The Virgin Sex Queen (11 page)

Finally, Marty
broke the silence. “I can’t believe you’re going to spy on
Sophie.”

“I’m not spying
on her.”

“Then what are
you doing?”

“Making sure
she’s okay.”
And finding out who is sampling her
delights
.

Marty looked at
him. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine!”

“Whoa. If you
were a female, I’d be thinking it was that time of the month.”

“If it was that
time of the month, I’d be ripping your head off.” And if it was
Sophie’s time of the month, she’d be ripping someone else’s head
off, which was just fine in Alan’s opinion. As long as that was all
she did.

“So what’s
going on?” Marty queried.

“Nothing.”

“Oh yeah, this
is all a big pile of nothing. You’re acting like a demented
lunatic.”

“No, I’m a
concerned friend.”

“No, you’re a
freak.”

Alan shot him a
sideways glance.

“You go running
in there saying you’re there to make sure she’s okay while wearing
a scowl like thunder and you’ll have all the sheilas screaming and
running out. I mean, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You wouldn’t
understand.”

“You got that
bloody right.” Marty’s eyes narrowed. “Though…hmmm.”

Not liking the
sound of that
hmmm
, Alan concentrated on the traffic,
leaving Marty to his unspoken thoughts.

The bookshop
soon came into sight but there were no nearby parking bays, so Alan
drove around until an elderly gent appeared and got slowly into his
old car. It took several minutes before the old codger indicated
and pulled out. Alan swung in so fast he almost clipped the back
end of the car.

Marty grabbed
onto the dashboard as he slammed the breaks on. “Nice driving.”

“Up yours,”
Alan returned automatically as he got out of the car and looked
around. Marty barely had time to get out and shut the door before
Alan beeped the locks closed and trotted off to the bookshop.

In the window
was a large sign
Book Signing Now with Sophie Willow, Erotic
Romance Author!
On each side of the sign were posters of
Sophie’s books with their lurid covers. Great. No doubt there were
male perverts in there, all ogling Sophie and wanting to rip her
clothes off. It was enough to make a decent man’s brains boil.

Peering through
the window, he saw that the bookshop was full of women. Of Sophie
there was no sight. Not good enough, he had to get closer and see
what was going on.

Marty tapped
him on the shoulder. “Are you sure about this?”

“About
what?”

“What are you
going to tell her when she sees you?”

“She won’t see
me.”

“So why are we
here?”

“I want to
check something out.”

Opening the
door, Alan glanced around before easing behind the women who
crowded the room.

Muttering,
Marty followed him.

Sliding along
the window, Alan ducked behind a book shelf and peered over the top
of it. Still couldn’t see the chick. Where was she? The crowd of
women holding books and chattering excitedly were hiding her from
sight, but seeing the direction in which they were all facing, he
had a good idea where she was situated.

He shuffled
along, peeking over the books, only to come to the end of the
aisle. Several steps and he was behind another long shelf of
books.

Two women
looked askance at him, so he simply smiled to them and picked up
the nearest book, opening it and pretending to check out the
contents. After several seconds, he peeked back over the book to
find the women staring at him.

“Ah - Alan?”
Marty tapped him on the shoulder.

“What?”

“Considering a
sex change?”

“What?”

Marty pointed
to the book.

Closing it,
Alan read the title.
Man to Woman, Everything You Want To Know
About Sex Changes But Are Too Afraid to Ask.

“Shit!” Shoving
it back onto the shelf, he smiled weakly at the women and shuffled
onwards.

Snickering,
Marty followed. Bastard.

Ignoring him,
Alan pretended to peruse the books, all the time casting peeks over
the aisle. Ah, now he was getting closer. He could hear her
laughter, the warm sound sliding through him. Her voice was husky,
her words ringing with confidence.

The end of the
shelf. Damn. But then he brightened when he saw that the next
bookshelf was even taller and the bookracks enabled him to see
through to the other side.

Within minutes
he had Sophie in his sights. Plucking a random book from the shelf,
he peeked over the top of it at her.

She was the
epitome of a cool, calm, and very sultry erotic romance writer, or
what he thought one would look like. The glossy, dark brown curls
were piled on her head in an elegant but slightly messy bun of some
kind, little strands slipping out to tickle her apple cheeks.
Glossy lipstick, some kind of black shit artfully applied around
her eyes to make the hazel stand out, and dressed in some kind of
gauzy see-through jacket.

Jesus, was she
wearing anything underneath it? No sooner had the thought startled
him than he put a hand to his chest and blew out a relieved breath.
Underneath it she wore a flesh-coloured tank top. No bared titties
there for anyone to see, thank God.

He couldn’t see
what else she wore below the waist due to the desk she sat behind,
but it was enough. The chick was decently dressed. She’d sure as
shit be answering to someone if she hadn’t been, that someone being
him.

Now to see if
some pervert lothario was sniffing around her.

Marty nudged
him. “Seen enough?”

“No.”

“She’s not in
mortal danger.”

“Not that I can
spot right now, no.” Alan’s gaze scanned what he could see of the
room.

“So why are we
still here?”

“You can go if
you want. I’m staying put to keep an eye on her.”

“I think this
falls under the category of spying.”

“I’m not
spying.”

“My mistake.
Stalking.”

There were only
women in the bookshop. No drooling men with nefarious thoughts.
Good.

“And there’s a
law against stalking somewhere, I’m sure of it,” Marty said. “Hey,
you’re a cop. Isn’t there a law against this kind of thing?”

“What kind of
thing?”

“Stalking.”

Alan scowled at
him. “I’m not stalking her.”

“Then what are
you doing here?” Marty asked. “Protecting her from her fans?”

“I’m…”

“Yeah?”

Alan looked
back at Sophie. She was laughing at something a woman was saying,
her eyes bright, her face animated. Happy.

And here he
was, sneaking around behind bookshelves watching her.

Marty was
right, there was a law against this kind of thing.

“You’re
obsessed with her,” Marty stated bluntly.

“Obsessed?”
That made him sound like a crazed stalker. “I am not obsessed!”

Several women
glanced towards the bookshelves, one whispering to another as an
alarmed expression crossed her face.

“If you want
any hope of keeping your career, not to mention your stalker face
out of the newspapers, I suggest we leave,” Marty said.

Now he was
feeling a little foolish. For the benefit of the watching women,
Alan held up the book, pretended to read the back cover, then shook
his head and replaced the book with an air of disappointment.

“What are you
doing?” Marty hissed.

“Throwing them
off the track.”

“Seriously?”
Marty rolled his eyes. “Alan, you’d make a piss-poor stalker. Come
on.”

More than aware
that several pairs of eyes followed them, Alan retraced his steps
quickly to where they’d first come in, sliding behind the women to
make his escape out the door, Marty leading the way.

Once outside on
the footpath, his friend punched him on his arm. “What the hell was
that all about?”

Rubbing his
arm, Alan glared. “Nothing.”

“Man, there is
something seriously wrong with you, and I mean more than normal.
You’re reading erotic romances, you’re stalking the author, I mean,
what’s going on in that head of yours? Anyone would think - “ Marty
stopped, his eyes widening. “Oh. Oh! Ohhhh…”

Irritated, Alan
planted his hands on his hips. “What?”

“You’re - I
don’t believe it.” Marty whipped out his mobile phone and started
to dial a number.

“Who are you
calling?”

“Satan.”

“Satan?” Had
his friend lost his mind?

“Yeah. It’s
snowing in Hell. He needs a heads up to buy a winter coat.”

“Smart arse.”
Thrusting his hands into his pockets, Alan started walking back
towards the panel van. “I don’t know why you’re making such a thing
out of this.”

“
Me?
”
Falling into step beside him, Marty looked incredulously at Alan.
“I’m not the one stalking a woman!”

“I’m not
stalking her.” When Marty opened his mouth, Alan held up a hand. “I
don’t know where you get this stupid idea but I’m not interested.
Now come on, quit farting around. I have to get home and get ready
for work, and I still have your big arse to drop off on the
way.”

Shaking his
head, Marty waited until Alan had unlocked the doors before sliding
into the passenger seat.

Getting in the
other side, Alan glanced at him while doing up his seat belt. “I
don’t know where you get these weird ideas, Marty. Marriage has
messed with your head.”

“But I…” Marty
stopped and simply shook his head again.

“Yeah,
speechless. I rest my case.” Starting the car, Alan checked the
traffic before pulling out onto the road.

Yep, he felt a
lot better. A little foolish maybe, but better. There’d been no man
there sniffing around Sophie’s legs - or anywhere else on her - and
she’d been sitting there surrounded by women, doing her thing. All
safe and secure.

Safe and secure
from any bloke who might be interested in her.

Four hours
later he was sitting in the patrol car, Mike a silent presence
beside him. Nothing odd about that, it was what was wrong with
himself that was the problem. He’d had time to think.

The silence
stretched between them as they drove along, Alan gazing out the
window and wondering what the hell
was
wrong with him. As
they passed the bookshop, the poster proclaiming Sophie’s presence
no longer there, he heaved a sigh.

Marty would
have asked him what the matter was, but not Mike. Oh no, the big
lug just sat there driving in silence, waiting for Alan to spill
his guts or not, whichever he chose.

Finally, Alan
broke the silence. “I think I’ve turned into a stalker.”

A grunt was the
only reply he got in return.

“Today I went
to the bookshop and spied on Sophie through the bookshelves.”
Humiliating. Just the very memory had him cringing in his seat. How
could he have done that? Why had he done that? How old was he, for
God’s sake? Twelve?

Another grunt
from Mike.

“I can’t
believe it I did it.” Alan stared out the window. “The chick has
done something to me.”

Third
grunt.

“I mean, I
don’t chase chicks.”

This time there
came a snort.

“Okay, I do
chase chicks, but I…well shit, man, I don’t know what came over
me.”

Silence.

“One minute I’m
reading this chick porn, the next thing I’m stalking Sophie.” He
turned his head to look at Mike. “What does that make me?”

“Insane
stalker.”

“Great. I might
have known I’d get no advice from you.”

“You’re reading
erotic romance. What can I say?”

“Oh, please,
don’t hold back.”

Mike slid a
slow, cold-eyed look at him. “You don’t stalk ladies.”

Alan’s eyes
widened. “Ladies? You’ve met Sophie?”

“No. I’m just
saying, you don’t stalk ladies.”

“So it’s okay
to stalk women, just not ladies?”

Another
cold-eyed look.

“Right.” Alan
returned to staring out the window.

After several
seconds, Mike rumbled, “You get laid recently?”

“What’s that
got to do with it?”

“You’re always
chasing women. Maybe you’re building up pressure and it’s squashing
your pea brain inside your head.”

Alan’s head
shot around so fast to stare at Mike that he almost gave himself
whiplash. “Was that a joke? From you?”

The corner of
Mike’s mouth twitched ever so faintly. “Just an idea.”

“I think I need
CPR.”

“No, maybe what
you need is a reality check.”

“Huh?”

“Why are you
reading romances?’

“Don’t say it
like that.”

Third cold-eyed
look.

“Geez. Fine.
I’m researching.”

“You want to
get inside this lady’s head, you spend time with her.”

Alan snorted.
“When I spend time with her, she
messes
with my head.”

“Which
head?”

“Holy cow, that
must be a record for you. Two jokes in five minutes.”

“I’m not
joking.”

From the stoic
expression Mike wore, Alan had no idea, but knowing Mike, he
probably was serious. Which meant one thing. “If you’re saying my
dick is leading my brain, you’re wrong.”

“So how does
she mess with your head?”

“Are we now
talking head or…?”

Fourth
cold-eyed look.

“Right.” Alan
rested his elbow on the doorframe. “Yesterday her cousin came in
and interrupted us.” When there was no comment, he added, “I’d just
been teasing Soph and somehow it all got weird.”

Still no
comment.

“I sort of
kissed her neck.”

No comment.

“I don’t know
if she realised it.”

No comment.

“And I sort of
felt her…you know.” Alan made an exaggerated shape of a heart.