A/N: I just received my 100th review from roar526, and I think it's time to celebrate that. Happy 100th everyone. From Super Marshal Marshall, Bad Girl Mary, Psycho Raph, and John Patrick, we love you all. Get dressed up. Drinks are free at the Phoenix Dream Blues Club tonight....
Kissing is like drinking salted water. You drink, and your thirst increases. ~Chinese Proverb
The elevator doors opened, and Mary and Marshall stepped out. She walked down the hallway toward their room, head down, mind racing. He followed a pace or two behind her, letting her walk with the privacy she so clearly wanted. She couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said, "I have to be absolutely professional in every way when we're with them because if they suspect how I really feel, I am putting you in danger."
So there are two disturbing things in that sentence. One, that they might take away the deal. That's a big scary pile of shit. But actually, I've been in that situation before, and I was handling it okay before he showed up, so... That brings up number two, "how he really feels." That's not disturbing, maybe, so much as it is...intriguing? Exciting?
Her heart, downcast moments ago, was now fluttering a little. That kiss he'd given her, the words he'd said had made her wonder at what he hadn't been able to say at the end.
This conversation is not over. But I'm going to take what he just told me about the meeting on faith. It's been a long time since I was willing to do that, but I think the situation we're in warrants a little trust....
They paused at the door to the room, and she looked back at him. His hands were in his pockets, and he was staring down at the toes of his shoes, an unhappy expression on his face.
She opened the door and let them both in, walked over to the bed and sat down. He stood near the door, one hand coming up to run through his hair, frustration growing but clearly not knowing what to say.
She patted the bed beside her. "Come here, Marshall and sit down."
Reluctantly, he came over and sat down. Like a little boy who is about to be scolded. She reached over and took one of his hands in hers. He laced his fingers with her and gripped her hand loosely, lightly, as if he expected at any moment to have to let it go for good.
"If I'm perfectly honest with you, I don't know how I feel about the fact that your buddies in the Marshal service might try to change their minds about things if they find out we're together...."
He'd been preparing for this, been getting himself ready for her withdrawal from him, had been afraid from the moment she'd been angry in the elevator that this would be her decision. He had to respect it, no matter how much the little voice inside him was howling....
He nodded, spoke, "I understand. I know how important your freedom is to you. I would never do anything to jeopardize that. I will go downstairs right now and get an adjoining room. We'll get another Marshal up here to help with the night watches. Nobody will be able even to suggest that there's any impropriety..."
She was watching him, saw the tight curve of his shoulders, felt the way his hand was holding hers, the way you'd hold a bird you were trying not to frighten into flight. He'd really do it if he thought it's what I wanted, then. He'd step away from all of it, even though I think he...I think we... Oh, Marshall...
She put her hand over his mouth as he was still speaking, still making promises that he'd leave her to protect her, to ensure her safety. "Marshall," she said softly. His eyes, blue and full of storm clouds, slowly came up to meet hers.
"I'm not asking you to be a martyr. I'm not even asking you to step away. That you would be willing to do that, though..." She leaned over to him, and she ran her hand gently along the curve of his face as if she were learning the lines of it, committing him to memory... "that may be the sweetest thing I have ever had anybody say to me." She brought her mouth to his, kissed him as if it were the first time, soft, sweet, tender.
His heart registered her words...not asking me to step away...don't have to give her up...and he slipped his arms around her, unable to stop the flood of relief that he felt. I could have done it if she'd asked...would have, but the cost of it, seeing her every day but never having this, not having all the little things...I don't know what I would have done...
She broke the kiss, continued to hold him.
"Marshall, I ...Let's just make a promise, okay? Let's just promise that whatever this is that we have, this thing that's growing between us, is going to survive this, even though it's going to be hard as hell at times, even though we're both going to get frustrated with things. Let's make a promise that neither one of us is going to run away or step back for real without telling the other first. If we do that, if we can be there for each other, then I think we can make it through whatever we have to do or pretend to be for everybody else." Her eyes searched his, unable to keep the thread of nerves from showing in her own. If I'm wrong about what he feels, I guess I'll know it now...
He nodded, brushed his mouth across hers. "So, we're in it together officially, then, Mary? Us against the world?" He smiled oddly.
"What?" she asked, curious to know what could have moved him to humor at a time like this.
He shook his head a little, studied the lines and curves of her face before answering. "Call it cosmic irony. My office has been trying to partner me for three years now, unsuccessfully. I guess I was just waiting for you."
---
They went out to meet some of her friends at a hot little dance club. Mary had some of her clothing sent up from storage, and the Marshal Service had sent some of Marshall's belongings from his home. Marshall sat typing on his little netbook, catching up on online obligations, while Mary finished getting ready.
When she came out of the bathroom of the huge suite and into the seating area, he almost fumbled the tiny computer out of his lap. Holy freakin' wow.
She smiled. "I'll take that expression as a compliment, then." Her dress was black, backless, and revealed enough leg to make him glad he wore a gun. He was going to need it once they got to the club and other guys saw her in that outfit.... "Are you ready to go?"
Go? Go where? The bed is over th... Oh yeah...
He stowed the computer, stood up, and took her outstretched hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. "You look fantastic, you know."
Her smile was sassy, provocative. "Yeah. Actually, I do know it. Wait until you see me dance." She did a little shake and shimmy still holding on to his hand that had her anatomy doing interesting things....
He couldn't help but smile in return, and he rolled his eyes, placed a hand over his heart. "I may not be able to take it. What did you do, take lessons from the showgirls here when you were younger?"
She looked him straight in the eyes and said, "You laugh, but..."
Oh. God. "Really? No. You're just trying to yank my chain. It is, by the way, working...."
She walked him to the door. "I'm perfectly serious. They were everywhere when I was growing up, and I wanted to learn to dance, so...who better to teach you than women who do it well for a living?"
He grinned, pushed the elevator button as they reached it. "So you have extensive training in feathers and sequins, is this what you're telling me?"
She waited until they got in the small confines of the elevator, and then she made a neat little dance turn, ending with a tango-esque leg hooked around his, her hand spread on his chest. Her breath warmed his ear. "Mmm-hmm. I have a high kick that would make a Rockette proud and I also know what every girl should about g-strings and pasties, if you're curious."
He struggled to make his suddenly very distracted brain piece all the images and words together when his primary urge was to grab and take. "But...but...g-strings and pasties...that's strippers...right? Not showgirls...."
Her husky laugh caressed his ear, and then she pressed her mouth to his bobbing Adam's apple where he swallowed quickly. "Well, I believe in being very thorough when I want to learn about something and some of those girls had done double duty.... How about you, Marshall? You believe in being...thorough, right?" He felt her smile.
Tease. God. Drag you back upstairs if we didn't have to...have to...what is it we're going to do again?
He lowered his head and found her mouth waiting for his own, just a little parted, lips still curving in that cat-satisfied smile. He flicked his tongue in between them, hungry from the images she'd created with her words, from the sight of her in the little black dress. The elevator opened to the lobby, and they were kissing, she still pressed against him, his hands holding her at the waist and nape. One of the bellboys whistled, jarring them back to awareness, and Mary pulled away from him, licking her lips, still feline, cat after the cream.
"Going to be thinking about that all night long, aren't you, Marshall?"
"Yeah," he said. "Think so." How can I think about anything else? I've already seen some of those moves, but....
"Good. Because I want you to think about it. Remember what you said about pleasures delayed. Now come on. We have a performance to do, and then, if you're really, really good, you might get a private show all of your own."
---
Her friends were not what he expected. He didn't really know what he expected, actually, but this mixture of people tonight was intriguing. There was a quiet, dark-haired girl who introduced herself as Lisa and her boyfriend Paul, loud, garrulous, redhaired. They apparently did something with computers. Marshall found them easy to talk to, spent a pleasant time comparing notes on the latest technology. The other member of the group was a tall, curvy, African-American woman who came into the club after they arrived and turned heads as she crossed the floor. She was introduced as Thea, and Mary simply said they'd known each other for a long, long time.
Marshall had the feeling he was being weighed and measured, especially by Thea. She was almost as tall as he, and she wasn't even wearing heels. Mary had been pulled out on the floor dancing with Paul and Lisa, and Marshall was sitting at the table chatting with Thea idly about whatever topic crossed their minds. He was a bit distracted by the need to keep watch over Mary and the effect of keeping that watch as she moved in the black dress, so Thea snuck in a conversational one-two punch on him without him seeing it coming.
"So...Marshall....what do you think of our girl here?"
Marshall's attention snapped back to Thea. Should have seen this coming. Time to play this up. "I knew there had to be an ulterior motive in my suddenly being left here....so this is the interrogation portion of the evening, is it?" He smiled, softening his words.
Thea angled her head, looked at him with disconcertingly perceptive eyes, did not smile in return. "See what you did right there, honey, that's not an answer. That's an evasion. Evasions are not good. Evasions, are, in fact, fairly dangerous in some contexts...."
"Ah. I see. Sorry. Well, then....what I think of Mary. I think she's amazing. I've never met anybody like her. From the very first moment we met, she's been knocking me out and leading me on a merry chase." Oh...the verbal irony...oh please, please let her tell Mary what I said.... "Every day with her is an adventure. I never know what's going to happen next."
Thea looked at him, sensing but not understanding the humor under his words. "So she'd been kicking your ass, has she? Yeah, she'll do that....."
You have no idea....
"....but a wise man understands that she's worth it, right?"
"Oh," said Marshall, earnestly, wholeheartedly, watching her moving on the dance floor, "absolutely. Worth any danger."
Mary looked over at the two of them, curved her hand in a beckoning gesture, a huge smile curving her lips, and Marshall excused himself from Thea, rose and went to join her.
---
It ought to be illegal, the things she can do with her body, the things she does to mine without even half trying, I swear...
The bass beat of the music was tangible, pulsing through his body. Mary had her back to him and her arm was twined up around his neck, holding on to him as she twisted to the music. Marshall wasn't much of a dancer, but even if he had been, he wouldn't have been able to remember any of the steps or motions with what she was doing.
Jesus. At least this place is so crowded that all I really have to do is hold her and step back and forth some.
She turned and was immediately pressed up against him by the writhing crowd. She smiled up at him seductively as his hands slid down to rest on her hips.
"Having a good time?"
He arched his brow at her, smiled back, gestured with one hand idly. "You can't tell?"
She took a moment to assess the body held against her, felt the condition of it, allowed her smile to blossom into a wicked grin full of promises. "Well, now that you mention it..."
He blushed a little, but pulled her tighter against him. "That's not exactly what I meant..."
"Oh, relax. Aren't we supposed to be putting on a show, anyway?" she purred, running her fingers up his chest to the vee of his shirt, body still swaying against his to the pulsing rhythm.
"Mmm. Now that you mention it, I seem to remember that being an integral part of the plan. Yeah."
"So I think it's time for the floor show, Marshall. What did you have in mind?" Her hand was now teasing the short hair at the nape of his neck, fingers circling gently.
"Maybe something like this..." He lowered his mouth, brushed it lightly across hers, once, twice.
"Not bad," she murmured, only a breath away from him, "not a bad start at all. Where were you going from there? Or was that all you had on your agenda?"
He smirked. Going to be that way with it, are you? He squinted his eyes briefly, pretended to think about it a moment, then..."Well, what about..." and his hands slid from her waist to cup her bottom, and he leaned in, pressed a nibbling kiss to the place where her neck joined her shoulder. "That work, you think?" He spoke the words working his way up the column of her throat to the sensitive spot behind her ear.
Oh hell, yeah. That works for me.... She purred a little, angled her head to give him better access, flexed her hands on the back of his neck. "So far, I'm loving this plan, Marshall. Very nice. Classic, even."
He laughed, huskily. "Wait till you see the next bit," and his mouth covered hers, his tongue slipping between her lips to tease and slide against her own. Their bodies ceased moving to the music and the ebb and flow of the crowd around them as they became absorbed in the sensations they were creating.
They became aware of hooting and catcalls from the edge of the floor, and they broke the kiss. Mary looked over to the table where her friends sat, the source of the noise, and looked back to Marshall, totally unrepentant. "Saved by the bell, as it were. So ends the floor show."
He shrugged, kissed her lightly once more before taking her hand to lead her off toward the table. "Oh well. As the cliché says, all good things, and all that...."
Mary tugged his hand, making him pause, look back at her, "Uh-uh, Marshall. No way is this the end of this good thing...."
---
Even though Marshall had been observant, even he hadn't been able to see every person in the club. Raph had been counting on the darkness, the distraction, the crowds to act as camouflage. He wasn't here to strike. He was here to see the competition, here to stalk his prey.
This one was dangerous. That was the word on the street. Normally, he'd have thrown caution to the winds, but he had a still-healing wound to the shoulder that proved the tall man on the dance floor had a degree of threat to him.
Raph tucked himself into a corner, ignored advances from several scantily-clad women, and hungrily followed the objects of his obsession as they danced. He'd been careful not to order any alcohol, anything that could fray his control, but as he reached for the glass of water, his hand shook as he watched Mary press herself against the man's spare frame. When he touched her, lowered his head to kiss her, Raph's hand simply crushed the glass, ice and water flowing over the table.
He was gone before a server could rush over to ask whether or not he was injured and start to clean up the mess. He'd seen what he needed to see.
---
Mary pushed the button for the ninth floor. They'd chatted in the car on the ride back to the casino, talked about her friends. Mary had laughed at Marshall. It turned out that Lisa and Paul who "did things with computers" were military-grade hackers for hire and probably belonged on one of his wanted fugitive lists. Marshall had just shrugged mentally at the news. No wonder they knew so much about that latest encryption...wonder how long they've been trying to hack it, or if they already have....
"They liked you, you know. You officially passed."
He looked at her, brow arching skyward. "Did I? Was this a test, then? Had I known, I think I would have dressed up a bit more or something..."
She swatted at him. "They were asking about you when they heard that I was seeing somebody seriously that they hadn't met. Since....him...they've been really protective."
"What would have happened if they hadn't liked me?" He was smiling, rubbing his hands up and down her shoulders gently.
She leaned into him. "Well...that's kind of what Thea was there for."
"What?"
"It was always the joke when we were growing up. Calling Thea 'The Enforcer'. We had no idea that when she grew up, she was really going to take it all so damn seriously, so...professionally...."
"Wait. What the hell are you saying, Mary?"
"I'm saying you should be really, really glad that Thea likes you. It would have been a very long night, otherwise...."
Nothing else Marshall asked her pried a single other detail about Thea out of her, but the look and the comments the tall woman had given him sitting at the table suddenly began to take on a whole different context.... Jee-zus...
---
Once they were back in the room, Mary took the first shower, slipped out in a fluffy robe, left the bathroom ready for Marshall. As he lathered and rinsed, his mind turned back over the events of the long day, trying to piece together all the new aspects of Mary and his relationship with her that had been revealed. He stepped out of the beautiful tiled shower with a towel wrapped around him looking for the pajamas he'd brought into the bath with him.
They were gone.
I know I didn't forget them. I know I brought them in here. What the hell?
He walked to the door of the bath, stuck his head out, looked around. Mary was nowhere to be seen. Must have gone into the other room to watch TV or relax. Where were the pants? He knew he'd brought them in.
Maybe I didn't. Maybe I was so distracted that I did just leave them in my bag.
He looked again, hiked the towel more tightly around his waist, crossed the room to where his gear was sitting. He dug through the bag, growing more frustrated by the second, and still the flannel pajama bottoms were missing. Near the bottom of the bag, his fingers encountered the familiar feeling of the soft fabric, and he almost shouted in triumph, closing his hands on it and pulling. Out popped not the black pants with the Tabasco sauce print he'd been hunting, but instead the all-too-familiar red flannel covered in water-skiing Santas and swimsuit clad elves....
I've been set up.... These were not in my bag earlier. I KNOW it.
He gritted his teeth and slid the pants on, turned to hear the door to the other room opening. The damp towel he'd lifted to carry back to the bathroom fell out of his suddenly nerveless fingers. Mary was standing framed in the doorway, wearing a black lace bra and his missing Tabasco sauce pants.
"Time for your private show, Mr. Hunter."
Love you. Don't shoot me. More to come soon. I promise... Remember what Marshall says, "A pleasure delayed is not a pleasure denied." That's my story, and I'm sticking to it....