Title: Dangerous Things
Author: Kate Anderson
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
*
The water ran lukewarm and without a lot of pressure. Jack made a small noise of displeasure and fiddled with the shower head, hoping to coax a higher stream from it. The shower head spluttered a few times before coughing out pounding jets of water. Unfortunately, deep tissue bruising wasn't what Jack was aiming for in his morning shower.
The shower curtain ruffled in the breeze created by the jets of water. Pink and purple puffing out, swaying. Jack braved the water and turned the small knob back to the pathetic drip. A vast array of small bottles greeted Jack when he reached for the shampoo. Volumizing. Curl defining. Sleek and smooth. Typical, Jack thought and reached for the one that promised a noticeable increase in his hair's volume.
His hair didn't feel any different than it did when he used cheap, generic brand shampoo. Jack ran his hands over the wet strands and wondered why anyone would put out ten bucks a bottle. As he lowered his hands, the tips of his fingers brushed against the rough stubble on his cheeks. He needed to shave. A small pink razor sat beside a flowery purple can, tucked away into a corner of the tub.
The shave gel for women promised him silky smooth, utterly touchable skin. The razor had a lubricating strip that was an alarming green colour. Jack hesitated for a moment before shaking the can and spraying a lump of raspberry scented foam into his hand. It was rather nice, Jack thought as he dabbed it on his face and began scraping away with the razor.
Shampooed, shaved and soaped, Jack turned off the water and stepped out onto the fluffy mat. That was something he loved about women; all the plush fluffiness that came with them. He grabbed the towel from the closed lid of the toilet and began drying himself off. His reflection in the condensation streaked mirror taunted him.
What are you doing, Jack?
With the towel thrown into what he considered a tidy ball on the floor, Jack wiped the mirror with the palm of his hand. Tired eyes looked back. He blinked a few times and then sighed. His mouth felt gummy and he eyed her toothbrush. No, he shouldn't. It was too much. He'd already used her razor. He slid the mirror aside and peered into the medicine cabinet, hoping to find an extra toothbrush. Soaps shaped like small animals, a bottle of bath salts and bath beads, tampons, Tylenol but no extra toothbrush. Jack settled for squeezing toothpaste onto his finger and rubbing it around his mouth. At least it got rid of that gummy feeling.
Soft footsteps padded up to the door, paused and then continued. Jack tried to contain the queasiness of his stomach. The eyes in the mirror blinked again. The robe that he had worn, though that was debatable as it barely covered his chest, into the bathroom was hanging on the door. Fluffy and pink with tiny sheep. Jack draped it over his shoulders and tried to pull it closed.
The floor outside the bathroom creaked as he put his foot down. She must know where to step so that it didn't creak. Jack winced at the sound and cautiously headed toward the bedroom. The door was partly closed, radio playing softly. He put his head to the crack, watching her naked back move about the room.
Oh God, this was wrong.
"You can come in, you know."
Jack jumped, bumping his nose on the doorframe. He pushed open the door with one hand, rubbing his face with the other. She turned around, not shy at all. Jack let his gaze travel over her body, self consciously pulling the robe tighter to his own body.
"I found your shirt," she said, holding it up almost triumphantly. "And your pants."
"G-great," Jack stammered, wondering if she was having difficulty finding her own clothes. Her breasts bounced cheerfully as she threw the articles of clothing in his direction.
"You okay?"
"Never been better!" Jack announced. Certainly this was true.
She looked his crotch with an interested eye. "So I see."
Jack grabbed the sheep covered material and tugged. This robe most definitely wasn't made for a man. "Samantha, I..."
"You?"
"I used your razor!" he blurted out, catching a whiff of raspberry.
Samantha grinned. "Call me Sam." She sat down on the bed and pulled open the drawer on her nightstand. "Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked, pulling out a small red packet.
Mind? Did he mind? Some men would pay to see this sort of thing. "Go ahead," Jack replied. She held the cigarette between her slender fingers and raised it to her lips. "In fact," he said, reaching for the discarded packet. "I might join you!"
Samantha lit the cigarette and took a long drag before passing the lighter to Jack. He lit his cigarette and immediately began coughing. Samantha chuckled and Jack congratulated himself on being so suave. The smoke from the cigarettes seemed to curl around her body, between her breasts, around the curve of her waist.
A silent few minutes passed. Samantha finished her cigarette and flicked the butt out the window. Jack stood up and followed suit. A few pigeons cooed over the newly arrived butts. "I should leave," Jack said. "My wife is probably wondering where I am."
"I'm sure she is." Samantha replied. "What's her name?"
"Maria."
"Pretty name."
Jack threw the sheep robe off, tossing it onto the bed. His underwear was nowhere in sight - it had probably ended up out the window and some pigeon was nesting in it. "I'll see you later," Jack said. He zipped up his pants and buttoned a few buttons on his shirt.
Samantha smiled, leaning against the wall. "Later."
Jack stepped forward and pressed his mouth to hers. His already sore nose hit hers and he winced. Samantha appeared to take no notice and took the initiative to deepen the kiss. Jack remembered why he'd hired her.
"Bye," she whispered, after they'd broken apart. Her voice was deep and throaty.
"Bye." Jack whispered back, his voice coming out sounding less than sexy. More like something you'd hear at a construction site.
*
"Where were you?" Maria chopped a carrot in half and Jack gulped.
"At the office," he replied. "There was a case, needed to find someone. Samantha needed help." Maria's knife came down upon the hapless carrot again.
"Who's Samantha?"
Oh, blonde. Brown eyed. Looks like a million bucks naked.
"She's a colleague."
Maria tossed the carrot sticks into small plastic baggies. "You could have at least phoned." The plastic baggies were tossed into brown paper bags.
"I was really busy."
Jack shifted uncomfortably under Maria's scrutinizing gaze. Could she tell that his hair had more volume? Could she smell the raspberry shave gel?
"I can't deal with this right now, Jack." Maria said. Her brow was wrinkled and Jack knew she was really upset. "I have to get the girls to school."
"I'm sorry." Jack offered. "I'll call next time." He stepped across the kitchen and positioned himself between his wife and the knife.
"There shouldn't be a next time."
"It's what I do. I love my job, Maria."
Maria threw the paper bags into backpacks and zipped them up with such force that Jack was certain the zippers were going to detach themselves and launch across the room. "That's obvious," she muttered angrily. "You care more about your precious unit than you do about me."
Jack opened his mouth to protest but Maria had stalked off, leaving the small backpacks begging for mercy.
FIN
Author: Kate Anderson
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
*
The water ran lukewarm and without a lot of pressure. Jack made a small noise of displeasure and fiddled with the shower head, hoping to coax a higher stream from it. The shower head spluttered a few times before coughing out pounding jets of water. Unfortunately, deep tissue bruising wasn't what Jack was aiming for in his morning shower.
The shower curtain ruffled in the breeze created by the jets of water. Pink and purple puffing out, swaying. Jack braved the water and turned the small knob back to the pathetic drip. A vast array of small bottles greeted Jack when he reached for the shampoo. Volumizing. Curl defining. Sleek and smooth. Typical, Jack thought and reached for the one that promised a noticeable increase in his hair's volume.
His hair didn't feel any different than it did when he used cheap, generic brand shampoo. Jack ran his hands over the wet strands and wondered why anyone would put out ten bucks a bottle. As he lowered his hands, the tips of his fingers brushed against the rough stubble on his cheeks. He needed to shave. A small pink razor sat beside a flowery purple can, tucked away into a corner of the tub.
The shave gel for women promised him silky smooth, utterly touchable skin. The razor had a lubricating strip that was an alarming green colour. Jack hesitated for a moment before shaking the can and spraying a lump of raspberry scented foam into his hand. It was rather nice, Jack thought as he dabbed it on his face and began scraping away with the razor.
Shampooed, shaved and soaped, Jack turned off the water and stepped out onto the fluffy mat. That was something he loved about women; all the plush fluffiness that came with them. He grabbed the towel from the closed lid of the toilet and began drying himself off. His reflection in the condensation streaked mirror taunted him.
What are you doing, Jack?
With the towel thrown into what he considered a tidy ball on the floor, Jack wiped the mirror with the palm of his hand. Tired eyes looked back. He blinked a few times and then sighed. His mouth felt gummy and he eyed her toothbrush. No, he shouldn't. It was too much. He'd already used her razor. He slid the mirror aside and peered into the medicine cabinet, hoping to find an extra toothbrush. Soaps shaped like small animals, a bottle of bath salts and bath beads, tampons, Tylenol but no extra toothbrush. Jack settled for squeezing toothpaste onto his finger and rubbing it around his mouth. At least it got rid of that gummy feeling.
Soft footsteps padded up to the door, paused and then continued. Jack tried to contain the queasiness of his stomach. The eyes in the mirror blinked again. The robe that he had worn, though that was debatable as it barely covered his chest, into the bathroom was hanging on the door. Fluffy and pink with tiny sheep. Jack draped it over his shoulders and tried to pull it closed.
The floor outside the bathroom creaked as he put his foot down. She must know where to step so that it didn't creak. Jack winced at the sound and cautiously headed toward the bedroom. The door was partly closed, radio playing softly. He put his head to the crack, watching her naked back move about the room.
Oh God, this was wrong.
"You can come in, you know."
Jack jumped, bumping his nose on the doorframe. He pushed open the door with one hand, rubbing his face with the other. She turned around, not shy at all. Jack let his gaze travel over her body, self consciously pulling the robe tighter to his own body.
"I found your shirt," she said, holding it up almost triumphantly. "And your pants."
"G-great," Jack stammered, wondering if she was having difficulty finding her own clothes. Her breasts bounced cheerfully as she threw the articles of clothing in his direction.
"You okay?"
"Never been better!" Jack announced. Certainly this was true.
She looked his crotch with an interested eye. "So I see."
Jack grabbed the sheep covered material and tugged. This robe most definitely wasn't made for a man. "Samantha, I..."
"You?"
"I used your razor!" he blurted out, catching a whiff of raspberry.
Samantha grinned. "Call me Sam." She sat down on the bed and pulled open the drawer on her nightstand. "Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked, pulling out a small red packet.
Mind? Did he mind? Some men would pay to see this sort of thing. "Go ahead," Jack replied. She held the cigarette between her slender fingers and raised it to her lips. "In fact," he said, reaching for the discarded packet. "I might join you!"
Samantha lit the cigarette and took a long drag before passing the lighter to Jack. He lit his cigarette and immediately began coughing. Samantha chuckled and Jack congratulated himself on being so suave. The smoke from the cigarettes seemed to curl around her body, between her breasts, around the curve of her waist.
A silent few minutes passed. Samantha finished her cigarette and flicked the butt out the window. Jack stood up and followed suit. A few pigeons cooed over the newly arrived butts. "I should leave," Jack said. "My wife is probably wondering where I am."
"I'm sure she is." Samantha replied. "What's her name?"
"Maria."
"Pretty name."
Jack threw the sheep robe off, tossing it onto the bed. His underwear was nowhere in sight - it had probably ended up out the window and some pigeon was nesting in it. "I'll see you later," Jack said. He zipped up his pants and buttoned a few buttons on his shirt.
Samantha smiled, leaning against the wall. "Later."
Jack stepped forward and pressed his mouth to hers. His already sore nose hit hers and he winced. Samantha appeared to take no notice and took the initiative to deepen the kiss. Jack remembered why he'd hired her.
"Bye," she whispered, after they'd broken apart. Her voice was deep and throaty.
"Bye." Jack whispered back, his voice coming out sounding less than sexy. More like something you'd hear at a construction site.
*
"Where were you?" Maria chopped a carrot in half and Jack gulped.
"At the office," he replied. "There was a case, needed to find someone. Samantha needed help." Maria's knife came down upon the hapless carrot again.
"Who's Samantha?"
Oh, blonde. Brown eyed. Looks like a million bucks naked.
"She's a colleague."
Maria tossed the carrot sticks into small plastic baggies. "You could have at least phoned." The plastic baggies were tossed into brown paper bags.
"I was really busy."
Jack shifted uncomfortably under Maria's scrutinizing gaze. Could she tell that his hair had more volume? Could she smell the raspberry shave gel?
"I can't deal with this right now, Jack." Maria said. Her brow was wrinkled and Jack knew she was really upset. "I have to get the girls to school."
"I'm sorry." Jack offered. "I'll call next time." He stepped across the kitchen and positioned himself between his wife and the knife.
"There shouldn't be a next time."
"It's what I do. I love my job, Maria."
Maria threw the paper bags into backpacks and zipped them up with such force that Jack was certain the zippers were going to detach themselves and launch across the room. "That's obvious," she muttered angrily. "You care more about your precious unit than you do about me."
Jack opened his mouth to protest but Maria had stalked off, leaving the small backpacks begging for mercy.
FIN