Unorthodox… But I'll Allow It
The colour had begun to drain away from the afternoon light peculiar to Albuquerque, hovering on the cusp of the photographer's 'golden hour', when everything was bathed in muted light instead of glaring chiaroscuro of the high desert southlands. Inside Fawnia's low, stuccoed home even with the windows tightly shuttered against the daytime heat, the dry air was uncomfortably good at sucking the moisture out of man and beast, but that was part and parcel of summers in New Mexico. Although technically it was the tail-end of summer, the days were still hot enough to bless air conditioning, though once the blazing ball of the sun sank lower toward the horizon, the land cooled off in no time. Most social life didn't start until the late afternoon when it was far more pleasant to indulge in such things, when the more subtle scents of nature no longer had to compete with the dry, flinty smell of dust.
In the kitchen of the low-set bungalow, blonde head tilted slightly to the side, Fawnia assessed the most aesthetically pleasing arrangement of finger foods she was preparing, mentally readying herself for her afternoon with company. A knock on the door sounded hollowly through the open-plan lounge-dining area, and putting down the olive jar, Fawnia made her way to the entrance. The open-weave cheesecloth skirt she wore floated around her legs, the wispy sensation against her skin taking only a minor part of her attention as she walked, her mood heightened by the anticipation of having a guest.
He was expected, but she felt nervous nonetheless. It had been a long time since she'd invited a man into her home and subtle emotions warred within her. Antagonistic pleasure-then-doubt made her heart rate leap, then calm, with confusing repetition. This man wasn't just your average Joe, he was a LAWYER, but he was so incredibly different from every pre-conceived notion she'd ever held or was likely to hold about a practitioner of the legal profession. All her erroneous preconceptions of what kind of person he might be had long ago flown out the window after their first meeting last week.
For a start, he was smart, which went without saying; he WAS a lawyer, DUH! but he also had a wickedly pointed rapid-fire conversational style peppered with idioms and sayings that sounded like they came from forty years ago. He didn't miss much and was adept at opining any number of painfully accurate yet borderline scurrilous allusions that the all-too brief quality time they'd had together, she'd had to cover her giggles. He sure had the gift of the gab, Fawnia thought, remembering the generalisation about the Irish and the kissing of the Blarney stone, but with a name like Jimmy McGill, he'd HAVE to be of Irish stock, surely.
She'd contacted him on impulse and he'd suggested they meet at Tijo's Bar last week after she finished work, in order to discuss her specific situation. After having spent most of the laughably informal bar consultation laughing, very little else had got done before he abruptly ('precipitously' to coin his apologetic turn of phrase at the time) had to leave, to her disappointment. He HAD at least asked her to call him to set up another appointment, joking about making it a 'dinner date', so she had. She'd wondered if he'd actually turn up, not having the cash to splash around on one of the local restaurants, but he'd accepted her offer of a meal at her home without hesitation, which made Fawnia feel as if she'd passed muster in some indefinable way.
She'd seen his cheesy TV commercials of course, only peripherally recalling the salient facts in that way that you just ignored adverts but were still aware of their message; a local lawyer with a penchant for out-there advertising, a taste for gaudy clothing and an individual spirit that spoke to hers. She'd had to hand it to him that his amusingly tacky commercials had worked, and that one of his raucous adverts exhorting the viewer to 'Better call Saul!' had given her the idea in the first place. The issue of her shithead ex had progressed from being a mere irritant to an annoyance, and finally, a worry that he might actually come after her more aggressively, or turn up to cause trouble at her workplace. She'd moved house twice already, and was running out of places to run to. Besides, she liked it here, and wanted to stay.
All of this flashed through Fawnia's mind in three heartbeats, by which time she had her feet planted on the soft Mexican-weave rug inside her door, her eye pressed momentarily to the peep-hole to make sure it was the man she expected, and not her jerkwad ex. A frisson of apprehension was replaced with a pleasant tingle as she recognized the earnest, slightly lined face of her gentleman caller, his slightly-hooded eyes and serious expression making her feel as if this man might have a LOT of stories, if he so chose to share them. At least, she HOPED he was a gentleman; he was a far cry from the previous testosterone-poisoned, man-child she'd been dealing with, particularly one who thought the height of entertainment was reality TV or whatever hate Fox was televising this week. 'Well, here we go', she thought, releasing the thumb bolt and unlocking the door, her palms a little clammy with nervous expectation.
The gentling light of the western sky was just going down behind the high-desert hills that ran perpendicular to the front of her north-facing bungalow, and in a pique of serendipity that made her smile momentarily, surrounded his auburn-haired head with a softly suffused halo. If only he could have seen himself, he'd probably have enjoyed it too, she grinned. Left hand still on the doorknob of the open door, Fawnia's smile brought a matching one to life on her guest's face, changing his slightly serious expression to an open, welcoming one.
"Well, that's nice, a smile straight off the bat," he grinned, the look of inward-concentration she'd seen through the peephole vanishing in an instant. She'd glimpsed moments in the bar of what she considered his endearing distraction; tiny glimpses of singly-focussed, slightly intense seriousness, and some other flashes of vulnerability, as if he were trying furiously hard not to mess something up. Everyone had self-doubts from time to time she figured, even someone as brash, forward, in-your-face, and confident as he was. To Fawnia, the fact he'd cared enough to take her call and take her seriously stood for something that mattered to her, that he respected her as a client (albeit a small fry one), and didn't just fob her off for not being a rich sheep to be fleeced. She was a long way from well off, but her tiny savings meant she had to watch every dime and his cheap and cheerful commercial had finally convinced her to take the plunge.
"Come in," Fawnia replied happily, moving backward to allow him entry, her right hand open in an extended-arm gesture of unspoken 'mi casa es su casa'. She felt a little nervous but pleasantly so now that he'd arrived and they could continue their business from when he'd hurriedly called short their last meeting. At the time, she'd worried she'd scared him off, with her blonde-bimbo ignorance of her legal rights, but she'd quashed that thought once she realised he'd probably had something high-level on his mind. Lawyers must have a really crazy workload, after all.
Inviting him here had been her decision for a couple of reasons; economy and speculation. She was tired of being alone, and the possibility of him potentially being interested in a one-night stand just for the hell of it, had flavoured her choice of venue to meet. She'd been moderately keen on him in the bar, and the disappointment when he'd had to rush off initially did a number on her self-confidence. Something about him reassured her that he wasn't a creep or a pervert, and that had been enough to convince her maybe it was time for her to finally break the hoodoo of her ex and start to mingle again.
She still looked good; being blonde and trim-figured with a nice rack helped, and she knew he'd been eyeing off her cleavage surreptitiously at Tito's, but she HAD dressed to impress. She'd worn a low-cut top, a simple turquoise and silver necklet that just so happened to draw the eye downward to her cleavage, and worn her hair loose so it brushed the skin of her shoulders as she moved. He'd been polite enough not to ogle, but the occasional dip of his eyes as she drank her cocktail had been telling, and had given her the idea to consider him as a 'maybe'. Tonight, she hoped he'd stay, not caring if he thought she was a hussy. She wasn't sure if he would though, but at this point, Fawnia felt she had nothing to lose, she'd been without a lover for years and she wasn't getting any younger. Or getting any, PERIOD, she reminded herself sourly as her thoughts returned to the present.
"Despite being cheesy and predictable, I didn't want to turn up empty handed," Jimmy proffered immediately, pausing on the threshold, the dewy-skinned bottle of wine held out to her. Taking it, Fawnia remembered he preferred to not be called by his professional moniker, 'Saul' but by his actual given name, Jimmy, despite the sensitive matter of his brother's law firm wishing to avoid confusion with Jimmy's once he'd branched out on his own.
She'd asked him about it when he made a passing flippant comment as they'd begun to talk at the bar, something about 'playing happy families'. He'd asked her to call him Jimmy, as just because his brother Chuck thought he should use a different name than the one he'd been born with, Jimmy had firmly stated that he could get bent. He'd worked hard to get where he was, and having to use an alias didn't sit well with him, just to keep his brother happy. Fawnia was sure she'd seen a flicker of something in the undercurrent of his expression that told of far more that she didn't know, but that was his business, and nothing to do with her, so she respected his privacy.
"So how did you come to pick 'Saul' for a name?" she'd asked, genuinely interested in his reply. She'd been pleasantly aware of the effect her low-cut top and how her bright red fingernails played with the straw of her cocktail seemed to have on his concentration levels, and mentally cheered herself with an unspoken 'you still got it, girl!'.
"What do people say when things are going positively for them?" he'd asked, waiting for a few moments to sip his own drink, one he said was called a 'rusty nail', and just the thing when he felt like getting mildly hammered. After a few seconds of silence, where he'd paused to give her time to think of an answer, Fawnia had shaken her head to indicate there wasn't anything she could think of that might have some link to the name 'Saul'.
"I've no idea. Tell me!"
"They say 'It's all good, man!' S'all goodman, get it?" he grinned, pleased by his own wit and a heartbeat later, Fawnia had had to swallow quickly or otherwise spit the sip of her Margarita all over the table.
"Oh my God, that's brilliant!" she had enthused, laughing openly, noticing how Jimmy seemed to bask in the compliment. Just another example of the man's intelligence, she reminded herself, leaving the memory in favour of handling the present situation with him here with her again.
"Oh, thank you! Wow, it's still cold," she exclaimed happily, the beads of moisture on the smooth, deep green glass instantly cooling her palm as she ushered him inside and closed and locked the door. "How are you, Jimmy?" she added, daring to go in for a peck on the cheek, feeling his warm peck in return, the minimum social grace required of the gesture not lost on her. She didn't care, she was going to try to work her wiles on him anyway, it was long overdue.
"Couldn't be better," he answered cheerily, that showman's grin creasing his face in a way she couldn't help find appealing. Despite her love-child name, Fawnia wasn't into all that new-wave hippy garbage about reading palms, auras or star sign compatibility, but she did know that laugh lines spoke well of a man's character. She had no idea how old he was, but guessed they were much of a muchness, age-wise. His mouth quirked to one side a lot of the time, especially when he was thinking, and faint vertical creases above his straight, well-proportioned nose hinted at stubbornness or strong emotion. She felt like brushing his swept-aside hair off his face when a stray lock refused to remain in place, but that would be just a little too intimate so she refrained.
He was wearing the same suit she'd seen him in last week, but his pale lemon shirt was clean and pressed, and the subtle echo of his aftershave clung to her skin where their cheeks had pressed together moments ago. He seemed in high spirits and at ease, so she took another hypothetical bull by the horns and dared to take his fingertips in the hand not holding the wine bottle. Tellingly, his palm seemed as clammy as hers, so maybe he was nervous too and somehow that made Fawnia feel more in control and confident as she led him toward the kitchen.
"Would you like to leave your coat off? It's so warm," she asked politely, releasing him as she moved across the room to stow the wine on the top shelf of the aged Kelvinator.
"Don't mind if I do," Jimmy asserted, divesting himself of the coat and draping it over an easy chair on the way as he followed her into the kitchen. Even his economy of movement pleased her, it seemed almost graceful, but unaffectedly so. He moved with purpose, but not like a man who was hoping people noticed, which was an odd thing given his gung-ho manner. Another contradiction!
"How was work?" Fawnia asked, hands taking up a long-handled spoon to fish the last few reluctant stuffed olives out of the jar so she could place them on the tapas tray she'd prepared.
"Oh, you know, just handling the day-to-day clientele of the Law Court's appointed rounds, most of which have zero idea of how much trouble they're in, and how hard I'm gonna work to get them out of it," he replied breezily, adding after a pause, "I swear some of these 'fine, upstanding citizens' just learned how to walk upright last week."
She laughed, not reflexively, but in appreciation for his dry wit and how speedily these replies seemed to come to him. Maybe this was an old routine, shared with every client the same way, but she didn't care if it were or not. He was too observant of human foibles and characters to pass up an opportunity to gently poke fun without being arrogantly obnoxious about it. Unlike her ex, she reminded herself, mentally rolling her eyes. God, why on Earth had she even compared the two of them?
"I thought we might have a light bite to eat al fresco on the deck; it's cooler out there now the sun's going down. Would you like a drink to go with the tapas? I figured we'd save the wine you so generously provided with dinner, if that's OK with you?"
"Sounds perfect," Jimmy smiled, "so what can I tote and carry to get us settled?" Fawnia liked that he wasn't above social niceties and seemed keen to help.
"Grab a bottle from the icebox door; take your pick. There's a few to choose from, but sorry, no rusty nails," she laughed, referring to their short first meeting at Tijo's. "Head on through to the patio, I'll be with you in a minute," she gestured to the sliding door she'd opened just before he arrived.
"No problem, what are you having?"
"Think I'll slum it with a beer," Fawnia giggled, adding some finishing touches to the tray. "Grab me a Santa Fe, if you would, please?" Jimmy opened the icebox, took a moment to make his own selection, then grabbed a bottle for Fawnia. She noted he too had chosen a beer, so he wasn't into spritzers or fancy drinks but seemed to prefer the basics. No fripperies, if you didn't count his garish ties or shirts... "Dinner'll be steak fried chicken," she added, "I figure everyone likes that," pleased at Jimmy's exaggeratedly appreciative reaction of two thumbs up, which he somehow managed without dropping the beers. Truly a man of skill, she giggled to herself.
"Ah, a very good month, if I'm not mistaken," he said, suddenly inspecting the label of the beer and affecting a fruity British upper-class type accent as effectively as any snobby wine connoisseur. "Not too harsh on the palate, a delightful hint of hops… and a high enough alcohol content to get you blitzed by the fourth drink," he finished, dropping the accent at the end, and making her laugh anew. "I shall await you on the Terrace," he announced loftily, nose in the air and with a toss of his head that brought a peal of laughter from her, he strode through the opened sliding door to the little deck, Fawnia on his heels with the small platter and serviettes.
"So, this smooth-brained individual refuses to leave you in peace, despite having been the one to terminate the relationship, what, three years ago?" Jimmy summarised, all business now the pleasantries had been completed and the detritus of their snacking was all that was left of the tapas. He was all ears, attentive to her slightly heightened emotional state, both of them having risen from the table to enjoy the view of the darkling sky of a dying day behind the hills. The scent of sagebrush and warm earth rose from the surrounding landscape, drifting through the air as the dusk breeze erased the blistering, dusty scent of the brittle heat of the day. The telling of the tale had been enough to draw disgusted yet non-committal sounds from Jimmy's throat as Fawnia related the harassment her ex had relentlessly subjected her to. She hadn't thought just talking about her ex would have agitated her to this degree, and she'd vacated her cushioned timber seat to stand at the edge of the deck, her hands resting on the horizontal railing so she could gaze at the blue and twilight-purple hills.
"Yup," she huffed, "and I'm fed up with his bullshit." She shifted her feet, taking a firmer stance, her determination to end this harassment all too apparent in her tone. Jimmy stood and joined her, his sombre facial expression mirrored hers as they stood side by side, beers on coasters on the railing. The barely discernible high-pitched squeak of a tiny cielago reached her ears from somewhere nearby as the miniscule winged creature hunted for moths and flying insects for its supper. Night time belonged to the wildlife, who lived for the evenings and slept through the blazing heat of the day.
"I can draw up a 'Cease and Desist', sent registered mail so he HAS to sign for it to accept it," he gestured expansively, adding conspiratorially, "which is legally binding, by the way, as once he receives it, he can't claim no prior knowledge or that he didn't get it. If he's as mentally unencumbered by common sense as you say he is, that should be enough to give him pause. You know, agitate the few active brain cells he has left so he understands a breach means you can go after him legally… which I will allude to. Often a warning of this nature is sufficient to ensure any unwanted, continued engagement, shall we say, comes to a halt. But," he paused, his right index finger extended in caution, "there's always the chance he won't take the warning and will ramp up his actions, in which case you call ME in the first instance, ASAP."
"That sounds intimidating enough to get the message across," she agreed, feeling hope that a legal letter would be enough to shut her ex up for good.
"And all for the one-time, up-front, low cost of $400 US," Jimmy finished grandiosely with a wide smile, hands and arms slightly raised at his sides as if in triumph.
"Four hundred, huh," Fawnia winced, dismayed that she hadn't considered this financial aspect would be needed so pressingly; she'd been more focussed on planning this second 'date'. She'd been more concerned with reading how he might feel about being invited to share her bed once she finally plucked up the courage to. She hadn't thought he might propose the costs up front. Lips slightly pursed, she sighed. "I hadn't really considered that kind of expense, not right now," she said carefully, cringing mentally at her ineptitude. "I mean, I don't expect it to be free or anything, and I'm so incredibly grateful you've offered me a solution, but I don't have four hundred dollars on me right at the moment…" Then, before her brain considered how her next words might be interpreted, she blurted "Any chance of an alternative payment method?"
For a nano-second, a wide grin spread across Jimmy's face, quickly pulled into a neutral expression within moments. Oh Christ, he'd read it just the way she'd hoped he wouldn't! "Well, I could make a concession for a friend," he mused, eyeing her carefully, emphasising the word 'friend', "taking into account you're about to wine and dine me per se, but I couldn't go below 10% off," he added hurriedly, his rapid-fire delivery emphasised by another uplifted cautionary index finger, as if in warning not to expect anything more.
"I meant like, lay away or something," she blurted, trying to explain her intent, realising as the blood rushed to her face exactly how her words had sounded… and that this was a man who excelled at meanings and wordplay who obviously knew just that. Cursing inwardly, she raised her hand to press against her forehead, feeling her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Hell, well, she'd had designs on him all week, might as well just let him think what he liked, it might even work in her favour. "That… didn't come out the way I meant it to," she added feebly, but her cheeks were flaming red and clearly he hadn't missed THAT either. "I don't want to seem ungrateful, but…" Fawnia dared to ask, trailing off into silence at her chutzpah. Damn, what if she'd insulted him?
"I'm sure we can figure something out vis a vis good will – 15% if you're happy to write a check for $340, which covers my fee, filing, postal charges…" he trailed off, his confident voice reassuring her he was on her side when it mattered, until he saw her crestfallen expression. "Oh hell, make it $300", he sighed gustily, as if surprised by this uncharacteristic generosity.
A burst of gratitude swelled inside Fawni's chest, matched by relief. $300 she could afford, just, and laughing out an "I accept!", she reached to shake on it, pumped his hand twice to seal the deal, then impulsively reached to embrace him in a hug. So quickly did she react, that clearly Jimmy hadn't thought how to respond to her approach, and they both moved their heads aside… to his right.
Her nose mashed into his, sparking a mini-explosion of bright light and pain that filled her face as they collided. As one, they yelped and pulled apart, both cradling their bruised noses until the pain subsided. Blinking away tears from her watering eyes, Fawnia groaned out a chagrined "Sorry! Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Jimmy!" His eyes were screwed up, his face mildly contorted in that way someone in pain shows the unexpected effects of nothing else mattering right now but getting past it.
Blinking away tears of his own, Jimmy cautiously tested the bridge of his nose with two fingers, feeling for anything that might indicate a trip to his physician might be in order to repair a broken nose. Fortunately, it didn't appear to be overly bad, but Fawnia had to be sure. "Please tell me you're OK," she breathed, her own hand muffling her words a little as she felt the extent of her own minor injury. Christ, headbutting a LAWYER, of ALL people! She chastened herself as the horrifying threat of a lawsuit hovered briefly in her mind.
"Doesn't seem to be too bad," Jimmy sighed, adding ruefully, but with his usual aplomb. "At least it's not gushing like a Texan wildcat oilrig, so hold off on calling Red Adair. How about you?"
"I'm fine, just smelled a whole new array of smells I never did before," she groaned, though the pain was receding already. By the way he dropped his hand, Jimmy seemed to be over the worst too, but she still felt terrible. "I'm so sorry, do you need an ice bag or anything?" she asked anxiously, one hand on his shoulder, worried eyes on his.
"Nah, I've had bigger hits than that over the years," he winced at the memories, but already his smile was returning.
"Are you sure?" Fawnia pressed, suddenly thinking she had nothing to lose, now the technical details of her legal options had been agreed on, even if via a painful clash of faces. Impulsively, she felt now was one of those times to continue as she'd meant to start off, even if precipitated slightly by circumstance. Right now, she felt terrible, but she also felt an overriding desire to take care of him, since their injuries were all her fault. She felt something else too, something she was attempting to subdue, but it kept rising up, dominating her emotions, the more she looked into his eyes. Those serious, slightly worried, hazel eyes…
"Totally sure, don't worry about it, accidents-"
"Oh hell…" Fawnia hesitated only a moment, her words overriding his. "I never was much good at reading social cues." Meeting his eyes, she raised her hands, placing their palms on either side of his face so she couldn't reproduce the same shitty luck she'd just dealt them. Before she had time to think or question her timing, she held his head firmly in place, leaned forward, tilted BOTH their faces in opposite directions and kissed him gently on the mouth.
Whether he was surprised at her timing or still in disbelief at what she'd done she'd never know, but when she withdrew, dropping her hands and taking a half step back giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted, she exulted when he didn't. Instead, he raised his hands exactly as she had with him, cupped her cheeks and leaned in for another, far more lingering kiss. Fawnia wanted to sigh gustily with relief, but not after the deli meats and peppers they'd finished snacking on only minutes before, but something began a slow burn in her at his response. When he eventually did release her, his expression was speculative yet, those vertical 'I want' lines between his eyebrows spoke of the seriousness of his intent.
"You do realise this jeopardises our Lawyer/Client relationship, which may not be appropriate," he said quietly, yet firmly, trying for a formal tone and not quite managing it.
"Yup," Fawnia husked, not really caring, doing nothing to move away. Her hands had already snaked around his shoulders as she pressed herself into the warmth of his chest. She only wanted more, and the solidity of his body against hers was intoxicating, even with layers of clothing separating their skins.
"Then avoiding a breach of professional conduct is paramount, as you have placed your trust in me to behave according to my duty to the administration of justice," Jimmy said soberly.
"Yeah, I have," she breathed, eyes drinking in his internal struggle as she felt her own response to their bodily proximity. "AND, I agree to put myself in your capable hands." There, she'd said it, it didn't get any clearer than that.
"Do you really want me to stop?" he said solemnly, eyes pleading, giving her the final call, his tone low and serious, and she knew he was hoping she'd say no. Just as well really, as she had no intention of stopping now. Fawnia read the emotions sparking between them, aware of the conflict warring inside him, while all the while, his eyes held hers, his breath coming in little rapid rises and falls that she felt all too clearly.
"Hell no," she husked "and we've already concluded the agreement so there's no conflict of interest…even though I'm fully aware of your professional desire to avoid any conflict…"
"Fawn, my desire is anything BUT professional right now," he fired back with his usual wit, his open admission proving his defence was weakening.
"Didn't you tell me it was your responsibility to follow a client's lawful, proper and competent instructions?" Fawnia breathed, happy to play along now the rules of engagement had been clearly established.
"I did, yes…"
One long, red painted index fingernail on his lips prevented further conversation. "Didn't you say a lawyer must always act in a client's best interests?" Jimmy only nodded mutely, his eyes telegraphing his agreement and commitment to this path, a slow, lopsided smile brushing her fingertip away.
"Then carry out your instructions efficiently and in my best interests in accordance with the law," she finished, sliding one hand lower down his back, the other pressing his head toward hers, her fingers gently caressing the hair at the nape of his neck. A moment later, Jimmy's hands slid down her arms to find their place on her rump, drawing her into his body as much as his enthusiastically applied kiss. Preliminary investigations completed, she broke the kiss breathlessly, looking up at him with desire in every pore, lost as she was in the moment. Wordlessly she took his hand and led him away from the deck railing, pausing only long enough to allow him to pull the sliding door closed behind them, shutting out the last hint of lowering evening.
"I think I have a potential name for this untoward payment system," he grinned, allowing himself to be led toward her waiting bedroom, his drawl sensual. "Fawnia-cation…"
She had had no expectations of what kind of lover Jimmy might have been, but his hunger for her body and the peaceful afterglow which followed pleased her. He lay on his side at her back, the two of them curled like spoons, idly stroking her shoulder with one finger as their breathing slowed, and the lassitude of relaxation overtook desire. He'd ably demonstrated he knew his way around a woman's body and how to stoke the fires that flamed into life at his touch. In return, she'd given him as much touch as he'd seemed so hungry for, both of the sensual kind and the softer, less demanding stuff.
She wondered how he'd got that knowledge, then chided herself. Obviously, women liked him and the feeling was reciprocal, but this didn't dismay her. Any lover who knew what they were doing and performed generously to provide pleasure as well as take it was welcome in her books. Silently she thanked the universe for his diligence and experience, feeling charitable now she was physically sated and smugly satisfied she'd got what she wanted.
"Do you ever feel like being the little spoon?" she murmured softly, basking in her appreciation of his presence in her rumpled bed. In reply, she felt the zephyr of his soft laugh across her ear as he wordlessly rolled onto his back. Hitching herself onto her side, she curled against him, glad of the evening coolness. They'd raised a lot of perspiration not long ago and it felt blissful to feel the overhead fan cooling their blushing skins.
His body was a joy to her, nicely proportioned, and with just enough flesh to feel comfortably solid as he'd brought her to bliss beneath him. She yawned, giggling when he followed suit a few seconds later, remembering how much frantic effort had been expended minutes before and how willingly and openly. From this angle, that drift of sandy hair stuck to his forehead and able to finally appease the desire to smooth it free, Fawnia sighed contentedly. Resting her head on the plane of his chest below his collarbone, she laid her right hand over his heart, feeling the strong throb.
"Am I still alive?" he asked, eyes still closed, that lopsided smile telegraphing his content.
"Do I look like a doctor to you?" she teased, smiling against his skin and applying a kiss.
"Doctor looooove, maybe," Jimmy replied, drawing out the word before huffing in amusement.
"I should haul myself out to the kitchen and start making dinner. Pretty sure we expended enough energy just now to not feel guilty about stuffing ourselves," Fawnia sighed reluctantly.
"I could eat a horse and go after the rider," Jimmy agreed, opening his right eye a smidge and making Fawnia grin. "Do I need to slap you on the rump or something to get you moving?" he joked, that devilishly wicked grin of his stirring her into matching humour.
"Only if you're into that sort of thing… wait…ARE you into that sort of thing?" she pretended mock surprise as she raised her head to look him in the eye.
"I guess I could… if there was lots of cash being tossed around at the same time… leather's expensive, and bruises can be hard to explain to clients…" his voice trailed off.
"Sticks and stones will break my bones, but whips and chains excite me, huh?" Fawnia recited, gently tweaking his nipple and making him jump.
"Easy lady, don't damage the goods, or I'll have to charge," he retorted in mock outrage, before closing his eye again and drawing her closer with his right arm.
"Thanks, for everything, by the way," Fawnia said gently, tilting her head back so she could enjoy the happily exhausted look of him. She didn't know if she should try to kiss him again now it wasn't in the heat of the moment so to speak, but damn, she wanted to. "I kind of like living here and I'm tired of running from that pain in the ass."
"Fawn, if he insists on causing trouble, you tell me. I know a guy who knows a guy who will be only too happy to make your ex-knuckle-dragger think twice about giving you grief. Trust me, you won't need to move house again."
"New Mexico's so pretty and easy-going compared to L.A.," Fawnia sighed, deciding that a kiss on his chin would suffice and delivering it without further thought. "Sure, there's some criminal activity and idiots waving guns around from time to time, but if you stay out of trouble, you're good."
"S'all good, man," Jimmy drawled, adding "Don't trouble trouble, and trouble won't trouble you. My Dad used to say that," he explained. "Man worked hard, ended up in trouble enough, but sent my brother to law school. I followed the tradition some years later, and here I am, one of New Mexico's finest." His not-quite-sarcastic tone held a trace of something she couldn't interpret, but Fawnia didn't press him, knowing there was already tension between Jimmy and his family.
"So your family's from New Mexico?" she asked, interested in learning anything about him while he was in this easy-talking mood.
"Negative, doc," he replied, closing his eyes again, a ghost of a frown emphasising the net of wrinkles on his forehead. He didn't speak further, only took a deep breath and released it, as if recalling something difficult. Fawnia felt his heart rate speed up and guessed that was about as much personal info she was going to hear from him this evening. What was it in this contradiction of a man that appealed to her so much? He was loud, in-your-face, and didn't hold back on his estimation of a person's character or behaviour, yet this softer side spoke of a man with his own history, and not necessarily an easy one.
He'd wanted to please her in bed and that was obviously something Fawnia felt that came naturally to him, and that there wasn't some 'gotta impress' fears behind it. He'd taken his time and made sure she hit the heights before he let himself do the same, but there had been that moment afterward where she'd felt like he was asking for permission to ask for more. After collapsing to the sheets, he'd murmured "Wanna snuggle?" before doing so, but maybe he was just being considerate of the fact it was still warmish. Whatever was behind it, she'd been pleasantly agreeable, enjoying the sensation of having a man in her bed who idly yet gently smoothed his palm down the contours of her body.
Such a change… she thought again, but plenty of people put up a defensive front to the world to protect and hide their softer sides. Coming from L.A., she'd seen the fakery on thousands of faces, knowing it was all one big popularity contest with everyone vying for that spotlight of attention, all of the time. Maybe it was the same with Jimmy, his professional persona being his bread and butter, after all, so it made sense he needed time to simply be himself, without defences against a world that was often unforgiving.
Stroking her hand across his finely haired chest, Fawnia kissed his skin and murmured "Stay here, I'll get dinner on," before rolling over to dress as she sat on the edge of the mattress. A little sound of agreement from behind her made her smile anew as she pulled on her garments and padded out the door barefooted. Turning for one last look, she drank in the sight of him, a pang of bittersweet emotion coursing through her for several heartbeats. Yeah, he was a contradiction alright, but an intriguing and welcome one. She'd probably never get to enjoy another night like this with him which made her wistful, but she was incredibly glad she'd taken the plunge, one night stand or not. It'd all been worth it, and knowing that his skills had most likely put an end to her ex's fuckery filled her with buoyant happiness.
Quietly she turned on the lights and prepared dinner, the aroma of the frying steak wafting through the house as Fawnia collected their beer bottles and the detritus of their snacking from the table outside. Washing up the few things she'd used, she found herself thinking of the lyrics to a Rolling Stones song, making her smile and sigh in acceptance of this lovely afternoon.
"You can't always get what you want… you can't always get what you want… you can't always get what you want… but if you try sometimes, you just might find… you get what you need…"
Turning her head at a soft sound from the dining room behind her, Fawnia smiled happily.
"Lawdy, that sure smells good!" he crowed, once again clothed and whole. Jimmy-the-lawyer was back, she laughed to herself, content to appreciate his presence for as long as he stayed. "D'you want a hand with anything?"
"No, everything's almost ready," she smiled, "but you could grab the wine and some glasses," she gestured towards the cabinet beside the icebox.
"Consider it done," Jimmy affirmed, doing just that while Fawnia removed the steaks from the pan, briefly rested them on some absorbent paper towels, then transferred them to their waiting plates alongside the buttered green beans and potato salad. Carrying them into the dining area, she lay them on the woven placemats next to the cutlery she'd put out earlier, and turned on the two lamps on either end of the low buffet behind her.
Jimmy had already uncorked the bottle and graciously poured the sparkling beverage into their wine glasses. "Will madame be wanting the rest of the bottle?" he asked solicitously, an expression of Maitre'D levels of hauteur on his face.
"Hell yes," Fawnia answered, laughing, and seating herself, Jimmy following a moment after. "There'll be no survivors I assure you!"
They ate, talking of inconsequential things, and cleaned their plates without any trouble, the empty wine bottle likewise telling of a good meal well enjoyed. Jimmy excused himself briefly, returning to their conversation peppered with what Fawnia thought of as 'Jimmy-isms'. Though she'd enjoyed the evening immensely, it was maybe time to give him his freedom to leave. Glancing at the starburst clock on the wall behind her dinner companion, she was startled to notice the time – past ten; they'd been talking for three hours.
"Well, I guess we should call it a night, it's a work day tomorrow," she said easily, rising to collect the dinner things. Jimmy intercepted her hands to claim the cutlery, glasses and empty wine bottle, following her to the kitchen bench.
"Another day, another twenty-one hundred dollars," he quipped.
"Jesus, you high-falutin' legal types got it made," Fawnia rolled her eyes, thinking of her own meagre income by comparison. "Wish I earned that much!" Jimmy paused for a few moments, looking at her from under that wayward curtain of hair that refused to stay in place, before his wickedly hopeful grin resurfaced. Impulsively, she added "It's kind of late; you're welcome to stay the night, you know," putting on the demeanour of a breathless bimbo, all breathy and fluttering eyelashes.
"Maybe that's something we should discuss in the bed- I mean board room," he grinned, "Pretty sure the traffic from here won't keep me from my appointed rounds on the morrow."
"I'll set the alarm," Fawnia laughed, overjoyed at the prospects of having him for a little longer, the insinuated offer of further trysts driving her desire higher. Stepping into her arms and kissing her soundly, Jimmy caressed her, his voice low at her throat in between nuzzlings.
"No need, this alarm never fails," he guided her hand below his belt, her low laugh raising goosebumps. "In fact, you could say, it goes off like clockwork…" he grinned, laughing as another thought clearly crossed his mind. Sighing dramatically and shaking his head in mock disbelief, Jimmy teased "Unorthodox method, but I'll allow it. The lengths some people will go to to work off their legal fees…"