Journey's End

Stella

By the time we reached the RV, I’d worked myself into such a state of panic that I couldn’t unlock the door. Nate took the key from my trembling hands and slid it into the lock.

“No sign of any other teams,” he said. “We’ve got lots of time to get cleaned up.”

I nodded, swallowing hard over the massive lump forming in my throat.

“We’re gonna take a quick shower,” Nate said to the cameraman before he corralled me down the short corridor to our bedroom.

“No problem,” the guy said. “Take your time.”

I opened the cupboard and grabbed some clean clothes. Nate came up behind me and unclipped the mic from my shirt, flicking it off before tossing it on the bed.

“Relax,” he whispered. “We’ll keep our underwear on.”

I held my breath, willing my thundering heart to settle down as Nate closed and locked the bathroom door behind us.

The rational part of my brain knew this was just a quick shower. Nothing was going to happen with the camera crew in the trailer.

And stripping down to my underwear wasn’t much different from being in a bikini. Besides, hadn’t I pretty much decided I was going to do the deed with Nate at some point on this trip?

Nate stripped down to his boxer shorts and stepped into the tiny shower. “The hot water won’t last long,” he said, disappearing behind the curtain. “You might wanna hurry up.”

I pulled off my muddy clothes and tossed them in the corner with Nate’s stuff.

At least I was wearing a black bra and panties, not white, thank goodness. But they were silky with lace, not exactly conducive to hiding my bits.

I took a deep, cleansing breath and slipped around the curtain, moving in front of Nate as I ducked under the spray with my back to him.

“I hope we don’t clog the drain with all this mud,” I said, glancing down at the floor. I could feel him right behind me. The shower wasn’t designed for two people. It was barely big enough for one.

“Let me,” he whispered, when I reached for my shampoo.

I handed the bottle back to him, surprised it didn’t slip through my trembling fingers. He squirted some in his hand before reaching over my head and setting it back in the caddy.

I closed my eyes when he started massaging my scalp with slow, gentle caresses.

“I like your underwear,” he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “I figured you were more of a white cotton type of girl.”

“I like fancy undergarments,” I said, steadying my voice as I started to get my nerves under control.

“Me too, babe,” he said. “You’re a very sexy woman, Mrs. Miller.”

He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me back against his hard chest as his lips found my neck.

“Relax,” he whispered as he peppered soft kisses from my ear down to my shoulder. “Do you know how badly I want you, Stella?”

I nodded, shivering as he trailed his thumb along the waistband of my panties.

“But not until you’re ready,” he murmured.

I gasped when he ran his tongue under my bra strap, dipping into the groove of my collarbone.

“We should probably get rinsed off before we run out of water,” I whispered, breathless from his kisses.

“Okay,” he agreed with a reluctant sigh. “I guess we can’t show up at the president’s house with shampoo in our hair.”

***

We met Team Girl Power at the entrance to the park, followed by Team SWAT and Team Jock a little further up the road. They had an hour to complete the challenge before high tide.

The remaining teams would have to wait six hours until the low tide returned, or use one of their free passes.

As we headed down the Maine Turnpike toward Kennebunkport, I couldn’t help smiling. We had a huge lead. Barring any major catastrophe, we would win another state that day.

Nate wanted to be lovers. He was going to be my first. My nipples hardened as I relived that shower over and over in my head. It was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced in my life.

Not that I’d had many experiences that could be classified as hot. Or any at all, for that matter.

“What are you thinking about?” Nate asked, glancing at my chest with a sly grin.

“Nothing,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. Sometimes, I think he forgot that pieces of our conversations would be broadcast on national television.

“You’re thinking about our shower,” he chuckled.

I turned my head toward the window so he couldn’t see the telling blush on my face.

“I’m thinking about it too,” he whispered as he reached over and rested his hand on my bare thigh.

My pussy tightened when he slipped his thumb under the edge of my shorts, caressing my inner thigh.

“We need to take the exit just up ahead,” I said, my voice coming out all raspy and weird sounding.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, giving me a wink as he removed his wandering hand from my leg and returned his attention to the road.

When we exited the turnpike at Kennebunk, Maine, we could have been in any small town in the USA.

But as we ventured closer to our destination on the coast, the scenery took on a more Maine-ish feel.

When I pictured Maine, I imagined clapboard buildings and lobster stands. The main street (called Maine Street) in Kennebunkport lived up to my expectations.

I gazed out the window, taking in the gorgeous estates along Ocean Avenue with the occasional glimpse of the Atlantic Ocean.

We passed through a stretch of businesses right on the water, including two lobster places.

“I’d love to come back here,” I sighed wistfully. “Rent a saltbox cottage right on the water, take long walks on the beach, and then eat fresh lobster every night for dinner.”

“Every night?” Nate chuckled. “You might get sick of it.”

“Do you like lobster?” I asked him.

“I do,” he said. “But it’s rich. I don’t think I’d want to consume large quantities of it. It’s something to eat once in a while. Not every night.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had it.”

“What?” he laughed, furrowing his brow.

“I’ve never tried it, but it looks yummy.”

“Then how do you know you wanna eat it every night?”

I shrugged. “I just do.”

“You’re one of a kind, Mrs. Miller,” he said, shaking his head as he reached over and captured my hand, locking our fingers together.

“One way or another, we’re going to get you some lobster before this trip is over.”

“There’s the house!” I squealed, pointing toward the stately mansion sitting on the end of Walker’s Point.

When we reached the driveway leading to the Bush’s house, a black SUV was sitting at the end. Two tall men in dark suits and trench coats climbed out and gestured for us to pull off to the shoulder.

“It’s the secret service,” I whispered.

“Why do I feel like I’m about to get strip-searched?” Nate muttered, rolling down his window when the men approached the driver’s side of the RV.

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Nate Miller.”

“Who’s the girl? Is she here against her will?”

“What?” Nate said, laughing nervously. “That’s Stella. My wife.”

“I’m gonna need you to step out of the vehicle, sir.”

Nate glanced at me with wide eyes before he climbed out of the RV. I watched in horror as they ordered him to lean against the side of the trailer while they frisked him.

This was not happening!

“You’ve gotta do something!” I cried as I turned around to see what the crew was doing. “Tell them we’re filming a TV show. They must think he’s someone else!”

The cameraman ignored me as he filmed the agents searching Nate. Then the taller agent walked around to my door and opened it. “I need you to step out of the vehicle, ma’am,” he said.

I climbed out and stood next to Nate while we waited for our next instructions. The crew didn’t seem concerned, so this had to be part of the challenge.

“There are five assassins hiding on the property,” the agent said. “You need to find all of them. Each one will hand you a card with their name on it.

“When you bring us all five cards, we’ll hand you your next clue.”

“I can’t believe we’re on the former president’s property,” I whispered as we started running. “I bet you he isn’t even here.”

“Probably not,” Nate said.

“There aren’t even any trees. It shouldn’t be hard to find them.”

Famous last words. It took almost an hour to find one assassin. We stumbled upon John Wilkes Booth, hiding in the reeds near the water. Lee Harvey Oswald was up in a tree.

It must have sucked to have their job. They just sat there all day in their hiding spot until every team had arrived and completed the challenge. How boring.

A search of a dense grove of trees on the eastern edge of the estate turned up Charles Guiteau and Arthur Bremer. But the fifth assassin was nowhere to be found.

“Are you sure they said five?” I sighed as we wandered out to the end of the point.

“Unfortunately,” Nate grumbled. “This is fucking ridiculous. How long have we been here?”

“Two and a half hours.”

“I feel sorry for the other teams. They’re gonna end up searching for these guys in the dark.”

“Can you imagine living in a place like this?” I asked as we climbed the steps to the gazebo. “If I had this in my backyard, I’d be in heaven. I could sit out here all day and read books.”

“It does seem like a peaceful spot to indulge in some lady porn,” Nate chuckled.

“Shut up!” I laughed as I sat down on the wooden bench facing the water. “I need to sit for a minute and think.”

“It shouldn’t be this hard,” Nate said as he sat next to me.

He rubbed his hand across his scruffy jaw, sighing heavily. “It’s not like it’s a heavily wooded property. It’s mostly all open. But they’re in camouflage. They blend right in.”

“I love Maine,” I said. “I think I want to live here.”

“Even if we win, I think you’re gonna need a lot more than five hundred grand to live in a place like this, babe.”

“By the time I gave you your half, and paid the tax, I’d only have about one hundred and eighty-seven thousand left, based on California tax laws.

“I assume that’s the state that the contest is registered in and…” I paused when his face broke out in a wide grin, his dreamy eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun. “What?”

“I just really like you.”

“I really like you too, Nate.” I glanced at the cameraman and the sound guy, standing at the edge of the terrace, intruding on our private moment. But they were just doing their job. We were supposed to be completing a challenge.

Nate leaned in, brushing my lips with a soft caress.

“The cameraman is filming us,” I whispered.

“I don’t care,” he murmured as he slid his fingers through my hair, tipping my head back.

He closed the distance between us, capturing my lips with a tender kiss that sent a flood of warmth cascading through my belly.

A moan slipped past my lips as he deepened the kiss, ravishing me with his probing tongue. I grabbed the edge of the bench for support, my fingers slipping under the deep lip.

“Nate!” I cried, pushing against his chest. “Get up!”

“What’s wrong?”

“This bench has a hollow base.”

“Okay?” He stood up, scratching his head while I lifted the seat up.

A female assassin was hiding in the storage compartment. Lynette Fromme sat up, an amused smirk playing on her lips as she handed us her card.

We ran back around the house and down the long laneway to the road. When we reached the gatehouse, we could see two other RVs parked along the road.

“Damn it,” Nate said.

“It’s fine. They’re just getting frisked. Look how long it took us to find all the assassins.”

We handed in our assassin cards to the agent in the guardhouse and collected our clue envelope.

I wasn’t surprised to see Team Girl Power. But I did not expect to see Team Barbie. I couldn’t picture Bianca digging for clams.

I tore open the clue envelope while Nate started up the RV. “Travel to Goose Rocks Beach RV and Trailer Park, Goose Rocks Beach, Maine, and check in.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Nate muttered. “This has been one long friggin’ day. Please tell me it isn’t far.”

“Fifteen minutes,” I said.

***

The Goose Rocks camp was located on a private stretch of beach. Every RV site backed up to the sand. We collected our second state, coming in first by a landslide.

The state nickname for Maine is The Pine Tree state, the capital is Augusta, and the state flower is white pine tassel and cone.

A man in a lobster costume stood next to Rudy at the mat. “Welcome to Maine,” he said, holding out one of his claws for us to shake.

“Team Miller, you are the first to arrive,” Rudy announced. “Congratulations.”

By the time we completed our end-of-leg interviews and pulled into our site, the sun was setting. We worked together to hook our trailer up to the site services before heading inside.

I peeked inside one of the familiar dinner boxes that magically appeared in our fridge on race days. That night, it was a roast beef sandwich and coleslaw.

I wrinkled my nose and shoved it back in the box.

“What’s on the menu tonight?” Nate asked, peering over my shoulder.

“Nothing good,” I sighed, closing the fridge door. My stomach growled as I reckoned with the fact that I was starving, and would have no choice but to choke down that sandwich. “I hate roast beef.”

“Why do you hate roast beef?” he asked, nuzzling my ear as he wrapped his arm around my waist. I relaxed against his chest, enjoying this new dynamic between us.

He wasn’t touching me and kissing me for the benefit of the camera or the other contestants. He was doing it because he wanted to.

“My dad used to cook it every Sunday,” I explained. “And it was always dried out.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Yep.”

He spun me around, pulling me in close while he caressed my lower back. I ran my hands up his chest, massaging his hard pecs.

He closed his eyes for a second, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he sucked in a big gulp of air.

“When did you get these?” I asked, glancing up at him with a shy smile.

“About ten years ago,” he rasped.

I may have been really inexperienced when it came to men. Scratch that. I had no experience with the male species prior to my marriage.

But I understood biology. And I could tell by his tense muscles and his breathing that he was probably very sexually aroused.

He proved my theory correct when he pressed me up against the counter and his erection poked me in the belly. His eyes flashed with pure, animalistic lust.

I dug my fingers into his shoulders while he consumed me with a hungry kiss that sent waves of panic through my belly.

All I did was touch his chest. Was that some kind of secret female signal that told the male she wanted to mate? Was I ready to mate?

A knock at the door saved me from having to shut my husband down. I had to tell him I was a virgin and I needed to take things slowly. Sometimes, I got the feeling that he knew.

Like in the shower earlier, when he said he wanted me, but not until I was ready. But other times, like just now, he seemed more aggressive and determined to get me in bed.

He groaned as he pulled away and went to answer the door.

“Thanks, man. I owe you one,” he said.

He closed the door and set a large paper bag on the table.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Dinner.”

“They already brought our dinner,” I said as I watched him unpack sandwiches and cups of soup.

“Come and sit down, Stella.”

I slid onto the bench across from him and opened my sandwich, peeking inside the bun to see what it was. It looked like some kind of fish, but it didn’t have a fishy smell.

“What is this?” I asked, glancing up at Nate.

“It’s a lobster sandwich. And this is lobster bisque.” He smiled as he placed one of the soup containers in front of me and peeled back the lid.

My mouth watered as the heavenly scent of garlic and sweet fish tickled my nostrils.

“Where did this come from?”

He turned the bag around and looked at the logo. “The Lobster Trap,” he said with a shrug.

“How did you get this delivered here?”

“I’ve got connections,” he chuckled. “You said you’d never had lobster. So, I got some for you.

“I would’ve preferred to take you to a restaurant, where you could have a whole lobster for your first time, but this will have to do for now.”

“I can’t believe you did this for me,” I whispered.

“You’re my wife. Why wouldn’t I want to do nice things for you?” He glanced up from his soup and pointed his finger at me. “Don’t even think about it.”

“What?”

“You were gonna say you’re only my fake wife.”

“I was not.”

“Bullshit.”

I picked up the sandwich and took a small bite. The meat had a weird texture. Soft and a bit chewy, with a sweet, briny taste.

“Well?” Nate asked.

“It’s tasty,” I said after I finished swallowing my first bite. I spooned some soup into my mouth.

Oh, my stars!

I’d never tasted anything so delicious in my entire life. How did they pack so much flavor in there?

I polished off my soup before turning my attention back to the sandwich, inhaling it like I hadn’t eaten in a month. It was that good.

“Did you even taste it?” Nate mumbled around the last bite of his sandwich. He wiped his mouth on a napkin before glancing up at me.

His eyes widened, his jaw going slack as he gaped at me across the table.

“What?” I asked, the word coming out garbled as I realized my tongue was swelling.

“You’re covered in hives,” Nate gasped. “Are you allergic to shellfish?”

“Yeth,” I shouted. “Sats why I athe it!”

“Is your tongue swollen?”

I nodded as I struggled to breathe. My throat felt like it was closing up. I was going to die!