Page 43 of Down and Dirty

The little people were naked, and bouncing, and, oh, my!…

“Britta,” Zachary called out as he passed through the scullery and into the solar where he came to a halt when he saw what they were watching on the box. “What the hell are you guys doing?”

“Watching an orgasm,” Britta said, lifting her chin defiantly.

The four of them — Britta, Hilda, Madrene, and Kirstin — were sitting in the solar, still watching the man and woman having orgasms. What did he think they were doing?

“I can see that,” Zachary said, then smiled. “Madrene, the boss is gonna kill you if he sees what you have on the tube.” Just then, Zachary seemed to notice Britta’s face and hair. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

She was not sure if that was a compliment or not.

“Nay, Ian will not be upset with me for watching Sex and the City,” Madrene told him. “He knows that it gets my sap rising.”

“Way more information than I need to know!” Zachary laughed.

“Why were you calling me?” Britta asked him.

“Oh. I need your help.”

“With what?”

The other women chuckled as if they had a pretty good idea what he needed help with. Orgasms, no doubt.

“Sammy,” Zachary said.

Huh?

“Come on, let’s take him for a walk on the beach.”

As they walked upstairs, side by side, to get Sammy, she noticed Zachary gaping at her.

“What? You do not like my makeup?”

“I love your makeup. Especially the wild, sex-tossed hair and the red lip gloss.”

“Did you just insult me?”

“Hardly. I’d like nothing more than to kiss your sweet mouth till it was red and glossy, just from my kisses.”

More pearling and throbbing, just from words now. Britta was beginning to feel like a sinking ship.

Sometimes heroes were of the female persuasion…

They were walking along the beach at the water’s edge, collecting seashells. There were already a considerable number in their pockets.

Almost like a normal family, she thought. What would it be like to have a husband to love me, and a son of our loins? What foolishness! That life was not for her. Still, that soul-ache that had beset Britta of late assailed her now.

Zachary took her hand in his as they watched Sammy drop down to his knees in the surf, digging for sand crabs. The giggle that escaped Sammy’s lips surprised them both, and Britta realized how rarely the little boy seemed happy.

She glanced at Zachary and saw the smile he’d flashed at Sammy’s giggle quickly fade to be replaced by the worry, something that she was coming to realize was the norm when he was with his son. In fact, his gaze continually darted right and left, as if on alert for some danger.

“Why are you so worried?”

“Sammy’s grandfather is a world-class bad guy, an Afghan terrorist, and he wants Sammy.”

“Oh,” Britta said, beginning to understand the danger.

“Arsallah would be nuts to attempt a kidnapping here where entry could only be by air or sea. He couldn’t sneak in by land, undetected, with so many people strolling on the beach and Wilson posted out front. Plus there are a half dozen SEALs here to back me up. And we’re all armed.” He patted a bulge under his flower shert. “Still… ”