"Okay, so you know I love teapots, but …" Ireland made a face while looking around the frilly pink tearoom, "this looks like Umbridge's office from Harry Potter. Why are we meeting here?"

Ronnie rolled her eyes and Allyson shot an evil look over her shoulder where a very uncomfortable looking Norman Hansen sat staring at a dainty teacup that looked like he could crush it with one hand. "To make him or whatever, "she finger quoted, "Protection Detail we've been assigned as uncomfortable as possible."

Ireland looked at her in confusion, "Why do you need protection?"

Ronnie chuckled, "Just wait. You're here too and as soon as John talks to Edgar or Scott you'll get it as well."

Ireland didn't believe her and said as much. "Oh yes you will," said Ronnie in a singsong voice. "Just you wait."

As if on cue Ireland's cell phone rang, seeing it was John she answered it, "Well hello to you too. No, I'm with Ron and Al. No. Yeah. We're….EXCUSE ME? " Ronnie and Allyson giggled. Ireland shot them a scathing look then hissed into the phone, "I am perfectly capable…."

Allyson snatched the phone out of Ireland's hand, "John? This is Allyson. Chill out. Norm is here," and then hung up the phone.

Ronnie looked sympathetically at Ireland, "Fight another battle hon, you won't win this one."

Ireland looked murderously at her two friends and then at Norman who continued to shift uncomfortably in his seat, "One of you bitches had better tell me what's going on."

Ronnie looked at Allyson, "Don't look at me; you're the one with the crazy man after you."

Allyson slumped in her chair, "You remember the night Ronnie announced her engagement? My date that night decided to try to rape me. Scott stopped him and since then he's been aggravating me."

"AGGRAVATING YOU?!" shouted Ronnie causing several other patrons to glare their direction. She lowered her voice, "The man tried to kill Scott on the freeway by cutting him off which made him lay his bike down into oncoming traffic. Tried to kick her door in after bashing it with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of roses…as if roses and wine really say 'I'm sorry I tried to rape you'. Then the fucker cut her brake lines and I'm sure that's who cut my land line. Not to mention the creep that hit you with the soda bottle during the half marathon last week."

"We don't know it was…" protested Allyson.

"Who the fuck else would lob something at a runner? And you specially?" glared Ronnie.

Allyson sighed, "Anyways, Scott and Edgar decided we need watching over if we go out. And I guess they've talked to John."

"What's Ray and Ren got to say about this?"

Ronnie let out and unlady like snort, "Are you kidding? Ray and Scott hatched this plan, and Edgar signed on as fast as he could. Ren agrees, so if Edgar's not at my place she is."

"Okay, enough about my psycho problem, tell us what's going on and why you're in Seattle. You hate the rain," demanded Allyson.

"In a nutshell, I refused to be relocated somewhere I wasn't comfortable living and they fired me."

~DC~

An efficient young assistant led Ireland through the modern office building. Everywhere she looked she saw new, innovative, green technologies in place. The assistant lightly rapped on a closed office door, opened it and gestured for Ireland to go in. Behind the desk was a smart dressed Asian woman who extended her hand, "Good afternoon. I'm Mila Lassiter. Please have a seat Ms. McDonaugh."

Mila couldn't believe her good luck, when Sig had first called asking for a favor she had been willing to humor him. She was having a good time with the salty captain and giving what she assumed was Johnathan's flavor of the month an interview wasn't that difficult, though she had serious doubts the woman would actually be employable at her firm. When Ireland McDonaugh had called to make the appointment she'd done a little happy dance at her desk. Mila dispensed with the usual job interview questions. After a few pointed questions covering the companies green sustainable expectations she passed a manila folder to Ireland.

Ireland gave her a confused look, "What's this?"

"Your job offer," replied Mila.

Ireland was dumbstruck. There hadn't even been a real interview and the job offer was personalized for her, so Ms. Lassiter had known ahead of time she was going to offer the job.

Mila smiled, "I am familiar with your work and the company you worked with. I'd like to see what your creativity and our environmental practices can create. Take a few days if you want and look the offer over."

Ireland left shortly and drove back to Ronnie's. John's pickup truck was in the drive and she pulled in behind it. He was sitting on the front porch smoking and smiled as she approached, "Well?"

Ireland couldn't help but smile, "Well what?"

"Do you think they will call and offer you the job?"

"No," Ireland deadpanned. They wouldn't, they already offered her the job.

John opened his mouth but closed it again, not sure what to say and not wanting to put his foot in his mouth.

Ireland held up the folder, "They had the job offer ready before I walked in."

John was shocked. He'd hoped Sig's new friend could help Ireland, but he didn't think they'd hire her sight unseen. Unfortunately he said as much.

"My reputation preceded me asshole," glared Ireland.

"You're really that good?" tumbled out of his mouth unfiltered.

She narrowed her eyes, "Do you really not want to get laid in this decade?"

"Awwww, don't be like that. Tell you what. Go get your things and we'll head back to my place and 'celebrate'," he waggled his eyebrows and grabbed her around the waist. A deep kiss silenced any further comments.

~DC~

Ireland smirked at John's back as he carried her luggage to his bedroom. He knew he'd fucked up in Ronnie's yard, she wondered how he was going to get himself out of this pickle. He flipped on the light and stopped. Turning on his heel he prevented her from entering the bedroom, "Um, yeah. I need to take care of something before you go in there."

Visions of tiny bras and lace panties flashed through Ireland's mind and she pushed past him ready to demand that he drive her back to Seattle. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the scene in front of her….a roll of duct tape and a box cutter were sitting on a shower curtain that had been taped to the bare mattress. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" she screamed. "FREAK!"

"What? No! It's not like that…."he began.

"It's not like what? A scene from a horror movie? Are you fucking nuts? Why the hell…"she ranted.

"Yeah but you missed the most important piece," John picked up a bottle of baby oil. "I don't want my bed getting ruined."

Partial understanding began to dawn, "But why are there psycho tools on the bed?"

"Oh, that's easy. The shower curtain wouldn't stay put so I needed to tape it down. The duct tape wouldn't tear so I had to use the…"John pointed to each piece as he spoke.

Ireland gripped her forehead and closed her eyes wearily, "Gotcha. But why didn't you put the razor and tape away when you were done? I mean really…" she gestured at the bed.

He gave her a lopsided grin, "I was running late to pick you up."

"You'd been at Ronnie's long enough to smoke half a pack…."Ireland didn't give him an inch.

"Okay, so I THOUGHT I was going to be late," he smirked then went to shove the offending implements in his nightstand drawer.

Ireland shook her head, "Uh, think again. Garage."

John tried to look insulted, "It's my house."

Ireland arched and eyebrow, "True, but it's my amusement park. If you want the roller coaster in service then that shit needs to go in the maintenance shed."

John's eyes lit up, "Yes ma'am. And then we can grease the track…."

Ireland rummaged through her luggage and quickly found two pony tail holders. Flipping her hair over she quickly pulled her thick mane into a ponytail on the top of her head. She then braided the tail.

"A lot of work for something I'm just going to pull down," laughed John.

"It'll keep it from getting too much oil, so it had better stay that way bucko," she warned.

John closed the distance between them and wrapped the thick rope around his hand, "Hmm, might come in handy." He pulled her to his body and crushed his lips against hers. "You left without me," he growled in her ear.

Ireland rolled her eyes, "I told you, I can take care of myself."

"I know you think you can sweetheart, but…"John saw her fingers at his neck then were on his knees in an instant, Ireland standing above him. "What the fuck?!" he gasped.

Ireland quickly took her clothes off and hopped up on the bed. She sat there smiling sweetly, "Like I said, I can take care of myself."

John staggered to his feet and shakily disrobed, "I'm not sure Mr. Happy is gonna work for while…"

"If I had wanted to disable Mr. Happy, believe me I would have…." smirked Ireland. She leaned over and took the bottle of baby oil and dribbled it across her stomach. She began to rub it in and chuckled as John's cock visibly twitched, "See he's not out of commission at all…."

John climbed on the bed and added more oil, "Might as well makes this fun…"

Ireland snatched the bottle and squirted it on him, "What did you have in mind?"

John leered and waggled his eyebrows, "How about we play "Hide the sausage?"

Ireland schooled her face to a bored expression, "Can't, not kosher."

"I said hide the sausage not hide the pickle. Mr. Happy's a lot larger…" grunted John.

"Pork sausage?" hinted Ireland and John grinned nodding slightly his hand dropping to his crotch, "Jewish people don't eat pork products genius."

John's hand snaked out and grabbed her and pulled her against him, "All right…then let's wrestle. Since you can take care of yourself with an attacker surprising you, how are you when he's got you in a bear hug?" He turned her so that her back was flush to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, trapping her arms to her sides. She bucked and twisted, the oily causing them to slip against each other. "Mmmm that's right sweetheart, just like that…FUCK!" he yelled letting her go. "Why you gotta be so mean!"

Ireland turned and blinked innocently at him, "What? It was one little pubic hair…" She held it up, "See I can start my own collection or sell it on ebay. Bet it brings more than those smelly boots of yours…"

John growled and launched himself at her. Spinning her around he pushed her shoulders to mattress and smacked her ass, "I think you need to be taught a lesson." Ireland shivered in anticipation. Knowing he wouldn't really hurt her, she reveled in the feel of him taking complete control. "Spread your legs," he demanded and emphasized his point by smacking the inside of each knee. He thrust two fingers deep inside and chuckled as they glistened in the lamp light. John lined himself up and drove himself in deeply with a powerful thrust. Ireland arched her back even more, nails clawing at the bed and hissed in response.

John continued pounding into her, one hand on the small of back to keep her still, the other alternating hard and softer smacks on her backside. With each thrust Ireland could feel her insides start to quake, the warm, throbbing sensation building until she went rigid, toes curling as the wave crashed over her.

John slowed long enough to catch his breath thinking that he was seriously getting out of shape in his old age. A cool breeze on his cock informed him that Ireland had moved out of his reach; he felt her legs on his and then found himself looking up at her while she straddled him. She smiled down and lightly raked her nails down his chest, "When are YOU going to trust my sense of self-preservation?" She seated herself on his erect member and rolled her hips, "MmmmHmmmm just like that."

John watched in fascination as she began a slow grind against his pelvis. Eyes closed, head thrown back, Ireland seemed to be moving to her own inner music. Her hands began to move across her skin, caressing softly. She felt his member start to throb and John groaned, "Yer killin' me woman!"

Her eyes snapped open and she fell forward to brace her arms on his shoulders and began to move up and down on his shaft. His hands once again found purchase on her slick body and he helped thrust her down, increasing the depth and pressure until they were both gasping and on the cusp. John reached between them and rasped the pad of his thumb over her clit and sent her over the edge again. The velvety vise-like grip catapulted John and he arched as he came deep inside her.

Ireland gasped for breath and rolled away, giggling as John's hands slipped and lost their grasp on her oiled flesh. Getting to her feet she doubled over laughing as John's knees slipped on the shower curtain and he fell flat on his face.

"Where're you going?" he muttered.

Ireland returned to the bed with a towel and wet wash cloth in her hand, "Roll over."

John complied with a "Woof."

"Yes you are a dog," Ireland stroked his soft cock with the cloth.

"Uh, I might be getting on in years, but I'm pretty sure Mr. Happy will be back," he assured her.

Ireland licked her lips then purred, "I'm sure he will. But Mr. Happy's brain should have gotten edible massage oil instead of baby oil."

John looked confused until Ireland lifted a firm breast to his mouth. "Lick," she commanded. He complied with a leer and promptly gagged. "Exactly."

~DC~

Josh nervously glanced at his wristwatch and groaned seeing that only two minutes had passed since the last time he had looked. For the last week he had been cooling his heels in Amsterdam and between his nerves and watching Mike's lame pursuit of the desk clerk he was about to lose his mind. Having been told to arrive fifteen minutes early to his appointment with Mistress Deveaux, he had been pacing the sidewalk outside the Château de Plaisir Minuit for over half an hour already…he still had ten minutes before the appointed time. Instinctively he kept reaching for his nonexistent pack of cigarettes, his go to habit to calm his nerves. He'd even left his e-cig at the hotel. The cool night air wafted past, Josh closed his eyes, took a deep breath and decided that he'd be early, what's the worst they could do to him? Beat his ass?

With as much swagger as he could muster he strode to the door. Just as he was about to turn the knob, the dark, heavy door swung open. The burning in his lungs reminded him he was holding his breath as a slim dark haired woman answered the door. She dipped her head and gestured for him to enter, "Mr. Grant?"