American Princess

by Robert Wolf

©Copyright2025, Robert Wolf. All Rights Reserved.

Preface

An earlier and much shorter version of this story appeared in public in 2014. This version is a major re-write of that story and over half of this revision is new, freshly-added, and often sexier material to the storyline.

Within the story is a completely inaccurate and frequent reference to British royalty in one way or another throughout the story. This is fictional and the author’s license was freely with that genre of characters. Please suspend current events on that front.

Chapter 1 - Disappearance and Discovery

ASSOCIATED PRESS: Friday. Police and secret service personnel remain in a frenzy over the sudden disappearance of visiting royal family member Princess Caroline. They remain hopeful that British Princess Caroline will be found today after vanishing in the middle of the night from her heavily guarded hotel suite in downtown Washington. The beautiful, well-known, and popular young Princess is on a state tour of several major east coast cities, and was scheduled to open a wing of a new hospital named after her late grandfather …

* * * * *

I had no idea about the level of fear and fright that would find me in less than fifteen minutes, or how their cause would change my life in major ways forever.

I scanned the lounge and looked at my four buddies seated around the dimly lit table: Paulie, Don, Billy, and Dave. We’d met after work in the lounge of the upscale Washingtonian Hotel nearly four hours earlier.

Our gathering was to welcome Dave back to town - a fraternity brother who was part of our ‘pack’ during college. We’d remained friends since graduating college together nearly a decade earlier. He had moved farthest from the D.C. area, ending up in Denver, but was back on a quick business trip for the first time in years.

I stood, stretched from sitting too long, and announced, “I’m heading home. I have to work tomorrow. You guys keep burning the midnight oil, but there’s not much action here. Next time let’s come on the weekend. There’ll be more chicks here then. Thursdays are dead. Thanks for getting us together. We’ll do this again when you’re back in town, Dave.”

I got a chorus of goodbyes and fist bumps from my four friends, and some teasing for leaving the hotel lounge so early - it was eleven p.m. I chugged one last swallow of the beer I’d been nursing for the entire evening, and headed from the bar across the lobby of the hotel to the elevator for the parking garage and my car.

I don’t think I’d stayed out this late for six months, or even before that on a couple of hot dates that I’d had before Marjorie had moved in with me and declared that she was my ‘official’ girlfriend. We were early risers, so we tended to go to bed early.

Marjorie had been gone a month by then, initially declaring that she was confused and no longer my girlfriend. She was upwardly mobile, and had decided that Kenneth Bower might help her ‘find herself.’ The bastard had offered an incentive to win her away from me - a two-week vacation in Cancun that he’d pay for.

Marjorie did allow as how we’d had a great romance and fabulous sex life, and that she might like to ‘visit’ me periodically; a euphemism for wanting me as an occasional fuck buddy. Since Marjorie was a hot fuck and I still had feelings for her; I told her that I welcomed the continued but changed relationship, although I hadn’t seen her or talked with her since she left. Thinking of her made me sad because she’d moved on. I still loved her, and I wondered how she’d liked the Cancun fuck fest with Kenneth.

One three-letter word summed up Marjorie - HOT. She was one of the most stunning women that I’d even seen, let alone known or had as a girlfriend for six months. She was tall and silky, always dressed to the nines, and was friendly and welcoming to everybody that she met. Oh, well. I hadn’t dated anybody since she left.

I took the hotel elevator up to level three of the parking garage, and walked to my car, mindful of my own security. I’d unfortunately had to park in a dimly lit section of the car park. I turned into the aisle between my car and the next, got in the car, and locked the doors as I started up. A few minutes later I headed north on Georgia Avenue heading home from downtown Washington.

I’d barely driven five minutes through the exceptionally light traffic downtown. I came to a stop at a red light. Suddenly, a female voice from the backseat said, “Please don’t freak out or get all flustered … or do anything bonkers. I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I just needed a ride and a place to hide. You didn’t lock your car, so I just got in and lay down back here.”

Besides leaping upwards so I almost hit my head on the roof of the car - held in only by my seat belt, I jerked a few times and fortunately didn’t hit anything as the car lurched forward in my reaction. My adrenalin surged to the ‘red alert level - death is imminent’ level. I immediately went into fight-flight-fright mode big time. My heart rate shot up to two- or three-hundred beats per minute, and my blood pressure spiked nearly rupturing my aorta.

I shuddered, “WOOOOOOOOooooo! What do you want? I don’t have much money. Take everything, but don’t hurt me.” I decided this was not a time to display my brave face, if I even had one. Just about everyone said to give a thief whatever they wanted so that you could live to see another day.

“I only want a ride, you silly man. You’re just giving me a ride. I’m … escaping.” The female accent was unmistakably English and not American.

“Where to? Don’t hurt me. I’ll take you anywhere, and I promise I won’t say anything - I promise I won’t call the police.”

The female voice giggled, “I wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m going to … wherever you are - the further from downtown, the better. Just drive, and don’t get a traffic citation. I need to be far away from that hotel and someplace where I can hide until they stop looking for me.”

I figured she’d just sliced up her last victim and left his bloody body to die in the hotel. She was escaping the long arm of the law. My brain dithered about how to escape the situation. I started looking for ways to run the car to the side of the road and leap out, except the neighborhood I was in did not invite doing that. I’d be jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

The female voice from the floor of the back seat asked, “Are you a nice man?”

I timorously responded in a rapid voice, “Last I looked? Why are you hiding back there? Did you rob someone at the hotel? What did you do? Are you wanted by the police?”

“None of that, I’m a thoroughly nice person escaping a bad situation that has held me captive for … years. Please help me. I’m at your service, but please take me with you to wherever you’re going. I’ll pay you … well, eventually. I don’t have any money with me right now. I just need your help - desperately.”

A fraction of my brain allowed the fact that this situation was not threatening. I asked in a shaky tone “Do you have a name? I’m Jim.” I still worried about being garroted by my unexpected passenger, but she seemed to want to hug the floor mats in the back.

She replied in a muffled tone from the floor, “My given name is Caroline, but my friends call me Carrie. You’re not a James?”

“Formally, yes, James, but I never use it. My mother calls me James and always has when she was angry at me. I’m friendly Jim - Jim Westerly.” I started to relax a little more. The girl’s voice didn’t sound threatening at all.

I asked, “Do you have a weapon?”

“No. It’s only me back here.” I breathed easier, but wondered if she knew karate and could snap my neck in a microsecond. Then I realized that if she did, I wouldn’t feel but a second’s worth of pain.

She explained, “I’m on the floor because I don’t want any traffic or security cameras to see me. I’ll explain when you get to your destination. Please just drive to wherever you were headed and please act normally. I promise I’m not a threat, that no harm will come to you, and that I’m not going to rob you … or anything, but please be kind and help me. I promise that I’ll reward you in some way Mr. James Westerly.”

I glanced back as we passed under a brightly lit intersection. On the floor of my old sedan’s backseat, an attractive mid-twenties girl cowered as she smiled up at me from the floorboards with her head against the right-side door. She’d partially covered herself with a sweatshirt and jacket I’d tossed in there weeks ago.

I couldn’t possibly imagine anyone wanting her for anything other than as a hot girlfriend. She looked more scared than I was, clutching the jacket around her shoulders.

“Where do you live?” she asked in a pleasant tone. I thought she was trying to defuse the situation that she’d caused.

“Silver Spring.”

“Where’s that?”

“About six or seven miles north of downtown Washington - lots of traffic lights to get there. You have an accent. Where are you from?”

She laughed gaily, “United Kingdom. I’ll give you details once we get to your place.”

“Are you kidnapping me?”

“No, more the other way around, but I’m a willing party, and I promise that I’ll pay you for your troubles … someday.”

My blood pressure slowly backed down from the ‘red alert’ to a more modest condition, my pulse had slowed to 180 instead of 500, and my inclination to pull the car over and run had subsided. I kept driving.

“Carrie, what’s going on? Why are you on the run?”

“I’ve been held captive, and now I’m escaping?” Now, I realized it was her voice that was shaky and weak. I felt that she didn’t want to talk about whatever her situation as.

“Who held you against your will? Did whoever was involved hurt you?” I suddenly found myself wanting to protect this sweet spoken young woman.

“Well, no, no one hurt me, but the way you’re thinking is a kilter. Everyone held me captive and kind of forced me to do things that I didn’t want to do. I just was born into a life of commitments that piled up until I can’t take it anymore. Another day, and I’d run bare ass into the street screaming to be put away in an infirmary of some kind. The privileges mean little to me. Now, tonight, I’m free … at least for a while. I’m sure they’ll catch me and make me go back.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“I’ll tell you later. Would you allow me to sleep on your sofa or floor until tomorrow? If you live with somebody, I’ll explain it all to them, too. Please. I won’t be a problem. I promise I won’t steal anything or hurt you or do anything bad - really. It’s not my nature. When you hear my story, I’m sure you’ll understand.”

The apprehensive voice from behind me, sounded almost ready to cry.

“Errr. You’re sure you won’t … you know, attack me or something? I’m not a fighter and don’t handle pain well.” Why did I just admit that?

“No, I promise. I’m more scared of you than the other way around. Tell me about yourself. What do you do?”

I responded in my rapid and nervous tone, “I’m a computer systems specialist and manager for Binary Computer Systems, or BCS. I lead a team that builds systems for businesses, big ones that take a year or more to design and build. They’re office is near where I live.”

I added, “If I don’t show up tomorrow, they’ll come looking for me. I’m important there.” I hoped the bold-faced lie might discourage any mistreatment my passenger might have planned for me. Even as a supervisor of twenty or so serious geeks, I wouldn’t be missed for a week or more. Work was pretty laid back and measured on results instead of punching a time clock.

“That does sound exceptionally important,” Carrie said in a sincere tone. She politely asked, “What were you doing in the city - at the hotel?”

I was warming up to listening to her foreign accent. I liked that.

“One of my old friends from out of town was in the city on business; he was staying at the hotel. A few of us from our college ‘pack’ got together for dinner and drinks. It went later than I had planned. Was that where you were - at the hotel?”

“Yes. I arrived yesterday.” After a pause, she asked, “How much further?”

“Five or ten minutes depending on how we hit the traffic lights.”

“Hurry. My leg is cramping and it’s not level on the floorboards.” Now, I felt sure I wasn’t in any danger if she were complaining of her own self-inflicted pain. I sensed her trying to roll onto her back and extend her leg vertically behind me.

As we neared my condo, I said, “Almost there?”

“Are there security cameras?”

“Yes.”

“Can you get to your flat and avoid them? Can you smuggle me inside some way past them?”

“Probably. You’re trying to hide for sure?”

“Yes. Can I wear your coat?”

“Yes, and there’s a baseball hat back there somewhere too. Put that on and pull it down over your eyes. Push your hair up under the cap, too.” I realized I was now complicit in helping this girl escape, avoid security, and helping her hide. How did I get trapped into this?

I pulled the car into a relatively dark corner of the parking lot for my building. We were even away from other cars. I got out and helped Carrie out the back door of the car on the driver’s side. I nodded, “Follow me.”

Carrie cascaded out of the back on her hands and knees, and stood in my jacket. The sleeves were at least six inches longer than her arms, and the hat fit loosely on her head. I could see she had long dark hair tucked under the hat. As she stood, the top of her head barely came up to my chin.

She gave me a weak smile and indicated with a shrug that she was in my hands. As I looked at her, I could see her face better; she was undoubtedly beautiful. She got teary again and said, “Thank you for helping me.”

Instead of the direct route to the front foyer of the building, I led us to the ‘Resident’s Only’ side door that I needed a key fob to enter. I waved my key, and we went in. I said, “The entrance and elevators have cameras; there are none in this area or the stairwell. We’ll walk up to ten.”

“Walk! Ten!” she suddenly protested, but then started to trudge to the emergency stairs ahead of me.

I followed her up, watching her sweet little butt wiggle enticingly inside my jacket with each stair. Carrie was wearing dark slacks, and low-slung shoes that were almost ballet slippers. The rest of her body shape I couldn’t discern under the makeshift disguise.

The higher in the building we got, the slower she moved. I could tell she wasn’t used to this kind of exercise. The more I was in her presence the less worried I became for my own safety, and the more I felt concerned for my new friend.

We were both panting by the time I let us into my unit on the tenth floor. I noted the kitchen clock said eleven-thirty.

I gestured to my sofa. “If you’re serious about sleeping, there’s option one. I also have a day bed in my second bedroom, but it’ll take me a minute to get it prepared because of all the stuff piled up on it.”

She reacted, “Oh, no. I don’t want to be a burden; the sofa is fine. Do you have a bathroom?”

I showed her to the guest bath and left her. She came back five minutes later wearing one of my t-shirts and obviously nothing else under it, save for some knickers. She was barefoot, and looked cute and coquettish. I’d gotten a couple of sheets and blankets, and set them on one end of the sofa.

Carrie said as she gestured to wearing my garment, “I hope this is alright. I saw your shirt in the wardrobe and opted for a sleeper. My pants were tight. I’m not supposed to wear them in public because my keepers think that they’re not dignified. Ughh! If I had my way, I’d never be dignified the rest of my life.”

I nodded. Carrie was just about my age and looked much better in that shirt than I ever did, even as it hung long and loosely on her small frame except for the two sharp points at the end of her full breasts that made the shirt hang out away from her body.

I marveled at her since I could assess her in better lighting: late-twenties, shapely legs, cute feet, about five-foot-four, a graceful neck, a sweet and beautiful face, and long brown hair. She was gorgeous … and she looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her.

Carrie covered her mouth and yawned, even turning away in embarrassment at the act. It was late by my standards, and I guessed by hers, too.

I stammered out, “I put blankets and stuff there. If you need more, let me know. Now who are you and what are you escaping from?”

“Thank you. I’ll be fine.” She sat demurely on the edge of the sofa. “As for the rest, I’ll tell you tomorrow morning. It’s a long story, and we’re both tired. Let’s sleep and then I’ll do a ‘tell all’.”

For some reason, I just accepted her not answering my basic question. I slipped into the master bedroom, and a few minutes later, I was in my own bed. My last thought was to wonder about whom Carrie really was, why she was on the run, and what the new day would bring.

Chapter 2 - Revelation

I awoke and leaped and out of bed as consciousness swept over me. Why? It was Friday morning, and the sun was shining outside. The scantily clad body of a female I barely knew lay beside me - actually had curled up not only beside me but solidly cuddled into my warmth. She was fast asleep but had somehow managed to get me to spoon around her; however, the tidal wave of motion of the bed that I’d created in my start awoke the pretty girl.

As she moved from her sleep, I studied her again. Her long hair was tousled, and partly covered the side of her face, and draped elegantly over her neck. My shirt, that she wore, had ridden up her legs, exposing most of her undies and her great legs. From my vantage point, I could also see that she had a rather nice butt that I wanted to touch.

Carrie’s hazel eyes blinked open, looked up at me, and gave me the best smile of anyone I’d ever met. Her beautiful mussed hair flowed around her face on my pillow as she moved. She stretched in a sexy way as she smiled. “Your sofa was lumpy, so I decided to use the other side of your bed. I hope that was all right? You were nice and warm, too. I liked sleeping right next to you. I’ve never done that with a man.”

“Yes … Yeah … I just forgot for a second that you were here with me.” I could still feel the adrenalin pumping through my veins - again. How many times would this girl do this to me?

Carrie sat up, and I stirred since she was nearly naked beneath my shirt that she’d commandeered the night before. I had more than one impure thought, but I turned and went into my bathroom, closing the door as I did my morning business.

Carrie was gone from my bed when I came out. Further, she’d made the bed and even straightened out some of the clothes that I’d worn the day before but that I hadn’t chucked into the hamper yet. I could hear her in the other bathroom taking a shower. I had more impure thoughts as I dressed.

In the kitchen, I set out two cereal bowls, and started some coffee. I flipped on the television that sat on my kitchen counter, and then moved to set out cereal, milk, and other fixings for breakfast. The morning talk, news, and entertainment show was on, just like every morning.

Carrie appeared wearing the same clothes she had on the night before; except she wore another of my short-sleeve shirts that she must have found in the guest room closet. I liked the way she looked in my clothes. I felt a special connection with her.

I gestured to a counter chair, and started to talk about breakfast with her.

Just then the television came to life, something obviously important from the mundane reports of doom and gloom around the world. I turned the volume up.

A reporter stood in front of the hotel I was at the night before and talked at a rapid rate, “Police have no clues to the disappearance of Princess Caroline last night. Security forces discovered early this morning she was missing from her room at the posh Washingtonian Hotel.

“Security footage from the hotel’s many security cameras is now being reviewed for clues to her disappearance. Fears are that the princess has somehow been kidnapped and that ransom demands may be forthcoming. Princess Caroline was scheduled to appear at the setting of a wreath for …”

I noted that the reporter standing in front of the Washingtonian Hotel could have just as well have been standing inside the Fukushima nuclear reactor in Japan, since the background did little to enhance her story. Did people really think she’d been there the entire time since the princess had disappeared?

The television screen changed to a stock photo of Princess Caroline. I studied the picture and slowly turned to the beautiful girl on the other side of my kitchen counter eating granola and wearing my shirt in a sexy way.

Yes, it was her without a shadow of a doubt. She smiled back at me acknowledging my ability to put two and two together. My knees went weak, and my whole body started to tremble. I stumbled backwards until I was leaning against the counter.

“Fuck!” I waved my hand in the air to apologize for my expletive. “Errr, Princess …”

“NO!” she commanded and slapped her palm on the counter for loud emphasis. “I am Carrie; please call me that. PLEASE help me NOT have to return to that life, at least for a few days or as long as we can. Don’t turn me in.” By the end of her short plea, she was almost in tears.

I pleaded too, “Carrie, there will be video coverage of me leaving the hotel in my car. The police will be here in short order to check me out. You’ve set me up to go to jail for the rest of my life. They’ll think that I kidnapped you.” I leaned against the counter opposite her and tried to think about the full import of hiding a member of the British royal family, even if it were with her consent.

“NO!” she loudly insisted. “I would never do that to you. You are obviously a kind and helpful man. I like you. I lay awake last night waiting for you to accost me, but all you did was fall asleep. I trust you. I felt in luck when I found your car unlocked. Now, I feel lucky that you are who you are. I will not let anything happen to you.”

“They’ll think I hypnotized you … or that you’re a victim of the Stockholm Syndrome where you take kindly to the plight of your kidnappers.”

“I am quite sane as any test will show. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“But I guarantee they will search every room in this place, even under my beds.”

She pondered that thought for a bit and scanned the room. Finally, she announced, “I’m small. I’ll hide in the oven of your cooking range.”

Carrie came around the counter into my small kitchen. She peered into the door of the oven. “Oh, yes. If we remove the racks and the cooking elements I can fit in there just fine. We can just stick the parts in the back of your closet. They’re even clean.”

I rolled my eyes. This whole situation had disaster written all over it - big, egregious, fucking disaster. Visions of walking a prison yard and being the prison ‘girlfriend’ of some guy twice my size named Bubba flashed through my mind.

I went to the front window and looked out, expecting to see the entire apartment complex surrounded by a small army of heavily armed SWAT personnel, but nothing was happening outside that wasn’t normal. I checked the edge of the woods in case they were hiding, but saw nothing. Then again, snipers are often hidden from view.

Carrie said, “You should go to work, as you normally would. Leave me here. I’ll watch by the window. If I see someone coming, I’ll hide.”

I said, “I can think of a thousand reasons why this is such a bad idea, but I … I guess … I don’t know what to do.”

“Go and do your normal things. That’d be best. I won’t make a stir, I promise. I may even be gone by the time you get back from work. I wrote down your name and address so I can thank you properly if that’s the case.”

“How’d you get my name and address?”

“I went through your wallet last night and saw your driver’s license … and I didn’t take any money either.”

I groaned and asked, “Where will you go?”

Carrie shrugged, obviously communicating that she had no idea where to turn next.

I shook my head. I told her, “Stay here. Except for a possible visit and search, you’re out of the public eye. We can both take the rest of the day to think about what to do. There’s got to be a way forward that can work for you.”

My appetite had vanished completely. I went and sat with my head in my hands trying to think clearly. The shortfall in my normal sleep wasn’t helping me any either. I drank a cup of coffee hoping that the caffeine would have some positive effect on my coping mechanism. It didn’t.

Finally, I stood. “I will go to work, but only for a half day or so. I’ll bring some work home or something; that’s not abnormal. Please don’t go out and don’t get seen by anyone. Stay away from the windows. Don’t call anybody either; NSA or the FBI or someone has everybody in the country bugged. There’s a little food in the refrigerator; help yourself to anything. Let’s figure out your next steps when I get home. Later, I’ll get us some better food, too.”

She nodded and seemed to agree.

I left for work a few minutes later. Every fiber of my body felt under threat, expecting a bullet to take me out for kidnapping or some other great felony. The authorities would throw the book at me just for breathing.

At work, I was not the least productive. I sat and stared at my computer screen for hours, my hands unmoving on the keyboard. I liked the pretty girl - the princess. I had a real live PRINCESS staying in my apartment. I was in trouble so deep I would fry to a cinder when I was finally brought to justice. What could I do? Did I just take her somewhere and drop her off and speed away? No that seemed cruel given her wishes.

My friend Carl came by at one point after lunch and peered into my small office, “Bad night? Man, you still look hung over. You and your buds must have really tied one on.” He knew I’d planned to go out with my buddies the night before.

“Yeah, plus I didn’t get much sleep to top it off. I think I might go home early and work over the weekend. I was even thinking of taking off a couple of days next week. Maybe I’ll just start early days next week. I’ll make up the time somehow.”

“Well, you aren’t getting much done here it appears.” Carl waltzed away towards the coffee room.

About once an hour, I also used my iPhone to listen to the local news on my headphones. I heard increased news coverage about the missing princess including an immense amount of unfounded speculation about who had taken her captive, why, and how. Everyone seemed to expect ransom demands to materialize any second. There was also idle speculation that terrorists had taken her and would reveal some wild and hairbrained demands any moment.

The more specific speculations that also included kidnapping by some fraternity as a prank, by ISIS, by the evangelical right, by the atheistic left, and lastly by a secret organization she was about to expose - the same organization really responsible for JFK’s assassination and the 9-11 attacks. The possibility that she walked away on her own was not even considered. After all, she was a princess with unbounded riches and privilege at her disposal.

I left work at two o’clock, and headed home. I tried to think about what to do with Carrie; however, I couldn’t even pose a question the right way to make the problems she’d created go away.

I went into my apartment, but no one seemed to be there. I walked through the entire twelve hundred square feet, looked under the beds, and no one was there. Then, I remembered her challenge about the oven. I went to the kitchen and opened the oven door.

Carrie smiled up at me from inside the small insulated box. “See. The only reason you found me is that we talked about me hiding here this morning.” She uncurled her lithe body from inside the confines of my stove, and stood. At least I had a clean oven. The only oven I used was the microwave on the counter.

“Point made,” I conceded reluctantly.

“How was work?” Carrie came into my personal space, stood on tiptoe, and kissed my cheek.

“Work was fine … and that was unexpected.” I tried to think if I had ever been kissed by a princess before, and obviously I hadn’t. In some fairy tales, the prince kisses some sleeping girl and she awakens, and live happily ever after. I wondered whether that was true when you were a guy and got kissed by a princess.

“I’ve been a snoop all day. You said to help myself to anything at all. I like what I’ve found out about you.”

“Oh, God. What did you do? Do I have any secrets left?”

“Nope,” she grinned. “I like the books you’ve read. I even found your journal and read it. You’re a thoughtful man with a lot of love inside you. We think alike on so many issues; I often felt that I was reading something I might have written.”

I threw my arms in the air. “Carrie, that’s my diary. You weren’t supposed to read that; it’s private.” I flopped down on my sofa and held my head in both hands. The same splitting headache that started the night before had returned.

She smiled and danced away with a laugh, “It’s not private any more. I learned a lot about you and how you think. I like you - a lot. You really are a nice man, and I can tell we’re very compatible with one another. You’ll also like me a lot when you get to know me better.” She moved near and sat beside me on the sofa. She faced me and asked, “Tell me more about Marjorie?”

I snorted, “Old girlfriend. Ditched me about four weeks ago to move on to someone she thought would be more to her liking. He took her to Cancun for a two-week vacation and fuck fest. She also told me that she wanted me as a fu…” I abruptly stopped myself.

Carrie laughed, “What? A fuck buddy? I’m not totally naïve, you know. I can even swear up a good storm like any good footballer when I get angry. Anyway, Marjorie still likes you to give you that status, and you obviously miss her.”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t heard from her since she left with all her stuff. She hurt me. If you read my journal, you know I’m trying to forget her.”

“Well, she left a few odds and ends here at your condo; good for me: some cosmetics and girly stuff; not much though. I have a favor to ask; would you go to a store for me? I made a list.”

Carrie magically produced a piece of paper with two columns of things on it. There had to have been at least fifty things on the list. Her handwriting was meticulous and on the small side, so she’d fit a lot onto the single page.

She said, “Now that you know who I am, you know I’m eventually good for the money. I walked away with nothing. I had credit cards, but I knew if I used them the authorities would know right away where I was. I didn’t take my mobile for the same reason, and the small amount of cash I had was from the U.K. and not good here.”

I glanced at the list as she talked. About half the items were cosmetics, but I thought that some of the brands were likely British or European. There were also a few clothing items, such as underwear. She also wanted a small carry-on bag or backpack for the stuff.

I enquired, “Carrie, I’ll get these things for you, but what do you plan to do?”

She shrugged slightly, “Could I stay here until things calm down, maybe a couple of days? I promise I’ll be good as gold, and I’ll even clean and cook - I do know how. I’ve seen it done. By then, I’ll have a plan of some kind.”

I rubbed my temples with both hands. “You mean I’ll have a royal princess hanging around my condo doing the cleaning and cooking? Now that’s a twist on things. I’m the commoner; am I not supposed to be doting on you?”

“Yes. No. What I mean is … that’s the life I want to get away from. I want to be a normal girl. I don’t want people bowing and getting all unsettled about meeting me. I want to date, hang out with friends, cook for someone, have to clean up my own stuff, go to a club occasionally, fall in love and have a normal family, and … just be normal. I have a long list of things I want to do with my life, and none of it involves being a princess. I even want to go line dancing at a country and western bar; would you take me sometime soon?”

“Well, on that basis, yes, you can hang out here, but eventually you’ll have to go out in public. You can’t hide forever. I’ve also never been line dancing. Maybe we can look at the Internet and learn some of the steps before we attempt anything in public.”

Carrie went on, “As for hiding, I’ll do it in plain sight. I’ll change my appearance. I’ll put my hair up under a hat and try to look like a small guy like you had me do sneaking into this building.”

I allowed my gaze to drop to her bust line. I chortled, “You will never be able to look like a small guy.”

She looked down at her own breasts; “Well, you know what I mean. I’ll just look different. Don’t be so literal.”

I ignored her comment; “I’ll go to a couple of stores after we have dinner.”

Chapter 3 - Police, Pizza, and Disguise

‘After dinner’ took a little longer than I expected a moment earlier. I’d no sooner made the offer to shop for Carrie, than there was a knock on my door.

Carrie scrambled back to the kitchen, and worked her way into the oven as I sauntered to the door. I wondered what she’d done with the racks and heating elements. I did notice that she had a piece of dark cloth inside and over the small window into the oven.

I answered the door, and four imposing law officers stood there; two were in Maryland State Trooper uniforms and two were in slacks and golf shirts, but had a badge of some kind on a leather flap at their waist. They also had a visible handgun. One of the detectives said, “James Westerly?”

As my knees started knocking, I smiled and tried to act nonchalant, “That’s me. What can I do for you? Am I in trouble of some kind?” I felt my legs going weak, and felt as though I had lights flashing all over my face announcing that Carrie was inside my condo.

“We traced your car after it exited the parking facility at the Washingtonian Hotel last night.”

“Yes, I was in their dining room and bar for several hours with friends. I think I left between around eleven. We had dinner and then talked. I was not over the limit. After dinner, I only had one beer.”

“That’s not our concern. We traced your car from the video of the exiting vehicles at the hotel. We’ve already talked to some of your friends too,” volunteered the other detective. He was not at all confrontational or obnoxious.

I asked impatiently, “Did something happen to one of them? Did I do something wrong?” I tried to sound concerned, and I even straightened my posture to be more alert to their response. I also expected the two darts from a Taser to strike me in the chest momentarily, rendering me a writhing and slightly electrocuted mass of quivering flesh on my floor as I was put in handcuffs and leg-irons.

“No. They’re all fine. We’re looking for a person who was staying in the hotel but disappeared. You didn’t happen to see anybody as you left the hotel, did you?”

I shook my head and made as though I was remembering. “I left the bar, went to my car, and drove home. I think I got home about eleven-fifteen or maybe a few minutes later. Slept. Got up and went to work. At the hotel, I only saw the desk clerk as I walked to the garage elevator. I didn’t see anyone else in the garage. I was alert because everything was so quiet and nobody was around.” I tried to sound genuine, but I was shaking. I also told only the truth.

“May we take a look around your condo?”

I moved away from the door and gestured the four of them inside. “Sure. Come on in. This is the living room, dining room, and kitchen, all in one. There is a bathroom there that also services my guest bedroom. The master is there with an ensuite bath - not much; it’s 1,200 square feet. The rent is outrageous.

The officers fanned out. I stood at the end of the kitchen counter trying to see my condo through their eyes. What would they be looking for? Hiding places? Did Carrie leave any telltale signs? I made sure to not look at the oven. The overall kitchen was tiny, and unless she was in an overhead cabinet, there was obviously nowhere else to hide.

One detective came out of the guest bedroom. “Anybody live here with you?”

“No. Just me. I had a live-in girlfriend up until a couple of weeks ago. I think she left some stuff. I haven’t felt motivated to clear it out yet. She might or might not come back, if you know what I mean. If you want, I can give you her name.”

He looked satisfied with that answer, and returned to the room. I heard a closet door slide open. I could hear the same in the master bedroom. One officer came from the guest bedroom, glanced behind the sofa and the living room drapes, and then moved to my front door.

I posed, “Is this about some princess who disappeared? I heard something on the news coming home.”

“Yes, but since you didn’t see anything, and obviously have no one squirreled away here, this is a dead end. Thank you for allowing us in. As you might expect, we’re following every possible lead we can to try to find her.”

“Well, I wish you well on your search. The newscast I heard thought she’d been kidnapped.”

The lead detective noncommittally said, “That’s one theory.” He passed me a business card. “This is my card and phone. If you happen to recall anything that you saw at the hotel - anything at all - please call me. What may be inconsequential to you may be the lead that’ll help us. Thank you.”

At that point, the four men left my apartment. I noticed they fanned out in the hall, checking the doors to the other apartments and going out the stairwells instead of the elevators.

I closed my door and listened. I even looked through the little eyepiece in the door, but saw no further activity in the hallway.

I went and opened the oven door, “You’re medium rare, just the way I like my princesses. Come on out; they’re gone.”

“You did that so well. Thank you for not ratting me out.”

I shrugged. “I like having you around. You’ve certainly injected some very uncommon excitement into my otherwise mundane life. My life was pretty much getting up, working, eating a couple of meals, watching some TV, and sleeping. I was very boring. With you in my life, I may pay for this wonderful excitement with a long prison term, but you’re interesting and unusual.”

Carrie said, “Okay. Let’s wait for them to leave the building, and then you can go shopping. Also, bring back something for dinner. I’d cook for you, but you don’t have much here.”

“I can call for pizza delivery.”

“Really. That’d be soooo cool. I rarely get anything like that. I think my parents are concerned that someone would try to poison me. I’d love pizza … with pepperoni, please. Sometimes at my private school, somebody would sneak one into our dormitory.”

I called my local pizza joint and ordered a large with pepperoni. Carrie looked as though this was her best day ever. She mouthed to me, ‘Thank you,’ and then blew me a kiss.

She was so cute. About five-foot three, just over a hundred pounds, trim, with long brown hair that she’d obviously spent hours combing out so it had a luster to it. She had a smile that lit up the room, and appeared with noticeable dimples and little crinkles at the corners of her eyes. She was busty, but not in an outrageous way. I guessed she was about three years younger.

I could tell that she was a happy person, and I had started to sense her willingness for adventure so long as it was on her terms. She was smart too, yet sensitive to other people, at least to the extent that she discerned my sensitivity to life by reading my journal.

Carrie expressed some regret for upsetting the carefully planned schedule of events that her ‘secretary’ and ‘staff’ had prepared - a hospital opening, a meeting with the state governor, and something to do with some girl scouts in the area.

My dining room table was covered with an accumulation of stuff I’d dropped there over the past month since Marjorie had moved out. Instead of clearing it off, I set up two place settings at the kitchen counter where I had at breakfast. Carrie watched me carefully.

Carrie went over near the window and peeked out from behind the curtain. A minute later she announced, “The police are leaving. Two cars. No one in manacles.”

I admonished, “That doesn’t mean that you can go out. I bet everybody else in this complex has seen your picture on TV and would love to claim a reward for giving you up. Before I left work, I heard there was some kind of reward to get you back safely and unhurt.”

“You don’t want that reward?” She sounded surprised at my lack of excitement about any inducement to turn her in.

I shook my head. “Not my style. Sure I could use the money, but it’s not worth giving up a friend to a life they don’t want.” I turned to the counter to open a bottle of wine that I’d been saving for a special occasion.

Carrie came to me and gave me a tight hug from behind me. Her voice cracked, “Thank you … for considering me your friend. That’s high praise, I know, especially given how I suddenly appeared in your life. I also know that I’m about as welcome as the plague in your life.”

I teased, “No, I’m getting used to having the plague. The symptoms so far aren’t too hard to deal with. You are sure you don’t want that princess life style, right? Money, prestige, power, publicity, adoration? Things that everybody else in the world quests after.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve thought about this for at least ten years. I’ve been looking for an opportunity where I could slip away for almost as long. I almost did it once or twice, but I’d get seen and had to call it off. I decided escaping in America would be better; I’m less well-known here, the language is common, and I could blend into the landscape better.

“Moreover, I studied the American way of life, and in some college papers even had to contrast it to the British way of life. I will like living here and enjoying the more relaxed atmosphere, the greater tolerance for the wayward part of life, and certainly all the entertainment options.”

“We’ll see whether you can blend in, I guess. You talk funny; everyone will know you’re not from here.”

Carrie shrugged. She retorted, “You talk funny, too.”

The pizza arrived a half hour later, and we ate and drank some of my white wine. I even set a lit candle on the counter to at least give us some ambiance besides the overhead fluorescent light in the kitchen. Our conversation wandered all over the map, and was as much about me as it was about her.

After dinner, I left Carrie to clean up, and I went out to the local drug store, and then the grocery store. I got back home about nine o’clock. The place was neat as a pin. I wondered what had happened to all my stuff on the dining room table and the cluttered coffee table.

Carrie welcomed me with a kiss, again to my surprise. This time the kiss was on my lips. “I think every handsome man should be welcomed home with a kiss … and I do like kissing you.”

“That’s unique and most welcome,” I assured her. Carrie was making this situation interesting. I liked the currency of kisses when she thanked me.

I unpacked some of what I’d bought. I had most of the things on her list and a few other things I’d thought of.

I said, “Princess Caroline, in making your transition to civilian life as Carrie, you need to change your appearance. I have several things to help in that regard.”

Carrie looked fascinated as I sat there with one of the bags I held.

“First, you need to change your hair color. I chose red. It goes with your complexion and your few freckles, and I think you’ll look hot as a red head.” I set a box of red hair dye on the coffee table.

“Second, you need to restyle your hair. I got you a curling iron and curlers as well. After you color it, you can give yourself a permanent. Is that the order?” I set several more things on the table.

“Next, you need some clothing that will make you blend in. Around these parts, nobody will blink an eye if you’re wearing a Redskins’ t-shirt or sweatshirt.” From another bag, I produced both, along with a pair of sweat pants.

Carrie enthusiastically asked, “Would you take me to a game?”

“Too risky to be in any sports setting right at this point. The TV cameras scan the crowd, plus the police may be using facial recognition technology. PLUS there’s still the concern about terrorists doing something at one of the games. I’ve been trying to avoid most crowd events because of that.”

I reached into another bag, “You may also feel the need to further change your hair, so I got you this.” I laid out a cheap wig with blonde hair on it. Some of the locks were colored red, white, and blue, since it was part of a July 4th sale.

“I also got you some special pens. If you let me, I’ll give you what might pass as a tattoo - maybe on your neck and arms where they’ll show. Lots of girls have them now, and since you don’t, they’ll help you blend in. They wear off after a week or two.”

“Can I pick what I want?” Carrie asked with great sincerity.

“Of course.”

I said with a touch of humor, “The rest of the bags are most of what you wanted. I confess to never having bought tampons before, but I know they’re a necessity for you.”

Carrie thanked me, and then came and gave me a kiss again. “You’re so thoughtful and so thorough. I wouldn’t have thought of many of these things. I’ll do all the hair and restyling tomorrow.”

I cleaned off the guest bed for Carrie to sleep on, and that was how she started the night. Nonetheless, when I awoke Saturday morning Carrie was snuggled against me again in my bed wearing the Redskins’ t-shirt and not much else. I lay there and enjoyed having her small warm and cuddly body tightly against me. I found it pleasing and more than a little erotic. I gently kissed the top of her head as I got out of bed in my briefs, and padded out to the kitchen to make breakfast for us. I’d gotten eggs and bacon at the store the night before.

“Do you have tea?” a voice from the bedroom said.

“No, I forgot you might like that. I will buy some this afternoon. Sorry, I didn’t think of it.”

“Then pour me some coffee. I’ll be right there … and thank you for the kiss earlier.”

Carrie arrived a minute later. She flowed out of my bedroom, and into my arms for a surprise hug and morning kiss. I could feel her breasts through the shirt material as she rubbed against me. If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed that the princess was coming on to me.

She said, “Did anybody ever tell you that you kiss nice and that you understand how to hug someone?”

I mocked, “Why, just this morning, some runaway princess told me those things.”

Carrie looked smug, “Well, I meant it.” She tightly hugged me again, and I planted another kiss on top of her head.

I gestured to the chair at the counter, “Have a seat, and I’ll have breakfast in a moment, your royal highness.”

Carrie frowned, “Please don’t call me that, even in playing around - at least for a while.”

I nodded, “I’m sorry. I’ll keep it lighter, your crappy lowness.”

Carrie laughed, “That’s more like it.”

I caught myself staring at Carrie over breakfast. She was so beautiful, and right now, for these brief moments, she was sort of mine. I thought of how she was like a butterfly that arrived on my finger, would stay for a moment, and then fly away. I needed to savor her while she was with me. I felt my heart beating faster because I really liked her - I mean, I was getting a realty big crush on her as each minute ticked by.

Carrie said softly, “I’m thinking the same thing you are.”

“How do you know?” I replied in a near whisper. My heart was beating faster, but this time it wasn’t because I was fearful.

“Because this seems so temporary. I don’t want it to be. I’m like you a lot, too.”

I smiled and changed the subject, “Girlfriend, do you want some help doing your hair. I suggest you use the tub in my bathroom. It’s got a hand sprayer you can use to wash the excess dye out of your hair.”

While I cleaned up, Carrie got organized to do the dye job. She disappeared into my bathroom.

I walked into my bedroom a few minutes later. “Can I peek and see what you’re up to? Are you decent?”

“Yes, most certainly,” she cheerfully called from the bathroom.

I went to the door and was shocked. Carrie stood there wearing only the bikini underwear she’d arrived in. She was topless, and her fair breasts stood high and proud on her pristine chest.

Chapter 4 - Cherry Picking

It took every bit of energy that I had not to go and molest Carrie as she stood there almost naked. Her skin was flawless, and I could see just about all of it. I held back from touching, and tried even harder not to even ogle her. We stared at each other, and she gave me a subtle smile.

Carrie held a pair of scissors in her hand. She had cut off her long hair. Instead of the long flow of hair to below her shoulder blades, she now had hair more the length of a pageboy, the hair barely reaching her shoulders.

I reached into the nearby wastebasket and took out a large lock of hair. “I want to keep this to always remember you. I don’t ever want to forget these days with you.”

Carrie came up to me, and kissed me. This time the kiss absolutely sizzled with electricity and heat, partly because she was nearly naked. I set the lock of hair on the counter and held her bare sides, enjoying the feel of her nakedness.

Carrie said, “You are such a romantic man, and I love it. Don’t ever stop.” After we stood there for a moment, she swung round and said, “Now, let me get on with this. Come back in an hour. Oh, yes, I need the hair dryer from the other loo.”

I produced the dryer from the guest bath, and then reluctantly left her. I put my souvenir lock of hair in a Ziploc bag, and then went shopping to pick up a few more things on her list. The memory of her nearly naked body haunted me the entire time I was gone.

I definitely wanted what I knew that I couldn’t have. I wanted Carrie. Damn, why’d she have to be a princess from another country. She’d eventually get persuaded to return home and take up her royal duties. I’d be left wearing my heart on my sleeve again.

I got back home about noon. As I opened the door with my packages, I found a redhead with a pageboy haircut sitting on my sofa. At least, she was dressed. Carrie hopped up and came and kissed me again.

“I brought you some presents. It’s Christmas in June, ho, ho, ho.” I used my jolly voice.

“What’d you get?” she eagerly asked.

“Two dresses, some shorts, a top, undies, a pair of sneakers, large sunglasses, your own baseball cap, and a lightweight jacket to name a few things.”

That list earned me further kisses - one serious kiss for each item, and then we went through the list again. We were kissing a lot, a point that was not lost on either of us. I think she liked kissing me as much as I liked kissing her. We did have chemistry.

I said, “I also got you something else that we’re going to use once and then throw away.”

“What?”

“It’s called a burner phone. You buy the phone, use the minutes on it, and then toss it.”

“Why do I need that?”

“You need to call someone and tell them that you’re okay. Your parents? Your security people? You decide, but you have a lot of people worried about you. You could even call a newspaper or TV station, but people have to know that you’re unhurt and not imprisoned somewhere against your will.”

“You want me to call now?”

“NO!” I implored as I snatched the phone out of her hands. “They’ll be able to trace the phone right to this building complex and know right away where you are. Keep it turned off until we make the call. We’ll take a drive later, miles away. You call. We ditch the phone, and then come home.”

Carrie nodded.

She said, “I also experimented with changing my looks more than just the hair. Wait a minute and I’ll show you.”

Carried disappeared and came back two minutes later. Her face was puffed out slightly, and when she smiled the dimples were gone.

“What’d you do?”

“I have a wadge of paper napkin in each cheek. They taste horrible, I might add, but they do change my look. I could stand this for an hour or so. Of course, I can’t eat or drink anything while they’re in there.”

“Good. Hold onto that idea. When we go out later, that’s what we’ll do.”

Carrie smiled, “I want to try on one of the dresses. How’d you know my size?”

“I looked at the labels in your slacks, shoes, and blouse.”

The dresses fit well, and Carrie looked cute, sexy, and sassy in them. She wore the second one she tried on, the rest of the day.

I became aware that she was braless in one of her thank-you hugs. She saw my look of shock and explained, “I had to wash it. I’ll get another one of these days. You don’t have to do that for me. Besides, don’t you like me to jiggle a little?” She did a little shimmy. The friction of the dress on her breasts made her nipples harden and stand out.

“I do.” I ran my hands up her sides, allowing my thumbs each to follow the rise of her breasts right to her nipples. Carrie closed her eyes at the erotic sensations I induced. I quickly kissed her lips and then retreated. She looked disappointed.

Carrie handed me the kit for the Henna tattoo, and also a picture of a flower that she wanted on her neck found on the Internet using my desktop computer and printer. I went to work on her. I did a tattoo pattern of a rose on the right side of her neck, and drew some barbed wire around her biceps on each arm. Carrie now looked like a tough redhead - small, but a box of dynamite. She also put on the new baseball cap; this time adjusted for her head size. With the sunglasses on, I would challenge anyone to identify her as anybody other than the Unibomber wearing a summer dress.

We took a drive around the beltway in mid-afternoon. I know we went through several traffic cams. Carrie kept the sun visor down and the sunglasses and hat on. I expected to be pulled over any second, but saw no police presence at all.

I headed for Fairfax, Virginia, staying on secondary streets the last few miles to avoid traffic cameras. I stopped near the side entrance to a Safeway supermarket, and Carrie called the Washington police from the car.

She was on the phone less than two minutes. I told her that was the limit, and then she had to end the call and toss the phone. She did that, leaving the phone on top of a recycling bin a few feet away.

As we drove away down an alley, Carrie said, “They didn’t believe me. I even gave them the secret word to let them know I was okay.. I guess other people have called pretending to be me. Anyway, you heard; I told them I was safe, away on my own volition, and that I didn’t want people searching for me.”

I suggested, “If they’re smart, they’ll find the phone and your fingerprints on it. That’ll help them know the call was legit, although they’ll figure that you were being instructed what to say by your kidnappers.”

We headed home, with each of us asking the other about their views on various key elements of their life: how they’d grown up, what motivated them, friends, lovers, personality traits we liked and didn’t, and increasingly more about what we thought was important about relationships.

Carrie said, “You already demonstrated with me many aspects of what you think are important in a relationship. I know you’re on my side, that you’ll defend and protect me, that you think of me before you think of yourself, and that you worry about me in a nice way. I know that I warm you up deep inside - and I hope you know that you do the same to me.”

Carrie reached over and put her left hand at the back of my neck. The move was arousing to say the least. She left her hand there in an affectionate manner, often stroking the side of my neck or the back of my head as we drove home.

I replied, “I was kind of hoping you felt the chemistry between us. It’s hard though, because I have the feeling if I invest too much of myself in this relationship that it’ll all end in a big crash. You’ll go back across the Atlantic, and back to your way of life, and I’ll never see you again.”

“Do you believe in promises?”

“I guess I do.”

“Well, I promise that our relationship won’t happen the way you just described. I’m better than that … and I … well, I already know I’ll never forget you … that I’ll always be in your life.” She paused and added in a poignant tone, “I know for certain that I don’t want to be away from you either.”

“Carrie, how do you know?”

“Because I love you.”

I looked over at Carrie, and she was looking at me with the sweetest; most loving expression I’d ever had from a girl. I immediately pulled over to the side of the street and put the car in Park. I turned and took Carrie in my arms and kissed her. This time her tongue found its way into my mouth, and I reciprocated. We were panting when we stopped making out, and I started driving again.

I spoke as I started to drive, “Just so you know, I love you too. I think we’re at the start of something beautiful that could last a long time if we let it - if it can be - a real long time. Just know that this is the start. Our feelings are sort of like puppy love now, but they’ll deepen and grow with each day.”

Carrie leaned across the console, and as awkward as it was in my car, put her head on my shoulder the rest of the way home.

Back at my condo, we used the main entrance and elevators, although Carrie wore the sunglasses and baseball hat, and kept her head down. It was late afternoon. I got us both a glass of wine, and we sat close on the sofa with my arm around her. We continued to learn about each other, even sharing our political views, and talking about spirituality and religion. We were amazingly aligned.

We cooked some salmon I’d bought, and Carrie made a salad. We both cleaned up after dinner, and then curled up together on the sofa ostensibly to watch a movie, but in reality to make out. The movie was soon forgotten.

After an hour of nearly constant kissing, Carrie asked, “This morning when I was doing my hair, and I was standing there almost naked, why didn’t you grope me or touch me in some way.”

I snorted. “I thought of that as an option. I was raised to respect women, and never do anything to them that they don’t invite. I did want to hold you, and do all sorts of things to you. I thought of nothing but what you looked like for a couple of hours afterwards. You are gorgeous. Thank you for that memory. I wish I’d taken a picture.”

“Well, I want you to undo my top off and play with my breasts. I am inviting you. More than that, I want you to, and if you don’t start immediately, I’ll scream. I may even let you take a photo sometime.”

I slid my arm that was around her down her arm, and then across her chest to the buttons in the upper portion of the dress. The six buttons were undone in less than twenty seconds. I reached in and cupped Carrie’s right breast, feeling the nipple harden under my palm.

She moaned, and threw herself into our next kiss, plunging her tongue down my throat. I moaned and quickly got into feeling the forbidden skin of a real princess.

She whispered, “Oh, this is so special. I love that you like me … that you even lust after me. I am lusting after you.”

“Shouldn’t we go on some dates first? You know, get to know each other?”

She smiled, “I know all I need to know. I picked well. The forces of Nature and the Universe brought us together for now and ever more. I know you feel that we are star-crossed lovers, but I will work hard to be devoted to you the rest of our time on this earth. I don’t ever want to be separated from you.”

I told her that I felt the same way and promised to do the same. As I toyed with each breast, I said, “That was date one,” and then I moved to the other breast and said, “This is date number two.” I then went back to the first one and amplified, “And this is date number three.” I kept doing that because she was laughing but also trying to be lusty at the same time.

As we talked, Carrie started to undo the buttons on my shirt. She said, “I want some skin-on-skin contact - chest to chest. I want to rub my breasts all over you. I want to turn you on until we combust.” She gave a little shimmy again, this time with my hand groping her breasts. They felt so pliant, a perfect fit into my hand, with the nipple poking into the pads on my palm. She added, “I want you to suck on them … to make love to them in your own way.”

I peeled the top of her dress the rest of the way off her body about the time she had me lose my shirt. In short order, she had straddled my lap and we had that chest-to-chest contact she craved. Her nipples, partly due to my efforts, had achieved hardness second only to steel, and they tried to etch their way into my body through the contact.

We made out more, and I suckled on both her breasts, driving her crazy with lust and passion. We were both breathing heavy. I admit to constantly checking in with her to be sure I wasn’t violating some boundary of hers. I didn’t want to get accused of accosting a princess; that’d get me another thirty years in the slammer if that ever got out. Despite reassurances, Carrie might not have any say in what happens to me in the court system.

Carrie was sitting in my lap and asked, “Aren’t you horny? Don’t you want to make love to me?”

“I’m dying to, but I don’t want to do anything that would upset you. I really am afraid of crossing some boundary that you have as a princess - sorry to mention that point again.”

“Come on, you tease. Feel me all over … please. If you get to any boundary I’ll let you know, but right now I‘ve gotten rid of all that luggage. For you, I’m the most available female you’ve ever known. I have no limitations.” She hitched herself into a standing position, and pushed her dress down her hips and legs. She tossed it onto the coffee table, and then sat back in my lap, in only her bikini knickers.

Carrie squirmed around in my lap, and I already had the start on a significant hard-on that I knew she could feel. Finally, she took my left hand and brought it to her pussy. She looked at me with great intent in her eyes. “I want you to make love to me tonight, and I want to make love to you. This is so right.”

“Really?”

“Oh, God. Do I need to spell it out for you. Yes, please fuck me … but I like kissing you a lot, so throw in a lot of that stuff, too. I like romance … and I love you. Be romantic with me. Love me.”

I stroked the outside of her knickers as we kissed, and then I slid a finger under the gusset of her panties and felt the heat and readiness of her slit. She wanted this as much as I did. I fingered her hot hole, feeling the near boiling nectar her body sent to be ready for me. As I stroked her cleft, I swear a quart of sticky female juice flooded the area and my hand.

I stood and peeled off my pants, even casting away my briefs so I stood nude before her. She looked at me in awe, but I was not a muscle-bound man by any stretch of the imagination. What was apparent, because it was pointing directly at her, was that I had a cock ready for action.

As I went to sit, Carrie reached out and took hold of my inflated penis. She whispered, “This is a dream come true. I like holding you. You feel so good in my hands. I want to keep doing this with you. You’re huge and a stud. I know I’m going to enjoy this a lot.”

She lowered her head and took the head of my cock in her mouth. I could feel her tongue doing a little dance over the glans, and any doubt I had about my readiness had been cast aside as I could have punched holes in cast iron with my shaft it was so hard.

As Carrie sucked on me and tongued up and down my shaft, she used her other hand to fondle and hold my ball sack. No one had ever done that to me before, and I found it exceptionally stimulating. I’d worried about getting hard before, and now I worried about blasting a premature load all over my princess.

I tugged at Carrie’s bikini panties, and they disappeared immediately. She smiled up at me and spread her legs showing me her treasure. She even used one hand to tease apart her moist pussy lips, revealing the pink of her interior totally to me.

Carrie asked in a serious tone, “How do you like to make love? What position would make you happiest?”

“Whatever brings you the most pleasure? If I have a favorite it’s what enables us to kiss and make out as we fuck.”

Carrie lay back on the sofa in front of me and spread her legs, holding them up to give me total access to her body. I could see the dark opening of her vagina. I dipped two fingers into her, rubbed my cock up and down her slit a few times, tapping on her clit with the end a few times, and then slowly and carefully slid my cock into that tunnel of love, taking a few strokes to bottom out completely in her.

“Oh, God,” she sighed. “This is so good. You are my dream lover for all time.”

I thought to ask, “Birth control?” I suddenly worried about producing some bastard-type of royalty with her.

“No issue,” Carrie panted.

We made love. I made love to her carefully, as though I was loving a porcelain doll. I’d never been a ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’ guy anyway, but this was making love, not fucking, and a princess was involved - a princess I had fallen for in a big way. We kissed and kissed, our tongues going everywhere on each other that we could reach. Our moans, sighs, and gasps of pleasure could be heard downtown; I was sure. We changed positions several times.

“Carrie, I’m about to cum.” She had started riding me hard in the cowgirl position, bouncing up and down on my cock as I lay back on the sofa. I was stimulated not only by the physical feeling of our union, but also by the sight of her nubile body and the knowledge that we had an invisible magic between us. Each time she dropped onto my body; my cock drove deep inside her to maximum depth. She seemed so eager for the coupling and the deep penetration.

“Inside me … please, that’s where I want you to have your climax. I want you to merge with me in every way possible. I want your spermies.”

We did merge. Carrie peaked as I did, and I jettisoned a gallon of prime and patented James Moffett Westerly semen deep inside my new beautiful girlfriend. As I did, she fell onto my chest. “Oh, God, Jim, I love you so. This far exceeded my expectations. We are so going to do this a lot from now on - for years and years, many times each day.” Carrie had tears of joy in her eyes as she talked; I felt genuine joy and sincerity from her. Her kisses rained down on me.

There remained an edgy little question about how she said a few things that I resolved to come back to shortly. I had an uncertainty that she had to resolve, but right then I didn’t want to break the mood between us.

Chapter 5 - Sex Monster

I didn’t get a chance to ask Carrie my questions about her vague statements when we were making love for the first time, because I didn’t deflate. I remained hard as steel and after a couple of minutes, I just slowly started to pump my cock into Carrie’s sweet hot body again. This time I was spooned behind her in a way that I could fondle her breasts and upper body, kiss her with renewed passion, and continue to pump my love into her where or bodies connected. I whispered my love and affection for her. She eagerly accepted me into her over and over, and moaned each time we enjoyed fulfillment.

I reached down with my hand and stroked her clit as I pistoned into her vagina. The effect was a bit like tossing more gasoline on a bonfire. Carrie erupted into a conflagration of passion, lust, and romance an order of magnitude beyond anything I’d ever known.

Carrie had two or three orgasms back-to-back in about as many minutes, or maybe it was just one long orgasm. Her whole body kept spasming and twitching in sync with her moans and gasps of pleasure. Her pledges of eternal love never ceased.

When she could finally talk, Carrie gasped out, “Oh, God, you are a sexual superman. I did pick well - the Universe has so exceeded my dreams and wishes. I was guided to your unlocked car so that I’d find you - you specifically. Somehow the gods knew I needed only you and that you needed me, and they brought us together, and then they’ve helped us merge our bodies together with all this pleasure. Oh, God, I love to fuck with you.” Her whole body shuddered with another orgasm.

When she was still enough for me to touch her again, I again reached down and stroked Carrie’s clit as I slowly oscillated my cock in and out of her tightness. She came almost immediately yet again. Her labia were swollen with lust and gripped my cock on every stroke so I didn’t go too far from her pussy.

“Jim, you’ve given me half a dozen orgasms. I didn’t know I could cum like this. I thought I could only have one a night if I could even have one.” Carrie was gasping for breath. “I hate to say this, but … well, could you let me rest for a minute. I think I’m about to have a heart attack - and what a way to pass.”

I chuckled, “That’ll be me in a few years, if I’m lucky - sex once a week and a high likelihood of a heart attack.”

She smiled, “But I think it’s a ‘use it or lose it’ kind of thing. If we make love four or five times a day every day, then your body will get used to that and gear up for that to be its normal level of activity. You’ll be making love to me that often, even when we’re in our eighties. We won’t ever slack off. It’s good cardiovascular exercise and will keep you alive and loving me for eons and eons.”

“What a nice thought.” I leaned over and bit Carrie’s shoulder affectionately.

Carrie disconnected and rolled onto her back, “I want you to fuck me like this again. I’ve rested long enough. Put that big cock of yours back inside my warm little love nest, and give me more of your jism.”

I plunged into her body, going faster now because of how her words excited me. We’d have to talk about dirty talk the next day. I wondered how she knew the words that she did.

I came again deep inside my princess - The Princess! Carrie climaxed too, almost losing consciousness in the act she was enjoying such great pleasure.

After we lay there unmoving for many minutes, I picked Carrie’s small nude body up and carried her to my bed. I cuddled her for a long time, and soon we drifted off to sleep.

* * * * *

I regained consciousness without opening my eyes. I knew it was daytime, and I also knew that someone was watching me intently from very close by.

I cranked one eye open.

Carrie’s whole face broke into a huge smile. She was next to me, cuddled against me, and nude. “Can you make love to me again, please?” Her voice was eager and intense, showing her immediate need for our act of passion.

“I can, and I will after I go to the bathroom.”

“I already went. You didn’t wake up. I’ve been watching you. You are so handsome. I love you. My heart just soars with joy being with you - making love with you.”

I waved and trod across the room to take care of a few things. I hoped this wasn’t a dream that I’d wake up from.

When I came back, Carrie took me back into her mouth again and sucked. She stimulated me, but it was the kind of blowjob one might expect from a beginner. I thought of my first few sexual encounters at a young age. I hardened right up, but then I turned the tables on her.

I toyed with Carrie’s clit, and then I went down on her. She was moist and odiferous from our antics the night before.

Carrie moaned, “Oh, dear, God. You … you’re licking my vagina … my juices. No one has ever done that to me. Ooooooh.” It didn’t take long after I focused and sucked on her clit; she tried to push my head into her body as she had a lovely climax.

I changed position again, and sank my swollen shaft into her slippery tunnel of love. Carrie experimented with different thrusts she could make to intensify the experience for her, and then kept at it until she had another orgasm. I went a little longer, and realized I wasn’t going to cum, so I just slowed and stopped, leaving my cock soaking deep inside her.

We kissed a few times.

I cautiously asked, “Carrie, how many men have you made love with?” I had decided to broach the issue that had niggled at me the night before. I’d thought of that as the defining question.

She studied me carefully and said in a quiet and shy voice, “One.”

“One?”

“Yes. You. Three times, last night.”

“You were a virgin until last night?” I said in surprise. I delivered the question in staccato fashion, surprised that she’d elected me to be the one to take her most precious gift. I sat up in disbelief after uncoupling from her. I also felt a little miffed that she didn’t tell me ahead of time that I was her ‘first.’

She nodded her head. “I hope that’s all right. I tried to pretend I was experienced.”

I hugged her to me and kissed her, “Oh, honey, darling. You don’t need to pretend with me. I love you just the way you are, however that is. You can be sweet and innocent with me, and I won’t care. I don’t need you to be ‘experienced’. I’ll care for you just as much. You never need to be someone you’re not.”

Carrie argued, “But you’ve had all those other girlfriends, and you’ve had sex with them. I read about some of what you did and how you felt in your journal. You wrote that you had many passionate nights with Marjorie. I know, I’m sorry that I violated your privacy, but what you wrote was sweet and tender. I just wanted to … be in your journal, too; to turn you on as much as she did. I hope you write about me, and how much I love you and what you did to me … for me.” Her yearning was palpable and I could see her eyes get glassy with tears. She wanted to please me so.

I hugged Carrie to me and stroked her bare back.

She said, “And I know I probably gave a lousy blowjob. I never touched a man’s penis until last night. I’d only read about what to do in some old sex book I found on a bookshelf in the palace; it had been written in 1936. A couple of the girls that I knew had also done them and talked publicly about what they did. It was hot. Of course, going to an all-girls school didn’t exactly give me an opportunity to try out anything, and the boys I knew over the summers and holidays were scuzzy.”

“You did great. Sometime we’ll watch some porn and learn about how to bring each other more pleasure.”

She pepped up, “Oh, that’d be cool. I know it’s available on the Internet, but I never dared look. Now, I want to - with you.”

“Hang around me, and I’ll corrupt you.”

* * * * *

We didn’t get too far from the apartment that day. We did take a walk because the weather was so pleasant and I needed to recover a bit from spending an inordinate amount of time in bed playing and doing sexual things with each other. Carrie was demanding and insatiable.

That night she insisted that I bring my laptop computer to bed so we could watch some porn. We did about two hours’ worth, starting with blowjobs. Carrie would watch something with great intent, and then have to practice on me. I kept having to stop her, lest I blow my load.

At first, I was a little embarrassed to show her how I cruised the porn sites for my personal entertainment, but Carrie took it all in as though it was normal behavior, and for me, it was. More than that, she was like a sponge, absorbing everything that went by on the screen. She was more into the whole porn scene than I was by the end of the evening.

She perfected a custom blowjob for me, having two hands counter-rotating around my shaft that she lubricated, and as she licked and sucked on the head. She tried to deep throat my entire shaft a couple of dozen times, but had difficulty overcoming her gag reflex, until I stopped her and told her to move on to some other endeavor. I didn’t want to asphyxiate my princess on her first full night of sexual pleasure.

After a moment or two playing with my equipment, Carrie asked, “What’s it taste like?”

“What?” I thought I knew the answer to the question, but I wanted her to vocalize it so I was sure.

“Well, one of the girls giving a blowjob in the movie jerked the guy off into her mouth … he came in her mouth and she made a big deal of swallowing it. She called it ‘jerking off’ and ‘cum.’ She seemed to like it a lot because she kept smiling and licking her lips saving the event.”

“Oh, Jeeze. I don’t know. Porn is not necessarily like real life; I hope you realize that.”

“So, will you ejaculate into my mouth sometime soon so I can try it?”

I sighed. I was creating a sexual monster, and not even a full day had passed since she’d lost her virginity to me. I noncommittally said, “Sure, you pick the time and place.” I worried that she was going overboard with all the sex stuff, but then I recalled my first girlfriend; we’d taken each other’s virginity and then were fuck machines for many months, unable to get the ‘sex stuff’ out of our systems.

Those thoughts reminded me of Marjorie. Once she and I started having sex, she also became a sexual monster and was highly demanding and insatiable. She declared herself a nymphomaniac, and that I was the one that would cure her of the malady, only it would take many decades and require near constant sex.

I moved Carrie along through the porn genres to some cunnilingus, even involving two lesbians. I enjoy giving head, love the taste, and feel that I’m good at it. We’d skipped over almost all of that element of foreplay the night before in our rush to fuck repeatedly. Carrie made me laugh because as the second short video ended with an overacted climax by one girl, Carrie flipped over on her back next to me and spread her legs. “Eat me, Lover.” She was even picking up the vocabulary from the men and women in the porn films.

I quickly descended onto her snatch, my tongue extended, and my fingers at the ready to show her a G-spot orgasm. I latched on with my mouth, my tongue going wild, and my fingers quickly finding just the right spot inside her sweet tasting hole. We’d done some of this earlier in the day; however, this was the whole treatment. I hoped that I was expert enough to please her.

In the span of two minutes, Carrie had about five orgasms that slammed from one part of her body to another again and again, like seismic shockwaves bouncing around inside the earth. Her screams got louder, she slapped the bed hard with both hands each time, and finally I stopped, worried that one of my neighbors might get worried and call the police.

Just for variety, I lightly fingered her ass, teasing the opening up to a knuckle and adding some spit, only making her think I might do something more serious there.

Carrie was again panting and gasping for air from the whole situation. She said, “I didn’t think that women were supposed to have that many orgasms, and certainly not from intercourse … and … you played with my rump. I didn’t know that was part of sex, but you made it so sexy and alluring.”

“Mostly I paid attention to your little clit, and that’s your orgasm center,” I said in a patronizing tone. “We haven’t even begun to have intercourse tonight - yet, but I intend to show you that a limitation about only one orgasm a night is a myth with the right man.”

“No, I know that, but you did something inside me too; something special - in my vagina. I came so hard that it was hard to focus.”

“I stroked your G-spot. It’s named after some old German doctor. It has lots of sexually-sensitive nerve endings in a small area, just like the opening of your butt.” As I talked, I thrust two fingers into her cunt and lightly stroked her G-spot again.

Carrie gasped, “Well, that old German knew what he was talking about! I’ve never had such pleasure in my whole life all added together with to what you did to me while you ate and fingered me … my G-spot.”

I smiled. “Good. I’ll see whether I can do that again real soon.”

“Do people have intercourse in their rectum?” Where were these questions coming from?

I ran a quick search on the porn website and opened one of the first anal sex videos that resulted. Part way into the film, the lead male actor stopped regular fucking, and sank his cock into the pretty actress’s asshole. She carried on like it was the greatest thing to ever happen to her. He pumped away, and she seemed to have orgasm after orgasm.

Carrie watched the laptop screen with total fascination, “Really?”

“Some people get off on it,” I explained in a neutral tone. “I’ve never done it. I think it’s more than just a small step for the woman, since it’s her ass that’s getting violated.”

“Would you do that with me?” Carrie even sounded hopeful.

“If we use a lot of lube and you’re hotter than the surface of the sun, maybe.”

“Oh, goodie. We have a growing list of new things to try.” She paused and asked, “Go back to that movie with two women having sex each other.”

I went to my browser’s history and backed up to the film entitled ‘Lesbians in Love.’

After watching for a couple of minutes, Carrie asked, “Do women really do those things together? I mean in school we kidded and teased each other about being lesbians, but none of us had any idea what that really meant.”

I nodded, “They certainly do that stuff. One of my friends who is now in California is a lesbian, and she’s been very open with me about what she does on a ‘date.’ I think it made some of what we saw a little tame. They can get as wild and have as much fun as a man and woman can.”

“Oh, wow. Maybe I could try that with some woman someday … that is, if you wouldn’t mind sharing me a little.” Carrie turned and studied my reaction to her statement. She still had her hand around my cock, so when I hardened further and surged in her hand she broke into a smile. She said, “Oh, you like that idea don’t you.

“In your diary, you wrote about one time when Marjorie told you about how she was bisexual, and had spent a night making love and fucking with a female friend of hers. That sounded so hot - like that video.” She pointed at the laptop that still showed the two gorgeous women tribbing with each other.

I thought, ‘In for a penny, in for a pound.’ I made a quick search on ‘MMF’ and clicked on a video from a site I knew had hot films aimed at women as well as men. A young girl walked onto the set pulling two men with her. Near the bed, they slowly undressed each other, she gave each man a blowjob, even taking both cocks into her mouth simultaneously, and then they took turns eating her snatch, and then making love to her. Near the end of the short film she experienced a double penetration - one lover in her ass, and the other in her cunt. She also seemed to have endless orgasms, and obviously displayed her love for both men. The film ended with a double cream pie - cum dripping from her cunt and her ass, and a shower of kisses between the girl and the men.

Carrie whispered as the film ended, “Wow. Would you do that with me too? I mean I’ll still be devoted to you, but I … well, just wow! I think that was the hottest video that I’ve even seen. I can see why so many people watch pornography. The movies are amazingly arousing. Let’s fuck.”

I leaned over and kissed Carrie, and we got really carried away and soon forgot about the computer and the porn. We were making our own.

In that short time period, I realized that I would willingly share Carrie - or someone I loved - in open sexual situations: with another man, or with another woman. The erotic nature of the situation seemed to override any compunction I had about monogamy or exclusivity. I’d never known that about myself.

A few more orgasms, and we lay together panting and pretty well spent. Carrie’s head was on my chest, and occasionally she’d kiss my pecs or even use her tongue to lick one of my nipples. Her hand continued to lightly fondle my flaccid and well used cock.

Chapter 6 - Sex Education

As we lay in our afterglows from our latest round of happy sex, Carrie said, “Is it time for the late news? I want to see what they’re saying about me.”

I reached over to the bedside table and captured the remote for my bedroom TV. I flicked it on, and we waited for the news with the sound off. When the news started, I turned up the volume.

The top news story started and still was about Princess Caroline. ‘Police report receiving several phone calls today regarding the whereabouts of Princess Caroline. One of those calls from the Fairfax area proved credible, police even retrieving a cell phone to augment their investigation.

‘Based on that call, the frantic nature of the search for the Princess has been reduced. Police have reason to believe that the Princess is reasonably safe and acting on her own, although they would like to find her and will continue their search. Police plan to revisit many of the initial leads they had in the investigation, also believing that one of them may be the key to her mysterious disappearance.’

The story continued with erroneous and idle speculation about her whereabouts, and her motivation in disappearing. The news was making her sound a little deranged or intoxicated, but didn’t come right out and say that.

As the news story ended, Carrie speculated, “That sounds like the police will come back here soon.”

“You’re probably right. We need to do something about that. You’re stamp of femininity is all over the apartment now.”

“I could try to make it disappear - return it to what it was when I first arrived.”

“No, I have a better idea, I think.”

At nine o’clock on Sunday morning, I called my friend Paul. His neighborhood roots had always made me suspect he had some loose ties to the underworld, and I wanted to tap into that dark zone. Paul answered, and a few minutes later had agreed that I could come over to his place.

Carrie and I drove the ten miles to Paul’s apartment, but she stayed in the car enthusiastically playing a game on my iPad.

I went up and talked to Paul. “I need some fake ID. I’ll pay, but I’m very naïve about this kind of thing. I need a credit card which we won’t use, but one that should have a picture on it, and a Maryland driver’s license.”

Paul laughed, “That’s easy and not too expensive - about $500 cash. How soon?”

“Immediately, if you can.”

Paul nodded and slipped to the side of the room and made a phone call, talking in inaudible tones into his phone. A minute or two later, he returned and passed me a slip of paper with an address on it. “This is Micky-J’s address. He’s waiting for you. You owe me a case of beer real soon.” He put out his hand to bump knuckles with me.

I promised the beer, and soon we were on the road again, this time heading towards College Park.

Micky-J stood about as tall as a door and about as wide. He must have played football, no doubt as a defensive back. He looked nimble … and dangerous. Nonetheless, he was cordial, especially after I paid him the $500 in cash in response to his request for up-front payment.

He had Carrie sit in front of two different drapes and wearing a shawl in a second shot. He took her picture a couple of times. A few minutes in front of a computer, the whirrs of a special printer and laminator, and the new credit card and license were done. Carrie had become Karyn Bishop.

As Micky-J finished and we made to leave, he said to her, “I’ve never met a real princess before, and may never again. It has been a pleasure helping you, and helping my friends. I wish you luck with whatever it is you’re trying to do.”

Carrie smiled at him, and then kissed his cheek after pulling his head down to her level. Micky-J blushed.

We stopped at a couple of weekend garage sales on the way home looking for an old purse and wallet. At our third sale, we found what we were looking for: a battered purse that had seen better days, and a wallet on the verge of falling to pieces. After paying a dollar for the lot, Carrie and I drove home.

I gave Carrie some cash to put in the wallet, and showed her how to display the license and credit card. I spent an hour on the Internet, and printed up some other cards on stiff paper that were typically found in a wallet. I also had an eclectic collection of small photos that helped fill out the wallet’s bulk so it looked normal for someone her age. We made everything look as though it had been in that wallet for years. Before going into the wallet, some items were put through some hammering, some soaking, a trip through the washing machine and dryer, and some more folding, bending, and mutilation. She filled the purse with some tissues, cosmetics, and several feminine products like tampons, and finally we declared the purse definitely belonged to Karyn Bishop.

Carrie stood in front of a mirror for a couple of minutes with the purse over her shoulder, the Redskins’ t-shirt, baseball cap, sunglasses, and her new tight jean shorts. She had great looking legs. She pronounced in a thoughtful voice, “I look so much like a normal person. This is so right. This is the person I want to be … providing you’re there with me.” She turned and looked adoringly at me. God, her look of love melted my soul.

I came up next to her and looked over her shoulder; I put my arms around her and nuzzled into her neck as I copped a feel of her breasts. She turned in my arms, and we were kissing, and thirty seconds later we were stripping our clothes off so we could make love.

The sunlight was streaming in my large front window, painting a bright swath across my red-toned living room carpet. Carrie said, “I want to make love in the sunlight.” She pointed at a spot on my carpeting lit by the sun, “Right there!”

We did. We coupled up and did the dirty right there on my rug. Neither of us wanted to prolong the experience. I was afraid in our rush to finish that she wouldn’t have an orgasm, but that turned out to be far from what happened.

In our afterglow, we lay side-by-side, just touching and panting until our respiratory systems regained some semblance of routine breathing.

Carrie said, “Now we need to recover for a couple of hours; so can we go somewhere out in the nice weather for a late lunch? I’d love to eat outside for a change. Please take Karyn to lunch.”

I smiled and agreed. I figured I couldn’t keep her cooped up and hidden for the rest of her life. We dressed, and drove to a nearby Panera’s where they had outdoor tables. We went through the sandwich line, plus got our soft drinks, and sat just like ‘normal’ folk did.

I felt myself laughing inside because for me this was anything but ‘normal.’ I was sitting with a princess and every cop within a thousand miles was looking for us. Then I wondered whether I’d get shot, thinking I had warped the princess’ mind, and then I’d be dismissed as collateral damage.

Carrie did attract a couple of stares from people, mostly other guys. I worried that she was being recognized, but then detected just the roaming male eye that’d spotted a hot chick that they were checking out. With her great legs and shapely body, plus the red hair and tattoos, she looked extra special. She kept the large shades on, so I wasn’t too worried about identification.

After lunch I drove us to Rock Creek Park, and we walked along with our arms around each other as we talked. There were a lot of joggers, but no one paid us any mind.

Carrie asked, “Do you suppose those two guys back at the restaurant recognized me?”

“No, not as the princess. They just thought you were hot - the same way I do.”

“Hot?”

“A dish. Somebody desirable. Someone they’d like to … make love with.”

“You mean fuck?” Carrie giggled.

“That especially,” I laughed.

Carrie opened up a new door suddenly, “When we were fucking earlier, you’d said something about dirty talk in response to some crude words I used. What did you mean?”

“Errr, this is going to corrupt you even more than I already have. Dirty talk is a kind of sexual foreplay, although it can carry on through the entire lovemaking act or be ever constant between love birds. It means using graphic words and painting pictures of lewd acts that turn you and your partner on. Often, what’s said is more alluring than what we’re seeing.”

“What’s an example?”

I nuzzled into Carrie’s neck and said, “I would like to take you over on that grassy knoll, pull your clothes off, and lick your pussy until you started to scream as you have one orgasm after another. When you’d attracted a crowd of people, I’d invite some of the handsome men to come and join me. I’d let them show their prowess in bringing you to orgasm, too. You could hold a cock in each hand, suck on another, and meanwhile I’d be pumping my cock into your sweet warm pussy. You’d have so many orgasms you’d be crying with joy.” I spoke slowly and deliberately as I made up my short scenario.

“Oh, wow. You just made me all wet between my legs.”

“That’s the idea. I want you so worked up sexually that when we walk in the door of the apartment, you’ll jump my bones and not let me go until I’ve satisfied every sexual urge you have.”

“Oh, you say the sweetest things. I like that idea ,too; but it will take at least a hundred years to satisfy my new sexual urges. Tell me more about foreplay.”

I laughed, “Babe, you have led a sheltered life.”

“You don’t know the half of it. The only reason I know how to cuss is that I listened to some of the construction men working on parts of the private schools that I attended. I compared notes with some of my classmates, and together we worked up a good vocabulary. My father told me I was never to use those words in public when I blurted out a few of them at some event and he heard me. I didn’t know better at the time.”

I said, “Foreplay is all the physical and emotional things we do to each other to get us ready to have sex. It’s the teasing and arousing, the words - like talking dirty to each other, touching, stroking, sexy leering at each other, and anything else that signals I want to make love to you - to bury my cock in your pussy and fill you with my cum.” I cautiously added, “It’s also just spending time with each other, being attentive and romantic, and using nice words about love and caring.”

“Oh, yes, but what are the words I should be using for dirty talk and dirty foreplay?”

“Usually, words like penis, intercourse, vagina, labia, and such are too clinical. In dirty talk you’d use words like cock, schlong, prick, or dick; fucking, plowing, boning, or balling; pussy, fur pie, gash, twat, quim, or cunt, and lots of other terms. You can look them up on the Internet. There are hundreds of them.”

“Oh, I will, … and I do want you to stick you long schlong into my cunt, and fuck the daylights out of me until my fur hole is dripping in your man juice.”

“Very good, and I promise I will. Let’s head home. I want to be attentive to your tight little fur hole and fill it up with my cum.”

* * * * *

The police came again on Monday evening.

There was a knock on the door, and Carrie raced into the bedroom stripping her clothes off as I went to open the door. I wondered why she was doing that. We’d just finished take-out Chinese and had been sitting at the table talking. I glimpsed her purse sitting on the counter, and her girlish jacket on the end of the sofa. I took a deep breath.