Resurrection X

by Dane Hatchell

  When his mind solidified into the present, he saw his face in the mirror. Even though he appeared almost as he did as a Living, the Sub Z ID etched on his forehead stood out as a cruel reminder that he could never truly escape from what he had become.

  Rebecca gasped. “Byron! Your eyes . . . they’ve turned blue!”

  Chapter 32

  Rick Poundstone waited for the last bit of his breath mint to dissolve and decided on his opening line before ringing the doorbell. His heart beat as rapidly as it did before addressing large audiences. Get a hold of yourself, man.

  The door opened with a metallic scraping sound and squeaking hinges. Lisa Goudard posed in the doorway wearing a sexy little v-neck black dress with asymmetrical ruching at the waist. She placed one black-laced-gloved hand on the doorjamb and the other on her hip. “Yes? Can I help you?” The words dripped out her mouth like warm honey.

  Rick moved the roses away from his face. His gaze slipped past her smile, down the plunging neckline to her short skirt, and all the way down to her black Giuseppe Zanotti T-strap sandals.

  “Wow . . . .” Rick quickly lifted his head and positioned the flowers under his chin. “Excuse me, Miss, I was looking for an employee of mine. Last seen at this location wearing pajama bottoms and an old football jersey.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls. Is that your best pickup line?”

  Rick thought a moment. “An angel stopped me by the side of the road and handed me this bouquet of yellow roses. He told me to follow the fireflies and give the flowers to whomever they brought me to. When I asked, What fireflies?, the angel turned into a swarm and led me to your door.”

  Lisa nodded at the porch light. “All I see are mosquitoes and a couple of brown moths. Are you sure you haven’t been drinking?”

  “Nothing to drink yet. But what does a guy have to do to get an invitation to come in?”

  Lisa took the flowers and held them to her nose. “You had me at yellow roses. Please, won’t you come in?”

  Following her lead, Rick stepped in, and closed the door.

  “I need to put these in water, so make yourself at home,” Lisa said.

  The furniture in the living room faced the TV armoire. Its doors were closed. Good, Rick thought. He didn’t want the annoying TV playing in the background competing for attention. Her laptop set on a coffee table beside a collection of women’s fashion magazines. A candle burned on a sofa table and filled the room with the warm scent of baked apples peppered with floral spice.

  Lisa returned to the living room carrying the roses in a crystal vase, and placed it in the middle of the coffee table. “These are absolutely gorgeous.”

  “Thank you. Gorgeous, yes. Not the only thing in the room . . . ” his words trailed off.

  “What?”

  “Er, nothing.” Rick rotated his shoulders and straightened his back. “You know, I feel guilty for not taking you out to eat.”

  “Why? I invited you over tonight.”

  “Well, our lunch last time could have gone better. And I did want to celebrate your first two weeks with the campaign. You’ve brought in a huge amount of contributions at a critical time. Taking you out to show my appreciation seems the least I can do.”

  Lisa moved over to Rick and placed her hand on his. “We can go out to eat some other time. Besides, in restaurants people recognize you, and they’re constantly interrupting. I didn’t want to share you with anyone else. Tonight, you’re all mine.”

  Rick’s heart swelled in excitement at the touch of her glove. She was close enough for him to smell her perfume. “What’s that you’re wearing? Your perfume?”

  “Paco Rabanne. It’s supposed to have warm, animalistic allure.”

  “Would it be improper for me to growl now?”

  “Yes. One should never growl before dinner, which, by the way, is ready. You’re late, you know.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I had to tie up a few loose ends so I wouldn’t be bothered the rest of the night.”

  “I didn’t expect you to be right on time. So, it really doesn’t matter. We’ll skip the cocktails and load up on wine at dinner.”

  “Are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?” Rick said, mock cautiously.

  “Absolutely not. This is your chance to earn my vote. If you can’t match me drink for drink, I’m voting for the other guy.”

  “In that case, expect to say hello to the legs under the table. Because that’s where you’re going, under the table,” Rick stopped as Lisa smirked. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right. I meant I’ll be drinking you under the table.”

  “Yeah, well, you politicians are all full of hot air. Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll get things going,” Lisa said, as she turned toward the kitchen.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Lisa selected a bottle of red wine out of a small rack on the counter and handed it to him. “Monsieur may pour the wine.” Lisa had removed her gloves and placed them out of the way.

  Rick unscrewed the twist top of the wine bottle. “I miss the good old days when wine bottles used cork. It added charm.” He poured equal amounts of wine into the two glasses on the table.

  Lisa got busy with the salad. “The change didn’t bother me a bit. A screw cap is so much easier to open, and it’s actually better for the wine during the aging process. Cork allows oxygen to leach in and can spoil the wine, caps won’t. A cap won’t disintegrate like cork either. I don’t have to worry about bits of junk floating in my wine.”

  “A screw cap just makes the wine seem cheap. I guess we just get use to things being a certain way and don’t like change. Still, I miss pulling the cork out, and the popping sound it makes.”

  Lisa turned, stuck her thumb in her mouth, and pulled it out, pop! “There. Does that set the mood for you?”

  Rick looked wide eyed and withheld his comments.

  “Have a seat,” she said, with a bowl of salad in each hand.

  He did as instructed, thanked Lisa when she placed the bowl in front of him, and waited for her to sit. “This looks interesting.”

  “I found some fresh strawberries at the grocery that inspired me. I mixed baby spinach with sliced strawberries, blue cheese, red onion, a sprinkle of poppy and sesame seeds, and a splash of simple vinaigrette.”

  Rick forked out a mouthful from the bowl. The crisp greens crunched as he chewed. The salad burst with flavor. “This is amazing. I don’t believe I’ve ever eaten salad this tasty before.”

  “Really? You’re not just saying that, are you?”

  “No, really. I have to admit I was a little less than eager to try it when you told me the ingredients, but this is terrific.”

  “Thanks,” Lisa said, after a drink of wine. “How are things at the office? How many know that you have one of them working in the campaign?”

  “You know, I haven’t exactly tried to hide you from the others, but I also didn’t put you on display either. Of course, my secretary, Sandra, knows, but perhaps the rest of the team—not so much.”

  “I met Sandra when I first went and picked up the keys for the loaner car. She was nice and very professional. Everyone else was so involved with their own work I was hardly noticed.

  “With the report coming out today, I’m sure they’ll wonder who this Lisa Goudard is who brought in over three hundred grand in less than two weeks.” Lisa excused herself from the table, removed a foil-covered pan from the oven, and laid it on the stove. “Have you thought how you’re going to break the news? I bet there’ll be a lot of questions why I came to work for you.”

  “I don’t have to go into a lot of detail. You’re just another grunt in the field working for my reelection, supporting the same issues as I do.”

  “Isn’t that like a black person in the nineteen sixties supporting segregation?”

  “All I have to say is you’re a Republican who wants to keep Spencer and the Living Party out of Washington. Even for Sub Ys I’m the obvious cho
ice over Spencer and his hate filled party. Just be ready to answer a few questions. Don’t go into any great detail. The campaign is about me, not you. And please note, I didn’t mean to sound egotistical in that last sentence.”

  Lisa chuckled. “You didn’t. I knew what you meant.”

  “Good, because I really want you to get me. You’ve been an unbelievable self-starter, and I don’t want any misunderstandings between us.”

  “My first two days on the job had me striking out more times than I want to admit. The pointers you gave me at our first lunch opened my eyes to what I was doing wrong. I’m getting contributes from nearly two thirds of my contacts now. But back to the campaign, don’t you think they’ll be some issues you won’t be able to brush away when it comes out a Sub Y is working for you?”

  “There might be problems with some of the more conservative volunteers who haven’t already left to support Spencer. It’s a chance I’m willing to take. I’m sure Spencer’s campaign will take the issue and try to twist it to their advantage.”

  Lisa nodded. “The door hadn’t even closed behind me when I left Ralph Meyers—the owner of The Galley—when he paged his secretary to get Spencer on the phone. I bet he was going to tell Spencer I was working for you.”

  “Really? Spencer’s probably had it in for you since the rally. This is really going to make his day.”

  “And the church. Spencer was there that day too.”

  Rick finished his last bite. “Yeah, I’ll never forget that morning. You made quite an impression on me. In fact, you made quite an impression on me the first time we met.”

  Lisa closed her eyes. “I remember that day in the therapist’s office. I was upset, confused, and a host of other things. I didn’t trust you at first, but you’re nothing like I had imagined. I’m very grateful for that.”

  “Neither one of us had any control of the situation that brought us together. I hate like hell things happened the way they did.” Rick paused to wipe his mouth with his napkin. “I am glad we met, though. And I want to put away as many negatives of the past away as we can.”

  Lisa smiled.

  “Hey, how about some more wine?” Rick asked, pointing his empty glass toward hers.

  “If there’s wine in the bottle you never have to ask, just pour. I’ll go fix our plates.” Lisa picked up the empty salad bowls and put them in the sink. She then went to the stove and removed the foil covering the rib roast. “We’re having prime rib. Do you like yours rare or more well-done?”

  “I like mine medium-medium-well,” Rick said, filling Lisa’s glass with wine.

  “Picky-picky,” she teased.

  Lisa sliced two thick pieces of rib steaks, and placed them on the plates, followed by potatoes from the oven. She set the plates on the table and retrieved a condiment tray from the refrigerator.

  “Everything’s here for the potatoes, except this white sauce,” she said, pointing to the bowl when she placed it by Rick. “That’s horseradish sauce for the prime rib.”

  “The meat looks fantastic. I just realized how hungry I am,” Rick said.

  “Don’t be shy—eat up. Don’t skimp on the wine. Tonight’s a two bottle minimum.” Lisa cut into her steak with her knife and stabbed the piece with her fork. Lifting pink-red meat to her mouth, she said, “I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. I’ve been on a red meat kick. The rarer the better.”

  “What happened? Did the fish I cooked the other night kill your taste for seafood?”

  “No, not at all. If I had to pick a reason it might have to do with the body makeup I’m using now. I switched from the makeup with the ATP to the one without.”

  “Any particular reason?” Rick asked.

  “Several things. The ATP makeup rubs off easier. It actually stained a favorite outfit. I didn’t want to risk that again. I’m also afraid if I don’t eat properly, properly for my new physiology, my organs will start to degrade. I’d like my body to stay as normal as possible. Plus, now that I can afford to buy makeup and food, I’m going to enjoy life to the fullest. That’s been my motto since the end of The Dark Times, and I’m not changing if I don’t have to.

  “But getting back to the craving for red meat, that started a week after I quit the ATP. Well, I haven’t stopped using ATP entirely. I still wear a patch at night a couple of times a week to give whatever it is my body needs that eating isn’t providing,” Lisa said, cutting another piece.

  “And I thought my life was complicated,” Rick said.

  “Are . . . are you making fun of me?” Lisa asked.

  “No, no, no. I mean it.” Rick put his knife and fork on his plate. “Please don’t think like that. You have to treat your life like your coping . . . with an illness. I hope that didn’t come out wrong. But I do feel sorry you have to make adjustments in the normal things in life I take for granted.”

  “Hey, I appreciate that. Let’s move this conversation to other topics. I’d like to hear about your childhood. Don’t run your mouth so much that you ignore your wine,” Lisa said, pointing to the glass.

  “I can talk and drink with the best of them,” Rick said, and gulped a mouthful.

  *

  The dishes soaked in soapy water in the sink. The second bottle of wine was empty next to two half-filled glasses beside the roses on the coffee table.

  Rick snuggled Lisa under his left arm and gazed longingly into her eyes. “Do you want to tell me why you’re wearing those gloves? I noticed you took them off to eat but put them back on when we sat on the couch.”

  “I’ve been wearing gloves ever since I started working for you. Some people get a little unnerved when they shake my hand because it feels cold. I didn’t want you to be repulsed if I touched you.”

  “I’ve held a woman’s cold hands before. Cold hands and feet aren’t turn offs for a men, you know.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.” Lisa made a slight attempt to pull away, but Rick held on and patted her shoulder until she relaxed. “I’ve tried to create a sense of warmth in the apartment. By the lighting, by the scented candles, any way I can. Even the perfume I’m wearing is meant to give you warm feelings.”

  “I can tell you’re a warm and sensual person just by spending time with you. You can’t create an illusion different from who you are inside. I’m a politician. I can read people. But I must say, everything you’ve done tonight has been special.”

  “The night isn’t over. That is, unless you want it to be,” Lisa said.

  “What do you mean?”

  Lisa pulled from his embrace, rose from the couch, and held out her hand. “Would you like to join me in my bedroom?”

  Rick took her hand. “Yes. I’d like that very much.”

  Lisa pulled him along, holding his hand behind the small of her back, and led him down the hall and next to her bed. “You go in the bathroom and undress. I’ll be waiting for you under the covers.” Rick opened his mouth to speak, but Lisa put her finger to his lips. “We can talk later.”

  Rick left her by the bed and went into the adjoining bathroom. He began to unbutton his shirt and caught his reflection in the mirror. Things certainly had moved faster than he expected. Not that he was the least bit disappointed. In fact, she had comfortably handled the situation.

  He felt embarrassed looking at his reflection. A shit-eating grin slowly curled around the corners of his mouth. He felt his cock stiffen but really didn’t want to leave the bathroom with a full erection. He wanted to maintain some sense of control. He didn’t allow women to take control in the bedroom.

  He checked his teeth for any food particles he might have missed and left the bathroom, turning off the light before opening the door.

  Soft jazz played in the background. The filtered glow from a lamp in the corner gave enough light for him to see everything that was about to unfold. He preferred it that way. He’d never been a fan of making love in total darkness.

  “I’m waiting for you,” Lisa said, desire in her soft voice. />
  Rick climbed in the opposite side of the bed, feeling the mattress give way under his weight. “Hey, is this a waterbed?”

  “Yes it is. Why? Does it bother you?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never, uh, slept on a waterbed. How long have you had a waterbed?”

  “I bought it earlier this week. I told you I wanted this night to be special.”

  “Kinky . . . I guess.”

  “Not kinky at all. I bought a waterbed so I could control the bed’s temperature. While you were in the bathroom it’s been warming my body. I told you I didn’t want you to be turned off by my cold skin.”

  “Sounds like you thought of everything. But what about, you know, when I’m inside you.”

  Lisa reached for a bottle of lubricant on the nightstand. “For that, I have this. It’s a lubricant that warms with friction.”

  “Does it work?”

  “I don’t know, Rick. I haven’t been intimate with anyone else since I was attacked.”

  A mountain of sorrows weighed down her voice. Lisa had been reduced to something less than human. Here was this beautiful girl who had gone from having any man she wanted to becoming someone afraid of rejection because of an affliction she had fallen victim to. Everything she had done tonight was to create the illusion she was normal. Everything she had done tonight had been planned to the finest detail just for him.

  Rick’s eyes welled with tears. He now understood Lisa was starving. Starving for attention. Starving for affection. Desperately reaching out for acceptance, and to be desired.

  “I want you to know how incredible tonight has been. I’ve never met another woman like you, Lisa. Your honesty and your frankness have caused me to search inside myself, to question who and what I am. My life is always in the fast lane, and a lot of the time I bulldoze my way through it without considering the consequences. I’ve stepped on people. I’ve hurt people. I may have never intentionally tried to, but because of my own selfishness, I didn’t care if I did.