1

Author's Note: Falling in Stages was the prelude. Now, continuing in the 'there ain't much of a story here, is there?' vein, here's my take on the character's reaction to the affair itself. My guess is there'll be two interim vignettes - this, and another yet to be written. When I'm finished with the interim, I'll have a go at the quietus. Wish me luck. Thanks for the encouragement to continue. I hope this doesn't disappoint. Thanks as always to Diane for reading this through!

Interim - 1

By: Mariel

The storm had raged relentlessly as they made their way to the hotel. Finally reaching the old establishment, they paused for breath on the sidewalk and then walked up worn stone steps to the entrance. Leaving the roar of wind and snow behind them, they entered through huge oaken and brass doors into deafening silence created by thick carpet and richly upholstered furniture. Without pausing to appreciate their newfound refuge, Samantha strode purposefully through the chandelier-lit foyer towards the elevator without a backwards glance. Each step she took announced she knew where she was going and that she was expected. Jack, only steps behind her, did not watch as she continued on ahead of him. Appearing unaware of the woman who had happened to enter the hotel at the same time as he, he stopped at the desk, revealed who he was and accepted a key to his reserved room.

After the expected comments about the weather, his registration was completed and he strode towards the elevator. His face expressionless, he pushed the 'up' button and waited patiently. When the door opened, he walked into the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor.

Samantha was waiting patiently for him when the elevator door opened. Her overnight bag clutched in her right hand, she stepped in beside him and watched as he pressed the button for the fifth floor. They rode the rest of the way up in silence.

- -

The door closed behind them softly. Flicking on the first light switch her fingers found, Samantha slipped off her boots. Her way lit by the light flowing out from the washroom the small switch had belonged to, she walked slowly across the floor. The room's decor was pleasant, its muted, dark colours chosen for their ability to soothe, the furniture solid wood and gleaming with polish. The dark wood cupboard to her left no doubt held the television. To her right was a large queen-sized bed, it's discreetly patterned cover luxuriously thick and inviting. She placed her overnight bag carefully on the end of the bed with trembling hands and wondered what she thought she was doing.

And realised she hadn't thought at all.

The wall facing her was filled with a curtained window. Unbuttoning her coat as she moved, she walked towards it and swished the sheers to one side in order to look out into the storm. This near the window, she could feel the cold from outside seeping through the panes, could hear the dull roar of the wind, and hear snow lash against the glass. Turning her gaze downwards, she saw little except yellow snow-filled halos created by the streetlights below.

Refocussing her eyes, she looked at her reflection in the darkened panes of the window. Her eyes were large, dark pools and stared back at her calmly. She wasn't certain if she looked like a woman about to do what she was about to do, but then, she wasn't certain what someone who was about to do what she was about to do looked like. Hell, she wasn't even sure she knew what she was about to do should be called.

Adultery?

She didn't think so.

It didn't seem the right term somehow. It certainly didn't feel like it. She wasn't here with Mrs. Malone's husband. Being here didn't relate to anything outside of these walls. It didn't involve Jack's wife or Samantha's boyfriend or anyone else but Jack Malone and Samantha Spade. This was something new, something apart from boyfriends and marriage and appointments and crimes and disappearances and all the other daily minutia that cluttered their lives. This belonged to them alone, touched no one else, meant more than she could possibly explain, and was certainly neither dishonest nor meant to harm. This, whatever 'this' might be called, simply was. It existed and it was theirs and they needed it.

Or was it something they deserved?

She paused to consider, then reconsidered. Something they had earned, perhaps, by enduring their loneliness with such unquestioning fortitude.

Refoccusing her eyes again, she turned her attention away from the turmoil outside, away from her reflection, and towards the quiet room mirrored in the glass. In its reflected form, it looked warm and welcoming and held the only person in her world that could make it truly that. She watched as Jack, having removed his own boots, placed his overnight bag on a table provided for holding larger suitcases than either of them carried. Anticipation making her heart thud harder, she saw him remove his coat and toss it onto a chair. As she watched his reflection walk towards her, she inhaled deeply and tried one last time to think without feeling, to look at this from some other point of view...

Not turning to look at him when he came to a stop behind her, she said softly, "I don't know if this is wise..."

She could feel the slight touch of his body against her back, his warm hand on her shoulder. "Probably not," she heard him say in a low voice. She closed her eyes. He was so close she could feel his warm breath against her skin.

He turned her gently to face him. After she slowly opened her dark eyes, he asked, "Does that matter?"

She paused to consider. No. It didn't. Not any more. She gave up trying to think and allowed herself to feel. They were alone. He was within touching distance. She could feel his warmth, look directly into his eyes...

After all these months of falling, she knew without a doubt they were finally ready to land.

He reached out and gently cupped her cheek with his hand. Running his thumb along her cheekbone, he said, "If you think-"

Wanting to cut him off before he could say more, she made a slight movement towards him and tilted her face upward. Touching his lips with hers tentatively, she then stepped back and regarded him with dark eyes. "I don't want to think, Jack..."

She moved to close the curtains, shutting the world outside.

Turning, she rested one hand on his chest and slid the other around to hold the back of his neck. Her mouth met his again and she moaned softly as he gently tasted her lips and then deepened their kiss. Revelling in the sensual feel of his tongue sliding against hers, she leaned against him and wrapped her other arm around his neck. He put his arms around her, and was brought slowly back to reality by the feel of melting snow seeping through his shirt. Her coat was an incumbrance they did not need. Reluctantly letting her go, he helped her remove it, tossing it on top of his own. The moment apart seemed too long, and as soon as the coat landed, he wrapped his arms around her again.

They had all night.

He ran slow kisses along her soft neck and she arched backwards to give him ease of access. Desire making her wanton, she reached to undo the top buttons of her shirt, inviting him to explore more of her, wanting to feel his lips and hands on her breasts, wanting his warm palms to slide along her body as though they had always belonged there. Loving the texture of his hair and the smell of his aftershave, and how he made her feel, she pressed his face against her body, shuddering with need.

Slowly, they moved towards the welcoming bed. She loosened his tie, undid his shirt buttons. After he lifted the tie over his head, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders, her fingers trailing along his skin lovingly, her body aching for him.

She had told him she didn't want to think, and she had, indeed, stopped doing so. Everything became sensation and desire to please and be pleased. No thoughts of ramifications or implications or complications passed through either their minds. This was meant to happen. For some crazy cosmic reason, they were supposed to do this, were supposed to share this, and revel in the sharing.

Lying back onto the bed, she gently pulled him to her, welcoming his weight upon her and the sensations that swept through her as he pressed himself against her.

No words. Soft sighs. Low moans. Unintelligible murmurs. The rest of their clothes disposed of, they carressed each other in the dim light of the one bulb they had turned on upon their arrival - and gave themselves up to the pleasures of making love.

- - -

He awoke first. Lying in dark silence, he allowed himself to become minutely aware of the woman beside him. He could feel her warmth first, then the gentle movement of her breathing. Moving his head slightly, he caught the faint scent of the perfume she always wore. The scent was strongest, he now knew, on the insides of her wrists and on the sides of her neck. Carefully, he turned onto his side and placed an arm over her body. How long had it been since he had slept like this? Naked, beside another naked body. Responding to his palm's insistence, he ran it lightly over her smooth hip and up to her waist, revelling at the sense of familiarity he felt. At peace, he closed his eyes.

It was still dark in the room when he awoke again. Lying quietly, his eyes closed, he gradually became aware of his surroundings. He could no longer hear snow whipping against the windows outside. The storm had passed. Against him, he felt Samantha stir.

"You're awake," her soft voice said.

He opened his eyes. "Yeah."

"What time is it?"

He turned over slightly to look behind him. "Almost 6:00."

She snuggled closer to him, enjoying the warmth of their bodies. "Almost time to get up. I wonder what it's like outside."

"The wind's died down."

"Hopefully the roads have been plowed. They were going by all night long."

He'd heard them too, before drifting off to sleep. Wrapping his arms around her, he murmured, "Last night..."

She moved her head to look up at him and smiled. "Yeah," she said, before quickly snuggling back against him. "And now we've got to get up." He could feel the energy begin to rise in her.

"Do you want to shower first?" she asked.

He smiled and hugged her briefly. Yup. She was ready to start her day. He had wondered what she was like in the morning - languid or energetic, talkative or withdrawn until the first cup of coffee. Perhaps the first morning after wasn't a good time to judge, but he thought he'd like her in the mornings.

"Yeah, that'd be good," he replied. "I usually get in a bit before you do anyway."

When she heard the shower turn on, Samantha got up. Searching for something to throw on before showering herself, she picked up Jack's discarded shirt and put it on. Buttoning it up, she took the time to relish the intimacy of wearing his clothing, then walked over to the small courtesy basket set on the desk and began to prepare a morning pot of coffee.

She was standing in front of the window, nursing a freshly brewed cup of the dark liquid when Jack emerged from the bathroom. She turned and looked at him with an appraising eye. Smiling, she asked, "New office dress code?"

Jack adjusted the towel around his waist more firmly. "Nah, this is just a private showing. I'd catch a chill on a day like this." Looking over at his overnight bag, he told her, "I need my shaving gear."

"Would you like a cup of coffee?"

He nodded. "Let me shave, first." Lifting his overnight bag from the suitcase trestle, he asked, "What's it like out there?"

"Sunny, calm, brilliantly white."

"Good. We've got a lot to do today."

She smiled at his retreating form, happiness making her almost giddy. So this was Jack in the morning.

She liked it.

When he appeared next, he was shaven and neatly attired in a fresh pair of pants and a straight-from-the-laundry shirt.

"There's only whitener," she warned him as he walked towards the coffee pot.

He grimaced at the thought of using the noxious white powder some people thought acceptable as a substitute for coffee cream. Need for his morning dose of caffeine, however, made him continue forward. "I'll take it black." Pouring himself a cup, he came to stand beside her at the window. Looking her up and down, he said, "You look good."

She tilted her head and grinned. "Must be the shirt."

"Must be. It suits you."

"I'll have to wear it again."

He held her gaze. "I'd like that."

The look in his eyes made her shiver. Without thinking, she took his coffee from him and placed both it and her own on the small round table set to one side of the window. She turned to move close to him again. "You'll have to excuse the coffee breath, but-" Sliding her arms around his neck, she placed her lips softly against his.

The feel of her lithe body pressed up against him sent a shock of desire through him. Letting himself dive into their kiss, he slid his hands over her back, relishing the feel of his shirt as it travelled over her body. When their lips finally separated, she looked up at him and smiled again. She was smiling a lot, he thought, then realised that he was probably smiling a lot, too. He brought a hand up to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers. "You're beautiful."

"And in need of a shower," she said breathlessly, deflecting his compliment, but holding it close to her heart all the same.

He gestured towards her cup of coffee. "Let's finish our coffee, then I'll leave."

He'd rather have stayed and repeated the night before.

She nodded. When she moved to sit in the chair in front of her cup, he followed and sat across from her. Reaching across the table for his coffee, he told her, "If I leave in about fifteen minutes, I'll be there before anyone else arrives."

Calculating time and distance, she said, "I'll show up about thirty minutes after you do."

Unspoken was the knowledge that if they said nothing, it was unlikely anyone would know she had been to work the day before. They shared a long, contented and very self-satisfied stare. Certainly, no one would guess where they had been and what they had done after leaving.

It was a precious, glorious secret.

End

Interim 1

By: Mariel