The Story of Lansing Lotte

by L. B. Dunbar

  “Thank you. Thank you,” she kept muttering between sobs and kisses to her daughter’s head. Eventually, she let out a brief laugh. When I looked at her in question, she smiled the most beautiful smile of white teeth against a dirty face.

  “She said she can’t breathe because I’m hugging her too hard.” For some reason that seemed funny to both of us, and we laughed together. She released the child to the ground, but continued to have physical contact with her.

  “I don’t know how I’d ever repay you. You’re our hero.”

  I normally would have flirted, making a comment to assure her I knew how she could, but I didn’t speak. She had stepped forward and kissed me on the side of my mouth. The side where I had a dimple.

  Her eyes closed half-mast as she pulled back, and she lowered her eyes to the ground.

  “Thank you,” she whispered to the cold street below her bare feet. Her voice would have been seductive if it were a different time.

  “You must be freezing,” I choked. She only shook her head in denial, but I picked up both mother and child in one grasp, to a shocked squeal and a little giggle. Carrying them awkwardly, I placed them in the back of the ambulance for additional care.

  When I turned around, a flash of light blinded me. Then another. And another. The media had broken through the protective barrier and were snapping away. My first thought was to shield my eyes from the glares, but my proximity to Fleur and her mother registered. I knew immediately, the image of the child and the mother in her skimpy lingerie nightie, with my jacket over her was about to make headlines. I stepped in front of the pair to protect them, as best I could, and felt the head of someone in my back. A hand grasped the back of my sweat soaked t-shirt.

  “Stay hidden,” I muttered as more bulbs flashed.

  “Get them in the ambulance,” I yelled over my shoulder to the EMT, as a means of their protection, as well as, warmth and medical attention. I couldn’t see what was happening behind me. There was a scramble of motion and a jiggle of the ambulance before a hand slid down my back with a final “thank you” whispered in the morning air. The ambulance doors closed and the engine roared to life.

  The adrenaline rush hit me hard and my body began to shake. I scanned the crowd, not knowing who or what I was looking for when I heard one distinct voice calling my name above the shouts of photographers.

  “Lansing,” came the gruff tone of Galehaut. Looking in his direction, I saw the tear stained face of Layne Ascolat standing next to the giant frame of Will. I pushed through the crowd toward them, as Layne dove into the melee of paparazzi. I felt like I was swimming upstream as the cameras continued to flash. People yelled my name with questions about the fire, the woman and the child. In an instant, the attention from one woman was shifted to another. Any rumors of the woman and child were dispelled when Layne and I collided, and she kissed me for all the world to record with a camera.

  It could have been a combination of several things. Stress at saving Fleur and finding her mother. Being alive and finding Layne. Whatever the causes, the feel of Layne’s lips on mine were my undoing. I relished the comfort they brought, despite the public display. Relief hit me hard as our lips collided and I drank her in. Her mouth devoured mine in return, as we discovered every curve of lips and the taste of tongues in that moment. Her body wrapped around mine when her arms tightened around my neck and her legs climbed mine. My hands slid to her waist, and I jostled her body to force her legs to wrap around my hips. We stood before all of New York in an intense embrace and explorative kiss, before another flash finally caught my eye and I broke the assault.

  “Thank God, you’re okay,” she sighed, as she leaned her forehead against mine. I still held her body in the air, but my arms were beginning to shake in the full release of adrenaline. My legs started to give out at keeping us both upright.

  “Where were you?” I moaned, as my body rejected my strength and I shook harder. Layne sensed something was wrong and she slid down my body, but didn’t remove her arms from around my neck, forcing my head to bend toward her.

  “We need to get you out of here,” she muttered to me, holding my eyes with her innocent brown ones. Releasing my neck, her hands slid down my shivering arms to grab both my hands, gently pulling me toward the lobby of the building.

  “I’m sorry, Miss, the building will be off limits for a while. We’ll give you notice when you can re-enter,” a police officer halted us.

  “We’ll go to my parents,” Galehaut informed the officer and gave him a card with Will’s information. Galehaut breathed a deep breath before he reached for me and embraced me hard. He patted my back several times before pulling back and rubbing a hand down his face.

  “Okay. To my parents,” he stated, as he turned and walked away from our beautiful Dolores Guard.

  Galehaut’s home was an elaborate mansion in the old money district of Staten Island. On the shores of the Hudson River, Galehaut had a wing all to his own, despite the penthouse at Dolores Guard. His family were giants in more than just the software industry; they were old world mega-millionaires. Galehaut lead us to a private room with a large attached bath and offered to leave Layne and me alone. I would have loved nothing more than to lay down on the oversized bed, but I needed to shower first.

  Layne stood hesitantly at the entrance of the room.

  “I just need a quick shower, okay?”

  She only nodded in response. I exited the main bedroom to the enormous bath. A large Jacuzzi tub, a two person shower, his and her sinks. It was bigger than the kitchen in my home. My apartment.

  I wondered when I would be able to return to my home as I peeled off my sweat soaked, smoke filled clothing. The smell immediately brought images of Fleur and 3A. I still didn’t know her name, and I scolded myself for not asking her. I had plenty of opportunity to find out who she was before, but it was the mystery of not knowing her name that brought a thrill. She was so beautiful, despite dirt and smudges. The skimpy nightie only enhanced what I always thought was underneath her modest clothing.

  I turned on the large shower head and water streamed forth like a rainfall. I let the warmth envelop me, sighing with relief as the hot water massaged my aching muscles. I was thinking again of 3A in her tiny negligée, and tried to rule out the possibility that she had someone in her home or had left Fleur alone to visit another neighbor. She said she was going for an egg and I had to believe her, but appearances were deceiving. I was in a growing state of arousal over 3A’s sexy look on her knees in the trapped elevator, when a hand slipped over my hip.

  “Layne?” my voice cracked.

  Soft lips kissed my back and upper shoulders before trailing down one arm. She released her grip on my side to reach around me and grab the soap.

  “Layne? What are you doing?”

  She didn’t respond as she lathered her hands and began to wash up my body. Her delicate hands smoothed over my abs and up my chest. Tiny nails scratched over my chest and rubbed back down to my waist. She continued her work over my arms giving extra attention to my biceps. Dragging her hands down each arm, she washed my hands, caressing up and down each finger.

  I remained speechless. She had shocked me to the point of no words. I was pampered further as she turned my body to face the wall and rubbed circles of soap from my tight shoulders down to my lower back. She hesitated at my waist before slipping to my ass. My head had been hung in relaxation, but the touch of my ass made me look up. I was trying to glance at her over my shoulder, when her fingers slipped around my hips, her body plastered to my back and she gripped my excited shaft hard. Her soapy hands smoothed up and down me in my heightened arousal and I moaned.

  My hands came up to balance me against the wall, as Layne stroked me in a steady rhythm. My brain shut down and my body took over. I let her control me as my hips moved gently with the steady beat she played up my excitement. I felt the sweet tension. If she kept up the pace, I was going to explode.

  “Layne…I…” I sucked in a bre
ath as she gripped me harder, quickening her rhythm. It had been a long time since I’d had a hand-job, but my body was giving into the sensation. I released on an exaggerated tug of my dick as her other hand squeezed my balls.

  “Layne…” I breathed out, as I spilled over her fingers and she continued to massage me until I couldn’t take it any longer.

  I placed my hand over hers, holding her still for a moment before I spun quickly and maneuvered her back against the shower tile. The water was cooling, but I needed to return the favor. Layne’s eyes were wide; her innocent brown had a mixture of fear and excitement.

  “I won’t hurt you,” I whispered, as my mouth found her neck and she tilted her head for me to take bigger sucks of her skin.

  She groaned in response, swallowing hard as my hand slid down between the crevice of her lush breasts, to the flat of her stomach, and over her mound before finding the sweet spot at the apex of her legs. I tickled my fingers over her folds and her hips bucked forward. I pulled back to look into her eyes again and she was biting her lower lip.

  “You want me to touch you, don’t you, Layne?”

  She didn’t respond again, but she didn’t have to. I knew by the whimpering sound in the back of her throat, she needed me to touch her. I slid a finger across her dampness again and her head tipped back against the tile. I slipped a finger into her, and her hands went flat against the wall. She had nothing to hold onto as I began my own torturous rhythm inside her core. She was wet; slick in a way that told me she would let me take everything from her, if I wanted it. I didn’t want it, however. I had that awful thought in my head. I didn’t want to take Layne, and I shouldn’t have let her touch me. I shouldn’t have been touching her.

  I worked a beat like she played me. Almost instantly, her head lulled forward to my chest and she groaned deeply as her release washed my fingers anew. I kissed her shoulder, without really tasting her, as she continued in silent pleasure for several minutes before I felt the clenching on my fingers calm. Layne’s head fell back slowly. Her face showed satisfaction and her eyes were dilated with released desire.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Her eyes found mine.

  “For what?” I sighed.

  “For…” She seemed hesitant.

  “For giving me this,” she replied breathlessly. The smile on Layne’s face could have lit all of New York City. I felt sick at the thought that I wasn’t really giving Layne anything.

  The following day I returned to Dolores Guard to assess the damage with Galehaut. As we stood in the lobby waiting for an inspector, my phone rang. I recognized that ringtone and the last time I heard it I was met with devastating news.

  “Guinie?” I sighed into the phone.

  “Lansing? Tell me you’re okay? Please.” Her voice was full of frantic fear and I blinked up at Galehaut in surprise. She actually sounded truly concerned.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Where have you been?” she breathed, her worry still present in her tone.

  “I went to Galehaut’s.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “We’re both fine. We’re at Dolores Guard now, waiting for an inspector.”

  “And you’re okay? He’s okay?”

  “We’re both fine. Guinie, what is this all about?” I asked suspiciously. It just wasn’t like her to call me or be so overly worried.

  “I just…it looked so scary on television, and you didn’t return my calls.” I pulled the phone back to look at the message app to find ten voice mails.

  I had missed part of what she said as she continued to speak, while I had glanced at my phone. I returned it to my ear to hear her say, “I just can’t lose you, too.”

  Her voice was tender, her tone softer as she breathed out on those words in a whisper. My heart skipped a beat and I looked up again to find Galehaut staring at me. I didn’t know how to respond to the sudden concern from Guinie.

  “Lover girl?” Galehaut mouthed to me.

  I shook my head to ignore him, hoping he would be thrown off, but he started making a gesture with his hips and his hands, closing his eyes in mock ecstasy, and making a face like he was moaning. I couldn’t help it, I laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” she said, her voice squeaking through the phone.

  “Nothing. I gotta go. The investigator is here.”

  I heard her sigh. I instantly felt bad that I hadn’t responded in a more serious manner to her truthful admission. My head was slow to catch up that Guinie might have just admitted something from her heart.

  We followed the investigator up the three flights of stairs. The elevator was broken and condemned as not meeting city code. We entered the third floor and turned right to inspect how far the damage had spread on that floor. It appeared the fire had gone up and down rather than horizontal and not all the apartments were ruined. As we exited 3C where the fire damage was beginning to be evident, we saw 3A exiting her apartment.

  “Ma’am, you can’t be up here,” the investigator spoke. She looked up at us and turned on her heels to face the open doorway of what was once her home. She didn’t respond but kept her eyes fixed on something within the doorframe.

  “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask…”

  “I’ve got it,” I said, reaching out to pat the man on the back.

  “Lansing?” came the questioning tone of Galehaut behind me.

  “I’ve got this,” I said again, addressing him. He must of read something in my face because he nodded once and asked the investigator to walk into 3B next.

  I approached her slowly. She was fragile looking, defeated almost. She had her arms wrapped around her as if she was trying to hold herself up. Her honey colored hair was pulled up in a ponytail. She wore a white sweater with a scarf around her neck, and skinny jeans tucked into high boots. She had deep brown eyes which I knew from all my flirting with her. She didn’t look up at me, though, as I stopped next to her to look at what she saw within the apartment.

  The room was black. Solid black. The remains of a couch. The bare walls with charred studs. The ruined remains of a carpet. We stood next to one another for a brief moment before she spoke.

  “I didn’t mean to do it,” she said so softly I almost didn’t hear her.

  I glanced at her, but her eyes hadn’t moved.

  “I only meant to be gone for a minute, two at the most. Clare was expecting me.”

  I didn’t respond when she paused. She needed time and the story would come out.

  “I had the oven on to make a cake. I needed one more egg. I don’t know what happened. I had a few candles going to freshen the room.”

  “I don’t think it was your fault,” I tried to sound compassionate.

  “I’d told Fleur a hundred times, don’t touch. Don’t touch the candles. Don’t touch the stove. I don’t know what happened.”

  “I don’t think it was Fleur’s fault, either,” I said.

  “She didn’t mean to do it,” her voice was almost a whisper.

  I paused for a moment. The guilt surrounded her so thickly, I could feel it myself.

  “What do you think she did?” I asked quietly.

  “I think she put her toy pan in the oven. Or she ended up knocking over a candle. She ran to her room because that’s what she learned in preschool.” She closed her eyes and a tear slipped out. “She’s only four,” she added.

  “Why was she alone?” I didn’t mean it to sound accusatory, but it must have because she looked at me for the first time. Her tears of shame had turned to a face of determination.

  “I needed an egg to make her cake. It was her birthday. I didn’t want Clare to have to come down, and I knew I’d only be a minute. Four flights up. When I left Clare’s apartment, the elevator was just closing. I thought it would be faster than running back down the stairs.” Her tone was biting as she defended her actions.

  I held up my hands in a surrender motion.

  “I’m not accusing you of anything.”

  �
�You’d be the first,” she sighed, returning her gaze to the living room.

  “It’s always my fault,” she added in a low voice.

  “What’s always your…?”

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry you need to go now. We need to inspect this apartment next.”

  She gazed up at the investigator and nodded in understanding. Her arms slid to her sides and she turned toward the staircase. Galehaut followed the investigator, but I followed 3A.

  “Wait,” I said as she reached the stairs. “Where are you staying?”

  “Why?”

  “I…” I wasn’t sure why I asked. “I’m just curious.”

  Her shoulders shrunk.

  “I stayed at Clare’s sister’s last night with Clare and Fleur, but I can’t stay there another night.”

  “Where are you going tonight?”

  “I…” She stopped and narrowed her eyes at me. “I don’t know.”

  “You could stay with me.”

  I didn’t know where the suggestion came from and my voice sounded my own surprise. After a moment, I realized I was serious in my offer.

  “You and Fleur, and Clare even, can stay with me,” I said more confidently.

  “Clare’s going to stay at her sister’s. I…I can’t stay with you.”

  “Why not?” I asked surprised, as if it was normal for a virtual stranger to ask someone else to live with him.

  “I…” She paused for a moment to think. “I have Fleur. And you’re…” She stopped.

  “I’m what?”

  “You’re Lansing Lotte.”