My lucky Strike

My Lucky Strike

by
Claudia Y. Burgoa

All rights reserved. No part of this
publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded,
distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage
and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether
electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the
publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for
review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction and any
resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or
occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines
are created from the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

Literally Alpaca Illustrations, LLC.

Centennial, CO 80111

Smashwords Edition

Clarissa Yeo

Ellen McPhee pestered me all night during
K&W Christmas party. The woman was attractive, petite, and
blond with big breasts, any man’s dream. But I wasn’t in the mood
today, until she wore me down—
I’m human
. I agreed to meet
her upstairs, even though my little brother hated when I hooked up
with his employees. Because that became a hassle for him.

‘“
Mr. Knight,” he didn’t call me,
’ was
the most common complaint.

Taking a last gulp of champagne, I headed to
the elevators. My hand met a delicate set of fingers touching the
same up-button. I looked down, noticing a pair of silver high
heels, with pretty toes matching the burnt orange color of the hand
nails I spotted seconds ago. My gaze began to travel up her body,
noticing a pair of long beautiful legs, then a black dress hugging
her tight. Backless, my lower body noticed. My brain stopped my
hand from reaching her bare skin. With her back toward me, I
couldn’t see her face. However I got to admire her fine backside,
which included a messy up-do holding her hair with loose curls
around, covering some spots of her sexy long neck. My body wanted
to exchange the previous date with the blond and go with this hot
number instead.

Though I tamed it. The bell of the elevator
made her turn my way, finally connecting her gaze with mine for a
moment. As if I was invisible, she headed inside the elevator. A
flowery whiff trapped me and pulled me toward her, feeling like one
of Pavlov's dogs ready to get his treat. She pushed number five,
while I pushed seven. First floor, now the second and the elevator
car shook a couple of times coming to a halt. The lights went off
and the emergency ones kicked in. My two options were to check the
elevator and try to fix it, or take the opportunity to know Miss
Pretty face and Hot Body. The latter excited me, but before I could
give her one of my signature lines, she talked.

“Oh no, no. This is not a good thing,” she
said. Her startled voice matched her face perfectly, frightened but
pretty. Those light brown eyes opened wide. I smiled, but instead
of returning it, she narrowed her eyes and continued babbling. “You
should worry about this, be afraid.” Her hands fidgeted with the
fabric of her dress. “Have you heard of claustrophobia?”

I nodded, debating if I should fix the
elevator or let her continue with her rant in hopes that we’d end
up in her bed—or mine.
Ellen who
?

“Well I invented it.” She scratched the tip
of her tiny nose and wrinkled it. “Others stole it from me. Let’s
see, who’s in charge of New York, Thor, Captain America…. Don’t
look at me like that.” Hands on her hips, she stared at me. “We
need a superhero to save the day. Because soon the excess sweat
will start, followed by a full blown panic attack. You still think
this is funny?”

“I used to be a hero.” I stood straight up
and puffed my chest like superman. But her frown made me chuckle
and couldn’t keep up with the charade. The girl was funny and had a
spark, even while there was plenty of panic in those eyes. “May I
offer my services; I think I can take care of the bad guys.”

“And the metal box of doom?” A ghostly smile
showed up in her face. Her pouty lips begged for a kiss―I
abstained. The terrain wasn’t secure yet for her to be taken and
mauled—
down boy
. She sized me up and down, shook her head
and laughed―a full blown belly laugh.

“What are your qualifications?”

What?
I mouthed and touched my heart
with both hands feigning hurt.

“Yeah, I can’t accept those services without
knowing beforehand that you’ve really done this kind of job.”
Tilting her head to both sides, she continued. “You certainly
aren’t scrawny, but it’s hard to confirm with the tux.” Pretty girl
gave me an up and down eye glance. “Looks deceive, you could have
been using a double during duty and I would never know.”

“Now the real question is, why the change of
careers?” She tapped her chin with her index finger. “Was it
because you had to wear tights, or the cape, a very unsafe
accessory, an Achilles heel for superheroes.”

“Who are you?” I gasped for air while
laughing, my brain set on her humor, and her pretty body didn’t
allow me to say anything smart. “You guessed, the yellow tights—not
my color.” I whispered. “They made my ass look flat.” I composed
myself, while discreetly turning to look at it―a move that made her
laugh. “I appreciate if you don’t divulge my confession, I faked my
death. I warned everyone—twice.” I held three fingers and she
chuckled. Her brown-green eyes began to loosen up the tension.
Victory
. “
Change the outfit or I’ll disappear
.” No
one listened. “Now I’m a regular bystander, with a few superpowers
left.” I placed a finger on my lips. “Shh, don’t tell anyone but I
stole them from the supply closet before leaving the premises.”

Not only her body, but her personality had me
wanting to be next to her and drink whatever she had. I took off
the tux jacket and undid the bowtie while enjoying her expression.
A combo between wanting to take her shoes off and run away or stay
and enjoy the show. Those laughing, crinkled eyes made me want to
convince her of the second one and take it to the next level.
Slowly I took my vest off, handed it to her, and then proceeded
with the shirt. My company demanded me to be fit. I had a better
body than Captain America—comic or actor. When I showed her my
biceps she gulped with widened eyes.

I gave her a peek of my abs, not much, but
she got the idea of how scrawny I wasn’t.
Your turn
, my
insides screamed, but it seemed she was human and didn’t read
minds. Hoping that she’d come with me after the doors opened, I
pulled the phone from ‘the metal box of doom’ and talked to whoever
was on the other side. Her shallow breathing had calmed, but it
appeared that she didn’t take well to enclosed places. They gave us
a ten to twenty minute estimate, and her body loosened with the
news. No rush, I wanted to tell them but desisted. I placed my
jacket on the floor and offered her to sit on it.

“You took the job,” she said. I sat next to
her and offered her a mint. It was that or a condom. The latter
would look rude. “I hate big crowds and loud parties, yet I came
tonight. Lack of judgment, right? Then my second choice brought me
into this mess.” She said, and twirled one of the loose curls
around her ear. “I should delegate the
decisions
department
to someone else. I suck at it.”

“No you made the right choice,” I answered
while taking my phone out. “It’s been years since I rescued
someone, anyone. I need the practice in case there’s an alien
invasion. Would you like me to take the decision making
position?”

“I’m not usually like this,” she said, as if
we had slept together on our first date, but we hadn’t gotten to
first base yet. Not even a kiss. The girl came from another planet,
and surprisingly I wanted her to take me to her mother-ship. Then
she snickered, going back to my question. “
Decision making
position, hmm, nope, haven’t decide if I’ll fire myself yet. The
paradox: to make a choice to stop making decisions. Lovely, I’m
screwed. Now what do we do, hero?”

Kiss, make out, or perhaps use my
condom?
My phone didn’t have enough reception to play a movie.
I decided to play a genius mix based on one of her favorite bands,
which were pretty much the same as mine. I discovered she had a
huge obsession with eighties movies and enjoyed classical music
too. I pulled the keyboard application on my phone and began to
play the famous Moonlight Sonata. One hand pressed to her chest in
awe and the other touched my arm. She gifted me a bright smile
which made her eyes twinkle and turn greenish.
She had a
power?
I stopped and touched her fingers. A super charged
current of electricity ran between us and my body wanted to ignite
an entire country with her.

Cautiously, like a hunter I maneuvered with
vigilance. A kiss and she’d be clay in my hands. No such luck.
Another jolt from the elevator car made it move―stupid thing. I
stood up and helped her stand from the floor. She was tall, around
six inches, maybe seven, shy from my six three. Those heels weren’t
as big as I predicted. I picked up her shoes from the floor and
handed them to her, and she thanked me with a smile. The perfect
moment to taste those pouty lips; however, the doors opened on the
third floor where the concierge, manager, and other hotel personal
waited for us. We thanked them and made our way to floor number
five using the emergency stairs. She didn’t want to risk spending
the night inside an elevator.

When we reached the fifth floor, I opened the
emergency door for her to go in, but before she left me standing, I
lightly grabbed her elbow. “Not so fast, beautiful, you’re skipping
a step.” She lightly turned toward me, and now we almost faced each
other. Her cheeks were two or three shades lighter than red. “The
hero gets a kiss after the rescue.”

“Silly me,” she said, and placed her lips
over my cheek. I moved fast enough to receive a half kiss on the
lips. Wide eyes, she froze for a second before moving away and
waving. “Have a great life, hero.”

“I will if you give me your name and number.”
I kept holding the door open waiting for her to throw something my
way. “You read the stories, watched the movies, don’t mess up with
the script, babe. Destiny brought us together.”

“Serendipity,” she said loud, and quickly she
covered her mouth with her hand shrugging. “If it’s meant to be,
you’ll see me again, so long for now.” Her composed voice lingered
for a few more minutes with her sweet aroma. I waited until she got
inside a room, and then I went back to the emergency stairs,
heading down.

I made my way back to the party, where my
brothers and I drank another beer and visited with Dad. A month
later serendipity brought us back, at JFK airport where a plane
would take her to Sweden, while I just landed in America. It was
worth taking a commercial plane instead of flying my own plane. She
declined my request for a name or a number, only a peck on the lips
and a beautiful smile. Two months later. Bam, my lucky strike.

Late afternoon on a Saturday I went to the
pub while Mom and Mitch—my twin brother—finished their acquisitions
for his restaurant in New York. There she was, curly brown-reddish
hair, light jacket covering her canary yellow dress, and shoes that
matched perfectly. No boyfriend, girlfriend or husband. The table
contained a salad bowl; and a plate with fish and chips—cliché
English food. When I approached, I startled her with my voice. “Is
this seat taken?”

Not waiting for an answer, I pulled the chair
next to her and sat. Ignoring her stare, I signal the waitress who
rushed to take my order. Beer on tap and fish and chips. By then I
understood that this pretty girl’s eyes changed color with her
mood, from puzzled, to excited and finally annoyed. All in under
ten seconds—adorable.