All we are, or that we think we are, all that we are certain about, is taken away from us. When you've worked the streets and seen what I've seen, you become more and more convinced of it every day. The city has been my teacher, my mistress. From the moment I opened my eyes, she is in my blood, like cheap wine. Bitter and sweet, tinged with regret. I'll never be free of her, nor do I wanna be, for she is what I am. All that is, should always be.
The Citroen swooped down the narrow, twisting streets from Tom Zarek's house. The night sky stretched above, a blanket of stars that seemed to fill the car's blackened interior too—just the few lights of the dashboard and the strobe of the headlights lit their journey.
"Oh, I love this song," Bill said huskily, breaking the thick tension of their ride. He turned up the volume.
A singer was urging a dream merchant to bring his baby back to him and make all his dreams come true. As Laura nestled her head on the leather seat back, the cool evening air from the open roof stirring her curls, she murmured, "I know this one—"
Saturday nights in junior high, the first boy/girl group dates at the local roller rink. Skating around and around under the colored lights and sparkling disco ball, her hand in Keith Hampton's back pocket, his in hers...Her laugh was low and throaty. She didn't understand her feelings and urges any more this moment than she had on those summer nights.
Bill began to sing along, his raspy off-key rendition somehow melding well with the earnest falsetto of the performer. Laura smiled; it seemed he was a man with few inhibitions...A shudder passed through her body.
When he sang, "Now I need her by my side," Laura took that as an invitation and slipped from under the seat belt to snuggle close. His arm came around to lay across the seat back, making it easier to lie her head on his shoulder.
The next singer suited his voice better. "Ah, poor Teddy," he lamented. But he joined the warm tones begging the woman to come go with me; come on over to my place. The music flow through Laura's limbs, bringing oxygen to her light head. Like the song, Bill's car had been right outside, waiting to go. She'd made some hurried excuses and goodbyes to Ben and Billy. Only Dee's eyes had been all-knowing; Billy's were only for his date.
"You won't be any under kind of pressure; we'll just let the evening flow..." husked Bill.
She gave his cheek a chaste kiss, smiling against his skin She felt anything but chaste though. She had never experienced this level of arousal. She was having trouble breathing, thinking; yet wild thoughts caromed around her skull—he should stop the car, right here, in the street, their clothes should come off...
She shifted closer to tightly cross her legs. Her knee pressed against his thigh. He cupped her kneecap and gave it a squeeze. He said, "Almost there," with a calmness that nearly made her scream. He changed gears, slowing the car, and she wished there was such a mechanism for her body as well.
Forcing herself to focus on the radio's music, Laura tried to name as many singers from her youth that she could: Aretha Franklin, The Commodores, Stevie Wonder...
He pulled into his driveway and stopped the car. She turned to look at him and all she could see in the dark was the glow of blue irises and the glisten of his damp lower lip. Surely he'd kiss her; she could feel the tension in his body too.
He hopped out of the car before she could reach for him. He opened her door, and slightly irritated—it was an emotion she was familiar with and could hold tight, like an old friend—she rose from the seat and strode to his house. He followed as closely as a sheepdog.
The door swung shut behind them, its deep wooden thud loud in the darkness. He didn't turn on any lights. From some room in the far reaches of the house, a faint beam of yellow light seeped into the hall.
Then he was on her, sure hands at her hips, pulling her flush to him, his mouth on hers. She whimpered with relief before grabbing fistfuls of his hair to keep their mouths as close as they could be without bleeding. He pushed her against the wall, and her fingers clawed at the oak wainscoting, as though she could find purchase in this ascent of her senses and arousal.
Finally gasping for breath, he tipped his forehead to hers. "Come on," he said, taking her hand.
At the foot of the stairs, she had a sudden, ridiculous shock—this was really going to happen.
"Isn't the library that way?" she asked, overtaken by the insane urge to tease him.
His mouth fell open; his eyes the saddest she'd ever seen them. But he actually took an unstable step down the hall. "Uh, yeah..."
She mounted the stairs, holding fast to his hand with both of hers, her fingertips nervously working across the back. He gazed up at her, questioning. She realized he'd do it. He'd give her an armload of books and drive her home at any point. It gave her amazing sense of power, despite his superior size and bulk in this dark house.
She tugged, just hard enough. "Later, we'll get them later," she said, amazed she could speak at all.
He remained still. "Are you sure?" he asked.
Her irritation was back. She didn't want any doubts from him; someone had to know what they were doing tonight and it would have to be him for this particular situation.
"Yes," she said in a very unseductive fashion, but for some reason, that seemed to reassure him and he climbed the stairs, his arm around her waist, drawing her upward with him.
Halting just inside the bedroom door, Laura couldn't stop staring at the bed. She didn't know beds came that large. Although it was almost dwarfed by the huge room, it still looked like an acre of mattress and dark green duvet to her.
His fingers stroked her wrap away, then her dress's zipper down as she stood frozen in place. The sleeves slipped forward and she held the garment to her chest before it could fall to the floor.
He came around to sit on the bed's edge and looked up at her with yearning-filled eyes, his hands gripping his knees hard enough that the knuckles were white. She could see his chest rising and falling as if he were running.
"Would you like the lights on?" he asked.
"Do you mind—" she said quickly. "No?"
"I don't mind at all," he replied just as quickly. "They boys on the force always called me Night Vision Adama—the best guy for a night stakeout. I'll be fine."
Her laughter burst free, causing her to bend over, curls toppling forward. She decided to release the dress. It slipped to the floor and she stepped out of it, wavering for a moment in her heels. She should take her shoes off, but for some reason, she couldn't remember how to do this simple task—she was nearly naked before a man. She froze like a deer, then remembered he was a night hunter and the giggle returned. But it died in her throat as he looked her body all over in what remained of her clothing, just like the sweep of a spotlight. She fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest and waited, suckling at her bottom lip.
"Come 'ere, beautiful," he murmured, holding his arms open for her. She eagerly moved into his embrace. He kissed under her chin, her throat right at her racing pulse, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts...
She took a deep, shattering breath and that lifted her breast up to his mouth. Through the delicate lace, his lips latched onto her nipple. She wasn't sure if she liked this new sensation, but from the groan at the back of his throat, she decided he did. His other hand went to her free breast and she was more comfortable with that; it was at least a familiar feeling.
Watching him suckle, she was reminded of all the Madonna and Child paintings and sculptures she'd seen and had to acknowledge this may be part of her discomfort. With his weathered face, rising stubble and wide shoulders that she was hanging onto for dear life, he was hardly a baby. Yet there was something religiously blissful about his expression...
His fingers were at her back, undoing her bra. When it went slack, she held it close, as she had with her dress.
He remained speechless, but the need was strong in his gaze. Giving her lips a quick swipe with her tongue, she dropped the bra. Not daring to look at her own nearly naked body, she welcomed his renewed caresses as a distraction from her embarrassment.
Unobstructed, the feeling of his tongue and lips on her bare nipple caused her breathing to speed up. She trembled in his loose hold. It tickled, but the tickle was traveling down her body to tug at her clitoris and something was tightening inside her lower belly. She needed a diversion...Her fingers yanked at his tie and ineffectually at his shirt.
He took a deep breath and sat back. "Sorry." His thumbs slid down her ribs, making her nipples tighten even more than she thought possible. And his gaze on her body wasn't helping either. She clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering; not from the cold, but the heat.
"I don't wanna hurt you, or scare you, in any way." His rumbling voice reminded her of the soul singers in his dark car. "I haven't asked 'cause it's none of my business, but we won't do anything you're not comfortable with."
He finally looked up at her. "How much have you done?" he asked.
She gave a ragged laugh. With her serious high school boyfriend, there had been touching and rubbing on the outside of their clothes only. They'd felt so wicked and adventurous at the time, and in a few short minutes, she'd advanced past any of poor Mark's accomplishments and certainly past any of her reactions.
She took his tie the rest of the way off. She wanted to touch his skin. As though reading her mind, he began to unbutton his shirt, but still watched her. He was waiting.
At last, she found the words. "Bill, virgin is a loaded word to a religious Catholic. It means more than one act to me. So I don't consider myself a virgin." Her voice caught. "I'm sexually inexperienced, that's all."
He nodded as though she'd asked him to agree to something before advancing and perhaps she had. "I'll tell you something about me too. I'm an old man—" He slipped his shirt from his shoulders and off, and to her frustration, she discovered he had a tee shirt on too. Grabbing it in her fists, she tugged it off. His head lost in the fabric, he continued. "I got all the time in the world. Whatever happens tonight, happens." He smoothed his hair back in place, a nervous gesture, she realized. "Nice and slow works fine for me."
"Don't worry, I'll keep off your lawn," she grumbled and his chuckle resonated through her chilled limbs. She was only half-listening anyway. She finally had some of his bare skin to explore. Her palms ran over his shoulders and down his wide back, bringing her breasts back to his mouth. Now he nosed under them, breathing in her tangy scent, his tongue sliding up the slope before nibbling delicately at the nub of her nipple.
Somehow, that aroused her much more than his aggressive caress had. She gasped, her fingernails turning into his skin, shocking her and him, and they groaned in unison. The tickle was now a throbbing between her legs in time with her heartbeat. She sagged into his hard body.
"Yeah, let's get you on this bed," he husked.
Easing her around, he helped her recline. With a quick kiss on her nipple again, he reached for her foot. "As pretty as these are, I'm sure you'd like them off," he said, easing her high-heeled shoe down. His thumb pressed on her aching arch and she rose off the bed in ecstasy.
"Thank you," she moaned and he chuckled again.
"Trust me, Laura. I know the way to a woman's heart."
She had no doubt at all to that fact as he did the same thing with the other foot, then massaged her ankle, her calf. Gazing at him through the curtain of her tousled hair, she took in his broad chest, wide rib cage, the glow of his skin, then the dark of his pants, with the tenting at the hips. Once again, she thought, this was really going to happen.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "When I was a boy, a good Catholic girl waited until marriage—"
His concern was very touching; her fist balled in the duvet to keep from thumping him in the shoulder. After getting control, she told him, "They did that because they wanted to be married more than they wanted sex. I want to be with you more than I want to be married."
When she heard her sharp words in the dark, she cringed. Except for the fact it was his house, she wouldn't be surprised if he didn't leave.
She could see his eyebrows were raised in the dimness. Then his now familiar chuckle came out. "All right, all right. I'll shut the hell up."
She relaxed back on the bed. Thank God!
Now if she could only find the courage to undo his pants...Thankfully, he did this for her, pushing them down and off in a practiced move.
Intrigued, she stroked his hip. His underpants weren't her father's saggy boxers or the white briefs of the little boys she'd babysit, but a snug, soft cotton boxer-length brief. Cupping his butt, she squeezed the strong muscles. Taking that as an invitation, he rolled atop her. Her head fell back. Yes, this is what she wanted; the weight of his body on her. Nipping at her neck, he sought the places where he'd gained the most reaction before. She writhed beneath him, loving the feeling of their bare skin moving together. Her seeking hands found little body hair, which fascinated her. She'd been a bit worried about a hairy man for some reason. Then her lower belly encountered the bulge in his underwear. His hips pulled back, taking away the contact.
She stared up into his eyes. With one shaking hand, she cradled his cheek. "Don't," she implored. With the other, she guided his hips back to meet hers. He rocked gently against her, the soft fabric and the hardening length beneath it sliding along the crease of her hip.
"You feel so damn good," he moaned, finally reaching for her panties. She got there first, pushing them down. He finished it, tossing them off into the darkness with another chuckle. Giggling in reply, she found such reassurance in his easy good humor at this time.
Then she realized she was completely naked. Her nervousness was back. She'd just become accustomed to being nude alone and now she was with a man...Her thighs clamped together. He rolled off, bringing her with him to lie side by side. He simply began kissing her again, their familiar, wonderful deep, drugging kisses.
Her limbs loosening, she draped her arms around his neck, lacing her fingers through his hair. He lifted her leg to lie it over his hip, and his palms made slow circles along her butt cheeks and long back. When he started to make shallow thrusts against her again, it as low enough to come in contact with her clitoris.
Her eyes snapped open and her breathing sped up enough to break their kiss.
Panting, he rested his forehead on her shoulder. "Laura, have you ever..." She could feel the blush on his weathered cheek.
She blinked, trying to clear the fog enough of grasp what he was asking. But while two minds were trying to come to an understanding, her lower body was grinding unashamedly on his. She finally comprehended what he was asking.
"Yes, I have," she whispered in his ear, and from the shudder that passed through his body, felt that power from the stairwell again. Words, and the tone that carried them, could excite this man. She squeezed handful of muscle—his bicep, the top of his shoulder, his lower back. This man...Her man.
He shoved down his underwear, but then she felt a rush of cold air as he rolled off of her. Puzzled, she pushed her hair back, looking for him. He was crawling across the wide bed toward the bedside table.
Trying to keep her impatience from her voice, she asked, "Where are you going?"
"Condom," he grunted, then peered over his shoulder at her. "Not doing anything without one."
"Okay," she said, feeling very out of her depth. He'd sounded like he expected a fight, but she wasn't a fool and had always had her own beliefs about condom use and the spread of disease, let alone pregnancy risk. In the cloud of passion, she had just discovered how easy it was to forget about these issues, but trust a cop to be protected.
One of those treacherous giggles escaped as she heard him frantically rooting around in the box. It sounded nearly empty. So much for fewer dates than a nun!
After a few more unfamiliar sounds transpired and the release of a tense breath from Bill, he crawled back toward her on all fours, a small bottle in his hand.
Snagging his arm, she rolled on her back, bringing him with her, her legs opening easily now. She closed her eyes, not because she didn't want to see, but because it seemed to heighten her senses.
After hearing the pop of the bottle top, he was touching at the juncture of her legs, gently at first, then seeking her opening. She bit her lower lip, that damnable tension back again. "Bill, just—"
He blew a "Shhhhh," against her neck, followed by gentle kisses along her jaw. She arched up on off the mattress, needing his kisses, but more desperately, wanting him to enter her. He pressed forward and she felt a sharp burn. She couldn't contain her gasp of pain. His weight immediately came off of her.
Tears of frustration gathered at her eyelids. "Bill—"
He shushed her again. "Remember, I told you I've got all the time in the world."
Soft kisses rained on her face, her neck, down to her breasts, and she relaxed yet again, her skittering hands roaming his body while she nibbled nervously at any skin her mouth could reach. She heard the top pop open again and the sound of more gel being squeezed out. Whatever he was doing, she felt safe and that he was going to take care of her.
He slipped inside her with only some tightness and she sighed with relief, until she realized it was just his finger. But before she could express her confusion, he began sliding it in and out, his thumb gently coaxing her clitoris. The lubrication on his fingers made them glide easily through her labia, caressing her lips until she was gasping in time with his ministrations.
Her head lolled off to the side. He had taken control of her body, just as he drove his car so assuredly. Her hips rose to meet his hand again and again, as he lay quietly beside her.
Through the curtain of her arousal, she saw this. "Bill...Try again," she gasped, stopping her movements and reaching for him.
His chuckle was pained. "I don't think you're ready," he said.
"Just force it," she demanded and he grunted in shock. "Well, a baby's supposed to go through there," she said practically, then thinking, that's about the most unromantic thing to say, ever.
"You haven't had a baby, nor are you in labor," he pointed out with infuriating good sense.
He slipped off the condom, flipping it into the wastepaper basket with a practiced toss.
Her tears were back. This wasn't going to happen.
"Let me show you," he said gently. He wrapped her hand around his finger, still sticky with lubricants. "That's fine, you see, but was tight, right?"
She nodded.
Then he guided her hand down to touch his penis, coaxing it around the substantial girth.
"Oh," she said faintly
"Yeah," he said with no vanity. "You just need more time, that's all. This has been a lot for you to take in for one night, and I'm not just talkin' about my cock."
She blushed hotly for a dozen reasons, from her anger toward her uncooperative body, to her prudish shock at hearing a dirty word. She turned away. "I guess I better go," she choked out.
Bill wasn't having any of it. Holding her by the arms, he began kissing down her spine. "There's a lot of ways to make love, Laura. Not just having intercourse."
He nosed aside her hair to find a new spot back behind her ear that made her arch up, her breasts lifting eagerly to meet his hands. She twisted in his grip to find his mouth, biting at it with all her pent-up frustration.
"Yeah, me too," he muttered against her lips finally.
She fell back on the mattress. He followed, looming over her. Sweeping her hair back, he kissed the corners of her mouth, the edges of her hyper-sensitive areolas before kneeling between her legs. He began to thrust his erection along her now swollen and wet lips, brushing across her clitoris with each stroke.
She cried out, thankfully with no pain in her tone to make him stop. Just in case, she grabbed a hold of his arms and clung on for dear life.
He fumbled for a pillow and tucked it under her hips. This gave him an even better angle. His shaft could run the full length of her vulva, causing her to whimper louder and louder. It was a shocking sound to her own ears, showing a need that she'd never felt before to be filled, to feel complete.
He scooped her up in his arms, cradling her close as he changed the angle again to rub harder against her clitoris. He growled in her ear, "God, Laura. You feel so damn good."
Rolling them, he lay on his back, and guided her to straddle his erection. "Take the wheel," he offered, grinning up at her.
She blinked in surprise. He was right; this was supposed to be fun. His hands on her hips pushed her up and down on his penis, now tight and rigid against his belly. Her eyes drifted half-closed as she rode his full length, from the tightening swell of his sac to the swollen tip. When she rubbed on this in particular, his head tossed from side to side, his face clenched in a grimace.
She stopped immediately and rocked back on her heels. "Am I hurting you?"
He gasped a laugh, his big hands on her flanks, urging her to resume. "God, no. It hurts so good," he groaned out. He took her breasts in his palms, thumbing the nipples, that soft touch that brought a hitch to her breathing.
"I want this to last forever, but it won't. You lucky women can do it again, but once I'm done, I'm done—so if I can just stay like this..." He thrust up on her downstroke, nudging her engorged nub so she gave another whimpering cry.
She didn't agree at all. She was so close, so frustratingly close that she felt a near panic. She'd never wanted anything so desperately in her life as she wanted to come right now. No longer caring if it hurt him or herself, she ground against him, writhing in his hands that were caressing her breasts, their gasps and her rising calls to her savior getting louder and louder.
Then it was happening as it has never happened before, not even thinking of him in the shower, and she knew what he meant. She wanted to feel this way forever, but it slipped away much too soon. Despite now being oversensitive, she kept shimmying against his length, trying to get that flashing moment back. His voice rose, and she even through her semi-conscious state, she could feel him pulsing beneath her. She pressed down, hoping to give him as much pleasure as possible.
His deep groans drowned out her sobs, but when he quieted, he could hear her crying.
He pushed back her tangled hair, terror in his voice. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, did I hurt you—"
She gather his face in her shaking hands and forced herself to laugh. "Oh no." She wiped her damp face with the back of her hand. "I'm happy. You know Catholics and their ecstasy."
She couldn't possibly explain that she was crying for the fleeting passing of something petty like an orgasm, that now she understood where the sin lay. In those few precious seconds, she would have done anything to feel like that forever; to be with this man.
He gathered her up in his big arms. "Okay, okay, just don't start calling me Jesus, or I'll get worried."
She nipped at his skin, too tired for any more of a reproach.
"Damn, look at this mess," he said. "Only problem with outercourse. It's not disposed in its proper receptacle."
Now that he mentioned it—but before she could satisfy her curiosity, he somehow managed to jump out of the bed, although he did waver frighteningly for a moment before getting his balance and hurrying to the bathroom.
She lay back, still trying to catch her breath and catalog all the new sensations on her body; the way her hips ached, the stubble burn on her breasts, the stickiness on her thighs and across her chest.
He returned with a damp warm towel and quickly cleaned her up. As he wiped between her legs, just as though she were a baby, she was revisited by her disappointment. She was a big baby; she couldn't have sex.
She fought back those silly tears again. "I'm sorry, Bill—"
He tossed aside the towel and lay back down beside her. "What the hell are you talking about," he said, his voice full of affection.
"That we couldn't—I mean, I'm sure this isn't how you expected the evening to go—"
"I didn't expect anything," he said gruffly, gently forcing her to cuddle close.
She gave his chest a tired little slap, but lay her head on it.
Then she was wide awake and her eyebrows rose when he told her: "I've been with plenty of women, Laura. I've pretty much checked everything off the list, including some stuff I'm not proud of."
She thought of that nearly empty box of condoms.
"So I'm not looking for the act anymore. I want to feel something." His balled fist touched over his heart before opening and guiding her head into its place. "You make me feel that something."
"What something?" she asked in a small voice, instantly regretting it.
He was silent or a long moment. "For one thing, you make me feel young—"
She snorted.
"It's a pretty common thing with men my age to try and recapture the past," he said, sounding wounded at her derision. "So they run out and hook up with some twenty-five year old; next best thing to being one yourself."
She couldn't help it, her mouth formed a firm line.
"I like to talk to you, Laura Roslin. Can't really talk to little girls. But with this—" his hand stroked down her thigh. "We're going through all these steps of being inexperienced, all the good and bad of being young. So you make me feel young."
"Okay," she said, relaxing into his warm body.
Even with her thoughts jumbled and confused, she was slipping off and felt suddenly uncomfortable. She wasn't sure what the proper procedure was. "Should I go?" she suggested.
His voice was guarded in the dark. "Do you want to?"
Shy, she shrugged.
"I'd like you to stay," he said definitely. He started to move around, seeking the top of the bedding. "But don't worry about leaving if you wake up and would rather be in your own bed."
She burrowed under the thick duvet, finding a pillow to tuck under her head. "All right," she agreed. "Your mattress is more comfortable." she added, even though out of habit, she was at the edge, clinging to it as she'd done for years with her single cot in her cell.
He gathered her close, fitting their two naked bodies together. It was yet another new sensation. She'd never slept in the nude and thinking it would be too silly to ask for something to sleep in, kept quiet. Beside, he seemed plenty warm enough. She had no idea how she'd sleep though, with this odd extra body and its limbs twining with hers.
"And there's another reason I want to be with you and not just any other woman," he said, jerking her awake.
"What?" she asked tentatively.
But again, Bill kept skirting the issue. "Just you. To touch you, taste your skin, smell you on my sheets." His lips found that spot behind her ear again, sending another impossible to believe shock wave down between her legs. "You're in my blood, like cheap wine. Bitter and sweet, tinged with regret."
Rather than being offended by the less than flattering description, Laura nodded. Her hand ran slowly up and down his forearm as she felt herself falling asleep one final time. "You need to write that down; it's good," she said drowsily.