Manhattan Man Hunt Pt 2 ~ A romance sex story from sex story sites.

"Jesus Christ!" Anita whispered.

"I'm sorry, Ms Ruger, I didn't catch that."

"Uh - yeah, right. Come on up. You know the number."

"Yes, I've got your number, Ms Ruger."

And Anita asked herself how come he'd got it? Was this some kind of joke by Toni? Was this guy a strippergram guy and the dog only an excuse to get in? But it was definitely Beech's portly shape dragging its ears on the sidewalk beside him and Toni would never have turned her beloved dog over to some guy she'd just rented from an agency. What the hell was the deal here? Or was she getting a distorted picture from the surveillance camera, maybe from the high angle? Maybe this guy was really only four foot tall and had more body odour than a dead goat?

The first question was answered as soon as she opened the door - his body filled the doorway as if it had been designed for the job without an inch to spare. The shoulders of the leather jacket almost brushed the frame on either side, the tight fitting denim jeans would have made two pairs for Anita and the top of her head didn't even reach his Adam's apple. Anita wondered about his other Adam specific anatomy, a passing thought rapidly overborne by a more immediate concern that maybe it hadn't been a very smart move to let Terminator Three into her apartment. But he was smiling gently at her with that soap-opera-leading-man face. And when he knelt down to unfasten Beech's lead the dog licked his hands with obvious affection. Then he stood up again and slid off a backpack.

"I've brought along Beech's basket, some food for him and a couple of other things. Maybe you've got somewhere I could put them down where they'll be out of the way?"

"Yeah, sure, this way."

'I wasn't wrong, he does have a brogue like Sean Connery. Where had Toni dug this character up from and what the hell was she going to find in Europe that was better than this?'

"Tristan. Is that really your name?"

"I'm sorry, I beg your pardon, I should have introduced myself. Yes, I'm Tristan, Tristan Yorstan. My mother got the stupid name from a TV series."

"Well, nice to meet you, Tristan. I'm Anita. Can I ask what TV series that was?"

"It was about some vets in Yorkshire. Tristan was one of them and my mum decided she'd take the name without bothering about copyright."

Tristan grinned like an embarrassed kid and knelt down on the kitchen floor to begin unpacking the back pack.

"No reflection on your mother, Tristan, but it kind of sounds to me like that Johnny Cash number about a boy called Sue. I was expecting a girl to come round."

He chuckled: "I guess it's one of those things. To tell the truth, every time I look at my birth certificate I feel lucky. Tristan's brother in the TV series was called Siegfried. Being called Siegfried Yorstan is a heavy load to carry through life."

He opened a packet of dog biscuits and poured them into a bowl then took another bowl from the pack. "There wouldn't be any water at all, would there?"

"Surely." She took the bowl from his hand. "You're British, Tristan?"

"Ah, well. British by passport, Scottish by nationality and forever and always an Orcadian."

"Orcady - is that a place in Scotland?"

Tristan smiled and patted Beech's head as the dog began gobbling up the biscuits: "An Orcadian is someone who lives on the Orkney Islands, Ms Ruger. Orcady is a planet in the galaxy Alpha Centauri occupied by green skinned monsters with long tentacles who keep pestering George Lucas to shoot the next episode of Star Wars in their solar system."

Anita felt the tension slipping out of her stomach as she smiled back without reservation: "Oh dear, I've made a fool of myself. I guess geography never was my strong point. And please call me Anita."

"OK, Anita, the next time you meet an Orcadian you'll know that the Orkneys are a group of islands just off the northern tip of Scotland." Tristan was still smiling.

"If it makes you feel any better, when the Falkland Islands were invaded we had an urgent phone call from a London newspaper editor asking us if the Argentinians had landed on the Orkneys as well. We never did find out if he thought the Orkneys were near South America or if he was under the impression that Galtieri was attacking Scotland."