Chapter Nine

He missed having her around, at the office, in his bed. Long-distance phone calls and carnal encounters every other weekend clearly didn't do enough for him to be a worthy substitute. But the first four years rushed by faster than he thought. Back in L.A., Della had easily landed a personal assistant's position with Arthur Gordon, absorbing her to Perry's dismay. He scolded himself for the immaculate references he had given her, after all, if he was honest, he had secretly hoped she would loathe her new job soon enough and come crawling to be with him, finally beg him to marry her, to let him spoil and display her like a precious doll in a showcase – at least in the dark corners of his lonely fantasy.

He often wondered if she could tell how much it bothered him to know that she now worked her tricks for another man, intimacies excluded but maddening nonetheless. Although he trusted Della without exception, jealousy was brooding in his gut at the mere thought of losing her to a man whose life she was now easing with intuition and her organizational skills.

It was the loneliness that wore him down ever so slowly. The time deficit, reducing them to exchanges of lewdness on the phone, the draining effect of her voice bringing him to climax. Not having her to make love to, the softness of her skin, a mere luscious memory, stirred up frustration met by the lack of adventure in his job. It wasn't the same, no matter where he looked, San Francisco wasn't Los Angeles. Della's voice and scent alone didn't satisfy his needs and the law was simply dreadful without the thrill of a verbal battle in the courtroom. But proud and stubborn as he was, Perry didn't cave in, didn't know how to change what he had started without admitting to the miscalculation of his own dependencies. So he kept busy, went high on coffee and sought pleasure in delicious food, padding his chest and soothing his soul.

"I've missed you," Perry groaned as he pushed her against the inside of his apartment door to close it with a bang. A familiar start into one of their few weekends. "I've missed you so much."

His hands traveled all over her in mad desire, frantically looking for the zipper to release her from as skirt that left so little to his imagination.

"Perry...," Della moaned but seemed reluctant to assist him in devouring her. Her hands were trapped between his body and hers, her core more responsive than her lips. It almost felt as if she was avoiding him. "Perry, please," Della tried to get his attention and pressed her head against the door frame. "Not here."

Perry kept nibbling her neck but nodded against her blushing skin. "All right," he managed to say under his breath and almost dragged her into the bedroom.

He was fast these days, undressing her, pressing his skin on hers to arouse her with his need. He barely took the time to undress himself, unwilling to restrain from overbearing her. He rocked her hard, didn't waste his time, wolfed her down – her kiss, her scent - covered her body with hasty love bites and tiny bruises, left her aching under his rush. Sometimes he hurt her without intention, too absorbed in ravening her to stop. His climax violent and voracious, leaving him panting until he finally collapsed. His weight almost crushed her, making it hard for her to breathe.

When he finally rolled off her, leaving her frustrated for her own release, Perry glared at the ceiling, slowly catching his breath. He had a hard time controlling his appetite for her these days, was unable to satisfy her needs before his own. He felt guilty for being so starved, hated to neglect her happiness, but those lengthy weeks of austereness parched the last drop of chivalry in him.

Della often lay in silence after his invasion, covered her trembling body with a blanket, turned away or closed her eyes to shed a tear. It took him moments to recover until he finally gathered her in his arms, drifting off to sleep or passing on what pleasure she had given him.

That day, four years into their growing separation, Della simply lay bare, expended and weary. "Arthur promoted me last week," she suddenly said in a voice that sounded almost shy.

"That's nice, darling," Perry managed to mumble, his voice still bordering a moan, his body sensitized to her long missed presence and the warmth she had just provided him.

"To executive assistant," Della continued humbly, unwilling to show the smile that threatened to wash over her lips. "New office included and a raise."

Perry rolled on his side to watch her naked form beside him. Was it possible that she had become more beautiful? He brought his hands onto her thighs, his fingertips tickled her delightfully, dipping into her bellybutton, then moved up to cup her breasts.

"Have I ever told you how scrumptious you are?" Perry answered dreamily without really knowing what she had actually said. Her nude body, those beautiful wide eyes ate away all of his attention.

"Is sex all you care about these days?" Della asked in a calm voice masking disapproval. She was so tired of coming up for a weekend only to be bestridden in bed.

"I've not seen you in six weeks, baby," Perry groaned as he brought his lips onto her skin to make her blush with desire. "What do you expect?"

Della closed her eyes with a saddened frown, then caressed his head to gently stop him from spoiling her belly with hungry kisses. "Please stop," she whispered as he continued to taste her, then struggled to read her signs. "Perry, please," she almost begged him now.

Perry Mason propped himself up on his arms and stared at her with esurient eyes. "What's wrong, darling?" He asked and watched how she wiggled away from him to cover her naked flesh from his devouring glare.

"I can't do this anymore," Della answered honestly, unable to meet his gaze. She got up, then stood trembling in front of his bed, suddenly hit by the cold after depriving herself from his touch.

"Do what?" Perry was confused for a beat, then saw her hand clearly holding him at bay as he tried to reach out to soothe her with the warmth of his adoring hands.

"I'm not your mistress, Perry," Della said emphatically, her voice so quiet it barely left her throat. "And I won't let you treat me as if I were."

Her words hit him unexpected, hard. He searched her eyes to see she meant what she had said but didn't want to hurt him. "Della," he started lovingly.

But Della shook her head and stopped him with her hand once more. "I've allowed you to have your way with me, to reduce us to physical pleasures long enough." She paused, then went on. "Four years, Perry, it's been four years of you not coming home. Of us not talking about what's going on in our lives."

Perry glared at the sincerity he found reflected in her eyes, the feeling of rejection he seemed to have inflicted on her without intention.

"Be honest with me. Do you still love me?" Della suddenly asked, her words hitting his heart like bullets.

"What?" He seemed unable to breathe for a moment, then saw how deep these new insecurities ran in her. "Della, honey, where is that coming from?"

"You haven't answered my question," Della gave back in a teary voice. "Do you love me?" she asked and pointed to her nudity. "Or is this all you care about?"

Perry glared at her and shook his head, half to himself and then to her. "I love you so much, darling," he started and crawled towards her. He wanted to hold her so bad.

"Then please don't ask me to come see you like this," she said under her breath, rocked by silent tears, then finally welcomed his embrace again.

Perry reached out for her and pulled her towards him, then held her, bruised by her pain and the craving to sate her with his irrepressible desire.

It was the first weekend Della cancelled on him that was the loneliest. The forth one almost routine. Slowly, he learned to pick up the slightest uneasiness in her voice, knew when she was too exhausted or too uncomfortable to come see him. Her new position ate away the limited time she once used to have or had made for him. His continued hunger for her touch further complicating her absence. His yearning for her so intense that he knew it was better if she stayed away or he would infringe her plea, possibly defile her and never let her go again.

So they stayed apart for weeks and months, had few intermissions, vacation time and holidays. Della brought Paul Jr. every now and then, still doting on him like his mother, loving everything he did. When Della left, Perry stayed behind with an intolerable urge for release and a feeling of solitude that started to tempt him to go astray and seek his pleasure elsewhere. But then he knew that what she gave him no one else could possibly provide. It was so much more than concupiscence, the pleasure her body gave him and her kiss. It was something no money in the world could buy and no affair inflame in him. What he was looking for he had left behind, and no matter how badly he tried to live on his justiceship, he never enjoyed his career as much as he always had with her, back in the days, back in Los Angeles.

"I can't believe you're not going to support his case," Della glared at him in disbelief during one of their rare Bear Valley weekends, alone in his cabin, phone unplugged and mail diverted. "Can't you at least pull some strings?"

"That's what I'm doing, Della," Perry Mason barked back at her, angry to be turned into the bad guy. "But as an appellate court judge, there's only so much I can do."

"It was an accident, Perry," Della pleaded with him as she wrapped his heavy bathrobe closer around her shivering body. "The boy is deeply shaken by what's happened to that girl."

"You always find an excuse for Paul's mistakes," Perry said, unwilling to hide his annoyance and hurried into the kitchen to grab a snack to kill the dissatisfaction of a fight with the woman he loved. "I wonder if you'll ever stop mothering him."

Della Street inhaled sharply but didn't speak. If he could have seen her lips, he would have seen a familiar spectacle of a comment dying on her lips, swallowed down by her better judgement, her crumbling trust in him.

"If you would just put in a good word for him," she finally said in her controlled voice as she followed him into the kitchen, best evidence for him to know he had hurt her with an imprudent remark again. "If not for him, then at least for his father."

Perry noticed how she didn't pull a "for me" to convince him of her cause. She rarely did, but this was one of those cases when he would have expected it, without a blame. They both knew very well that for Paul Senior, Perry would have jumped into action immediately. Not so easily for his son.

"Paul is not our son, Della," Perry finally answered in a quietly angry voice.

"But he's the closest thing we've got," Della admitted, equaling her volume to his, hurting him with her demure acceptance regarding the hushed up loss of their child.

Holding him at bay emotionally, an argument that never lived enough to break free - that's how it had started then, his sleeping disorder, always worse when she had just been up to see him, never alone after six years, always bringing Paul Jr., his mother Karen or Gertie, an almost desperate attempt of avoiding intimacy with him. Perry missed the spontaneity of their irregular weekends, when he had ravished her with his desire, feeling lewd and thirsty for her love.

"I need to see you, darling," Perry flirted with her as soon as he picked up the phone one late afternoon, leaned back into his cushions and closed his eyes to picture her right next to him."I miss you." He was ready to liven this phone call up. That was his remedy these days.

"You do?" her voice sounded surprised, then chuckled. "I didn't even know you expected my call."

"Laura," Perry Mason gasped, then laughed himself. "What a lovely surprise."

"Oh, now I'm disappointed, Your Honor," Laura Parrish teased him the way she always did. "Your welcome brought me right back to D.C."

"Still cherishing the memories?" Perry asked and wondered why this woman was so irresistible to him in spite of everything.

"Every day," she almost purred, then smiled audibly. "I really miss you."

"Why don't you come up to San Francisco?" Perry Mason gave back immediately. It had been such a long time since he'd last seen the Parrish family and the absence of Della's affection didn't really help him getting through his days.

"That's exactly why I'm calling," Laura beamed. "Max is going to have a business meeting on Friday and I've debated joining him with Kaitlynn."

"How is my little doll?" Perry queried, his voice betraying the deep love he felt for the little girl.

"She always asks about her uncle Perry," Laura admitted cheerfully. "Always gushing about the necklace you sent for her birthday."

"I can't believe she's already seventeen," Perry said with a touch of melancholy in his voice as he pushed away the grief about the loss of his own unborn daughter.

"I know," Laura agreed. "Time flies." Then she paused and went on thoughtfully. "But how about you? How are you holding up?" Her voice was tenderly concerned.

"I'm doing fine," Perry reassured her by lying to himself. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, I don't know," Laura shrugged. "Darling, I miss you sounded so desperate."

"I'm not desperate," Perry Mason denied the correctness of her words.

"Are you sure?" Laura Parrish asked but understood his hesitation. "I don't recall you coping very well with withdrawal from that demure fire of yours."

"So you still refuse to refer to Della by name," Perry observed suspiciously.

"I told you I would until you finally introduce her to me," Laura answered honestly. "Not that I mind, but I'm beginning to feel like "the other woman"," she added mischievously. "Without the usual benefits of a tingling affair."

"And you wonder why I don't want Della to get the wrong impression about you?" Mason shook his head with a laugh.

"Oh, relax, Your Honor," Laura Parrish gave back good-humoredly. "I've learned to behave around you. I know your heart belongs to her." She paused and remembered that night about eleven years ago when she had seen Perry dance with the woman he loved so much. He had been oblivious to her presence and Max', completely absorbed by his companion, unable to hide the depth of his feelings for her. Laura bit down her envy, then went on. "And although you're quite tight-lipped about her, I have a feeling she doesn't particularly approve of your situation."

"I asked her to come with me," Perry Mason tried to argue his case before he knew what he was doing.

"I'm sure you did," Laura nodded. "The way you asked her to run your office while you had fun with me in D.C.?"

Laura Parrish's words hit him hard. She didn't know anything about Della but still knew how to pinpoint his failures with her with mind-blowing accuracy.

"How come you always make it sound as if we had a intimate relationship?" Perry started to get annoyed with her. No one but Della was allowed to put a finger in his wounds.

"I like to daydream a little," Laura teased him to cover her frustration with him. "Don't be cross with me, Your Honor. It's all in good fun."

"Does Max think so too?" Perry felt his body stiffen at the mere thought of Della having banters like these with another man.

"He's seen your demure fire," Laura returned matter-of-factly, remembering her husband's factual acknowledgment of Della's beauty as they had watched the couple dance. "He's not worried."

The silence that fell upon them was heavy and Laura couldn't help but break it with her usual cheerful charm. "So will I see you on Friday?"

"Pick me up at court," Perry answered quietly and nodded. He could never be angry with her after all. "Let's just not talk about Della."

Laura agreed and sensed the pain she had seen in his eyes all those years ago when he had tried to cure his heartache by kissing her instead. By the way he said goodbye she knew he would tell her eventually and she would wait. Even if it took another eighteen years for her to finally meet the woman who knew how to pierce and mend the great Perry Mason's heart.