A/N: Takes place around the time of the series three episode, "Gently Evil." George is at the beach with Lisa Bacchus (John's wife) and Leigh Ann, Lisa's little girl. My thanks to dancesabove.
George and Lisa sat side by side at the shore, both dressed for the less-than-warm weather. He rubbed her back absently, his broad hand smoothing her spring coat.
It had been Lisa's sadness that had prompted this familiarity that he now seemed unable to stop. His touch had grown into something more since the quick hand he'd laid upon her back – since she had seemed to melt into him. He had whispered her name softly and tried to reassure her with the widening circles across her spine when she had discussed the need to end her marriage.
And even knowing it was utterly wrong and hopeless and unreal, he was held there by her obvious need for that simple bit of contact.
How long had John shut her out? Avoided her? Punished her? Gently wondered, with a mixture of anger and pity.
She let out a small laugh just then, surprising him and bringing his thoughts back to her alone. She stretched a bit. Smiled. And without warning, moved so that she was lying on her stomach on the old blanket. She brought her arms up to pillow her head.
He cast a quick look at her little girl, who was playing in the sand five yards off. But then he yielded to this young woman and what she seemed to need from him. He admitted to himself that it felt glorious to be what a woman wanted again, even if only for this small space of time.
He reclined onto an elbow and placed his free hand at her shoulder blade.
"Oh, scratch. Just there. Would you, George?" she begged, guiltily.
He smiled to himself and eagerly complied.
"Enough?" he wondered after a while.
"I would never tell you that," Lisa admitted in a faraway voice.
"Nonetheless," he tutted.
"Of course." There was that weary sigh. Far too old for her young body. But then, she did have the non-stop care of this child, and those feelings of abandonment to manage. "Back on duty, am I?" she wondered as she started to push up.
It made him relent.
"No, no. Don't you stir. Leigh Ann's fine. I can watch her for a bit. Relax." And he meant only to place a chaste kiss to her hair. But his lips landed at her ear.
She failed to stifle her sleepy purr… and a coiled bit of him begged to be let loose in reply.
But he was on duty, so to speak. And was not the woman's husband.
He sat up and turned his attention to the child. But Lisa looked over for a moment then. Just long enough to find his hand. Her grasp in his was awkward, but she relaxed again. Finally finding that half-sleep that mothers manage. He kept her hand in his that hour.
/ / / /
Leigh Ann was sleeping in the back of Lisa's car, the one she had borrowed from her parents. The two adults were standing on the pavement in the early evening shadows outside Gently's flat.
"Thank you," she said. "For today."
"My pleasure."
"Everything is ever so much easier when I'm not trying to do it on my own."
"Shhh. Lisa. Don't act so beholden when I have had a wonderful time of it," he insisted.
She leaned forward and let her hands wind around his waist. Her head settled on his chest.
"Oh, girl," he breathed into her hair.
And when her kiss came shyly, he did not deny himself or her. He waited through it. Let it be the most blessedly full kiss it could be, before he whispered the truth of things. "We can't, Lisa. No more than that. It's pointless, and it would be wrong."
"I know. But I do tilt at windmills sometimes."
/ / / /
It was worse than kissing her, he thought; what he was doing now. Sitting at work that week, he could not keep from thinking about her. Her absent husband was there, a desk away, quite obviously considering him – without wanting to be caught considering him.
And knowing no way to stop, Gently carried on drawing windmills.
...tbc...