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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
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FALCO
I took a bite of egg and bacon, watching Irina consume her food as if she had not eaten a whole bag of burgers from Krystal the evening before.
“How long before you realized it was me?” I asked.
She looked up, “From the first moment I saw you,” she said.
“Why didn’t you say something then?”
“I was embarrassed,” she said, “at what you were seeing—me at rock bottom—homeless, starving, freezing. My face was covered in soot and dirt. I smelled like a wet dog.”
Worse, I thought, but didn’t say, “I understand.”
“I could tell from the look on your face you didn’t recognize me,” she continued.
“Well, it has been twenty years,” I told her. “Your hair was covered by the hat. You never looked directly at me. I think I would have caught on if I had heard your voice or seen your freckles but your cheeks were covered in soot.”
I watched her scooping up more eggs. My pajama top hung so loosely on her I could see her right breast down the top. It was just like I remembered, only rounder and fuller, creamy white with a pale areola and a perky nipple.
“Your English is much better,” I noted, averting my eyes from her breast.
“I’ve lived in the US since I was twelve, Jackie,” she said. “Still, people hear my accent very quickly, and I don’t always use words right.”
“Your accent is very sexy,” I said. “And your grammar is better then ninety percent of the people I work with.”
She smiled at me when I said the word ‘sexy.’ Her smile made me blush a little.
“You are sexier than ever,” she said. “Still the same beautiful face, though your jaw is stronger and much manlier. Your hair is shorter but every bit as thick and brown. You have many muscles, and I see some tattoos, too.”
I’d forgotten I had no tattoos when she last saw me. I had lots of ink on both my arms from shoulders to wrists, and across the top of my chest. I pulled my robe off my shoulders and allowed it to fall to my waist. I stuck out my chest and held my arms out, modeling the tats for her.
“You like?” I asked.
“Yes, very much,” she said. “You are a cop, but you are also like . . . a badass.”
I chuckled.
She leaned over and lightly touched the tats on my left arm. I looked down at her tiny hands. Her touch sent a sensation through my body.
“Do you have any tattoos?” I asked.
“Yes, one.”
“Can I see it?”
She blushed, “If you wish.”
I heard my phone buzzing. A text was coming through. I opened my phone and read it.
“I suppose you wish to know how it is I am homeless?” she asked.
“Yes, I do, but we’ll need to talk about it later,” I said. “I’ve been called into work.”
“Oh, you tell me before this is your day off,” she said.
I shrugged, “The life of a police officer. What can I do?”
“Do I need to leave?” she asked. “I would understand if . . .”
“What? No, of course not,” I told her. “You’ll stay here until we get this all figured out.”
I reached into my wallet and pulled out a debit card, “Look, take this. The Brentwood Shopping Center is only a couple of miles from here. Pick up a few things for yourself: clothes; underwear; shoes. My pin number is 1098.”
She waved me off, “I cannot do this,” she said. “You have done too much already.”
“No, I insist,” I told her. “I need to take my car, so you’ll have to Uber it. You can use the card for that. Get whatever you need. Buy some food you like, too.”
“Jackie, I do not wish to spend your money,” she said.
“Irina, when we were kids, I told you I’d be your friend . . . always. Do you remember that?”
“Of course,” she said. “I think of that day every day of my life.”
“Well, I meant it,” I said. “Do me a favor and try to keep it under four hundred dollars if you can. I don’t get paid for another two weeks, but other than that, get what you need. I’ll get my spare door key for you.”
“How long will you be gone?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m guessing all day, but I’ll be back around six.”
She slipped her arms under mine and hugged me tightly. I could feel the swell of her beautiful breasts rubbing through the silk pajama top against my bare chest. I hugged her back and together we gently swayed silently as we embraced. I released the embrace when I felt like I was starting to get aroused. I didn’t think she was ready for that, nor was I, all evidence to the contrary.
“Almost forgot,” I said. “You were going to show me your tattoo.”
“Ok,” she said, backing up, her face reddening a bit. She lifted the bottom of her pajama top, allowing me to see her panties. And there I saw it, just below her belly button, a tattoo of a yellow and purple flower—the Blackeyed Susan. The single tattoo on Irina’s body was the image of a flower I had given to her that day during lunch period in school when I first sat with her.
“You like?” she asked.
I cleared my throat, “Uh . . . yes, of course I do. It’s beautiful.”
“Do you recognize it?”
I nodded.
She beamed, “I have it with me, always, Jackie. Every time I see it in the mirror, I think of you and the wonderful moments we shared.”
I was so touched I was speechless.
“Jackie, is everything ok?” she asked.
“Yes, I just have to get ready,” I said, feeling paralyzed by the presence of this beautiful woman who had just fallen back into my life.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I managed to finish.
“Jackie, thank you for what you do for me,” she said. “You have saved me again.”
She slipped into my arms. I hugged her. Her body was warm. I felt her soft, natural breasts pressing against me once again. I smiled at her. I said nothing. All I could think of was . . .
Boom!