A/N: I have to apologize again because it took me so long to update. The only excuse I have is that I wasn't able to write this chapter until now. It continues right where the last one ended. Since it has been a while, let me wrap up what already happened in this story. We learned about Cal's and Gillian's fantasies about how they imagine their first time together (Cal = his office, his couch / Gillian = his office, his desk). Then Cal told Gillian the first part of a ghost story in which they visit an eccentric client who lives in a castle in the middle of the woods (ending with her asking him if she can sleep in his room because she is afraid of ghosts) and the real thing started on Cal's couch. So, basically, I interrupted them going for it at the end of the last chapter.
Rating of the first half of the chapter (as well as the ending) is a strong "T" or even light "M" content- and/or language-wise (including an f*** bomb). So please only read it if it's appropriate for your age.
Thanks to everyone who is still reading this and took the time to leave a review. I appreciate your support very much.
Disclaimer: I would love to see that as a LTM episode, but there is no chance in hell this will happen. Ever. Plus, I own nothing regarding LTM, just my vivid imagination.
- Third Scene/Second Shot: The camera zooms out, away from the couch, and then in again, focusing on the desk -
Their slow, soft kisses on the couch got more heated and turned into a sensual frenzy soon. Cal had expected his role in this to be more... challenging. He had expected at least some hesitation and resistance from Gillian, had prepared to cautiously seduce her and convince her thereby that it was the right thing to do. But she wasn't reluctant or shy at all. After a brief moment of uncertainty, her mouth and tongue were willing opponents in their voluptuous battle instead. She let him touch her wherever he wanted and did the same. Both of them were pushing and pulling, fingers frantically unbuttoning her blouse and eagerly taking his pullover off to finally feel skin on skin. At some point, Cal changed position so suddenly that Gillian lost balance, almost fell off the couch, and stood up halfway, dragging him along. Still, she didn't break their kiss when they stumbled backwards and ended up on his desk.
That's where they are right now. Somewhere deep down in Gillian's otherwise distracted mind the recognition flickers that this is her favorite scenario. Cal's office. Cal's desk. To feel his weight on her, his bare chest, makes her shiver with excitement. She can't remember taking her blouse or her bra off, but the clothes have vanished magically. Nothing separates his wildly beating heart and her arching back when she presses herself even closer against his body. Cal kisses her neck, covers her entire upper body with a hungry attack of his lips that will for sure leave marks, but Gillian couldn't care less. This is heaven. Has to be. Or maybe it is hell and she just hasn't realized it yet because she doesn't exactly have her head on straight. Whatever it is, though, whatever the consequences will be, she is dead certain that it is worth it, wants Cal like she has never wanted another man in her whole life before. Gillian lets her head fall back with a moan of pleasure so that her throat is exposed to Cal. Complete surrender.
The moment he feels Gillian's body squirm underneath his, hears her sigh, sees her exposed throat as the ultimate indication of trust, Cal knows he will lose it any moment if he doesn't do anything about it. It is too overwhelming, too consuming, like a wild fire destroying everything once it started and got out of control. He wishes he could let go the way she does, even more since she does it in such an erotic way that exceeds his imagination by far – ravishing, wanton, everything he ever fantasized about and so much more. He is highly aware of the risk, though, that as soon as he will do the same, there will be the danger of touching her, taking her, way too roughly, maybe even physically hurting her – not on purpose, of course, never on purpose. But if he will allow his body to merge with hers, there won't be the slightest possibility of holding back anymore. Cal simply knows that. The feelings that burn him from within scare him. He expected their first time to be intense, but he wasn't prepared for this. No matter how close they are, it isn't enough; no matter how fast they move, it feels as if everything happens in slow motion. He wants more, more, more. That's why he has to protect her from himself, has to stop this. But not until he saw her come undone.
Cal kisses his way down her upper body, pushes up her skirt and removes her panties with one smooth move. Gillian forces herself not to think about the many times he must have done that before to be so skilled. When his tongue tickles her inner thighs, though, and his breath replaces the whiff of air between her legs, all thoughts are banned. This is her fantasy coming true. The rest is a blur. She remembers screaming his name, not caring anymore about anything. Not about decency, not about how she may look, not about the mess they make on his desk. But when she slowly finds her way back to reality, she realizes something is wrong. Albeit Cal is still there, he has... stopped, standing there motionlessly, looking at her with pupils that are black as night and an expression that makes her entire body tingle with excitement. Still, neither do his hands, that have come to a rest on her thighs, stroke her, nor does he seem to be inclined to do what she expected him to do next, what she longs for desperately, no matter how good he just made her feel. God, she wants him there. Please. They are not finished yet. Not even close.
Her pulse is racing. There is a whirr in her ears so that she can't hear him at first when he tries to talk to her although she thinks she lipread his words, but she must have been mistaken. Then Cal steps back and Gillian hears the words he repeats. He takes another step back. The shivers of excitement that flooded through her body moments ago are replaced by an ice-cold grasp of fear. He is going to leave.
"I'm sorry," he says. "That is not the way it was supposed to happen."
- Forth Scene/First Shot: Night, streetlights, the camera focuses on Gillian, sitting in her car, sleeping -
She lost time searching for her underwear after Cal had left. Left. She still can't believe it. He left in the middle of making love to her or whatever it was they did. This is the worst of all possible scenarios. Gillian eventually found her bra but not her panties. Perhaps he had taken them, on purpose or by accident; perhaps she was too hectic and confused to find them. However, she was too late. When she made it to her car, Cal's was already gone. She checked some bars Cal visits regularly, didn't find him there and came to his house to wait for him. Gillian has a spare key, but she didn't use it, his absent car telling her that he was God knows where. The thought crossed her mind that he might have done the same, might have gone to her house, but somehow she doubted it. Not after the way he had left. Cal was ashamed, believed he had done or had been about to do something wrong. Who knows what is going on in his brilliant, yet screwed up, mind. Probably he was putting off going home because he knew she was waiting there for him and wanted to evade the unavoidable. It would have infuriated her if the whole situation hadn't been so messed up, ridiculous even. After all this time, they had finally given in to their mutual attraction. It had been wonderful, intoxicating. Nevertheless, Gillian ended up sitting in her car in front of his house without underwear. Thank you, fate, for playing the harsh reality card just after Cal had given her the best sexual release of her life and she had considered herself to be on cloud nine. Her thoughts were straying restlessly until the exhaustion of her body took over and she fell asleep.
He watches her through the car window. She looks so young and innocent in her sleep; he doesn't want to wake her. Obviously, she has a sixth sense, though, because she wakes up albeit he made no sound and the night is dead silent. For a brief, awkward moment, they stare at each other. Then he turns around and walks toward his house.
In a flash, Gillian gets out of the car, following him, even if the fact that she just woke up makes her movements a bit uncoordinated.
"Cal, wait."
It is still dark; Gillian doesn't know what time it is or how long she slept. She walks faster to catch up with him.
Cal ignores her, fumbling with the door. He doesn't seem to be as drunk as she feared he would be though.
"Cal, would you please listen to me."
- Forth Scene/Second Shot: Still night, Cal's living room -
She could as well talk to the wall. He doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, takes off his coat, throws it on a chair in passing and takes a bottle of Scotch along before he slouches on his couch. For a split second, Gillian is distracted, images of the two of them and how it all started tonight on the couch in his office filling her mind. It feels as if it happened days ago, not only a couple of hours.
When he eventually looks at her, she doesn't expect him to choose such hard-edged words, underestimated his anger that is addressed at himself but hits her, as it often does.
"Go away."
It hurts. Gillian flinches but doesn't move.
Cal sniffs.
"You smell like sex."
She noticed it when she followed him inside, the movements intensifying the scent that clings to her body, reminding her that it wasn't only a dream. The realization how close they were to bliss and how far away from it they are now lets a wave of disappointment and anger flood through her.
"Really?" she counters. "That's interesting since you never actually fucked me."
The extent of Gillian's hurt and anger, that is not neatly wrapped up in a controlled reaction as usual, tells Cal how badly he screwed up. Silent, feigned ignorance is uncritical, part of their daily routine. Angry glances are still within the limits but an indication that he is heading toward dangerous territory. A calm and controlled voice like the one she used just now is a red, flashing warning sign that he has ticked her off badly and better behaves himself. This voice combined with swearing is a first. Cal swallows as if he could unsay his words that caused her reaction.
"What do you want?" he eventually asks. A rhetorical question. He is stalling for time.
"The truth. Why did you leave?" Ran away, she thinks. Like a fugitive.
The silence between them stretches uncomfortably and Gillian realizes he would comfort her with a lie if he could get away with it. As it is, though, he knows she would see through his game. So the truth it is.
"Didn't want to stop, but I wanted it to be... gentle and I couldn't..."
He looks so lost, his body in constant motion. She gets what he is trying to say even by the use of these few words. Her anger diminishes.
"Who said I wanted gentle?" she replies quietly. "What happened was exactly what I wanted. It was exactly what I always imagined. Save that it ended too soon. All I wanted, all I want, is you. We both know very well that I am able to handle every version of you."
"Not this version." Cal's voice is a mix of cautious hope and wary distrust.
"Especially this version." Gillian is surprised how composed her voice sounds, how composed she feels. She isn't embarrassed, didn't blush, simply listened to him tell the truth and shared her own.
She steps closer to the couch so that her bare legs touch the piece of furniture; her pantyhose didn't survive their earlier outburst of passion. Cal has stopped moving aimlessly; his hands lie still beside his legs only inches away from her naked skin. He could reach out easily to... Gillian remembers what she is wearing, or rather not wearing, and the familiar tingling in her lower stomach sets in again just when Cal makes eye contact, noticing her dark pupils and her quick breathing.
"Do you still want me to leave?"
He doesn't; his face already gave her an answer and his hand confirms it. Gillian feels it touch her knee bend first before it starts to caress the back of her upper thigh, moving higher and higher. But just when it reaches the hem of her skirt, she grabs it and sits down next to Cal on the couch.
Gillian knows that he expects her to pick up where they left off, allowing his touch to proceed the slow dance along her legs, giving him even better access now that she is closer to him. What Cal doesn't expect is her request.
"Tell me how your story ends."
She is sitting next to him the way they often sit together – facing him, her legs comfortably tucked sideways.
"Why?"
Cal reaches out; his hand draws lazy circles on Gillian's knee, but he doesn't try anything beyond it, his eyes never leaving her face when he purses his lips. Her reaction is pure instinct. Gillian's eyes drop to his mouth and she licks her lips in anticipation. He isn't going to let her off the hook that easily.
"Because I want to know how it ends."
It is the truth. His story initiated everything tonight and after the disaster in his office in the thick of it – a minor disaster now that they are about to put it in perspective but still – Gillian at least wants to know how the story would have ended if she hadn't interrupted him. The urge to skip words and let their bodies to the talking is very strong. Then again, this is Cal, and as sexy as his body is, it's his sexy mind that turns her on most.
Cal's facial expression changes from surprise over a slight disappointment to the familiar smirk he displays when he appreciates something she said or did. He accepts the challenge, silently agreeing with her that what just had started between them (again) when she asked him about the story is only a pleasure deferred.
"One more thing," Gillian says. "I'm not afraid of ghosts. Consider that before you continue the scene in which I knocked on your door in your story."
"You mean when you asked me to sleep in my room?"
Her last sentence in his ghost story before she interrupted him in real life.
"Yes, and that."
- Fifth Scene/First Shot: The camera pans outside through the window of Cal's living room; there is a wide-angle shot of Cal's house before the camera makes some turns and then pans inside again through another window, ending up in the castle where Cal and Gillian are opposing each other on the threshold of the connecting door between their rooms -
The wind that has been blowing hard all evening has turned into a storm by now, rattling at the windows.
Can I sleep in your room?
Did she really say that? Cal wonders whether he had too much wine or misheard because of the storm. But when he steps aside, Gillian walks into his room. In passing, he inhales a mix of her perfume and what he assumes is her moisturizer she applies before going to bed. Nice. He adds it to his things-I-know-about-Gillian list.
She stops in the middle of the room, looking around. A desk. An upholstered armchair. One bed that catches her attention. Over her shoulder, Cal glimpses at the furnishing of her room. It's basically the same. What did she expect?
Gillian turns around, making eye contact for a brief moment until she drops her gaze, obviously intimidated by her own courage to come over and uncertain what to do next. He realizes that he never saw her like this before. Without make-up, wearing only pajama pants and a tank top. There are lots of freckles on her skin. She looks younger, almost vulnerable. Cal likes it, wondering whether she usually wears this in bed or only when she sleeps in a hotel (or castle in this particular instance).
Just when she opens her mouth to say something, there is a high, piercing sound. It comes from her room, and the moment she hears it, Gillian kind of jumps in his arms. Interesting. And not necessarily unpleasant.
"Close the door," she says in a hushed voice, pulling him back, away from the threshold, so that he can accommodate her request. Only when the door is closed, she calms down and steps away from him.
"Ghosts?" Cal spreads his arms, jutting his chin forward quizzically.
"No ghosts, Cal," Gillian sighs exasperated. "I'm not afraid of ghosts; they don't exist. I'm afraid of...," she hesitates and blushes embarrassed, "...mice."
"So, no ghosts?" he repeats, not bothering to suppress a very smug smirk.
"No."
"But mice?"
"Yes, mice, Cal." Gillian is annoyed, folding her arms. "Why did I come here?" she whispers, talking to herself.
Cal is openly laughing. What he interpreted as a fear of ghosts earlier was only her uneasiness to sleep in a building in the middle of nowhere in which unwelcome visitors are bound to occur from time to time no matter how many preparations are made.
"Not funny, Cal."
Gillian heads to the interconnecting door, apparently rather willing to confront her fear than to deal with his mockery.
"Come on, Gill," he stops her when she walks past him, putting an arm around her shoulders, his voice soft and soothing. Bare shoulders, he registers as soon as his arm makes contact with her skin. "You don't have to go back. Stay here in my mice-free zone."
She still pouts but can't bite back a smile. Cal is insufferable sometimes, but he always is so damned charming.
"Take the bed, luv," he says, trying to convince her to stay. "I'll take the arm chair."
Gillian examines the arm chair. Definitely uncomfortable. Then she examines the bed. King-sized. Very big and very comfy. A comfy old bed if ever there was one. She looks at Cal and takes a deep breath.
"Don't be silly. The bed is big enough for both of us."
"OK then," he answers so quickly that she realizes he tricked her. Cal never intended to sleep in the armchair, only pretended so that she would stay and he would be able to sleep in the bed. With her.
"Which side?" he asks boldly, perking his eyebrows up. Cal knows Gillian saw through him.
She approaches the bed – OK then – noticing that the sheets are rumpled on one side. Only slightly, but it seems as if Cal already had been in bed when she knocked. Revenge is sweet. Even if she usually sleeps on the other side, she will take this side so that he has to take the cold bed sheets. It serves him right.
"This one," she replies before she can change her mind. Cal. She. Sharing a bed. If Loker or Torres find out, they will keep on and on forever.
- Fifth Scene/Second Shot: Darkness, outside of the castle the storm is still howling, inside Cal and Gillian are sound asleep in his bed -
Gillian was afraid she would not be able to fall asleep, but the events of the day had been so energy-sapping that she dropped off worrying about it. As did Cal, obviously, because when she wakes up, her heart racing, he is snoring peacefully next to her.
What woke her up? Then she hears it. An uncanny whining, accompanied by a muffled knocking, the creepiness of the sounds accentuated by the utter darkness and silence inside the castle and the storm outside.
"Cal," her voice is hushed as she tries to shake him out of his sleep.
"What?" He sits up and the moon shining through the window captures his ruffled hair. Cute. And sexy. For a brief moment, Gillian almost forgets why she woke him. So this is what he looks like when we wake up together, she thinks. Then she hears the eerie noises again and Cal does, too. But instead of hopping out of bed to find out what it is, he lays back.
"Cal." Gillian shakes him again. "Don't you want to know what that is?"
"A ghost." His voice sounds as if he is almost asleep again. "Or a a circus trick of our eccentric client."
She sighs and gets out of bed. "Maybe. But what if it isn't? What if someone needs help? It's not as if we could call the police." Their cell phones. They are still not working.
Gillian approaches the door that leads to the hallway and puts her ear against it. She tries to listen, but it isn't easy because her heart is beating wildly and she hears her own pulse in her ears. Just when her hand reaches for the door knob, she feels a hand on her shoulder and winces startled. Cal eventually decided to tag along and creeped up on her.
"God, Cal," she hisses. "Don't do that."
Once they are in the hallway, the whining is louder, but the echo of the high ceilings makes it impossible to locate. It's pitch-dark aside from some puddles of moonlight the windows let in here and there. There are many shadows, many dark corners, many places to hide. In addition to the storm, lightning and thunder bluster, causing Gillian to stop suddenly. Cal bumps into her, startling her another time. She turns around and pushes him back, her nerves raw. Although she doesn't believe in the existence of ghosts, being in a situation like this that puts your instincts on high alert, trying to convince you otherwise, is a completely different matter.
"Sorry," she whispers, making an effort to compose herself, "but you keep doing that."
Scared Gillian is very sweet. Cal knows she would push him away again if she could see his face right now. So he swallows his answer – and it just gets funnier and funnier - and grabs her wrist instead so that he won't unwittingly bump into her once more.
They walk down the hallway for a bit longer. By now it intersected other hallways; they went left, right, left, or maybe right another time. Cal eventually gave up trying to remember. They will never find their way back to their rooms on their own; he is dead certain about that. When they hear the whining again, it is much louder, though, meaning they have to be close to the source. At least they lost their way with good reason.
"Maybe it's a huge mouse," he mumbles, feeling Gillian poking him in the ribs.
Cal gropes in the dark until he finds a door. Lightning illuminates the hallway so that he is able to see Gillian giving him an encouraging nod when he reaches for the knob and opens the door that isn't locked. Another lightning blinds them; they can't see what is inside the room at a glance. If this was a movie, the lightning would have been the perfect dramatic effect. Fortunately, one of the puddles of light enables them to see at least blurred outlines when the lightning stops for the time being. Save that there is no room. They stare against a brick wall just as the muffled knocking sets in, coming from somewhere behind the wall.
"What is this? The X-Files?" Cal doesn't know whether he is amused or angry. All he knows is that he could be in bed right now, sleeping. Let alone that Gillian would be lying beside him. Not amused, he decides.
He hears Gillian huff and thinks she is annoyed at first until he hears her suppressed laugh and feels her lean forward so that her mouth is flush against his ear.
"Do you think there are aliens behind this wall, Mulder?" So she used to watch the show, too, and understood his reference. Given the absurdity of the situation, Gillian apparently has come to the conclusion that Cal has to be right assuming their client is behind all this.
Her laugh is infectious; Cal joins in. Then everything happens at once.
The knocking continues full force until it turns into something that sounds more like monster throwing itself against the brick wall from the other side; the whining has a nerve-racking quality by this time. Definitely not somebody who needs to be saved but rather something they should avoid at all cost. But when they step back, about to turn around and run away from whatever this is, they realize that they are trapped. Instead of a seemingly endless hallway, another brick wall blocks their way to the right and a motionless figure with an axe in his hand is standing at the end of the hallway to the left. Their laughter fails when they see the axe. Granted, their client is an eccentric man who could have staged such a scenario just for fun. A hoax, taken from a bad spine-chiller. But the axe... All of a sudden, the threat feels very real. Especially when the shadowy figure starts to move, slowly approaching them, as if he has all the time in the world, what makes it even more unreal and downright scary. Cal steps in front of Gillian, instinctively protecting her. Hoax or real he is trying to figure out as she is probably, too.
"Cal..."
He hears her voice behind him. Frightened. It could be staged, but what if it's not? What is he going to do? How is he supposed to protect her? The man has an axe, for God's sake. He will take him out and then Gillian will be alone in this creepy place in the middle of nowhere. Maybe the man with the axe is their client.
"Cal..."
Her voice sounds different this time. Relieved and indignant. Gillian tugs at his sleeve, pointing at the floor. There are wafts of mist all over. Plus, the puddle of light has moved from the door/brick wall to where they are standing. As if they are in the spotlight. As if this is a point-of-view shot. The hoax exposed itself because of too many special effects even if the situation still feels threatening.
"Mr. Jones?" Call yells. "We are having lots of fun down here, but fighting with an axe murderer will be charged separately."
For several moments, that take a long time when you are watching a man with an axe going straight up to you, nothing happens. Then the outlines of the man flicker and he disappears along with the wafts of mist and the brick wall in the hallway, clearing the way for their client. He smiles and claps his hands. The grueling noises behind the brick wall have stopped.
"It's a shame. I haven't figured out yet how to let a hologram fight in a realistic way. I tried it with real people, but the danger of injuries and damage suits is much too high."
Holograms. They could have walked right through the brick wall or the axe murderer whereas their instinct told them to flee. In the end, we are held captive by our own minds.
"This...," Mr. Jones spreads out his arms, referring to the castle. "...is my newest project. The haunted house. You can book a weekend full of luxury and fear. Just as much of both of it as you want. Packages from 3- to 7-course-meals are available combined with classical ghost appearances or various other scenarios."
Cal and Gillian look at each other, thinking the same. We already signed the documents and are bound by contract to this mad man. When neither of them answers, Mr. Jones hints a bow.
"Please excuse the inconveniences and that rather rude foretaste of my brainchild without any prior warning. I'm like a child when it comes to my ideas. I'll sent the business concept to your office. Making sure that adequate people support and finance it will be your first task. And now let me show you the way back to your rooms."
Suddenly, he is as likeable and pleasant-natured as he was during their dinner. Somehow they will have to learn to handle him.
Without further ado, Mr. Jones turns around elegantly, almost hovering over the floor. They reach their rooms surprisingly fast. He bids them goodnight what feels like a déjà vu because it happens for the second time tonight, pulls a remote out of his pocket and clicks on it. Storm, lightning and thunder stop immediately. Another special effect. Of course.
"That should assure you won't be disturbed during the rest of the night." He smiles almost shyly and disappears into the dark.
There is brief hesitation on Gillian's side when they both walk into Cal's room. Cal pretends he doesn't notice.
"I can fetch your stuff from your room tomorrow morning," he offers when they collapse into bed. "So that you don't have to confront, you know, the evil mouse even if it is probably more scared of you than the other way round."
"Thank you." Gillian is too tired for a witty reply.
"You must admit that the luxury fear caste is an interesting concept," Cal says, switching off the bedside lamp.
"Either that or he is a complete lunatic."
"Think so, Scully? That your scientific explanation?" Cal counters with another X-Files reference, but she is already asleep.
- Sixth Scene/First Shot: Cal's and Gillian's outlines, as they are laying in bed together, get blurry when the camera pans outside through the window; there is a wide-angle shot of the castle before the camera makes some turns and then pans inside again through another window, ending up in Cal's living room where Cal and Gillian are sitting on his couch -
"You have a things-I-know-about-Gillian list?" Of course. She has such a list, too. All things Cal. Not that she intends to tell him.
"T'was a story." Apparently, he doesn't intend to tell her either. But the list exists; she is sure of that.
"I liked the X-Files references."
"Yeah. Remembered you saying that you love the show."
Cal waits for another question, for Gillian asking him why his story, entertaining as it hopefully was, skipped the best part, namely something else, something more, happening between them.
"That's it?" he asks, barely able to hide his surprise and tension. "No more questions?"
His hand is still on her knee as it was when he started to continue the ghost story. She holds his gaze as she covers it with her own.
"Now that you ask, there actually is one more thing."
They can do that in their sleep, practiced it a million times before. Multiplying the tension in a room with one look, one touch, or a few words. As it happens now.
Gillian keeps looking at Cal, feeling his hand twitch under hers in anticipation. She increases the pressure of her hand subtly, aware that he will notice anyway, and leans forward.
"I'm not afraid of mi...," she can't even finish the sentence, should have known that by now, given the tension in the room, anything would have been the trigger. Cal has interrupted her with a kiss.
The deferred pleasure? He obviously claims his right.
- Sixth Scene/Second Shot: The camera zooms in, capturing the outlines of two bodies in Cal's living room merging with each other on the couch in a sensual dance -
In between kissing and taking their clothes off, they talked some more; breathless words that needed to be said.
That he hadn't been able to include x-rated stuff in his story because it is her. Not my cup of tea, Gill, talking about things like that when it comes to you (he knows she knows about the imagining-it-part because she has her own, secret fantasies as she admitted, but talking about it is a completely different matter). Need this to be real.
She reminded him that things like that are the reason why he doesn't have to worry about her not being able to handle him. You are a gentle man, Cal. And when he disagrees. No, not a gentleman. I'd never want that. That's not who you are. But you are a gentle man, at least when it comes to me. And that's all that matters.
That was moments ago; by now they have stopped talking. Cal wanted a change of location. Bed instead of couch. But she wanted to stay in his living room on his couch. It's nice here, Cal. Look how beautiful the light of dawn shines in.
So he relented, realizing that she was right. The light is more beautiful here than in his bedroom. She hasn't even been there as yet, but somehow Gillian always does the right thing as far as he is concerned. As she did the right thing when she let him continue and finish his story before continuing the physical part. It has calmed him down, has taken the edge off enough so that he doesn't fear to be overwhelmed by an uncontrolled eagerness anymore but is able to enjoy every second with a simple, albeit breathtaking, clarity.
"Stop thinking," even her whisper trembles with excitement.
Reality rarely matches theory. In a fantasy, there are no wrong angles or too small lying surfaces. But in a fantasy you also cannot actually feel another body vibrating against yours or hear soft moans of pleasure. Imagination only goes so far; reality goes beyond. So this is not meant to be perfectly put in execution. This is meant to happen. Nothing more, nothing less.
Whenever Gillian fantasized about Cal, it was about strength and pure physicalness. She knows his mind inside out already. She loves him and knows he loves her. So her fantasy extended that to the unknown part – how it would feel if he actually made love to her. A longing she saw in his eyes countless times (and he probably saw it in hers, too). She always imagined to feel weightless in his arms, as if she was floating, consumed by his desire. Still, she is surprised when reality comes close to her imagination. Pleasantly surprised, of course. This is them. On his couch. The weight of his wiry body on top of hers making her feel safe and letting her skin tingle at the same time until she feels dizzy. Reality even outranks her fantasy because imagining Cal touching her and holding on tight isn't remotely the same as feeling how his arm edges in between her back and the couch, clasping her waist to lift it a bit so that what started to feel a little uncomfortable (because it's been a while) suddenly feels just right. Yes, she thinks, right there, please, until she realizes that she didn't only think it but keeps saying these words out loud. Unlike other men in her life (okay, Alec), Cal seems to like it though. Very much, in fact.
Whenever Cal fantasized about Gillian, he always imagined how soft her skin would feel, how nervous he would be to be finally allowed to see her naked, how beautiful she would be. But for some reason his imagination never provided him with images of how she would react to him (it felt too intrusive, even fantasizing about her, he wanted to show respect). Now he feels how she pushes her hips up, colliding with his in an irregular rhythm first until they find one they both like. She is not in the least shy to touch him, grabbing his back and his bottom to press him even closer against her, breathing in short gasps every time their hips meet. When she tucks up one leg, he understands and pushes it up some more, gasping, too, because that angle is not only better for her. And when she eventually tries to switch positions so that she can be on top, he happily obliges.
Afterwards, when they are spent, only hazy thoughts and lazy caresses separating them from deep sleep, Cal wonders why they never ever did that before. They wasted so much time. Bloody hell.
- Final credits: The screen lightens up; morning has broken; Cal and Gillian are asleep on the couch, a melancholic rhythm'n blues song the only sound in the otherwise silent house -
It's morning. They have to go the office. The moment Gillian realizes it, though, she passes out from exhaustion.
Cal manages to stay awake a couple of minutes longer, listening to the record Gillian chose from his collection. It's a blues song but not any song. No, it's exactly the song he sometimes heard at the end of his fantasies about her. Cal didn't even know he owned the record. He doesn't believe in fate but this... this makes him believe in something that goes beyond what he is able to understand.
- Post-credits scene: Cal and Gillian are still asleep on the couch; the record stopped playing -
Two hours later their cell phones ring, Torres and Loker calling them because they didn't show up at work. Gillian answers her phone first (what with the guilt of having overslept and all that); Cal answers his shortly after so that Torres hears Gillian talk in the background to Loker who called her whereas Loker hears Cal talking to Torres.
There is some confusion and a futile attempt at damage control when Cal and Gillian realize what is going on and Cal leaves the room, pretending they weren't just caught in the act. But it's too late. Torres and Loker know. It's kind of official, meaning that things not only changed privately. A new era is beginning.
But that's another story.
- The End -
Somehow Cal's ghost story reminded me of one of my favorite X-Files episodes "How the ghosts stole Christmas." Therefore, I couldn't resist to put in some references. Hope those of you who know both shows liked it. Oh, and did you catch the itsy-bitsy "Dirty Loyal" reference? ;)
I'd LOVE to hear (read) what you think (if you want to share your thoughts that is). Thank you for reading.