Thank you, Hannah (grahamlecter) for Beta-reading my story and finding my mistakes so that I can fix them.
G-Girl
/
Chapter Thirty-Eight - Pre-Honeymoon in Vegas
Susan was awake before Spencer. Pulling on a robe, she bagged up the dirty clothes and called the bell desk to have their laundry picked up, requesting a rush on it. Since they were leaving the next day, she wanted to have enough time to pack. After filling out the form hanging in the closet, she included a generous tip when it was picked it up. The woman said they would return it in three to four hours.
As she started the coffeemaker, Susan started humming a random song and sang a line from it. That made her smile. "Hmm. Wouldn't that be something?" Walking into the bedroom, she found Spencer sitting up in bed, running his hands through his hair. He smiled at her.
"Good morning, Beautiful. How about we go downstairs to the buffet, for breakfast? After a shower, that is."
"I'll go anywhere with you, especially for breakfast... or any meal..." She sat on the bed, leaned over, and kissed him. "Oh, after you left Friday night, I was able to reserve one of the cabanas by the pool for today and a table at 2, for a late lunch with an up-front view of the fountain show."
"Sounds great." He grinned as he pulled back the covers and Susan happily moved over the bed and back into his arms…
/
While eating breakfast at the buffet, they planned their day.
"Before lunch, how about we go for a swim and check out the cabana?"
"I didn't bring a swimsuit… or… even own one."
"We could pick up a pair of shorts at Tutto, that shop across from the elevators. I brought my swimsuit and it would be nice to get some sun later."
He thought about her 2-piece bathing suit on the bed the other day as Susan was packing for the trip. He was absolutely looking forward to seeing her wear it.
On the way back to the room, they stopped by the shop, and Spencer found a pair of dark blue board shorts, a grey tank top to go with it, a blue Hawaiian print shirt to wear over that, and a pair of flip-flops. She picked out a sheer black wrap dress to wear over her swimsuit and flip-flops, to wear instead of her dressy sandals. After charging it all to the room, they headed to the elevators.
After dropping the bags on the table, He plopped down on the sofa and Susan sat next to him, holding his hand on top of his thigh. He put his other arm around her and held her close.
"How do you do this?"
"Do what, Love?" She pushed her shoes off.
"When I said you're a walking contradiction, I meant it… as a compliment. You seem to fit in so easily in this… lifestyle, yet you're comfortable at the ballpark, in the classroom… even in bed. I've never met someone so complex and yet so easy to talk to. You and I have discussed Doctor Who, Star Trek, Abstract Algebra, Fermat's last theorem, Chemistry, Psychology, Star Wars, even the History of Political Philosophy, and then we watch a movie like Pretty Woman while making out and doing... other things." He chuckled. "You dance in the kitchen while cooking, write complex coding for Betty's operating system, play the piano and teach Psychology. I'm… fascinated by you, constantly. You don't hide your emotions, say what you feel, and make people around you, especially me, feel comfortable and happy."
She smiled as tears filled her eyes. "That was beautiful, Love. Thank you." She kissed him softly. "It's an ongoing process. Growing up, I could talk to my family, sure, but in high school, it was difficult to find something in common to discuss with most of the other students. Teachers, I could talk to, well, most of them, anyway. It's as if I had to learn to walk with one foot in both worlds, so to speak. Otherwise, I would have felt isolated."
"I understand." Spencer nodded, stroking her back gently with his fingertips. "I did that; turned inward, preferring books to people until I started working in the BAU. But how do you do it?"
"I watched popular movies and tv shows, or at least those that appealed to me—the same for music and books. I've found there are quite a few I like… it's what I call my bridge to normal. I've since learned most of those tv shows and movies were still over the heads of some of my friends and most of my classmates."
"Besides Star Wars and Star Trek? What other shows?"
"Sadly, most of them aren't on anymore. Those I don't have on DVDs, I can still find reruns—The Big Bang Theory, FRIENDS, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Then there's The West Wing and The Newsroom, a couple of smartly written shows, as well as several movies by Aaron Sorkin, such as A Few Good Men and The American President. Many of the kids in school watched insipid time-wasting crap, not fit for broadcast, like most of the reality shows. Well, except for the home improvement, DIY and cooking shows, of course. I've learned from those."
"And musicals… you like those, too, right?"
"Oh, I love musicals. Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire, Gwen Verdon, Leslie Caron, and dozens of others. They made it look easy. Dancers especially know how much work goes into making it seem easy." Susan was quiet for a moment, then gave him a smile and said softly, "Maybe that's it. It takes a lot of work to make it appear easy. After a while, it's… second nature." She got up on her knees, leaned in, and kissed him. "It's so nice being able to share my world with you. I love talking with you about… everything. You make me feel like I can show you the things that interest me. And I want to learn about everything that interests you."
"I'd like that." He pulled her close with his arms around her waist. "You remind me of that diamond; multifaceted, dazzling, and beautiful." He grinned. "So, pool first… or after?"
She considered it for a moment and said playfully, "Hmm, pool... in between."
He kissed her again as she shuddered.
There was a knock at the door, and Susan got up, frowning. "Grrr. I'll get that, but I'll be right back, Love, and we'll continue this... mmm… conversation."
She took her wallet out of her purse on the table and opened the door for the hotel employee returning their laundry. Susan gave him a tip for the bagged clothes on hangers and two smaller bags of folded laundry.
After closing the door and putting her wallet away, she took everything else to the bedroom, set the bags on the dresser, and hung the clothes in the closet. She removed her outfit, slid on her robe, and walked back into the living room. Spencer had his head laid back on the sofa with his eyes closed.
Susan sighed. "You're scrumptious, even when you're asleep."
"I'm not asleep. I was resting my eyes, waiting for you to come back." He opened them, and he took her by the hand, pulling her gently onto his lap. "Now, where were we?"
/
Eventually, they changed into their swimsuits and made their way down to the pool. Susan wore the sheer black cover over her white bikini with thin blue stripes, her sunglasses, and flip-flops. Spencer felt awkward wearing the shorts, tank-top, with the Hawaiian shirt over it, and flip-flops, but he pushed through it since no one stared or gawked at him. But it took a bit of bargaining—and a few kisses from Susan—to get him to wear the shirt open.
They checked in with the pool attendant, who directed them to their cabana. Inside, Spencer glanced around. A flat-screen tv hung in the corner above a console with a tray of fresh fruit and a docking station for music, and on the table, a basket of snacks. In the mini-fridge, several bottles of water.
"This is lovely." She unrolled a towel from a basket on the table outside, spreading it on a chaise in front of the cabana, bringing another one inside, and setting it on the table.
"Ooh, snacks." He opened a bag of mixed nuts and sat down on a chaise outside.
"Enjoy, Love. I'm gonna go swim. Back in a bit." She kissed him, slipped off her wrap and sunglasses, and laid them on the chaise, taking the other towel with her.
The taste of the salty snack lingered on Spencer's tastebuds. He walked over to the bar for a drink and ordered an Arnold Palmer while looking around the pool area for Susan. There was enough lemonade to make the tea taste good and enough tea to cut the sweetness of the lemonade. The perfect drink, he thought.
Two men standing nearby at the bar were making crude, vulgar comments about the women in and around the pool. Spencer estimated they were in their early to mid-50s. Rossi would refer to them jag-offs for sure, he thought. He spotted Susan stepping out of the pool, using her towel to blot the water off her face and slip on her flip-flops, heading to the bar. When he heard the men making comments about her, he scowled.
The first jag-off nudged his friend's arm and said, "Oh, fuck me. Look at that one. Damn, what a body. I'd let her sit on my face while I played with those pretty titties."
The second guy added something Spencer couldn't hear all of, but it involved Susan and The Eiffel Tower, though he wasn't sure if it meant the one across the street or in Paris.
His first instinct was to reach for his FBI credentials, but those were in his suitcase. Not looking for a fight, he kept his voice low. "Hmph. That would never happen."
The guys turned around, and the first jerk asked Spencer, "Did you say something, Buddy?"
He repeated it and added, "She looks classy, obviously a woman of discerning tastes." Spencer leaned against the bar and took another sip of his drink.
Susan walked up to the bar, smiling at him, and ordered a strawberry lemonade. The first creep asked her if she'd like a mustache ride. She turned her head towards him without making eye contact. "No, thank you." The second repeated what he had mentioned to his friend, asking her if she'd like to be a part of an Eiffel Tower three-way. She rolled her eyes and ignored him. She looked at Spencer, asking, "Which of you gentlemen can answer this question? What do chemists call a benzene ring with iron atoms replacing the carbon atoms?"
The two creeps looked at each other and shrugged, mumbling.
Spencer tried not to smile and answered, "A… ferrous wheel."
She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. "Ooh, intelligent and handsome. Would you care to join me in my cabana?"
He took another sip of his drink and smiled. "Lead the way." Turning to the goons as they walked away, he shrugged. "See? Discerning tastes." When the pair returned to the cabana, they were laughing with their arms snugly around each other.
Susan shook her head. "Those jerks were gross. Why would they think any woman would go for that… nastiness?"
"Do you want to know what the guy said before you got there?"
"I don't… do I?"
He told her, and she looked as if she was going to vomit.
"That's gross. I've had to deal with propositions like that before. Decline politely and get out of the area works best. Some guys don't handle rejection well."
"I can't imagine what the Eiffel Tower reference was about."
"That's one I've never heard before, even from my students." She looked it up on her cellphone and showed him a crude illustration.
He grimaced. "I told them you had discerning tastes. It's unlikely they even know what that means."
"No woman should have to endure that kind of attention from strangers. It's nauseating."
"What if I had used a line like that on you?"
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head, smiling. "Besides being intelligent, you're civilized; nothing like those goons."
He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, making her shudder.
She said quietly, "And even if we used similar language in the bedroom, it would be between us. I'm sure neither of us would talk that way to strangers."
"So, if I said you had pretty titties, you'd be okay with it, as long as it's not in public?" He slid his hands slowly over her top, then around to her back, and held her close as she trembled.
"Mmm. Sure. Sex is awesome but relatively easy for many if you think about it. It's intimacy that's difficult. It requires honesty, respect, openness… and trust—confiding worries and fears—as well as hopes and dreams. You and I were more intimate by the time we first kissed than others who go from bed to bed, having sex. I think the best relationship is when you can talk about anything and everything, not just… boinking like bunnies."
He arched an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. "Boinking?"
"Mm-hmm… like bunnies. I'm paraphrasing something one of my students said."
Smiling, he sat on the chaise, and she sat down next to him. "It's nice I can tell you anything, and you don't make me feel like I'm weird for saying it."
"See? That's the trust. Well, that and you have a knack for recalling information and statistics I don't. Besides, I love listening to you; you're a veritable fount of knowledge."
He held her close. "What do you say we get in the pool for a few minutes, and then go back to the room until lunchtime? I'll even take this off." He pulled the shirt off, laying it on the chaise.
"You got it." They walked to the pool, and Spencer got in the shallow end, easing gingerly into the water, with his arms bent and his elbows up behind him. He stopped, watching as Susan kept going, her hips holding his attention as she walked several more yards. Finally, she dove in, swimming under the water towards him, coming up to the surface in front of him. Susan shimmered as she slid her arms around his waist and kissed him.
"I was wondering where you were going." He said, low in her ear, "Any time you want to go back to the room, I'm ready."
"Hmm. Yeah, I'm done swimming." They toweled off to the point where they weren't dripping wet, then gathered up their things and left the cabana, heading past the bar on the way to the pool area entrance. Spencer gave the creeps still standing by the bar a thumbs up and a huge grin, with his arm around Susan…
/
Lying in bed against his side, she smiled sleepily with her head on his shoulder. "You seemed so uncomfortable in the pool. I didn't pressure you into going swimming, did I?"
"I was a willing participant. Though, thinking about it, I should have jumped in with you. It still would have been a shock to the system but for a shorter length of time." He held her against him with his hands on her lower back.
/
That evening at Binion's, the pair spent time with Bill and got to know Becca better. She was sweet, and they appeared to genuinely care about each other. Spencer was happy for them but figured it would take some time to get used to the idea of his father being married to someone other than his mother.
It turned out they both shared the same favorite author, Isaac Asimov. Their conversations at the office started when Becca brought to work the first book from the Robot series. She was sitting at her desk re-reading I, Robot while eating her lunch. Bill just happened to walk by, saw the book, and talked to her.
They had a great time, and later, back at the hotel, Susan said she enjoyed the Chicken Fried Lobster. Though she admitted—if given the choice of only one—she preferred her lobster broiled.