What Feats He Did That Day Pt. 02

"I need to see you when you get back, Richard. My office?"

"We're right behind you, Rachel," I said.

It took us a little longer, of course. When we had Dan with us, I made an effort to keep his pace. On Tuesdays, Allie was happy to walk along at mine.

"Oooh," she said. "Must be a promotion, huh?"

"I'm sure that's it," I agreed. "Chief Obituary Writer, probably."

I wheeled myself up to the door to Rachel's office when we returned, and stopped short when I saw Shawn in there. I debated for a moment whether I should knock and announce myself or wait until Shawn was finished. Of course, I did use that moment to admire the view. Shawn was perched on Rachel's desk, kicking her long legs slightly back and forth. She was wearing a tight, short skirt once again, along with a white blouse and a silver necklace. As usual, Rachel's dress was more conservative. The skirt of her pale blue suit almost reached her knees, and her heels were a good inch shorter than Shawn's. Still, she could play in my dreams anytime she wanted.

"Rick." Rachel caught sight of me waiting and waved me in to join them.

"The Governor has decided to take a spur-of-the-moment vacation," Rachel explained. "So he'll be away starting this weekend for the next -- what, two weeks?"

Shawn nodded.

"While school's in session?" I asked. "I thought his kids were in junior high or something."

"One's thirteen, the other's nine," Shawn explained. "This is a men-only trip. Dove-hunting."

"So anyway," Rachel said, "Shawn's asked for some time off, too. Which means we need someone to substitute at the statehouse."

"It's not like anything's going to happen," Shawn assured me.

"I'm sure that Richard could handle it if it did," Rachel said.

Shawn shrugged.

"You want me to cover the statehouse?" I asked.

"I do," Rachel said. "How 'bout it?"

I fought to keep the grin off my face, to keep them from knowing how eager I was.

"Who's gonna do the obits?"

Shawn laughed.

"It's not like it's going to take you the whole day, Hando."

Rachel shot her a glare.

"It's true, Rach," Shawn said with another laugh. "His press secretary's going with him, which means that Krissy Mackley is going to be doing the availabilities. They wouldn't let her announce her own resignation for fear she'd fuck it up and announce she'd been appointed governor."

Rachel turned back to me.

"She's right, Rick. Miss Mackley will hand out announcements at 10, and you can give the press office your cell phone number in case they need to get in touch with you. You don't need to be there full time."

"So you want me to do the obits and the state house?" I tried to keep my voice from seeming whiny, apparently without success.

"It's an opportunity, Rick," Rachel said. "The state's not going to shut down just because the governor's on vacation. You can keep any story that comes up while Shawn is gone. But she's right. You don't need to be there all day. The statehouse is about a mile from your apartment, in the other direction. So I'm thinking that you spend the morning there, and the afternoon working out of your apartment writing obituaries. I know you won't be able to get as many done and that's fine. You tell me which ones you want to write, and Alison, Dan, and I will do the others. Some can just wait."

I paused a moment. It was a lot of work. It could turn out to be shit. But it was an opportunity. And there had been precious few during my newspaper career.

"I'll do it."

"Good man." Rachel nodded. "You start Monday. Call in every day. You have the code for our intranet?"

I finally let them see the grin. I would be damned if I didn't file at least a story every other day. If Rachel didn't want to run it, that was her decision.

********

"Hello, my name is --"

"Oh, for Chrissake. Look here, Charlie. Five fingers."

Inigo gave me a quizzical look, but his sword never wavered.

"Then tell me why you wear the glove."

That was a damn good question. I found myself wondering why it hadn't occurred to him in last night's dream. Of course, if we'd used the fucking "save" button, I wouldn't be having to try to answer it.

"It was cheap," I said. I had no fucking idea why I had the glove on. Wizen probably had bought it at some Army surplus store. I threw it on the ground.

"Fair enough. Who are you?"

"Handley. Ri -- just Handley will be fine."

"What brings you to Spain, Handley?"

"I heard there was a master here."

"We have plenty of masters. Roberto over there is a master of bakery. Carlos is a master wheelwright."

"I'm looking for a master swordsman."

"Ah, a master swordsman. I'm afraid I have been here two weeks, my friend, and I have yet to find a master swordsman."

"I see. Well, how about I buy you a drink and we talk it over?"

I nodded at the tavern across the street. Inigo smiled and sheathed his sword.

"It is a thirsty town," he agreed.

I ordered us whiskeys, and paid with a coin I found in my pocket. Afterwards, I had my first fencing lesson.

"What did you learn?"

"That I'm going to have to go through this 'prepare to die' shit every goddamn night," I muttered.

"I beg your -- oh, your 'save' setting."

"Yes," I said, mimicking his voice. "My 'save' setting."

"Well, of course, you didn't ask for it until after last night's session was over," Wizen said. "That would be like saving a video game after the game was over, wouldn't it?"

I sat up.

"So you put it in tonight?"

"Of course." Wizen smiled at me. "A relatively simple matter. An excellent idea really. I'm disappointed I didn't think of it myself."

"Yeah, well. Don't beat yourself up over it. So it will work next time?"

"Of course."

It worked quite well, actually. Fencing is a demanding pursuit, requiring a combination of agility, anticipation, stamina, intelligence, and strength. Inigo praised my anticipation and intelligence. He appreciated the strength of my arms. Well of course I had fucking strong arms. The rest of it -- my footwork and my stamina -- were going to need some work.

I found myself racing through the next three days at work. In addition to my usual obituaries, I was churning out stories about people whose deaths would normally go unnoticed by the good people of Charleston. Like the woman who held the record for the most consecutive victories in the Betty Crocker Cook-off. It turned out to be a fascinating story, largely because her sister was such "good copy." But normally we probably would not have even printed the two-graph AP story, let alone a ten-inch feature with a picture. I intended to bank a whole set of obits that Rachel could use while I was gone. That would give me more time to work on whatever stories I found at the statehouse. I set it up to go to Rachel next Tuesday.

And then there were the nights. As Alison had said, it was just like TV. Goldman's wonderful Princess Bride was filled with tales of all sorts of fencing attacks and maneuvers; it was even better than chess. I learned them all: the Agrippa, the Capoferro, Bonetti's attack, the Thibault. Some of them hadn't even been in the movie; I apparently was importing them from the book. No truncated screenplay was going to interfere with my dreams.

Every night was something new, something different. I tasted my sweat. I felt the flat of Inigo's blade when I made a mistake. And I smelled fear.

On Sunday night, we were practicing in the town square. Inigo drove me in and out of the fountain, making me conscious of my footing, forcing me to make the water my ally. After an hour we looked at each other. We both smiled.

"You are tired?" he asked.

"No more than you," I said with a smile.

"You are both tired," came a snide voice from my right. We turned together. Ten men sat astride Arabian stallions. Apparently we had been so intent on the lesson that we hadn't heard them approach.

"And we are not, mi amigos," their leader said. "So if you would have your townspeople bring us their gold and jewelry, we will head back to the hills."

They were bandits. I caught a glimpse of Inigo out of the corner of my eye and found him wearing the same smile that I knew was on my face.

"Perhaps we are not as tired as you think, señor," Inigo suggested.

He assumed a fighting stance.

I joined him, and we stood side-by-side as the bandits dismounted and drew swords of their own.

"You're full of shit, you know," I muttered out of the side of my mouth. "We're exhausted."

"So I was right," he said quietly, his voice quivering with life. "They believe us only tired. Now!"

We leapt toward them, our blades flashing in perfect synchrony. The first to fall was stabbed through the gut by Inigo. I brought the second down with an elegant riposte.

Our success caused a quick change in our opponents' tactics. They all took a step backward and then fanned out to surround us. Inigo and I moved to stand with our backs to each other. As they advanced again, our swords wove an invisible, impenetrable shield.

The third bandit joined his compadres on the ground. His throat had been pierced by my thrust. Inigo laughed at my success and then quickly dispatched two more. The other five paused. Inigo and I looked over our shoulders and turned joyously to the attack. We were far too joyous for our opponents. They fled, leaving their horses and a satchel of money that had probably come from the last town they had robbed. We treated ourselves to whiskey. We treated the townsfolk to whiskey.

And they treated us to their most beautiful women.

"I am Aliana," said the sultry brunette whose arm was wrapped around me.

"And I am Carmen," said the raven-haired beauty who seemed determined to express her appreciation to Inigo.

"Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya," my friend said. He was well ahead of me in whiskey by this point.

"Oh, fuck," I mumbled.

"Inigo," Carmen said. "What a lovely name."

"And what's your name?" Aliana purred.

"My name?" My voice emerged as a sort of squeak, not at all the image I was hoping for.

"His name is Handley," Inigo said, his voice slurring even more as he downed another shot. "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya."

"You already said that, honey," Carmen said with a throaty laugh.

"And you are handy?" Aliana asked me.

The two women giggled.

"Handy, yes. Well, Handley, actually. I mean . . ."

She had heard enough. She pulled herself closer, pressing a soft, full breast into my chest and soft, full lips into mine. She pressed her soft hand into my crotch and that filled quickly as well. Not to the point of overflowing, thank the Lord, but full and definitely not soft.

She drew back, leaving my mouth aching for hers, and pulled me to my feet. She took my hands in hers and stepped backward, tugging at me to follow. Her eyes laughed as we slowly made our way up the stairs behind the tavern's counter. She was clad in a ruffled dress that was at once elegant and ill fitting. The dress was a brilliant red, with long sleeves that began just below her bare shoulders. It was too long and too tight, as if sewn for her taller, less well-endowed friend. Carmen was probably a woman of means, Aliana a woman who could not afford such a dress on her own.

I laughed back at her and pulled her toward me for a kiss. As we reached the top of the stairs, I swept her into my arms and laid her lightly on one of the beds.

That was the extent of our tenderness. She grabbed me by the lapels of my tunic and yanked me down upon her. My mouth devoured hers. She put a hand around my neck to hold me to her. She pushed me away with the other, and answered the puzzled look on my face by pulling my head down, moaning with delight as my lips touched her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, and finally the curves of her breasts. She took the hand off my chest and tugged down her dress to expose the nipple to me. Aliana cooed her satisfaction as my lips fastened around it.

"But you are the hero," she said not ten seconds later, "and I the prize."

She pushed me onto my back and rolled onto her side. A frantic hand stole upward and began unbuttoning my shirt. Each time a button came loose the rough cotton fabric was replaced with a pair of wet, hungry lips.

"Aliana," I moaned.

"Hush, querido mio," she whispered. She was kissing her way down my stomach. My shirt was open, and her hand was on my braided leather belt. She opened it and pulled it through the loops, slowly, her tongue against her upper teeth. And when she had it in her hands, she lifted it to her mouth, and tickled the end with the tip of her tongue as she fixed me with her gaze. Her hand was on my groin by then, and she could feel the effect of her display on me.

She tossed the belt aside as her hand slipped under my trousers, sliding in and down, the fingers finding and encircling my hard prick. I moaned as she began to squeeze and stroke it in a manner both gentle and fervent.

Fervent won. She knelt beside me and pulled my pants down my thighs. With heavily lidded eyes she climbed astride my calves, sitting on her knees. I had not noticed the she had stripped herself as well, at least down to the waist, ripping the bodice of her gown to reveal her torso.

Her long hair spread itself over my stomach as her head dropped to my lap. I felt her tongue on the base of my shaft. I squirmed beneath her as she languorously licked her way up to the tip. And I groaned as her lips parted ever so slightly and slid down over the head, pausing every half inch to give a delightfully slow suck.

"Aliana," I panted.

"Mmmm?"

I parted her hair and lifted it away from her face. I looked down at her, her mouth surrounding almost my entire dick, her eyes asking what I could possibly want to talk to her about that was more important than this.

"Please," I said. "On top."

With a big smile on her face, she got up and stepped out of the dress. She was completely naked. She pirouetted before me, showing off her luxuriant thatch and her perfect ass. And then she hopped back on and took my cock in hand to fit between her thighs.

"Madre de Dios," she murmured as she sank down atop me, enveloping me in hot, wet velvet. Alternately going up and down like a carousel ride and back and forth like a belly dancer, she soon had me on the edge of an enormous climax.

The door slammed open behind her. Aliana looked over her shoulder and I tried to look around her.

"Carmen--!" Aliana said with surprise.

"My name is Inigo Montoya has fallen asleep, leaving me without a man," Carmen said.

I could see her now, walking up behind Aliana. She too appeared to be naked.

"May we share?" she asked. One hand stole around Aliana's body, cupping and squeezing her generous breast. I felt the other on my balls, gently cupping them as well. She leaned forward to kiss Aliana on the shoulder. "Please?"

"Mmmm." Aliana relaxed backward into her friend's kiss. "On one condition."

Aliana had raised herself off me, and I could feel Carmen's hands exploring the base of my cock, testing its girth, guessing at its length.

"Yes," Carmen whispered.

"For tonight I am the mistress," Aliana crowed, "and you are the servant."

"Yes." Carmen shuddered, and sank out of my sight. I could feel her hot breath on my groin, and the occasional touch of her tongue told me that she was using it to satisfy both me and my companion.

I came soon afterward. And while I rested, Aliana and her employer put on an exhibition that limited my rest to the bare minimum. I rejoined them, and we made love throughout the night.

"What did you learn?" Wizen asked when the inner dream was over.

"Good teamwork," I told him, "is an absolute delight."

"Wonderful," Wizen said. "You and Montoya? You fought as a team?"

"That too, Wizen. That too."