Princess Ch. 02

"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. Tell me more about foreplay too."

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 school 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 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, and anything else that signals I want to make love to you - to bury my cock in your pussy and fill you with 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. 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.

Two detectives were there, one of who had been in the first group. I invited them in instead of putting up a stink or asking whether they had warrants and all. I didn't want to act suspiciously.

"Mr. Westerly, we're just revisiting all the leads in the Princess Caroline case again. I'd like to go over last Thursday night with you again."

"Sure."

"Could you recount what the night was like for you, and anything you might remember about the people around you? Please don't worry about telling us the same thing over again, just be as complete as you can."

I stated, "Well, I met my friends Paulie, Bart, Billy, and Dave as agreed in the Washingtonian bar at eight o'clock. Dave now lives in Kansas City, and had flown in for a meeting on Friday before he went back home that night; he was staying at the hotel. We were all college buddies at the U. of M. I think it was more like eight-thirty before we were all there. We got our first round of beers, ordered dinner in no rush, and started to talk about guy things: our jobs, cars, girlfriends, and almost everything under the sun, even some politics. We stretched out the drinks, ogled a few pretty women - four cougars - who came in as a group, but they had only one drink and then they all left. I wasn't facing the door, so I didn't see too many of the people passing by the bar area; Paul or Bart might have. I got tired as the time neared midnight and I had to work on Friday morning. We were pretty well talked out by then anyway. I said goodbye to everyone, and headed off to my car. Let's see, I crossed the lobby to the garage elevator. No one was around. I left the hotel without seeing anybody other than the desk clerk, I took the elevator up to level three where I'd parked, got in my car and drove home. I didn't see anybody in the garage. It took me about a half hour to get home."

The other detective had been taking notes. He asked, "Did you stop in the men's room on your way to your car?"

I thought, "No. I'd gone about a half-hour before I left. I didn't pay much attention to anyone else wandering around on that trip. The bathrooms were right next to the door into the bar."

There was some other conversation about when and where I'd walked through the hotel, and what I'd seen or hadn't seen. I thought it was all pretty predictable. The questions were predicated on me being an observer, rather than a participant in the princess's disappearance.

The first detective showed me a picture of Princess Caroline. She was even posed in a diamond tiara and looked positively regal. "You've never seen this woman?"

"Yes, I have - everyone has; on television recently, and she does sort of look like my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" the second detective asked. "What's her name? Was she with you?"

"Karyn Bishop, and she was not with me at the hotel that night. She was out and about doing her own thing."

"Is she here?"

I yelled in the general direction of the bedroom, "Hey, Kar. You decent?" I had no idea what would happen next.

A few seconds later, Carrie cracked open the bedroom door a few seconds later and leaned out. "I amnot dressed, but I am pretty decent, do you want to ... Oh! Good evening gentlemen."

I quickly explained, "These are two detectives here because I was at the hotel where Princess Caroline was staying."

She said, "Jim said you'd come a few days ago? Was he helpful?" She sort of grimaced before giving a large smile.

I almost burst out laughing. Carrie had a towel loosely wrapped around her small form, with her shoulders bare and her well-endowed tits nearly bubbling over the edge. She was small enough that the towel came to mid-thigh, and did not reveal anything significant below the waist. When she jiggled I thought I could see the edge of one areola. She oozed sex appeal, and even a slight movement resulted in oscillating waves of boob flesh that solidly anchored the men's eyes to her breasts in hope that one or both might spring free of the wrapping. The barbed wire tattoos on her arms were quite visible, along with the rose on her neck that now had a long stem that went down beside one breast and disappeared under the towel. More than that, she'd packed tissues in her mouth to puff out her cheeks, and she had skin cream all over the lower part of her face and her neck. I barely recognized her.

"You're English," the second detective said rapidly. A sharp observation given the obvious nature of her accent.

"Yes. Wanted to come to the states for college seven years ago. That's sort of how I met Jim." I thought, 'Ah, nothing but the truth - disguised a little, of course.'

There was a silence, and Carrie said, "If you don't need me, I'm about to hop into the shower ... all alone I guess." She waited all of five seconds for a response, didn't get one, and so she gave a sexy wave goodbye that sort of teased us, and shut the door. Our mouths were hanging open.

I gestured to the door. "I think I'm needed in there to be sure her back is clean, if you know what I mean."

The detectives nodded knowingly and left a few seconds later, having done their due diligence with yet another person who happened to have been at the hotel that night. As the door shut, I started to breathe again.

I had been a lot less nervous this time around, even with Carrie in the apartment. I did worry when she first appeared that the disguise and ruse had not worked. From the window, I watched the detectives drive away without further concern.

I went in and helped my princess become as squeaky clean as soap and elbow grease would allow. I think there were a couple of orgasms involved too, and lots of washing of things sexual.

* * * * *

We got more and more relaxed about appearing in public after the second visit by the police, the one where Carrie stuck her face in front of them. Between the red hair, the tattoos, the tissues stuffed in her cheeks, and the face cream, she only resembled the missing princess.

Midweek, I brought home another burner phone. This time we drove to Landover, Maryland, and she called her local embassy. She got one of the mid-level diplomats on the phone, gave her safe word, explained who she was and why she was calling, and explained that she was fine, living a new life, and didn't want the police or various security services trying to chase her down. I timed the call - three minutes and twenty seconds, most of that spent trying to get to someone relatively important who would listen to her.

This time I had her give several other key pieces of information about her life that only those close to her would know. She chose to mention three things: the name she'd given her teddy bear as a child, a particular name she'd called her sister when she was teasing her in their early teens, and the name of the color she insisted on having in her palace bedroom - desert rose. For certain, this would establish the authenticity of the call. We also left the cell phone with her fingerprints on it sitting on top of a traffic light signal control box so it was hard to miss, and we told the embassy rep where to look for it. We made sure there were no traffic cams around.

Carrie and I were in a small Italian bistro enjoying a pasta dinner when I saw a glimmer of recognition in one of the other patron's faces. I tried to ignore the look, but this was not some guy who'd spotted a hot chick. He knew. We were nearly finished, so I tossed fifty bucks on the table, and we hustled out of the restaurant. As luck would have it, I'd had to park half a block away and out of sight from the restaurant. As I drove out of the neighborhood with the restaurant, I saw two police cars racing towards the place.

When we got home, we waited for quite a while expecting a knock on the door. None came.

* * * * *

Two days later, Carrie and I went to dinner at TGIFridays - a popular and noisy sports bar kind of place. This place was located in one of the shopping malls, a fact that made it take thirty minutes to get from the door of the mall to the restaurant, mainly because the route went past a dozen other shops, each of which attracted great attention from the princess.

At the restaurant, Carrie pushed the sunglasses on top of her head so she could read the menu and order.

The waitress came and stared at Carrie. She finally said, "You know, you really look like that missing princess."

Carrie smiled and said, "Thank you. My boyfriend thinks I'm better looking." She glanced over at me and I smiled at the girl. "Since all that commotion started a week or so ago, I've been stopped a couple of times a day by people asking. Who would've thought? Of course, I even have the English accent to make them stop and think too."

The remarks seemed to satisfy the waitress that she had a 'look-alike,' so nothing further was said by her.

Again, however, as we walked out of the restaurant, a woman sitting with her husband and two young children locked onto Carrie's face like radar seeing an enemy jet. I saw the look, and there was no 'maybe' in her look at all. As we passed by her table, I saw her reaching for her cellphone.

We got outside the restaurant door, and I said to Carrie, "Run to the car. Don't stop for anything."

We hustled to the nearest exit, and then broke into a real run. I had the car started and moving in fifteen seconds, and we were just leaving the mall onto one of the main roads, when a police car with lights and siren whipped past us onto the mall road.

* * * * *

I told Carrie, "Sooner or later, you're going to have to make a public appearance and square off about your new life with the public and the authorities. They will keep looking until they find you."

She admitted, "I guess I was a little naïve to think they'd stop if I asked them to."

I nodded. There wasn't much I could say, except to hold her and support her as she weathered the transition she was trying to make. I had subtly tested each day to be sure that leaving her 'palace life' was what she wanted. She became more and more adamant about not going back, even if it meant a schism with her family.

More important to me, I also tested in a dozen ways the level of her commitment to me as a boyfriend. I knew I was head over heels in love with her, but I didn't want to impose myself on her, if she wanted to head back to her 'palace life.'

At breakfast the day after the second restaurant episode, Carrie asked, "How could we make some kind of announcement without blowing everything apart?"

"I know one person who works for a local TV station. She does occasional reports on the news, but more often writes copy behind the scenes."

"Who? Would she keep the confidence?"

"Marjorie, and I'm sure she'd help if I asked her. She owes me."

"Yes, she owes you. Call her today. I didn't realize she was into TV and radio. I sense that she's a nice person." I saw more than a flicker of recognition to the name Marjorie in Carrie's face. I had written extensively about Marge in my journal that Carrie had read, so I figured that was why there was the recognition.

When I called Marjorie, it had been almost six weeks since she'd walked out the door. She answered her cell on the first ring.

"Jimmy, I'm so glad that you called. I've wanted to say many things to you, but some how I couldn't take the first step. Thank you." She sounded contrite and sincere.

"Hey, I understand. We had some chemistry, but not the ultimate."

Marjorie sounded especially rueful, "I'm not so sure. I think I didn't know 'ultimate' when it smacked me in the face. I've left Matt, and actually I want you to know that we were never even together. I didn't go to Cancun with him. I only saw him one more time after I left you to say goodbye. We weren't even an item. I've been back in my condo living alone and trying to get my head on straight. I don't want to do to anybody else what I did to you. I'm so sorry. I've cried a lot because I miss you." I caught a rough edge to her voice, as though she were on the verge of crying.

"Eh, let's put that behind us." I paused and said, "I'm calling for another reason actually, and one I'd like to explain to you over drinks this evening if you're free. It's partly business and a real opportunity for you - a huge opportunity."

"I'm free after six or so."

"How about meeting me at Jacques at six-thirty. We can have a drink and talk if you're up for it."

I still had a thing for Marjorie, at least that's what my heart said after I'd ended the call. I did miss the woman, for all her faults and more.

I worked most of the day at my office, but I made an errand for Carrie on the way home getting home at five-thirty. I got a magnificent welcome that turned into a quickie on our bed.

We left the house at six-fifteen, and were just at the lounge just down the street from my condo at six-thirty. I went in and determined that we had beaten Marjorie there. I waited outside for her; Carrie waited in the car with sunglasses and baseball hat hiding her visage.

The errand I'd done on the way home for her was to pick up another wig, this one with long brown hair, something close to her original hair color and length. After she put it on, she had definitely reestablished the 'princess look.' She also put on an ascot that covered up the tattoo on her neck, and wore a longer sleeve shirt so the tats on her arm didn't show.

Marjorie drove into the parking lot and tooted her horn at me. I waved and walked to her car. She was out and came up to me close to my car.

Marjorie gave me a large hug and kiss. "I miss you; I really do." She looked longingly at me, and my heart sort of melted. I had that terrible dilemma where I suddenly had two women vying for my attention. Awkward! I pushed those feelings aside to focus on today's goal.

"I miss you too. Now, come and let me blow you away."

Marjorie looked a little confused by what I meant; however, she followed me to my car. As we neared the car, Carrie stepped out. She peeled off the hat and sunglasses.

Marjorie stopped in her tracks about ten feet away and audibly said to no one in particular, "Holy shit. You're kidding me, right?"

I did the formal introductions, "Marjorie, this is Princess Caroline. Princess Caroline, this is my friend Marjorie Henson."

Marjorie actually curtsied and bowed. She muttered, "This is such an honor, to meet you ... in person ... your majesty."

Carrie laughed, "Marjorie, stand up and get in the car. I don't want people paying attention to me." She held her arms open for a female hug.

"Oh, yes. Yes. I'm sorry, your majesty."

"And stop all the royal crap. Please call me Carrie from now on and stop being obsequious."

The two women hugged and I heard a mutter from Carrie that I missed as I walked around the car to get in to the driver's seat.

The three of us got in the car and I drove away with Marjorie in the front seat and Carrie in the back. As we drove, Carrie peeled off the wig, removed her long-sleeve jacket, and undid a scarf that covered her 'tattooed' neck. She became Karyn Bishop again.

Marjorie asked the two of us questions, starting with where Carrie had been for the past nine days. She was blown away to learn that she'd been with me, and that we had developed a serious relationship. We told her everything.

Carrie talked about how she found her hotel room had an emergency exit into one of the hotel's stairwells. The security force was assembled outside the main door off the hallway, so they didn't see her leave by the back door. She told about walking down stairs to the garage levels, and then searching for an unlocked car to hide in. From there she told the rest of her story. I chimed in here and there to remind her of events.

I stopped at a Tex-Mex restaurant and got takeout for the three of us. We drove to my condo and carried everything up and ate there. Carrie had straightened up, and things were neat as a pin. I could tell that Marjorie noticed.

There was some strange chemistry between Marjorie and Carrie, but I initially chalked it up to the American woman-British royalty situation.

We talked more over dinner about what Carrie wanted and didn't want in her life. Marjorie listened.

Finally, Marjorie said, "What do you want me to do?"

Carrie summed it up, "I want you to interview me on TV in a way that I can lay out what I'm doing, and how I want to be left alone. I'll put the princess wig on and go back to 'princess mode,' as Jim calls it. We can cover up my pretend tattoos if I can't get them to wash off."

"Would you come to the studio?"

"As long as the broadcast isn't live, and we can sneak in and out."

"I'll set it up, without telling anybody what it's about. Oh, this is so exciting. What else can I do for you?" Again, I felt that strange undercurrent.

Carrie indicated with a little finger motion that I should make myself scarce. I went into the bedroom to change out of my work slacks into jeans, and to wash up. I could hear their low voices in the other room. I knew something was 'up' when I heard Marjorie say in a loud voice that rose an octave or two, "You're kidding? Really?" The voices went back to being hushed again. My curiosity bubbled over.

I came back into the living room, and sat down on the sofa next to Carrie. Marjorie got up and sat beside me so I was in the middle.

Marjorie softly said, "Carrie told me that you really miss me in a romantic way." There was that touch of hopefulness in her tone.

I felt caught between the two women. I jerked my head around to look at Carrie, and she gave me an encouraging nod.