Pontowski told her, pulling off his helmet.
Kate turned to him, her eyes wide and unblinking as she removed her helmet. Then her hands pulled at the quick release on her safety harness and it fell away. She reached for Pontowski’s face and pulled him to her as she twisted in the seat. Her mouth was on his as her tongue explored his mouth. “Please, please,” she whispered.
Her fingers pulled at the leg clips on her parachute and the straps fell away. He released her chest strap and she shrugged off the parachute harness. She came out of the seat in a fluid motion. He crawled out of the cockpit as she ran around the tail of the airplane and threw herself into his arms. Her mouth captured his tongue and she sucked. At the same time, she tugged at his shirt. Suddenly she pushed back and proclaimed, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” She pulled free and ran for the bushes, unbuttoning her jeans.
Pontowski looked around and saw a cloud of dust coming down the road toward them. “A car’s coming,” he said. Kate’s head bobbed up from behind a bush.
A sheriff’s patrol car pulled up and stopped. “Everything okay here?” the deputy asked, a big smile on his face. He was looking at the bushes where Kate had disappeared.
A scream answered him and Kate ran out of the bushes, pulling up her pants. “A scorpion bit me!” she shouted.
“Where?” Pontowski asked.
She turned and pulled down one side of her jeans and panties, revealing a red mark on a well-shaped buttock. “Oh, dear,” the deputy said. “One of us will just have to suck it out.”
FIVE
The White House
Maddy Turner stood in the shower and let the hot water course over her head. Forty-seven , she thought. The water felt good and she turned up the pressure. Her skin tingled and came alive and, for a moment, she was young again. She turned off the water, wrapped a big towel around herself, and stepped out of the shower. Automatically, she checked the clock. Just after 5:00 A.M. Who’s the master here? You or me? She knew the answer. She was a slave to the clock.
She toweled her hair, feeling rested and fresh after a good night’s sleep. Then the number was back. Forty-seven. How many good years do I have left? She reached for the hair dryer and her towel fell away. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Would a man still find me attractive? As quickly as it came, the thought was gone and she pulled on a white terry-cloth robe to finish drying her hair. She heard the knock at the door.
It was Mary, one of the duty officers who rotated the night shift in the residence. “Madame President, I’m sorry to disturb you but since I saw your light on—” She didn’t finish the sentence. The light in question was the motion-detector system that tracked the president’s movements in the White House.
“It’s okay,” Maddy said. “I was awake. What’s the problem?”
“The watch officer just received a message from the CIA and thought you should see it. It’s a category three.”
Maddy’s heart stopped racing. A category-three message only required the president’s attention.
“The watch officer said it’s about the exchange of a nuclear weapon and you would want to know about it.”
“Please call my maid,” Maddy said, still drying her hair. She reached out and traced a 47 on the foggy mirror.
Maura and Sarah were finishing their breakfast when Maddy joined them. “I’m famished,” she said, sitting down. Two small gifts and an array of cards were in front of her.
“Happy Birthday, Mom,” Sarah sang. She bounced out of her chair, handed Maddy another card, and kissed her on the cheek. Maddy opened Sarah’s card first. It was a hand-painted sketch of flowers blended with real rose petals. “I made it in art class,” Sarah announced. The inscription inside wished her a happy forty-seventh birthday and more flowers twisted around the numbers.
“It’s beautiful, darling. Thank you.” She opened the other cards. One
Kate turned to him, her eyes wide and unblinking as she removed her helmet. Then her hands pulled at the quick release on her safety harness and it fell away. She reached for Pontowski’s face and pulled him to her as she twisted in the seat. Her mouth was on his as her tongue explored his mouth. “Please, please,” she whispered.
Her fingers pulled at the leg clips on her parachute and the straps fell away. He released her chest strap and she shrugged off the parachute harness. She came out of the seat in a fluid motion. He crawled out of the cockpit as she ran around the tail of the airplane and threw herself into his arms. Her mouth captured his tongue and she sucked. At the same time, she tugged at his shirt. Suddenly she pushed back and proclaimed, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” She pulled free and ran for the bushes, unbuttoning her jeans.
Pontowski looked around and saw a cloud of dust coming down the road toward them. “A car’s coming,” he said. Kate’s head bobbed up from behind a bush.
A sheriff’s patrol car pulled up and stopped. “Everything okay here?” the deputy asked, a big smile on his face. He was looking at the bushes where Kate had disappeared.
A scream answered him and Kate ran out of the bushes, pulling up her pants. “A scorpion bit me!” she shouted.
“Where?” Pontowski asked.
She turned and pulled down one side of her jeans and panties, revealing a red mark on a well-shaped buttock. “Oh, dear,” the deputy said. “One of us will just have to suck it out.”
FIVE
The White House
Maddy Turner stood in the shower and let the hot water course over her head. Forty-seven , she thought. The water felt good and she turned up the pressure. Her skin tingled and came alive and, for a moment, she was young again. She turned off the water, wrapped a big towel around herself, and stepped out of the shower. Automatically, she checked the clock. Just after 5:00 A.M. Who’s the master here? You or me? She knew the answer. She was a slave to the clock.
She toweled her hair, feeling rested and fresh after a good night’s sleep. Then the number was back. Forty-seven. How many good years do I have left? She reached for the hair dryer and her towel fell away. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Would a man still find me attractive? As quickly as it came, the thought was gone and she pulled on a white terry-cloth robe to finish drying her hair. She heard the knock at the door.
It was Mary, one of the duty officers who rotated the night shift in the residence. “Madame President, I’m sorry to disturb you but since I saw your light on—” She didn’t finish the sentence. The light in question was the motion-detector system that tracked the president’s movements in the White House.
“It’s okay,” Maddy said. “I was awake. What’s the problem?”
“The watch officer just received a message from the CIA and thought you should see it. It’s a category three.”
Maddy’s heart stopped racing. A category-three message only required the president’s attention.
“The watch officer said it’s about the exchange of a nuclear weapon and you would want to know about it.”
“Please call my maid,” Maddy said, still drying her hair. She reached out and traced a 47 on the foggy mirror.
Maura and Sarah were finishing their breakfast when Maddy joined them. “I’m famished,” she said, sitting down. Two small gifts and an array of cards were in front of her.
“Happy Birthday, Mom,” Sarah sang. She bounced out of her chair, handed Maddy another card, and kissed her on the cheek. Maddy opened Sarah’s card first. It was a hand-painted sketch of flowers blended with real rose petals. “I made it in art class,” Sarah announced. The inscription inside wished her a happy forty-seventh birthday and more flowers twisted around the numbers.
“It’s beautiful, darling. Thank you.” She opened the other cards. One
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