The Nerd Who Loved Me

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Other than a desk in one comer, the only furniture was a ripped Naugahyde sofa and two mangy armchairs. No one was in the room. A small tape recorder on the desk clicked off, having come to the end of the cassette providing the flute-and-drum background music. With surroundings like this, she was in no danger of being swept away by the ambiance.

  Then again, there was Harry, a huge part of the am­biance, a guy whose solid presence was really growing on her. She could tell she was getting to him, too.

  She had no doubt she could seduce him the minute they were truly alone.

  But she had a sneaking suspicion he didn't want to get permanently mixed up with a dancer. So if she had sex with him, she had to be clear in her mind why she was doing it. Curiosity, partly. Sexual deprivation, mostly. Vibrators were a poor substitute for the real deal.

  She'd also have to forget the thrill of pleasure he'd given her when he'd slipped the ring on her finger. It could have been a special moment if he'd wanted to make it into one. Quite definitely he hadn't wanted to. 'Nuff said on that score.

  Harry leaned toward her. "We don't have to stay. Maybe we should go somewhere else."

  "No, it'll be fine." Lainie wasn't about to have Harry spend money on a hotel room when this one came free. Besides, they'd promised Rona they'd check the place out. Maybe it was a diamond in the rough.

  "Seriously, this is shaping up to be a disaster. I think we could find a better—"

  "Is there something I can do for you?" A middle-aged woman in a long skirt and oversized sweater came into the room. Her name tag read "Thalia Jenson."

  "We're Rona and Fred Ambrewster," Lainie said be­fore Harry could open his mouth. "We called earlier about an appointment to discuss a time-share."

  "Resort and vacation ownership," Thalia corrected gently. "Certainly. If you'll come this way, we'll get you registered for the room and I'll notify Dudley that you've arrived." She went over to the desk in the corner, sat down and picked up the phone.

  As she punched in a number, presumably to contact their salesman Dudley, Harry turned to Lainie. "You know, I really do think—"

  "Come on, Fred." Lainie took him by the arm. "We agreed to take the tour, so let's get on with it."

  Harry lowered his voice and leaned closer to her. "But what if the units look like this?"

  "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she said under her breath. "And I'm sure they're an improvement."

  Harry rolled his eyes. "Anything would be an improve­ment," he muttered, but he walked with her over to the desk.

  Thalia hung up the phone and smiled at them. "Dud­ley's on his way." Then she powered up her ancient desk­top computer. "Your stay will be complimentary for two nights, and I just need a credit card for any extra charges you might make."

  Lainie wondered if there would be any question about names as Harry handed over his card. But as Rona had predicted, Thalia keyed in the number without giv­ing it a second glance.

  After thanking Harry and returning his card, she gave him two metal door keys and a crudely drawn map of the premises. A big red X was on one of the numbered units. Then she laid out name tags, Sharpie pens, and a tour registration form. "If you'll fill these out, I'm sure Dudley will be here any minute."

  "Okay." Harry started printing H-A-R with the Sharpie.

  Lainie noticed and clapped a hand over the name tag, getting a palm full of ink for her troubles. Maybe seeing those keys to the room they'd be sharing had messed with his concentration. "Let me do yours," she said, balling up his attempt and shoving it in her purse. Then she wiped her hand on a tissue. "Nobody can read your handwriting."

  "They can so." Harry looked peeved. "If I print, and I was pr—-"

  "May we have another name tag, please?" Lainie asked sweetly.

  "Sure." Thalia placed another peel-and-stick name tag on the desk. "We have plenty."

  Lainie carefully printed F-R-E-D on the tag, peeled off the backing, and slapped the sticky side onto Harry's silk-covered chest. Mm, that felt good, pressing her hand right over his heart. "There you go, Freddy," she said.

  Harry looked down at his chest and apparently the light dawned, because he glanced at her with understand­ing in his big brown eyes. "Oh."

  "Exactly." Lainie printed R-O-N-A on her tag, peeled off the back and smoothed it over the shirt the real Rona had loaned her. Funny that Rona had hair about the color of the wig Lainie was wearing. Her scalp was starting to itch a little, and she'd be glad to get into their room and take the wig off. And what else will you be taking off, Lainie girl? She shivered, still not sure whether sex with Harry was a great idea or the worst one she'd had in five years.

  Harry had started filling out the form, and thanks to her intervention on the name tag thing he seemed to be with the program. He used his mother's condo address and telephone number. Then she watched him hesitate over her age and was gratified when he listed her as twenty-five instead of her true age of twenty-seven.

  Then he put down his age, and Lainie found out he was thirty-three. No wonder his mother was impatient about grandkids. Harry needed to settle down. What he didn't need was the kind of mess she'd made of her life, which was another reason to avoid sex, or at least make it clear the fun would be temporary.

  "Fred and Rona, you're a sight for sore eyes!"

  Lainie jumped, nearly colliding with Harry as they both turned to face their salesman and his Texas twang. Small and wiry, Dudley looked as if he'd been dried in the sun like a piece of beef jerky. He wore a long-sleeved cowboy shirt, boot-cut jeans, and a battered cowboy hat, all of which looked authentic. Except for the lack of a horse and six-guns, he could have stepped right out of the eighteen-hundreds.

  "Dudley Shearson," he said, sticking out a weathered hand first to Lainie and then to Harry. "We're gonna have more fun than a hog in mud today. I hope you brought your checkbook, 'cause you're gonna need it!" Dudley was a hand-pumper.

  "Good to meet you, Dudley." Harry extracted his hand from Dudley's enthusiastic grip. "And we probably should get started with—"

  "Oh, we'll get started, all right. We'll get started with a bang. You're gonna love what I'm about to show you, Rona and Fred. Follow me, folks." Dudley picked up the registration form from the counter and took off at a good clip toward the rear doors of the building. "Hen­derson, huh? I have me a cousin who lives in Hender­son. Ray Atkins. He's a good ‘ol boy, deals in those portable toilets they use for construction and special events, ya know? Like rock concerts and such. Handles the overflow. Get it? Overflow!" Dudley cackled happily at his own joke.

  Lainie glanced at Harry and raised her eyebrows. Harry shrugged as if to say it didn't matter how weird their salesman was. And it didn't. They weren't in the market for a time-share.

  "Ray, he never goes out on the Strip, though." Dudley opened the door and gestured for Lainie and Harry to go out ahead of him. "Says he wouldn't be caught dead there. Just a tourist trap, a place to fleece you out of all your hard-earned cash."

  Lainie kept her mouth shut. It didn't matter if Dudley insulted his prospects or not, since the prospects were bogus.

  Once they were on a walkway outside, Dudley glanced at their registration form and did a double-take. "Oh, say, you two work for the Nirvana! Now there's a classy place. Yessir, I've been to the Nirvana, and I give it the Dudley Shearson seal of approval. I don't give many outfits that honor, let me tell you. Now if you'll step over this way, we'll take a golf cart to the units."

  Although the golf cart looked as if it had seen better days, Lainie was relieved they wouldn't have to walk. Sleeping in the car had helped some, but she was still feeling tired, and she could imagine how exhausted Harry was. Even so, he helped her into the back of the cart before climbing in beside her. What a guy.

  Dudley slid behind the wheel, talking the whole time. "Ah, yes, the Nirvana. Great place. I wouldn't give you a plugged nickel for any of the other casinos up there, but the Nirvana's my kind of establishment. My accountant told me to stay
away from all forms of gambling, but you know how accountants are. Never want anybody to have any fun."

  "I wouldn't go that far," Harry said.

  Dudley glanced at their registration again. "Oh, I see you are an accountant, Fred. Well, there you go. You're out of the mold, because here you are looking at resort ownership. You obviously know how to have fun." Then he cranked the key on the golf cart. When it wouldn't start right away, he jiggled the key and gave the dash several hard thumps. Finally the motor caught.

  "Is this thing gas-powered?" Harry asked.

  "Yup. When it decides to go, anyways." Smoke belched from the rear of the cart.

  "I thought everyone had gone to electric."

  "Not everybody!" Dudley sang out as he put the pedal to the metal and they took off so quickly that Lainie's and Harry's heads snapped back.

  Backfiring all the way, they careened down the golf path as fast as the little cart would go. Harry anchored one arm around the canopy brace and the other around Lainie, to hold her steady. She appreciated the gesture on many levels. Being held by Harry was turning out to be one of life's pleasures, but in this case it also was one of life's necessities. They had to hang on to each other to keep from being tossed out of the cart.

  Seemingly oblivious to the wild ride he was giving them, Dudley kept up his monologue. "I had some folks several days ago from the state of Washington, and he works for a paper company, so I asked him if his company made toilet paper, and he said sure, so I told him I'd hook him up with my cousin Ray."

  Harry leaned down and put his mouth close to Lainie's ear. "Can you believe this guy sells anything?"

  "Nope." But Lainie could believe that having Harry murmur in her ear was worth enduring whatever Dudley dished out. It didn't matter what Harry said. Just his warm breath and his nimbly voice got her all hot and bothered.

  "Hey, Fred," Dudley called over his shoulder. "Maybe you'd like this fella's name, the one with the warehouse full of TP? I'm sure he could cut you a deal for the Nir­vana. Since you're an accountant, I'm sure you're al­ways looking for ways to trim that old budget, right? Whoopsie." He hit the brakes and laid a strip of rubber on the golf path. "I was so busy talking I almost drove right past the first model."

  Lainie had the giggles. She pressed her lips together to control herself, although she probably didn't have to worry about offending Dudley. He continued his mono­logue about budgets and toilet paper as he climbed out of the cart and beckoned them toward a wrought-iron patio gate. Dead weeds choked the area on either side of the gate.

  Harry stepped down and held out a hand to help Lainie as Dudley proceeded through the gate, still talking.

  "Now watch your step and keep an eye out for rattlers," Dudley said. "Don't want either of you getting bit."

  "Rattlers?" Lainie scrambled back into the cart. "What do you mean, rattlers?"

  "Yeah, exactly what do you mean?" Harry glanced nervously around him. "Some of us aren't wearing boots, you know."

  "Aw, they won't bother you, so long as you make a lot of noise to warn 'em off. They just hate being startled."

  "If noise is all we need, then we should be golden." Harry looked over at Lainie and rolled his eyes.

  "That's what I'm telling ya. Just follow ol' Dudley's instructions, and you'll be fine. Come on in, folks, and prepare to be charmed by Crimson Canyons." Dudley opened the sliding glass door into the time-share unit.

  Once again, Harry held out his hand to Lainie. "We'll stomp our feet the whole way."

  She put her hand in his. What a terrific sensation, hold­ing hands with Harry. "Like you said, if it's noise we need, we're all set." She lowered her voice. "I've never heard such a motormouth."

  "I'm guessing he's fueled up on about ten cups of cof­fee." He guided her down. "I'm ready to buy something just to shut him up."

  "Well, control that urge, Fred."

  His eyes got all warm and melty. "Easier said than done."

  She didn't remember hearing that husky tone in his voice before, and it hit her right where she lived. She wondered how long Dudley would torture them with his sales pitch, such as it was. Once they ditched Dudley, they could lay claim to their room, and she could hardly wait to see what happened after that.

  "Right in here, Fred and Rona. This is our one-bedroom model, perfect for a couple with no kids, or if you have kids, a place to get away from the little cowpokes. Never could stand rug rats, myself, but some people swear by them."

  This time Lainie didn't try to hold back her laughter. "I have a rug rat at home, Dudley, and I'm nuts about him."

  Dudley might have blushed. In a guy as brown and weathered as Dudley it was hard to tell. He pulled their registration form from his coat pocket and looked at it. "Why, so you do. And knowing you folks, I'm sure he's a crackerjack."

  "Oh, he's that, all right," Harry said.

  "Spoken like a proud papa." Dudley waved them in­side. "Now come and take a look at this place. You're gonna love it."

  As Lainie walked through the gate ahead of Harry, all the while making sure to create as much noise as possible scuffing the soles of her shoes against the paving stones, she thought about Harry as a father. If only she'd taken a shine to someone like Harry five years ago, then Dexter would have a great role model instead of the sorry excuse for a man that Joey Benjamin had turned into.

  Of course, she hadn't thought there was any chance Joey would get her pregnant. His story about the mumps making him sterile had been real. Joey wasn't smart enough to make up something like that.

  Then she realized she'd never asked Harry what Leo had called about. But now was not the time, with Dudley able to listen in. She stepped through the patio door into a living room that seemed in slightly better shape than the lobby. A colorful blanket had been thrown over the sofa, and a braided rug was positioned on the carpet in front of the fireplace. It wasn't directly in front of the fireplace, but that was probably the maid not being precise.

  Dudley was talking again, this time about the smallness of the kitchen and the largeness of the bedroom, which he said was the right proportion for a getaway. Then he winked at Harry, man-to-man. On Dudley's lined face, a wink looked very strange.

  Harry glanced around the living room. "How old are these units, Dudley?"

  "Now there's a very good question, Fred. I promise to get an answer for you when we get back to the club­house. Now, Rona, take a gander at this bedroom and tell me it's not perfect for a couple of lovebirds."

  Lainie could tell from Harry's expression that he was thinking of abandoning the idea of staying here. No doubt he had higher standards than she did. She would be fine here, though, unless the bedroom was horrible. Following Dudley's suggestion, she walked over to the doorway and peeked inside.

  Okay, so it wasn't the same as a room at the Bellagio, but the bed was a king, and right now it looked extremely inviting. She'd never owned anything bigger than a dou­ble bed. Sure, the headboard and dresser were a little cheesy, but that bed was all she needed. And try as she might to keep the image from taking over, she pictured Harry in it with her.

  She turned and discovered Harry standing in the doorway. He too was staring at the bed. He swallowed. Then he looked at her. Lust shone in his eyes.

  Her heart beat so loud it echoed in her ears. She for­got to breathe as she fought the urge to grab Harry and pull him down on that mattress with her. He wanted that, too. She could see it on his face.

  He took a step into the room ... and stopped. Clos­ing his eyes, he shook his head. When he opened his eyes again, the lust was gone.

  He's decided not to have sex with me. She was sure of it, and that made up her mind once and for all. Harry wasn't the kind of guy who had temporary sex with a woman. Come to think of it, she wasn't that kind of woman, either.

  In the living room, Dudley continued his monologue, babbling about the number of cable channels available in the area. Then he appeared in the doorway. "Well, folks, can you two see yourself having a high old
time in this kind of setup?" He leaned against the doorframe, his hat tipped back from his forehead, a grin on his face.

  "Uh, we need to continue with the tour," Harry said, still looking at Lainie, regret plainly reflected in his gaze.

  "Why even bother with the two-bedroom model?" Dudley said. "The trouble with a two-bedroom, if you don't mind my saying so, is that you have yourself two bedrooms, and people tend to fill up that space, which means your privacy is shot to hell. Now some people might not want privacy, but I can tell you two are very interested in your privacy. I can see that you—"

  "We'd better look at the two-bedroom," Lainie said, forcing herself to break eye contact with Harry. Then she glanced back at him. "Right, Fred?"

  He blinked as if coming out of a trance. "Right. A two-bedroom."

  "Okay, but I can't see you in a two-bedroom. You're a one-bedroom couple if ever I saw one. However, if you insist on seeing a two-bedroom, then I'm obliged to show you a two-bedroom, isn't that right? Back to the golf cart we go." He turned and walked outside.

  Lainie swallowed her disappointment that she wouldn't be having sex with Harry, but that was the breaks. They had to make sure they were on the same page, so they could proceed. "Okay, here's the plan. We'll look at the two-bedroom. Then we can pretend we can't make up our mind between the two, which gives us an out."

  "I think we should look at the two-bedroom and leave. There's no reason to stay here. We can find a better place."

  She didn't want a better place. If she wasn't going to have sex with Harry, it didn't matter where they were. "It would be stupid to spend the money when we don't have to. Besides, Leo expects us to be here. We've success­fully passed ourselves off as Rona and Fred. And no­body's around. That makes it the perfect hideaway. If we go somewhere nicer, we're bound to be more visible."

  Harry sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess you're right. Let's go look at the two-bedroom."

  "And remember, you want the one-bedroom and I want the two-bedroom, and we can't agree."