Rosalind
This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole
ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a
court of law.
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?
"So, how did you become a child psyche analyst?" John asked, putting his slice of pizza down. Grey's had been too far, apparently.
"Mmm" Grace swiped at some sauce that was dripping down her chin and chomped on her lastest bite of the sixth piece of pizza she'd drawn from the box. She had insisted John get a large, even though it was just for the two of them, and he now knew why. She kept eating, and eating, and eating! John thought it was funny.
"Well, when I was in high school I babysat a lot, and I took a lot of psychology classes. My high school had this deal with a college that was close by, you know so some high school students could take college classes. Anyway, it just sort of happened" More pizza. John had had four himself, and was just about stuffed. He put his elbows on the table to study her face a little more while she spoke. She had a little dimple in her right cheek, right next to her lips. The frekles spatter across her nose high lighted the streaks of gold in her eyes, and the orange/red of her hair accentuated the green. He thought he could probably watch her eat for days.
"Actually, it was my brother who got me the job. He's a social worker, and the man who owned the practice I'm with, Scott Connely, was looking for someone new. He asked my brother if he knew anyone good and Andrew goes 'As it happens, I just may'. I had just graduated college and Scott was a little wary but he took me, I've always thought just as kind of a favor to my brother, but I suppose he turned out to fairly happy with me cause he never did fire me" She smiled up at him and shrugged.
"He died last year and left me half the practice" she admitted, taking a last bite of her pizza.
"Wow" John replied, "You must be good"
"Oh, I suppose. It was either be a psychologist like Deanna Troi from Star Trek, or write for Star Trek" she laughed.
"Are you a Trekkie?" John teased, wondering why people thought Trekkie's were so weird. So what if they were adults that dressed up and went to conventions with a bunch of other adults all dressed up as characters from a TV show? Okay, so that was weird.
"No!" Grace denied, "I just have a thing for sci-fi. And I love to write. Look, I was fourteen when I came up with the idea, all right?" John did some quick math. He had been too polite to ask how old she was, but he had wondered. He knew she had to be younger than he was, at least by five years. But his figures led to another conclusion, one he didn't think he liked.
"Fourteen?" He repeated. When had that Star Trek show been on? Early ninties. At least a good ten years ago. Fourteen and ten was......
"How old are you?" he tried to sound like he was just suddenly asking out of the blue.
"Twenty four" she answered, sipping from her soda. Twenty four? Twenty four! Lord, he was a good ten years older than her!
"Uh-oh" she said, " I know that look"
"What look?"
"The 'she's just a kid!' look" Grace explained, "I may only be twenty four, but that's just my age, it's not how old I am" John had to stop and think about what she'd just said. Then he laughed.
"That actually made sense!" They both laughed. John shook himself. Maybe it didn't matter how much older than her he was. She was a nice woman. No, make that a great woman! So she was ten years younger than him, big deal. He'd always kind of liked younger women anyway. And she certainly wasn't childish. She was an adult, and that was all that mattered.
"Of course it made sense" Grace said indignantly, though she was just playing around, "I said it didn't I?" John laughed. She had a great sense of humor. Another something different about her than most of the other women he'd dated. Why did he keep comparing her to other women he'd seen? He supposed it was just because she was so.well, different. New, fresh, and yes darn it, exciting.
"Would you like a refill?" a waiter who had suddenly appeared from nowhere next to the table asked. John went to say yes and caught sight of the man's watch.
"Ah, geeze!" he exclaimed, "It's almost midnight! I have to go get Ros" She'd probably be all upset too. Darn it, why hadn't he been paying attention to the clock? Oh, that's right. The reason was sitting across the table. It was green and red and honey speckled ivory. And it's name was Grace O'Malley.
"For heaven's sake!" she added, pulling her light sweater on as she got up, "The poor thing will probably be all upset! Look, you go on, I'll get a cab" She insisted when they got outside.
"Oh, no, I'll take you home first" John objected quickly. Just a few more minutes with her would be worth the pout he'd probably get from Ros, and maybe more in the morning.
"Are you sure?" Grace asked, tilting her head a bit.
"Yeah, she's probably asleep anyway" John assured her as he opened the door and she took a seat. The ride home was quiet, his thoughts mostly focused on Rosalind and what was going to transpire when he got to Andy and Connie's place. Hopefully she'd been asleep for hours and wouldn't realize how late it was and how long he'd been gone. And hopefully her babysitters wouldn't be so mad at him for being so late they would never watch her again!
He forgot all about that in the elevator up to Grace's apartment though. In the small in closed space, her scent filled the air and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms, crush her against his chest and kiss her savagely. He was lucky when the elevator finally stopped and the doors opened, her door to salvation just s few feet away. He walked her to it and watched as she pushed the key into the lock and turned it. She opened the door and then turned around.
"Sorry I kept you out so long" she apologized, but not really convincingly, "If Ros gives you a hard time just tell her it's my fault. But" she looked down then up again, "I had a really nice time, John. Better than I've had in....a long time" He wondered what the comment might mean, but he couldn't think about it now.
"Yeah, me too" he replied, and meant it. This time it was she to stand on her toes and push their lips together. He kissed her back, and suddenly it wasn't the good night kiss it had started out as. One of her lovely arms was around his neck and the other was pressed between their bodies, her fingers splayed across his chest. One of his arms was holding her around her back, the other ran the tips of his fingers through the roots of her hair just above her ear. He paid attention to her responses, making sure she wasn't pulling away or slacking, but she was pressing just as hard as he was. He could feel her chest heaving up and down as she had to keep pushing herself back up on her toes to reach him so he bent himself down a little more for her comfort. As the kiss naturally drew to an end, John's head was reeling. Her kiss was intoxicating. He felt dizzy, but that might've been from the lack of oxygen.
"Night" she whispered, her mouth still only millimeters from his so he could feel the breaths she was pulling in and blowing out. He had to force himself to let her go.
"Night" he finally managed to get out just as she closed the door. He turned back to the elevator and rolled his eyes at himself. What had he gotten himself into?
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?
"So, how did you become a child psyche analyst?" John asked, putting his slice of pizza down. Grey's had been too far, apparently.
"Mmm" Grace swiped at some sauce that was dripping down her chin and chomped on her lastest bite of the sixth piece of pizza she'd drawn from the box. She had insisted John get a large, even though it was just for the two of them, and he now knew why. She kept eating, and eating, and eating! John thought it was funny.
"Well, when I was in high school I babysat a lot, and I took a lot of psychology classes. My high school had this deal with a college that was close by, you know so some high school students could take college classes. Anyway, it just sort of happened" More pizza. John had had four himself, and was just about stuffed. He put his elbows on the table to study her face a little more while she spoke. She had a little dimple in her right cheek, right next to her lips. The frekles spatter across her nose high lighted the streaks of gold in her eyes, and the orange/red of her hair accentuated the green. He thought he could probably watch her eat for days.
"Actually, it was my brother who got me the job. He's a social worker, and the man who owned the practice I'm with, Scott Connely, was looking for someone new. He asked my brother if he knew anyone good and Andrew goes 'As it happens, I just may'. I had just graduated college and Scott was a little wary but he took me, I've always thought just as kind of a favor to my brother, but I suppose he turned out to fairly happy with me cause he never did fire me" She smiled up at him and shrugged.
"He died last year and left me half the practice" she admitted, taking a last bite of her pizza.
"Wow" John replied, "You must be good"
"Oh, I suppose. It was either be a psychologist like Deanna Troi from Star Trek, or write for Star Trek" she laughed.
"Are you a Trekkie?" John teased, wondering why people thought Trekkie's were so weird. So what if they were adults that dressed up and went to conventions with a bunch of other adults all dressed up as characters from a TV show? Okay, so that was weird.
"No!" Grace denied, "I just have a thing for sci-fi. And I love to write. Look, I was fourteen when I came up with the idea, all right?" John did some quick math. He had been too polite to ask how old she was, but he had wondered. He knew she had to be younger than he was, at least by five years. But his figures led to another conclusion, one he didn't think he liked.
"Fourteen?" He repeated. When had that Star Trek show been on? Early ninties. At least a good ten years ago. Fourteen and ten was......
"How old are you?" he tried to sound like he was just suddenly asking out of the blue.
"Twenty four" she answered, sipping from her soda. Twenty four? Twenty four! Lord, he was a good ten years older than her!
"Uh-oh" she said, " I know that look"
"What look?"
"The 'she's just a kid!' look" Grace explained, "I may only be twenty four, but that's just my age, it's not how old I am" John had to stop and think about what she'd just said. Then he laughed.
"That actually made sense!" They both laughed. John shook himself. Maybe it didn't matter how much older than her he was. She was a nice woman. No, make that a great woman! So she was ten years younger than him, big deal. He'd always kind of liked younger women anyway. And she certainly wasn't childish. She was an adult, and that was all that mattered.
"Of course it made sense" Grace said indignantly, though she was just playing around, "I said it didn't I?" John laughed. She had a great sense of humor. Another something different about her than most of the other women he'd dated. Why did he keep comparing her to other women he'd seen? He supposed it was just because she was so.well, different. New, fresh, and yes darn it, exciting.
"Would you like a refill?" a waiter who had suddenly appeared from nowhere next to the table asked. John went to say yes and caught sight of the man's watch.
"Ah, geeze!" he exclaimed, "It's almost midnight! I have to go get Ros" She'd probably be all upset too. Darn it, why hadn't he been paying attention to the clock? Oh, that's right. The reason was sitting across the table. It was green and red and honey speckled ivory. And it's name was Grace O'Malley.
"For heaven's sake!" she added, pulling her light sweater on as she got up, "The poor thing will probably be all upset! Look, you go on, I'll get a cab" She insisted when they got outside.
"Oh, no, I'll take you home first" John objected quickly. Just a few more minutes with her would be worth the pout he'd probably get from Ros, and maybe more in the morning.
"Are you sure?" Grace asked, tilting her head a bit.
"Yeah, she's probably asleep anyway" John assured her as he opened the door and she took a seat. The ride home was quiet, his thoughts mostly focused on Rosalind and what was going to transpire when he got to Andy and Connie's place. Hopefully she'd been asleep for hours and wouldn't realize how late it was and how long he'd been gone. And hopefully her babysitters wouldn't be so mad at him for being so late they would never watch her again!
He forgot all about that in the elevator up to Grace's apartment though. In the small in closed space, her scent filled the air and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms, crush her against his chest and kiss her savagely. He was lucky when the elevator finally stopped and the doors opened, her door to salvation just s few feet away. He walked her to it and watched as she pushed the key into the lock and turned it. She opened the door and then turned around.
"Sorry I kept you out so long" she apologized, but not really convincingly, "If Ros gives you a hard time just tell her it's my fault. But" she looked down then up again, "I had a really nice time, John. Better than I've had in....a long time" He wondered what the comment might mean, but he couldn't think about it now.
"Yeah, me too" he replied, and meant it. This time it was she to stand on her toes and push their lips together. He kissed her back, and suddenly it wasn't the good night kiss it had started out as. One of her lovely arms was around his neck and the other was pressed between their bodies, her fingers splayed across his chest. One of his arms was holding her around her back, the other ran the tips of his fingers through the roots of her hair just above her ear. He paid attention to her responses, making sure she wasn't pulling away or slacking, but she was pressing just as hard as he was. He could feel her chest heaving up and down as she had to keep pushing herself back up on her toes to reach him so he bent himself down a little more for her comfort. As the kiss naturally drew to an end, John's head was reeling. Her kiss was intoxicating. He felt dizzy, but that might've been from the lack of oxygen.
"Night" she whispered, her mouth still only millimeters from his so he could feel the breaths she was pulling in and blowing out. He had to force himself to let her go.
"Night" he finally managed to get out just as she closed the door. He turned back to the elevator and rolled his eyes at himself. What had he gotten himself into?