OLIVIA'S head lulled a bit to the left as her sleep-deprived, mangled body leaned towards the dust-stained, round window, searching for the most comfortable resting position.
Having hit her shoulder against the glass, Olivia felt an intense searing pain that ripped through the very fibre of her being and she suddenly jerked upwards.
Her right hand instinctively went for her faithful confidante, black cane, in an attempt to steady herself.
Peter was sitting in a brown leather sofa opposite her and she was well aware his concerned eyes noticed her movement.
He was now openly scanning her with his sympathetic gaze but he knew better than to comment on anything, Olivia concluded with relief.
Olivia thought about how alert Peter looked, dishevelled and restless, and wondered if he managed to get any sleep at all since they left Boston airport. For this particular trip, he had chosen to wear dark blue jeans and white carelessly buttoned rumpled white shirt. Over the shirt, an elegant yet poorly ironed black short coat was hastily thrown. Worry was mirrored on his facial features and there were huge purple bags under his eyes.
She thought he must have noticed her scrutiny, since the next word he uttered was a tired: "What?" and it contained all the complex questions he had ever wanted to ask her, Olivia thought.
"You should get some sleep", Olivia merely stated the fact. "There are still at least three hours to go. We left Boston around 14:00 PM and we will be arriving to Baghdad at around 4:00 AM Boston time, which is…"
"21:00 PM Baghdad local time, I know. It's seven hours ahead of Boston. We're in for some jet lag but hey, who am I to complain?", Peter stretched a bit. "We actually gain some time. Believe it or not, I am not sleepy at all. Even though it's one o' clock in the morning back at home. Must be the after effects of sharing a bedroom with Walter. I am used to being awake through the night".
His left hand reached behind to scratch his nape yet a stifled yawn betrayed him and Olivia lifted one eyebrow quizzically in the air as if to prove her point.
His disarming boyish chuckle told her Peter was also having fun at his own expense.
"I guess I am busted," he replied in a soft, pleasant voice.
"Astrid told me you guys are looking to lease a new place", Olivia inquired, remembering what the curly haired lab assistant said the other day. "How is that going? Soon, you will have more space."
"Not so good. Walter has been able to find something negative about every single apartment or house that I have suggested. I am starting to believe he is doing it on purpose. I'll deal with him when we get back. On another topic, Dunham, did I hear you wrongly or you just said we shall be landing in around three hours?"
Olivia spared a glance at her sleak tiny black mobile phone.
"That's about right", she nodded, amused and intrigued to see where the conversation was heading. One never knew with Peter Bishop. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, it's nothing", Peter waved it off with an arm gesture. "It's just that…Whenever I would fly from Boston to Baghdad in the past, it would take me at least twenty seven hours and I would usually have to suffer through two stops and long airport lounge waits".
"You will find that the time is pretty much halved by now", Olivia joined his flight rant.
"So I see. It must come in handy, having a private air transportation at your beck and call."
"And you get to enjoy the luxury as well", she highlighted the bonus feature for him, emboldened by a childish enthusiasm her partner was displaying.
"To tell you the truth, I didn't expect that at all", Peter smirked. "When I enumerated all those requirements to Broyles I felt…You know…Kinda important. I had no idea he was gonna fall for it all", he shook his head lightly in an incredulous manner.
"So that was what? You were bluffing?", it was Olivia's turn to show disbelief.
"I wouldn't really call it bluffing", he gave her one of his widest smiles yet and Olivia couldn't help but grin back. "Just…Testing the uncharted waters, for instance."
"Did Broyles really give you twenty thousand dollars in cash and a passport without your real name?", Olivia's curiosity got the best of her as she leaned towards him, eager to hear the entire story.
She thought how Peter always had some kind of con-man story up his sleeve, as if his life was full of exciting events. Her mind went back to the day when they met and how he skilfully spiced up the story about Big Eddie and she beamed without having realized it.
"I suppose that the flight is long, so there is nothing left for me to do but to amuse the lady", Peter smirked. "And, to answer your previous question, yes, he did. I myself didn't believe my luck. It was quite a con and I didn't need any of those things, actually. But look at it this way: we can actually use half of the money to bribe my Baghdad 'weird connection' if the need be. The other half can be spent on drinking and sightseeing. Of course, it goes without saying that the shiny new passport I got will most certainly come in handy in the future."
"Peter", Olivia rolled her eyes exasperatedly.
"I am just joking, Dunham. Trying to diffuse the tension and all that. After all, why do you think Broyles sent you to accompany me? You are the voice of reason in this whole story. Not to mention you're the one that carries the gun. You will protect me of any harm that comes my way."
Olivia chuckled. "Well, seeing how I am about to don a hijab just after we land and transform myself into a non-threatening, docile female figure, that isn't even allowed to enter many of the establishments, I am not sure if I am going to be of that much help to you."
Peter reassured her in one swift sentence. "That's the part of the ploy, Olivia: do what they least expect you to." He gave it a bit more thought or so it seemed, and added: "After all, that's how you expertly conned me, as you probably recall", following his statement with a wink.
A peculiar blend of emotions stirred inside of her as memories from year ago invaded her, feelings that she had long thought forgotten emerging to greet Olivia as old friends. Yet there was no bitterness and pain in them anymore and she took comfort in that.
"By the way, Peter", her trembling hand landed on his and an unexpected jolt of energy shook them both, to what Peter's eyes opened even wider as he was drinking in her words. "Thank you for supporting me in front of Broyles. If you hadn't done so, perhaps he wouldn't have even sent me to…"
His face went soft.
"Hey…Olivia. I didn't really do anything. If you recall, he just said that I needed to be accompanied by a federal agent and nothing more."
"Peter…You looked towards my direction. I saw you do so. This is why he even took me into the account and he posteriorly said 'I am reluctant to send you, Agent Dunham and we need to keep this trip between us.' I mean, it's obvious that Broyles still doesn't trust me", she swallowed. "And you know what? I would have been furious with him but I have to admit that I don't even trust myself anymore."
Olivia could see a tiny swallow travel from Peter's unshaven chin and down to his Adam's apple. He first seemed to glance downwards as if in an attempt to steady himself; then his eyes shot up to meet hers.
Everything seemed to come to a standstill as she felt herself floating at the surface of the calm greenish blue lake that somehow always managed to be her anchor.
"Look, 'Livia", he used the endearment term and she found out she didn't even mind it much. "Don't be angry with yourself. Or disappointed with yourself. Just know one thing: these things take time. Everything that happened to you when you were there, in…Redverse", he chuckled at the usage of the word, "it will slowly come to you. Walter says so and I trust him. I mean you know that I am usually the last one to sign up for these things yet during the past year, I have seen many inexplicable occurrences I was forced to believe in. And my father was somehow in the midst of it all. He saved countless lives, even as a half of the man he was so I guess…What I am trying to say… and it might seem crazy to you, but I have faith in Walter."
"So do I," she nodded, reassured.
"Don't be impatient. There is no need for that. Your body is already healing. Soon, it will be your mind's turn. I am certain of it."
Olivia shook her head affirmatively and the gratitude for his support mirrored in her eyes. She knew that Peter would understand she meant to thank him. When it came to the two of them, non-verbal communication always played a more significant part than the verbal one.
Words were even unnecessary, so much have their minds have gotten into sync during merely one year. It simultaneously thrilled Olivia and frightened her.
Deep inside she was incredibly thankful that she had found a person to trust and confide in, somebody to lean on so fast after John's death. Literally on the very same day.
She blushed recalling the way she manipulated Peter into staying and forming part of the Fringe division.
Olivia often wondered whether she had the right to turn his world upside down in the way she did. Yank a misfit as he was from his nomadic existence, force him to settle down.
Those were the cyclic, fleeting periods during which she felt guilty but they would then be repressed and hidden by some other thoughts and that would be that.
And Peter was good at being her shadow, reading her. After her car accident, their relationship had fallen into a steady partnership where they both counted one on another for safety and protection.
Even though she would never admit it to younger Bishop, Olivia was glad he was there for her. And all the time giving her space, allowing her to be herself.
She had tamed a ferocious bloodthirsty tiger, a solitary jungle prowler and made him into a harmless kitten who would purr and show his belly to her whenever she requested him to.
But now they were coming back to the jungle, they were returning to where it all began and the changes Olivia could see on Peter's face unnerved her.
His softness and roundness were replaced by sharp and gritty angles and there was now a hostile glare in his eyes as they were flying over the territory or Iraq, entering deeper and deeper into his past.
Peter was transforming in front of her own eyes by seconds, into a con artist and a dangerous man whom you wouldn't wish to cross; for some reason, it made her pulse quicken, seeing him like that, dark and brooding, mulling over some past trauma.
Thoughts that were buzzing around her head flew out of her mouth like a swarm of bees and entered Peter's ear canal.
"How does it feel to be back? You know, I am certain it is all a little weird for you, seeing the circumstances of your departure last time when you were scared."
"Well, let me put it this way: I definitely wasn't lying to Broyles when I said I still was on couple of watch lists. I did con a lot of people and manipulated them into doing personal favours for me", Peter's pupils started darting left and right in an obvious distress and Olivia realized he was incredibly uncomfortable. "And no... To answer your question... I am not proud of what I did."
"A bomb that went off a year ago in Kirkuk..." Olivia said with a hint of fear.
"I know that you were joking way back when, telling me I just might owed you a thank you, but there is a high probability you were right. It was meant for me", Peter frowned and the creases on his forehead spoke volumes of his anxiety. His palm reached for Olivia's once again and there was sincere fright in his eyes when he spoke.
"Once we land, we have to be careful, Olivia. The last time I was here alone, it was different. I only had to look out for myself. Now you are with me and I...I guess what I am trying to say is that I don't want anything to happen to you while we are here, especially not because of me."
Those words irked her more than they should have.
"Peter. I am the one with the gun, like you said. I am supposed to protect you and not the other way around. I am not some... Damsel in distress", she ended the short tirade with an attempt of joke but Olivia could clearly see Peter wasn't amused at all. He seemed offended and hurt by her remark and she hastened to soften her statement.
"Listen, Peter. I have been very grateful to you for everything that you did for me ever since the accident. I appreciate your help and dedication. But I need to do this on my own. And the only way to do it is through work. Thanks to you and your idea related to shapeshifter technology, Fringe division wasn't shut down. I still have my job. The only thing that makes sense to me in the chaos around me and inside me. But I have to feel like I can handle this. You..." her voice became tender. "You have to understand that, Peter. I need you to try and treat me like you did before the accident. Whenever I glance your way and you think I am not looking, I can see it. The worry in your eyes, the pity. And frankly, I don't like it at all. You insist on carrying my stuff, helping me, opening doors for me and I..."
Peter raised his left palm and then rubbed his temples.
"That's enough of that, Agent Dunham. Point taken", he muttered acidly. "As I told you before, you are no good at letting people help you. And you're incurably, incredibly stubborn when you wish to have your way. It's not only that you feel great doing things on your own right now, because of your accident. You have always been like that, Olivia. It's your personality. I can only hope that one day you will realize we are a team.", he closed his eyes as if indicating that he was going to try to get some sleep and seemingly there was nothing more to be said.
Olivia pursed her lips wondering how was it that Peter managed to get the upper hand in every single of their conversations and make her feel guilty.
Yet, no matter what he would say, she knew eventually Peter would do what she wanted. He always did. And after all, wasn't that what counted more? Actions, not words?
When their private jet finally landed to Baghdad, Peter was the first one to leave it, practically storming out of its interior and without looking behind to even check whether Olivia followed.
She did indeed, yet she did so at a slower pace, clutching the black cane and wincing every now and then, angry with her own body's impotence.
Outside, on the runway, nothing indicated that they have replaced Boston with a different town, except the darkness.
Olivia knew the surreptitious changes will creep upon them later, in the unequivocal characteristic landscape, peculiar architecture, exotic language and different dressing style. A mixture of all new colours, sounds and smells forming a particular hue that was Iraqi personal synaesthesia.
Peter's tension hadn't abated and she thought for the moment, amused, how it was interesting that she, who had never been a local to Baghdad, felt more comfortable than him, who looked exactly like a fish out of water. He was now talking to the driver of the black SUV in a friendly manner.
When Olivia approached them both, the driver saluted her with respect and opened the door for her to enter the vehicle. She let out a small "hrrrmpf" to show her discontent, only to meet Peter's mocking gaze that practically dared her to say something.
She could literally see the words cross his lips even though he never pronounced them: "Sweetheart, now it wasn't me who opened the door for you, you cannot begrudge me anything at all.", and wished to be able to wipe that self-satisfied smirk from his face.
During the first two minutes of the ride or so, Peter was uncharacteristically quiet as he stared through the window and she wondered whether he was still angry with her because of the plane remark.
His face was periodically illuminated by the night street lamps, and then it would occasionally remain in the shadow. Olivia thought that such duality was indeed appropriate for Peter: light and dark, sharp and soft, talkative and quiet, it was hard to peg him down for a certain type of personality. He was at least two men in one, if not more.
Soon, however, he turned towards her and smiled smugly, as if he sensed Olivia watching him. It was her turn to blush and be pissed at herself for being caught.
Instead of commenting on the sneak peek she took at him even though he seemed incredibly pleased with that discovery, Peter waved a paper in front of her face.
"Three guesses what's our hotel called? And the first two don't count."
"It's that obvious?" Olivia inquired with a small smile.
"Pretty much. Hey, listen to this: Baghdad hotel. 150 dollars per night per person. Amenities: swimming pool, gym and a spa. The hotel overlooks the Tigris River and it's located on its eastern bank."
"I don't know if we shall have much time to swim in the pool, though", Olivia chuckled. "Not that I could do it at this state", she frowned immediately after she smiled.
"Maybe you are still not feeling as well so as to hit the gym or to swim but relaxing time in a spa would definitely do you good", Peter teased her gently. "Joke aside, Broyles told me we shouldn't spend more than one night there if we wish to crack the case as fast as possible," he scratched his stubble pensively.
"You think we can find Malik Yusef, Abbas Khalaf or Howar Ziad in less than a day and make them talk about Tin Man project?", Olivia sounded sceptical.
"If I can get to Ahmed tonight... We might just be able to", a shadow of sadness flew across his face. "But we didn't exactly part as best friends. Suma sumarum: We were supposed to be a team and I turned his back on him and sold him out."
He looked so miserable and repentant at that moment, like a small boy who did something wrong. Olivia wished to get back on good terms with Peter again after the brusque plane debate they had so she thought of something supportive to say.
"I am sure if we approach him in the right way and, well, if you show that you are sorry for what you did... Who knows, Peter; maybe not only will we get the information but perhaps there will be a reconciliation between you two you can look forward to."
"I wish it was that simple, Olivia. But people are fragile and they don't forget easily. Once the trust is broken... It's hard to reassemble it. Still...let's hope for the best", he gave her his best trademark grin as the SUV was pulling in front of their hotels.
"Soo, Dunham. We got adjacent rooms on the ground floor. If you need anything, holler. Not that I would expect you to, but still," Peter winked at her as he was getting the keys from the receptionist and leading her towards their dormitories.
Acne riddled bellboy in a dark red uniform was clumsily running after them carrying their bags. They both packed lightly, Olivia noticed.
Though, probably for different reasons, she thought. Her, to efficaciously get to the town where the crime scene was without spending too much time of packing, and Peter, to escape such scene as fast as possible and disappear from the face of the Earth lest some crime gang or cops were looking for him.
They halted in front of their bedrooms and Peter faced her with an inquiry.
"So, how do you wanna do this? I know a restaurant Ahmed frequents and that place is our best bet to find him. Want to get some rest first and start out fresh in the morning or…We just do what we do best: head there straightaway and improvise?", Peter raised his eyebrows inquisitively.
Olivia had a feeling he already knew what she was going to answer and she was right; as soon as she replied "You know, I was thinking: let's just get it over with. After all, that's why we're here", he looked back at her with a knowing smile and then chuckled, shaking his head slightly.
"Good old Dunham. Never fails to deliver. Just give me a sec to enjoy the delight of my own huge private bathroom. Meanwhile you can don the hijab, right?", he teased her benevolently, and Olivia knew he was fully aware of her anger at female position in Islamic societies in general.
"Yep," she pursed her lips in a reply and nodded.
"So…See you back out here in ten minutes?", Peter inquired.
"It's a deal", she confirmed, entering her room and hearing the door to his room close as well.
The room was incredibly large and mostly exuded brown tones, starting from the beige soft carpet under her feet and a huge mirror to the wooden elements such as a coffee table and sofa. Bed looked enormous and incredibly comfortable and Olivia was pleased to spot the shower gel, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste and towels in the bathroom.
There was basically no need for her to unpack much yet.
If the lead went well she might even be able to get an hour or two of sleep that night before heading back to Boston.
After having pulled out Muslim traditional clothing and a headscarf from her hand luggage in the corner of her room, Olivia quickly changed into her new robes.
Then she went into the bathroom where she vigorously brushed her teeth and freshened up as fast as she could.
After having placed a light grey hijab on top of her head she looked at herself critically in that huge mirror.
"This will have to do," she sighed out loud. The clock on her mobile phone was showing 21: 35 PM and she smiled proudly having realized it only took her five minutes to complete all the preparations.
That was when it struck her, and it felt as if someone had been standing above her head with a giant axe, lowering it down with all his might and splitting her skull.
She had never experienced such as strong headache in her life.
It took everything Olivia had for her not to cry out as her teeth eagerly bit the knuckle on her right hand. It bled slightly but she didn't care as she swayed and with sheer force of will forced her body to fall on the bed instead of collapsing on the floor.
The pain stopped as suddenly as it was inflicted to her but she didn't dare move for almost an entire minute, taking deep breaths, drenched in cold sweat.
She could almost hear Peter's apprehensive voice in her head: "The headaches? Did the doctors say that would happen?" and remembered her elusive answer. It was for the best, Olivia thought. If he knew that she had had yet another episode she would be showered with his worrying glances and that was the last thing she wanted now. She needed to focus on the case.
Then she really heard Peter's voice, as if he were standing right next to her and Olivia quickly jerked upwards, sitting straight on the bed.
That was not all she heard: giggles from two children laughing in the room upstairs, the receptionist shouting at the bellboy for having dropped someone's suitcase and the repetitive sound of revolving doors at the hotel entrance as more and more guests were milling in haunted her mind.
Olivia tried to block out all of the other sources of sound and focus on Peter and Peter only. His voice was tinged in that familiar, simultaneously deep and soft tone as he occasionally cleared his throat.
He was talking on the phone, Olivia realized and she also became aware of the interlocutor pretty fast.
"I called you as soon as we got to the hotel, you can't complain, Walter. Did I wake you?", there was a hint of concern in his speech. Then he seemed to chuckle at what was obviously a negative response. "I knew you would still be up. No, I don't know when we are coming back. Yes, I will call again soon. Yes, I will eat and take care of myself. No, Agent Dunham and I are not sleeping in the same room. You may stop making plans for our wedding while you're at it. It's just a business trip and nothing else. Walter…", his tone became exasperated and amused at the same time. "We will look after each other. Funny, Broyles said the same thing", he concluded softly and bid goodbye to his father.
Olivia caught herself smiling to that unexpected exchange.
The content of that particular conversation was all that impeded her from going insane as she was trying to cope with her newfound ability of superhearing.
She never knew Walter was such a fan of their pairing and it entertained her. Olivia couldn't afford to give it much thought since it was already time to leave the room but judging by noise Peter was making, he still wasn't ready and she opted to remain sitting on the bed instead of making it straight to the hallway.
Olivia thought she heard him sigh and she smiled thinking how Walter must be driving him crazy with such suppositions as well.
Then the sighs repeated and her ears started burning when Olivia realized what was happening in the adjacent room. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Peter was in the room next to hers and he was…pleasuring himself.
Now? He is doing it now?, passed through Olivia's mind and she wondered whether she should just get up, go out into the hallway and knock on his door.
But that would just lead to another, even more awkward situation so she hoped that he would "finish" fast and come out on his own.
It was probably just a nuisance for him, after having been cooped up on a plane for so long and he needed to release his tension, she thought.
The timing was weird, that was for sure.
Olivia had no idea how would she go about talking to him after that. She felt like a thief who was invading someone's most intimate thoughts as Peter was satisfying his body's carnal demands.
The redness now transported to her cheeks and throat as Olivia swallowed couple of times.
His voice sounded so crystal clear as if he had been whispering directly into her ear even though he must have been around ten meters away from Olivia or even more.
Her pulse quickened and her heart started beating a bit faster as she realized she could literally hear his hand stroking the length of his throbbing member.
He was using his left hand, she thought and it seemed logical to her, after all, Peter was a leftie.
Olivia remembered having read in some magazine, long time ago, that when men play with themselves and when they are in a hurry, they just use their dominant hand to come faster; when they have more time, it said, they switch to the less dominant hand in order to experience a different feeling. Theoretically, for them, it was as if someone else was masturbating them.
The audio stimulants she was receiving so clearly formed an image in her mind; Peter was now becoming louder and Olivia could almost see him stroking his cock with a much tighter grip, moving up and down over his length incredibly fast, stretching his reddening skin until it folded over the spongy purple crown.
His breath was coming more deeply by then and she envisioned him thrusting upwards into his hand, his eyes glazed as the urges grew, as Peter turned the corner toward a very potent orgasm.
She picked up as sound of his balls slapping against his right palm and her breath caught in her chest as Olivia realized how hard her nipples had become as the small glistening pool of warmth gathered between her thighs.
Her stubborn palms grabbed the bedsheet. She was resolute not to touch herself, not like this, not now, not while he was…Doing that.
As his groans were becoming louder and louder, Olivia forgot how to breathe and she was now positively inhaling oxygen merely through her mouth in a series of tiny shallow breaths.
Yet, what left her dumbstruck was the precise moment when he tumbled over the edge and shattered, coming hard; it was because of the strain of words Peter muttered in such a haste, with such a desperation and endearment that it broke her a little from the inside.
"Olivia."
It began as a single whisper of her name and she almost couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe that he said it.
That he meant her.
Yet he did. And it was as if that word broke a dam somewhere deep inside him because it just went on and on, rising and falling.
Olivia felt as if she were riding a rollercoaster made up entirely out of syllables of her own namesake. "Oh God, 'Livia. Liv. Livvy…Livvy. If you would just…Livvy.", he kept saying the last endearment so lovingly, as if it belonged to him. Olivia felt strangely exposed, at the same time frightened and excited in front of the evidence of such reverence and tenderness in his voice.
He had never called her "Livvy" to her face in his life, she knew this; yet he was doing it now, with this imaginary version of her that existed only in his head, that he could call whatever he liked, do whatever he wished with her. Construct numerous situations in that ingeniuous brain of his and she wouldn't be able to have a say or walk away or get angry with him for protecting her, wanting her safe.
It made her feel wanted, cared for…Desired.
The same man who was just mocking Walter for pairing them up, sounded so obsessed with her name as he was reaching his peak.
Olivia thought it must have been hard for him, behaving like he didn't care at all on the outside, literally telling everyone there was nothing between them, and feeling such yearning on the inside, craving that was burning through him quicker than he could contain it.
She never knew Peter fantasized about her.
Guilt overcame Olivia for listening in on his most intimate moments, even though the whole thing didn't last more than five minutes in total.
She focused on the blame she felt rather than on her now completely wet panties and unpleasantly hard nipples.
Thankfully, the attire she had chosen wouldn't be a dead giveaway of her arousal.
The sounds altogether stopped and she could now clearly pick up Peter's ragged breathing that was slowly returning to its steady normalcy.
There was a sound of running water which was so booming in Olivia's ears that it felt as if Peter was washing his hands right next to her.
Then she heard him slam his head against the wall and whispering: "You idiot", before he left the bathroom and started unlocking his bedroom door.
That was Olivia's sign and she hastily jumped out of bed, grabbing her cane and hobbling as fast as she could towards her own door.
She found Peter standing in the hallway, looking smug.
There was no sign of previous openness or raw emotion she heard in his voice. Peter's face was unreadable for her now, as a book that suddenly snapped closed in front of her, hiding its content. Olivia opted for the interaction with his mask rather than with the man himself. It was just easier that way.
"Why the smirk?", she asked teasingly.
"Well, well. I beat the extremely punctual high and mighty agent Dunham. What's not to smirk about?", he wouldn't remove the silly grin of his face and it suited him in a way, she thought.
"A girl can be allowed to be fashionably late every now and then", Olivia allowed herself to be drawn into his back and forth snappy territory.
"Hey, by the way. Kudos for the style. You'll blend in perfectly", he sized her up and down with an approval but his eyes lingered on her mouth and her own eyes, Olivia noticed.
It must be because those are the parts of my face that are most visible now when I am all wrapped up, she thought.
"Dunham. Are you okay?", she heard him ask as the analytic creases appeared on his forehead.
"Yeah. Fine. Why?", Olivia replied matter-of-factly, trying to imperceptibly shuffle her thighs one against the other to calm her arousal.
"You look a little flushed.", he now touched her forehead with his left palm, as if checking her temperature.
"It's nothing, Peter", she stepped out of the radius of his fingers that only increased the warm sensation between her legs and she thought she saw disappointment in his eyes.
They darkened slightly, obtaining that specific inky-blue hue of Baghdad night-sky. "Let's just go."
"As the lady commands. I know an excellent bar, just two blocks away. Thought we'd walk?"