Disclaimer: All characters unfortunately belong to the BBC.
A Gambling Man's Guilt
Connie Beauchamp, consultant cardiothorasic surgeon, and Medical Director of Holby City hospital, thought that careerwise, she had it made. She was doing the job she loved, she had a registrar who was shaping up to being a very successful surgeon, and who was fun to play with when the fancy took her, and finally, perhaps the one irritant she'd had on arriving at Holby, was gone. Professor Zubin Kahn, the one man she hadn't been able to subdue with her sexual advances or suggestive innuendoes, had left to take a job in Paris. Connie knew that she would miss sniping with him, but she supposed that things would be a lot quieter for her now he'd gone. As she sat at the computer in her office, she could hear various intermittent sounds from the ward, all the familiar noises of a job she'd been doing for over twenty years. Stretching to ease a crick in her neck, the result of sitting at the computer for the last couple of hours, she yawned. All she really wanted to do on a freezing cold night like this, was to go home, pour herself a large glass of wine, and curl up in front of the TV. But her contemplation of the evening ahead was short lived.
When the phone rang, she had half a mind to ignore it, but picking it up, she said, "Connie Beauchamp," In her usual cultured tones. "Connie, it's Zubin." This made her sit up with a smile. "Professor Kahn," She drawled. "This is a nice surprise. I thought you were in Paris." "I am. Connie, I need you to do something for me." "It's a bit late for last minute favours, Professor Kahn. However, if you make it worth my while, I'll see what I can do." "I haven't got time for this, Connie," Zubin said, and she could hear the distinct edge of worry in his tone. "Have you seen Ric today?" "Yes, I saw him in theatre, earlier this afternoon. Why?" "Did he seem like his usual self?" "He seemed quieter than normal, but I assumed he was just tired, as the rest of us are." "How much do you know about his gambling habit?" Zubin asked carefully. "Enough, heard mostly via the grapevine. Why?" "When he was over here, he started gambling again. Connie, I'm not there to pick up the pieces this time." "Why are you talking to me and not Jess?" "Because Ric doesn't want her to know he's been gambling again, and because she isn't there either." "Is Jess with you?" Connie asked knowingly. "I don't think that's relevant," Zubin replied defensively. "God, you really like to play with fire, don't you," Connie said in amazement. "Connie," Zubin insisted. "I'm asking you to do this, because I think he might listen to you, and because I can't pull him out of it myself." "Okay, calm down," Connie said soothingly, seeing in an instant just how much friendship clearly meant to her once arch enemy. "Where does he usually hide?" "On the roof," Zubin said quietly, the three little words holding far too much significance for Connie's liking. "Oh, marvellous," She said in disgust. "Trust Ric to pick somewhere like that. Give me the number of where you're staying." When he had done, Zubin said, "Thank you, for doing this." "Save it," She said curtly. "I haven't succeeded yet. But don't worry, I'll find him."
Putting the phone down, she picked up her pager and walked out of the office. "Connie," Will called as she walked down the corridor towards the lift. "Not now, Will," She replied, in no mood for him. Leaving him in mid flow, she decided to take the stairs instead. Running lightly up to the eighth floor, she was grateful of how fit she was. When she emerged onto the roof, she immediately put one hand to her skirt, trying to hold it in place. The furiously blowing wind wasn't going to do anything for her self-respect if she didn't. When she saw him, she breathed a sigh of relief, she'd found him, exactly where Zubin had said he would be. Ric heard her heels as she walked over to him, her precise, authoritative walk instantly recognisable. But he didn't turn to face her, not wanting any company. He couldn't believe he'd gambled again, put both his and Donna's money on the casino table, not really giving a damn if he won or lost. He'd been doing so well, no gambling for ten months, and then he'd blown it. Why could he never do anything right? Why did he always have to screw up? He listened as she approached him, wondering just what she was doing up here. If there was one person he didn't want to witness his despair, it was her. "I thought I might find you here," She said, standing next to him where he was leaning against the wall. "Why?" He couldn't think of anything else to say to her. "Because a little bird told me that this was your favourite hiding place. Do you come here for a reason, or is it just the arctic conditions and height from the ground you like so much." There was something in her voice, a seriousness under her flippancy that told him she knew exactly why he'd come here. "Why are you here, Connie?" He asked, wanting to cut to the chase. "Because if you needed me in theatre, you would have paged me." "I wanted to make sure you were all right. That's not a crime, is it?" "Was my technique in theatre below par?" "Of course not, but neither did you appear to be your usual cheery self." Ric remained quiet. What could he possibly say to this? He hadn't been his usual self since he'd returned from Paris, he knew that. But why did Connie have to pick up on it. "I saw someone jump off here once," He told her, not quite knowing why he'd brought this up. "It was Tom Campbell-Gore's first day here, and that's how he lost his first patient." "And have you ever thought of doing that?" She asked quietly, not wanting to frighten him off, but knowing that the subject had to be raised at some point. Ric laughed mirthlessly. "It would solve a lot of problems if I did," He said bitterly. "For you maybe, but not for your children, and not for the people who care about you." "And is that your extremely transparent attempt to talk me down?" He asked carefully. "Does it need to be?" She asked. Ric thought about this for a moment. He didn't think he felt quite that bad, but he couldn't be sure he wouldn't. "Your silence has given me my answer," She said eventually, knowing exactly what she had to do. Putting out a hand, she took one of his, briefly chafing it between her own. "Come on," She said. "You are coming home with me, you are going to get a good meal inside you, and then you are going to talk to me." "You don't have to do this, Connie," He said, feeling more feeble and pathetic than he had done in a long time. "Yes, I do," She said firmly, walking away and tugging his hand until he followed her. "Because I am not letting you stay up here to freeze yourself to death, or anything else for that matter. Is that clear?" Knowing he couldn't argue with her, he followed her back inside and down the stairs.
When they reached the fifth floor, and the nurses station between Keller and Darwin, Connie said to Ric, "I'll be back in a minute. Don't you dare move." Quickly walking to her office, Connie picked up her jacket and her handbag, locking the door on her way out. "You going somewhere, Connie?" Will called from down the corridor. "Yes," She said curtly. "If you need a consultant, call either Mr. Roderick or Mr. Fariday." "You aren't serious?" Will said, following her towards the nurses station. "Mr. Curtis," Connie said, turning furiously round to face him. "You heard, I will not be available for the rest of the day. You are always begging to be allowed to demonstrate your skills and initiative. So, now's your chance." Stopping briefly at the nurses station, she said, "Chrissie, please can you arrange cover for Mr. Griffin and myself." "Oh, you two off somewhere nice?" Asked Tricia. "Wouldn't you like to know," Connie replied, not willing to say a word about where they were going. Beckoning to Ric to follow her, she walked towards the lift.
When they reached the carpark, Connie led him over to her silver grey jaguar, activating the central locking as she approached. When they were sitting in the car, with the heater on and Connie revving the engine, Ric asked, "Where are we going?" "First, we are going to wherever your flat is, so that you can get yourself an overnight bag. Then, I am taking you home with me." "Connie," He tried to protest. "Don't argue," She replied, pulling out of the carpark into the stream of traffic. Seeing that further resistance was futile, Ric just sat back, and gave her directions to his flat. When Connie drew up outside, she said, "Right, you've got five minutes. Any longer, and I'll be checking up on you." "I don't know if this is such a good idea," He said carefully. "Well, on this occasion, I know best." "Connie, why are you doing this?" "I'm worried about you," She said simply. "So go on, and I'll wait here." He wasn't used to hearing anything resembling gentleness in her tone, but he knew he was hearing it now. Taking her at her word, he was back in the car, with an overnight bag within five minutes. They remained in silence as she drove the rest of the way to her house, but as she drew to a stop in the driveway, he remembered something. "What about Mr. Beauchamp?" Connie smiled. "Mr. Beauchamp is in New York this week, so you've got nothing to worry about."
Ric realised just how low he must be, when he barely took any notice of the opulence of her house. It was enormous, carpeted and decorated in rich, warm colours, and furnished in heavy oak furniture. He followed her into a lounge that was surely bigger than the Darwin operating theatre. After switching on a gas fire with imitation logs, she gestured him to an armchair on one side of it. "Would you like some coffee?" Saying that he would, he sank into the depths of the armchair, some of the chill beginning to leave his bones. As he listened to her moving about in the kitchen, he began to look at his surroundings. Whatever Mr. Beauchamp did, he must have money. Though, he thought miserably, if he hadn't put all his salary and more on the roulette wheel, then he could have been living in something on the way to looking like this. But he'd lost it all, every god damn penny of it. Returning from the kitchen and placing two steaming mugs on the coffee table, Connie walked to a drinks cabinet, and retrieved a bottle of whisky. He watched as she poured a healthy dose into both mugs. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" He asked, his lips slightly turning upwards at the corners. "No, but you were up on that roof far longer than I was, and I'm still cold." Walking to the sideboard, she astonished Ric by retrieving a lighter and a packet of cigarettes. "That's not a habit I would expect to see in a heart surgeon," Ric commented, as she sat down in the chair on the other side of the fireplace. "Oh, and I thought that the reason we are here, is because of an addiction." "Who've you been talking to?" Ric asked, with a sinking feeling of dread. "Your extremely good friend, Professor Kahn. He phoned me today, because he is very concerned about you, and when he told me why, I was very concerned about you too." As Connie lit herself a cigarette, Ric took an experimental sip of his coffee. "Zubin shouldn't have phoned you," He said, thinking that if there was one thing this woman really could do, it was make very good Irish coffees. "Oh, and what else was he supposed to do?" Connie demanded. "He's on the other side of the English Channel, and he didn't trust you to be left to your own devices. So, start talking to me, Ric, and tell me why you came off the wagon." He watched her as she took a long drag of the cigarette, thinking that, bad habit as it might be, it did suit her. "I'm not sure that I even know why I did it." "Okay, so tell me about the last time you did." Ric recoiled as if she'd slapped him, the thought of telling her about what he'd done last New Year's eve unthinkable. "Diane gave me her credit card, to buy some champagne for the staff on Keller and Darwin, last New Year's eve. So, the first thing I did with it, was use it to gamble in an online casino. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just couldn't help it. As soon as I'd done it I regretted it. The last thing I'd ever want to do is to hurt Diane, and that's exactly what I did." "What feeling do you get when you do gamble?" "A buzz, a high, like it's the best thing I'll ever do." "So, you gamble in place of a really good orgasm." "Perhaps, though I've never thought about it like that. But I suppose I gamble far less, if at all, when I'm happy." Connie leaned over to flick her cigarette in the ashtray. "Well, that's obvious. I only light up when I've had a particularly difficult day, or when Mr. Curtis has been especially infuriating. Just as I can often go as long as a fortnight without having a cigarette, you have gone ten months without gambling. That's really quite impressive, you know. Just because you've come off the wagon once in all that time, doesn't mean you'll automatically go back to the way you were before. It's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of." Ric stared at her in astounded disgust. "How can you sit there and say that?" He demanded. "All I have ever done throughout my entire life, is let people down. Jess, Leo, Zubin, Diane, not to mention my four wives, my almost fifth, my seven other children, and virtually any other person I've come into contact with over the years." "How have you let Diane down?" Connie asked, going straight to what she perceived as the root of the matter. "I don't want to talk about Diane," Ric said quickly, his feelings on Diane's relationship with Owen still far too raw for public consumption. "Why?" She asked, determined to get it out of him. "My relationship with Diane Lloyd is not up for discussion," He insisted. "Ah, so you have had one, then," She pursued, receiving a glare of monumental proportions because she'd hit the nail on the head. Connie smiled. The fact that he was getting angry with her was all to the good. Anger meant that he was beginning to open up to her, and it was a far healthier emotion than simple despair. "I dated her when she was at med school," He said quietly. "And I've probably never quite got over it." "And it hasn't helped, that she's so blatantly flaunting her relationship with Mr. Davis, has it." "Can we get off the subject of Diane, please?" Seeing just how uncomfortable he felt, she relented. "Okay, tell me about the almost fifth wife, just to satisfy my curiosity." "Samantha Kennedy, she was an SHO on Darwin. Quite why I thought I wanted to marry her is anyone's guess. It sounds terrible, but I think I was bored." Connie laughed. "Only you would get married just for something to do," She said, stubbing the end of her cigarette out in the ashtray. "The day before we were due to get married, she gave me a cheque for twenty grand, to try and put a hole in my debts, and I put the entire thing on the roulette wheel." Connie's eyebrows soared. "My god," She said in awe. "You do like to live dangerously, don't you. Was that why you didn't get married?" "Not really, and she left Holby soon after, because Anton Meyer kicked her off his team." "Now, there's an act I wouldn't mind living up to," Connie said contemplatively. "You'd never get round him the way you do with the likes of Mubbs Hussein," He said, now feeling that it was high time she felt a little uncomfortable. But she infuriated him even more by breaking into a smile. "Is that supposed to embarrass me?" She asked with a laugh. "No, it was just an observation." "What makes you assume that you've let everyone down?" She asked, abruptly dropping him back into the icy water of confronting himself. "I'd have thought that was obvious," He said bitterly. "I've been a terrible father, a pretty useless husband and an amazingly lousy friend." "Jess doesn't think you're a terrible father." "Well, she certainly did the night she raided my wallet and cut up my credit cards. I think that's what I despise the most, the way I've never been anything like the father both Leo and Jess needed me to be." Hearing the break in his voice, she watched as he raised a hand to hover in front of his eyes. "You wouldn't be the first, not to live up to that expectation," Connie said quietly, not wanting to reveal her own first hand knowledge of this particular failure. "Two things, Connie," He said, sounding angry to cover up his emotions. "First, you don't know what it's like to fail at being a parent, and second, nothing you might say can possibly excuse the fact that whenever my children, or anyone else for that matter has needed me, I've never once done the right thing." She could hear the desperation in his voice, the strength of his need to maintain his dignity and equilibrium. But she knew it couldn't last. Ric was too depressed and too exhausted to keep it together much longer. All he needed was the encouragement to let go. Getting up from her chair, she moved to perch on the arm of his. When she gently drew his hand down from where it had been covering his eyes, she could see the tears shining in their depths, Ric putting up an incredible fight to prevent them from falling. He flinched as she put her arms round him, not wanting her to see him like this. "I do know what it's like to fail as a parent. Don't ask me to tell you how, I just do." "I bet you've never spent what was supposed to be the maintenance cheque, at the casino or on a horse," Ric said, his cheek against the softness of her breast, the reassuring thud of her heart in his ear. "There are worse things, believe me," She said, gently running her fingers through his hair. "I don't think I've ever felt quite as pathetic as I do now," He said, thinking that he'd never again be able to look her in the face after this. "I have extremely bad days too, you know," She said, softly rubbing his shoulder. "Besides, crying is medically proven to be good for you."
"I'm sorry," He said, finally detaching himself from her and digging a handkerchief out of his pocket. "It's all right," She said, gently touching his cheek. Then, getting up from the arm of the chair, she asked, "Are you hungry?" "I've barely slept or eaten since I got back from Paris, so yes." "Oh, Ric, that was two days ago," She lightly scolded. He stood in the kitchen doorway, and watched as she dug some home made casserole out of the freezer, and put on some rice to boil. As the aroma of herbs and vegetables began to fill the kitchen, Ric realised just how hungry he was. "I can see you salivating from here," She said with a wink. "It's a very long time since anyone's cooked dinner for me," He replied, still getting a distinct air of no other presence in this house, and thinking that it might be time to satisfy his own curiosity. "What's the story with Mr. Beauchamp?" He asked, when they were sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table, and Connie was pouring two glasses of red wine. "I was wondering when you'd ask," she said, putting the glass down in front of his plate. "His name's Michael." "So why the extraordinary lack of evidence of anyone but you in this house?" "You're not the first to say that," She said, taking a grateful swig of the wine. "But that would be, because Michael lives in the other half of this house. We might be husband and wife in name, but that's all." Ric watched her, trying to work out this little quandary. "He's gay," Connie clarified. "I met him when I was struggling to finance my way through medical school. I needed his money, and he needed the respectability of a wife, something that was demanded of his profession in those days. It's that simple." "Have you never wanted to break the arrangement?" "Good God, no," Connie said with a smile. "It means that I get the excitement and pleasure of an affair, without the headache of constant maintenance." Ric laughed. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it." "And we're not supposed to be talking about me," Connie said seriously. Ric just waited, knowing that his slight reprieve had come to an end. "What made you put Dr. Kennedy's twenty grand on a roulette wheel?" Putting down his fork, Ric took a swig of wine to allow him some time to think. "I don't know," He said eventually, not seeing what was right in front of his nose. "Okay, so what, if anything, happened around that time that changed things?" "Diane came to Holby and started working for me," He answered straight away. "When?" "The day before I was due to get married." "There you are then," Connie said succinctly. "Diane came back into your life again, and I suspect you realised that it was her you ought to be marrying, not some overgrown SHO with more money than staying power. So, what about last New Year's eve?" "Now, that really is verging into unwelcome territory." "Why?" Connie was really intrigued now. "How much have you heard about Kelly York?" He asked carefully. "Wasn't she Holby's resident serial killer?" "Yes. I almost slept with her." "Ouch," Connie said with feeling. "And I'll assume you've never really talked about that." "Well, it's not the kind of thing you want to admit to, is it, and talking about how I feel, isn't something I do." "Yes, I can see that," She said dryly. "But maybe it's about time you did," She added more gently. "Ric, I don't know how bad you felt today, and I don't really know how you feel now, but I have a good idea." "I wouldn't really have jumped, you know," He said, laying a hand over one of hers, both of them having abandoned their food once the conversation had returned to its former, darker path. "I'd rather be a lot more certain of that than I am," She said quietly, turning her hand over so that she was holding his. "When I asked Zubin where you usually hid, and he told me, it frightened the bloody life out of me. You've got no idea how relieved I was to see you were still there." Not knowing what to say, Ric simply watched her as she began putting everything in the dishwasher. As she moved to the side of his chair to take his plate, he put an arm around her waist. "Thank you," He said, "For pulling me out. God knows where I'd be now if you hadn't." "Well, next time you feel like hiding on the roof, or anywhere else, just try talking to me instead. I could do without any more frights like that." Feeling incredibly touched at her clearly understated sentiment, he gently pulled her down towards him. When their lips met, softly and lingeringly, it felt to both of them as if they were coming home. Neither of them had forgotten that occasion at the end of Connie's first day, it having made a deep and lasting impression on both of them, though neither would have wanted to admit it. "Go on," She said, eventually detaching herself from him. "Go and sit down." Taking his glass of wine, he obeyed her instruction, and went into the lounge. As he sank into the comfortable armchair, he could hear the November wind in the chimney, and the rain pounding against the window. Taking a sip of the wine and putting the glass down on the coffee table, he leaned his head back, and instantly closed his eyes.
When Connie went into the lounge, she smiled when she saw that he'd fallen asleep. It was after nine thirty, and he probably hadn't slept since he'd been gambling in Paris. Walking over to him, she gently touched his face. "Ric," She said quietly, not wanting to shock him. When he opened his eyes and briefly stared at her, for a second wondering where he was, she said, "You look exhausted." "Mmm," He yawned. "You could say that." "So go to bed," She said with a fond smile. "Do you mind?" "No, of course not. I've got a phone call to make, but I won't be long." "Not an international one by any chance?" He asked with a rye smile. "Well now, that's for me to know, isn't it." As he followed her upstairs, and into the sexiest, most expensive bedroom he thought he'd ever seen, he wondered just what she would say to Zubin.
When she'd left him to it, Connie went back downstairs, settled herself in her armchair with her feet on the hearth, and picked up the cordless phone. Calling the number Zubin had given her, she first had to negotiate her way through the receptionist at the hotel where he was staying. "Professor Kahn," She said when he answered. "Connie, is he all right?" "He's safe," She replied succinctly. "Where is he?" "I brought him home with me. I've given him a meal, we've talked quite considerably, and by now he's probably asleep in my bed." "Was he where I thought he would be?" Zubin asked, trying not to think too much about where Ric was right now. "Yes, but thankfully he didn't take much persuading to come down." "How is he really?" "Not brilliant, much as you might expect really. Zubin, he thinks he's let everyone down." "How much did he tell you?" Zubin asked, hearing the hint of real, authentic concern in her voice. "He told me about the numerous ex-wives, the even more numerous children, Samantha Kennedy, Diane, you name it." Zubin had to admit to being quietly impressed that Connie had got so much information out of him in such a short time. "Do you think I should come back?" He asked, feeling incredibly guilty that he wasn't there to support a friend who needed him far more than Jess really did. "If you're still involved with his daughter, no I don't," Connie said cuttingly. "That would probably finish him off altogether." "It's not quite so cut and dried, you know, Connie," Zubin protested vehemently. "Oh, yes it is," Connie said a little angrily. "You left a perfectly good job, not to mention a friend who really needed you today, just because you couldn't stop yourself from stepping over a boundary." "Oh, and you're a fine one to talk about stepping over boundaries," Zubin replied sarcastically. "I might mix business and pleasure," Connie said acidly, remembering to lower her voice. "But I don't duck out on a friend when he needs me, just because I'm having a mid life crisis, and have fallen for someone half my age. Ric already thinks he's let Jess down, so finding out that his best friend has taken over as half lover, half surrogate uncle, isn't exactly going to improve the situation, is it." "Then you'll know not to tell him, won't you," Zubin replied firmly. "You can thank your lucky stars that no, I'm not going to fill him in on that particularly pathetic little detail, but I think you need to decide exactly what your priorities are."
Connie was seething by the time she hung up. Why did Zubin always manage to do this to her? Every word he said just seemed to wind her up. Putting a guard round the cooling fire and switching off all the lights, she went upstairs. She smiled as she stood in her bedroom doorway, listening to the slow, reassuring sound of Ric's breathing. So as not to wake him, she didn't switch the light on, but undressed in the dark. Ric smiled as he listened to her taking a quick shower and cleaning her teeth, the sounds of her preparing for bed almost comforting. When she slipped into the bed beside him, turning onto her right side away from him, it dawned on him that this was the first time since Sam, that he'd shared a bed with anyone. It made him feel very relaxed to be so close to Connie, even if he wasn't actually touching her. But she wasn't relaxed, he could feel it. "Did you fight with Zubin?" He asked, bringing her immediately out of her thoughts. "I thought you were asleep," She said, turning over to face him. "Hardly," He said with a smile. "Your thoughts are louder than Jess's music." "Oh, we both started doing a bit of mud slinging, that's all, nothing either of us haven't heard before." He put his arms out to her, and she eagerly moved into his embrace, lying with her arms round him and her head on his shoulder. "I haven't done this for a while," She said contemplatively. "What?" "Just lain here with someone, knowing that they'll be here for the whole entire night. Sorry, that sounds unbearably soppy, doesn't it." "Soppy has it's place from time to time," He said, gently running his fingers through her hair. His gaze softened as he watched her face, her eyes for once completely unguarded. He could see the thoughts going on in their depths, gradually surfacing to one very definite point. When he saw her eyes slightly widen with the thought, he turned his face towards hers, meeting her lips midway. They were gentle with each other at first, lingering over every inch of each other's mouths.
When Ric turned onto his side, in order to be even closer to her, Connie turned onto her back, bringing his hand into direct contact with her right breast. "Subtlety isn't one of your strong points, is it," He said with a soft laugh, slowly caressing her breast through her cotton nightie. "Oh, you'd be surprised," She said between kisses. "I can be subtle, when I want to, but I don't need to be with you, do I." "No," He said, grazing his thumb over her nipple and making her gasp. She could feel her nipples hardening under his skilful fingers, the heat beginning to build between her legs. "Are you sure this is what you want?" He asked, needing to be certain before he attempted to take it any further. "Have you forgotten just how incredible it was last time?" She said, desperately wanting whatever else he had to offer. "As if I could," He replied, gently tugging at her nightie. As she hurriedly pulled it over her head, he swiftly removed the pair of boxer shorts he'd been wearing. When they came together again, their hands were everywhere. "At least there's plenty of space this time," Ric said with a smirk, remembering how they'd fitted so snugly into the cramped space of his sofa. "Definitely an advantage," She said with a laugh that turned into a groan of ecstasy, as his hand trailed down her side, over her hip and between her legs. Her beautifully smooth, completely hairless skin, that barely concealed the moist heat beneath, felt luxurious under his fingers. As he delicately inched his long, surgeon's finger deep inside her, then moving it up to begin massaging her now throbbing clitoris, she gasped in delight. "I'm not going to ask how old you were when you first learnt to do that," She said, slightly writhing under his touch. Ric laughed, loving the little sounds she made depending on what he did. "About as old as you were, when you first discovered how good it felt." "Are you casting aspersions on my character, Mr. Griffin?" She asked with a smirk. "No, just making an educated guess." As her hand dropped to his considerable erection, a wicked grin spread over her face. "Now that's one thing I do remember about last time," She said, running her hand the length of him, giving him a gentle squeeze to size up his firmness. "Feeling fuller than I ever have done before." "I do aim to please," He said, moving between her eagerly spread legs. He attempted to enter her gently, but she pulled him to her, gasping as his generous size really did fill her to capacity. As she wrapped her arms and legs round him, he angled his hips slightly to graze her G spot, making her cry out at the sensation. He could feel the softness of her breasts against him, and the slimness of her back and shoulders under his hands. When she internally squeezed him, he said through gritted teeth, "Don't do that, if you want me to last." Laughing evilly, she then got her just desserts, when he inched a hand between them and continued stroking and teasing her clit. "Ric, please," She begged, as he kept on mercilessly manipulating her. It gave him an incredible surge of ego to hear her plead with him to let her come. Taking slight pity on her, he sped up his thrusts, his unoccupied arm almost crushing her to him. She cried out as they came, the rush of feeling she had for him bringing brief tears to her eyes.
As they lay afterwards, breathing hard and with the sweat glistening on their skin, Connie said, "Well, that was certainly something I didn't expect to happen today." "No, me neither," He replied, gently kissing her cheek. "Do you feel better than you did earlier?" She asked a little while later. "Yes," He said simply, "Though I think I could sleep for a week." "Ric, will you promise me something?" She asked, turning his face towards her so that he couldn't avoid her gaze. "Next time you feel in need of a buzz, or just a chat, you come and find me. Okay?" He stared at her for a moment, trying to take in the meaning behind what she'd said. "Promise me," She urged. "Connie," He said slowly. "I don't want you to feel as though you have to say something like that." Briefly wanting to shake him with irritation, she said, "Ric, I'm saying this because I want to say it. If I didn't, I wouldn't. Okay?" "Okay," He replied. "I will." "Good," She said, gently kissing him as she pulled the duvet back over them and cuddled up to him, needing this one night of closeness, just as much as he did.
A Gambling Man's Guilt
Connie Beauchamp, consultant cardiothorasic surgeon, and Medical Director of Holby City hospital, thought that careerwise, she had it made. She was doing the job she loved, she had a registrar who was shaping up to being a very successful surgeon, and who was fun to play with when the fancy took her, and finally, perhaps the one irritant she'd had on arriving at Holby, was gone. Professor Zubin Kahn, the one man she hadn't been able to subdue with her sexual advances or suggestive innuendoes, had left to take a job in Paris. Connie knew that she would miss sniping with him, but she supposed that things would be a lot quieter for her now he'd gone. As she sat at the computer in her office, she could hear various intermittent sounds from the ward, all the familiar noises of a job she'd been doing for over twenty years. Stretching to ease a crick in her neck, the result of sitting at the computer for the last couple of hours, she yawned. All she really wanted to do on a freezing cold night like this, was to go home, pour herself a large glass of wine, and curl up in front of the TV. But her contemplation of the evening ahead was short lived.
When the phone rang, she had half a mind to ignore it, but picking it up, she said, "Connie Beauchamp," In her usual cultured tones. "Connie, it's Zubin." This made her sit up with a smile. "Professor Kahn," She drawled. "This is a nice surprise. I thought you were in Paris." "I am. Connie, I need you to do something for me." "It's a bit late for last minute favours, Professor Kahn. However, if you make it worth my while, I'll see what I can do." "I haven't got time for this, Connie," Zubin said, and she could hear the distinct edge of worry in his tone. "Have you seen Ric today?" "Yes, I saw him in theatre, earlier this afternoon. Why?" "Did he seem like his usual self?" "He seemed quieter than normal, but I assumed he was just tired, as the rest of us are." "How much do you know about his gambling habit?" Zubin asked carefully. "Enough, heard mostly via the grapevine. Why?" "When he was over here, he started gambling again. Connie, I'm not there to pick up the pieces this time." "Why are you talking to me and not Jess?" "Because Ric doesn't want her to know he's been gambling again, and because she isn't there either." "Is Jess with you?" Connie asked knowingly. "I don't think that's relevant," Zubin replied defensively. "God, you really like to play with fire, don't you," Connie said in amazement. "Connie," Zubin insisted. "I'm asking you to do this, because I think he might listen to you, and because I can't pull him out of it myself." "Okay, calm down," Connie said soothingly, seeing in an instant just how much friendship clearly meant to her once arch enemy. "Where does he usually hide?" "On the roof," Zubin said quietly, the three little words holding far too much significance for Connie's liking. "Oh, marvellous," She said in disgust. "Trust Ric to pick somewhere like that. Give me the number of where you're staying." When he had done, Zubin said, "Thank you, for doing this." "Save it," She said curtly. "I haven't succeeded yet. But don't worry, I'll find him."
Putting the phone down, she picked up her pager and walked out of the office. "Connie," Will called as she walked down the corridor towards the lift. "Not now, Will," She replied, in no mood for him. Leaving him in mid flow, she decided to take the stairs instead. Running lightly up to the eighth floor, she was grateful of how fit she was. When she emerged onto the roof, she immediately put one hand to her skirt, trying to hold it in place. The furiously blowing wind wasn't going to do anything for her self-respect if she didn't. When she saw him, she breathed a sigh of relief, she'd found him, exactly where Zubin had said he would be. Ric heard her heels as she walked over to him, her precise, authoritative walk instantly recognisable. But he didn't turn to face her, not wanting any company. He couldn't believe he'd gambled again, put both his and Donna's money on the casino table, not really giving a damn if he won or lost. He'd been doing so well, no gambling for ten months, and then he'd blown it. Why could he never do anything right? Why did he always have to screw up? He listened as she approached him, wondering just what she was doing up here. If there was one person he didn't want to witness his despair, it was her. "I thought I might find you here," She said, standing next to him where he was leaning against the wall. "Why?" He couldn't think of anything else to say to her. "Because a little bird told me that this was your favourite hiding place. Do you come here for a reason, or is it just the arctic conditions and height from the ground you like so much." There was something in her voice, a seriousness under her flippancy that told him she knew exactly why he'd come here. "Why are you here, Connie?" He asked, wanting to cut to the chase. "Because if you needed me in theatre, you would have paged me." "I wanted to make sure you were all right. That's not a crime, is it?" "Was my technique in theatre below par?" "Of course not, but neither did you appear to be your usual cheery self." Ric remained quiet. What could he possibly say to this? He hadn't been his usual self since he'd returned from Paris, he knew that. But why did Connie have to pick up on it. "I saw someone jump off here once," He told her, not quite knowing why he'd brought this up. "It was Tom Campbell-Gore's first day here, and that's how he lost his first patient." "And have you ever thought of doing that?" She asked quietly, not wanting to frighten him off, but knowing that the subject had to be raised at some point. Ric laughed mirthlessly. "It would solve a lot of problems if I did," He said bitterly. "For you maybe, but not for your children, and not for the people who care about you." "And is that your extremely transparent attempt to talk me down?" He asked carefully. "Does it need to be?" She asked. Ric thought about this for a moment. He didn't think he felt quite that bad, but he couldn't be sure he wouldn't. "Your silence has given me my answer," She said eventually, knowing exactly what she had to do. Putting out a hand, she took one of his, briefly chafing it between her own. "Come on," She said. "You are coming home with me, you are going to get a good meal inside you, and then you are going to talk to me." "You don't have to do this, Connie," He said, feeling more feeble and pathetic than he had done in a long time. "Yes, I do," She said firmly, walking away and tugging his hand until he followed her. "Because I am not letting you stay up here to freeze yourself to death, or anything else for that matter. Is that clear?" Knowing he couldn't argue with her, he followed her back inside and down the stairs.
When they reached the fifth floor, and the nurses station between Keller and Darwin, Connie said to Ric, "I'll be back in a minute. Don't you dare move." Quickly walking to her office, Connie picked up her jacket and her handbag, locking the door on her way out. "You going somewhere, Connie?" Will called from down the corridor. "Yes," She said curtly. "If you need a consultant, call either Mr. Roderick or Mr. Fariday." "You aren't serious?" Will said, following her towards the nurses station. "Mr. Curtis," Connie said, turning furiously round to face him. "You heard, I will not be available for the rest of the day. You are always begging to be allowed to demonstrate your skills and initiative. So, now's your chance." Stopping briefly at the nurses station, she said, "Chrissie, please can you arrange cover for Mr. Griffin and myself." "Oh, you two off somewhere nice?" Asked Tricia. "Wouldn't you like to know," Connie replied, not willing to say a word about where they were going. Beckoning to Ric to follow her, she walked towards the lift.
When they reached the carpark, Connie led him over to her silver grey jaguar, activating the central locking as she approached. When they were sitting in the car, with the heater on and Connie revving the engine, Ric asked, "Where are we going?" "First, we are going to wherever your flat is, so that you can get yourself an overnight bag. Then, I am taking you home with me." "Connie," He tried to protest. "Don't argue," She replied, pulling out of the carpark into the stream of traffic. Seeing that further resistance was futile, Ric just sat back, and gave her directions to his flat. When Connie drew up outside, she said, "Right, you've got five minutes. Any longer, and I'll be checking up on you." "I don't know if this is such a good idea," He said carefully. "Well, on this occasion, I know best." "Connie, why are you doing this?" "I'm worried about you," She said simply. "So go on, and I'll wait here." He wasn't used to hearing anything resembling gentleness in her tone, but he knew he was hearing it now. Taking her at her word, he was back in the car, with an overnight bag within five minutes. They remained in silence as she drove the rest of the way to her house, but as she drew to a stop in the driveway, he remembered something. "What about Mr. Beauchamp?" Connie smiled. "Mr. Beauchamp is in New York this week, so you've got nothing to worry about."
Ric realised just how low he must be, when he barely took any notice of the opulence of her house. It was enormous, carpeted and decorated in rich, warm colours, and furnished in heavy oak furniture. He followed her into a lounge that was surely bigger than the Darwin operating theatre. After switching on a gas fire with imitation logs, she gestured him to an armchair on one side of it. "Would you like some coffee?" Saying that he would, he sank into the depths of the armchair, some of the chill beginning to leave his bones. As he listened to her moving about in the kitchen, he began to look at his surroundings. Whatever Mr. Beauchamp did, he must have money. Though, he thought miserably, if he hadn't put all his salary and more on the roulette wheel, then he could have been living in something on the way to looking like this. But he'd lost it all, every god damn penny of it. Returning from the kitchen and placing two steaming mugs on the coffee table, Connie walked to a drinks cabinet, and retrieved a bottle of whisky. He watched as she poured a healthy dose into both mugs. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" He asked, his lips slightly turning upwards at the corners. "No, but you were up on that roof far longer than I was, and I'm still cold." Walking to the sideboard, she astonished Ric by retrieving a lighter and a packet of cigarettes. "That's not a habit I would expect to see in a heart surgeon," Ric commented, as she sat down in the chair on the other side of the fireplace. "Oh, and I thought that the reason we are here, is because of an addiction." "Who've you been talking to?" Ric asked, with a sinking feeling of dread. "Your extremely good friend, Professor Kahn. He phoned me today, because he is very concerned about you, and when he told me why, I was very concerned about you too." As Connie lit herself a cigarette, Ric took an experimental sip of his coffee. "Zubin shouldn't have phoned you," He said, thinking that if there was one thing this woman really could do, it was make very good Irish coffees. "Oh, and what else was he supposed to do?" Connie demanded. "He's on the other side of the English Channel, and he didn't trust you to be left to your own devices. So, start talking to me, Ric, and tell me why you came off the wagon." He watched her as she took a long drag of the cigarette, thinking that, bad habit as it might be, it did suit her. "I'm not sure that I even know why I did it." "Okay, so tell me about the last time you did." Ric recoiled as if she'd slapped him, the thought of telling her about what he'd done last New Year's eve unthinkable. "Diane gave me her credit card, to buy some champagne for the staff on Keller and Darwin, last New Year's eve. So, the first thing I did with it, was use it to gamble in an online casino. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just couldn't help it. As soon as I'd done it I regretted it. The last thing I'd ever want to do is to hurt Diane, and that's exactly what I did." "What feeling do you get when you do gamble?" "A buzz, a high, like it's the best thing I'll ever do." "So, you gamble in place of a really good orgasm." "Perhaps, though I've never thought about it like that. But I suppose I gamble far less, if at all, when I'm happy." Connie leaned over to flick her cigarette in the ashtray. "Well, that's obvious. I only light up when I've had a particularly difficult day, or when Mr. Curtis has been especially infuriating. Just as I can often go as long as a fortnight without having a cigarette, you have gone ten months without gambling. That's really quite impressive, you know. Just because you've come off the wagon once in all that time, doesn't mean you'll automatically go back to the way you were before. It's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of." Ric stared at her in astounded disgust. "How can you sit there and say that?" He demanded. "All I have ever done throughout my entire life, is let people down. Jess, Leo, Zubin, Diane, not to mention my four wives, my almost fifth, my seven other children, and virtually any other person I've come into contact with over the years." "How have you let Diane down?" Connie asked, going straight to what she perceived as the root of the matter. "I don't want to talk about Diane," Ric said quickly, his feelings on Diane's relationship with Owen still far too raw for public consumption. "Why?" She asked, determined to get it out of him. "My relationship with Diane Lloyd is not up for discussion," He insisted. "Ah, so you have had one, then," She pursued, receiving a glare of monumental proportions because she'd hit the nail on the head. Connie smiled. The fact that he was getting angry with her was all to the good. Anger meant that he was beginning to open up to her, and it was a far healthier emotion than simple despair. "I dated her when she was at med school," He said quietly. "And I've probably never quite got over it." "And it hasn't helped, that she's so blatantly flaunting her relationship with Mr. Davis, has it." "Can we get off the subject of Diane, please?" Seeing just how uncomfortable he felt, she relented. "Okay, tell me about the almost fifth wife, just to satisfy my curiosity." "Samantha Kennedy, she was an SHO on Darwin. Quite why I thought I wanted to marry her is anyone's guess. It sounds terrible, but I think I was bored." Connie laughed. "Only you would get married just for something to do," She said, stubbing the end of her cigarette out in the ashtray. "The day before we were due to get married, she gave me a cheque for twenty grand, to try and put a hole in my debts, and I put the entire thing on the roulette wheel." Connie's eyebrows soared. "My god," She said in awe. "You do like to live dangerously, don't you. Was that why you didn't get married?" "Not really, and she left Holby soon after, because Anton Meyer kicked her off his team." "Now, there's an act I wouldn't mind living up to," Connie said contemplatively. "You'd never get round him the way you do with the likes of Mubbs Hussein," He said, now feeling that it was high time she felt a little uncomfortable. But she infuriated him even more by breaking into a smile. "Is that supposed to embarrass me?" She asked with a laugh. "No, it was just an observation." "What makes you assume that you've let everyone down?" She asked, abruptly dropping him back into the icy water of confronting himself. "I'd have thought that was obvious," He said bitterly. "I've been a terrible father, a pretty useless husband and an amazingly lousy friend." "Jess doesn't think you're a terrible father." "Well, she certainly did the night she raided my wallet and cut up my credit cards. I think that's what I despise the most, the way I've never been anything like the father both Leo and Jess needed me to be." Hearing the break in his voice, she watched as he raised a hand to hover in front of his eyes. "You wouldn't be the first, not to live up to that expectation," Connie said quietly, not wanting to reveal her own first hand knowledge of this particular failure. "Two things, Connie," He said, sounding angry to cover up his emotions. "First, you don't know what it's like to fail at being a parent, and second, nothing you might say can possibly excuse the fact that whenever my children, or anyone else for that matter has needed me, I've never once done the right thing." She could hear the desperation in his voice, the strength of his need to maintain his dignity and equilibrium. But she knew it couldn't last. Ric was too depressed and too exhausted to keep it together much longer. All he needed was the encouragement to let go. Getting up from her chair, she moved to perch on the arm of his. When she gently drew his hand down from where it had been covering his eyes, she could see the tears shining in their depths, Ric putting up an incredible fight to prevent them from falling. He flinched as she put her arms round him, not wanting her to see him like this. "I do know what it's like to fail as a parent. Don't ask me to tell you how, I just do." "I bet you've never spent what was supposed to be the maintenance cheque, at the casino or on a horse," Ric said, his cheek against the softness of her breast, the reassuring thud of her heart in his ear. "There are worse things, believe me," She said, gently running her fingers through his hair. "I don't think I've ever felt quite as pathetic as I do now," He said, thinking that he'd never again be able to look her in the face after this. "I have extremely bad days too, you know," She said, softly rubbing his shoulder. "Besides, crying is medically proven to be good for you."
"I'm sorry," He said, finally detaching himself from her and digging a handkerchief out of his pocket. "It's all right," She said, gently touching his cheek. Then, getting up from the arm of the chair, she asked, "Are you hungry?" "I've barely slept or eaten since I got back from Paris, so yes." "Oh, Ric, that was two days ago," She lightly scolded. He stood in the kitchen doorway, and watched as she dug some home made casserole out of the freezer, and put on some rice to boil. As the aroma of herbs and vegetables began to fill the kitchen, Ric realised just how hungry he was. "I can see you salivating from here," She said with a wink. "It's a very long time since anyone's cooked dinner for me," He replied, still getting a distinct air of no other presence in this house, and thinking that it might be time to satisfy his own curiosity. "What's the story with Mr. Beauchamp?" He asked, when they were sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table, and Connie was pouring two glasses of red wine. "I was wondering when you'd ask," she said, putting the glass down in front of his plate. "His name's Michael." "So why the extraordinary lack of evidence of anyone but you in this house?" "You're not the first to say that," She said, taking a grateful swig of the wine. "But that would be, because Michael lives in the other half of this house. We might be husband and wife in name, but that's all." Ric watched her, trying to work out this little quandary. "He's gay," Connie clarified. "I met him when I was struggling to finance my way through medical school. I needed his money, and he needed the respectability of a wife, something that was demanded of his profession in those days. It's that simple." "Have you never wanted to break the arrangement?" "Good God, no," Connie said with a smile. "It means that I get the excitement and pleasure of an affair, without the headache of constant maintenance." Ric laughed. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it." "And we're not supposed to be talking about me," Connie said seriously. Ric just waited, knowing that his slight reprieve had come to an end. "What made you put Dr. Kennedy's twenty grand on a roulette wheel?" Putting down his fork, Ric took a swig of wine to allow him some time to think. "I don't know," He said eventually, not seeing what was right in front of his nose. "Okay, so what, if anything, happened around that time that changed things?" "Diane came to Holby and started working for me," He answered straight away. "When?" "The day before I was due to get married." "There you are then," Connie said succinctly. "Diane came back into your life again, and I suspect you realised that it was her you ought to be marrying, not some overgrown SHO with more money than staying power. So, what about last New Year's eve?" "Now, that really is verging into unwelcome territory." "Why?" Connie was really intrigued now. "How much have you heard about Kelly York?" He asked carefully. "Wasn't she Holby's resident serial killer?" "Yes. I almost slept with her." "Ouch," Connie said with feeling. "And I'll assume you've never really talked about that." "Well, it's not the kind of thing you want to admit to, is it, and talking about how I feel, isn't something I do." "Yes, I can see that," She said dryly. "But maybe it's about time you did," She added more gently. "Ric, I don't know how bad you felt today, and I don't really know how you feel now, but I have a good idea." "I wouldn't really have jumped, you know," He said, laying a hand over one of hers, both of them having abandoned their food once the conversation had returned to its former, darker path. "I'd rather be a lot more certain of that than I am," She said quietly, turning her hand over so that she was holding his. "When I asked Zubin where you usually hid, and he told me, it frightened the bloody life out of me. You've got no idea how relieved I was to see you were still there." Not knowing what to say, Ric simply watched her as she began putting everything in the dishwasher. As she moved to the side of his chair to take his plate, he put an arm around her waist. "Thank you," He said, "For pulling me out. God knows where I'd be now if you hadn't." "Well, next time you feel like hiding on the roof, or anywhere else, just try talking to me instead. I could do without any more frights like that." Feeling incredibly touched at her clearly understated sentiment, he gently pulled her down towards him. When their lips met, softly and lingeringly, it felt to both of them as if they were coming home. Neither of them had forgotten that occasion at the end of Connie's first day, it having made a deep and lasting impression on both of them, though neither would have wanted to admit it. "Go on," She said, eventually detaching herself from him. "Go and sit down." Taking his glass of wine, he obeyed her instruction, and went into the lounge. As he sank into the comfortable armchair, he could hear the November wind in the chimney, and the rain pounding against the window. Taking a sip of the wine and putting the glass down on the coffee table, he leaned his head back, and instantly closed his eyes.
When Connie went into the lounge, she smiled when she saw that he'd fallen asleep. It was after nine thirty, and he probably hadn't slept since he'd been gambling in Paris. Walking over to him, she gently touched his face. "Ric," She said quietly, not wanting to shock him. When he opened his eyes and briefly stared at her, for a second wondering where he was, she said, "You look exhausted." "Mmm," He yawned. "You could say that." "So go to bed," She said with a fond smile. "Do you mind?" "No, of course not. I've got a phone call to make, but I won't be long." "Not an international one by any chance?" He asked with a rye smile. "Well now, that's for me to know, isn't it." As he followed her upstairs, and into the sexiest, most expensive bedroom he thought he'd ever seen, he wondered just what she would say to Zubin.
When she'd left him to it, Connie went back downstairs, settled herself in her armchair with her feet on the hearth, and picked up the cordless phone. Calling the number Zubin had given her, she first had to negotiate her way through the receptionist at the hotel where he was staying. "Professor Kahn," She said when he answered. "Connie, is he all right?" "He's safe," She replied succinctly. "Where is he?" "I brought him home with me. I've given him a meal, we've talked quite considerably, and by now he's probably asleep in my bed." "Was he where I thought he would be?" Zubin asked, trying not to think too much about where Ric was right now. "Yes, but thankfully he didn't take much persuading to come down." "How is he really?" "Not brilliant, much as you might expect really. Zubin, he thinks he's let everyone down." "How much did he tell you?" Zubin asked, hearing the hint of real, authentic concern in her voice. "He told me about the numerous ex-wives, the even more numerous children, Samantha Kennedy, Diane, you name it." Zubin had to admit to being quietly impressed that Connie had got so much information out of him in such a short time. "Do you think I should come back?" He asked, feeling incredibly guilty that he wasn't there to support a friend who needed him far more than Jess really did. "If you're still involved with his daughter, no I don't," Connie said cuttingly. "That would probably finish him off altogether." "It's not quite so cut and dried, you know, Connie," Zubin protested vehemently. "Oh, yes it is," Connie said a little angrily. "You left a perfectly good job, not to mention a friend who really needed you today, just because you couldn't stop yourself from stepping over a boundary." "Oh, and you're a fine one to talk about stepping over boundaries," Zubin replied sarcastically. "I might mix business and pleasure," Connie said acidly, remembering to lower her voice. "But I don't duck out on a friend when he needs me, just because I'm having a mid life crisis, and have fallen for someone half my age. Ric already thinks he's let Jess down, so finding out that his best friend has taken over as half lover, half surrogate uncle, isn't exactly going to improve the situation, is it." "Then you'll know not to tell him, won't you," Zubin replied firmly. "You can thank your lucky stars that no, I'm not going to fill him in on that particularly pathetic little detail, but I think you need to decide exactly what your priorities are."
Connie was seething by the time she hung up. Why did Zubin always manage to do this to her? Every word he said just seemed to wind her up. Putting a guard round the cooling fire and switching off all the lights, she went upstairs. She smiled as she stood in her bedroom doorway, listening to the slow, reassuring sound of Ric's breathing. So as not to wake him, she didn't switch the light on, but undressed in the dark. Ric smiled as he listened to her taking a quick shower and cleaning her teeth, the sounds of her preparing for bed almost comforting. When she slipped into the bed beside him, turning onto her right side away from him, it dawned on him that this was the first time since Sam, that he'd shared a bed with anyone. It made him feel very relaxed to be so close to Connie, even if he wasn't actually touching her. But she wasn't relaxed, he could feel it. "Did you fight with Zubin?" He asked, bringing her immediately out of her thoughts. "I thought you were asleep," She said, turning over to face him. "Hardly," He said with a smile. "Your thoughts are louder than Jess's music." "Oh, we both started doing a bit of mud slinging, that's all, nothing either of us haven't heard before." He put his arms out to her, and she eagerly moved into his embrace, lying with her arms round him and her head on his shoulder. "I haven't done this for a while," She said contemplatively. "What?" "Just lain here with someone, knowing that they'll be here for the whole entire night. Sorry, that sounds unbearably soppy, doesn't it." "Soppy has it's place from time to time," He said, gently running his fingers through her hair. His gaze softened as he watched her face, her eyes for once completely unguarded. He could see the thoughts going on in their depths, gradually surfacing to one very definite point. When he saw her eyes slightly widen with the thought, he turned his face towards hers, meeting her lips midway. They were gentle with each other at first, lingering over every inch of each other's mouths.
When Ric turned onto his side, in order to be even closer to her, Connie turned onto her back, bringing his hand into direct contact with her right breast. "Subtlety isn't one of your strong points, is it," He said with a soft laugh, slowly caressing her breast through her cotton nightie. "Oh, you'd be surprised," She said between kisses. "I can be subtle, when I want to, but I don't need to be with you, do I." "No," He said, grazing his thumb over her nipple and making her gasp. She could feel her nipples hardening under his skilful fingers, the heat beginning to build between her legs. "Are you sure this is what you want?" He asked, needing to be certain before he attempted to take it any further. "Have you forgotten just how incredible it was last time?" She said, desperately wanting whatever else he had to offer. "As if I could," He replied, gently tugging at her nightie. As she hurriedly pulled it over her head, he swiftly removed the pair of boxer shorts he'd been wearing. When they came together again, their hands were everywhere. "At least there's plenty of space this time," Ric said with a smirk, remembering how they'd fitted so snugly into the cramped space of his sofa. "Definitely an advantage," She said with a laugh that turned into a groan of ecstasy, as his hand trailed down her side, over her hip and between her legs. Her beautifully smooth, completely hairless skin, that barely concealed the moist heat beneath, felt luxurious under his fingers. As he delicately inched his long, surgeon's finger deep inside her, then moving it up to begin massaging her now throbbing clitoris, she gasped in delight. "I'm not going to ask how old you were when you first learnt to do that," She said, slightly writhing under his touch. Ric laughed, loving the little sounds she made depending on what he did. "About as old as you were, when you first discovered how good it felt." "Are you casting aspersions on my character, Mr. Griffin?" She asked with a smirk. "No, just making an educated guess." As her hand dropped to his considerable erection, a wicked grin spread over her face. "Now that's one thing I do remember about last time," She said, running her hand the length of him, giving him a gentle squeeze to size up his firmness. "Feeling fuller than I ever have done before." "I do aim to please," He said, moving between her eagerly spread legs. He attempted to enter her gently, but she pulled him to her, gasping as his generous size really did fill her to capacity. As she wrapped her arms and legs round him, he angled his hips slightly to graze her G spot, making her cry out at the sensation. He could feel the softness of her breasts against him, and the slimness of her back and shoulders under his hands. When she internally squeezed him, he said through gritted teeth, "Don't do that, if you want me to last." Laughing evilly, she then got her just desserts, when he inched a hand between them and continued stroking and teasing her clit. "Ric, please," She begged, as he kept on mercilessly manipulating her. It gave him an incredible surge of ego to hear her plead with him to let her come. Taking slight pity on her, he sped up his thrusts, his unoccupied arm almost crushing her to him. She cried out as they came, the rush of feeling she had for him bringing brief tears to her eyes.
As they lay afterwards, breathing hard and with the sweat glistening on their skin, Connie said, "Well, that was certainly something I didn't expect to happen today." "No, me neither," He replied, gently kissing her cheek. "Do you feel better than you did earlier?" She asked a little while later. "Yes," He said simply, "Though I think I could sleep for a week." "Ric, will you promise me something?" She asked, turning his face towards her so that he couldn't avoid her gaze. "Next time you feel in need of a buzz, or just a chat, you come and find me. Okay?" He stared at her for a moment, trying to take in the meaning behind what she'd said. "Promise me," She urged. "Connie," He said slowly. "I don't want you to feel as though you have to say something like that." Briefly wanting to shake him with irritation, she said, "Ric, I'm saying this because I want to say it. If I didn't, I wouldn't. Okay?" "Okay," He replied. "I will." "Good," She said, gently kissing him as she pulled the duvet back over them and cuddled up to him, needing this one night of closeness, just as much as he did.