The Honey Trap

Penny turned to face me, and I saw that tears were running down her face. "Is that really true?" she asked me. "Is she really not your girlfriend?"

"No," I told her solemnly, "she was my partner in the honey trap we set for Frank and Melanie, but nothing more."

"But she's so beautiful," Penny protested. "I could never compete with someone like her."

Rhiannon walked over and put her hands on Penny's shoulders. "You silly girl, I was the one who never had a chance. He only had eyes for you."

Penny looked over at me again. "You mean you never even . . ."

Rhiannon interceded again. "No, Penny, he never did. I could never get his mind off you long enough to get his hands on me. And believe me, I gave him the opportunity."

Penny didn't say anything, but she looked at me with shining eyes.

Rhiannon grinned at us both. "I think it's time I got out of here. I've had harder assignments than this, but somehow this one has worn me out."

At that moment, Melanie picked herself up off the floor. "What about me? Where do I go? I can't go back to Frank's house, not after what's happened."

Penny looked at her thoughtfully. "I don't know what you're going to do tomorrow, but you can sleep at my house tonight. I'm going to go home with Michael." With that she kissed me soundly. I took her hand and decided not to let it go.

But something was bugging me, and I turned back to Rhiannon. "What about Frank? Where did you send him anyway?"

She laughed. "That was the address of a gay bar I know. I wonder how long he'll stay there before he realizes I'm not coming?"

Then her face lost its smile and she looked at me intently. "Good luck, Michael. You're a special man, and I won't forget you." She leaned forward and gave me a gentle kiss. I felt Penny grip my hand even tighter.

Then Rhiannon turned to Penny, and her face assumed a fierce expression. "You treat him right, you understand me? If I ever hear you haven't, I'll come back, and this time I won't take no for an answer."

The fierce expression left her face, to be replaced by a look I later realized was sadness. She reached out and patted my cheek. "But I don't think I'm going to get that lucky."

Then she reached into her purse and stuffed something in my hand. "Goodbye," she said, and then turned and walked out the door, her hips swiveling magnificently. I looked down at my hand. It held four unopened envelopes.