Wow, what a reaction to last chapter! Not only the hot cowboy sex...erm...um...where was I going with this?

Heh. Yeah. But also the reaction to Mike's teasing of Jack – wow. Thank goodness you couldn't get your hands on Mike, because I'm fairly certain he'd have had a new one torn for him by many of you. :) So protective of our Jacey! Don't worry too much about him, bbs – Jacey can hold his own.

-o-

Chapter 10

Jack

Tuesday morning gets off to a far better start, with no unpleasant surprises, no shattering glasses or tears. Before I leave, I stand at the door of my bedroom, debating whether Jacey, who already woke briefly when my alarm went off, would want me to wake him to say goodbye. After a moment's doubt, I decide he would. I approach the bed and stand there, for a moment indulging myself in just watching him sleep peacefully, nestled down beneath the soft duvet in the bed where he tossed me last night. I lean over the bed and gently stroke his cheek. He stirs a bit and presses his face into my palm.

"I'm leaving for work now," I whisper.

"Mmm, okay," he mumbles, eyes still closed. "Have a good day." His lips pucker and smack gently a couple of times, asking for a kiss.

I oblige, tenderly kissing him, then murmur, "Bye."

"Bye," is his barely-audible reply.

After several days of warm temperatures, the temperature has dropped overnight and the wind is howling this morning. I decide that it's just too damn cold to walk to the L, so I stroll to the front bay window and press the remote start for my Audi. On the street, the car's headlights come on, showing me that it's now running and will soon begin to warm up. I get bundled up into my coat, scarf and gloves, and grab last night's leftovers from the fridge. By the time I get to my car the needle on the temperature gauge is just beginning to edge upwards.

The day goes well. We make a lot of progress, and it's clear we're nearing the home stretch on this whole thing. At lunch I step away long enough to call Jacey and ask him not to make plans for dinner. I want to take him out for dinner, and then I have something special planned. I want to show him how much I appreciate him – both for what he did yesterday and for his simply being here with me in Chicago this week.

I don't tell him of the special plans, though. I just tell him I'd like to take him to dinner. He sounds delighted. "I'd love that! How fancy? What should I wear?"

"Well..." I mull that for a few seconds. "Not jeans, but not formal. Pants and a sweater should be fine."

"Is it downtown?" he asks.

"Yeah, a place my supervisor told me about. Why?"

"Well, you're already downtown. It doesn't make sense for you to come home, then go all the way back downtown. Why don't I take the L down there and meet you?"

It sounds tempting, and I certainly wouldn't mind not having the drive both ways. "I'm wearing my suit, though; I don't have a change of clothes."

"I'll bring your clothes with me," he offers.

"Yeah, I think that'd work," I agree. "In that case, just come to my office and I'll change here before we go out. You could arrive for 4:45 or so; I'll let one of my assistants know to put you in my office."

"Okay," he replies, then his voice sounds mischievous. "Hmm, this should be fun, picking out your clothes."

"Whoa, wait a minute," I object. "I didn't say that..."

"Jack?" he says. "What's that? I couldn't hear you...Jack? I think I'm losing you..." I can hear him perfectly, and I suspect he hears me just fine as well. He's obviously hissing into the phone, emulating the sound of static. "Jack, if you can hear me, I'll see you at 5..."

The line goes dead. Punk.

I grab my cell phone and quickly text him. You are in a mess of trouble, cowboy.

We'll see, is his nearly-instant reply.

Grinning, I send an email to Jenna and Susan, telling them to expect Jacey Dawes shortly before 5 today, and to please take him to my office to wait for me. As I head back to the boardroom, I can't help smiling at Jacey's playfulness as both his comfort level and confidence increase.

The afternoon seems to drag painfully. I check the clock often; every time, I'm frustrated by how little the hands have advanced since the time before. By 4:30 my foot is tapping repeatedly on the floor. More than once Mike peers at me, looking perplexed and curious. Finally, finally, 4:45 arrives and we begin to wrap up for the day, reviewing our progress and talking about what we'll work on tomorrow.

A few minutes before five we exit the meeting room, bidding Steven a good evening. Mike, as usual, accompanies me back to my office. On the way I mention to him that Jacey is waiting in my office, and so any confidential conversations he wants to have should wait till tomorrow. He looks surprised, then speculative, when I tell him Jacey's here.

I walk into my office expecting to see Jacey, but it's empty except for a garment bag that's lying over the back of one of my chairs.

"He's not here?" Mike asks curiously from the doorway.

"He has been," I reply, gesturing to the bag. At that moment I hear a loud burst of feminine laughter from the break room down the hall. I step out of my office and follow the sound, Mike close behind me.

There in the room is Jacey, surrounded by the Fab Five and a couple of the female brokers. They're all smiling and listening as he illustrates the differences in Texas accents. He's got them eating out of the palm of his hand – almost literally, in fact, as it looks as though he's come bearing a tray of pastries.

Jenna spots us watching from the doorway and says, "Oh, hey! There he is!" Jacey turns and when his eyes meet mine, the smile he flashes me is almost heart-stopping.

"You've met the Fab Five, I see," I tell him with a smile, striding into the room and joining the group standing around the table. I slide my arm around Jacey's waist, giving him a little squeeze of affection but keeping it office-appropriate.

"We're all ready to adopt him," Linda gushes. The older women in the group nod their heads, whereas the younger ones look as though adoption was definitely not what they had in mind.

I turn to introduce Mike, but realize he's still standing in the doorway. I turn back to Jacey and tell him, "Come on, you, before they demand my resignation and offer you my job." He blushes a bit, then waves goodbye to the women, telling them he enjoyed meeting them.

"Bye, Jacey!" The chorus follows us as we retreat toward the door.

In the hall I introduce Jacey to Mike, telling Jacey that Mike is the firm's lawyer. They shake hands with a simple, "Nice to meet you." It's not terribly enthusiastic on either side – but it's polite and civil, at least.

Jacey turns to me and says, "Your clothes are in your office, but I noticed the floor-to-ceiling window beside the door doesn't make it very private for changing..."

"No, that's true," I chuckle, feeling light-hearted now that he's here. "I'll take the bag to the executive washroom – it's private."

"What are you guys up to tonight?" Mike asks

"Just out for dinner," I reply casually, not wanting Jacey to suspect that I have more planned. I take Jacey's hand and we start to head towards my office. Andrew rounds the corner a few yards away, stopping when he realizes he hasn't met my companion. I introduce him and Jacey, and this introduction seems much more warm. Andrew seems a bit surprised but is very cordial. I hope he doesn't mind me having Jacey here.

After Andrew wishes us a good night, we continue on our way to my office. Mike comes in long enough to get his coat and gloves. He turns to Jacey and says, "It was nice to meet you, Jacey. I'm looking forward to Thursday night. Jack," he addresses me, "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a great night, guys." We wish him the same, and he disappears down the hall.

A few seconds after Mike leaves, Jacey turns to me and whispers, "What's Thursday night?"

I tell Jacey that I was thinking perhaps we could go out to one of the clubs Thursday night – something I wouldn't normally do on a weeknight, but it'll be nearly the end of the week, and I don't particularly want to spend Friday night, our last night together, at some noisy, packed nightclub.

Jacey agrees. "Sounds good. And Mike's going to go with us?"

I explain to him about yesterday, how Mike sensed something was wrong and how when he understood that yesterday was my dad's birthday, he was very sympathetic. Jacey listens thoughtfully, murmuring, "That was kind of him," when I tell him about Mike offering to take me out for a drink. I'm careful to highlight that Mike was very clear on our boundaries, that he asked me because he thought I could use a friend. No way do I want Jacey to get a false impression of where things stand between Mike and me. Not ever, but especially not tonight. "Mike is becoming my friend," I finish up. "I wanted my friend to meet my..." I pause, looking for the right word. 'Boyfriend' isn't it.

"Long-distance relationship?" Jacey offers.

I shake my head, realizing what I want to say. "My favorite person."

Jacey's beautiful lips stretch into a smile. "I'm your favorite person?"

"Definitely," I reply. We gaze at each other for a moment. I'd love to gather him into my arms right now; but knowing we're at my place of business holds me back. "I'm going to go change," I finally say, breaking the spell between us. He nods, watching as I pick up the garment bag. As I carry it to the door I remember that I have no idea what's inside it. "That reminds me," I mention, turning back to him. "So sorry to hear you were having cell phone reception difficulties this afternoon." I raise one eyebrow and give him a pointed look.

For his part, Jacey returns my look with wide eyes. He slides his hands into his pants pockets, his lips pucker and he starts to whistle softly. He slowly turns and walks towards the window, still whistling innocently. He is not even going to try to deny it. I have to turn and leave before I break out laughing at his studied nonchalance.

Ten minutes later I'm returning to my office, wearing the clothes he chose: black flat-front pants, and a sky-blue cashmere sweater. He even thought to include a change of socks and underwear, and for the socks in particular, I'm grateful. I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb in this sweater, though. Even though it's a reasonably pale color, it's still brighter than the neutrals I usually wear. It was a birthday gift from my mom last year - I'm intrigued as to why Jacey chose it.

He's sitting in one of my chairs, leafing through a magazine when I walk through the door. As soon as he sees me, the magazine drops to the table unheeded. "Wow," he breathes reverently. Having him around is incredibly good for my ego, I must admit. He rises from the chair and walks slowly to me, saying, "I knew that sweater would bring out your eyes but Jesus Christ, you're gorgeous."

"Thanks, sweet boy," I whisper in his ear, hedging against anyone walking past the door and hearing the endearment. "Let's get out of here so I can say hello properly."

Thank goodness for tinted windows. The second the car doors slam, we're in each other's arms, kissing, stroking, touching. It feels like a reunion, despite only having been away from him for about nine hours. He moans into my mouth and every time our lips part he tells me how sexy I am, how much he wants me. Fuck, I want him too...but I also know there's no way we can do this here, in the parking garage of my office. Tinted windows or not, it's simply out of the question. Plus, we have dinner reservations for six-thirty, and there's something I want to show him before we go to dinner.

Reluctantly, then, I pull back a bit, willing myself not to give in to his protests. "Jacey," I sigh, "we have to...not here..." He groans, but it's obvious he understands. He pulls away slowly and rests his head on the seatback behind him. I take a moment to catch my breath and allow some blood to return to my brain before starting the car. We don't speak, each of us concentrating on reining in our lust as I pull out of the garage and head east towards the restaurant on North Michigan. The restaurant, the Park Grill, is part of Millennium Park. The entire park looks pretty cool, but I particularly want to see the Cloud Gate, so far only having seen it in pictures.

At a stop light, I casually pull my smart phone out of my pocket. I continue my conversation with Jacey, making it look as though I'm simply glancing at an incoming email. In fact, I'm scrolling to his number in my address book and pressing "Call Jacey". I cock my head to listen, and a few seconds later a song plays softly from Jacey's phone, inside his coat pocket.

Jacey pulls his phone out of his pocket automatically when the music starts, but upon realizing what song it is he peers at it with confusion. "Oh...oh!" he says, realizing it's me calling him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm listening to my ringtone," I grin, amused and pleased at his choice – a recent remix of Lover Man by Sarah Vaughan.

He blushes deeply and silences the ring. "You know what it was?" he asks, sheepish.

My smartphone still in hand, I dial to the same song in my MP3 list and play the first few seconds of it. While he's still embarrassed, he also looks pleased that not only do I know it, I like it well enough to have it myself. "So you approve of my choice, then?" he asks hopefully.

"Love it." I slide my phone back into my pocket and reach the center console to take his hand, and he beams at me.

The parking garage is underneath Michigan Avenue, and the garage exit brings us up to street level across from the restaurant and sculpture. Though it's still quite cold, the wind, fortunately, has died down and the evening is pleasant. The expansive silver dome of Cloud Gate rises above the restaurant. We cross the street and the plaza, then stroll hand-in-hand up the stone steps to where the stunning, glossy sculpture rests in the middle of the park, reflecting the city and the sky around it. Being close to it is surreal. It looks like liquid mercury, impossibly suspended in time. The sky is so blue and the sculpture's surface so perfectly reflective that it is difficult, standing close, to see where the sculpture ends and the sky begins.

Jacey and I release each other, each taking our own path, meandering in silent wonder around the base and through the arch of the massive bean-shaped sculpture. The reflections change and distort with each small movement. There are others here, and yet not a word is uttered. Every one of us is stunned silent by its simple beauty. I feel like I could remain here for hours without tiring of gazing at the mirror world that plays on the sculpture's surface.

As I look up into the bean's navel during one slow pass under the arch, I see Jacey's reflection smiling back at me. Disoriented, I blink and look around me before I realize he's standing only a few feet away to my side. I smile and hold out my hand to him. As he joins me, he whispers almost inaudibly, "Stunning." I can only nod in agreement.

We stand together looking up into the navel for a few moments, till I realize I should probably check my watch. As it turns out, our reservations are in five minutes. "Hey," I murmur into his ear, which is already, conveniently, very close. "As much as I hate for this to end, we have dinner reservations."

Jacey nods slowly. As we begin to emerge from the arch, he reaches out with his free hand to glide his fingertips across the smooth surface one last time. I wrap my arm around his shoulders and lead him away, back down the stone steps to the plaza. He looks confused when we don't continue towards the street, but I explain, "This is the restaurant."

He grins. "Well, that's convenient."

Dinner is every bit as fantastic as Andrew told me it would be. We each start with a salad, then Jacey has steak and frites and I have mushroom risotto. For dessert we split a crème brulée. Jacey does the honors of wielding the spoon for both of us, discreetly feeding me tastes of the sweet, rich custard. It is sexy as hell.

By the time we're finished dinner, it's shortly after eight. I still have one more place to take Jacey this evening. We walk south on Michigan, past the Crown Fountain, which, though the water doesn't run at this time of year, still displays the faces of nearly a thousand Chicagoans on the surface of the two fifty-foot-tall towers. On the next block is a particular art gallery. It's open until 9 this evening and there's a current exhibition of the work of a Columbian artist. Though I know very little about art, I know what Jacey has told me - he loves contemporary Latin American art. I hope this particular exhibition falls into the category of what he likes.

Inside, we find that the collection in question is rather small and for a moment I'm disappointed that there's so little to look at – or at least, my untrained eye believes that to be true. Jacey, on the other hand, spends a full half-hour gazing at five paintings. Five. I spend about thirty seconds on each one and I've seen all I need to see. I make my way to a bench in the middle of the open floor and watch Jacey stare rapturously at the small collection. After ten minutes or so I get up and make my way to the gallery's gift shop, finding more there to interest me than in the gallery. Finally Jacey joins me, chattering animatedly about governments and political statements and the blending of techniques from different cultures. He follows me around the shop, barely stopping for breath. I simply listen, smiling indulgently as I realize how thrilled he is, how much of a treasure he believes this small group of paintings to be. Whether or not I understand the draw to the work, Jacey is happy. I really don't need to know anything beyond that.

After five minutes or so he seems to run out of words. He drifts away from me, moving around the shop on his own, coming to stop in front of a jewelry case. He stands staring for long moments. Finally I have to see what has caught his eye. Joining him, I ask, "Find something you like?"

"Hmm?" He blinks, looks at me, then looks back to the case. "Oh. Look at that." He's looking at a unique carving from what looks like a single piece of gemstone. The carving is a long tendril that curls around itself several times. The surface is shiny, almost black but the ends of the delicate curls, where the carving narrows to a thin tip, are nearly translucent green. The work that must have gone into that one unique piece is pretty impressive.

"Excuse me," Jacey beckons the employee. "What kind of stone is this?"

"It's jade," the woman answers pleasantly.

"Jade? Really?" I ask curiously. "I thought jade was used by the Chinese."

She smiles kindly. "Most people associate jade with China and Korea. In fact, it also exists in Guatemala. The Maya used jade in a variety of ways. It was very useful to them because it's an extremely hard stone, and they also viewed it as divine, even more precious than gold. They not only carved it for their ritual tools, but they used it to make tools for everyday use as well."

"Wow," Jacey replies. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome. If you have any more questions don't hesitate to ask." She turns away, returning to the cash to help a customer.

We both gaze for a few moments longer, and then from out in the main gallery we hear an announcement. "The gallery will be closing in ten minutes." A sudden inspiration strikes me, but I have to get Jacey out of here and get far enough down the street if it's going to work.

"Guess that's our cue," I tell Jacey, slipping my hand into his. We leave the gift shop and gallery, heading back up Michigan toward the parking garage. We get partway up the street when I stop, patting my coat pockets. "Damn it, my gloves," I tell Jacey. "I must have left them on the bench inside the gallery."

"We'd better run," Jacey says, glancing behind us. "They're going to close soon."

"Tell you what." I hand him my keys. "We're already this close to the garage - why don't you go ahead and get the car, and you can drive it back here and pick me up." His eyes light up – he knows I don't often offer to let people drive my car. I hand him cash for the parking garage as well. He continues on towards the elevator to the parking garage.

Knowing full well my gloves are in the breast pocket of my coat, I hurry back to the gallery with only a few moments to spare before they close. Back into the gift shop where the employee asks, "Did you forget something?"

"I want to buy this," I indicate, urgently pointing to the carving. It's already in a small gift box in the display. I glance anxiously out the front window to make sure Jacey hasn't arrived. I don't want him to see me in the gift shop. The woman understands my anxiety and hurries to get the sale completed quickly. I decline a gift bag and simply slide it into my pocket.

"I think you made a great choice," she smiles, handing me the receipt, which I tuck into my wallet along with my credit card. "He seemed pretty taken with it."

"I hope so," I confess. "He thinks I came back to get my gloves. I want to surprise him." She nods her approval and I thank her before leaving the gift shop again.

My gloves in hand, I step out the front door of the gallery just as my Audi rolls up in front of me. Jacey starts to unbuckle his seatbelt, but I open the passenger's side door and get in. "Why don't you drive?" I offer.

He looks incredulous, but answers, "Sure, if you navigate."

Jacey is a good driver – appropriately cautious but certainly not intimidated by driving. He treats my car as if it were his own, and by the time he parks and turns off the car on the street in front of my building he's glowing with enjoyment. "I could get used to this," he enthuses.

I stretch my arms over my head. "Me too. I think a chauffeur is what I'm missing in my life."

Jacey takes advantage of the situation to quickly dive in to tickle my ribs, growling, "A chauffeur, huh?"

"Hey! No fair!" I yelp, shielding my ribs. His attack rebuffed, he tries for a moment more to reach my ribs again. When he finally gives up we both slump back into our seats, laughing loudly. Tonight Jacey has given me so many reasons to be happy – charming my friends and coworkers, sharing the Cloud Gate experience with me...he fits into my life here almost effortlessly.

"Come on," I tell him when we've caught our breath. "Let's get inside." Outside the car he laces his fingers into mine for the short trip into the apartment. Once inside, I kick off my shoes then head straight to my room, slipping the gift box into my night table drawer before Jacey can see it.

After hanging up my coat in the hall closet I turn to find Jacey standing before me. "Jackie," he murmurs, situating himself into my ready embrace, "thank you for tonight. I had an amazing time. The sculpture, dinner...the art gallery! Did you know that showing was there?"

"I went online, trying to find something I thought you'd like. You mentioned contemporary Latin American..."

His mouth opens slightly, his face portraying happy wonder. "You found it for me?"

I nod. "I'm sorry they didn't have more to look at. I didn't know how small the collection was—"

I am abruptly silenced by Jacey's fervent kisses. His fingers lace together behind my neck, locking us close. My tongue finds its way into his beautiful welcoming mouth; my arms wrap around his waist to pull his hips as tight to mine as I can. Rather than dragging him straight to my bed, I back him against the wall, holding him captive there, and begin a slow teasing descent down his neck. Little soft gasping sounds escape him when I hit a particularly sensitive spot; he whispers my name, encouraging me.

Our foreplay goes on forever. One item at a time, our clothing gradually finds its way to the hall floor, eventually paving a path from the closet where we started, to the soft, plush area rug on my bedroom floor. As each item is removed, the now-bare skin is explored with hands and tongues and lips, slowly, tauntingly. Even when I look deep into his eyes and take him, it is unhurried and transcendent – as much like a spiritual congress as a physical one. Two bodies shudder and undulate together, seeking, pressing, desiring. The seraph beneath me sanctifies our union with his murmurs of affection and encouragement; when he comes, a moment before me, he does so without a sound. His eyes closed, his mouth open in a silent scream, it is as though he is refocusing his energy back into itself. All at once I am drawn into that exquisite pleasure, and together we're lost in it.

Later, after he has kissed the rug burns on my knees and insisted on putting ointment on them, we lie together in my bed. Propped on pillows, I spoon him, relishing the feel of his smooth body resting against mine. I am close enough to my night table that I can simply reach behind me into the drawer without disturbing our position. I silently retrieve the small gift box and present it to him, placing it on the bed before him.

For a moment he neither moves nor speaks, then he picks up the box and holds it, turning it over in his hands several times without opening it. Just before he's about to pull the lid off, I close my hand over his, holding it closed momentarily. "Thank you for yesterday," I whisper. "Thank you for tonight. Thank you for..." I can think of a hundred things I could name individually. "Thank you."

I release his hand and after a short pause, he opens the box. The fine jade tendril lies on its bed of soft cotton batten. I marvel at how its delicate beauty belies the strength within, and remember the divinity some cultures believed the stone possesses, how precious it is. In many ways, a reflection of the boy now holding it.

Jacey is silent as he picks up the carving from the box. For the first time his fingertips explore it, gliding over the smooth, cool surface. He slides the curls over his baby finger, like a ring; he touches the fine-pointed ends. Finally, after long moments, he speaks. "I can't believe you did this."

I don't answer, soaking up his obvious, unspoken pleasure. Eventually he turns over in my arms and kisses me deeply. We slide down the pillows, deeper into bed, and there we fall asleep, each of us still clutching an inestimable treasure.

-o-

Many thanks to OnTheTurningAway for her invaluable help with the Cloud Gate & Millennium Park geography! It wouldn't have been the same without you. :) Pics of the Cloud Gate sculpture (aka "The Bean") and of the jade carving are on my blog.

In the coming week I'll be contributing a Slash Author's Guest Recs submission to the TwiSlash Unveiled blog! Check it out for my favourite slash and non-slash Twific recommendations.