SNAPSHOTS~"A miscalculaton"

[mlaw]

 

                            

 

The glowing fire was a welcoming sight as Napoleon removed his winter coat and galoshes. It was a chill evening, not cold enough for snow, though there was still plenty of it left on the ground.

"Glad you got that going," he rubbed his hands together to warm them and smiled at Marjorie, his companion for the long weekend. He'd let her into the family cabin in the Catskills, while he parked the car and gathered the groceries to bring inside.

 

They'd brought enough victuals for the next four days; thick steaks, lamb chops with all the trimmings, the makings for Caesar salad, pastries, wine, champagne, oysters, chocolate covered strawberries and other fresh fruit... bacon, eggs and toast for breakfast, cold cuts for sandwiches along with the makings for a nice pot of chicken soup with dumplings.

The pair wouldn't have to leave their love nest for any reason, except for their planned excursion to do a little skiing.

Marge was a great cook and didn't mind taking care of the meals though Napoleon said dinner was his specialty and would handle that.

After the groceries were put away, he opened the champagne with a loud 'pop' and brought out the chocolate covered strawberries to set the mood.

"Yum, these are delicious," Marge smiled, biting into a strawberry and taking big sip of champagne.

"I know something, or rather someone more delicious," he wrapped his arms around the gorgeous brunette and pulled her to him, giving her a long...slow...kiss."

"Mmm, you taste extraordinarily good," he whispered, nibbling on her earlobe.

They made their way to the bearskin rug in front of the fire, and one piece at a time their articles of clothing were removed.

"Oh Napoleon, this is wonderful," Marge gasped as he unhooked her black lace brassière, releasing her beautiful breasts.

They finally made love with the crackling fire as their background, and as they lay entwined together in the afterglow, Napoleon's head suddenly rose with concern.

There was the creak of a floorboard above them...someone was upstairs."

He grabbed his shirt, handing it to Marge. "Put this on and wait here."

"Napoleon, I'm frightened." He held his finger to her lips, giving her a reassuring kiss on the cheek.

He quickly pulled on his pants, retrieving his gun from beneath the sofa pillow where he'd tucked it, and headed towards the stairs.

There it was again, another creak, coming from the master bedroom, he guessed by the location.

Knowing the stairs well, he crept up them, avoiding the steps he knew would give him away. Once he made it to the landing, he walked carefully in his bare feet until he reached the door.

Napoleon took a deep breath, and though he knew it would be painful, he kicked in the door.

"Freeze!" He said to the shadowy figure beside the bed, pointing his gun directly at it.

"Napoleon?"

"Heather? What are you doing here honey?" He turned on the light switch, finding McNabb standing there looking oh so sultry, dressed in one of his suit jackets that barely covered her naked body.

"Did you forget you invited me? I arrived early and I figured I'd come up here to surprise you."

For a split second his head reeled at the thought he might have screwed up somehow. That miniscule pause allowed Heather to reached for his pants, and try to undo the zipper.

"Oh boy…um, Heather. I have, um, company downstairs."

"And I'm trying to let him out," she giggled, misunderstanding him.

"No, I meant, someone is downstairs….Marjorie from Communications, to be precise."

"Oh...OH? Did I make a mistake?

"Yes, I invited you here for next weekend." He groaned, though he looked her up and down, feeling sorely tempted by what he knew was beneath that jacket.

"I know that look Napoleon Solo….no way. I'm not sharing you with another woman in the same night."

"Would I do such a thing?" He smiled.

"Yes."

He scrunched up his face; she was right.

There was a creak from the hallway and he turned quickly as he heard footsteps coming in their way.

"Napoleon, is everything all right?" Marge called.

His eyes flashed to Heather, seeing her acknowledge their predicament as he turned out the light.

"Everything's fine Marge, go downstairs and I'll be there shortly. It's just a raccoon that's gotten inside and I have to chase it out...I won't be long. I promise."

"Just a raccoon?" He heard Heather giggle again.

As soon as Marge went back down the stairs, he responded.

"Not 'just'..." He reached out, taking Heather into his arms and kissed her while his hands wandered across her body.

"Oh Napoleon, how can I resist you," she moaned. Against her better judgement, she succumbed to his charms and they had a 'quickie,' before Napoleon retreated downstairs.

"Everything okay handsome?" Marge asked, still clothed in his shirt, looking quite relaxed as she draped herself provacatively on the sofa.

"Fine, fine...you know I'm a bit tired. Why don't we go to bed, that way we can get an early start for the ski slopes in the morning."

"But I'm hungry Napoleon. Did you forget about dinner."

"My dear, I believe I did...I was just so captivated by you. Tell you what, I'll bring us a tray of oysters and more champagne and we can nosh in bed. How does that sound?"

"Oh very romantic...mmmm oysters are my favorite."

"I bet they are." He took her by the hand, leading her towards the downstairs bedroom, and watched behind her as Heather tiptoed past, fully dressed except for her shoes she dangling in her hand.

She blew him a kiss as Marge stepped out of view.

"Excuse me while I check the door," he said. "Go ahead and get into bed...I'll be there in a minute.

"Don't be long Napoleon dear, I'm in the mood again to feel your big...

"Yes fine Marge," he interrupted her thought and rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him and grabbed Heather before she stepped out onto the porch.

"No hard feelings?" He said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"None at the moment, but if any develop, you can make it up to me next weekend, and please no extra guests?"

"Why? Wouldn't a ménage à trois be….exciting?" He whispered facetiously.

"Napoleon Solo, you're incorrigible."

He shook his head as he walked back to the bedroom, wondering how he sometimes got himself into these predicaments.

Napoleon smiled, yes Heather was right; he was incorrigible...