by William Lee
Many years ago, Mike had lost all hope of ever being satisfied with his station in life. He grew to resent his American “hosts,” thinking of them more like prison guards than co-workers. Most of the Vitahicians liked the Americans and enjoyed helping them develop new technology. They believed that by helping the Americans develop better technology the Earth would become a good ally and trading partner for the Vitahicians.
Mike was tired of playing the long game. Waiting decade after decade for the humans to get their act together was more than he could stand. Mike was certain that his long life would be over before the humans ever reached the point where they were able to become a meaningful ally to his people. Mike wanted, needed, something more, something to fill the mundane routine of working and sleeping.
Mike, like the other Vitahicians, was well paid for his services. He had no wife or children, rarely left the base and lived in underground quarters provided to him at no cost. His frugal lifestyle and lack of bills had allowed him to save most of his money over the years. Mike planned on having a lot of fun on this vacation with the money he never had time to spend. Except for drinking alcohol, which did not agree with their digestive systems, Vitahicians enjoyed many of the same activities as humans.
Mike’s security detail consisted of two ex-military types wearing dark suits and driving a single SUV. The luggage was placed in the SUV; Mike climbed into the back seat and they started off toward the beach. After struggling through heavy traffic down General Booth Boulevard and Atlantic Avenue, Mike found himself in a large hotel room on the twelfth floor of an expensive ocean front resort. After handing the valet a ten-dollar tip for bringing up his luggage he turned to his security detail, “Do you really have to stand here in the room with me?”
“No Sir, we can stand outside the door, if you would like,” said the bulky man. Both men on the protective detail were wearing black suits, black aviator style sun glasses and appeared to know how to handle a situation.
Where do they find these goons?
“Do you guys always wear black suits? It’s 105 degrees out there,” Mike asked with a slight chuckle.
“We will have to accompany you whenever you leave the room,” said the larger man, ignoring Mike’s question. The men turned to walk out the door.
“If I go lay on the beach, will you two stand in the sand behind me wearing those black suits?”
“I think the boardwalk will be close enough,” said the smaller of the two stone-faced agents. On the drive in, Mike had noticed that the Virginia Beach boardwalk was about five miles long, and made of poured concrete, not actual wooden boards.
After a day of relaxing on the beach, Mike decided to walk down Atlantic Ave to a steak restaurant that had received many good reviews, it appeared to be a small family owned restaurant with a silhouette of a bull on the outside of the building. Mike was thankful that Vitahician scientists had developed a pill that, if taken prior to eating, would allow for easy digestion of human food. He did not make a habit of eating human food, but from time to time he liked to splurge. The food was excellent. The two agents sat at a nearby table and did not appear to eat anything other than a few rolls. Mike planned to charter a boat and go deep sea fishing the next day, but tonight he was going to head across the street to a bar where a local band was playing. Mike paid the bill and left an extra twenty for the cute waitress. As he walked out the door, the two agents followed.
“I’m heading across the street to listen to the band; do you have to follow me?” Mike asked the two agents. Mike was wearing khaki shorts, a brightly colored collared shirt and tan loafers. He knew the two men in black suits would stand out like vampires in the Vatican.
“Look, I want to relax, have a few drinks, listen to some music, and maybe pick up a woman. You two goons are going to draw all kinds of unwanted attention to me.”
“We have our orders.” If the man was upset about being called a ‘goon’ he did not show it.
“Hey, can you at least wait out in the parking lot? How much trouble can I get into at a bar?” Mike asked, as they crossed over Atlantic Avenue.
The two men glanced at each other. They knew Mike was not a normal person. They knew he was a V.I.P. of some sort, but they did not know of his extraterrestrial origins.
Mike pressed, “Listen, what if I get some cute little piece-of-ass to come home with me tonight? Are you two clowns going to have to stand over the bed while I bang her?”
Mike looked like a human, and the average person would never suspect he was not of this world. He wanted to get the maximum enjoyment out of his vacation before heading back to the confinement of his underground bunker.
Goon number one hesitated for a painfully long moment, but then his stature relaxed. Mike knew he had won. “Okay, I don’t know why we were instructed to keep such a close eye on you, but you seem to be a decent guy. We will stay in the parking lot, but if you cause problems, you won’t be able to take a shit without us watching.”
“Thank you, thank you,” Mike said enthusiastically, putting his hands together and taking a slight bow. Mike really had no intentions of doing anything illegal. He just wanted to have a few minutes without big brother watching him.
“If anything goes down, if you feel unsafe for any reason, take this,” the agent handed him a small plastic device, the size of a key fob. “Press the red button in the middle of the key fob, and we will be there in seconds. Its range is two miles, but, here in the parking lot, we should not be more than 100 yards away. Keep it in your pocket.”
Mike took it. He assumed the key fob also contained a GPS tracking system and listening device, but it was still better than having those guys bumping into him in the bar.
Mike walked up the wooden stairs onto a large deck. He pushed through the crowded room full of drunken sailors, college kids, and vacationers. The bar was decorated in a muddled nautical theme with crab pots, anchors, surfboards and other items relating to beach life.
Mike navigated his way up to the crowded bar, sliding in between two scantily clad co-eds that had been drinking copious amounts of alcohol. After a few minutes, the bar tender approached him, “What can I get for you, sweetie?” The bar tender was wearing a tiny black spaghetti string top that barely covered her breasts and short tight cutoff jeans that allowed her butt cheeks to peek through when she bent over.
“I’ll take a water,” Mike said.
The waitress frowned, “Would you like anything in the water?”
“Just ice, ma’am. I have to drive home. Could you put it in the high ball glass? I don’t want to look like a cop,” Mike said with a grin.
“No problem,” the waitress slid the glass of water to him across the bar, smiled, and winked. Mike was accustomed to getting attention from the ladies. It did not take him long to figure out that human women found him attractive.
Mike glanced at two drunk co-eds on either side of him; they were way too young. He made his way to the back open-air deck. Beyond the deck was the boardwalk, sandy beach, rolling ocean, and starry night. He found a chair near the band and sat down. He was there for one purpose: to find a woman.
There’s a woman in this bar that has already decided that she is going to have sex with a stranger tonight. My job is to figure out which one that is – don’t waste time with the rest of them.
He scanned the bar, checking out each woman.
Too drunk. Too married. Too many girlfriends.
He took another sip of water. Across the bar he saw a woman, appearing to be in her mid-thirties, leaning up against the wall. She was making love to an icy red drink with a gaudy umbrella in it. Mike waited a few minutes; no boyfriend appeared. Mike walked over to her.
“Hi there, I’m Mike. Do you like this band?”
She smiled and raised her finger to display a large wedding ring.
“My bad. Your husband is a lucky guy,” Mike said. Mike was tall, fit, and had deep blue eyes. His blonde hair, which normally was combed back for work, was fashionably unk
empt. He was 220 years old, but did not look a day over thirty-nine. Mike was confident he would find the right woman.
After striking out a few more times, Mike went back to the bar to refill his glass.
“Same thing?” the bartender asked with a smile.
Mike nodded his head. When she spun around his eyes dropped to the super tight cut off shorts.
“Like what you see?” the bar tender had turned around so fast Mike could not divert his eyes. She was still smiling.
“What’s not to like?” he replied. The water was free; he handed her a ten-dollar bill, and said, “keep the change.”
He headed back outside, took up a seat near the band. They were playing eighties chart toppers – something about Egyptians.
The night is still young. I will find my girl.
A Russian woman walked up to him and asked, “Is this seat taken?” She had short blond hair and an athletic figure. Her hazel eyes confidently held contact with his.
Mike halfway stood up, waived at the empty chair, and said, “Be my guest.”
After a few drinks and small talk, she asked if he would like to go for a walk. On the beach, the wind was blowing, and the temperature had dropped to a comfortable 82 degrees. The wind blowing from the Atlantic Ocean was thick with the smell of salt.
“Let’s take our shoes off,” Mike said.
“I love walking barefoot in the sand.” She smiled up at him.
After kicking off their shoes and leaving them on the boardwalk, they strolled to the shoreline where the waves were washing up on the sandy beach. The salty water felt good on Mike’s feet. Hand-in-hand, they walked along the beach, feet sinking into the sand as the foamy surf hurried up to meet them. Her name was Nikita Smirnoff, and she was from Moscow, here on a work visa.
“Oh, where do you work?” Mike asked.
“I work for a Russian cargo shipping company. We do a lot of business with the Portsmouth International Terminals,” she replied.
“Sounds exciting.”
“Not really. It’s kind of boring.”
They continued talking as they walked down the beach, focusing only on each other. Mike had all but forgotten about the two goons that were supposed to be escorting him.
Shit. If I wonder off too far off they will be up my ass for the next 10 days.
“I think we need to head back to the bar,” Mike said, hoping not to give Nikita the wrong impression.
“Oh, that’s too bad, I was really enjoying our walk,” she sounded genuinely disappointed.
Damn. I really want to close the deal on this one. If those clowns-in-black cock-block my night, I’m going to be pissed.
“I’m having a great time, too. I was hoping we could go back to my hotel room. I have a nice suite overlooking the ocean. Twelfth floor.”
Damn. Was that too forward?
“You must think I’m easy,” she teased, trying her hardest to sound offended.
“No, not at all. We were just having such a good time. I just thought. . .” Mike’s voice trailed off.
“I’m just kidding. I would love to go up to your room. Do you have one of those little mini-bars?”
“Hell, yeah. You want to get trashed?” Mike asked enthusiastically. Mike never ‘got trashed,’ but he knew many humans got excited about drinking alcohol. He had also discovered that the best way to throw a bucket of cold water all over a situation was to explain why he did not drink alcohol.
“You can’t get too trashed, cowboy; you got some work to do.” She smiled and laughed while gently pushing him.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll definitely get the job done,” Mike said with a wink.
“Oh, I’m looking forward to it.”
“Do you have a car parked at the bar?” Mike asked.
“What, you can’t wait till we get to the hotel room?” Nikita said with exaggerated indignation and a laugh.
“Nothing like that. I just walked here. My hotel is 30 blocks away.”
“Yep, I’m in the parking garage across from the bar. I can drive us to your hotel.”
Good! Now I can get those goons off my back.
“Can we stop by the bar first, I need to use the head.”
“No problem,” she said.
Once in the bar, Mike took a lingering look at her and grinned. “I’ll be right back,” he drawled.
Instead of using the head, Mike made his way back to the front of the bar. He checked to see if she was watching and then slipped out the front door. One of the agents had gone and retrieved the SUV while Mike was inside. The passenger window slid down with a slight electric purr.
“Having fun, Mr. Evans?” the no-neck agent asked from the passenger seat.
“Yes, I got a girl that wants to come up to the room, can you guys stay out of sight?”
“Way to go Mr. Evans. Is she hot?” The smaller of the two goons asked, while raising his hands to his chest as if to mimic having large boobs.
“That’s really professional,” Mike said with insincere offense.
“Hey, we got to have some fun too.”
“Really, you still have sun glasses on?” Mike said sarcastically. “Listen, she’s going to drive me back in her car. It’s over there in the garage; you can be cool, right?” Mike pointed at the two-story parking garage.
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll stay out of sight.”
“Thanks. I didn’t tell her I had the men-in-black following me. Thought it may put a damper on things,” Mike doubled tapped the roof of the SUV with the universal ‘okay to go’ signal and ran back in to the bar. He spotted Nikita in the back, near the band, and made his way over to her.
“Damn, I thought you might have fallen in or something, cause I knew damn well you were not going to ditch me,” she said jokingly.
Mike laughed, “Everything is all good. Let’s go put a hurting on that mini-bar.”
They had to go out to Pacific Avenue, the next street over, to make their way back to the hotel because the police had blocked off Atlantic Avenue for foot traffic only. Back in the hotel, Mike opened the mini-bar.
This mini-bar will cost me more than a damn hooker. Oh, Well, you only live once.
“What’s your poison?” Mike asked, while leaning over and peering into the mini-fridge.
“Vodka, of course.” She laughed as she flicked her high heels off.
Mike filled a glass with ice and slowly poured the vodka. He sauntered over to Nikita with the glass, but when she reached for it, he pulled it away. She smiled at the game, and when she made a grab for the glass, he pushed her up against the wall. Wrapping his free arm around her waist, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She was a good kisser, and she already tasted like vodka. He disposed of the drink, and his hand dropped from her waist to her firm buttocks, he squeezed. He could feel her heart pulsing as his right hand slid up her the inside of her blouse and cupped her left breast. Next thing he knew she was on the bed, and he was on top of her. Two hours later, they collapsed on the twisted sheets, naked and exhausted.
The next morning, Mike woke to the scent of a strong ocean breeze. The curtains were billowing inwards from the wind, as it pushed through the open glass door. Sunlight was pouring into the room from the balcony that overlooked the ocean. That’s where he found her. Her naked body silhouetted in the dancing curtains, with a cup of coffee pressed to her lips. He stood up, aware of his own exposed body, and walked toward her. She turned to him and smiled.
“Aren’t you worried about someone seeing you naked?” he asked with a cocky glint in his eye.
“I think we are well past that, don’t you?” she retorted, as she pushed her blonde locks out of her face, to gaze at him.
“I didn’t mean me,” he told her, his voice growing heavier as he filled the space between them.
“We’re twelve stories up, it would not be much of a show,” she challenged.
“It was one hell of a show last night,” Mike chuckled.
“It was wonderful. I ho
pe we can do it again.”
Mike answered the plea in her voice, as he pressed his lips against hers.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Virginia Beach, VA
Last July
Nikita Smirnov felt the cool beach air blow around her naked body, after round two this morning. She was standing on the balcony caressing a fresh new cup of steaming hot black coffee that she had made in the complimentary hotel coffee maker. It did not even cross her mind that early morning joggers may look up and see her exposed and lost in thought on the balcony. Last night did not go as expected.
The previous evening, she had gone to the bar with some of her girlfriends from work. The plan was to get drunk and crash at a friend’s house near the beach. Then she saw him. She knew what he was the second she laid eyes on him. She had been looking for him, it, for three years. As soon as she saw him, she had excused herself and called her contact in New York. When she asked for instructions, her contact said, “Honeypot. Don’t let him out of your sight until I arrive.”
Last night’s sex was amazing. She would have slept with him regardless of the mission. Now she had to keep him in sight until the Master arrived. The Nordic visitor seemed to be alone on vacation; it should not be hard to convince him to hang out with her. She knew how to keep him occupied until reinforcements arrived. She heard footsteps behind her.
“Are you trying to make history repeat itself?” Mike teased.
“I should probably try to finish one cup of coffee?” She giggled, twisting her index finger in her short hair.
“Well, don’t let me stop you. You will be needing your energy for later tonight.”
“Tonight?” she probed.
“It was one hell of a show last night,” Mike chuckled.
Mike picked up on the nervous tremor in her voice and mistook it for insecurity. “I had a fishing trip planned for afternoon, but I’ll be back on land tonight.”
Nikita could not risk losing this asset, and she was kind of hurt at the seeming lack of desire to stay with her. Pushing up on her toes, she crushed her lips to his. She pushed him toward the bed, “I don’t want you to miss your fishing trip,” she teased as he melted into the bed beneath her.
