Chapter Eleven- Circle, Parry and Strike

Rigsby and Grace never made it to dinner. They never even made it out of the House. Once they were out of gym, they fell on each other and forgot all about food. Grace pulled his tie over her shoulder, leading his head to hers as she reached up and greedily nibbled his lower lip between her teeth. Rigsby's hands caught her under her thighs and lifted her up against his hips, pinning her against the nearest wall. His fingers pushed inside the legs of her shorts and gripped the bare skin of her ass. She pulled him back by his hair as she panted for air. "Bed. Now," she whispered.

He grinned at her. "Why not the tub?" he asked playfully. She grinned back and held up her powdered hands to his face.

"Because I want to see where my hands have been on your body," she said.

They managed to get upstairs where Grace quickly got chalk all over his suit, his tee shirt, his boxers, and finally his skin. She left palm prints on his chest as she rode him. She left fingerprints on his back as he loomed over her and drove frantically into her body. And she left trails of white in his dark hair when she stroked his head lovingly afterwards.

He flipped her to her side and spooned against her back protectively, nuzzling his face into her long hair and wrapping his arms around her. She sighed happily and snuggled back into his warm embrace.

"I'll never get over watching you dance," he said.

She chuckled. "I'm nothing compared to the guys downstairs. They've been doing it for years in the best dance academies in the world. But Cherry kept inviting me over and the boys thought it was fun to teach a newbie. It was embarrassing at first, but the troupe is so easygoing and fun that I eventually just went with it. Liev was always my favorite. He was the only one I could touch that way and know it didn't mean anything."

She felt Rigsby's arms tighten around her. He whispered gruffly into her ear. "He's damn lucky he doesn't swing your way. Watching him touch you makes me want to kill him. Gay or not."

Grace giggled despite herself and turned in his arms to face him. "Are you saying I'm not allowed to dance anymore? That even touching a gay man will set you off? Honestly, Wayne. I come here to escape, not to get cheap thrills by groping men," she paused as her finger traced his lips. "Unless you become my partner," she added teasingly. He smiled and kissed her fingertip. "I'd never ask you to stop dancing. You're too beautiful when you move. Just make sure Liev keeps his hands to himself."

Grace gave him a mock scowl and he laughed throatily. "So to speak, I mean."

Grace pushed his shoulder so that he settled on his back before she started crawling slowly up his body, tracing the patterns of chalk on his skin as she went.

"What about me? Do I have to keep my hands to myself?" she asked sweetly.

Rigsby's chest made a rumbling sound as he watched her stroke the lines of white powder on him. "Are you kidding? If it wasn't illegal and creepy, I'd tie you to this bed and insist you ravish me day and night. Never ever keep your hands to yourself, Gray. Ever."

She looked up at him and smiled, stilling her hands. "Gray? Since when do you call me Gray?"

"Since now. I like your little nickname. Unless there's something else you'd have me call you," he said.

She giggled as she completed her journey and fastened her body to his. "Call me yours," she whispered before her kiss stole his breath.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jane and Cherry sat with a half-empty bottle of scotch between them as they talked for hours about nothing. After the last of the dancers had left for the night, she'd kindly asked him if he'd like to come to her office for a drink. She had responded beautifully to his confession about coming to see her. Just as he was about to beat himself up mentally for blurting something so stupid, she'd laughed and slapped his arm playfully.

"Don't you try your old tired lines on me, sailor. Your schmoozing flattery is wasted on a burlesque dancer. We're totally immune."

And now they were sitting comfortably on her Chesterfield sofa, sipping scotch and laughing at each other's childhood stories. Most of hers had been about growing up in Iowa. Most had included Grace in some way. He loved the way her dark eyes sparkled when she mentioned her sister's name. He told stories about growing up as an evangelist preacher's son, moving from town to town and watching his dad go to work on the locals. He chose lighthearted stories. God knows there were more than a few ugly ones, but he and Cherry seemed to have made an unspoken agreement. No sob stories tonight. He broke that agreement into a thousand pieces when he set his drink down and looked up at her. "Tell me about Tom," he said.

Cherry inhaled sharply and her eyes lost their joy. She looked at him for a long time before mentally picking up her rapier. Jane felt her do it. They were in for another fencing match with each other. This time he was prepared.

"You've been checking up on me," she said coolly, circling him and preparing for a strike.

"Yes," he answered. He wouldn't back off, nor would he attack first. He circled her as well.

"I see," she said, also setting down her drink, working out her strategy. "What did you want to know?"

"As I said, tell me about him. Tell me about your life with him. About what happened four years ago." Careful, he urged himself.

For the first time, Cherry looked uncertain. He watched her as she quietly examined every possible answer she could give him that would either deflect him or cause her as little pain as possible. Her eyes calmed when she arrived at her answer.

"I'll tell you," she said quietly. "But only under hypnosis."

Jane pulled back in surprise. Damn this woman, he thought. Just as soon as he thought he'd had her, she parried and struck in the one place he wasn't expecting.

"Hypnosis? Why do I need to hypnotize you first?" he asked lightly.

"A few reasons. Namely, I don't want to remember talking about it. You can make sure I forget, isn't that right?" she asked.

He nodded. "And the other reasons?"

"Are personal," she replied bluntly.

Oh, she was clever. Despite her unwillingness to elaborate, Jane knew damn well why she was asking to be put under. Most people were extremely uncomfortable about being hypnotized. They worried that once their guard was down, all sorts of embarrassing thoughts and memories would come pouring out of their mouths. They don't like being in the thrall of others. It eliminates their control. But not Cherry. Cherry understood that in giving up her control, she was also giving up any responsibility to anything she might say. She could admit to anything: hating chocolate, fearing spiders, wanting a divorce from Tom before he died…perhaps being attracted a certain blonde psychic. None of this would matter the minute he brought her out of it. These were all just random thoughts that everyone has. Hypnosis may reveal them, but the hypnotized person bears no accountability once they're exposed. The social contract by which they all lived insisted that he couldn't use this information for anything but his own curiosity. He chuckled at the ingeniousness of her ploy.

Her brows lifted expectantly. "Well?"

He took a deep breath and nodded his head. "If you insist."

He slid over, sitting so close to her that his leg brushed her bare knee. He took her by the hand and drew a breath, selecting his most lulling timbre of speech to relax her. But before he uttered a word, she put a finger to his lips and whispered, "After I tell you my story, I expect to hear yours."

She removed her finger and put both of her hands in his. "I'm ready," she said.

It felt like they'd come too far for him to back out now, even with her new condition, so he pushed ahead.

"Okay Cherry, I want you to relax…"