Another pleasant valley Sunday. (Always good to get a Monkees reference in.) Chapter 13 of Shore Leave, and John is feeling lonesome. Aw...(I have the cure for that, Johnny, and I know where your room is...start oiling that telescope, baby)

Mega hello to JS as it's her birthday today, 14 Nov. Scorpio, just like John Tracy- a sting in the tail but a cute way of doing it.

Re: ffic net's ratings system. It's so funny how you can have your characters blaspheming and swearing and killing each other but you can't mention various parts of the anatomy in a loving act of intimacy. So I have to take out all the NC-17 references to ***** and *******, (not to mention ******* ***** and **** ***) and descriptions of bodily fluids. I mean, come on, we all know what's going on ;-) Having said that, if anyone feels I'm pushing it too far (heh) please give me a heads up (heh again). Thank you!

There are no #### scene-breaks in this chapter because I figured it was all basically one scene centred around John's POV.

Please do review if you can spare a minute or two, I've seen a lot of story traffic, which is fantastic, and I'd be thrilled if some people who hadn't reviewed before would let me know if they're enjoying the story or are just thinking "eeeeew!" ((^_^))

Red Hardy, please give your new puppy a big loving hug from me, but tell him or her that Teobi is really missing his mommy's brilliant reviews! xx

Disclaimers: TV-Verse, Rated M for sex and swearing, all Thunderbirds characters are someone else's, all Ocs are mine...ALL MINE!Cackle...cough. (Anyone got a Lube...er, I mean a Strepsil.)

####

John slept for over an hour. When he woke up his back was stiff from sitting in the chair. He got to his feet and stretched, rotating his neck and shoulders, feeling muscle and bone grinding together. God, he was hungry. He went back to the kitchen and decided to make himself a proper meal.

While he was stirring pasta, his phone started ringing in his hip holster. His heart started pounding even before he saw that it was her.

"Hello," he said, feeling the silly grin spreading over his face.

"Hi, baby. I hope you don't mind me calling. Tell me if it's not a good time." Her voice sounded low and husky. Vaguely he wondered if she'd been drinking.

"It's a good time, honey," he smiled. "I'm just fixing myself something to eat."

"Something nice?" She pronounced the word 'nice' as a long seductive drawl.

"Just pasta with meatballs."

"Mmm. Meatballs," she chuckled.

"You like meatballs, huh?"

"I like your meatballs, John Tracy," she purred.

John laughed delightedly. Whether she'd been drinking or not, he didn't care. She was in a frisky mood and he loved it.

"Like 'em spicy, huh? Hot and spicy?" he teased, lowering his own voice to a soft murmur.

"Mmm. The hotter and spicier the better. Covered in thick, creamy sauce."

"Bet you can eat a whole one, can't you. Fit a whole one right in your mouth."

"You bet. I think I could fit two in, if I really tried."

"Now that's just plain greedy."

"I have a good appetite," she chuckled. "For meatballs."

"Honey, there are meatballs waiting for you, whenever you're ready." John gave the pasta sauce a quick stir, fished out a meatball and looked it over appraisingly.

"Sounds inviting. Save me a couple, won't you?"

"I got 'em right here. Keeping them warm for you."

Karen laughed. "You won't be able to eat your dinner now without thinking of me sucking on your meatballs."

"Sweetheart, I've been thinking about you sucking on my meatballs for four days, it's nothing new. So, what are you up to, lusty lady?"

"Oh, well...I'm eating chocolates from that gorgeous gift bag, which, oh my God, has really kept me going. Brandy, champagne, chocolates, cakes...I'll never have to go food shopping again."

"I like to keep my ladies happy," John grinned. He tasted the pasta sauce and added more pepper.

"Ladies? Watch it buster, those meatballs are mine, now."

"Baby, I swear I'll never dish up my meatballs to another woman again."

"That's better. So, um...whatcha doin' after dinner? I've got some crappy movie to watch, but I'd rather talk to you."

"Well," John said, struggling to strain pasta with one hand while he held the phone to his ear with the other, "I was thinking, we need to get on the webcam and make visual contact. You know." Boiling steam rose from the strainer and scorched his face. "Ow, shit..." he muttered. "Burnt myself."

She laughed. "See? I'm not the only lousy cook."

"It was steam, off the pasta. Don't worry, I'm in total control of this situation. Anyway, what do you say? Want to hook up later? Like a date?" John strained the pasta and poured it all onto a plate. There was so much of it that it spilled over onto the counter. He picked up the overspill and chewed on it while he stirred the meatballs a couple more times then heaped them on top of the pasta mountain. There was no way he could carry the overflowing mess to the table, so he just stood at the counter and started eating with a spoon, scooping food from the edges of the plate where it was less hot.

"Sure, like I'm going to say no? You can show me your meatballs."

John coughed abruptly, spitting a lump of pasta onto the counter. "Honey, warn me when you're going to say something like that, I nearly choked!"

Karen giggled. "Well, what's a webcam for, sweetie? You just give me a couple of hours to get ready and I'll surprise you."

"A couple of hours? What, are you gonna hire a band?"

"No, I'm just going to get all dolled up for you. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Dolled up, huh. You mean like in a negligee and stuff?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'm a little short on negligees. I was thinking maybe just body lotion and a big smile."

John choked again. "Holy shit."

"Mmm. Maybe I can put on a little show for you."

"It doesn't take a couple of hours to put on body lotion," John said, pushing his food around to get the sauce evenly distributed over the pasta. "Can't we do it now? Or um...in half an hour?" He'd need to change out of his uniform, and fast. Or maybe just take it off altogether. Put on a little show of his own.

"Eager little bunny, aren't you?" she chuckled.

"Honey, I'm getting a hard-on just thinking about it."

"Oh, my." Her voice went all breathless. "I wish I was there to take care of it."

"Jesus, Karen..." John was eating without really tasting anything now. He shovelled the food down his throat, needing to fill the rapidly expanding gap inside him.

"John, the noise of you eating in my ear is really gross."

"I'm going as fast as I can," he replied through a slushy mouthful of meatballs.

"Yes, I can tell. It sounds like a hog rooting through mud. Shall we set a time for our date and meet up then? I don't want to upset your dinner. I know how obsessed you are with eating right."

"Okay, baby, one hour from now. Is that good for you? One hour."

"One hour it is. You've got all my details, haven't you?"

"I have. I can set up a connection no problem. All you have to do is make sure your camera's on."

"And my clothes are off." She snorted with suppressed laughter.

"Oh God, yes. Clothes most definitely off." He blinked, shook his head at the image his mind was already conjuring up. This day had definitely taken a turn for the better!

"Okay then, baby. I'll see you in one hour, okay? One hour. And don't forget, I want to see those meatballs." She gave another soft, throaty laugh and hung up the phone.

John exhaled the breath he'd been holding. His ear was burning- whether from the phone or her dirty talk, he wasn't sure. All he knew was, he had a date in one hour and he'd better make sure he was ready for it.

He scooped food into his mouth until he couldn't bear to eat any more. Not one to waste anything, he scraped what was left into a tupperware bowl, snapped the lid on and put it in the fridge. Then (after cleaning up) he went back to the communications console just to check that he hadn't missed anything. It was quite unusual for it to be this quiet, especially considering the size of the planet, but it did seem as though the world's emergency services were coping well enough without the aid of International Rescue so far. Which was a good thing, he decided. Especially now that he had a date in one hour. Well, fifty minutes to be precise.

John was about to head back to the living quarters when a signal started bleeping. His heart lurched, but then he realised it was the signal that said Base was calling. Probably just dad checking in. He went back to the console and switched the monitor on. His father's face appeared instantly. Jeff was sitting at his desk looking relaxed and calm.

"Hello, John," he said in his smooth, deep voice. "Is everything okay up there?"

"Why, sure dad," John answered. "Very quiet, in fact."

"Guess I ought to 'touch wood', as they say. Trouble usually comes in threes. As soon as we get one call we'll get another half dozen hot on its trail."

"Er, yes dad."

"Well, son, the other thing I wanted to say was, I'm sorry I didn't really get the chance to see much of you this time. I didn't ask you about your vacation as much as I would have liked. You were here there and everywhere after you got back, and you know how hard it is to get a word in edgeways in this house."

"I know, dad. I'm sorry." John shifted awkwardly on his feet.

"Oh no, John, there's nothing to be sorry about. I just wanted you to know that I was glad to have you back and it would have been nice to have spent a little more time with you before you went up to the satellite, but there you go. I guess that's the way the cookie crumbles."

The cookie crumbles? What was his dad talking about? "Yeah, I guess so."

Jeff laughed heartily, startling John somewhat. "Talkative as usual, John. Getting conversation out of you is like squeezing blood out of a stone."

Oh God, was it conversation his father wanted? "I thought you were just checking in," John said without thinking.

"Well, yes, I am checking in, John. But I haven't seen you for weeks, not really. I was starting to forget what you looked like." Jeff gave a great belly laugh again.

"Gee, thanks dad." Well, then maybe you should send Scott or someone else up here for a change.

"Oh, John, I'm only joshing you," Jeff grinned, sounding unnervingly like Alan. "So tell me about your vacation. Was The Walburn up to standard? They still have that doorman, Arnold. Right?"

John sighed, sat down in the chair. Dad had some internal radar that told him exactly when it was the wrong time to engage one of his sons in 'conversation', and he did it all the time. He figured he could spare his dad twenty minutes and then he'd have to make up some excuse. The he saw the quarter-full brandy glass, just at the corner of the screen. He chewed the inside of his lip. What was it Scott had said? Wait until he's had his after dinner brandy. Well, his father was on the brandy now, and he seemed chatty and in good spirits. John looked at his watch. He still had forty five minutes.

Jeff was still talking about the standard of excellence and past members of staff at The Walburn, although to John's relief he hadn't yet mentioned the bath in the executive suite or how many other Tracys had partaken of its unique features. John cleared his throat, waiting for a gap in his father's monologue. When it finally came, he grasped the mettle with both hands.

"Dad, I met someone," he interjected.

"And then of course, there was George Medley. He worked there in '42. He was a wonderful character. I remember..."

"Dad." John tried again. "I met someone."

"Hmm? I beg pardon?" Jeff blinked. "Did you say something, John?"

"Yes, dad. I said I met someone. I met a woman." John felt his throat tighten and go dry. Pull yourself together, Tracy, he told himself, not for the first time. He stared at his father's image, determined not to avert his eyes in any way.

"Oh?" Jeff said, at long last.

John swallowed. God, was that all he was going to say? "Oh"? What was the appropriate response to that? "Yes, I met a woman," he repeated, feeling like the world's biggest idiot. "I really like her, too. This isn't just a casual fling. I'm serious about her."

Jeff's eyes widened, then narrowed. "John, in all the years I've known you, you've never had a 'casual fling'. Or have you?"

In all the years...? I'm your son, for God's sake, not a business associate.

"Dad. Really, that's kind of my business. But I'm serious about this one. Really."

Jeff picked up his brandy glass and took a deep gulp of the brown liquid. John wished he had some too, but Thunderbird 5 was strictly an alcohol-free zone. Silently he watched his father drink.

"So, who is she? Come on, spill the beans." Jeff put his glass down and settled back in his chair, watching John expectantly with his shrewd blue/grey eyes.

It was no use, John needed to clear his throat. He coughed, cursing himself for displaying such a sign of insecurity and nerves. "Well, dad, her name is Karen. She works in a public library. I met her purely by chance when I went in to look for some books. We hit it off straight away. I ended up spending the rest of my vacation with her. She's not like anyone I've ever met. I really like her. I want to keep seeing her." I'm going to keep seeing her.

His father remained enigmatically silent for a few moments. Then John heard the older man audibly draw in a deep breath. "I see. And what else do you know about her?"

"She's a normal, regular girl with a normal, regular job and a normal, regular apartment. That's what I know about her, and that's why I like her. She's so darned normal."

"Normal, eh. And you know all this in, what. How many days?"

"Ah...two. And a half." John felt the urge to swivel the seat like a chastened schoolboy.

"All right, John. Well, you don't need me to tell you that two and a half days isn't really long enough to get to know someone. However, when I first met your mother the feeling was quite instantaneous- on both sides, as I discovered later. So, in that respect, I understand that you're probably feeling quite confused at the moment."

John blinked. "Ah...yes, sir. That's exactly how I'm feeling."

"Are you in touch with her now?"

"Um, yes, we talk on the phone."

"And it goes without saying that she knows nothing about our organization."

"No, sir. Not a peep."

"Good, good. That's one thing she must never find out. You need to get to know her a lot better than this if she's ever going to know anything about International Rescue. Of course, I shouldn't have to tell you that, John."

"No, sir. I know that. She doesn't know a thing."

"Well." Jeff toyed with the brandy glass. "This is a turn-up for the books."

"Really though, dad," John said, "I'm almost twenty six years old. It was inevitable that I'd meet someone someday."

"Yes, I realise that, John. And to be honest, I always thought that either you or Virgil would settle down first. Of course, at the moment it looks as though Alan's going to beat you all to it..."

John heard a noise then. Alan's voice, raised and complaining off screen. "Daa-aad!"

John frowned at his father. "Is that Alan? Has he been there listening all this time?"

Alan hove into view. He was wearing an eye wateringly loud orange, green and blue patterned shirt and a pair of canary yellow jeans with his wrist watch hanging from a belt loop. "Hey, John," he grinned cheekily.

"Well, look who it is. Joseph and His Unbelievably Hideous Dreamcoat."

"Hey, this shirt is Felix Fanshaw. Isn't he your favourite designer?"

John shot his baby brother a supercilious look down the length of his nose. "Felix Fanshaw went through a rotten divorce eight years ago. That thing you're wearing looks to me like a product of the months he spent living alone at the the bottom of a whiskey bottle answering only to the name Bernice."

"Well, one of the many advantages of being young and hip is that I can easily carry off this look," Alan replied smugly. "So, anyway, John, from what I've heard, it sounds to me like you've gotten yourself quite a catch."

"Dad," said John. "You should have told me that Alan was listening."

"John," his father said in a slow, deliberate tone, pouring himself another slug of brandy, "I'm assuming that since you've told me, you would've already told all the others. I'm assuming also that you probably already asked Scott for his advice before you even dared to broach the subject with me." When Jeff looked back up at the screen, John saw a definite twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "I wasn't born yesterday, you know. You think I didn't notice something was afoot?"

"You guessed?" John asked, knowing that he should never have underestimated Jefferson Tracy. You didn't get to be a world class businessman without a certain amount of intuition. And he was their father, after all.

"Not exactly. I thought maybe you'd lost a small fortune at the Casino or something and didn't quite know how to tell me I'd gone bankrupt." Jeff laughed out loud, a hearty chortle. "I didn't expect you to tell me that you'd fallen in love."

John swallowed. "Who said that I was in love?"

"Son, I saw it the minute you started talking about her. You got a look in your eye that reminded me so much of your mother when we first met. Like someone had just handed you the world on a plate and a jar of jellybeans."

John pulled a face. How much brandy had his father actually imbibed already?

"Well, I think it's great that Johnnyboy's found someone to love," grinned Alan. "Maybe it'll stop him from being such a grouch."

"Hey, little Miss Diva," scowled John. "Tell me again why you wear your wrist watch hanging from your belt loop. I notice it's a pretty small watch."

"Don't you know anything about what's in fashion?" Alan laughed, insolently flicking his watch up and down. "Besides, girls look at my watch, they look at my..."

"Alan, that's enough, thank you," said Jeff, jovially. "Why don't you and Gordon go down to the games room or something."

"Gordon's already in the games room. He and Scott are playing 'who's got the biggest weapon', as usual."

"Well, we already know who's got the smallest," quipped John.

"And we know whose has only recently started seeing the light of day," Alan retorted.

"Boys, that's enough now. You're giving me a headache. Alan, go and find something to do. Let me talk to John for a moment."

Alan knew not to push it. "Yes, father," he conceded. He winked at John one last time before he turned and left the room, no doubt off to the games room to harangue his other brothers.

"All right, John. The coast is clear," said Jeff, paying his third son his full attention. "Now listen to me, and listen good. Don't interrupt me until I'm done. What feels like love at first is actually infatuation, as I'm sure you know. It's easy to confuse the two, so I don't blame you for thinking you're in love. You feel like you're walking on air, and just the mere sight of them or sound of their voice is enough to make you jump for joy and forget everything else. But don't lose your head. International Rescue must always come first. Countless lives depend on us, and the space monitor is usually the first person they contact when they need our help. I'm not trying to deny your feelings or tell you that they're not important because I can see quite clearly that you've met someone that means possibly as much to you as your beautiful mother meant to me. But remember, always, that your first duty is to International Rescue. Don't lose your head, John. Promise me you won't lose your head."

"I won't lose my head, father. I promise. You know how dedicated I am to our organization. I'd never let anything jeopardise that. I'm a Tracy. International Rescue is in my blood."

"I know that, John. I just needed to hear it." Jeff raised his brandy glass. "Well, son, I'm sorry that you can't join me in a toast right at this moment, but when you're back on Earth, we'll have a drink together, man to man. I think it's wonderful news. I really do."

"You do?" John's eyes widened. "Well, gee, thanks, dad! That's great! Wow. That was actually a lot easier than I'd thought!"

"Hmm," Jeff smiled. He lifted his glass. "Of course, a little libation always helps. I must remember to thank Scott for the suggestion." He tipped his head towards the screen and took another hefty swallow of brandy.

John's mouth hung open. "Scott?"

"Yes. He's the one who thought a little alcoholic respite after dinner would benefit me greatly after the shaky week I've had dealing with the stock markets. He also thought it might be a good idea to catch up with you while it was quiet. I must say, I'm very glad I followed his advice."

"Scott set us up?"

"Well, I'm not sure that he set us up, exactly. But at least it's out of the way now. Eh?"

"I'll kill him!" John was fuming. He quite clearly told Scott he needed time!

"Now, why would you want to go and do that. If you hadn't told me, you'd only have stewed over it. Trust me, I've been exactly where you are. So you've told me now, and there's no problem. I'm happy for you. Most of all, I'm proud of you. All of you. Including Scott."

"Scott is toast," John muttered.

"Scott also knows you all far better than you know yourselves," Jeff said good-naturedly. "He wouldn't have made the suggestion if he hadn't thought it through first."

John sighed, relaxed his shoulders. "I guess." He chanced a look at the time. He still had fifteen minutes or thereabouts. Setting up a communication link to Karen's computer wouldn't be too much of a problem, although the security settings would have to be thought through. There should be absolutely nil chance of anyone ever being able to trace any contact of his back to Thunderbird 5 or Tracy Island. He could do it, but he also wanted to shower and get nicely dressed.

"Uh, dad?" He chanced. "Speaking of Karen, I ah, promised I'd call her kind of...well, now-ish. Would it be okay if I did that?"

"Secure channel?"

"Of course. I've been using my cellphone, which is untraceable anyway, but I wanted to set up an audiovisual channel via my PC. I can do it but I just need some time to get everything set up."

"John, make sure it's secure. I mean that. I'm being deadly serious now." The flash of warning in Jeff's eyes left his third son in no doubt that there would be hell to pay if anything went wrong.

"Safe as houses, dad. I promise."

"All right, John. Well, you go and do what you have to. Just be careful. Don't get carried away."

"No, sir, I won't."

"Well, then, all the best to your lady. I'll talk to you again tomorrow, barring any emergency."

"Okay dad. Thanks for understanding, you know. I thought it'd be a nightmare telling you, but actually it's a weight off my mind."

"Yes, I'm sure it is. Okay, John. I'll sign out now. Have a good night, son."

"You too, dad. Talk tomorrow." John's booted feet were already tapping impatiently on the floor.

Once Jeff's image had safely disappeared from the screen. John leapt immediately from the chair and ran to the living quarters, cursing Scott all the way, but also hugely relieved that his biggest fear had not come to pass. He stripped and showered quickly, leaving his uniform hanging neatly over the towel rail. He shampooed his hair, brushed his teeth. He ran a hand over his jaw, thinking he could get away with not shaving for now. His beard, such as it was, didn't grow nearly as quickly as Scott's or Virgil's, and the first two or three day's growth was usually just a fine dusting of golden hairs that were only really visible when caught by the sun. He hurried back to his bedroom and pulled on a blue denim shirt and cream trousers. He combed his damp hair back and splashed on cologne. He even smoothed down his eyebrows and checked his fingernails. He applied some moisturising cream to his face and lips to combat the drying effects of Thunderbird 5's air conditioning. Finally he checked his reflection in the mirror, rubbed a bit of excess cream from the corner of his nose, inspected his teeth. He decided he looked okay- he didn't think Karen would be disappointed.

He sat at his computer, checked the location behind him for any indication that he was on a space station or a member of the most secretive organization in the world. No mugs with the IR logo on them, he thought with a smile. No posters of Scott standing heroically at the hatch of Thunderbird One. Then he set about activating codes and passwords and firewalls. He didn't think Karen herself would ever try to trace his messages, but a stranger in a computer repair shop might. He would reroute any snoopers to a virus that would shut down the entire computer and render it inoperable forever. He would also put a failsafe in place that would terminate his link a split second before any emergency call came through so that Karen would never hear the words International Rescue.

The whole process took him a little longer than he thought, and by the time he was ready to connect with the object of his desire, he was already nearly fifteen minutes late. He ran both hands through his hair and took a deep breath. He keyed in several passwords in a specific sequence, then located her web provider and bypassed it. He was now using Thunderbird 5's own signal to get through to her. He tapped in her details and sat back, waiting.

Her voice came through first. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby, it's me. Sorry I'm a little late."

"Heyyy, John!" The relief in her voice was obvious. "I thought you'd forgotten!"

"Forgotten our date? Are you kidding? Just had a little family business to take care of. Anyway, everything's set up. Can you switch on your camera?"

"Sure, hold on."

The screen flickered, and then there she was, her face a little too close to the screen, her bright features gazing adoringly at him. "Hey there, handsome," she grinned. "Wow, look at you, you look good enough to eat." Her eyes flickered over him, drinking him in. He did the same to her.

"So do you, baby. You look fantastic. What have you done with your hair?"

"You noticed?" Karen sounded incredulous but pleased, running her hands self-consciously through her hair. "I just did a home colour, nothing crazy."

"It's beautiful, like the colour of flames. You're hot, kiddo. Boy, if I was there now..."

"Mmmm, you don't have to tell me. God, I miss you. Look at you. You're incredible, you know that? I just want to kiss you all over. And I mean, all over."

"I've still got that mark on my shoulder," John grinned, pulling his collar aside to show her the bruise that was only now beginning to fade. "Scott was very impressed."

"Was he. I hope you didn't do that macho guy thing of telling him all the gory details."

"No, baby. Some things are definitely best kept secret. Anyway, I didn't come on this date to talk about other men. What have you been up to?"

"Oh, just work and shit, boring stuff like that. Same as you, I guess." Karen was starting to stroke her collarbone, her fingers gliding just inside the neck of her silk blouse. "Want to see my breasts?"

John's eyes opened wide. Then he laughed. "Aw, no. Why don't you just tell me more about work?" He watched transfixed as she began unbuttoning her blouse, revealing a wisp of black lace.

"They've missed you," Karen said in a soft voice, peeling her blouse off one shoulder, revealing a black bra strap. Her skin gleamed in the muted light of her bedroom. John imagined the scent of her body lotion, maybe vanilla or caramel cream. His **** swelled, eager for some action.

Karen slowly peeled the blouse from both shoulders and let it fall. The swell of her breasts in their lacy restraints made him feel faint with longing. He was so desperate to touch her that he put his hand on the screen.

Karen began stroking her breasts, hooking her fingers into the lacy material. "You ready?" she teased.

John nodded, mutely.

She pulled the bra away from her breasts, exposing her pale nipples, which stood out like little bullets pointing towards him. Then she reached behind and unhooked her bra and deftly removed it, flinging it aside. "Ta daah," she said, jiggling those luscious globes up and down.

John was aware of the desperate sigh of longing that escaped from his lips. He felt his eyes go glassy, such was the single mindedness of his one solitary thought right at that moment. He unzipped his flies and wriggled his fingers inside. Jesus, he was about to jerk himself off to a webcam image of a woman removing her clothes.

Thank God he was in love with her!

Karen stood up, unfastened her skirt. It slid down over her hips and thighs, revealing matching black lace panties. "You like?" she asked seductively.

"Oh, yeah." John's fingers stroked gently up and down.

"Want more?" She swivelled her hips at the screen.

"God, yes."

Karen laughed. "Don't be impatient, you naughty boy." She disappeared off screen for a moment, then returned holding something in her right hand. "look at what I got," she purred, wagging the item at him. It was a male member shaped pink vibrator, with various little attachments. She switched it on. It began visibly vibrating.

John nearly came in his hand. He didn't know where to look- at her gleaming, bouncing breasts, or at the shiny vibrator that she was now rubbing over her stomach, making her abdominal muscles contract.

"Ooh, baby, this feels goood," she moaned. She dragged the head of the vibrator up over her breasts, teasing her hard little nipples. "Oh, John, baby, kiss my tits," she purred.

John's mouth fell open. Oh, sweet baby James, he thought through a haze of lust. His hand began stroking harder, occasionally squeezing himself to stop himself coming too soon.

Karen moved back towards the bed. She lay down over the edge, spreading her legs wide, giving John a clear view of her lacy gusset. She stroked the whirring vibrator along her inner thighs, twitching at the ticklish sensations. She lifted her head and gazed at him through her smoky eyes. "You like this, baby?"

"Oh, God, yes," John whispered.

She continued tickling her thighs with the vibrator while her other hand moved to her crotch. She began stroking herself through the material of her panties, moaning with pleasure, her full lips parted and glistening. "Oh, John, baby, I want you so bad," she sighed.

John leaned as close to the screen as he could get. His hand pumped faster. "Karen," he uttered, dazed.

"I know, baby, I know," she murmured. She pulled her panties hastily down her legs and kicked them away, and revealed herself fully to him, showing him just how aroused she was. The head of the vibrator hovered enticingly. "You want me, baby? Hmm?"

"Oh, God, yes, you don't know how much..." John half stood up from the chair, leaned his elbow on the desk, got a better grip on himself, pumped faster and faster. He didn't know how much more of this torture he could bear.

"Want to **** me, John?" Karen said silkily.

"Please, Karen..." He was on a hair trigger now, his mind spinning with lust. He watched eagerly as she lay back on the bed and plunged the vibrator right up inside, her legs spread as wide as they would go.

She arched her back, moaning loudly as the vibrating sex toy hit all her erogenous zones at once. She manipulated it deftly, writhing on the bed, biting the pad of her thumb to keep from screaming. "John, oh God, John..."

John could barely stay on his feet. He leaned right over the desk, his eyes glued to the screen. He pumped himself once, twice more, and then he climaxed hard, right under the desk and all over his hand. He kept pumping, spots dancing in front of his eyes, his gaping mouth dragging in air, grunting low in his throat. "Fuck," he uttered, "fuck..."

Finally, he fell back, spent, into the chair. He blinked rapidly, bringing his eyes back into focus. Karen was still pleasuring herself with the vibrator and he continued to watch avidly until she came with a howl of pleasure, bucking wildly on the bed, her vibrant hair whipping across her shiny cheeks.

John touched the screen, desperate to be with her as she calmed down from her explosive climax. He needed to be there, to hold her in his arms after the storm, to whisper in her ear that it was all right. He watched her lying there on her own, breathing heavily, her thighs wet and trembling. He watched her close her legs, covering up the most vulnerable areas of her body. He listened to her quiet gasps subsiding, her smoky eyes still unfocussed.

She needed him to be there.

"Karen," he said softly. "Karen, I love you."

Karen lifted her head and grinned. She looked exhausted. "I love you too, baby. I love you so much."

John put himself back inside his pants and zipped himself up. He felt satiated, yet unfulfilled. This was good, but not enough. They would not spend the night laughing and talking in each other's arms. He couldn't smell her sweat, her musky odour, or nuzzle his lips against her neck. Her silky skin and thick, tangled hair were out of reach. He kept his fingers on the screen, his eyes on her slender, naked form curled up on the bed. She looked so precious and fragile and vulnerable, so small and far away.

"I love you," he whispered, so low that he could barely hear himself.

####

To be continued...