Rendezvous

Rendezvous

Dusty Miller

This Smashwords edition copyright 2014
Dusty Miller and Long Cool One Books

Design: J. Thornton

ISBN 978-0-9918999-6-8

The following is a work of fiction. Any
resemblance to any person living or deceased, or to any places or
events, is purely coincidental. Names, places, settings, characters
and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. The
author’s moral right has been asserted.

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Table of Contents

Scene One

Scene Two

Scene Three

About the Author

Rendezvous

Dusty Miller

Scene One

Three weeks was a long time to wait.
Heather couldn’t stop thinking about Braden. The temptation to
whistle was a bit unusual, but she could suppress it. There was
much to consider, some of it serious. She could only get away from
the House so often. Too much and it would draw attention. Her body
was drenched in sweat from exertion. They played basketball once a
week. Fridays were the only thing she once had to look forward to,
but not anymore.

It was possible that Braden was lying
when he said that he had lived with a woman for a few years, and
that the relationship had been over for a while. That could be a
lie, or it might cover a multitude of sins. It would be one part of
a much larger story. It could cover a wife and three kids. Heather
had accepted those hazards as a matter of course. It was almost a
part of the plan. Initially, it had all been taken into account
under the risk column. To her, the risks were worth it…eminently
so. At first, all she was looking for was sex.

Finding Braden was a lucky break.
Heather wanted to live out her fantasy or at least give it a try.
Everything had worked out unbelievably well. She and Braden had a
wonderful time up north. Braden was everything she needed in the
sexual sense. He was just the thing Heather was looking
for.

Braden might be lying when
he said he’d been tested for HIV six months ago. He might be lying
when he said he was clean, no Hepatitis-C or anything like that. He
said he had been celibate for the last eighteen months since he and
his partner broke up. But somehow, knowing even the smallest thing
about Braden had made the decision-making process more difficult,
not easier. She had more facts to go on. She had more to lose.
Maybe that was why it worked out the first time. She didn’t know
anything about Braden, herself, or anything, really. She didn’t
know any better. She didn’t even know if it would
work
that first
time.

The other problem was social. All
those people would be about at the trade show, for though
Burlington was a small city by modern standards, it was big enough
and Braden at least would know people, quite a few by the sound of
it. She would be very much out of character and out of her
depth.

One of the fears was that it might get
a lot more complicated than it looked. That seemed to be happening.
It was the classic honey trap, right out of the CIA or KGB training
manual. That was sheer drama, of course. They were just two lonely
people. She didn’t know much about the guy. Braden sold tractors
and farm equipment in a town up north and he was going to be at a
trade show in Burlington.

Heather had permission to be away for
two days. There might be negative comments when she got back. She
had waited until the last minute and her excuse sounded contrived
to her own ears. An elderly uncle was sick. She’d carefully muddled
the name of the old age home, and the local hospital, which by a
stroke of fortune was in Scarborough. She had no idea of his
doctor’s name.

She had muffed the phone number. The
odds were that no one would check anyway. If Mother Superior or
more likely her chief side-kick Sister Patricia did check, come up
dry and ask a lot of questions, she could plead exhaustion,
emotional upset or just a plain, every day, old-fashioned mistake.
Lately she had feigned a couple of good headaches, not to get out
of work but just to be alone with herself for a while. Heather
figured on riding it out for the short term.

“
Have a good weekend,
Heather.” Sister Dorothy would snap off the lights before she even
got halfway to the door, but that was okay with Heather.

Let me be invisible to them. Undoing
her smock, she slung it over her shoulder and went looking for her
locker and the showers. Their team had won the basketball game, and
was leading St. Mary’s by ten points in the championship…it was all
very exciting, of course, and the voices of the other women were
loud and cheerful.

Nine minutes and she would be out of
there. The key to the rental car, still on the lot, was in her
pocket. A familiar thud of adrenal juices lit up her insides at the
thought of Braden. She would be away from home, in a major city,
where no one knew her and she could do what she liked. They would
blend in, invisible in an anonymous crowd of strangers. Her heart
pounded. She was going to Burlington. She was going to be naked for
Braden within hours. Four or five hours, tops.

With the trade show a yearly thing,
Braden had a hotel room reservation and knew a little about the
place. He had also promised something in the way of a present.
They’d talked for hours on the phone, almost every night for the
last week, with her locked in her tiny bathroom or away from the
convent. She was becoming a bit paranoid. But that intimacy was
revelation to Heather. It was unbelievable, to feel safe in
confiding her most hidden emotions in someone. It was spiritual
liberation, to have a friend of that intimacy. To say she had
poured her heart out would be understatement, and she had listened
very much to him as well.

Braden was sincere, but just how
strong those feelings were was one question, and where it might
lead was another.

Heather visualized herself
in Braden’s room, dressed in a filmy peignoir, wearing white lacy
stockings with a garter belt, dangling emerald earrings...her
nipples stood at full attention by this time, and she cast her
thoughts to the shoe store she’d looked up online. The right shoes
would be something else. The memory of how her feet looked, the
graceful curves of her calves, wrapping up and around Braden’s big
shoulders, making love beside the campfire, it was unforgettable.
Just the way her legs framed the big hips of Braden and the intent
look on his face. She could still feel Braden’s bristly chest on
her inner thighs, the wet feel of Braden’s mouth on her pussy. The
things he said, and more than anything the safe and cuddly feeling
she got when nestled in Braden’s arms. A lot of the time, kissing
and
gazing
were
the only things going on.

Braden knew exactly what she needed.
Over the last three weeks, she had tried desperately hard not to
masturbate, not even be tempted. But it was no good. It was a lie.
She thought of him, but she also thought of other men, when she did
it.

Was it true, then? That almost any
half-decent man would do?

One of the personal revelations was
the fact that she needed love, and very, very badly.

Braden had a face full of character,
although honestly, after three weeks, it was a bit hazy. Heather
had no idea how things would go this time. When she decided to call
Braden, for surely the choice was up to her, her mood lightened and
she felt good about taking the plunge. She had no regrets about
their time at the lake, only that it had ended and her fantasy was
over. But it didn’t have to end. All she had to do was to take that
fantasy and turn it into a new reality.

The logic was simple
enough.

Familiarity might breed contempt, but
she didn’t think so. Or, she could quit and never do it again. She
could go back to the old way. She could go back to being alone all
the time. The trouble was, she didn’t want to, and so a weekend in
Burlington it was to be.

She had about a three-hour drive
ahead, but starting at this hour, traffic would be light until she
got close to the Big Smoke. The night was dark, the road was clear
and she had everything she needed in the rented silver Toyota truck
she drove. After pulling over and changing out of the grey nun’s
habit and into something mainstream but unremarkable, she went on,
feeling like a whole new woman. The clothes were like a suit of
armour or a whole new skin.

Heather could make the shoe store stop
and still get to Burlington by one a.m. or so. She would buy
something that looked good on sheer impulse. It was her birthday
and she had been feeling a bit down lately.

You could get away with anything if
you were prepared to lie about it. A bit of a blush and a stammer
might be just the thing.

#

“
Aw…shit.”

If the first part of her trip afforded
a little too much time to think, coming in from the east and going
through Toronto required her full attention. Her wandering thoughts
and persistently racing heart subsided as she refocused. The lanes
were many, the drivers fast and seemingly erratic until she had
driven a ways. Ramps going off from both left and right sides of
the road were unfamiliar to Heather. She was going from a town of a
few thousand to one of four and half million, and that was a big
difference.

Heather reached over and turned the
radio down, as much as she liked Q107, which was apparently one of
Toronto’s dominant rock stations. She wondered what a submissive
one sounded like, but that was just being catty. She could still
smile at herself, so things weren’t that bad. It was just the sheer
speed and distraction, the complexity. Everything in life had been
happening too fast lately.

That included Braden. That whole trip,
after a lifetime of fantasizing and months of planning, their trip
had happened almost on a whim. She still hadn’t fully integrated
it. She thought about it endlessly, of course, and it still made
her hot. Otherwise why do it again? Braden had no real rights, no
matter what her fantasy said. Braden didn’t even have Heather’s
phone number. It was blocked and protected. She could change her
phone number or close down her internet accounts in a heartbeat and
that would be it. No more contact. The choice was all
hers.

The last time down here,
twenty-something years ago, it was her mom and dad swapping the
driving. They always planned to go through at four a.m. in a bid to
beat traffic on the way to one Civil War battlefield after another.
Half her childhood, it seemed, was spent in the back of a car, or
traipsing across one boring national monument or another. Her old
man loved the Civil War. Much of her youth was gone from memory.
But that one was strong enough to persist.

The tension built in her neck and
across the shoulders. She found a lane that seemed sedate and
comfortable compared to the NASCAR drivers all around. It’s not
like she hadn’t driven at speed before. The problem was that
everyone was doing it and they all seemed a lot more comfortable
with it than she was. A small red car dove across in front from the
left, narrowly missing a large white one attempting to do the
opposite after coming up fast from behind on the right.

“
Shit. What the blazes…”
The signs, hanging over the road on the reflective green boards,
went by inexorably, one by one and in clumps of three and four,
sometimes more.

The sheer reading along this stretch
was like a screen-play. They sure jammed a lot of information into
a very short space. It required interpretation, which was just what
she didn’t have time for. She was looking for the 403. The map
indicated she could actually miss it and still have a dozen other
options for getting there. There would be plenty of warning, the
upcoming exit signs were in extreme overkill mode. The problem was
that Braden had given her explicit directions and she preferred to
nail it, rather than cruise the side streets of an unfamiliar town
in the middle of the night looking to ask directions, or heaven
forbid, stumbling across the actual motel.