The Day of Legion (6 page)

“Dude, take a peek.”

He decided to humor Patrick. He turned around slowly as if looking to the door, but passed his eyes over the group of ladies in the corner. He found himself staring.

“Hey, the idea is to not let them know you’re looking,” Patrick whispered.

“I know the brunette from somewhere.” John answered.

“Where, your dreams?” Patrick scoffed.

John thought for a moment, then realized who she was. The beautiful nurse who came into his room when he was admitted to hospital in the...other...life.
My god, she’s beautiful
.
If I were to create a perfect woman that would be her.

“Check out the brunette,” Patrick said, a little too loudly, and one of the women in the group scowled at him.

She mouthed a word to him from across the bar.

“I think she called you a Neanderthal,” John laughed, feeling like a teenager for a moment.

“Is Neanderthal ‘girl code’ for ‘hunk’?” Patrick asked.

John didn’t hear his last question. He was completely taken by the brunette nurse. He wanted to go talk to her. He had given up on bar pick-ups, but there was nothing meaningless about this woman. He could see himself with her forever.

“Yo, Hugh Hefner,” Patrick called to him.

He snapped out of his fantasy and turned to him. “I have to meet that brunette nurse,” he said.

“How do you know she’s a nurse?”

“Oh, I think I’ve seen her at the hospital,” John replied, suddenly realizing he couldn’t exactly tell Patrick about his other life, where his son had died, then, when he hit rock bottom, a good soul had offered to change it all for him. Although he had met this woman before, in
this
life, he hadn’t.

He shook his head at the mess in his mind, then refocused on the brunette. She ordered a glass of wine and leaned on the bar, looking around.

She caught him looking at her. He looked away quickly, then, seconds later, looked back. She was still looking at him with a friendly smile on her face. He knew he had better go talk to her before he lost his nerve or Patrick said something embarrassing to her.

He was unsure of what to say. It had been a long time. When he had been in this situation in the past, either he or his “target”, or both, had been drunk. This was a beautiful, sober angel.

Before he could say anything she smiled and said, “Do I know you from somewhere? You’re very familiar.”

John smiled back. He was about to reply when she cut him off.

“Oh, that sounds like a corny pick up line, doesn’t it?”

He grew slightly in confidence. “So you’re trying to pick me up, are you?”

His confidence grew quite a bit more when she giggled.

“You’re familiar to me as well. I guess we have seen each other in the past, just not noticed.”

“I would have noticed you,” she replied. Her eyes were warm and friendly.

He felt his heart speed up. He couldn’t believe how attractive she was up close. From a distance she was beautiful; up close, she was stunning, even though she wore very little makeup. She was olive-skinned, and the cream, knee-length summer dress she wore accentuated the curves of her slim figure and brought out the deep blue of her eyes.

The thin straps of her dress sat perfectly on her shoulders, showing her cleavage in a classy, understated way. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, which fell to between her shoulder blades.

“Can I get you a drink?” she asked, making him realize he was just standing there gaping.

“Oh, ahh, a beer would be nice. Thank you.”

She ordered a beer from the bartender, who was standing right in front her, ignoring another patron who was waving a twenty dollar bill over his head to get the barkeep’s attention. The bartender was staring at her, as mesmerized by her as John was.

She handed the beer to him and suggested they sit outside. The sun was still high enough for it to be warm. She mentioned something about melanoma, but John was already heading out the door to find a table. The last he saw of Patrick, one of the nurse’s friends was shaking her head and saying no quite emphatically to him.

Her name was Rachael Lewis. She was a nurse at a local private hospital. She was born, schooled, and lived nearby. She found that quite boring; John found it endearing. A satisfied woman; something he found very attractive.

They talked for a while before being joined by her friends and Patrick, who didn’t seem at all fazed that all three of Rachael’s friends had turned him down. They were all from the hospital and were out celebrating Angie’s promotion; she was the small blond who was the first to reject Patrick’s advances. John found her personality grating and thought she looked like a ferret, but pretended she was cute to impress Rachael.

As they drank more and relaxed, Patrick pulled his digital camera out and took photos of them all. He snapped them all laughing, holding their glasses out, making stupid toasts to each other and in various stages of inebriation.

Before John realized it, he and Rachael were sitting inside by themselves, the others having left at different times. They shared a bottle of wine and talked more.

Patrick had managed to attach himself to a middle-aged redhead who kept referring to herself in the third person.
The cougar is on the prowl tonight. The cougar is thirsty.
John found her repulsive, especially next to Rachael; she radiated class. The ‘cougar’ reminded him of a female version of himself back when he had trawled the bars looking for women for sex.

She was dressed in tight black leatherette pants, black high heels and a blouse that barely covered her breasts and exposed her belly. He thought her boobs looked fake, but didn’t really care. More power to Patrick if that’s what he wanted. He guessed that was the case, as Patrick escorted the ‘cougar’ out the door and headed in the direction of home with his hand on her butt. The last thing John heard was her voice trailing off.
The cougar is purring.

After everyone had left, Rachael sat next to him with her hand on his knee. She gradually got closer over the last half hour, and felt comfortable enough to touch him lightly. He was quite happy with that, and returned the caress with his hand on her forearm.

He felt a little nervous about how he would end the evening when she leaned in closer and whispered in his ear. “Take me home.”

“Oh, sure,” he replied. “Where do you live?”

She laughed, and he thought he could listen to that laugh all night.

“I meant, take me home to your place.”

He felt his face redden.

“Are you blushing?” she asked, half laughing at him.

“Yes. I am.”

She laughed a little louder as he took her hand and walked to the street. His heart was beating fast and he was nervous. This was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and he didn’t want to mess it up by making a move on her; what if she meant she wanted coffee at his place?

On the walk home, they changed from holding hands to arms around each other’s waists. She nuzzled into his neck and lightly kissed it. He felt his excitement rise and hoped the bulge in his pants wasn’t too conspicuous. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything.

They reached the apartment building and entered the reception area. At the elevator, Rachael reached around and placed her hand lightly on his groin and pressed gently. She returned his look with a smile that told him, no, she didn’t just want coffee.

When they walked past Patrick’s apartment door, John was sure he heard the redhead growling like a cat, but Rachael didn’t notice or didn’t care. An image of the naked cougar on all fours scratching at Patrick’s leg almost made him laugh; if he wasn’t so nervous he probably would have.

Inside, he poured them both glasses of water. He turned and looked across the apartment, saw her sitting on the long, white sofa. From where he was standing, he saw her from side profile with the light behind her. She was looking out the open folding doors at the night sky. She looked absolutely perfect. Her golden brown skin contrasted against the pale fabric of the sofa. She had one leg crossed over the other, and one of her shoes was hanging off. She sensed him watching and turned her gaze toward him.

She inhaled deeply and slowly. “Come to me.”

John walked over and gave her one of the glasses of water. She took it and placed it on the glass table next to the sofa. She then took his glass and placed it next to hers. She took his hand and pulled him toward her and at the same time moved herself into a lying position. He lay on top of her, his chest against hers.

She kissed him tenderly, slowly pushing her tongue into his mouth, pressing it against the tip of his tongue. He responded by swirling his tongue around hers and stroking her face gently.

They kissed and talked for fifteen minutes before he led her to the bedroom. She pushed him on the bed and remained standing, looking down at him. She began to sway gently, dancing to music only she could hear. Slowly, sensually, Rachael slipped her dress off and let it slip to the floor. Her naked breasts were pert and smooth. John looked at her nipples, erect and tight.

She slid her panties off and stepped out of them before crawling over him until their faces were level. She laid her naked body on top of his. He felt her breath on his neck, causing a tingle down his spine.

Slowly she moved down to his groin, undid his belt and zipper, grasped his erection with her hand and took him in her mouth. He arched his back at the sudden warmth and watched as she moved her lips up and down.

They made love slowly and intensely. She read his desires and responded with her body and hands. He caressed her, touched her gently and brought her to climax easily and often.

John couldn’t remember when he had made such passionate, heated love. Even in the beginning stages with Janine, their lovemaking wasn’t this intense. When they had finished and Rachael lay next to him, he watched her breasts rise and fall as she breathed slowly, slipping quietly into sleep. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, dreamed of, been with.

* * * *

Around three in the morning, Rachael woke up. She slid quietly out of bed and retrieved her clothes, holding them in her hands. She stood at the end of the bed and looked at him, snoring quietly as he slept. She smiled and slipped out the door and dressed in the lounge to avoid waking him.

She helped herself to a bottle of water from the refrigerator, glanced at the photos of Jason stuck to the door with little heart-shaped magnets, then walked out of the apartment into the hall way, quietly closing his front door.

She got to the elevator and pressed the Down button. Behind her, Patrick’s door opened. She didn’t hear a thing. A faint scent of formaldehyde, then blackness.

Chapter Five

It wasn’t so much a knock on the door; more of a pounding. It woke John suddenly. He could hear voices shouting, muffled by the walls, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. He heard a huge thud and crash, then voices of men in his apartment. He leapt out of bed, quickly glancing at the clock. Ten a.m.

As he hurriedly put on his pants, his heart pounding, the bedroom door came crashing in, kicked nearly off its hinges. A man in black rushed into the room, pointing a high powered rifle directly at him. Another man followed, then two more. All had firearms pointed at him; ‘POLICE’ printed boldly in white on the front of their ballistic vests.

“Police!” the first man shouted. “Police! Get on the ground!”

John froze, afraid. His legs were shaking and his body refused to do what his mind told it to, which was to comply with the man with a rifle pointed at his face. The last officer through the door was armed with a Glock, which he holstered and moved quickly over to him.

He grabbed John by his neck and pulled him violently to the floor, before ramming one knee into his back. “Give me your hands!” he shouted. “Give me your hands, now!”

John shouted in pain. He managed to get his hands into the small of his back where the officer was indicating by tapping it with his handcuffs. Once in position, the handcuffs were applied, quickly and too tight. The clicks of the metal teeth of the cuffs engaging made a sound John had only heard in movies and on television. His whole body jerked at the pain and he received a punch in the back of the head for moving.

“No resistance!” came the stern instruction.

“I’m not resisting, you’re hurting me!” he shouted “The handcuffs are too tight and what the hell is this about? Did you guys make sure you had the right apartment before you kicked my door in and assaulted me?”

He knew none of the police cared about him. The first three that burst through the bedroom door walked straight back out as soon as he was shackled. The two who remained picked him up and sat him on the bed. One was dressed in the same black garb as the others; his rifle now slung behind him. The second officer was wearing a suit, obviously a detective. He was older and appeared a little calmer than the boys in black, but he looked mean.

He placed some papers, stapled in the corner and folded in half, on John’s lap.

“John Hansen?” the detective asked.

Before he could confirm, deny or protest the officer continued.