A Case of Mistaken Identity

by Collette Thomas

  Oomph!

  "From the look on your face I'm guessing bad news,” Flynt said, holding her at an arms distance. “Anything I can do to help?"

  "I can't believe this is happening. After all that trouble of getting ready for him, and then he doesn't bother to show his pompous face.” Whether she was Adrienne or not, she was damn angry. She certainly had better things to do with her time than spend it sitting in some airport lounge. She suddenly thought of that rowboat and how she would now love to throw the pompous idiot overboard. Instead of pulling him out, rescuing him the way Adrienne had, merely sit there in that rowboat and watch him sink like some dead weight. The vision of him going under almost lessened her anger. Almost.

  "Aw c'mon, Red. Sit yourself back down here. What I think you need is one more drink."

  She looked at him. Something somewhere in the back of her mind was telling her the evening didn't have to be a total loss. “Maybe you're right,” she mumbled, then forced a smile, and decided the trip to the airport hadn't been a complete waste. After all, she could be sitting at that table listening to a myopic, boring stuffed shirt rather than a cross between Easy Rider and the Marlborough Man. Flynt Adams was an honest to goodness hunk. Even flew his own plane. He even came to the aid of jilted damsels in distress at airports. And then plied them with drinks. She quickly dismissed the last thought.

  For one split second, she was no longer Adrienne and couldn't help but think that this kind of thing usually did not happen to the Myrna Dunbar's of the world, who got stood up in airports or wherever else they chose to wait for Mr. Right to come along. The thought sent her back to thinking about Jack ‘the Atlas’ Morgan and how he'd made a fool of her. Both thought and the memory were sobering, threatening to make her depressed. Adrienne's reaction would've been different. Adrienne wouldn't let what was happening to Myrna pull her down. Adrienne always found a way to make lemonade out of lemons. Adrienne would find a way to turn the whole thing around.

  Myrna looked up at her knight in black leather and faded denim. Then wondered what did one actually do with a knight in black leather and faded denim? Visions of leather and denim scattered across her royal blue carpeting rose.

  Of course, Adrienne would know what to do with Easy Rider. She'd know exactly what to do with this hunk of a man's man. But Adrienne was not there to even give her a clue on how or where to begin. She was strictly on her own.

  But it was her that sat across from Flynt Adams—not Adrienne. Suddenly, she chuckled inwardly. Adrienne, eat your heart out.

  "You know Red, since I'll be staying in the area for awhile, looking over real estate prospects, maybe you and I can take in some of the sights. You know. Have us a little fun during my stay.” He gave her a blatant up and down look. “I'm mean, that dress tells me you like having fun. You don't mind if I call you Red, do you? Sort of suits you."

  She'd never had anyone call her anything but Myrna, discovering some people just didn't suit being called a nickname. “Uh ... n-n-no. Some people do call me that,” she lied. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. She was sure that some of Adrienne's friends had probably come up with their own particular nicknames for her roommate and wouldn't discount “RED” among them.

  Jonathan ordered more drinks and Myrna's glass quickly turned into two, three, and when the fourth glass was poured, she realized the time had gotten away from her as she sat with Flynt and played her role to the hilt. Later, she knew she wouldn't remember exactly what they'd talked about. The snowman part probably. But outside of that, she doubted if her mind would easily release that knowledge, though she would be able to remember their conversation flowing as freely as the wine. At one point when she stood up to go to the ladies room, the walls around her spun, making her almost lose her balance. That's when she knew she had a little too much to drink. That's also when she remembered the Audi parked in short-term parking. She started to worry how she would manage to get it and her home in one piece.

  "I think I better switch to coffee if I'm going to drive home tonight,” she told him.

  "Hold on, honey. I don't think you should be driving back yourself."

  "N-no ... but I do have to get back some time."

  "Well, look then, I only had a couple of beers, so I'm fine. How about if I drive you home?” He immediately caught her wary glance and added, “Hey, don't worry, Red, I'm not trying to come on to you. I just want to make sure you get home safe. Scouts honor! And if you want to get it on, then it's up to you."

  She heard his words. Suddenly all the fantasies she ever kept to herself streamed through her mind. She started to imagine herself enjoying every single one with this handsomely rugged cowboy.

  "But my car...."

  "We'll take your car. I can always grab a cab to a hotel or rent a car."

  "I don't think that's a very good idea,” she responded, still remaining somewhat cautious despite the amount of wine. “I mean you driving me home. I don't know you well enough—"

  "Yeah, sure, I understand. I might seem like a nice guy, but you never know how someone really is. I mean we're just starting to get to know one another."

  "Starting?” In her mind he'd suddenly tagged a “future” to that word—a future for them. Except, Myrna suddenly realized despite the numbing effects of the wine, that future would only run a mere two weeks until Adrienne's return. Then Cinderella's Audi would immediately turn back into a pumpkin or in her case the sensible vintage Volkswagen.

  "I can't just let you drive home. You've had a little too much of that vino. How about I get YOU a cab instead?"

  "No. I can't let you.... Besides it's too far. Too expensive.” Her words sounded more slurred than before.

  "Nothing's too expensive for you, Red."

  "But I...."

  Jonathan aka Flynt Adams rose and went to the phone before Myrna could say another word. Myrna figured that anyone who owned and flew his own plane to another city just for something to do didn't think twice about hiring a cab. As he returned, she started to get a better understanding of her newfound friend.

  "Where did you say you were from?"

  "Albuquerque! That's the hot air balloon capitol of the world,” he exclaimed.

  "Hot air balloons?” That did it. Now Myrna knew it was fate instead of bad luck that had brought them together. Why else would all her fantasies gain substance in a single evening?

  Somehow, she made it to the ladies room. While there, she called Adrienne to leave a message and tell her that lover boy Wetherall III was a ‘no show.’ Except something decisively stopped her. Adrienne was going to be away anyway. And Myrna was free to play this part for the next two weeks. The prospect of taking on Adrienne's persona for the entire two weeks was suddenly more attractive. This was her chance to really find out what she had really been missing. Suddenly, she knew she didn't want to give up this fantasy. She did not want to revert back to that old life at least not just yet, revert back to living the life of plain old safe and never sorry Myrna Dunbar.

  Flynt was still sitting at the table when she returned. Their glasses had been replaced with steaming cups of coffee. As she sat down, he picked up the conversation as if she'd never left.

  "Want to give it a try sometime?"

  "Give what a try?"

  "Hot air ballooning."

  "Oh I don't know. There's not much holding up one of those things, is there? I mean one little hole, and down you come. Splat!"

  "Actually, they're quite safe as long as you know what you're doing."

  "I take it that you've been up in them."

  "Plenty of times,” Jonathan lied.

  "Really. Then what's it really like up there?” Adrienne, Myrna thought, would be willing and ready to go up in one of those balloons at a moment's notice.

  "Well ... it's like flying on a cloud, a rainbow cloud. Ballooning is the second best thing you can ever do in this world."

  "Second?"

  "Only after making love. And what would be better than making love in one of thos
e things?"

  "Have you?"

  "Have I what?"

  "Have you ever made love in a hot air balloon?” The thought suddenly filled her with hope and possibilities.

  He regarded her carefully, contemplating her question. “Hey, I sure ain't giving away all my secrets, at least not yet.” He winked.

  She dropped her gaze to her coffee cup and took a hasty sip, feeling his icy blue eyes pass over her. It created a heated effect inside that had nothing to do with the wine or the steaming coffee.

  When she ventured a look back at him, his smile said that he'd been teasing her. Still she'd taken his comments seriously enough and it had her wondering about all sorts of things, like how it would feel to be kissed by him, to be held by him, to be touched by this Flynt Adams. Was it even possible to make love in one of those things?

  "So, Adrienne. What's the name of this guy you were expecting? Wetall?"

  She laughed nervously. “No. Jonathan Wetherall the third."

  "Sounds like a surefire dork with a name like that. I can't picture you and him together, Red. Seems he'd be better off teaming up with some mousy librarian type."

  A hard lump formed in her throat at the image of that proverbial librarian; a career she had chosen for herself. And did he say mousy? Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. Was the image that bad? She'd always thought of herself as fairly intelligent. Fairly sensitive. Fairly inquisitive. Plain she could live with. Mousy? It'd been a label she had tried hard to avoid.

  "Yes, well, I'm really doing it more as a favor for my dad. This Wetherall is a son of a friend of his and I didn't have much choice in the matter. But now it seems I've been given a reprieve from I'm sure weeks of sheer unadulterated boredom."

  "Yeah. Who knows, maybe you might have found yourself at some dumb highbrow concert with that nerd tonight, instead of hanging out with me."

  Nerd or not, Myrna would've loved attending one of those ‘dumb’ concerts. She loved classical music; the opera, the ballet. On the other hand, she reminded herself, Adrienne preferred Country Western music and action movies. “Yeah, I certainly lucked out, didn't I?” She looked into her coffee cup. “No doubt an evening with Wetherall would have been just as exciting as Monday night's wash."

  She suddenly looked up and noticed a muscle jerking at one side of Flynt's jaw as if something she had said annoyed him. And what did she say? They'd been talking about Jonathan Wetherall and librarians. Excitement versus boredom. Meeting a man in the airport was exciting. And if she were totally honest with herself, pretending to be Adrienne was exciting, too. For a brief moment she played with the idea of telling Flynt the truth, but she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Men like Flynt ran with wildcats rather than ‘mice.’ Men like Flynt did not hitch up with anyone that came close to ‘mousy.’ Suddenly as Adrienne Bennett she now had the chance to see what it was like running with a man like Flynt. Adrienne, who had conveniently arranged to leave for vacation, was in fact leaving that night. For two weeks her roommate would be out of the apartment, out of the state, spending time with friends. So who else would know about their little charade? Who would be the wiser? Myrna had taken time off from her job. Yeah, who would know? Not that any of her friends would get the chance to meet this Flynt Adams during those two weeks. She would put them off for that time. And if she pulled this off, she would find out, once and for all, what she had been missing.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When they walked in, the apartment was expectedly dark and quiet. Myrna had changed her mind about letting Flynt drive her home.

  Adrienne was off somewhere exotic.

  They would not be disturbed.

  Though Adrienne's absence was not permanent, Myrna knew that in that not so distant future Adrienne's return would necessitate hers as well.

  "I want you to make love to me.” It was her voice saying the words, yet behind them another person existed, aka Adrienne Bennett—the same Adrienne who enjoyed the wild pleasures of a man's touch.

  Despite the sexy red dress and her flamboyant manner, Adrienne Bennett imposter or not, the words caught Jonathan, aka Flynt Adams, off guard. “What? Here? Now?"

  Myrna moved closer, softly stroking the side of his face. “Yes,” she whispered. “Here.” She stepped back a little. “And now.” She slowly started to ease the red dress off one shoulder. Sensing his uncertainty, she touched his arm as if to reassure him. She smiled and hoped the man did not need much more encouragement than that, because if he did, she might lose her own courage to follow through.

  She thought of Art Wagner and Adrienne on that morning together, practically in the same spot. Art would have needed no encouragement then or now, she was sure of that. Art would have been more than ready. She looked up at Flynt and wondered if she had overestimated this man. Clearly she could see Wetherall adapting a reluctant attitude, but this one? With a name like Flynt Adams, she expected no disappointing response.

  Plus, although tempted, she couldn't back off. If she did Myrna Dunbar would return, along with all that made her life safe and boring. Did she want that anymore? Did she want safe never sorry Myrna Dunbar back?

  She knew that suddenly she did not want to revert back to that uninspiring life ... at least not yet. Opportunity was at hand. And she knew she had to grab at it or else let it slide through her fingers, lose the chance to live that part of life—albeit short—that would let her know what she'd been missing.

  She eased the red dress further down, letting the soft material flutter to the floor. Then stood in those special panties and matching lacy red push up bra.

  * * * *

  Jonathan hesitated, but suddenly Flynt Adams needed no permission. In the dim light of a nearby lamp he could see the satin skin inviting his touch.

  "Are you ready?” he asked.

  "Ready?"

  "To take this further. Explore your fantasies? Mine as well. Because once we start, there's no going back on this."

  She knew what he meant. He was giving her a way out. Letting her know they could still walk away. Still wake up tomorrow morning with no regrets.

  "You and I are strangers,” he reminded her.

  "Yes, and that's what makes it...” she hesitated.

  "Exciting? Tempting? Daring ... Forbidden."

  "Yes,” she whispered, suddenly seeing herself lying there on the carpet, with Flynt poised above, ready to enter. A delicious warmth traveled up through her groin. Suddenly she surmised he was meaning more. “We're not talking about vanilla sex here, are we?"

  "No, I want to go beyond that. We are strangers. And frankly I think strangers can find it easier to engage in certain acts, memorable acts, ones that will have you thinking about this night for a very long time.” He smiled—a smiled that told her he could read her mind, knowing where she wanted to take this.

  "We have all night,” he said, drawing closer. “First tell me your fantasies, the ones you dream about, the ones that keep you awake at night with those strong longings."

  She felt suddenly exposed. Fear edged her thoughts. Not fear of him, but what she wanted to do with him. Her dark shadow side that had been repressed for so long fought to come out. Demanded release.

  He reached out and boldly fondled one breast. “I've wanted to touch you all night,” he whispered, “like this.” He pressed his hand firmly against her bra, and she could feel the nipple beneath grow hard. He did the same with the other.

  She breathed in his scent. Intoxicating. She could feel herself melting into him. He drew her close and took her mouth in a long languorous kiss. After a moment, he pulled slightly away, a chuckle rose deep from his throat.

  "I guess we don't waste time, Red, do we?"

  She let out a soft laugh.

  He stared at her with such intensity as if somewhere inside his mind he needed to still figure this all out.

  "You're sure about this,” he asked again, his hands sliding across her silken belly. “You don't think later you'll worry about those regrets?” Despite the
warning he removed his shirt, seemingly wasting no time either.

  "Regrets?” she repeated softly as she rubbed her hands across his bare chest, playfully encircling his nipples, making them grow as hard and erect as hers.

  "At what we're about to do,” he added. “You're willing to go all the way here."

  "If I have regrets, I'll live with them,” she whispered, feeling the pounding of her heart, the slow relentless hot melting moving upward into her belly. “I don't want you holding back Flynt Adams. Promise me, you won't hold back? I want us to explore ... no boundaries."

  His tongue flicked across her red moist lips teasingly, letting her know from this point on there would be no turning back. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, as if claiming her. It left her breathless. “Then let's play this thing out,” he whispered. “Play out our fantasies."

  She looked up at him, moving her hands over his broad chest. Rock hard solid, just as she suspected it would feel from the first time she laid eyes on him inside that dark lounge.

  His hands released her breasts and moved down over her hips, pulling her closer to him. She could feel him shudder as that other “rock hard” part of him responded.

  She wound her arms up around his neck, pulling herself up against him. Myrna entangled her fingers in his hair, loving the feel of its silky texture. This man—this stranger, would soon know her in every possible way a man could know a woman.

  It was what she wanted.

  Suddenly, they were no longer standing, but lowering themselves to the royal blue carpet, the same carpet only nights before welcomed Adrienne and Wagner's naked forms. Myrna knew well enough that she was finally living out only one of her fantasies. A fantasy that haunted her dreams, a fantasy determined to see itself through from beginning to end.

  Flynt kissed the hollow at her throat at the same time he cradled her against him. He captured the nipple of one breast and suckled it. Instant waves of hot desire coursed through her. When he released the nipple, the cool night air against the moistness created by his tongue produced a poignant ache.