Michele Bravo Playing With Fire Chapter 19

Michele Bravo had risen early that morning, and gone downstairs dressed in her fatsuit, as usual, covered in a scarlet kimono, to find Adams and Jan having breakfast in the kitchen. Michele had greeted them, agreed that their presence would not be required until later that evening when they gave the cocktail party for “Alain Pretoirus” and bid them farewell. She’d put their dishes in the dishwasher, and then started her own breakfast.

Keller appeared a few minutes later, wearing charcoal slacks and a black turtleneck sweater. He must find the air-conditioning in the house a bit chilly.

Michele always loved a man in a turtleneck sweater. “Have a seat,” she said. “Eggs and bacon?”

“Yes, please,” he said.

“Normally I don’t cook,” Michele told him, while she kept an eagle eye on the golden yellow mixture in the frying pan. She’d dropped in a bit of onion, a bit of cheese, and a lot of butter, just the way she liked it.

Soon she was dividing the eggs onto two plates, and poured two cups of coffee for them as they sat at the kitchen table.

“Our employers have gone out,” she told Keller, “shopping for the party tonight.”

He nodded.

Michele gazed at him closely. Time to find out what he’d learned last night, talking with Adams and Jan. Just how professional was he?

“So we have the house to ourselves for a couple of hours.” She said. “Now, you took down information on Alain Pretorius last night. Share.”

Keller reached into his rear pocket and drew out a small spiral notebook.

Michele listened to him intently, and nodded from time to time, impressed. If she hadn’t known he was a cop…well…a member of law enforcement, anyway…she’d believe he was the hired assassin he was supposed to be. He had the calculating mind for it.

When he came to a halt Michele said, “Very good, Keller. That gives us material to work with. I’ll vamp him tonight, and get the most personal details of his life. With a complete picture, we’ll be able to make our plans for his demise tomorrow morning.”

She took their plates to the sink and rinsed off the remnants before stowing them in the dishwasher.

“So what do we do now?” asked Keller. “Just hang out here until tonight?”

He sure was impatient to know what they were doing, Michele thought. Well, she couldn’t blame him. Whatever game *he thought he was playing, he probably didn’t have unlimited time to do it. Probably had to get back to the office in another week or so, back to crunching numbers in his little cubicle.

Should she tweak him some more, Michele wondered. Show off her marksmanship skills again?

“This is an excellent location for us, Keller,” she said. “We can do some trap shooting, or pistol shooting, in privacy. There’s also a dojo down in the basement, if you feel like getting in a workout.”

“With you?” asked Keller.

Did his eyes light up when he said that, Michele wondered. Was he anxious to get his arms around her. She laughed to herself.

“My skills are with blade and bullets, I’m afraid. But perhaps when our employers return, Adams will consent to work out with you.”

“He’s rather a small man,” objected Keller. “Besides, I don’t really like to bout with amateurs. I always get beat when I work out with guys, because I always have to hold back. When you’re killing someone, you spear the eyes, and break their neck. Takes three seconds.”

Michele was impressed. If he was trying to put on an act, it was a good one. “That’s very true, Keller. Very true.” It was true. The spectacular fights that took place in TV shows and in movies were really bogus. A real fight, if at least one of the people involved knew what they were doing, was over in seconds.

“A swim would be nice though,” said Keller. “We could grab surfboards and try the waves just outside this house.”

Michele shook her head. “I’m not a swimmer. So no ocean swimming for you. But there’s an Olympic size pool in the backyard.”

Keller laughed. “Seems kind of redundant, to live right next to the ocean and yet have a swimming pool.”

Privately, Michele agreed with him. However, Keller acquiesced and disappeared upstairs to change into his swim trunks. Michele was waiting for him, still kimono clad, on the pool deck. She cast an appreciative eye over his physique…nice body.

He dove into the pool and swam with strong strokes from one end of the Olympic sized pool to the other.

Michele suppressed a sigh. What she wouldn’t give to be in that cold wetness right alongside him. Unfortunately, wearing a fat suit and trying to swim was counter-intuitive.

After a few more laps, Keller climbed out of the pool. He stood on the edge to dry himself, and water dripped around him. As he took a step, his foot slipped. He looked down in surprise.

“Jeez,” he said. “This stone is like glass, when you’re feet are wet. You wouldn’t think they’d put material like this around a pool.”

“People around here probably wear thongs,” said Michele. She turned her head to look around, vaguely, wondering if a pair of thongs might be hiding somewhere, as he’d continued talking. Then she heard the sound of a thunk, turned back and watched as a prone Keller rolled off the deck into the water.

Faster than the speed of thought, Michele was out of her lounge chair and kneeling on the deck, trying to grab his arm to haul him back onto dry land. But, although she’d worn her fat suit for years, she’d never knelt in it like this, nor leaned over so far. She found herself overbalancing and fell into the water as well, driving Keller’s body deeper into the pool.

Michele knew she wouldn’t be able to dive down to the bottom of the pool in her fatsuit, it was too buoyant. Swearing between her teeth, she unzipped out of it and shoved it onto the deck, then dove down deep to grab Keller’s body. She towed him to the shallow part of the pool, then exerted all her strength to lift him out of the pool and onto the deck.

She was prepared to start artificial respiration, but he was already starting to cough and choke. She slapped his face a few times. “Gus, Gus,” she said, urgently. “Come on, baby.”

He opened his eyes.

“I…what…” he coughed, looking bewildered.

Michele sat back on her heels and gave a shaky laugh. “Jeez, Keller,” she said, “You gave me a fright. You slipped and hit your head. And then you went into the pool. And sank like a stone. Damn. I didn’t think that was supposed to happen. I thought unconscious people were supposed to float until their clothing got soaked and dragged them down.”

He blinked up at her

“I….I can’t….” he said…

Michele started to reach behind him to feel his head, when Jan and Adams arrived. Michele almost laughed to see their frightened faces. What, did they think she’d sue them because they’d rented a house with a bloody deathtrap for a pool?

“My god, what’s happened to Mr. Largo?” asked Jan.

“He’s alright, Jan,” Michele told him reassuringly. “He’s alright,”

Michele almost burst out laughing as she saw Jan’s face…taking in her bra and her undies and the fact that her stomach was as flat as a board’s. But the amusement was quickly replaced by anger. Now Adams and Jan…not to mention Keller…knew her real appearance. Damn.

Jan’s lips were working.

“Don’t distress yourselves at all.” Michele said, calmly. “Slight problem with the materials around this pool, but he’s perfectly all right. Get up, Mr. Largo.”

Keller grimaced, but got to his feet. He put a hand to his head and then looked at it. Not much redness.

“I’m fine,” he said, as Michele moved to his side and slipped her arm around his waist.

“Don’t worry, Jan,” Michele told him. “He’s fine. Everything will go as planned tonight, never fear. I’ll just take him up to his room and tend to him.”

“Can we help at all?” asked Jan.

“No, thanks. He’s fine. Come along, Mr. Largo.”

Michele walked with Keller into the house. He was moving with good coordination, and was turning his head this way and that, as if to stretch his neck. If he’d gotten whiplash she’d kill him!

“Don’t slip on these steps, whatever you do,” she told him as they started climbing the steps to the second floor.

“You don’t need to prop me up,” Keller said, in a strong voice. “I’m fine. Just a little bit of blood coming from my skull, is all,” and he raised his hand to the back of his head again.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I am fine.”

She brought him into a bedroom and pushed him onto the bed. “Stay there,” she said, “while I get the first aid kit from the bathroom.”

She returned with the kit, and knelt in front of him. He was still sitting where she’d left him.

Michele knew all about first aid….anyone in her dangerous profession had to be able to patch themselves up, let alone anyone else they came in contact with whom they wanted to keep alive…and had Keller follow her finger with his eyes to make sure they were both coordinated. She probed his skull…standing very close to him in her half-nakedity, and found that he had a bump but no dents where he’d fallen.

He’d be fine. No need for a bandage.

“Whew,” she said, relieved. (Why did she feel so relieved. Was she growing fond of this guy?) “Okay, Keller, you’re fine, though I bet you’ve got a splitting headache, eh? I’ll go down and tell Jan we’re still on for the operation tonight. You won’t need to appear – just stay in your room and sleep it off. I can find out everything we need to know myself.”

“No, I’m fine,” said Keller. “I…. I’m fine." He extended a hand, put it on her waist to stay her. "A bit of a headache…how about some aspirin?”

Allowing his hand to stay on her waist, Michele reached into the first aid kit for a bottle of Tylenol. She shook out two pills, which she handed to him. He took them with his other hand, and popped them into his mouth, swallowing them without benefit water. She placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezed slightly, and then went over to her suitcase and pulled out another kimono, a black one this time.

“So, now you see me as I truly am,” she told Keller, as she wrapped the kimono round her. “And so have Jan and Adams. I’m not too happy about that. Still, needs drives when the devil vomits into your teacup. I’ll go have a chat with them. Lay down and rest up, Keller, I’ll be right back.”