A/N: This follows cut of conscience, and is the edited version. When it is finished, the unedited one will be up on
Spice Of Life
They slept in each other's arms on the Thursday night, their combined need for closeness uncommonly strong. Connie dropped him off at his flat on her way to work on the Friday morning, and made him promise to come and see her later in the day, so that she could take a look at his scar. Part of her didn't want to let him out of her sight, though she knew this was slightly irrational. She couldn't believe he'd cut himself like that, and privately thought that neither Diane, nor Jess, nor probably even Zubin could have predicted that he might do something like this. She kept an intermittent eye on him on Friday, whenever she was in his presence, and he often exchanged a soft glance with her to tell her that he was perfectly all right.
At around lunchtime, she casually walked up to him as he was standing at the desk, going through various patient files with Lisa. "My office, Mr. Griffin, I'd like a word," She told him quietly, receiving a questioning glance in return. "I'd like to check up on my handiwork," She added in an undertone, gesturing to him to go ahead of her. After retrieving a clean dressing from the nursing supplies cupboard, Connie entered her office, to find him relaxing in the leather armchair in front of her desk. "You've been checking up on me all day," He said with a smile as she approached him. "I know," She admitted sheepishly. "I haven't wanted to let you out of my sight." "I'm sorry I frightened you," He said, drawing her towards him and pulling her down onto his knee. "Just don't do it again," She said gently but firmly, briefly thinking that it must be years since she'd perched on any man's knee. "Connie," He said, turning her face towards him so that he could look her straight in the eye, and appearing to be a little apprehensive. "You didn't, orgasm last night, did you." He seemed to slightly hesitate over the correct verb. "No, you know I didn't," She said, touched at how much he seemed to regret this. "I'm sorry," He said, bitterly wishing that this could have been otherwise. "Ric, last night wasn't about sex," Connie told him. "So it really doesn't matter. However, I'm certainly not about to refuse, if you should attempt to rectify that this evening." The look on her face was so wickedly sinful, that he couldn't help smiling. "You have a deal," He said, softly kissing her. "I was going to suggest that you allow me to cook you dinner." "Okay, that'd be nice," She said, clearly thinking that the idea held possibilities. Still sitting where she was, she gently took hold of his arm, and removed the dressing. The stitches still looked clean and dry, so she simply replaced the old dressing with a new one. "Not bad, for a piece of work done on the hop," She said contemplatively. "Thank you," He said, thoroughly surprising her. She was about to respond, when there came a knock on the door. Slipping languidly from his knee, she bade the person to enter. It was Diane. "Connie," She said, looking a little surprised to see Ric. "Can you sign this for me?" She asked, holding out a sheaf of forms that required the signature of the Medical Director. Answering the bleeping of his pager, Ric said to Diane, "Harry wants me in the ED, which probably means that we'll be needed in theatre." "Okay, I won't be long," Diane told him as he made for the door. "Mr. Griffin," Connie called after him, briefly looking up from the forms she was signing. "You've got lipstick on your chin." Taking one look at him to verify Connie's statement, Diane laughed. "It would have been funnier to leave him like that," She said, watching Ric as he strode out of the door, furiously scrubbing at his face with a handkerchief. Then, feeling that she was being a little slow on the uptake, Diane glanced at Connie, seeing precisely the same lipstick on Connie's lips, as had been smeared on Ric's face. She had been about to comment on it, but something else pushed this revelation entirely out of her mind. Connie was, a little furtively, removing what was clearly an old dressing and the wrappings of a new one from the top of her desk, discarding them in the bin in the corner of her office. "Is Ric all right?" Diane asked, knowing there was something she was missing but unable to work out what. "Erm," Connie hesitated, standing looking at Diane, and finding herself at once lost for words. "A chat with someone who knows him as well as you do, probably wouldn't go amiss," She said evasively. "Connie, I'm the last person he'll talk to," Diane told her. "It would mean losing too much of his pride." "Diane, please don't ask me to break a confidence, that I know he would prefer I keep." "Okay," Diane said reasonably, seeing the point immediately. "But thank you, for whatever you are doing for him. He looks better on it than he ever has before after gambling."
A little while later as they operated almost silently on the patient, Diane thought it was a good time to raise the subject. "Are you going to tell me why Connie is covering up for you?" She asked, as she and Ric bent over the patient. "What makes you assume she is?" Ric replied, briefly glancing up at her. "You might give me some credit," Diane told him firmly. "For being a friend if nothing else." "It's complicated," Ric said quietly, refusing to meet her gaze. "And not something that ought to be discussed here and now." But afterwards, when they were washing their hands in the scrub room, Diane started in on him again. "Connie looked as though she was clearing up after dealing with an injury," She suggested, immediately knowing she was right because Ric turned and stared at her. "What happened?" She asked. "Did you get into another fight?" "Not exactly," Ric said, looking away from her again. "Ric, talk to me," Diane insisted, grabbing hold of his left arm to stop him walking away from her. "I'm worried about you," She added when she'd got his attention. "I'm sorry," Ric told her, barely suppressing the wince of pain as her hand closed over his scar. "But I can't talk to you, not about this." "Okay," Diane replied, feeling utterly useless. "But I am here, if ever you change your mind." Letting out a metaphorical sigh of relief as she let go of him, Ric walked out of the theatre, wishing he didn't have to push Diane of all people away.
He tried to put this out of his mind, as he moved through the rest of the day, half of his brain centered in on his coming evening with Connie. He owed it to her to give her the best night she'd had in ages, to make her lose that self-control she prided herself on, to persuade her to give into every sensation he might induce in her. When she came to find him around seven o'clock, she looked tired but happy. "You're looking particularly chipper," She said as he locked his office door. "Well, perhaps I know what's coming," He said, flashing a smile at her. "Well, Mr. Griffin, you never know your luck," She said as they began to walk towards the lift. They could both feel the anticipation in the air as they drove, the heightened awareness of the other's presence, the distinct sense that the charge of electricity was inexorably building. But when they reached Connie's house, and she gave him free rein with the contents of her kitchen, Connie left him to it, saying that she needed to shower away the grime of a hard day. Allowing himself a few moments to take stock of what he had to cook with, Ric reflected that this was the one of his few and far between talents that didn't often get a chance to shine. There were precious few women to impress with his culinary skills these days, and nowhere remotely enjoyable to cook in since he'd moved to the bed-sit. Teaching Jess the art behind the creation of food had long been an uphill struggle, because she saw it more as a science that was there to baffle her, rather than an opportunity to create something truly wonderful. It brought back a pang of memory of his days at medical school, as he investigated the fridge and retrieved the makings of a delicious meal. The flat he'd shared with Zubin and a couple of other friends, had been an artist's studio where cooking was concerned, and the more drunk they'd been, the weirder the concoctions they would create. Spying a bottle of Frascati in the fridge, that would provide a perfect accompaniment with what he was cooking, he removed the cork to let it breathe. When his simmering creation could safely be left for ten minutes, Ric poured Connie a glass of the chilled, Italian white wine, and took it upstairs to her.
When he appeared in the bedroom doorway, Ric couldn't help but gape. Connie was stood in front of the wardrobe, clearly trying to decide what to wear, with every inch of her beautiful body on display for all to see. "I wouldn't bother," Ric told her, putting the glass of wine down on the dressing table. "It's not as if it'll stay on for long." "You're very sure of yourself," She said with a smirk. "Do you really expect me to be remotely restrained with a sight like that?" He said, gesturing to her fabulously constructed curves. "See something rather tempting, do you?" She asked, slightly turning towards him. "Very," Ric purred, moving slowly towards her. "Hmm, I suppose it's not looking all that bad this evening," She said, briefly glancing in the full-length mirror. "Connie," Ric said in astounded amazement. "Have you really looked at yourself lately?" "Familiarity breeds contempt," She told him succinctly, as he laid his hands on the backs of her shoulders, gently guiding her to stand in front of him, with her back to him, looking straight at her incredible reflection. "That, is what I have to force myself to avoid thinking about, every time I work with you in theatre, and every time I see you verbally tare strips off somebody, because if I didn't banish the thought of what you are hiding under your clothes, I would be in serious danger of taking you up against the nearest wall." "Promises, promises, Mr. Griffin," Connie said with a laugh, his voice and his words clearly turning her on. Encouraging her to lean back against him, Ric ran his hands down to cup her breasts, his fingers simultaneously grazing over both nipples. "Now, if I really were an exhibitionist," Connie said, her voice deepening with lust. "I would derive an enormous amount of pleasure from watching myself." "How do I know that you don't already?" Ric countered back, feeling her nipples harden under his touch. "You love to show off, you know you do. However," He said, as she turned to face him, clearly wanting to take this further. "If you don't want my creation to burn, you'll have to wait." Making a sound of utter disgust, Connie detached herself from him, tugged a black, silk robe from its hanger, and shrugged it over her shoulders. "That's to make you feel as frustrated as I am," She said, taking a sip from the glass of wine and walking with it towards the door.
As Connie sat down at the kitchen table, and Ric began bringing everything to its final stage of cooking, she couldn't help but be intrigued as to what he'd come up with. "I didn't know cooking was one of your talents," She said, trying to work out what it was from the wonderful combination of aromas. "Why do you think I managed to persuade five women to say yes to marrying me," He said as he drained some rice. "Not for your skills in the kitchen," She admitted with a smirk. "Ah well, that too," He said, removing a covered dish from the oven. When his mobile rang from where he'd placed it on the table, Connie reached it first. "Mr. Griffin's phone," She answered, sounding far too pleased with the situation, and ignoring Ric's frantic hand gestures to hand it over. "No, I'm afraid he has his hands full right at this precise moment. It's your daughter," She added, to halt Ric's urgent mouthing at her. "No, he's fine really. He's here with me, cooking me dinner, and is finding my talking to you highly embarrassing." Putting the plates down on the table with a thump, Ric swiftly removed the phone from her hand. "Jess," He said, wondering if it was remotely possible to gather together the tatters of his self-respect. "Are you checking up on me?" "Yes," Jess told him firmly. "I went round to see you, but you weren't in, and it is a Friday night, Dad. I thought you might be at the casino," She added quietly. "Well, as you heard, I'm not," He told her seriously. "Yeah," Jess said with a broad smile. "It must be years since you cooked a woman dinner, not since Sam, in fact. She really must be good." "Oh, she is," Ric said with total certainty. "Well, don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jess told him. Suppressing the urge to say that no, he wasn't about to go and sleep with someone old enough to be his father, Ric told her to take care and switched off the phone.
When he put the plate down in front of her, Connie took in the grilled chicken strips in a light, creamy mushroom sauce, the saffron rice and the delicately cooked spinach with a practiced eye. "Well, I really must admit to being thoroughly impressed," She said after taking a delicious mouthful. "You don't have to sound quite so surprised," Ric said in mock affrontedness as he began on his own plateful. "The only man I've ever known to cook as well as this, apart from Michael, is Carlos." Connie had put some Tori Amos on the stereo in the lounge, and it provided a gently soporific atmosphere as they ate. "This meal sort of reminds me of you," She said after a while, provoking a somewhat raised eyebrow from him. "I dread to think," He said dryly, taking a swig of the wine. "Well, it looks far more complicated than it actually is, it's extremely colourful, and is beautifully rich and sexy without being too overbearing." Ric laughed. "Well, for a start, rich is something I am definitely not." "I was referring to your voice, not to your bank balance." "And where do you get the colourful bit from?" "The whole spectrum of feelings that you have hiding under that outer mask, that only a privileged few of us can see through, if that isn't being particularly presumptuous of me." "Well, you've certainly managed to get closer than most in the last few days," He admitted quietly, the intensity of the gaze that flashed between them, making them both momentarily stunned. "And much as it terrifies me to admit it," She said eventually, looking extremely uncomfortable. "You've done the same with me."
They finished their meal and cleared up in contented silence, both a little lost in their thoughts. "Connie," Ric said eventually, as she set the dishwasher going. "I don't want you to think, that I'm expecting anything from you." He knew this was a pretty feeble way of telling her just to take each day as it comes, but they seemed to be the only words he could find. "I don't," She said, turning to look up at him. "I'm more afraid of what I may or may not expect from myself, if that makes any sense. I'm not used to this, letting someone, anyone, passed my outer shell." "Sh," He said, gently laying a finger across her lips. "Just go with the flow, it's really much easier on both of us." She knew he was right, and for this evening at least, that's what she resolved herself to do. As he delicately pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and met her soft, full lips with his even fuller ones, she realised that anything she felt, anything either of them felt, really didn't matter.
As his hands slid inside the easily opened robe, her arms rose to go around his neck, her fingers creeping into his luxuriously thick hair. "You'll have me melting right here if you're not careful," She said in that low, husky drawl that made him as stiff as a board. "And I didn't think you were quite so easily pleased," He replied, as they moved haphazardly out of the kitchen and towards the stairs, Connie making a quick detour to retrieve her CD. "If you have entirely the wrong music," She said confidently. "It can ruin the most fabulous sex without even trying." "Oh, a piece of sexual etiquette known the world over, I suppose," He said dryly, thinking that she of all people would probably know such a thing. "Of course," She said as they entered her bedroom. "It simply wouldn't do, for one not to be well versed in such things." "You're outrageous," He said as she began to swiftly remove his clothes. "And I thought that was what you liked about me," She said, sounding almost offended. "Oh, you be as outrageous as you like," He encouraged, slipping the robe from her shoulders. "It makes a very nice change, for a woman to know exactly what she wants, and to not be afraid of asking for it." "Believe me, Mr. Griffin," Connie said as if talking to a man far beneath her. "If I told you every, single thing I thoroughly enjoy in bed, we'd be here for the next fortnight." "Yeah, and that's only taking into account the things that are legal in this country," Ric teased her, as one of them flicked back the duvet and he pulled her onto the bed with him. "You're learning, Mr. Griffin, you're learning." His hands were all over her, teasing and stimulating every erogenous zone he knew of, and finding a few new ones along the way. Her skin was so soft, so supple, all except her nipples which were by this time almost painfully hard. When she felt his lips go round one of them, gently tugging at her sensitive peak, whilst softly soothing it with his tongue, she really began to relax. She knew Ric was good at whatever he might do to her, so she didn't need to worry. Perhaps this was the bonus in sleeping with someone she'd slept with before. She gasped when he slid his hand between her legs, every nerve ending she possessed feeling as though it had been turned up to maximum. Ric took his time in arousing her, lingering over every touch, every languorous exploration. But as he kissed his way down her torso, she had the brief impression that he was worshipping every possible inch of her, as though he was doing anything he possibly could to make her feel special. When just the very tip of his tongue grazed the outer surface of her labia, she shivered, as yet unwilling to admit how long it had been since she'd been given this particular delicacy. Her skin was completely hairless and as smooth as silk, telling Ric that he was going to enjoy every minute of this, as this wasn't something he'd had the opportunity to do since Sam. God, she tasted so sweet, so luxuriously rich, that he knew he would never get enough of it. She could feel every flicker of his agile tongue, as it first savoured her sweetness, and then moved up to begin teasing her clitoris. Jesus, that tongue really ought to be made illegal, she thought, barely suppressing a groan as his enchantingly sinful lips sucked on her tiny bud. "You don't need to be so quiet," He said, briefly lifting his face from her. "Don't you dare stop," She said, her voice very unsteady from the electricity coursing through her. Laughing softly, he returned to his task, mercilessly teasing and then retreating, never quite allowing her to reach her peak. Cruel as it may have seemed, she was loving every minute of it, the heightened awareness of what was always kept just out of reach, really testing her stamina, until she thought that she surely couldn't last without it any longer. This was precisely what Ric had wanted, knowing that the longer she was made to wait for it, the more she would enjoy it, and Connie tasted so divine, that he knew he could last as long as it took. She had long ago abandoned any hint of verbal restraint, though she found that the presence of the music took the need to speak from her, making their communication solely by touch all the more intense. But when he heard a barely perceptible whimper of "Please," From her, he knew it was time to let her come. It had taken a lot for Connie to give in, to forego all that suave, unconcerned insincerity, to beg him to give her release. As his tongue became more firmly centered on her clitoris, he slipped three fingers into her well lubricated depths, finding and then grazing her G spot with every thrust. Her breathing quickened, her body stiffened, and she came with a cry of abandon that he would cherish for ever. He hadn't given a woman this enormous amount of pleasure in far too long, and to have her express it so freely, so thoroughly, made him feel on top of the world.
As Connie lay there afterwards, she couldn't believe what he'd just done for her. That had, no doubt whatsoever, been the most explosive orgasm she'd had in a very long time. As she hazily watched him move back to lie beside her, she opened her mouth to speak, but then found that she just didn't have the energy to say anything. Ric simply lay there and softly smiled at her, waiting for her to come back to the land of the living. When she eventually summoned up the strength to turn onto her side to face him, his strong gentle arms went round her. When she kissed him, she could taste herself on his lips, something that had always intrigued her. "Well, you've made me achieve one of my goals," He said with a smirk when she'd almost devoured him in search of her own taste. Connie simply raised an eyebrow at him. "Ever since I leant you my shirt, on that very first day, it's been my mission to make you scream." "I do not scream," She said in total indignation. "Do I?" She asked, suddenly realising that it was perhaps something of a possibility. "Not quite," He said with a laugh. After another long and contented silence, punctuated by some lingering kisses, he said, "The way you went after your own taste, one would be excused for thinking that you'd quite like to try that for real." He knew he'd been taking a hit in the dark, but the confirming blush that immediately rose to her cheeks made him smile. "And there I thought nothing could ever make Connie Beauchamp blush," He added, gently kissing her. "We all have our hidden depths, Mr. Griffin, even you," She said, looking thoroughly uncomfortable. "Anyone I know?" He asked. "Before you die of humiliation, that is." When she didn't immediately answer, he added just to put her at her ease, Tash, Diane's predecessor was gay, and it took me six months of working with her, and of making a complete and utter fool of myself, before I had to have it forcefully pointed out to me." In spite of her slight embarrassment, Connie couldn't help breaking into a slightly malevolent laugh. "Yes, I thought you'd find that somewhat amusing. Tash thought it was hilarious." "Mickie Hendry," Connie told him, knowing she didn't have to, but thinking it would probably do her good to laugh about it. "Mickie Hendry from Maternity?" Ric asked in astonishment. "Yes, yes, I know," Connie said hurriedly. "Far too young, highly inappropriate, extremely out of bounds. But my god, it certainly gave me a fair few nights of uninterrupted fantasy." So as to distract him from her revelation, she began kissing him again, running her perfectly manicured hands over him, swiftly bringing his substantial manhood to full hardness. "Do you want me to forget about it that much?" He asked. "Yes," She told him firmly. "It's one of those things I would like to be able to forget myself." To shut him up entirely, or at least for the moment, she pushed him onto his back, swung one leg over him, and sank deliciously down onto him, causing him to groan with excitement as her boiling heat enclosed him. She internally gripped him, making him wonder just how long he could last under her onslaught. Connie was forcefully reminded of just why she adored this position so much, when he began yet again touching her clitoris, perhaps making this the real holy grayle of female sex, in being able to arouse the two most successful points of female pleasure in one go. Never mind about him, Connie thought to herself as he continued to do this, she wasn't sure how long she would last at this rate. When they simultaneously came, he pulled her to lie on his chest, kissing her long and hard.
He kept her there for a while, lying on his chest with his arms around her, and with his softened self still inside her. There was something incredibly tender in this closeness, something that, after that first day back in June, neither of them would ever have expected. Connie had brushed him off back then, rejecting every advance he had tried to make. But here, now, it felt to both of them as though the wait had well been worth it. They didn't need to say any of this, the feelings they were sharing being more than enough to make the other understand. They had, if temporarily, dragged each other out of the depths of despair, and that, if nothing else, was worth all the months of sniping any day.
A good while later, when they were reclining in the bath, each with a glass of wine to hand, Connie couldn't help but revel in the pleasure that was being heaped upon her tonight. She was sitting between Ric's legs with her back to him, as he tenderly massaged shower gel into her shoulders. Just for tonight at least, she wanted to live as decadently as possible, to allow herself to overflow with the feelings that were almost burying her. "Is there anything you can't do with your hands?" She asked with a smile, taking a sip from her glass on the side of the bath. "I'm not very good at playing the guitar," he replied, clearly wishing he could. "Well, this evening, you've been playing me like a pro," She said, leaning bakc into his chest, so that his arms went around her. He adjusted her position slightly so that her head rested on his shoulder. "One can only pplay like a pro, when one's instrument is as skilfully proportioned as you are," He said, kissing her lingeringly, both of them tasting of the chilled white in their glasses.
"Tell me about Mickie," He said after a while, that particular area of curiosity not yet fully satisfied. "Nothing to tell," She said, having realised he would bring this up again at some point. "She badly wants to retrain as a doctor, so I let her shadow me for a day or so, and to my intense astonishment, found myself flirting with her. No more, no less. I wouldn't ever have done anything about it, because she is far, far too young, and much too naive. That would have been even worse than... Well..." "Even worse than Zubin sleeping with my daughter," Ric finished for her. "Yes, something like that." Then, after a moment's pause, Connie added, "Will liked her. He was the one who really encouraged her to think of going to medical school. but, then, Mickie introduced him to Jodie, and it came out that he'd worked with her some time ago, and acquired his medal, whilst at the same time botching a serious operation on her. I don't think I've ever witnessed quite so much hate in anyone before her. She resented every minute he'd lived since receiving that medal, because she felt that no one had been brought to book over what had happened to her. God, she must have resented every breath he took." bitter tears were coursing down her face at this point, but Ric simply encouraged her to keep on going, knowing that this was where they had begun, a week ago now, and this is what must happen to help her heal. "I've got absolutely no idea whether or not she planned what she did, but I suppose a part of her must have done. How could she do it? How could she drive so cold bloodedly at him like that? And how could weak, stupid, naive Mickie try to help her? I know it's completely irrational, but I don't care that she did the right thing in the end, I can't care that she finally made the right decision, not yet." Connie was crying bitter sobs of pure grief by this time, and all Ric could do was to hold her, occasionally kissing away her tears, and waiting for her to calm down.
When her tears had finally dried, she felt more than a little foolish for her outburst. "I'm sorry," She said, her grief having left her with a few shuddering gasps. "connie, you don't need to be sorry," He told her gently. "Not for trying to get through this in whatever way works best for you. Yesterday, you said that it didn't make me weak to cry, so I should imagine the same philosophy might just work for you." "This is roughly where we started last week, isn't it," She said with a watery smile. "Yes, and we're both better off because of it. I don't want to think, where either of us might have been without the other this week. A terribly, soppy thing to say, but there you are."
Later on when they were cuddled close in her bed, they both spared a thought to thank the impulse that had brought Ric to her office the week before, to drag her from the slump of misery, for them both to become the rock that the other so badly needed. It didn't matter that they were both as disfunctional as each other, what mattered was that they knew and could accept the other's weaknesses. To be there for a friend, was now one of the things they were learning to do best, and if that sometimes came with some incredibly explosive sexual pleasure, so be it.