Taming Theresa (7 page)

The votives had burned low, their soft light
still playing over the walls. I guess I'll have to get out soon;
this water is starting to cool off. Sliding between those crisp
clean sheets with a good book sounds wonderful. Probably be sound
asleep before I get to page three.

Heavy footsteps, muffled by carpeting,
clomped down the hall and something thumped against the wall.

“What was that?” she whispered, looking over
her shoulder towards the room behind her.

A deep voice sang out, “Come haste to the
wedding ye friends and ye neighbors.” There was a loud belch, then
the voice crooned louder, “The lo-vers their bliss can no lo-nger
de-lay.”

“Oh, my god. Some nut’s out there singing.”
She heard more heavy footsteps, then a door opening, and slamming
shut.

“Come, come one and all, attend to my call,
and revel in pleasures that never can cloy,” he drew out the last
notes. “That’s for damned sure.”

“Oh, crap. Some drunk’s in the next room. I’m
so glad I locked that door.”

A cell phone ring tone was the next thing she
heard and the phone's owner answering, just a few feet away.

The "Hel-lo?" sounded deep and drawn out.
"Yeah they had a room. Sure, sure. You can stop worrying, Vince.
I'm not driving anywhere. Cancelation or whatever, I got their last
room."

“Oh my god, it's him! It's that guy, John.
What's he doing here?” There was a pause before she heard him
continue.

"Hell, I don't know. How would I know if
they're gay? Danny and Denny, they’re nice guys; they got this old
dump fixed up nice. Vince, I'm looking at a pile of pillows here
with little tassels and flowers on the dresser. So maybe they are
gay. Who cares, long as they serve coffee and breakfast in the
morning.” After a moment John said, “Thanks again for the offer.
Appreciate it, Bud. Better I just stay here in town tonight. You
know you're my favorite cop in the whole world?" Another pause
ensued. “I'm fine. No, not drunk. Well, maybe a little. Great
party. Poor Jack and now Vandersmoot goes and gets engaged. Who
would've thunk, huh? Okay Bud, talk to you tomorrow. Thanks."

“He’d better not try to come in here.” It was
her last thought before the knob was forcefully jiggled, rattled,
clicked, and the door banged open, slamming against the side of the
tub.

Theresa smothered a shriek, as John Van Wart,
after groping for the light switch, entered unsteadily, and made
straight for the toilet and settled himself in front. Then she
heard the rasp of a zipper.

“Oh my god,” she mouthed. He’s taking his
thing out. Oh no! There it is. Fascinated, her eyes grew wider as
she saw him clearly in the mirror.

“With reason we taste of each heart stir-ring
plea-sure,” he sang with obvious delight.

Oh my god, he's bigger than ... much bigger
than Tony!

“With reason we drink of the full flow-ing
bo-wl.” Then a strong stream thundered into the toilet. He sighed
heavily, grunted, and then farted.

What a pig!

John tucked himself back in, the zipper made
a return trip, and the toilet flushed. Then he dramatically spread
his arms wide in front of the mirror as he finished, “Then come at
our bidding to this happy wedding, no care shall obtrude here, our
bliss to annoy. Come see rural felicity, which love and innocence
ever en-joy,” this at full volume.

He looked up as he rinsed his hands and
smiled at Theresa in the mirror. “Hello.”

She squeezed herself as far as she could
against the back of the tub. “Get out!” she hissed. Her bubbles
were vanishing as the water cooled.

John spun around and grinned wickedly. "Is
that you, Theresa?”

“You bastard! Get out of my bathroom!

He crossed his arms and leaned against the
countertop. “It’s my bathroom too,” he said calmly, looking pleased
with himself.

“They told me that side was vacant,” she
implored. “Please leave.”

“Candles around the bathtub, nice touch.” He
reached for the bottle and glanced at the label, nodding his
approval. “Wine? Hmmm. Another nice touch.”

“Go ahead, take it! Just get out,
please.”

“Let me see.” He held it up to the light.
“Wait a minute. It seems you didn’t wait for me.” He threw her a
reproving glance. “That wasn’t very nice. What would your mother
say?”

“She’d tell you to get the hell out of my
bathroom.”

“Tisk, tisk. Such language. And from such a
beautiful woman.”

“Get out, now. I’ll report you to the
owners.” Now she was starting to shiver.

“Report away.” He gestured toward her side of
the suite. “Go ahead. This I wanna see.” Taking up the bottle, he
shakily filled the glass and sat carefully on the side of her tub
before drinking.

“I’ll call the police.”

“Hmmmm, not a bad little wine.” He looked at
her over the rim. “You forget. I have friends on the force.”

“That’s illegal,” she said indignantly,
huddled in a ball, her arms shielding her breasts.

He sipped thoughtfully. “Probably.”

“I’ll tell my father!” She was getting
desperate now.

“That we have adjoining rooms? I don’t think
so,” he said chuckling.

“If you won't get out of this room then at
least have the decency to get me my robe and turn your back so I
can get out. Please!"

It was then that one of those idiotic ideas
came to him. It was precisely the kind of idea which occurs to
those who’ve had "rather more ale than is good for them".

"Hmmmm, this is an interesting development,”
he affected a thoughtful, Jimmy Stewart voice. “Your robe you say?
Ah yes, I see."

She glared at him. "Yes, I would like my robe
please, and I would like you to get the hell out of this
bathroom."

"This is just like the scene in that movie,
you know, ‘It's a Wonderful Life’ with Jimmy Stewart and Donna
Reed. She's lost her robe and is hiding behind the bushes.” He
gestured at the tub with his wine glass. “You, of course, are
hiding behind those bubbles. What’s left of them.”

He drank thoughtfully, then continued, “Jimmy
Stewart's got the robe and won't give it to her. Keeps saying
things like, ‘This is an interesting situation we've got here.
Doesn't happen to a man every day. At least not in Bedford Falls it
doesn't.’ Course, this is Pippin's Grove, not Bedford Falls. Well,
there you are in the bushes, or in the bubbles, and I'm out here,
with your robe. You see the similarities." He sat back very
satisfied with his ability to retrieve all those details from his
memory and nearly toppled into the water. “Whoops.”

Rescuing the wobbling bottle he asked, “Are
you sure you don't want some of this? It's very good wine.”

"No, no, no. You can have the wine. Have it
all. I don't care, just get out of here!"

“You know Theresa; we should really get to
know each other a little better. After all we’ll be together in the
wedding party."

“Knowing you any better than I do already is
the last thing I want.”

"I think you're angry. Hey, I apologize for
that unfortunate little episode at Paulding's Rest yesterday.” He
drained the wine glass, stood, and set it on the counter by the
sink. “It’s not my fault you looked so incredibly hot. You looked
just like a stripper. Hey, can you really make meatballs even
better than your mom?"

He never saw the washcloth coming. It sailed
through the air, striking his face with a sodden splat spraying the
mirror with scented bubbles. Like a fitted mask, it hung there
blocking his vision until it slid from his face and landed with a
soft plop at his feet.

Theresa vaulted from the tub in a flurry of
warm spray, bubbles, and pink skin. In two athletic bounds, she'd
crossed to where her towel and robe hung on hooks.

Through a soapy mist, he caught the site of
swirling towel and robe as Theresa struggled to cover herself while
water cascaded down her shapely legs. The tile beneath was so
slick, she might have been dancing in a pool of olive oil. Spinning
into the robe, she slipped, lost her footing, and with a shriek,
went down hard.

"Damn, damn, damn!" she sputtered
helplessly.

“You've got to stop hitting me like this,"
John said, wiping his face.

Theresa struggled to rise, but only slipped
again, frantically tugging at towel and robe to cover up. She
whimpered. "Will you please help me up? I think I've broken my
ankle. This is all your fault!"

"Me? My fault? I was innocently coming in to
pee. How was I supposed to know you were in here?"

"I did lock the door. That should have been a
clue."

"Yeah, I wondered why it was locked. They
open pretty easy though, if you jiggle them just right."

"Would you please, please help me up? Don't
just stand there like an idiot."

"Sure Theresa. I'm sorry." He bent and
sliding his arms beneath her back, easily pulled her to her
feet.

For a moment, they swayed together, she
balancing all her weight on one uninjured foot, he still gently
rolling on waves of alcohol. The force of gravity took over.
Tumbling in a heap on the floor, he found himself with the lovely,
half-naked woman sprawled on top of him.

Theresa was much smaller than John had
imagined. Her scent and feel of her breasts pressing against his
chest intoxicated him in a new way. Holding her warm moist body, he
looked at her trembling lips, then her melting brown eyes, and was
lost. Gathering her close, he gently began to kiss her, and then
deepened it. Burying his hands in her curls, he stroked her lips
until she responded like a wild thing in his arms. His tongue
thrust deep into her sweet mouth as she rubbed against him.

Theresa recovered first. "Oh my god! I can't
believe this is happening to me.” She scrambled off his lap and
wriggled away.

“Why me, Lord?” John muttered through
clenched teeth.

“Oh no! It’s really swollen.”

“You got that right,” he muttered.

“Why do you have to ruin everything?"

“Hey, I didn’t ruin anything. You’re the one
that left.” John laid spread eagle on the floor trying to
recover.

"I may have broken my ankle. It really hurts.
Look! It's all swollen."

"Okay, okay, I accept the full blame for
everything.” He sat up gingerly. “Let me help you up. If you try to
walk in there alone, you'll slip again. I'll be more careful, I
promise."

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Here, I've got it." John got up and crossed
to where her towel was heaped on the floor. Spreading it over the
puddle like Sir Walter Raleigh, he lifted her up, guided her
through the door, and helped her onto the bed.

Leaning back against the pillows, Theresa
groaned as he slipped a pillow under her leg.

"Can you move your foot and wiggle your
toes?"

“It really hurts." Theresa winced as she
swiveled her foot back and forth.

"Good.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I just meant that probably nothing’s broken,
just sprained or something. Best thing is to put some ice on it."
He looked around the room. "Is there a refrigerator with some ice
around here somewhere?"

“There was one of those small icemakers
downstairs in the dining room near the kitchen.”

"Okay, just stay put and I’ll go find some
ice,” John said getting up from the bed.

"What do you mean stay put? I can barely
walk. Where am I going to go?"

“Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”

On the bedside table, the telephone rang,
startling them both. Without thinking, he snatched up the receiver
and barked, "Hello!"

"Oh! Excuse me. I must have called the wrong
room.”

“Who is this?” John asked, perplexed.

Theresa grabbed his arm frowning, “Is that my
father?” she whispered.

“This is Dennis, remember me?”

“No, it’s not!” he said sharply to Theresa,
twisting out of her grasp.

“Really, I’m Dennis at the front desk. Is
this Mr. Van Wart?”

“Don’t let him know you’re in my room,” she
pleaded.

“Yeah this is Van Wart and I'm in the room
with Theresa.”

She punched him on the arm.

“You really have got to stop hitting me.
Leave me alone.” John scowled at her and shifted out of reach.

Dennis chuckled nervously. "Sorry, I didn't
mean to disturb you.”

“No, it’s not you.”

Theresa punched him again. “Is it Tony?” she
hissed.

“Is it Tony?” John mimicked her, making a
face.

“No this really is Dennis, um, you know, at
the front desk. Is everything all right up there?”

“Who is it?” She tried to grab the phone from
him.

“Don’t! Stop that, I’m trying to talk
here.”

“Is this a bad time, Mr. Van Wart? Should I
call back later?”

Through gritted teeth she whispered, “It’s my
room, give me the phone.”

“Whatever you say.” John thrust the phone at
her.

"I just wondered if everything was all
right,” said Dennis nervously. “There have been some strange noises
coming from your room.”

Immediately Theresa tossed the phone over to
John. “You talk to him, please!”

John caught it and gave her an eye roll. "Hey
Denny, you guys got some ice down there? Theresa’s had a little
accident. Slipped and fell when she was getting out of the tub.

“Did she really! That’s dreadful.”

“Think she sprained her ankle. That's why I'm
here in her room. I had to help her up.”

"Oh dear! Please, everybody remain calm. We
have some 'boo boo' ice for just such emergencies. I’ll be right
up. Oh my goodness, oh dear,” Denny’s falsetto voice trailed
off.

"No, I’ll come down for it. You guys have a
nice night, thanks." He dropped the phone onto its cradle. "I'm
going down stairs for some ice. Be right back," he said and took
off through the bathroom his bedroom, and down the stairs.

Locating the refrigerator, he perused the
assortment of wines and cheeses deposited by other B & B
guests. Bunch of artsy-fartsy types stay here. Ice, I need ice.
Opening the small ice freezer next to it, he pulled out two round
frozen jell packs. They were labeled "Boo Boo Ice” with little
smiley faces. “Boo boo ice, it's perfect.”