Zol with a Capital Z
Waking up in a hotel room and watching a magnificent naked young woman leaving the same bed can be a very disturbing experience (mixed with a secret kind of delight).
Number one. You're in a stupor from whatever it was that caused you to pass out in the first place. (Or was that the cognac?). Two, you don't have your glasses on anyway, so things are slightly blurry without all the extraordinary experiences. Three My GOD she's perfect! Scratch that. Call Pam. Wait. Don't call Pam. What would you say? Raising the blankets to look downstairs. Yep, sure enough. I'm naked. With an erection. Oh boy. I'm in trouble.
"Excuse me. Miss?" Derby hadn't been in a situation quite like this one before. He continued, "Pardon me miss? Jeninqua is it? Doris? Whichever, excuse me."
She had walked to the bathroom. The rear view was exceptional. She must have been in her twenties, probably late twenties. Long dark hair. Caucasian though some exotic blood in her. He searched his memory banks. Nothing. Totally blank. Never spoke to her that he knows of. Can't find a whiff of her. The only smell is the fragrance of the fresh flowers in the room. Is she Asian? Mideastern? American Indian? She doesn't seem Italian...but maybe Italian...she had said Florentine. Spinach?
"Miss. Sorry. This doesn't look good. I saw you getting out of the bed. We both seem to be naked. But I remember everything. I never touched you."
Still no reply.
He persisted. "I was a total gentleman. Never even noticed you. My eyes were sealed. I even closed them this morning when I noticed you were leaving the bed. Haven't a clue what you look like. Nope. Never saw your wonderous rump. I mean, er, excuse me. I'm guessing at your age your rump may be wonderous. I just remember your age from the conversation we had on the plane. Yes. The plane and getting off. I had consumed way too much cognac. Good stuff. XO, what was the brand again? A french brand that I'd never had the pleasure of meeting before Pan San flight 1622. Miss...Miss...please Miss, I need to call my wife.
Yes, my wife. Such a wonderful lady. Pam. Pam Ripley in the good ole US of A. Pammy Bammy. Yep. Sure do love my wife. Miss...Miss?"
She walked back in. Oh my Lord she's still naked. The front view is even better.
"Please Miss. Cover yourself."
He pulled the blankets over his head. His little man seemed to be pulsating. "Stop that," he tried to send the energy down to his one eyed appendage. His brain was racing. "Who the Hell is this and what is going on?" From under the sheets he offered,
"Look. Jeninqua. Right? It is Jeninqua. Not Doris. I sort of remember something about Doris or Jeninqua...I know we've become good friends. I remember everything. You're a very nice person. Thanks for sharing. Very interesting story and all. But like I said, I'm married. That is why I was very careful not to ever touch those picture perfect boobies of yours, er, I mean, your breasts. No not your breasts. I've never layed eyes on them, let alone my little short fingers. See, my fingers are very short..."
holds his hands outside of the sheets...
"Yep. Short fingers. Little hands. You know what they say. That is why you wouldn't ever have anything to do with me. And besides, I don't have any interest. Nope. Married. True Blue. That's me. Derby the True Blue American patriot. Blue as goo. Yep Pammy. My true love. Man I love her so."
Silence. Was she still out there? "Don't take down the sheets," he told himself. She's still there. He could feel her staring. My God she's burning a whole in the linen. "What is she? F*cking A, She's a hotty, that's for sure...
Oh God he knew he shouldn't have pulled down the sheets. She was standing there, in extreme simplicity. Thin and voluptuous like a James Bond lover. Mysterious. Confident. Smiling.
"Why are you smiling?," he trembled.
"I've been sent by Zol."
Now he was bolstered. "Zol. Haha. Very funny. OK, so Scoville set this up? You've been retained by Planetary Publishing? So you're a prostitute. OK. Makes sense. Well, I didn't do a thing. Never touched you. Yes you are a splendid specimen. I'm a man. But I'm also totally in control. Never moved in your direction. I'm in total control. I've been awake this whole time. Even when I was sleeping, or you thought I was sleeping, I've been fully awake. When we were AWAKE and we were...talking. Yes, we talked, but that is it. We talked and talked. Wow, you're quite the talker. So Scoville sent you and you discovered that I didn't except his offering...
That must have upset you. Then you went to sleep. Yes, you slept soundly. Right next to me. But I've been here fully awake and not the least interested in that snatch of yours. Excuse me. I mean that latch. The latch on your hand bag..."
He searched the room. No sign of her clothes, no bags. Just an emaculate luxury suite adorned with all the trimmings. Oh no. Is that an empty bottle of champagne turned upside down in an iced bucket. Oh God I'm in trouble. I'm dead. I'm soooo dead.
She was still smiling and climbed back in bed. She tried to move toward him but he jumped up. Boner at full attention. He scrambled for something to put on. "Where the hell are my clothes," he thought quickly to himself as he raced to behind the curtains. My God what a view. "This is the way to see Hong Kong!," he thought to himself.
From under the linen and with quite a charming and shy facade, she spoke gently.
"Derby. Stop being silly. You couldn't possibly know what you're dealing with. By the way. You're an amazing lover. What is that technique. You never ejaculated? Are you a Taoist? Oh baby, come back to bed."
He looked out on the balcony. Too high to jump. Get to the house phone. But my erection? He just simply was at a loss.
"No. By the way. Scoville has no clue either what he's dealing with. He was contacted by the Polish Police and has been retained by the firm of Shenkenmeyer, Bizzle and Blassford. Nope honey. This is all Zol."
Derby was trying to think what kind of gag this was. Who is behind it. Of course anyone could be saying these things who had read the story. No mystery there. Even though he was certain only a handful of people had read Children of Zol, anyone COULD have read it. Its a blog for Christ's sake! But what is really going on. Oh please, please, please tell me I haven't touched that woman...
He came out of the curtains. Put a pillow over Mr. Stinky. He composed himself--
"OK, I'll play along. You're a high priced prostitute and you've been hired by the Great Sneeze. Zol himself. Beatle Speak right? He communicated in Beatle Speak. So what did he say, for you to explain that you wanted to hold my hand?"
He tried a bluff. But he couldn't remember a thing since taking one last long pull on the Cognac about four hours into the flight. The rest, except for briefly waking up at the gate at Hong Kong International, is a total blank.
"Well. No, not exactly. The Beatle speak was your approach. But you couldn't have known. A very ingenious technique you used though. We liked it. But yeah. Zol sent me."
"Zol?" was all he could squeeze out.
"Yes Zol." She waited.
"Zol with a Capital Z?" he asked?
"Yep. Zol with a Capital Z and that rhymes with C," she toyed with him.
"Rhymes with C?" He was about to give up. Derby felt like a teenie tiny little mouse and some big cat game was going on.
"Yes dear. Rhymes with C and that stands for Cool. You've got a cool thread in your Facebook community."
"Facebook? I stopped using Facebook."
"Sure you have honey. And it has made a bubble. Bubble right here in River City."
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