The Blonde III

B*d and Jeanie’s figures were bathed in the light of their front porch lamp as we exited their drive in flurry of pea gravel and the roar of the Beemer’s V-12.

“Hey, are you sure you can handle the power of this machine?” I asked fully aware of the challenge I was issuing to the Long Tall one.

“Handle it?” She returned, “I’ve hand my hands on more power than this before. Daddy used to race his Porsche in Connecticut when I was growing up. Once I was old enough, he would let me spin around the oval during practice and nobody could catch me!”

She said this with out boast or pride, but simply as a fact, and I had no reason to doubt her. I was in awe. Here was a woman of great intellectual power, who drank her scotch neat, enjoyed a fine cigar, and drove with an aggressive edge that said she was meant to own the road.

“I wonder if she can handle a gun”, I found myself thinking. Little was I to know that this question was soon to prove prescient.

Only once before in my life had I found myself so immediately taken. It was back in the early ‘80s; the cold war had come close to a full shooting conflict several times and I was on the front line. I was on assignment in Düsseldorf, Ronald Reagan had just become President and hope was once again in the air. After years of gutless leadership, capped by the feckless cowardice that defined the Carter administration, we were once again on the move against the commies and my life had a renewed purpose.

I was in deep cover during those years. My mission: to uncover the source of funding for a network of Soviet and East German agents who had penetrated the west’s intelligence network. It was a good time for me. My cover was as a wealthy industrialist who was unencumbered by the usual ideological constraints. It was a ploy that played to the commies’ worst images of “evil capitalists”, and it was extremely effective. In their view, I raped the proletariat for my own enrichment and in my spare time I indulged my vulgar interest in the rich man’s hobby – road racing. I made quite a splash on the European circuit, both as a financier, and as an accomplished driver. Ironically, I still hold several series records under my cover identity.

It was on the circuit that I met Annette Meuwissen. A beautiful blonde from Düsseldorf, she drove for team BMW in the women’s trial. Never had I experienced such beauty, such passion and of course such competence. Annette dominated the series while she drove.

We met in ’81 and immediately fell into a passionate affair. Our shared love of driving; our passionate indulgence of Europe’s culinary treasures, and yes, our aggressive love making, defined a period of my life that I treasure to this day. Life is cruel though, and such love, while it burns hot cannot be sustained, and we soon parted ways leaving me with a hole in my soul that was impossible to fill.

Or so I thought!

Suddenly I found myself in the passenger seat of my powerful BMW in thrall with a new, exciting, challenging woman. Such desire I felt! “Could it be love?” I wondered. Surely it was too early to say, and yet, there was that sense that this was a special woman!

We zipped out of B*d and Jeanie’s and before I knew what was happening Annie was powering the Beemer up the entrance ramp of highway 70. Traffic was heavy, but she expertly guided my sleek machine through traffic and into the left lane bound for the lights of DC.

“So where are we headed?” I asked, fully knowing the answer

“Back to my place” replied Annie. “And if you’re good, maybe I’ll invite you up before I send you on your way. I have some 40 year old Bowmore from Daddy’s collection that I might just be willing to share with you.”

“You do seem to have an appreciation for the finer things in life”

“And yet here I am with you!” She said with a wink

I gazed into those deep blue eyes, and I leaned over to kiss her.

I saw it before I heard any sound. In a moment that is carved into my memory, a crimson streak cut across Annie’s forehead. The world began to move in slow motion as drops of blood formed.

“Oh” Annie said quite matter of factly

Of course I knew immediately what had happened. She'd been hit!

In the next moment my world began to spin out of control. Suddenly the back window of my Beemer exploded in a hail of broken glass and the sound of automatic gunfire was in the air! In that instant I knew that the game had taken a drastic, unexpected change and I was going to have to rely on this extraordinary woman for my life.

“What the hell is this X?!” Annie exclaimed looking towards the back of the car where the window had been moments earlier.

“This, my dear Annie, is game time.” I calmly said.

She turned her eyes back to me, and not to be denied by whoever was shooting at us, I leaned in and kissed her. Our kiss, our first kiss, wasn’t long though, since two more shots almost immediately embedded themselves in the trunk of the car.

I released her from my embrace and looked into her eyes. “Time to put Daddy’s driving lessons to good use” I yelled as the sound of more gunfire filled the Maryland night.

“My God!” I thought, “Where did these guys come from?”

Not needing additional instructions, Annie hit the gas and I reached between her legs to remove my Smith and Wesson 500 from its holster under the driver’s seat.

Next: A Crash On MD 70