This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don't read it.
Unfortunately no politicians or lawyers were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one else was either.
If you enjoyed it, then please Email me and tell me. If you hated it, Email me and lie.
I will always welcome contact.
AUTHOR'S HEALTH WARNING
Dear Reader,
Life can be a crock sometimes, so if it all right with you, I actually prefer happy endings. So, if you want the hero(ine) to have a really miserable time, READ SOMETHING ELSE.
But if you want to see good prevail, and end up with a soppy smile, then I have achieved what I set out to do.
Please enjoy.
Tanya
tanya_jaya@yahoo.co.uk
The legal stuff.

This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.

Monique

by Tayna J

Part 20.

I settled back into the University routine. In between lectures and assignments I walked about the huge campus and familiarised myself with where everything was. I found Mr Iqbal’s rooms, and they were empty. They had furniture in them, but he was not living there.

I managed to get in, using some of my newly acquired skills, and found that he had not slept here for a while. There was evidence that he used the living room for tutorials, but not for much else. I searched carefully, and found nothing of any use. There was dust everywhere, so I was particularly careful.

I just kept my eyes open. I checked timetables, and worked out when he had lectures. But he was prone to set assignments instead of turning up, and I began to worry that I would never find him.

Wayne had tried hard to get me to go out with him, but found an American girl who was less of a challenge, and I was relieved. But it did not last long.

I was in the gym one afternoon, and was doing some weight training, when a tall boy approached me. He was obviously a body builder, as he was huge. He watched me for a while, and then spoke.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Your muscle tone is excellent.”

“Thanks. You are looking big,” I said, and he laughed.

“You aren’t American?”

“Aren’t I? Oh dear,” I said, and he laughed again.

“I’m Gary, Gary Everslade.”

“Monique Vasselles,” I said, still lifting the weights.

“French, huh?”

“As it happens.”

“You look very fit.”

“It is a good line, I suppose. Not the best, but not bad,” I said, and he grinned.

“You aren’t like the rest of the girls here.”

“Oh no, have one of my breasts fallen off?”

He laughed, and sat on the next bench.

“I saw you here last week.”

“That is reassuring, in case I lose my memory.”

“I saw you running this morning at six.”

“You are very observant. Are you stalking me?”

“No. Shit no. I run at that time too.”

I looked at his huge frame.

“How far?” I asked.

“I only do a mile, how about you?”

“Four miles,” I said, and put the weights down.

“Are you into body building?”

“No. I just like to be fit. I think a woman should look like a woman.”

He smiled.

“Yeah, so do I. And you look pretty damn good to me.”

I looked at him.

“So Gary Everslade, what are you doing here?”

“What? Here in the gym, or at college?”

I just stared at him.

“Oh, at college. I am doing business studies and Middle Eastern Culture. I hope to go into the oil business.”

“Who is your tutor for the culture side?”

“Dr Iqbal. Why?”

“I was curious. One of the girls takes it, and she has not seen him much.”

“Yeah, he isn’t around much, but he gives us good assignments. He holds tutorials sometimes at his house.”

“Oh, does he not live in?”

“He used to, but he has a house on First Avenue.”

I changed the subject, and asked him about his sporting ambitions.

“I play for the football team.”

“Is that the American football, or soccer?”

“Hey, over here football is football, and soccer is what girls play.”

“Oh, in Europe, soccer is football, and American football is played by men who do not have the courage or skill to play rugby,” I said, teasing him.

“Yeah, I’ve played that. Mean game, but too tiring for me.”

“That is because it doesn’t keep stopping for commercial breaks,” I said.

I sat on the bench and started leg presses.

“How come you aren’t like all the other girls?”

“I do not know, how am I different?”

“You care about your body, you care about being fit, and you have self discipline.”

“And the others don’t?”

“Not the ones I meet.”

“Then you meet the wrong ones.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“You are wearing a ring.”

“So?”

“I take it you have someone?”

“Yes.”

“Would he object if I was a friend?”

“I don’t know, what kind of friend?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On you.”

I stopped my leg presses.

“Gary, I love him, I have no problem with having friends, men or women, as long as you appreciate that I am not in the market for a boyfriend. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, grinning.

I moved to the bench press, and altered the weights to some I knew I could manage.

He followed.

“So, your guy. Is he in France?”

“No.”

“In the States?”

“No.”

“Come on, help me out here?”

“He is in the UK.”

“Oh. Is he in college?”

“Of sorts.”

“Monique.”

“You have West Point here, yes?”

“Yes.”

“The British have Sandhurst, it is called the RoyalMilitaryAcademy.”

“I get it, he is going to be an army officer?”

“Oui.”

“Will you come out with me?”

“On a date?”

“Why not?”

“Perhaps. To do what?”

“We could go to a football game.”

“Okay.”

“You will?”

“Why not?”

“Great. Have you a cell phone?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll call you, and let you know when and where.”

I gave him my number, and wondered if I was being silly. But at least this way, I may get closer to Aziz. I wondered if he hadn’t been sent to check on me by the man himself, and decided that he was probably genuine.

“Well, I gotta go. It has been good to meet you, Monique.”

“Au revoir, Gary.”

“Huh?”

“Goodbye.”

“Oh. Yeah, bye then,” he said, and went off to change.

I finished my session, and showered. I was walking back to the house when I saw Aziz in the distance. He was talking to another man, someone I did not know. I altered course slightly, just so I could get closer. Suddenly I was aware that someone was running after me. It was Gary.

I stopped, and allowed him to catch up.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked.

I looked around me, and realised I was way off course for the house.

“I was just going to the library, on the way to the house,” I said.

“Hey, me too, mind if I walk with you?”

“No,” I said, and we moved off.

Aziz and the other man were talking quite heatedly. As we approached, Aziz walked off, towards the staff parking lot. The other man, looking a bit angry, turned and walked in the same direction we were going. Just before the library, he got into a white Chevrolet and I memorised the licence plate.

We went into the library, and I selected and took out a book on Native Americans. I waved at Gary, and dashed back to the house.

I called in with the car and description of the man, and that Aziz allegedly had a house on First Avenue.

The week progressed, and I saw no trace of Aziz or the other man. Gary called on Wednesday, and said he was planning to take me to the game on Saturday. He could get several tickets, and did I know anyone who would like to come.

I asked Stacey and Rachel, and they were all for it. Rachel was getting quite friendly with Klaus, one of the German boys, and Stacey called Brad, who told her that he would try to get down.

On Thursday I saw two of the back-up team. They were in overalls and working as grounds-men, raking up the leaves in the park. I rang in for confirmation as to what I was required to do, and was told to sit tight. The net was closing in.

By Saturday, I was torn. On the one hand I was quite looking forward to the football game, and on the other, I didn’t want to miss out on any action with Aziz.

My main brief was to act as a normal student. So I went to the game. There was a wonderful atmosphere at the game, a real family occasion. I had been to many football matches in England, and there was always a sort of heavy atmosphere, where one felt that tension was never far away. Even when there was little violence, one always felt it was just beneath the surface. The police officers were always nervous, and constantly looking for potential flash points.

But here, there were few police inside the stadium, but loads of stewards. There was almost a carnival atmosphere, and with the bands and entertainers before the game, it was great fun. Once the game got under way, I tried to understand what was going on, and Gary went to great lengths to explain the offensive side, and the defensive aspects. I could not believe the amount of stoppages that occurred, and all the concessions on sale. It is no wonder that the US has an obesity problem.

Still, it was exciting, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, even though I didn’t really understand it. The guys in the blue shirts and white helmets won, and the maroon shirts lost, and I couldn’t really care. But I cheered with everyone else.

We went for a Pizza afterwards, and Brad left, as he had to get back. Gary dropped us off at the house at about ten o’clock. He walked me to the door, and I could tell he was interested in furthering our relationship.

“Gary. Thank, it was fun.”

“Hey, no problem. It was great having you along.”

He hovered a moment, and I knew he wanted to kiss me.

I kissed him on the cheek, and said goodnight. I saw he was disappointed, but I was already spoken for.

“Goodnight Monique,” he said, and I waved.

I went up stairs, and into my room, and Stacey came in.

“Not your type, hey?”

“No. He is a nice boy, but I have Alex,” I said.

“Gary is a hunk,” Stacey said, with a grin.

“Perhaps a little too big. Alex is a real hunk.”

We sat and chatted a while, and my phone went. It was Alex.

“Alex.”

“Hi Monique. How are you?”

“Oh Alex, I miss you so much,” I said. Stacey grabbed the phone from me.

“You must be some guy, she passed up a date with the hunkiest guy because of you,” she said, before I retrieved the phone back, and pushed her out the door, and closed it.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“My friend Stacey.”

“Where are you?”
“I am at the University, in Baltimore, Remember,” I said.

“Oh, I get it, you are working, right?”

“Right. And my name is still Monique here, okay.”

“Okay. I miss you, babe.”

“I miss you too. I want you to do things to me.”

“Oh, Monique, marry me.”

“Oh Alex.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It is an ‘oh Alex’,” I said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, ‘oh Alex’.”

He just laughed.

“I’m starting at Sandhurst in January. So the passing out parade will be around June or July,” he told me.

“You have to pass yet,” I teased.

“I’ll pass.”

“I know. I love you so much.”

“Marry me.”

“Ask me next time you see me,” I said.

“Only if you will say ‘yes’.”

“You won’t know if you don’t ask.”

“You are a tart.”

“I know, but you still love me.”

“I don’t know why I do.”

“I do, it is because we make wonderful love to each other,” I said.

“Shit. Guess what I have?”

“I want you, so bad.”

“Marry me.”

I laughed.

“When will you be back in Britain?”

“I don’t know. I’ll call when I get some time off, and we will get together,” I said.

“I’ve been asked to ask you to come and stay for Christmas with the folks,” he said.

“I’d love to. But I don’t know how my work is fixed.”

“Are you really a secret agent?”

“I love you Alex.”

“Me too. Call me, soon.”

“I will, bye.”

“Bye, oh, and Monique?”

“What?”

“Marry me?”

“Maybe,” I said, and switched the phone off. I smiled. I had so nearly said yes. I knew I would never last the year. But then I didn’t really want to.

since 09/04/04