The Doll House Collection
Andrew
by JHB
Andrew found himself awake again, although he wasn’t entirely sure when he had gone to sleep. Nor did he know how he had slept standing up, but it seemed that he had, because he was standing when his eyes opened-or, at least, when he was aware of his eyes being open.
There she was, across the room. It was Sarah, looking as beautiful as ever, her skin flawless, maybe even better than when he had first met her, if that was possible. Her strawberry blonde, silken locks framed her porcelain features as she sat on the bed on the far side of the room, silent, unmoving, and yet her sparkling eyes beckoning Andrew as they had ever since he first saw her.
Standing ramrod-straight-his posture seemed to have improved recently-he began to approach his charge. Odd: he had never before noticed his joints being so stiff before. But his mind drifted back to that day when they had first met.
Even then, she had turned heads, both male and female, with her beauty, and the way her light summer dressed swayed and displayed her gentle curves. Five years out of the Marine Corps back then, Andrew was working with a security firm, and had been posted to provide day-to-day protection for this young heiress.
That was what he did, day after day, for more than fifteen years. There had been three attempts at carjackings, a few dozen stalkers, and even one serious attempt at kidnapping in those years, not to mention countless ridiculous attempts by drunken frat boys (and a few sorority girls) to get a kiss. Also without mention went the long trail of injured assailants, not a few of them hospitalized when they came into contact with Andrew.
He had protected her for a lifetime now. So he was crossing the room to be with her again. There was clicking now; his joints weren’t what they once were, he knew, but he didn’t recall it being so rhythmic, so persistent, before. Still, there was no real pain. He just knew he had to get to Sarah, to protect her. She counted on him.
Other guards in the detail had come and gone over the years, but she always wanted him to stay. After that first time, at a movie premiere, when someone had gotten past the perimeter detail and had come after her, and he had clotheslined the clown, laid him out cold on the sidewalk a few feet from her. Nothing to it, really: the schmuck never knew what hit him, even after he woke up and the cops explained it to him.
Nothing to it, but she looked at him in a whole new light that day, started calling him “my hero.” That was why he got permanently assigned to her; she insisted upon it. And she was very kind to him, giving him more attention and perks than he was really comfortable with. He knew it was some sort of transference on her part, and he tried to brush it aside. But the fact that she was so beautiful, so desirable, was never lost on him. No, they never had some night of wild abandon-that sort of thing was for a cheesy movie with second-tier actors, not for a professional agent like himself. No, he was never inappropriate with her, but always attentive of her and faithfully by her side.
Yes. By her side. He needed to be by her side. Andrew strode across the room, arms swinging at his sides. Sarah still hadn’t said a word, but she was looking right at him, her features as perfect-or more perfect-than ever. The light was shimmering off of her curls, and he felt that same warmth in his heart for her that he had for so long.
It wasn’t sexual attraction, but something very different . . . and more. He had first noticed it during the kidnap attempt, about 8 years into his service with her. They had yanked her out of a bathroom stall at a club, knocked out two agents, and killed one. But they had seriously misjudged the depth of her security detail: five agents, not three, one of whom had the kidnapper’s van under surveillance the whole time. Still, it had a profound effect on him. In that short time when she was out of his sight, in actual danger, he realized how protecting her, providing for her, had become his whole life. He didn’t lust after her anymore, if he ever really had; he was simply devoted to her.
Devoted to her. He always had to protect her. He always had to stay strong for her. He hardly even noticed the continued clicking or the background whir as he got closer to her. Maybe it was just some noise in the ductwork. Didn’t sound like a threat, though. He was glad he was still able to protect her against threats. He had worried that time was catching up with him . . . at least until he met that nice woman.
He thought it was only a few days, or maybe a few weeks ago that he met the woman with the dark eyes. Andrew was sitting in the waiting room at his physician’s office; he’d had some tests taken recently. It had been a few years now that there was gray in his temples, and he was sure he was losing a step or two, speed-wise. But it hadn’t been such a big deal, since she wasn’t making as many public appearances or attracting as much attention as she once did. The public was so fickle: Sarah was every bit as lovely, every bit a vivacious as she had ever been, he was sure of that, but the paparazzi and their ilk had wandered off to their next flavor of the month. That actually made it easier for him to look out for her when he wasn’t as quick as he once was.
The pain, however, was another matter. Not just stiffness in the joints anymore. Not just stinging during his morning rituals anymore. Now he was noticing bleeding before he flushed. Now he felt a lump. And he was taking his one day off a month-Sarah insisted on this, though he didn’t really trust her with anyone else, so she promised to stay home for the day-to get some tests.
But all that was done with. Everything had gone well, which is why he was back on duty, and feeling stronger than he had in some time. But now, three-quarters of the way across this large room, he was noticing himself slowing down again . . . just a bit . . . maybe even modern medicine couldn’t erase all the effects of time.
He recalled the woman with the dark, compelling eyes again. Somehow, sitting there in that waiting room, she had gotten almost all of Andrew’s life story out of him. He had no idea why, but, as he looked at her eyes, it just spilled out of him-he wasn’t usually so talkative. Still, as he fell into her eyes, he just knew he had no reason to worry about it.
“So, you are worried about whether you can keep doing this, keep protecting your Sarah?” she asked, her voice sliding through him like honey and sending tingles cascading down his spine.
Andrew saw she was an impressive woman, elegant and strikingly beautiful. He had never been attracted to anyone except Sarah, whom he gave his life to protect and nurture. And yet, this woman’s eyes . . . and her voice . . . well, they had an effect on him like none he had every known before. He watched her eyes, melted before her voice, and barely whispered “yessssssss” in response.
“What if I were to tell you”—her long, cool fingers stroked his cheek as her eyes held his mind and her voice caressed all the rest of him—“that there was a way for you to be able to protect her always?”
“Yessssssssssss . . .”
Now he was almost to her. He couldn’t remember much about what the doctor said or did, but he knew he was stronger, straighter than he had been in a long time and . . . up until these last . . . few . . . seconds . . . he had . . . been . . . more . . . a—gile . . .
Andrew was straining, pushing now. He thought this was part of what the treatment-whatever treatment there had been-was supposed to solve. But now, suddenly . . . each step . . . was more labored . . . he . . . moved . . . closer . . . but . . . more slowly . . .
The whirring and clicking stopped, but so did Andrew’s joints. Sarah was only inches away, still looking expectantly, confidently for her hero to join her again, to protect her. But he felt as if his legs were moving through cement, as if there wasn’t another . . . step . . . he . . . could . . . how could he have been made well enough to get so . . . close . . . and . . . yet . . .
He was stopped, agonizingly close, but unable to protect or care for his Sarah. Whatever had changed in him, it wasn’t enough.
Then he felt those long, cool fingers that had been on his cheek, at his waist now. And, even though he could not see them, he knew he was locked in the gaze of those wonderful, dark eyes. Then he felt something twisting in his back, and there was clicking, and he swiftly moved to Sarah’s side. She was smiling.
“I promised you would be able to protect her always. You will always be by her side.” There it was, that voice sliding through him like honey and making his spine tingle-even though that seemed a bit different now-the voice of Mistress.
“And I will never be far from yours.”