CHAPTER 3: THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND

Previously

Hmmm…. Technically, he was off duty. He could get some coffee for the guys AND chat with her some more to see if they had the right chemistry for dating. Win-win there. He'd worry about snacks once he had the coffee.

"Thank you." He touched her shoulder very briefly, wanting to emphasize his thanks without coming across as pervy. "Sounds good, but we'll probably need two pots. These are big guys and there's five of them. And I'll need something to put it in."

"Oh, we'll find something to put it in, all right," Cheryl smiled at him, the very tip of her tongue darting out for a split second to touch her lip. "Just follow my lead." She walked off to her car hips swaying way more than on her walk to the diner.

"Yes, ma'am." Lester grinned and went to his car.

CHAPTER 3: THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND

As he followed Cheryl's car through the neighborhood, Lester thought back to their first and only meeting a few months ago. Come to think of it, that dance club wasn't all that far from here. Each had been by themselves that night so it felt right to hang out together. There had been a bit of "getting to know you" chatting throughout the evening while the dancing had gotten closer and hotter with every song.

Let's see. She worked on the Pennsylvania side of the river as a CNA. Hmm..what did that stand for? Oh - the scrubs she was wearing. She was a nursing assistant. She wasn't much for reading but liked some of the same movies that he did and she collected…um…something. She had a nice smile, too.

After a couple of hours of vertical foreplay on the dance floor, she had invited him back to her place. They had kissed their way across the parking lot to her car which he had promptly pinned her against for some more kissing and heavy petting. They'd been having a damn good time right there with all their clothes on - he'd made sure Cheryl in particular had had a VERY damn good time - when his phone went off.

Inwardly, he had cursed his luck but outwardly he had made his apologies. Cheryl had shrugged, produced a pen out of nowhere, and written her phone number on the palm of his hand. He fully intended to call her but by the time the high-dollar skip had been rounded up and handed over to authorities, the ink had rubbed off.

He had returned to the club more than once, but hadn't seen her again. He wouldn't blame her if she was upset. After all, from her point of view, she'd been ghosted. Judging from her attitude in the parking lot just now, though, she didn't hold it against him.

She pulled up in front of a long section of narrow 2-story row houses. There had to be at least 16 of them, all crammed together directly across from the huge county park here in Hamilton Township. The ground floor on each unit had a covered porch that had later been enclosed. The second floor was set back from the first with a narrow bay window looking out over the roof of the first floor.

Cheryl had gotten the only empty spot so he continued half a block down and parked on a small graveled area under the trees on the county park side of the road.

She stood on the sidewalk waiting for him. The streetlight closest to her unit was out, putting her mostly in silhouette. When he was close enough, she smiled and took his hand, leading him up the 3 steps to the door. She dropped his hand to unlock the door and swing it open for him. Lester closed the door behind them, locking it out of habit, while she turned on a small lamp next to a well worn sofa.

"Be right back," she said as she disappeared down the hall toward the back of the house.

Lester helped himself to a seat on the sofa. He figured she was getting the coffee started and took a moment to check for messages. No new ones. Good. She was back by the time he slipped his phone into his pocket. That was quick. Instead of sitting with him, she reached for his hand again and tugged. He took the hint and got to his feet.

Cheryl gave him a saucy grin, said, "You said you were on break so I figured you couldn't stay long. Thought we ought to get right to it." and led him upstairs.

She took him into the first room at the top of the steps and turned on a little bedside lamp. The bedroom was tiny, barely big enough for the double bed and the dresser, but was clearly the master bedroom. It was at the front of the house so it had the narrow bay window that looked out over the porch roof. A wooden chair was set into the window with paperback books stacked beside it.

Cheryl put her hands on his chest, slid them up to cup his face, and tipped his head down to kiss him. Before he could deepen the kiss, she started placing little kisses across his jaw and down his neck. When she got to his collarbone, she paused to murmur, "How about we pick up where we left off?"

"I couldn't agree more," he replied, then trailed kisses of his own across her face and under her neck.

Lester couldn't believe his luck. First he bumps into her purely by chance, then she's not upset with him, and best of all, she's still interested in him. Awesome. Sometimes it was great to be Santos.

Admittedly, he was a little concerned about how ten days of long hours and very little sleep would affect his performance. Lester knew he'd gained a reputation as a ladies man. Someone who'd give a woman a night to remember.

The problem with a stellar rep was that sometimes it took on a life of its own, blurring the line between the reality of an outstanding experience and utter exaggeration. There was always a possibility it could outstrip reality, setting the bar too high for anyone to meet.

Usually, it didn't bother him. But occasions like this when he wasn't at physical peak, Lester could feel the weight of every one of those expectations. Any little thing that wasn't top notch that would go unnoticed if he'd been just a regular guy, would be a huge disappointment from him.

Talk about pressure.

Based on how rapidly he was responding that wouldn't be an issue tonight, nor would the limited amount of time at their disposal. He was all about quality interaction and putting his partner's needs first. This might be fairly quick, but he'd make sure she was satisfied.

They spent a few minutes getting reacquainted. He peeled off her shirt, touching and kissing his way across her shoulders and arms as her warm skin was laid bare. She kicked off her work shoes and scrub pants then ran her hands down his side and grabbed fistfuls of his polo shirt. Lester disengaged from their kiss and held her wrists to stop her hands from their wanderings.

"Hang on a second, hon." He waited until she was looking him in the eyes. "Remember I said I was in security?"

She nodded and took a second to get her breathing under control before she replied. "Hard to forget when you've got that weapons belt on. You should probably take that off now."

"Oh I am," he assured her. "I've got a couple of other items to add to it so give me a minute and don't be alarmed by anything you see."

With that, he pulled the Glock 19, holster and all, from inside the back of his cargo pants. He clipped the holster to the utility belt with his stun gun and Sig Sauer M17. Then he bent down to rip open the velcro straps on the ankle holster that held two knives. While he was there he untied his boots and loosened the laces. He straightened back up and fastened the ankle holster around the utility belt as well, next to the pepper spray and Ka-bar knife. He thought it best to leave the handcuffs and zip ties in his cargo pockets. He then unbuckled the utility belt, removed it, and buckled it back up. Carefully, he turned to set the very fully loaded belt on the chair in the bay window.

While he transferred and secured the weapons, Lester covertly checked for her reaction. Some women got frightened or uneasy when they saw the extent of his body arsenal. Those ladies he'd try to reassure, but if they were truly uncomfortable, he'd respect their wishes and leave. Occasionally, a woman got way too excited. Those were ones to watch out for. He'd noped out on the spot a couple of times when the woman seemed way more turned on by his weapons than by him. Cheryl seemed to take it in stride. Another plus for her.

She moved back into place, hands grabbing the bottom of his polo. He helped her pull it over his head and then turned and tossed it on the chair over his utility belt. She palmed his chest and he gasped when she flicked his nipples with her thumbs.

She leaned up to lick at the pulse point on his neck and whispered "Pants. Off. Now."

He toed off his boots as she unbuckled his belt. She pressed the heel of her hand down the length of him making his breath ragged and his heart pound. She cupped and squeezed him before finally, slowly, easing his zipper down. He grabbed the waistband to keep his pants from hitting the floor due to the weight of the items in his pockets. He stepped out of them and turned to add them to the pile on the chair. Before he did, though, he got the emergency backup condom out of his wallet.

When Lester turned back to her, the look of anticipation on Cheryl's face turned to surprise as she looked at his crotch. She barked out a "Ha!" Immediately, her hand came up to cover her mouth, clearly trying to suppress laughter.

This was not at all a reaction Lester was accustomed to. Anticipation? Sure. Surprise? Yeah, sometimes when the lady realized just how well endowed he was. But laughter? No. Amusement? Never. Was she laughing at him? Did he have a hole in his underwear? An embarrassing stain? A sock hitchhiking via static cling? What? Feeling uneasy and, frankly, kind of hurt, he looked down.

Oh. Right.

He hadn't expected any romantic encounters when he'd dressed for work this morning. His black boxer briefs were comfy, clean, and sock free. They also had writing on the front. On the right leg was a big white arrow pointing straight up. Under the arrow, in huge white block letters it said "THE MAN". On the other leg, there was an arrow pointing directly to the crotch panel. The big white block letters under that arrow said "THE LEGEND".

Lester shrugged, gave her his best charming crooked smile and said, "Truth in advertising."

No longer laughing, Cheryl was staring at his briefs with a wicked gleam in her eye. She flexed the hand that had gripped him. "You can say that again." She licked her lips, pressing her body against his, and that was the last conversation for a while.

The encounter was brief but intense. Lester had met her needs twice before she shoved the waistband of his boxer briefs down past his ass, pushed him flat on his back on the bed, and climbed aboard the Lester Express. Destination - Paradise.

They arrived at that destination together and Cheryl collapsed onto him. Both of them were sweaty and sated, panting like they'd just run a mile. He stayed in position, knees bent, underpants around his ankles, caught on his socks. He held her as she lay on his chest, his hands lazily skimming over her back.

Lester loved this part. He was a big badass and a lethal mofo in the field so people assumed he wasn't a cuddler. Truth was, he loved the cuddling and the whole "basking in the afterglow" shit way more than he wanted to admit. He wished they could fall asleep this way but he had to get going. There was always next time, now that he'd found her again.

He kissed her forehead and said, "I hate to break this up, but that first pot of coffee has to be done by now."

He felt her stiffen. She lifted her head to look at him, eyebrows raised. "You were serious about that?"

Now his eyebrows went up. "Well, yeah. What did you think I meant?"

She pushed up, holding her weight on her arms. "I thought you were just flirting. You know, that 'oh, come up for a drink' that's really code for 'let's get laid'."

Oh for fuck's sake. He lifted his torso to rest on his elbows. She sat all the way up, straddling his hips. The Legend, while not at its full glory, was still nestled up inside her.

He tried not to sound aggravated. "This wasn't just 'come over for coffee'. I said it was for the guys at work. I said I'd need two pots."

Cheryl frowned, running a hand through her hair. "I thought that was a euphemism about size or endurance or something. Though if it was, you should have said three or four pots because, DAMN."

She wriggled as she said that and The Legend perked up, the traitor. The rest of Lester was really not in the mood for more. The rest of Lester was, in fact, kind of peeved.

"I said I'd need something to put it in. That's not part of the come up for coffee thing." He thought he'd been pretty damn clear. How could she have misunderstood that entire conversation?

Cheryl tilted her head and made an "Oh, really?" face. Using both her hands, she gestured emphatically at her crotch. "Found you something to put it in."

Lester flopped back onto the mattress and huffed. Dammit. No point getting annoyed especially since he wanted to see her again. His hands caressed her knees. A moment later he felt her fingers making light circles on his stomach.

"Okay," he conceded. "I can see how that may have been interpreted. But I really do have to get going."

Cheryl nodded and disembarked. She picked up a small wastebasket from next to the dresser and held it out. He stood up, removing the condom. He tied it closed and dropped it in. She grabbed a robe from the back of the door and put it on.

Lester pulled up his underwear, gently tucking in The Legend. As he pulled on his cargo pants, he took a breath, intending to ask for her number again. Before he could speak, he heard someone unlock the front door. Did she have a roommate?

He knew she didn't have a boyfriend because he'd asked. He always asked. Always. And it wasn't because sleeping with someone who was already sleeping with someone else usually led to messy scenes full of awkwardness and fisticuffs. The main reason Lester asked was because he was no cheater and he wouldn't help anyone else cheat either.

"Shit!" She looked panicked. "Ronnie's home early. You've got to go. Now!"

She picked up his boots and hurried over to where he stood in the nook of the bay window.

He quickly fastened his pants. "You said you didn't have a boyfriend," he reminded her sharply. He stuck his arms through the sleeves of his polo shirt and tugged it over his head.

"I don't," she insisted.

A voice, higher pitched than he'd expected, drifted up the stairs. "Baby? You still awake?"

"Then who the fuck is that?" He hissed in an angry whisper.

She opened the window and flung his boots out. One landed in the middle of the porch roof. The other rolled off the edge. He heard it thunk onto the sidewalk.

"My girlfriend." Cheryl pointed to the open window. "Out!"

Lester went from angry to truly pissed. She knew what he was asking when he had asked about a boyfriend and she deliberately withheld the existence of a girlfriend. Getting caught screwing around was her problem, not his. He had planned on leaving through the front door. But with one boot stuck on the roof…shit. Shit, fuck, and god dammit.

Cheryl looked him straight in the eyes as she yelled, "I'll be right down."

Lester recalled something from his training in interrogation. If you want better answers, ask better questions. Clearly he'd need to make adjustments to that particular question. Fuck.

There was the sound of someone stomping up the stairs and Ronnie yelled "Dammit, Cheryl. Did you bring someone home again?"

Lester slung his utility belt over one shoulder and squeezed through the window. It slammed shut behind him and he heard loud voices as he snatched up his boot. He dropped off the roof, flinching when the uneven concrete of the sidewalk bit at his stockinged feet. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Even then his boot was only a deeper shade of black hiding under the bumper of a car.

Not wanting to linger in front of the house in case Ronnie came bursting out looking for blood, Lester crossed the street then headed toward his SUV.

He moved gingerly due to all the gravel and road debris. Ouch. Ow. His work socks, sturdy as they were, offered no protection. Ouch and dammit. Okay. Change of plans. Instead of putting his boots on in the safety of the SUV, he better put them on now.

He dropped his boots to the ground and crammed his feet into them. He shifted the heavy utility belt so it fell more across his back and out of his way. He'd put it on after his boots. Crouching, he tied the right boot then switched feet to tie the left. As he pulled the laces to tighten them, one side snapped off.

Oh for fuck's sake. Wasn't anything going to go right tonight? He was angry. Angry, disappointed, and hurt. He had liked her, dammit. Was interested in dating. And she was just using him to get off. AND she made him a cheater by association. Shit. Lester muttered to himself, upset enough to revert to cursing in Spanish.

Still crouched under the trees beside the road, he began taking deep breaths in through his nose and slowly releasing them through his mouth. He had a mission to complete. Coffee and snacks for the guys Concentrate on that. He'd get himself calmed down and resume the search for fresh coffee and snacks. Though at this point, he'd settle for instant coffee and packaged junk food if he could find an open store.

As he focused on the techniques he'd learned from Uncle Sam, Lester felt his blood pressure drop. He visualized the muscles in his shoulders, neck, and jaw relaxing.

Then he felt it. He was being watched. He hadn't heard any doors open or any footsteps, so he didn't think it was Ronnie or Cheryl. It was the kind of visceral reaction he'd always been able to rely on the field.

There was a flicker of movement ahead and to the right. A very large dog eased out from between the cars parked in front of the row houses. It slowly stepped into the open, midway between him and the SUV, and faced him. Even at night and from a distance, he could tell it wasn't friendly.

Madre de Dios.

Then he heard the low growl behind him..