A/N: This chapter drifts into soft R territory. It is transitional, and not critical to the plot, so if you are a PG-13 reader you should feel comfortable skipping it.
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The funeral had been very difficult for Sydney; dealing with the aftermath was almost worse. Lawyers, insurance agents, banks, executors. All clamored for her attention. As her father had promised, his affairs were as organized as could be expected, but she was not yet ready. She pleaded for time, for some space to come to terms with it on her own before she had to deal with the bureaucracy of death. Vaughn's presence was constant during those days, quietly supportive without being overbearing. Only once, when he offered to go through her father's things for her, did she snap at him. He had backed off, hurt. As far as he knew, her father's apartment remained untouched.
**
Once more, Irina was escorted into the rafir's tent. He had relocated several times in the interim; always, Irina noted, outside the orbital reach of spy satellites.
This time, when she entered, she had been startled to see that he was surrounded by three women, scantily clad. Peeling his grapes, no doubt, she seethed. He had turned laughing eyes to her when she entered the tent, and while she had glared back, she acknowledged the joke. Working on his cover. She vowed that she would make him regret it when she got him alone.
When he had eventually asked everyone to leave the tent, Irina noticed that she was receiving surreptitious glances from the women as they exited. She smiled back serenely, and patted the rafir on the thigh, surprising a quiet chuckle from under the headgear.
"What do you think of my harem?" he leered.
She explained her thoughts in no uncertain terms, and took the opportunity to point out that he might become the harem's eunuch if he weren't careful.
"But you could be head wife," he said innocently. "Umph!" Irina decided she had had enough, and pushed him back against the cushions.
"Think you need a harem?" she said dangerously. Her hands moved to his belt and swiftly unfastened it.
Jack's response stuck in his throat as she looked up provocatively, his zipper in her mouth, and slowly and deliberately unzipped his pants. With one motion she slipped down both pants and boxers, then looked up at him again, grinning evilly.
"Oh, no, Irina. Irina, you're not going to-," Jack moaned, watching her with fascination but powerless to stop her as she lightly ran her tongue up the inside of his thigh. He knew what she had in mind. "Irina, I didn't mean it," then groaned as she began. She worked slowly, using her lips, her tongue, her teeth with precision, teasing him to the edge but not over. Leaving him hovering on the brink. Each time he was close, she would minutely change her position, and ease him back. Jack lay on his back, scarcely able to breathe, blood roaring in his ears. He was too old for this. The last time she had done this to him was 25 years ago, on a bet. He had lost.
"Please...Irina...," he gasped, begging for release. She pulled back for a moment, studying him. "Was there anything you wanted to say? About the harem?"
"No! Yes! I don't need a harem!" he panted, desperately hoping that that was the right answer.
"Good," she smiled. "Now that we've got that settled..." She bent over him and rapidly brought him to climax. She grinned as he shouted. She hoped those tarts heard him.
***********************************************************
The funeral had been very difficult for Sydney; dealing with the aftermath was almost worse. Lawyers, insurance agents, banks, executors. All clamored for her attention. As her father had promised, his affairs were as organized as could be expected, but she was not yet ready. She pleaded for time, for some space to come to terms with it on her own before she had to deal with the bureaucracy of death. Vaughn's presence was constant during those days, quietly supportive without being overbearing. Only once, when he offered to go through her father's things for her, did she snap at him. He had backed off, hurt. As far as he knew, her father's apartment remained untouched.
**
Once more, Irina was escorted into the rafir's tent. He had relocated several times in the interim; always, Irina noted, outside the orbital reach of spy satellites.
This time, when she entered, she had been startled to see that he was surrounded by three women, scantily clad. Peeling his grapes, no doubt, she seethed. He had turned laughing eyes to her when she entered the tent, and while she had glared back, she acknowledged the joke. Working on his cover. She vowed that she would make him regret it when she got him alone.
When he had eventually asked everyone to leave the tent, Irina noticed that she was receiving surreptitious glances from the women as they exited. She smiled back serenely, and patted the rafir on the thigh, surprising a quiet chuckle from under the headgear.
"What do you think of my harem?" he leered.
She explained her thoughts in no uncertain terms, and took the opportunity to point out that he might become the harem's eunuch if he weren't careful.
"But you could be head wife," he said innocently. "Umph!" Irina decided she had had enough, and pushed him back against the cushions.
"Think you need a harem?" she said dangerously. Her hands moved to his belt and swiftly unfastened it.
Jack's response stuck in his throat as she looked up provocatively, his zipper in her mouth, and slowly and deliberately unzipped his pants. With one motion she slipped down both pants and boxers, then looked up at him again, grinning evilly.
"Oh, no, Irina. Irina, you're not going to-," Jack moaned, watching her with fascination but powerless to stop her as she lightly ran her tongue up the inside of his thigh. He knew what she had in mind. "Irina, I didn't mean it," then groaned as she began. She worked slowly, using her lips, her tongue, her teeth with precision, teasing him to the edge but not over. Leaving him hovering on the brink. Each time he was close, she would minutely change her position, and ease him back. Jack lay on his back, scarcely able to breathe, blood roaring in his ears. He was too old for this. The last time she had done this to him was 25 years ago, on a bet. He had lost.
"Please...Irina...," he gasped, begging for release. She pulled back for a moment, studying him. "Was there anything you wanted to say? About the harem?"
"No! Yes! I don't need a harem!" he panted, desperately hoping that that was the right answer.
"Good," she smiled. "Now that we've got that settled..." She bent over him and rapidly brought him to climax. She grinned as he shouted. She hoped those tarts heard him.
