Keeping Charlie Alive Ch. 01

"Please go up the VIP Lounge," said the pretty dark-haired girl, as she pointed to a sign.

He was almost given the bum's rush out of the lounge and taken to a business jet which had one engine already running. He was no sooner in the doorway, than the idle engine lit up and the door shut. He found a seat upon which there was a large envelope with 'Mr. Charles A. White' written in large, if hasty, letters.

The seatbelt sign lit up and he settled down. He opened his pockets and placed all his new documents in a neat pile, opened the envelope and took a new set of documents, including passport, driver's license, firearms permit and miscellaneous detritus which would be found in a variety of pockets, turn-ups and the more obscure corners of ones life. He settled down to read his life story which, rather to his surprise, resembled his life quite closely. He dozed again, out of sheer boredom.

"Fasten Seatbelts" flashed the sign. Charlie checked his. He paid little heed to the movement of the aircraft as they came in to land. With what seemed like indecent haste, the door opened.

"You're here," said a voice. The ascent was different, he noticed.

"Where's here?" said Charlie in a tired voice.

"Montreal Dorval Airport," came the reply. "There's a car waiting for you."

A uniformed figure helped him out of the cabin door and it was only a few paces to a large, warm, dark, anonymous car with a nice perfume in the air.

"Hello," said a voice. "I'm Denise and I can answer a few of your questions; we didn't get a great deal of warning, but I think you will be comfortable. Tonight you will be staying at an 'otel and tomorrow you will be driven to the College campus; you, Sir, are going on a course, or so I am told."

"Can we talk about it tomorrow please?" asked Charlie. "I've been shot-at, chased half way round the globe, bored rigid on aeroplanes, not eaten much that's any good and I'm absolutely shagged out." He looked at Denise and the street lights just about showed a handsome woman of indeterminate age. "Can we meet for Breakfast or something – Please?"

"OK, Charlie," she said. Her voice had a lilting quality. "Breakfast it is. You will not be disturbed; a team is looking out for you."

"Thanks," he said. "I think . . . . "

Having made sure of her charge, Denise re-read her orders. She was to assess Charlie in all manners available to her; was he, for example, 'normal'? Even in these days of liberal attitudes, checks were still sometimes necessary and she'd drawn the short straw although she did have the option to simply ask a few questions. At least, she thought, he was no ogre: Just a tired and slightly nervous man beginning to feel out of his depth. She felt quite sorry for him.

The reality of his situation caught up with Charlie as he laid his head on the hotel-room pillows. He was alone in a foreign country, hiding from someone who wanted to do him serious harm, at best. Being alone was not normally something which bothered him much, provided he could get out and do simple things when he wanted, like going to the pub or something. Despite being very tired, not to say exhausted, he could not get comfortable and spent the night feeling rather sorry for himself.

Over the next few days, he managed to relax a bit and get into a rhythm whilst on his course. It was more like an introduction to Northern America than the job he was to do. Technically, the job was an interesting challenge, and located in what seemed to be a very rural part of the US. Visiting several bars, dives and other establishments took up several evenings, at which Charlie had the opportunity to sample many different beers; some were even quite tasty, rather to his surprise. But they sure had some quaint customs. He'd been told about the idea of customs and how important it was to be seen at least to try; to join in, if only for a short while.

The night before he left to travel onwards, he got a call from Denise who asked if he'd like to celebrate a little before his next part of the trip:

"We're having a little class get-together after a course and you are, naturally, invited. Do please say you'll come."

He thought about it and said "I look forward to it."

By nine that evening, the class had wined and dined and were sinking the local brew like it was their mothers' milk. Charlie thought the beer rather insipid, but assumed that was for the benefit of young locals. After a couple of particularly rowdy and risqué songs, Charlie picked up the chorus and joined in to the general approval of his class-mates. To his surprise, they then got up to leave. He raised an eyebrow. Denise leaned over to him and said "They're all off to the local house to get laid. I didn't know whether to add your name to the list, and of course there are no establishments which cater for ladies." She blushed slightly. Charlie thought she was very pretty.

"Would you care to come to my room and have a night-cap with me?" he asked.

She looked at him and said "Yes please, but give me time to change first, OK?"

He nodded, still in shock that his invitation had been accepted. He wasn't used to that. Dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, he sat in the armchair, reading his notes and sorting things out for his departure.

Her knock on the door sounded almost tentative, but he called out "Come in."

Denise walked in, looking somewhat nervous. She wore a short, simple wrap-around skirt and a white blouse and it seemed very little makeup, save something on her lips. It looked very inviting to Charlie as he noted the décolletage and the side tie laces. It reminded him of the advert: "All you got to do is Pull."

He glanced away, not wanting for her to see she was under scrutiny; she noticed and smiled slightly but said nothing as she sat down on the end of the sofa.

"I took the liberty of ordering some nice white wine; I hope you don't mind. I really didn't want any more of that particular beer."

"I'd like a glass of wine, please," she said. "Have you enjoyed the course?"

"Yes," he said. "Although there's lot about the 'American Way' that I do not understand but I will try to fit in as best I can."

"I'm sure you will, good Sir." She smiled at him and took the proffered wine glass.

The words she used were a joke on some of the language classes; traditional classic and polite English. Raising it in salute, she took a sip. The wine was superb, with fruity flavours over-lying a good alcoholic base which fumes seemed to be of summer airs. He looked over the top of his wine glass and saw a curvy woman of respectable age who had damned good skin and neat hair. Her bra was of white lace and almost invisible. Then he realized that he was probably leering and sat down on the other end of the sofa. She noticed, smiled and took another drink of her wine.

"Charlie," she said, "You are going to stick out like a sore thumb unless you are careful and quiet. But you'll get a long way if you treat the ladies right and, as it were, leave them with a smile on their lips.

In other words, you gotta fuck 'em right."

Charlie nearly choked; he spluttered drops of his wine down his shirt front. This demure thing had pointed out this or that error in his assumptions; he'd had no end of trouble with a long list of presidents and what was described as history, but to hear that word on her voice was a real surprise. He was non-plussed for a moment, took a deep breath and took a decent swig of his wine. She looked up at him with a defiant expression on her face, as if using such language was alien to her nature and she wasn't quite sure about it. Then she smiled.

"Now that," he said quietly, "is not as easy as it might sound. My success with women in the past is not, as it were, a resounding success. But I do endeavour to leave as few frowns as possible."

"Come here," she said, patting the cushion next to her. Feeling slightly foolish, he stood, straightened his shirt and carefully sat down on the indicated cushion. She ducked under his arm and put her head on his shoulder. A few minor shuffles and she was as comfortable as she wanted and he was getting the idea that this could actually be fun. She slowly rubbed her hand over his shirtfront, moving very slowly over a handy nipple.

Charlie tensed up.

"Charlie," she murmured, "you are very tense. How long is it since you got laid?"

"A long, long time," he almost choked. "I've been a bit busy for the last few months and my girl friend is probably now my XGF and is likely happy with some new fella; she had a row with her family, as I recall, and I wasn't around to help."

She lifted her head from his shoulder, looked into his eyes and whispered, "Take me to bed, please?"

He looked stunned.

Reaching an arm round his neck, she pulled him into as soft kiss. The kiss warmed up as she moved her tongue in his mouth. He took the hint and responded, sending very warm signals to her insides. She could feel her nipples rising and pulled his hand to her breast as he unfastened a couple of buttons, revealing a bra that was more like 'invisible.' He gently stroked and teased the nipple; she let out a low sound from the back of her throat.

She withdrew the kiss and whispered: "Come on: shower, then bed. You got places to go tomorrow."

They got up and he said: "After you with the shower please."

As she let the warm water hiss all over her body, she realised that she was excited at the prospect of making love with Charlie; He wasn't the only one who needed it; it had been a good while since she last had a man and she could feel her insides turning to liquid. She emerged from the stall wrapped in a huge towel. On her, Charlie thought, it looks like a Toga, as he went in to shower. She was combing her hair at the dressing table when he emerged. He walked up behind her and gently kissed her neck under the ear and he kissed his way down to her shoulder.

"You have the next century to stop doing that," she said quietly, moving her head back and to the side to give him more room. He gently stroked both shoulders and she flexed her body in appreciation as she reached up to hold his head. His hand slipped down to the top of the towel and released it so it slowly unfolded, revealing her breasts.

Charlie looked at her reflection in the mirror and was staggered. Denise had well-nigh perfect breasts; prominent without being huge, smooth creamy skin and areolas of a healthy pink with a nipple just begging to be fondled and kissed. "Wow" was all he could say.

"When you have quite finished admiring my breasts which, may I add with some pride, are all me and not silicone, you can ogle the rest of me at your pleasure," she said; and grinned: "But then I get to ogle in return."

"If I was a bit vain and as handsome as you are pretty, OK, I'd let you, but I'm an ordinary bloke in strange circumstances so I'll let you make your own mind up."

He reached forward and took her breast in his hand, looked into her eyes in the mirror and murmured "You really are gorgeous." She watched as her nipple responded to his stroking. Seeing it as from a distance at the same time as feeling what made it happen was something new.

Charlie gently took her elbow and raised her up, wrapped his arms round her and kissed her soundly, their tongues duelling with each other, finding new bundles of nerves to try, Denise pulled him tightly to her making her body mould to his. She could feel his penis press against her and it thrilled her, making her tummy tremble and her vulva increasingly wet.

Together they did a parody of a dance which eventually brought them to the bed. They fell together, laughing.

Charlie turned to Denise and started planting little kisses on any bit of skin near his mouth. Denise twisted so he could get to her tummy and Charlie slowly kissed his way from her breast down to her vulva. Denise put her hand in Charlie's hair, steering him to her pleasure and his education. Her excitement was evident and he slowly got to her glistening lips, savouring the musk of passion.

His tongue slowly traced the outer and inner lips, brushing the clitoris with tiny licks and sucking on it. Denise was breathing quickly and softly moaned as Charlie reached forward to her breast and squeezed the nipple.

He kissed the inside of the thigh and worked slowly back to the labia. He gently teased the skin and round the clitoris and stuck his tongue into the dark inviting recesses before moving away. Denise moaned "Oh, don't stop."

He could feel the muscles of her thighs tighten and loose. Then Charlie was kissing and licking all round the clitoris, tasting the savoury moisture. Denise gasped "Oh, I'm coming, I'm coming." Her legs clamped Charlie's ears.

He buried his mouth on the clitoris, alternately sucking it hard and licking it softly. Denise came with a flush of liquid and sighing "Oh" which went on forever; then went limp. She looked at him as he straightened, massaging his neck; she had very strong thigh muscles and he smiled at her. She was still taking great breaths as if she'd run a long race.

"Thank you, kind Sir; that was wonderful," she breathed.

"My pleasure, Ma'am," he replied. "More is available as soon as you like."

"Oh no, kind Sir, it's my turn to play. Come here." She patted the quilt next to her. In what seemed an instant, she had his member getting stiffer and, like a cat with the cream, kissed her way up his shaft before placing her tongue on the head and enveloping it with her mouth. Her tongue wove some magic in Charlie's prick as she bobbed her head up and down, pausing every so often to take a deep breath while keeping up the stroking. It was all driving Charlie crazy and he pulled her up.

She was alarmed; "Don't you like me?" she said.

Charlie smiled as he manoeuvred her into position straddling his hips.

"I want you, Madam, to plant that sweet pussy of yours on my prick. I cannot wait any longer to just simply fuck you and I want to kiss your nipples," he said. "It may sound daft, but to me it is simply sweet."

She smiled broadly and lined up her hips, grasped his prick and steered him home. The impact of her warm wetness on his prick nearly sent him over the edge. She leaned forward and put her nipples in the range of his mouth, but not quite accessible. He grimaced as she grinned, her pelvic muscles working hard; she hardly moved her hips. She let him capture a nipple and he sucked like a starving child, and used his tongue to squeeze it. It drove her mad and she lifted her hips slowly before slamming them down again.

Her breathing got more ragged as she yelled: "Oh, My God; I'm coming."

Charlie felt his own climax coming and pulled her hips down as it did, emptying his passion into her warm wetness.

They lay there in a tangle of limbs and bodies, sated and breathing heavy, each with a broad grin on the face. He looked at her, a sheen of soft moisture on her features; he thought he'd never seen anything quite as beautiful for a very long time.

"Please tell me you can stay the night," he whispered.

"If you really want me to," she replied.

He kissed her and said "Oh, Yes, please."

There was a pause.

"Do you think they'd miss me if I took a later plane to wherever? I mean, it's the weekend and it's not good making other people work; I sure the pilot would prefer to spend more time with his nearest and dearest, for example." He smiled.

"That sounds like you are trying to deter me from my duty," she said. "But I think it's a fucking good idea," and she giggled.

And they slept.

After a weekend of passionate sex, she left him on Sunday night and wrote her report. She'd sent a copy to her supervisor a little later.

"Yes," she wrote. "I can confirm 'normal', [he's actually not bad] but he is a bit reluctant to be adventurous. I suggest that if future operatives try to expand his horizons, his confidence will benefit a great deal. I suspect a bit of added distraction might help him forget his situation and a subtle or gentle bit of guarding/supervision would be desirable, if only at the start."

She signed it, put it in another pre-paid envelope, addressed to a prize-draw firm, sealed it and put it in her bag. It could go in tomorrow's post.

Monday morning dawned cold & wet. Charlie and Denise sat in the taxicab silently. As he went to get out, she threw her arms round him, kissed him and said,

"Thank you for being such a good student."

Joining in the pretence, he said in reply,

"Thank you for being such a good teacher."

He waved as the car took her away and boarded the aircraft.