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. Their 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-three, 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 if she gives 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 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 than I was.

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 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 bra 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. She said that she found it 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.