Summary: Perry is working overtime and needs to unwind a little. Della agrees, up to a point... Rating: Some steam this time, some angst. Not so much fluff. Characters: Della, Perry, Paul. Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and all that jazz. :) Hope you'll enjoy this story. I have NO clue where it came from but suddenly it popped up in my mind.

Overtime

Perry Mason was sitting at his desk, his head buried in law books and notes delivered to him by the Paul Drake Agency at 8 am. What had looked like an apparent case then, had slowly turned into a spiral of bad news and unanswered questions. Questions he hadn't been able to tick off in the afternoon, but rather crippled his brain now at 11 pm. The attorney rubbed his forehead. No matter where he allowed his mind to turn, a new question popped up from a page and new inconsistencies revealed themselves. He couldn't remember the last time a case had frustrated him that much, couldn't make out if he had ever felt so helpless in finding a solution.

"You need some rest, chief," his secretary hummed from across the room, her voice soft like it always was when they were working late and she was trying to mask her disapproval.

Perry closed his eyes and rubbed his eyebrows, then leaned back in his chair to release a dissatisfied groan. When he reopened his tired blue, Della Street was standing next to him in a dress adorned with her initials embroidered where his eyes didn't dare to linger. When she leaned back against his desk, she made that rustling sound he adored so much. Her full skirt reared up, but her hands tamed it, the hem of her petticoat now visible to him, enlivening his imagination. His hands began to twitch, longing to touch her, but his mind was faster. "You are right," Perry Mason forced himself to say. "Maybe we should call it a night." His eyes met hers, absorbed her smile, then drifted south again. The collar of her top turned-up, inviting him to caress her neck. A button coming loose, adumbrating the lingerie she was wearing underneath. "I don't think I can get any more work done tonight."

"Then go home," Della suggested, not unaware of Perry's gaze. Caressing her curves with his eyes, Perry was unable to look up to protest or agree. Standing so close her scent bewitched him, made him weak. Was that the new perfume she had raved about the other day, Perry wondered. Had her waist always been so tiny?

"I think I'll wrap up a few things first," the attorney finally replied, oblivious to the radiance of her guarded smile, to the things she tried to ask him with her eyes.

"Can I help?" Della searched his gaze and finally succeeded, having Perry wonder what else she was trying to convey. The sparkle he saw in her eyes was perky but timid just the same.

"You may," he answered tenderly, then reached out his hands to caress her hips and waist. When Della didn't flinch, Perry pierced her eyes with his and dared to explore uncharted territory, at least for him. Opening the buttons of her top down to the one that was already half coming off, he drank in the sudden blush appearing on her cheeks, the hungry shimmer in her eyes, matching his. "Someone should sew this back on," the attorney whispered. Her answer a nod so reluctant it kept him going. You are so beautiful, his eyes assured her, then caressed her face, her neck, her collarbones, until they rested on the lace gilding her breasts. His breathing stopped. He couldn't speak, unable to grasp it was really her now leaning half exposed against his desk. Before his head could interfere, his hands were exploring her body, her breathing flat at first then heavy. A little squeal revealed where she was ticklish: around the knee bend, Perry made a mental note and pushed his luck by fondling her legs with more intent. His fingers caressed her nylons along the seam, then disappeared underneath her skirt only to reappear again. Della closed her eyes and wiggled closer towards his hands, inviting him to explore more of her stockings. And so he did, with full abandon, taking his time to see her fully blushed as soon as he reached her garters, then the top of her thighs. Her skin was soft wherever he reached, but the top of her thighs was especially delicate, an arousing mix of tender and firm. When he heard her gasp, the attorney leaped up from his chair to bring his body up against hers. Leaning into her, he helped her adapt to his frame overpowering her in height and width. When Della parted her lips, he was quick to seal them with a fervid kiss. One of his hands was steadying them now against his desk while the other had moved on up into her hair to tousle it. Della brought her arms around his neck and pressed her body harder against his. Her fingers brushed through his hair in tender circles, then dove into the collar of his shirt half unbuttoned, sending shivers down his spine, her touch was so light. Perry smiled against her mouth, then teased her tongue with his for a deeper kiss. Della gasped and flickered her eyes. Never before had she been kissed like this. Her heart was racing, her gut tingled.

"I should be going now," Della suddenly tried to pull away.

"This is not the time to go home now, baby," Perry decided and pushed her back onto his desk, his kiss as hungry now as his hands. Della welcomed his tongue and kissed him back. It was so easy to get lost in his embrace, but this was something else. Della gasped again and backed away with utmost strength.

"Perry, please," she whispered and steadied her hand against his chest. Her eyes pleaded with him to let her go, but for a moment, Perry's head was not in control. Della could see the struggle in his eyes, his wish to ravish her against his better judgment. "I'll see you tomorrow, chief," her voice was brittle, his glare painfully intense.

"Don't come in too early," Perry finally growled as he forced his body to release her from under him although every pore, every bone was fiercely objecting his decision.

"I won't," Della replied under her breath and placed a soft kiss onto his lips. "Good night, counselor." Her smile was grateful, shy, her gaze filled with regret.

"Good night." Perry Mason watched her leave, her hips inviting him to dream. Stop it, the attorney growled at himself, now frustrated with both, his secretary and an invidious case. He should have gotten used to her good-byes by now. But no! Seeing her go hurt every time. Hurt more so now that their kiss had lingered. Now that he knew what her body really felt like. If he got home now, he would lie in bed awake all night, her face smiling at him the second he would close his eyes. Her body swaying to a distant melody, her voice would whisper in his ears, her throat release a moan, a sigh to his hands caressing her. She would tell him what she liked, not be the Della he knew but one created by his love-starved mind.

"I need a drink," Perry Mason groaned, the memories of her body too fresh to let go of without assistance. So he opened the sideboard behind his desk to search for the liquor Della always kept as an asset of the last resort. And there it was, a bottle of Bourbon. Thank goodness, Perry exhaled, then poured himself a glass, gulped it down and allowed himself a second, then a third. He slid down into his chair to wait for the booze to make him drowsy, but nothing happened. Her face was still there, inside his head. The taste of her lips, the radiance of her smile. It was no use attempting to return to work like this. No way to escape the spell she had put him under by making out with him. So he picked up the phone and dialed a well-known number. "Paul," he asked when his friend picked up seconds later.

"Still working, huh," the detective answered. "Makes fools of us both, working late on a Friday night."

Friday, the attorney closed his eyes. How could that have slipped his ming?! He and Della had actually made plans. A gallery opening at 6, a table reserved for them at Clay's at 8... Perry Mason growled, now truly despising himself. "Paul, listen..."

"What's cooking, pal?"

"I need a ride," the attorney mumbled. "No questions asked."

"No problem, pal. I'll be right over." And so he was, five minutes later. As Paul opened the back door to Perry's office, his friend was already prepared to leave. Coat swung around his shoulders, hat and briefcase in hand he didn't look drunk enough to have needed to hail a driving service at this hour of the day. Paul got suspicious. Law books on Perry's desk, crumpled notes right next to them and a glass the detective was sure had been filled with the expensive Bourbon Della liked to save for special guests. "Are you drinking alone these days," the PI asked his friend, then followed-up, "Where's Della? Did she finally decide to leave you for a better gig?"

"Are you going to drive me home or not," Perry grumbled, suddenly afraid of the aftermath of his intermezzo with his girl Friday.

"All right, all right. Now don't get touchy," Paul replied with a shrug, then led the way to his usual parking spot in the garage.

When they reached Paul's car, Perry was impatient to get in, then dropped into the passenger's seat and glared ahead without speaking a word to his loyal friend. His head was spinning now. Della's face still stuck in his mind, her seductive little smile, her quiet moans, her sighs. His hands still remembered her skin so soft compared to his. His body longed to feel hers pressed against his at full length. Perry closed his eyes. Never before had a woman preoccupied his mind so fiercely. He wished to growl but was afraid to moan, so his breathing stopped to hold in the pressure she had left him with the moment she had asked him to withdraw. When Paul finally reached his apartment building, Perry was quick to open the door and slipped out of the car with a mumbled thanks on his reticent lips, then hurried away before Paul could offer to join him for another drink.

"Any time," the detective called after him and shook his head. "Whatever's been eating you, old friend."

Inside the building, Perry nodded at the night clerk and tried hard not to rush towards the elevators. If there was one thing he didn't need right now, it was an unnecessary conversation with a familiar stranger. When he finally reached his apartment, he slammed the door shut with his back, dropped his briefcase where he was standing and threw his hat on the hat stand where his coat went next. Then he rushed towards the kitchen, took of his tie and poured himself a glass of tap water, then gulped it down in one large sip and put the empty glass into the sink. When he returned to his living room, he kicked off his shoes and enjoyed the darkness that surrounded him. He stood still for a while, palpated the carpet with his feet and listened to the sound of his breath. The image of her was strong inside his head, even stronger now with his feet almost bare and the ticklish feeling of carpet flakes underneath his soles. He was sensitive to contact like that, always had been. A caress, a kiss, the touch of a hand always stayed with him. Although no touch had ever been so persistent, so haunting like Della's today. Not that she hadn't touched him before. She frequently did, but in a different manner. Today, everything had been different, from the way she had looked at him to the boundaries she had let him push beyond their unspoken agreement. A romantic dinner had always been all right, some dancing and a kiss to say good-bye. A buss at work when nothing helped him think but her beautiful smile. His arm around her waist, her elbow cupped in his hand when they walked. Preparing lunch with her on a quiet day, brushing his hands against hers when she was slicing the salad. But never more. Never what he had always enjoyed with other women, but somehow couldn't bring himself to ask from her. Not that he didn't want to have sex with Della - after all, overpowering her today on his desk had made that painfully clear - but he couldn't just jump at it with her like he had before. With her, his heart wanted to take it slow even if his body disapproved.

Perry Mason groaned. If two drinks hadn't helped calming his body, then what else would - apart from what he couldn't have? He dropped his sports jacket on the couch and opened the remaining buttons of his shirt. He could call Paul again and ask him to get a girl to have some fun with for a while. The attorney shook his head. No. He had been there done that in his youth and never enjoyed it beyond that fleeting moment of release. What he was looking for now was something else. And something else he had found in Della Street. Her mix of independence and loyalty fascinated him. Her beauty, inside and out. What he wanted was to make love with her, whenever she was ready. Perry closed his eyes and saw her body leaning against his desk, remembered her smile, the alluring peek onto her breasts. His hands were trembling like they did before and Perry couldn't help but rid himself of his clothes, piece by piece, convinced that the only thing that could help him now was a cold shower and another stiff drink. So he entered his bedroom, dress shirt in hand and started to step out of his pants. Clad in nothing but his briefs, the attorney put his clothes on a pile by the bed, then sat down on the mattress to take off his wristwatch and socks. In his mind he heard her voice, the moan she had not been able to suppress when his body had pushed her down on the desk. Her lips had been so soft but strong nonetheless, her tongue flexible and thorough. Her hands warm and affectionate. He could almost feel them now on his skin.

"What took you so long, chief," a whisper sounded from behind his back, sultry, real. "I was beginning to worry you had decided on other sleeping arrangements."

Perry was unsure for a moment, then turned around to find her lying bare between his sheets. Her face sans make-up, her hair untamed. She had never looked more beautiful to him.

"Had I known you were waiting here for me, I'd have skipped the drinks to get you out of my head," his reply was honest, his body fast in claiming hers. There was no way his heart would win over his body now, no way for him to take it slow. But Della's kiss stopped his pace.

"I love you, Perry," Della hummed against his neck and for a moment he was lost with words.

"Can you wait a couple more minutes," he finally asked, his eyes locked on hers. "I'll be back before you know it, freshly showered and shaved."

Della laughed, "All right." Then kissed him again and watched him dash into the bathroom with a peppy stride.

When he returned, the bed was empty and Perry's heart sank for a minute. "Della," he dared to call out. "Baby, where are you?"

"I'm here," her voice hummed back and Perry sighed with relief, then quickly exchanged his towel for a comfortable bathrobe.

"Don't do that to me," the attorney smiled when he found her in the living room clad in nothing but his sheets. "I'm still recovering from you running out on me at the office."

"I'm sorry," Della whispered and brought her arms around his neck. "I needed to clear my head for a while." She brushed her lips against his for a tender buss. "You made it spin there for a moment, I couldn't let that happen."

"Why not?" Perry claimed her mouth with his, more slowly now but deep nonetheless.

Breaking their kiss without pulling away from his embrace, Della replied softly, "I had to be sure I really want this." Her hands opened his bathrobe enough to caress his chest, her eyes were shy upon meeting his.

"You believe in waiting until you're married," Perry voice sounded soft inside her ears, his eyes were sparkling with affection.

"Not exactly," Della replied with a grateful smile. "I just know how it feels to be rushed into it, to feel overwhelmed and obliged to consent."

Holding her close to him, Perry fought hard not to get angry at a man he couldn't punch in the face now years later. A man from a past that wasn't his. A man who probably had scarred Della's heart more deeply than she would ever be willing to reveal. "I'm sorry I didn't back off right away," he whispered onto her head. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"If you had scared me, would I be here now, wearing nothing but your sheets," Della interrupted him tenderly, then pulled him into a lingering kiss. "I was just hoping for a more comfortable environment for our first time." She gave him a seductive smile, then turned around and grabbed the belt of his bathrobe like a leash, pulling him along into the bedroom. "I'm here to make love to you," she hummed and allowed the sheets to drop from her body onto the floor. "My boss told me to sleep in, so there's plenty of time."

"Sounds like a keeper, that boss of yours," Perry moaned as she pushed him down onto his bed. "Is he married?"

"It's not for him," Della shook her head, then slowly crawled onto the bed, brushing her skin against his along the way. "He's not the type."

"How do you know," Perry Mason grinned, then flipped her over, his body claiming hers. "He may have changed his mind."

Fin