too many wild things about it.
“Oh, yes, seсor. There is a very good hotel in Baja Malibu, on the beach. I have the number in my cell phone.”
“Will you please call and book two rooms for us? Just one night.”
“Of course, seсor.” The man made the call. “They have the rooms, seсor. Shall I drive you there?”
“Yes, and you’ll need to pick us up at, say, eleven o’clock tomorrow morning, drive us here, then back to the airport in Tijuana.”
“Of course, seсor.” He put the car into gear and headed to Baja Malibu.
Kerry checked in at the desk and told the desk clerk they wouldn’t need a bellman, since they had light luggage. The clerk gave him two keys and directions to the rooms, on the top floor.
They took the elevator upstairs, and Kerry found the rooms. He unlocked the door of the first one and handed Shelly the key. “Would you like to have dinner later?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I’ll book a table in the restaurant. Seven o’clock?”
“That will be fine.”
“I’ll knock on your door.” He walked down the hall and let himself into the next room. It was nicely furnished with a flat-screen TV, and there was a terrace overlooking the sea. He heard a knock at the door and walked back into the room and opened it, but no one was there. Then the knocking came again, and he found that it was coming from another door in the room. He opened it and found Shelly waiting.
“It’s not two rooms,” she said, “it’s a suite.” She was standing in a sitting room.
“I’m sorry,” Kerry said, walking into the sitting room and picking up the phone. “I’ll call down and fix this.”
“Yes, seсor?” the clerk said.
“I asked for two rooms, but you gave me a suite, instead.”
“Seсor, a suite is two rooms.”
“But I wanted two bedrooms.”
“Ahhh,” the clerk said. “Just a moment.”
“I’m on hold,” Kerry said to Shelly.
She nodded.
The clerk came back. “Seсor?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry, seсor, but the hotel is fully booked. You got the last suite.”
“You don’t have even one more bedroom?”
“No, seсor.”
Shelly was waving at him. “It’s all right,” she said.
“Thank you,” Kerry said to the clerk, and hung up.
“I’ll sleep in here,” Shelly said.
“No, I’ll sleep in here. You take the bedroom. I insist,” he said, holding up a hand. “There’s a comfortable- looking sofa.”
“Oh, all right,” she said. “I’ll go freshen up.”
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, opening the refrigerator behind the bar.
“I don’t suppose there are any margaritas in there?”
He held up a can. “Actually, there are.” He poured them each one. “No salt, I’m afraid.”
“That’s all right. I don’t like salt on my margaritas, anyway. Excuse me for a minute.” She picked up her bag and, taking her margarita, walked into the other room.
Kerry hung up his jacket, took off his tie, and rolled up his sleeves, then he grabbed his drink and walked out to the terrace. He arranged himself on a lounge chair and closed his eyes for a moment.
“There,” he heard Shelly say, “that’s better.”
He opened his eyes and found her spreading a towel on her chair. She was wearing a very small bikini, and the effect was riveting.
“Why don’t you put on your swimsuit and relax?” she said, arranging herself on the lounge chair.
“I didn’t bring one,” he replied, with regret.
She regarded him coolly. “Boxers or briefs?” she asked.
“Uh, boxers.”
“Same thing as a swimsuit,” she said. “You’ll burn up in those clothes.” She closed her eyes.
Kerry sat there, uncertain.
“Oh, go on,” she said, without opening her eyes.
He went back into the sitting room, hung up his trousers and shirt, and walked back to the terrace in his boxers, snagging another can of margarita on the way.
He refilled her glass, and she opened one eye. “Mmm, you’ve been working out.”
“Most days,” he said, holding in his belly. “There’s a gym in my building.”
“Good for you. Most of the agents in the Hoover Building are pretty dumpy-looking, except the youngest ones, and they’re…”
“Callow?”
“The perfect word,” she replied. “Are you seeing anyone back in D.C.?”
“No. I recently broke up with someone. You?”
“I’m about to break up with someone,” she said.
He wondered what she meant by that, but he was afraid to ask.
17
Bob Kinneypicked up the phone. “Good Morning, Mr. President.”
“Good morning, Bob. When can I expect your report on Martin Stanton?”
“Sir, I anticipate completing that early this afternoon, when the final detail should be in place. I’ll messenger it over the moment it’s in my hands.”
“E-mail it, Bob. It’s faster and cheaper.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll look forward to receiving it.” The president hung up.
Kerry Smith looked up into the eyes of Shelly Bach, who was astride him, moving rapidly.
“I love it that you look at me when we’re fucking,” Shelly said.
“Looking at you is fun,” Kerry panted, massaging her breasts.
She began moving faster, and they were at the peak of their mutual orgasm when the phone began to ring.
“Shit!” Kerry yelled. “Sorry, that was for the phone, not for you.”
He picked up the phone, while Shelly laid her head on his shoulder. They were panting in unison. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Kerry. What do you have for me?”
“Good morning, sir. Nothing just yet. It’s three hours earlier out here, and we’re planning to be at the Martнnez place at eleven a.m., local. He’s due back for his lunch.”
“Why are you breathing so hard?”
“I was working out, sir, doing sit-ups, when you called. I was just about to get into a shower.”
