got me running girl as fast as i can
and is it right, butterfly,
they like you better framed and dried
(Butterfly, Tori Amos)
It has been 12 minutes since they went radio silent, and things have gone from bad to worse to horrible in about half that time.
"C'mon, Julia, for old times' sake," Simon's voice is eager and his breath is hot against her ear as she feels his hands slip under the bustier she is wearing.
"Simon!" she snaps, shoving him roughly away, her hands on his shoulders, "Business first."
As if to prove her equal eagerness, she pulls his face to hers with a hand on the back of his head, and lets her tongue tangle with his, tasting the wine and cigarettes that touched it last. "We can't be all play and no work, now, can we?" She smiles slowly and places her pointer finger against his lips.
He looks indiscreetly at her bosom peeking out of the tight top that Ops Wardrobe gave her, and says, "You always were a tease."
Inside she freezes when she hears his words, but she lets herself keeps smiling at him, slow and naughty like she has new tricks to show him since the last time they did this dance. Not that she has any recollection of ever doing the dance with him.
He sighs deeply and turns away from her where she's sitting on the large wooden table, and she notices how low his faded black jeans ride on his hips. It's not that he's bad looking—on the contrary, Simon strikes her as the kind of man who would move girls to hop on his motorcycle and take a ride without worrying where they might end up—but she's freaking that he seems to have a history with her-as-Julia that she has no memory of.
"My contact is due any minute," he explains, "Then we'll have the specs for the job and can get to work." By the way he emphasizes the last word she knows the last thing in the world he wants to do is work.
"Your contact is coming here?" she is slightly confused. She thought he already had the outline for the job she's been recruited for.
"Yeah, he's super secretive, says we can only meet in person, all that covert bollocks," Simon is shaking his head, "I've never dealt with him before. Says he's only recently gotten back into the business, whatever that means."
The glacier inside her melts instantly, and turns instead to a boiling pit of acid somewhere in her midsection. Only recently? Please, God, let it be anyone else besides…
Walker's cell phone bleats from his jacket pocket, and he looks at her hungrily as he flips it open and barks, "Yeah?"
He murmurs into the slim silver device, his cheek illuminated by its display, for several seconds before hanging up. "That's him just now," he tells her, "Shouldn't be more than a few minutes."
"Great," she says, not meaning it one bit.
"So, love," Walker saunters back over to her, moving in what might be considered a seductive swagger, "Where've you been hiding out these past few months—I've missed you, you know."
She slides her hands under his leather jacket, over his chest and down his sides, buying a little time. "None of your business," she leans forward and nips the side of his neck. "I told you—a girl's gotta have some secrets."
"Mmm-mmmmm," is all Walker says, as he pulls her body close to him and caresses her bottom through her tight jeans. His hands are more than a little firm, and he moves like he knows what she likes. He is too self-assured for her comfort. He is squeezing her too hard, even for her liking. Just then she is saved by a knock at the door. He pulls back from her with a pout, but goes to the heavy wood door just the same.
"Who is it," he calls, as precaution, and her insides turn to jelly when she hears the silky smooth voice announcing his name through the door.
My life's in danger, isn't it?