she just said, "And I get to marry this hot, really handsome writer that all of America would love to get their hands on. The best part is that he is all mine."

With Christmas approaching, our wedding date was only six months away and we were making preparations. Actually, it was Lindsey doing most of that. I went along with what she wanted, only insisting on a few things I really wanted. One in particular came as the result of something that started happening right before Christmas.

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