"Go home and take care of whatever you need to do. If you have to evacuate, call our toll-free number and let us know your status. Otherwise, we'll see you back here on Tuesday. Have a good Labor Day weekend." Although spoken sincerely and with good intentions, those words rang hollowly upon my ears as I prepared to head home early on Friday.
As if a good weekend was about to happen. After all, thousands of dollars worth of damage had been done to my house exactly three weeks ago when Hurricane Charley charged across central Florida. The insurance was not even settled yet and now another hurricane – this one reported to be as big as Texas and extremely powerful – was heading toward us.
I was deep in thought as I left the office complex where I worked as a computer system analyst for, well, let me just refer to it as a major entertainment industry in central Florida. I knew that I would not be evacuating. Despite the damage done to my pool and lanai cage by Charley, my house was built like a fortress. Money was not a problem even back when I had it designed and constructed. I was well tenured, well compensated, and comfortable in my life style. My daughter, the youngest of three children, had just been accepted as a junior partner in a prestigious Atlanta law firm. Her older brothers were both well into stable, well-remunerated lives. The kids' mother had been gone from our lives ever since their young years, all the better for the four of us. As I headed toward my reserved parking slot, my mind on this new storm and possible repercussions, I bumped into and almost knocked over a co-worker who was pacing at the entrance to the underground parking area.
"I'm sorry," I told her. "Are you OK?" The young lady, Laura, looked up at me and smiled, nodding, but the tear I saw leaking out of her right eye concerned me. "I hurt you, didn't I?" She shook her head, but a tear escaped her other eye. I took her arm and lead her the short distance to a nearby bench.
Her skirt rode up above her knees as she sat down. I lifted my gaze from her legs to her eyes; my concern about being busted as a gawker disappeared when I saw her eyelids were squeezed shut, holding back additional tears. Her breathing was uneven; I could see her shoulders start to shake as she began to sob, quietly at first, then audibly. I sat down beside her and held her hands in a comforting gesture. She leaned into me, her head on my left shoulder, and continued crying. After a minute or so, her sobbing slowed and she backed away.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I feel like an idiot, crying like that."
"I'm the one who should apologize," I responded. "I really didn't mean to hurt you."
"Oh, you didn't. You have nothing to apologize for."
"Then, why were you crying? What's wrong?"
Laura took a deep, ragged breath before speaking. Hesitant at first, her words became a rush by the time she got rolling. In a nutshell, she was scared. Scared by the hurricane that had already passed. Scared of the new hurricane that now threatened her. Scared because she had been slightly injured by flying debris during the previous storm. Scared for her life as a result of the coming storm. As she spoke, I learned that her apartment complex, although not condemned, had been damaged by Charley. Laura was scared that she would not be safe there when Frances hit.
I knew Laura had not worked around the office complex long (there was no way I could help but notice a pretty young lady with a face and body like hers) but I had not known that she had moved here from Ohio only four weeks ago. New to the area, she had not yet made friends who could put her up during the upcoming storm. And, as she repeated, she was scared.
"Laura," I offered, "if you want to, you can come stay at my place until the storm blows over."
"I wouldn't want to put you out like that, Mr. Richardson," she said. "What would your wife say about you bringing home a strange young lady?"
"First of all, call me Steve," I told her. "Please don't remind me how old I'm getting. Anyhow, there is no wife to be concerned about. I live alone, and, quite frankly, I think I'd enjoy your company."
"I think you would, too," she said, a strange smile crossing her face. "In fact, I'm pretty sure you will," she added cryptically.
I escorted her to my Escalade and we made a quick trip to her apartment so she could pick up a change of clothes (and whatever else it is that some women seem unable to be without). As I waited in her parking lot I watched the blue tarp that had been spread over her roof rippling in the strengthening breeze. 'I need to invest in the companies that make these blue tarps,' I thought. 'They've got to be making money.'
Laura came scurrying down the steps carrying a small suitcase. I got out of the SUV and took the bag from her, placing it in the back seat after opening the passenger side door and helping her up into her seat. She had changed clothes while upstairs, now wearing a short, swirling satiny orange skirt and, gentleman that I am, I could not help but notice sheer red panties. Laura smiled sweetly at me when she saw that I had not averted my eyes in time but said nothing. After I got back into the Escalade and fastened my seatbelt, she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you so much for doing this, Steve," she said. "You don't know how much this means to me."
"I'm just glad to be able to do this for you," I responded. "It makes me feel good being able to help someone. And, I'm kind of glad it's you."
"I'm glad it's me, too," she said. "I do believe we'll enjoy getting to know each other better."
We did precisely that as I drove to my house out in the country. I had invested in real estate several decades earlier and had my house built on a prime piece of land, well away from the hustle and bustle of tourist land. As I drove I learned that Laura had graduated from Ohio State University with double majors in public relations and journalism three months earlier. She had been hired by corporate recruiters at a college job fair, and liked what she was doing. She had been on the gymnastic team at OSU and almost made the All-American team, but her 5'10" stature worked against her. She had been engaged to a fellow student at the Columbus campus until she found him in bed with her roommate one afternoon when gymnastics practice was cancelled. She liked classical music and to sing karaoke, although she had not done so since moving down here. I enjoyed listening not only to the dulcet tone of her voice, but even more the content and context of her young life.
The gate to my estate was hidden unless one knew exactly where to look. I slowed as I turned, activating the gate with my remote. The gate closed behind us as I drove up the tree-lined drive to the house. Most of the trees had survived Charley and, in the three weeks since it passed, I had spent a small fortune having my property cleaned up. As a result, there were no potential missiles lying around awaiting renewed wind.
Pressing another button on the remote opened the garage door and I drove in. The garage door closed behind me. I turned off the engine and turned toward Laura. It was silent except for the sound of our breathing and the ticking of the cooling engine. I unsnapped my seatbelt, opened my door and went to her side of the SUV. As I opened her door and helped her out, I was again treated to a glimpse of her panty-covered crotch. Laura appeared to stumble as she exited and fell against me. As I am a good half-foot taller than she, I had to look down at her. She stretched up on her toes, pressing firmly against my chest, and kissed me lingeringly on the mouth. Her tongue flicked gently against my lips, then disappeared before I could react.
React with my own lips, that is. I could feel a lower section of my body starting to react. She seemed to rub against my growing erection for several seconds before disengaging. "Show me the house, Steve," she requested. I grabbed her bag from the back seat in my left hand, closed both doors on the passenger side, took her hand in my right hand and headed into the house proper after disarming the intrusion alarm.
