See part 1 ("Another Woman") for disclaimer.
The Friendship Cycle Seven: Familiar with the Concept
By Ginger
*Delaware is 3,000 miles in the OPPOSITE direction!*
It was 3:43 a.m. and Jarod was wide awake on the last night of his stay in Los Angeles. His latest pretend was over and he had a plane to catch in a few hours, but *which* plane was the source of some angst. He chewed his lip as he stared at the flight itinerary on the computer screen then stole a guilty sideward glance at the airline ticket lying beside his laptop.
Jarod frowned. He knew what he had to do: he'd promised and, under the circumstances, it was the very least he could do. Because of changes in his personal life his family had been completely uprooted and, although disappointed, they had all been fairly good natured about the whole thing. Now that they were settled in a new location with the new identities he had created for them, it was hardly unreasonable to expect a visit. So it was beyond question: Jarod would spend the next two weeks on Kauai where, under the guise of a recently-retired pilot and single father, the Major was flying for a small company ferrying tourists to and from the big island.
The problem was that thoughts of islands in general always brought him back to one island in particular - Bainbridge Island - and that perfect night he'd spent with her. In addition to reminding him how much he missed her, such reminiscences tended to have a powerful physiological effect on him. Or, as Argyle so succinctly put it when Jarod confided his predicament in a recent telephone conversation,
"Jay-Man's got his horns up!"
While he remained perplexed by his odd friend's reference to horns, he could not ignore the fact that a certain part of his anatomy was frequently *up* these days. It was affecting his ability to concentrate and that was never a good thing for him or the people around him. Maybe a couple weeks of relaxation with the family would help but he doubted it. Sighing longingly, Jarod leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head, and shut his eyes then allowed his mind to drift back to those hours of pure happiness he'd experienced exactly thirty-three days earlier.
* * * *
He was both delighted and terrified when she agreed to accompany him to the house: delighted because things were progressing as well if not better than he'd hoped, and terrified because he was suddenly faced with the very real prospect of making love to Miss Parker. It wasn't a matter of performance anxiety in the strictest sense; their physical contact thus far had gone extremely well and if chemistry were any indication then everything was likely to be in order. He was more concerned about saying something awkward or silly. When it came to sexual matters she was far more experienced and sophisticated than he, and probably had the same high standards when it came to the art of seduction that she had with regard to everything else.
The short car ride was as silent as the earlier one, only this time Parker was the picture of relaxation and Jarod was the nervous wreck. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she casually placed her hand on his knee and gave it a playful squeeze. Even though she was looking away from him he detected her smirk but did not comment. Her hand stayed right where it was for the remainder of the journey.
He wasn't feeling any more suave when they got to the house but did manage to offer her coffee or a cold drink, both of which she politely declined. Then, for lack of a better idea, he proceeded to show her around the place. Taking her by the hand he led her room to room, conducting a thorough tour that included several closets and the kitchen pantry. Although she was trying very hard, Jarod could tell that Parker was struggling to contain her amusement by the time he'd mustered the courage to lead her up the steps to the loft that comprised the master bedroom. And yet he couldn't seem to stop himself from pointing out each and every salient feature of the spacious, well-appointed room. When he finally got to the most prominent piece of furniture, he gestured toward it and muttered,
"And that's the... well, you know."
Taking a moment to inspect the item in question, she turned to him and observed with complete deadpan,
"Yes, that would indeed appear to be a bed."
Pivoting, she unceremoniously flopped onto her back and kicked off her shoes. Propping herself up on her elbows and issuing one of her *What's it gonna be, Jarod?* looks, Parker asked,
"Anything else you wanna show me, Wonderboy?"
Maybe it was her devilish facial expression. Maybe it was the inviting tone of her voice. Most likely it was a combination of the two but, whatever it was, it provided a welcome boost to his confidence. Leaning forward he placed his hands on either side of her body and, hovering over her, answered huskily,
"Why, yes, Miss Parker, there is."
From then on, events took on a sort of slow motion, dreamlike quality, or at least they did when he looked back on them later. It seemed amazing to him that he could spend years dreaming about, months hoping for, and weeks planning something, and still find himself wholly unprepared for the reality of the experience.
There was the awe he felt when he pulled her sweater over her head to reveal an expanse of delicate, ivory skin so soft to the touch it made him gasp with delight. He had no idea her voice could be as small and tender as it was when she whispered his name and other things for his ears only. In his wildest dreams, he'd never imagined Parker letting him take the lead, allowing Jarod to revel in slowly peeling away every stitch of her clothing and savoring every inch of exposed flesh as though he were a condemned man and she his last meal.
Yet nothing could prepare him for the moment when he entered her body. The sublime pleasure of completing sexual union with a thoroughly amazing and totally gorgeous creature was heightened by the way her eyes - the color of eternity like a cloudless sky - grew unusually large and welcoming and conveyed a simple but powerful message:
*Take me.*
Jarod shuddered as a wave of pure animal lust coursed through him. Parker emitted a small gasp and trembled in response, which prompted him to abandon all rational thought and listen to the commands being issued by his agonizingly aroused body. He began to move, slowly at first but not for long, inside her... inside her... inside her. And for several perfect moments as his eyes remained locked on hers, inside her was the only place that existed.
* * * *
He opened his eyes, glanced down at his lap, and sighed wistfully. With a slight wince and a low groan, he leaned forward in his seat to left click on the touch pad of his laptop, thereby selecting the little blue box with the white lettering that read:
*Book this Trip*
Sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms at his chest, Jarod whispered guiltily,
"Sorry, Dad, but it will just be a couple of days, I promise."
* * * *
Cursing under her breath, Parker moved swiftly about the room putting the finishing touches on her ensemble. Pausing to steal one last look in the mirror she swore aloud when she noticed her bare earlobes. Slapping down her bag and wrap, she hastily dug into her jewelry box in search of the pair of obscenely expensive diamond and platinum earrings Daddy had given her for her thirtieth birthday. She didn't wear them often - they weren't what one would call practical for everyday in her line of work, or any line of work she could think of except maybe upscale prostitution - but dutifully fished them out of her jewelry box every time she accompanied her father to a social function.
While a bit over-the-top for her tastes, they were exquisitely crafted and of the highest quality, and did make a striking statement with basic black. More importantly, wearing them was a painless way to engender a little goodwill between her father and herself and, these days, Parker figured she needed all the goodwill she could muster. Frowning at that thought she fastened the second earring in place then straightened and took another moment to inspect her appearance.
*Daddy's girl?*
Standing tall in one of her favorite little black dresses - strapless with a tight, exquisitely beaded bodice - she *appeared* to be the same old Miss Parker. A third high quality stone suspended from her long, graceful neck by a velvet cord to make a perfect V on her pale skin. Her hair was swept up in a tight French twist. Her makeup was flawless and, because it was the best on the market and applied correctly, would remain that way all evening with minimal touchup.
All of which left her wondering why she'd dreaded this evening from the moment Daddy had asked her to accompany him, so much so that it had kept her up four nights in a row and compelled her on the previous evening to break her cardinal rule against sleeping pills so she wouldn't show up at the affair looking like the living dead. That would definitely *not* engender goodwill. With a shrug she picked up her plainly elegant Stuart Weitzman evening bag and her mother's black silk wrap - one of only a few items that had survived her father's purge of virtually every vestige of his wife's existence shortly after the "the incident in the elevator" (as Parker now referred to the most horrible moment of her childhood since it could not longer be accurately described as the moment of Catherine's death).
Sighing she turned away from the mirror and lumbered, like a condemned woman going to the gallows in stiletto heels, toward the bedroom door. As she moved, Parker pictured herself stepping out onto the terrace at her father's club and the light hitting her at just the right angle to reveal Jarod's fingerprints on her body, illuminated like iridescent paint under a black light, glowing through her dress and the underwear and stockings beneath. This time the prints were neon yellow but other times they were hot pink, lime green, or a combination of colors. The image had flashed before her many times over the last few days, having initially come to her as she stood in her father's office and, perhaps nodding a bit too manically and smiling a tad too broadly, proclaimed,
*"Of course, Daddy, I'd love to."*
The sigh of resignation Parker emitted as she yanked open her bedroom door evolved into a startled gasp as she came face to face with a grinning Jarod. He blinked a few times as he processed her appearance then his face fell.
"What are you doing here? The sun isn't even down yet. Are you nuts?"
"I... I..." He sighed dejectedly and stated, "I take it you're going out."
"Well it wasn't as though I was expecting you."
She noted the absurdity of the words even as she spoke them. It wasn't as though she ever *expected* him. They didn't exactly pencil each other in on their respective calendars.
"Fuck," she muttered, her shoulders slumping as she turned and ambled back into the bedroom.
Following her Jarod offered, "I'm sorry, I probably should have checked to see if you were *available* tonight."
Although he was dying to know, he did not ask where she was going or with whom. Was Herr Langer back in town? His chest tightened; the evening wasn't going at all as he'd planned. In a tone that conveyed his raw need he observed,
"You look positively stunning."
*This is torture,* Parker thought as she took in the pure, unadulterated hunger in his eyes. She noticed for the first time the paper bag in his hand and knew it contained a box of condoms, maybe two... always so thoughtful. She glanced at the open door leading out to the hallway and felt an ache building inside her. She didn't want to go; she wanted to close the door, shed the veneer she had spent the last hour plastering on, fall into his arms, and remain there for the next several hours or, better yet, days. Dropping her arms to her sides in a gesture of regret she attempted to explain,
"I've got to go. Daddy's expecting... and I can't afford to piss him off... I have to keep up..."
"I know," he interjected softly as he nodded ruefully.
"Be here when I get back?" She forced her mouth into a shape that vaguely approximated a smile.
"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."
Parker blinked in surprise but did not become angry or defensive, probably because she understood all too well the disappointment and frustration behind his words. Her lack of defensiveness made Jarod immediately regret those words. He hadn't intended to be harsh but the prospect of having to wait another minute, let alone hours, to be with her was almost too much to bear. Still, it was lousy of him: he knew for a fact that she took no pleasure in the little chores she felt compelled to do for her father, and it wasn't as though she'd gotten all dressed up to appear on the arm of Langer, or any other man who, unlike Jarod, was in a position to enjoy the privilege of being out in public with her.
"I'm sorry, I..."
She cut him off by stepping forward and placing a quick but tender kiss to his lips. Stepping back she commanded softly,
"Be here when I get back."
Jarod narrowed his eyes and shook his head gravely then grabbed Parker around her tiny waist and pulled her into a hot, punishing kiss. She knew he was messing up her makeup but couldn't bring herself to care as she melted into his arms and her hands, still clutching her purse and wrap, fell limply to her sides. A voice in her head chanted, *He's not going to let you go! You HAVE to go!* a few times before he released her lips but retained the tight grip on her body. Pressing his mouth to her ear, he warned in a voice heavy with desire,
"Don't make me wait too long."
Her eyes fluttering shut for an instant, she nodded. He finally released her and she made her way slowly toward the door. Jarod noted the slight wobble in her first few steps and smiled. Parker soon regained her composure though, and was controlled and graceful as ever when she exited the room without looking back.
* * * *
*I swear, his forehead looks like a tarp pulled over a ballfield during a summer downpour.*
Since rendering herself unconscious with alcohol was out of the question, Parker resolved to get through the evening by selecting an object and focusing on it completely. She hoped it would help keep her mind off Jarod and ignore the constant buzzing of her own body. The item she had chosen was the shiny, bald forehead of one Timothy Soderz, a criminally boring millionaire Daddy had left her at the mercy of before bidding adieu to join the other speakers at the head table. She figured if this guy's sweaty noggin couldn't dampen her ardor then nothing could. And so she sat sipping demurely at her wine but not touching a bite of her food and, with a serene smile plastered on her face, pretended to hang on Mr. Soderz's every word while methodically counting the beads of moisture on his forehead.
"Blah... blah... blah... blah... simulations."
That got her attention and Parker actually tuned him in for a moment, leaning slightly forward in her seat to offer a gracious,
"Excuse me?"
"Simulations... they've become a real hobby of mine, an obsession really. With the Internet, it's so easy to get started. I sim with people from all over the country, the world even. I was heavy into the military stuff a while back but right now I'm mostly into economic systems, you know, building and un-building national economies. It's great fun! Do you... have you ever..."
"No," Parker interjected as she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "But I am familiar with the concept."
And despite the fact that he talked at her non-stop through five courses, all she knew of Mr. Soderz when the evening's proceedings commenced bringing a merciful end to all inane conversation, was that the man sweats like Elvis after a long Vegas set and likes to pretend. While appearing to direct her full attention to the dais, Parker began to calculate how to make the earliest possible getaway without drawing her father's disapproval.
At the very least, she would have to stay long enough to hear Daddy's speech. A discreet glance at the program lying open in her lap told her that he was fourth in the line-up; she'd have to endure the remarks of two more speakers so lacking in personal charisma as to make Mr. Soderz seem dynamic by comparison. And the drone currently occupying the podium didn't appear to be going anywhere for a while. Parker was in the midst of asking herself what on earth she'd done to deserve this when the supreme irony of the question hit her causing her lips to curl slightly.
* * * *
Parker pulled into the driveway at such a clip that her tires screeched when she hit the brakes. Drumming her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel while waiting for the garage door to open, she contemplated abandoning the car in the driveway but thought better of it because it was out of character and, therefore, could potentially draw unwanted attention.
She expelled a heavy sigh of relief when the door opened then swiftly pulled into the garage. The door closing behind her at the same languorous pace at which it had opened, she went out of her way to look calm and unhurried as she exited the car and strolled toward the door leading into the house, an act which exhausted her now scant supply of self restraint. She was running on fumes.
The moment she had closed and securely locked the door, Parker spun around fiercely and barked,
"You better be here or I'm going to hunt you down and..."
In an instant his hands were on her, the front of his body pressed firmly to the back of hers, his lips, tongue and teeth working the back of her neck and her bare shoulders. She moaned and dropped her purse, wrap and car keys carelessly to the floor. He growled like a wounded animal as he propelled them into the den and toward the sofa; there was no way in hell they were going to make it to the bedroom.
As they stumbled into the room, Jarod's hands were busy: one searched for and located the hidden catch and zipper on her dress, made quick work of them both, and slipped inside to breach the tight, one-piece bustier she wore beneath; the other disappeared up under the hem to attack from another position. All Parker could do was whimper and reach back to clasp her hands at the back of his neck to hold him to her.
When they reached the sofa, Jarod wrenched Parker's dress down her body with her assisting by shimmying then kicking it aside as though it were a rag and not a $1,200 piece of apparel. Then she spun around and, for the first time since her return, two sets of wild eyes met to exchange a desperate, ravenous look. They both appeared poised to speak but it was beyond them in their current state so they reached for each other instead and kissed, falling to the sofa with a soft thud.
There ensued a frantic attempt to divest each other of their clothing. One of Parker's shoes sailed across the room; Jarod must have shed his earlier. She tore open his shirt sending buttons flying in every direction. He managed to yank down the tight bustier but grunted in frustration as her slim hips provided a barrier to removing it completely. His second attempt, coinciding with her frenzied pawing at his belt buckle and fly, tilted them both off balance but neither realized it until they found themselves on the rug.
Their relative positions now reversed - Jarod on his back and Parker astride him - they giggled into each other's mouths. He again yanked at her bustier but she shook her head and, grinning, reached down to unfasten the hooks at the crotch.
"Ingenious," he crooned.
She nodded as she completed the task of unzipping his fly then reached inside to liberate the part of his anatomy she desperately needed to get her hands on. Then something dawned on her and she frowned.
"Shit," she panted. "We forgot..."
This time he smiled and shook his head, digging into his pocket to produce a foil packet.
"Ingenious," Parker purred as she hastily grabbed and tore open the packet then frantically set to work on the task at hand. Jarod moaned as though he were in agony as she completed it.
Neither demonstrated much in the way of technique, their only concern being to get as close to each other and as quickly as the mechanics of human sexuality would allow. Inherently graceful individuals moved gracelessly together, grunting, gasping, and making all sorts of funny noises uncharacteristic of two people who normally maintained strict self-control. It was rough and awkward and so very, very hot and soon Jarod was begging,
"H... hurry... Ah! PLEASE!"
"Please..." Parker echoed, that one syllable drawn out in a hiss as she shuddered all around him.
His eyes immediately clamped shut and his head jerked back violently to press firmly into the rug as he emitted a long, deep growl of satisfaction. The sound was soon muffled by a mouthful of hair that had shaken free from the confinement of pins and hairspray as she collapsed forward into a heap, her face coming to rest against the side of his, her nose pressing against his jaw.
The panting, sweating, quivering mass of their combined flesh remained still for a moment then, with a grunt of exertion, Parker rolled off Jarod and flopped onto her back beside him. Blowing an errant lock of hair from her eyes, she turned her head to look at him.
"Well, that wasn't pretty," she commented with a smirk.
Casting a wry glance at the obscene tableau they made, he replied, "No, it wasn't. Sure felt good, though."
"Mmmm... " she hummed as she finally succeeded in kicking off her other shoe.
* * * *
Clad only in his boxer shorts, Jarod crouched before the hearth tending the fire he'd just built. When it was burning to his satisfaction he stood, set aside the iron poker, turned to her, and smiled. She looked incredibly sexy in the warm glow of firelight.
When they had succeeded in catching their breath they'd set about making themselves more comfortable, so Parker was now sprawled lazily on the sofa wearing only Jarod's shirt and looking every bit like he had just had his wicked, wicked way with her. Which, of course, he had. Her hair was in complete disarray, her skin had a rosy glow, and her eyes sparkled through half-closed lids. Even though only a few minutes earlier he had seriously questioned his capacity to move a muscle for several hours, the very sight of her made him tingle in all the right places. He would need to have her again... very soon.
Pacing toward the sofa, he remarked, "We should have done this years ago."
"Yeah, right."
"So I guess," he began as he climbed onto the couch, careful to distribute most of his weight on the sofa as he nestled into her body, his head pillowing on her upper abdomen just below her breasts.
"I was the *only* one who was plagued with lustful thoughts way back when," he continued, grinning blissfully as he breathed in her scent.
Stroking his hair, Parker snickered and teased, "A-ha! I always *knew* you wanted me!"
"Not always," he replied with mock self-righteousness. "A lot of the time I really wanted to strangle you and, let's face it, when we were together in those days there were usually guns... "
"A lot of guns, sometimes explosives," she concurred with a nod.
"The typical mortal danger and a whole lot of hostility. But once in a while when I was all alone in the dark late at night, I will admit to having entertained the occasional fantasy... you know, when I'd recall the scent of your rain-soaked skin when we were trapped together in Florida, or I happened to think about the sleepy sound of your voice on the other end of the phone at 3:00 a.m."
"Bastard."
He chuckled then lifted his head to rest his chin on her belly. Gazing up at her, he asked, "How about you? Did you ever...?"
"Actually," she replied with a devilish grin. "Now that you mention it, there was this *one* idea that held a certain appeal."
* * * *
"Hey, Dad."
Sitting up in Parker's bed with the sheet pooled around his waist, Jarod spoke softly into his cell phone, nodded at the response he received, and replied,
"I wanted to be sure you got my email. With the time difference and everyone's busy schedules, I thought it was the best way to leave word... Just finished breakfast? Yeah, it's nearly dinnertime here but I only had breakfast a couple hours ago. No, I haven't been out all day... busy, busy, busy... Yup... uh-huh... right... I should be there late Monday. I've just been..."
He lifted his other wrist - off which Parker's handcuffs dangled - and continued with a smirk, "Temporarily detained."
She chose that moment to appear in the bathroom doorway, again donning the shirt Jarod was beginning to suspect he would never get back, not that it was much use to him with most of the buttons torn off. They exchanged a conspiratorial look then he spoke into the phone,
"Speaking of which, Dad, I have to get going." Winking at Parker, he nodded and explained, "Yeah, something's come up. My love to Em and Jon. Enjoy the rest of your weekend... oh, I will... uh-huh. Bye."
"*Something's* come up, eh?" She drawled as she strolled toward the bed.
"Well," Jarod replied wagging his eyebrows. "*Something* inevitably does when you're around."
# # # #
Tbc... Because, apparently, I can't be stopped.
The Friendship Cycle Seven: Familiar with the Concept
By Ginger
*Delaware is 3,000 miles in the OPPOSITE direction!*
It was 3:43 a.m. and Jarod was wide awake on the last night of his stay in Los Angeles. His latest pretend was over and he had a plane to catch in a few hours, but *which* plane was the source of some angst. He chewed his lip as he stared at the flight itinerary on the computer screen then stole a guilty sideward glance at the airline ticket lying beside his laptop.
Jarod frowned. He knew what he had to do: he'd promised and, under the circumstances, it was the very least he could do. Because of changes in his personal life his family had been completely uprooted and, although disappointed, they had all been fairly good natured about the whole thing. Now that they were settled in a new location with the new identities he had created for them, it was hardly unreasonable to expect a visit. So it was beyond question: Jarod would spend the next two weeks on Kauai where, under the guise of a recently-retired pilot and single father, the Major was flying for a small company ferrying tourists to and from the big island.
The problem was that thoughts of islands in general always brought him back to one island in particular - Bainbridge Island - and that perfect night he'd spent with her. In addition to reminding him how much he missed her, such reminiscences tended to have a powerful physiological effect on him. Or, as Argyle so succinctly put it when Jarod confided his predicament in a recent telephone conversation,
"Jay-Man's got his horns up!"
While he remained perplexed by his odd friend's reference to horns, he could not ignore the fact that a certain part of his anatomy was frequently *up* these days. It was affecting his ability to concentrate and that was never a good thing for him or the people around him. Maybe a couple weeks of relaxation with the family would help but he doubted it. Sighing longingly, Jarod leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head, and shut his eyes then allowed his mind to drift back to those hours of pure happiness he'd experienced exactly thirty-three days earlier.
* * * *
He was both delighted and terrified when she agreed to accompany him to the house: delighted because things were progressing as well if not better than he'd hoped, and terrified because he was suddenly faced with the very real prospect of making love to Miss Parker. It wasn't a matter of performance anxiety in the strictest sense; their physical contact thus far had gone extremely well and if chemistry were any indication then everything was likely to be in order. He was more concerned about saying something awkward or silly. When it came to sexual matters she was far more experienced and sophisticated than he, and probably had the same high standards when it came to the art of seduction that she had with regard to everything else.
The short car ride was as silent as the earlier one, only this time Parker was the picture of relaxation and Jarod was the nervous wreck. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she casually placed her hand on his knee and gave it a playful squeeze. Even though she was looking away from him he detected her smirk but did not comment. Her hand stayed right where it was for the remainder of the journey.
He wasn't feeling any more suave when they got to the house but did manage to offer her coffee or a cold drink, both of which she politely declined. Then, for lack of a better idea, he proceeded to show her around the place. Taking her by the hand he led her room to room, conducting a thorough tour that included several closets and the kitchen pantry. Although she was trying very hard, Jarod could tell that Parker was struggling to contain her amusement by the time he'd mustered the courage to lead her up the steps to the loft that comprised the master bedroom. And yet he couldn't seem to stop himself from pointing out each and every salient feature of the spacious, well-appointed room. When he finally got to the most prominent piece of furniture, he gestured toward it and muttered,
"And that's the... well, you know."
Taking a moment to inspect the item in question, she turned to him and observed with complete deadpan,
"Yes, that would indeed appear to be a bed."
Pivoting, she unceremoniously flopped onto her back and kicked off her shoes. Propping herself up on her elbows and issuing one of her *What's it gonna be, Jarod?* looks, Parker asked,
"Anything else you wanna show me, Wonderboy?"
Maybe it was her devilish facial expression. Maybe it was the inviting tone of her voice. Most likely it was a combination of the two but, whatever it was, it provided a welcome boost to his confidence. Leaning forward he placed his hands on either side of her body and, hovering over her, answered huskily,
"Why, yes, Miss Parker, there is."
From then on, events took on a sort of slow motion, dreamlike quality, or at least they did when he looked back on them later. It seemed amazing to him that he could spend years dreaming about, months hoping for, and weeks planning something, and still find himself wholly unprepared for the reality of the experience.
There was the awe he felt when he pulled her sweater over her head to reveal an expanse of delicate, ivory skin so soft to the touch it made him gasp with delight. He had no idea her voice could be as small and tender as it was when she whispered his name and other things for his ears only. In his wildest dreams, he'd never imagined Parker letting him take the lead, allowing Jarod to revel in slowly peeling away every stitch of her clothing and savoring every inch of exposed flesh as though he were a condemned man and she his last meal.
Yet nothing could prepare him for the moment when he entered her body. The sublime pleasure of completing sexual union with a thoroughly amazing and totally gorgeous creature was heightened by the way her eyes - the color of eternity like a cloudless sky - grew unusually large and welcoming and conveyed a simple but powerful message:
*Take me.*
Jarod shuddered as a wave of pure animal lust coursed through him. Parker emitted a small gasp and trembled in response, which prompted him to abandon all rational thought and listen to the commands being issued by his agonizingly aroused body. He began to move, slowly at first but not for long, inside her... inside her... inside her. And for several perfect moments as his eyes remained locked on hers, inside her was the only place that existed.
* * * *
He opened his eyes, glanced down at his lap, and sighed wistfully. With a slight wince and a low groan, he leaned forward in his seat to left click on the touch pad of his laptop, thereby selecting the little blue box with the white lettering that read:
*Book this Trip*
Sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms at his chest, Jarod whispered guiltily,
"Sorry, Dad, but it will just be a couple of days, I promise."
* * * *
Cursing under her breath, Parker moved swiftly about the room putting the finishing touches on her ensemble. Pausing to steal one last look in the mirror she swore aloud when she noticed her bare earlobes. Slapping down her bag and wrap, she hastily dug into her jewelry box in search of the pair of obscenely expensive diamond and platinum earrings Daddy had given her for her thirtieth birthday. She didn't wear them often - they weren't what one would call practical for everyday in her line of work, or any line of work she could think of except maybe upscale prostitution - but dutifully fished them out of her jewelry box every time she accompanied her father to a social function.
While a bit over-the-top for her tastes, they were exquisitely crafted and of the highest quality, and did make a striking statement with basic black. More importantly, wearing them was a painless way to engender a little goodwill between her father and herself and, these days, Parker figured she needed all the goodwill she could muster. Frowning at that thought she fastened the second earring in place then straightened and took another moment to inspect her appearance.
*Daddy's girl?*
Standing tall in one of her favorite little black dresses - strapless with a tight, exquisitely beaded bodice - she *appeared* to be the same old Miss Parker. A third high quality stone suspended from her long, graceful neck by a velvet cord to make a perfect V on her pale skin. Her hair was swept up in a tight French twist. Her makeup was flawless and, because it was the best on the market and applied correctly, would remain that way all evening with minimal touchup.
All of which left her wondering why she'd dreaded this evening from the moment Daddy had asked her to accompany him, so much so that it had kept her up four nights in a row and compelled her on the previous evening to break her cardinal rule against sleeping pills so she wouldn't show up at the affair looking like the living dead. That would definitely *not* engender goodwill. With a shrug she picked up her plainly elegant Stuart Weitzman evening bag and her mother's black silk wrap - one of only a few items that had survived her father's purge of virtually every vestige of his wife's existence shortly after the "the incident in the elevator" (as Parker now referred to the most horrible moment of her childhood since it could not longer be accurately described as the moment of Catherine's death).
Sighing she turned away from the mirror and lumbered, like a condemned woman going to the gallows in stiletto heels, toward the bedroom door. As she moved, Parker pictured herself stepping out onto the terrace at her father's club and the light hitting her at just the right angle to reveal Jarod's fingerprints on her body, illuminated like iridescent paint under a black light, glowing through her dress and the underwear and stockings beneath. This time the prints were neon yellow but other times they were hot pink, lime green, or a combination of colors. The image had flashed before her many times over the last few days, having initially come to her as she stood in her father's office and, perhaps nodding a bit too manically and smiling a tad too broadly, proclaimed,
*"Of course, Daddy, I'd love to."*
The sigh of resignation Parker emitted as she yanked open her bedroom door evolved into a startled gasp as she came face to face with a grinning Jarod. He blinked a few times as he processed her appearance then his face fell.
"What are you doing here? The sun isn't even down yet. Are you nuts?"
"I... I..." He sighed dejectedly and stated, "I take it you're going out."
"Well it wasn't as though I was expecting you."
She noted the absurdity of the words even as she spoke them. It wasn't as though she ever *expected* him. They didn't exactly pencil each other in on their respective calendars.
"Fuck," she muttered, her shoulders slumping as she turned and ambled back into the bedroom.
Following her Jarod offered, "I'm sorry, I probably should have checked to see if you were *available* tonight."
Although he was dying to know, he did not ask where she was going or with whom. Was Herr Langer back in town? His chest tightened; the evening wasn't going at all as he'd planned. In a tone that conveyed his raw need he observed,
"You look positively stunning."
*This is torture,* Parker thought as she took in the pure, unadulterated hunger in his eyes. She noticed for the first time the paper bag in his hand and knew it contained a box of condoms, maybe two... always so thoughtful. She glanced at the open door leading out to the hallway and felt an ache building inside her. She didn't want to go; she wanted to close the door, shed the veneer she had spent the last hour plastering on, fall into his arms, and remain there for the next several hours or, better yet, days. Dropping her arms to her sides in a gesture of regret she attempted to explain,
"I've got to go. Daddy's expecting... and I can't afford to piss him off... I have to keep up..."
"I know," he interjected softly as he nodded ruefully.
"Be here when I get back?" She forced her mouth into a shape that vaguely approximated a smile.
"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."
Parker blinked in surprise but did not become angry or defensive, probably because she understood all too well the disappointment and frustration behind his words. Her lack of defensiveness made Jarod immediately regret those words. He hadn't intended to be harsh but the prospect of having to wait another minute, let alone hours, to be with her was almost too much to bear. Still, it was lousy of him: he knew for a fact that she took no pleasure in the little chores she felt compelled to do for her father, and it wasn't as though she'd gotten all dressed up to appear on the arm of Langer, or any other man who, unlike Jarod, was in a position to enjoy the privilege of being out in public with her.
"I'm sorry, I..."
She cut him off by stepping forward and placing a quick but tender kiss to his lips. Stepping back she commanded softly,
"Be here when I get back."
Jarod narrowed his eyes and shook his head gravely then grabbed Parker around her tiny waist and pulled her into a hot, punishing kiss. She knew he was messing up her makeup but couldn't bring herself to care as she melted into his arms and her hands, still clutching her purse and wrap, fell limply to her sides. A voice in her head chanted, *He's not going to let you go! You HAVE to go!* a few times before he released her lips but retained the tight grip on her body. Pressing his mouth to her ear, he warned in a voice heavy with desire,
"Don't make me wait too long."
Her eyes fluttering shut for an instant, she nodded. He finally released her and she made her way slowly toward the door. Jarod noted the slight wobble in her first few steps and smiled. Parker soon regained her composure though, and was controlled and graceful as ever when she exited the room without looking back.
* * * *
*I swear, his forehead looks like a tarp pulled over a ballfield during a summer downpour.*
Since rendering herself unconscious with alcohol was out of the question, Parker resolved to get through the evening by selecting an object and focusing on it completely. She hoped it would help keep her mind off Jarod and ignore the constant buzzing of her own body. The item she had chosen was the shiny, bald forehead of one Timothy Soderz, a criminally boring millionaire Daddy had left her at the mercy of before bidding adieu to join the other speakers at the head table. She figured if this guy's sweaty noggin couldn't dampen her ardor then nothing could. And so she sat sipping demurely at her wine but not touching a bite of her food and, with a serene smile plastered on her face, pretended to hang on Mr. Soderz's every word while methodically counting the beads of moisture on his forehead.
"Blah... blah... blah... blah... simulations."
That got her attention and Parker actually tuned him in for a moment, leaning slightly forward in her seat to offer a gracious,
"Excuse me?"
"Simulations... they've become a real hobby of mine, an obsession really. With the Internet, it's so easy to get started. I sim with people from all over the country, the world even. I was heavy into the military stuff a while back but right now I'm mostly into economic systems, you know, building and un-building national economies. It's great fun! Do you... have you ever..."
"No," Parker interjected as she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "But I am familiar with the concept."
And despite the fact that he talked at her non-stop through five courses, all she knew of Mr. Soderz when the evening's proceedings commenced bringing a merciful end to all inane conversation, was that the man sweats like Elvis after a long Vegas set and likes to pretend. While appearing to direct her full attention to the dais, Parker began to calculate how to make the earliest possible getaway without drawing her father's disapproval.
At the very least, she would have to stay long enough to hear Daddy's speech. A discreet glance at the program lying open in her lap told her that he was fourth in the line-up; she'd have to endure the remarks of two more speakers so lacking in personal charisma as to make Mr. Soderz seem dynamic by comparison. And the drone currently occupying the podium didn't appear to be going anywhere for a while. Parker was in the midst of asking herself what on earth she'd done to deserve this when the supreme irony of the question hit her causing her lips to curl slightly.
* * * *
Parker pulled into the driveway at such a clip that her tires screeched when she hit the brakes. Drumming her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel while waiting for the garage door to open, she contemplated abandoning the car in the driveway but thought better of it because it was out of character and, therefore, could potentially draw unwanted attention.
She expelled a heavy sigh of relief when the door opened then swiftly pulled into the garage. The door closing behind her at the same languorous pace at which it had opened, she went out of her way to look calm and unhurried as she exited the car and strolled toward the door leading into the house, an act which exhausted her now scant supply of self restraint. She was running on fumes.
The moment she had closed and securely locked the door, Parker spun around fiercely and barked,
"You better be here or I'm going to hunt you down and..."
In an instant his hands were on her, the front of his body pressed firmly to the back of hers, his lips, tongue and teeth working the back of her neck and her bare shoulders. She moaned and dropped her purse, wrap and car keys carelessly to the floor. He growled like a wounded animal as he propelled them into the den and toward the sofa; there was no way in hell they were going to make it to the bedroom.
As they stumbled into the room, Jarod's hands were busy: one searched for and located the hidden catch and zipper on her dress, made quick work of them both, and slipped inside to breach the tight, one-piece bustier she wore beneath; the other disappeared up under the hem to attack from another position. All Parker could do was whimper and reach back to clasp her hands at the back of his neck to hold him to her.
When they reached the sofa, Jarod wrenched Parker's dress down her body with her assisting by shimmying then kicking it aside as though it were a rag and not a $1,200 piece of apparel. Then she spun around and, for the first time since her return, two sets of wild eyes met to exchange a desperate, ravenous look. They both appeared poised to speak but it was beyond them in their current state so they reached for each other instead and kissed, falling to the sofa with a soft thud.
There ensued a frantic attempt to divest each other of their clothing. One of Parker's shoes sailed across the room; Jarod must have shed his earlier. She tore open his shirt sending buttons flying in every direction. He managed to yank down the tight bustier but grunted in frustration as her slim hips provided a barrier to removing it completely. His second attempt, coinciding with her frenzied pawing at his belt buckle and fly, tilted them both off balance but neither realized it until they found themselves on the rug.
Their relative positions now reversed - Jarod on his back and Parker astride him - they giggled into each other's mouths. He again yanked at her bustier but she shook her head and, grinning, reached down to unfasten the hooks at the crotch.
"Ingenious," he crooned.
She nodded as she completed the task of unzipping his fly then reached inside to liberate the part of his anatomy she desperately needed to get her hands on. Then something dawned on her and she frowned.
"Shit," she panted. "We forgot..."
This time he smiled and shook his head, digging into his pocket to produce a foil packet.
"Ingenious," Parker purred as she hastily grabbed and tore open the packet then frantically set to work on the task at hand. Jarod moaned as though he were in agony as she completed it.
Neither demonstrated much in the way of technique, their only concern being to get as close to each other and as quickly as the mechanics of human sexuality would allow. Inherently graceful individuals moved gracelessly together, grunting, gasping, and making all sorts of funny noises uncharacteristic of two people who normally maintained strict self-control. It was rough and awkward and so very, very hot and soon Jarod was begging,
"H... hurry... Ah! PLEASE!"
"Please..." Parker echoed, that one syllable drawn out in a hiss as she shuddered all around him.
His eyes immediately clamped shut and his head jerked back violently to press firmly into the rug as he emitted a long, deep growl of satisfaction. The sound was soon muffled by a mouthful of hair that had shaken free from the confinement of pins and hairspray as she collapsed forward into a heap, her face coming to rest against the side of his, her nose pressing against his jaw.
The panting, sweating, quivering mass of their combined flesh remained still for a moment then, with a grunt of exertion, Parker rolled off Jarod and flopped onto her back beside him. Blowing an errant lock of hair from her eyes, she turned her head to look at him.
"Well, that wasn't pretty," she commented with a smirk.
Casting a wry glance at the obscene tableau they made, he replied, "No, it wasn't. Sure felt good, though."
"Mmmm... " she hummed as she finally succeeded in kicking off her other shoe.
* * * *
Clad only in his boxer shorts, Jarod crouched before the hearth tending the fire he'd just built. When it was burning to his satisfaction he stood, set aside the iron poker, turned to her, and smiled. She looked incredibly sexy in the warm glow of firelight.
When they had succeeded in catching their breath they'd set about making themselves more comfortable, so Parker was now sprawled lazily on the sofa wearing only Jarod's shirt and looking every bit like he had just had his wicked, wicked way with her. Which, of course, he had. Her hair was in complete disarray, her skin had a rosy glow, and her eyes sparkled through half-closed lids. Even though only a few minutes earlier he had seriously questioned his capacity to move a muscle for several hours, the very sight of her made him tingle in all the right places. He would need to have her again... very soon.
Pacing toward the sofa, he remarked, "We should have done this years ago."
"Yeah, right."
"So I guess," he began as he climbed onto the couch, careful to distribute most of his weight on the sofa as he nestled into her body, his head pillowing on her upper abdomen just below her breasts.
"I was the *only* one who was plagued with lustful thoughts way back when," he continued, grinning blissfully as he breathed in her scent.
Stroking his hair, Parker snickered and teased, "A-ha! I always *knew* you wanted me!"
"Not always," he replied with mock self-righteousness. "A lot of the time I really wanted to strangle you and, let's face it, when we were together in those days there were usually guns... "
"A lot of guns, sometimes explosives," she concurred with a nod.
"The typical mortal danger and a whole lot of hostility. But once in a while when I was all alone in the dark late at night, I will admit to having entertained the occasional fantasy... you know, when I'd recall the scent of your rain-soaked skin when we were trapped together in Florida, or I happened to think about the sleepy sound of your voice on the other end of the phone at 3:00 a.m."
"Bastard."
He chuckled then lifted his head to rest his chin on her belly. Gazing up at her, he asked, "How about you? Did you ever...?"
"Actually," she replied with a devilish grin. "Now that you mention it, there was this *one* idea that held a certain appeal."
* * * *
"Hey, Dad."
Sitting up in Parker's bed with the sheet pooled around his waist, Jarod spoke softly into his cell phone, nodded at the response he received, and replied,
"I wanted to be sure you got my email. With the time difference and everyone's busy schedules, I thought it was the best way to leave word... Just finished breakfast? Yeah, it's nearly dinnertime here but I only had breakfast a couple hours ago. No, I haven't been out all day... busy, busy, busy... Yup... uh-huh... right... I should be there late Monday. I've just been..."
He lifted his other wrist - off which Parker's handcuffs dangled - and continued with a smirk, "Temporarily detained."
She chose that moment to appear in the bathroom doorway, again donning the shirt Jarod was beginning to suspect he would never get back, not that it was much use to him with most of the buttons torn off. They exchanged a conspiratorial look then he spoke into the phone,
"Speaking of which, Dad, I have to get going." Winking at Parker, he nodded and explained, "Yeah, something's come up. My love to Em and Jon. Enjoy the rest of your weekend... oh, I will... uh-huh. Bye."
"*Something's* come up, eh?" She drawled as she strolled toward the bed.
"Well," Jarod replied wagging his eyebrows. "*Something* inevitably does when you're around."
# # # #
Tbc... Because, apparently, I can't be stopped.