::THIRTY::

“I thought you had some sort of a heart attack on me, Vetter. I thought I’d have to call 911, maybe get them to send an ambulance out to that motel and get you kick started.”

Alvarez. I miss him and that’s a strange thing to think about another guy I guess. Jeanette and I had stopped to get coffee and something to eat before going back to the motel. We pulled into a large bookstore with an attached coffeeshop, on our way back. Sitting at the small table with a sandwich and the first thing I think of is Alvarez. Jeanette nibbled at her sandwich, pulling the tomato out of it, before getting up to look through the bookstore. Her tiny apartment is filled with books, and, working in a bookstore herself, it’s not surprising that she loves them. I told her I’d call Alvarez, and wait for her.

I like watching her too, when she gets lost in something. Her soft smile as she held books with a reverence I couldn’t fathom. I can picture her curled up in a chair reading for hours and being perfectly content. I want her to do that, when she moves in with me. Maybe I’ll have to move some stuff around, and find the perfect place for her; there’s a spot in front of the fireplace. I almost forgot about Alvarez as I watched her across the store, thinking about rearranging my house, our house, for her to live there.

“I damned near did have a heart attack, Alvarez, but I don’t think sending anyone to help would have been a good idea.” Especially not if they had shown up later.

Alvarez is laughing hard on the other side of the phone. “I kind of figured it would be something like that. Are you by yourself? Can you talk?” His voice is quiet, almost conspiratorial, which is funny given the amount of distance between us.

“Yea, Jeanette is shopping right now.” He’s got me whispering now. I smile at Jeanette when she looks back at me from the corner of the bookstore. “The back porch…” I don’t even know how to continue or how to ask, grinning like a fool, thinking of asking Jeanette. The thought doesn’t terrify me anymore. It’s strange, it seems I’ve waited for this vacation forever and now I can’t wait for it to be next Wednesday, to get home again.

“We finished it last night. Sandro wouldn’t leave until it was perfect, he nearly fell asleep in the flower bed. If you want it to be a surprise, we’ll have to keep him away from Jeanette, I’ve never seen him this excited over anything before.” Sandro is a serious kid, he’s loud and excitable, but deadly serious. It’s funny to think that Alvarez was probably exactly like that as a kid.

“And you’re okay, Alvarez?” I’m going to worry about him until I get back, until this is over.

“It’s quiet here, Vetter. Holloway keeps feeding Torres information. That kid’s like a bulldog. I sat in on lunch with him and Holloway today, listening in, the kid actually grilled Holloway. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that happen, ever. I’m starting to wonder what Douglas’s angle really is here.” I sit quietly, listening to Alvarez go over the points that Holloway gave Torres. Alvarez said he almost gave himself away, laughing at a table further down from the two men. “I did find out something interesting. Did you know that Torres was one of Douglas’s agents? He brought him over from another office. They’ve worked together before. Not for long of course.” Torres had only been an agent for about six months, but there’s a lot of training, and grooming, that goes into that beforehand.

“Douglas and Torres could have gone back years. That’s interesting. I doubt the kids’ tenacity would come as a surprise then. Do you think maybe that Douglas could have put in a rookie, to appease someone else who might be watching?” Everybody takes their orders from somebody. With a theft of $270 million, who knows who Brubaker could have bought off. I wonder if putting Torres on the case was Douglas’ way of appeasing Brubaker, by assigning a rookie, while appeasing his own conscience, by assigning a rookie that wouldn’t screw it up? One that he knew would find a way to do what Douglas himself couldn’t?

“It’s interesting all right. I still don’t know how the DEA angle will play out. We had another anonymous article, again out of the university. It hinted around at Brubaker being behind the killing of his own backup. A blurb on the bottom of the article said they would be presenting proof, and further articles, in the coming days.” Alvarez read off some of the article to me. Vega’s information again.

“I wonder what happens when that proof, in Brubaker’s own handwriting, comes out?” Jeanette is waiting in line to buy a small stack of books, grinning from ear to ear, hugging the books to her chest. Seeing her happy gives me butterflies again.

“Maybe the fact that Douglas was Brubaker’s partner a long time ago, when he was a rookie himself, isn’t going to seem as important as a senior DEA agent being responsible for killing his entire back up so that he could steal $270 million in coke and heroin?”

“He might feel safe enough to step up, then.” Jeanette holds up the book she’s bought as she walks up to the table to rejoin me. A History of the Hawaiian Shirt. She giggles behind the bookcover like a little girl, cute again. Our hands automatically reach out for each other, resting on the arm of her chair.

“Jeanette’s back? Give her a hug for me, Vetter.”

I start to laugh, as I thumb through the book she’s bought, with it’s hundreds of Hawaiian shirts. Deepening my voice, I ask him, “Hey Alvarez, tell me what you’re wearing….”
—-

The rest of the books she’s bought lie forgotten in a stack on the table. She bought the book for Alvarez, and colouring books from Seattle for the two boys, as well as a book for herself. A horror novel, if the cover is anything to go by. Scary movies and scary stories.

We sit beside each other in two deep plush club chairs, paying only enough attention to our coffee to keep from dumping it. Not saying anything, not with words anyway. Anyone watching couldn’t miss the conversation we were really having, the silent one. She’s curled in her chair, leaning across, our fingers interlaced and tracing patterns over each other. We’ve been this comfortable all day, quiet and comfortable. In a way that spoke to a relationship spanning many years, not weeks. In a way, it’s this I’ve missed most of all, more than anything else.

We could rush back to the motel, throw everything on the floor and get lost in each other for hours. The hurried sex of those eager to hold onto something fleeting and unsure, something that may not last the night, the week. There’s something to be said for waiting, for knowing that we can wait. More than a date, more than a girlfriend. This is something deeper, something more.

As one, our heads rest back into the chairs, our eyes never leaving each other. Everyone else disappears, there’s only her, my beautiful Jeanette. The heat builds between us without saying a word and our hands tighten, the tracing of patterns slower somehow, more sensual. Both clear in what we want, without the need to say a word, the comfort in knowing that we would never have to.

Our hands still, we’ve both waited long enough. Separating but only long enough to reach out as we kiss, a gentle brushing of lips. It’s her eyes I’m watching, lost in their near blackness, passion darkening them. “‘Nette?” My own voice feels raw and deeper than normal even for me, saying her name but asking so much more.

“Let’s go.” Her voice is a whisper, answering the question I never had to say aloud. Our hands reach for each other again, touching my jaw, touching her hair, driven by the spark as we kissed again, deeply, before getting up to leave.

The hum of anticipation stayed with us during the drive back to the hotel. We didn’t rush, we didn’t need to. I am hers and she is mine. Mine. We had all night, we had the rest of our lives, to make love, we didn’t need to rush. A man who’s never been married can never know what that’s like. I wasn’t married to Jeanette yet, but we both still knew. We knew that comfort that comes when you know that the person you are with is not only the person you’re going to spend the night with but the person you’ll spend forever with. You let go of a lot of the stupid stuff, the jealousies, the insecurities, to really let someone in. We had been comfortable with each other like this all day, like two halves of something whole, complete when they’re together, both feeling empty when they’re apart.

I kissed her neck when she opened the door to number seven. My arms full, from the few things we had picked up today. I could have juggled a few things and pulled her to me and kissed her, but I liked this, just being close to her. Our bodies just touching as I stood behind her, my lips against the skin of her neck nuzzling her hair out of the way, as she opened the door for me.

It’s different when you plan for something happening, rather than being swept away with it. “Get undressed, beautiful.” We debated playfully over who would get to go first, as she rummaged through shopping bags, finding the sandalwood and jasmine candles and lighting them, setting them beside the bed and turning off the lights.

“You get undressed. You first.” She giggles as she watches me, her eyes sparking with mischief in the candlelit room. “If I let you give me a massage first we’ll never get around to you getting one.”

“And that’s such a bad thing?” I stripped quickly, lying back against the headboard to watch her get undressed, her skin a pale translucent colour in the candlelight.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day, so yes, it would be. Roll over.” I stayed still to watch her, as she crawled towards me on the bed, probably one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen, making everything in me tense up, rolling over onto my belly only at the last moment. Even then I turned my head to watch her, resting my head on my crossed arms.

Her hand rests in the middle of my back as she gets comfortable, her curls resting against my rear, her thighs on the outside of mine. “You have a beautiful back, Sean. I never really realized just how big you are.”

Her voice is innocent, her hands splaying across the width of my back. Her playfulness is rubbing off on me as I move to turn over. “I’ll show you big, ‘Nette.” We’re both laughing, as her weight presses into my back. There’s no way she could ever stop me if I really wanted to flip her over but I like playing with her. She nips my shoulder, giggling, before sitting back where she was before, astride my back.

The air fills with the subtle scent of dark chocolate, mixing with the warm sex smell from the candles. It’s a strange thing, to thank Stacy quietly in my heart, the candles were her favourite as well. A thin stream, strangely warm, against my upper back. First one hand, then the other, make small circles through the massage oil. Her hands gliding over the skin of my shoulders, gentle circles first, until my whole back feels hot. I had expected no more than a rubdown, playing at best, so I was unprepared when her weight shifted, her small hands moving to knots in my shoulders I didn’t even know I had.

She leans in to nip my shoulder again, her laugh deeper than before. “Aren’t you glad I insisted you go first?” Her breasts rest on my oiled back for a moment before she shifts again. Not to sit back up, but pressing her chest and belly to me, her whole body massaging mine. I have no answer to her question but a moan. Her hands worked over my neck and shoulders. I would have thought she would have had to use two hands to work the knots out, but she didn’t. Just pressed deeply with her whole body, using her weight to her advantage.

I was hard already, watching her crawl up to me on the bed. The idea of her half slicked with oil from my back has me hard enough to hurt. I’m torn between wanting her to stop, just flipping her over and driving hard into her, and wanting her, begging her if I have to, to keep touching me. Her hands moved over everything. Her whole body lying on mine to massage my arms. Rather than sit up to work on the rest of my back, Jeanette slid down my body, nestling between my thighs.

I stopped her at the backs of my knees, too ticklish to keep going, no matter how good it felt. “You missed a spot, ‘Nette.” Grinning up at her I turned over, so she could do my front. Her skin glowed translucent in the candlelight, her body glistened with a thin sheen of oil from where she had massaged my back using her whole body. She traveled the same path in reverse, her hands massaging my thighs. Her fingertips skated over the inside curve of my hips as she straddled me, touching me everywhere but where I wanted her to. Where I needed her to. “‘Nette…” I might have been begging by this point but I doubt if I cared. I would have begged.

We both stayed completely still for a moment, our eyes taking us somewhere our bodies couldn’t follow. Her weight lifted off me slightly, not quite astride my waist. She shook her head, a small sexy grin on her lips, when my hands shifted to her hips. I wanted her now. “Hands behind your head Sean, and let me finish.”

She stayed deliberately still, her hands resting against my belly until I had done as she had asked. Where she had worked out the knots in my back, this was different, a lingering caress. Her hands, lightly oiled and warm, skated over every muscle and dip, tracing lines with her hands. Working over my chest, her body lowering to mine.

I had thought watching her crawl across the bed was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. I was wrong. Her nipples brushed my chest, as she lowered herself, every muscle in her body held tense as she leaned across me. The warm oil slicked over my nipple, her tongue following after, an electric heat that has my back arching under her touch. “Enough, ‘Nette. Your turn.”

She giggles, a sexy deep laugh, when I flip her onto her back. The sight of her pulls a deep groan from me, her hair flung out on the pillow behind her. I had to close my eyes and drop my head, breathing deeply to try to get some control over myself. If she had moved even once, or made a single sound, I would have been lost in her.

Maybe this started out as play but it became something else at some point. At every touch, my feelings for her were reaffirmed, celebrated. “Put your hands behind your head, beautiful Jeanette.” I had held her arms when I flipped her over; I let her up now, my fingertips tracing, tickling and caressing, over her inner arm as she rested her head heavily into her hands. Her elbows flung out, surrendering beneath me.

I swallowed hard, frozen for a moment, my eyes traveling the length of her body. “I love you Jeanette.” I lowered my head, whispering the words into her skin, overwhelmed momentarily at the sight of her, of how deeply I wanted her. She waited until I could look up again, mouthing the words “I love you, Sean.”

The scent of chocolate intensified in the room, when I poured a little between her breasts, my hands moving through the small pool. The feel of it against her skin is incredible, light and warm and drier than it should be, like wet silk. Candlelight dances off her skin, seeming to move, when my hands stroke over her body, the underside of her breasts, the valley between, her belly. She’s far more ticklish than I am and it’s harder for her to stay still, her back arching at every touch.

Groaning, I lift my hips off her, the momentary loss of contact with her skin nearly painful. “Turn over, ‘Nette.” She turns over gracefully, settling between my thighs as I crouch over her, waiting for her to get comfortable again. Her head rests on her crossed arms again, looking over her shoulder at me. Was I even breathing? How could I possibly be breathing when my chest felt this tight.

I straddled her hips again, my erection nestled firmly against the cleft of her rear. “…fuck…” A mutter under my breath at the feel of her, making me ache. My hands trace along her spine, resting at the curve of her neck, caressing her shoulders and back. She’s nearly purring with contentment beneath me, a sound I want her to stop, and never stop, at the same time. A quiet giggle, as I caress the curve of her lower back. She’s ticklish, so sensitive it makes her back arch, her hips following, only an inch or so, if that. The frictionless glide along the cleft of her rear is nearly enough to make me come. I think this playful massage has officially come to an end.

The scent of chocolate again, this time a trickle at her tailbone, pooling in the tiny space there, between my erection and the cleft of her rear. The slick warm ease of it finding it’s way between us, running along the cleft, along my length, until there is no friction between us at all. “‘Nette?…” It seemed to take forever for her eyes to open, to watch me over her shoulder. She said nothing, just smiled at me, her hips shifting against me again, higher this time. Acceptance.

We were both pretty drunk when I did this last night and I know she was a little sore this morning. I make a point of being more gentle with her, biting my lip to ignore how much this is turning me on, so I won’t rush. It’s not just touching her this way, it’s that she would let me, that she would trust me so completely.

I shift my weight to kneel between her thighs and she shifts to accommodate me, raising her hips a little. She tenses for a moment when my fingertips, tracing the cleft of her now oil slicked rear, brush against the sensitive skin of her anus. She relaxes again, my fingers circling gently, pressing lightly. We’re both nearly panting, when I slide first one, then two fingers just within her, the massage oil making it a lot easier. She gasps, her eyelashes fluttering closed, at the intrusion, making me stop in case I’ve hurt her.

“‘Nette? Do you want me to sto..” I stay still at her soft growl, her eyes open, watching me again, intense and lust filled. She shifts again, not to move away or make me stop, but to raise her hips a little higher, into a half crouch. Offering herself fully to me. I lean over her to nip at her shoulder, tasting chocolate, before kissing her lips softly.

I sit back, to trickle more oil over my hands. A flicker of guilt. If I had waited to do this today, instead of rushing last night, she might not have been sore this morning. Then again, if I hadn’t have been drunk I doubt I would have done it at all. One finger, then two, stroking deep within her, to the knuckle and back.

I was so turned on last night I could hardly watch her. Still resting against her hands, now clenched into fists beneath her, her eyelashes flutter closed, her lips parted as she pants against the wadded bedsheets. She comes quickly, forcefully, her low growl turning to a short sharp scream muffled as she bites down on the sheets.

I can’t watch anymore. There’s nothing to muffle my roar as I slip into her inviting wetness, all thought of play forgotten. Easing my fingers out of her rear I lean over her back, pinning her beneath me, oiled skin against oiled skin. Still for only a moment before we both lose whatever measure of control we had. My elbow rests beside her, keeping her from biting the sheets. Her animal cries echo in the small room, as she comes again. Our frictionless bodies quickly slick with sweat, the oil warming between us. Every nerve ending jangling where we touch.

She pushes back against me, using the headboard for leverage, her back arching to offer more of herself. I’m nearly driven mindless by the sound of her beneath me, my hips bucking hard into her. I screamed for her to come with me, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I was lost in her, lost in her cries, lost in the deep clenching of her around me, lost in the scent of her, lost as I came so hard it was almost painful.

Lost in her. There is nothing else in my world, nothing else that matters. My body ached for her the moment I withdrew, turning her and pulling her hard to me, our arms and legs tangled as we sought to get closer to each other. Our kisses were gentle but only because we couldn’t breathe, panting hard as we lay wrapped around each other. Unable to speak, we continued the unspoken conversations we’d been having all day. We said I love you in every silent way we could, until we had the breath to speak again, the words whispered in the air between us.

We lay still, our bodies cooling. I would gladly have fallen asleep with her in my arms, but we’re a mess, more so than usual. She squirms in my arms, before laughing softly. I can feel her blush against my shoulder, her body shaking slightly as she laughs. She has me laughing with her and I don’t even know why. “‘Nette?”

“Oil….” It’s all she can get out before laughing again, and it dawns on me why she’s squirming.

“Too much, huh.” We’re both giggling like a pair of kids and I just barely manage to bury my face against her neck before I laugh out loud. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, ‘Nette….” This whole day has been too strange already. “I’m sorry, do you want me to grab you a cloth first?” I fight to keep a straight face.

She shakes her head, still laughing, as she moves to get up. I walk behind her when she pads into the bathroom, so that she won’t slip on the tile floor. Definitely too much oil. We shower quickly, holding on to each other. Partly to keep from falling as the bathtub bottom slicks with the oil washing off of, and out of us, and partly because we’re still laughing pretty hard about it.

There’s not much we can do about the bedspread, but the sheets underneath are pretty much free from the choclatey massage oil. With the candles blown out, the scent of chocolate fills the room. We curl up against each other, laughing softly until we fall asleep. Her voice is soft and sleepy before I drift off.

“Goodnight, Mr Vetter.”

copyright © 2006 xxxevilgrinxxx

next…