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At the bottom of their drive, a fire truck sat, with firemen patiently waiting. What had happened?Running up the drive, I was just in time to see medics wheel out a stretcher, Harold Masterton wearing an oxygen mask. Following close behind, Betty emerged from the front door looking flustered and worried in a rumpled dress.“What happened?” I asked.“It’s Harold. He’s gone and had a heart attack, the idiot,” Betty answered, her eyes turned to watch her husband being lifted into the ambulance.“Can I help? Can I do anything?” I asked.Betty looked at me with a vacant expression.“Do you want to go with Harold?” I asked. “I can keep an eye on Amelia.”“Oh, goodness! Amelia! I almost forgot about her.” She started looking around, her hands wringing.“Betty,” I said softly, placing my hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you go to the hospital with Harold? I’ll keep an eye on Amelia.” I gave her a gentle push towards the ambulance and, almost zombie-like, she headed over.I found Amelia sitting in. We'd definitely done that more than enough times towarrant some definite feelings of familiarity or deja vu. However,somewhere deep down inside of me, I didn't think that was the realexplanation.Could it possibly be that Fleur's story actually had some merit to it?After thinking about it for a few seconds, I doubted it did.It was insane. Her damn tale was simply too inane for any rationalperson to believe.And yet...Before I had the time to give Fleur's story any more consideration,the young man that I'd be spending the night with slipped his strongarms about my waist. Like what a hunky hulk. I couldn't believe justhow strong he was. The feel of his arms about my waist was far moreimportant than wasting any more thoughts about Fleur's clearlyimpossible fantasy tale.Besides, my attentive young soon-to-be lover was also quite handsome.As I led him back to my room, his nearness made me grow more and moreexcited. I was hoping he'd be as good in the sack as the last coupleof men I'd had.
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