It was now Christmas Eve, over five months since Connie had returned from Ghana, and it seemed that very little had changed. The hospital was moving along in its usual, reliable fashion, especially now that Connie's iron grip on her staff had somewhat slackened. They had all noticed it, one way and another, the way her bitterly manipulative control had decreased, the way she appeared perfectly happy to simply let them get on with it. She no longer tried to run every single department like one of the sovereign states of her own private empire, but accepted that her colleagues were better left to manage their own people wherever possible. Connie wasn't happier as such, just quieter, more introspective, as though shouting at people really wasn't important to her any more. They had most of them also noticed the distinct absence of Michael, except on the few occasions he was forced to appear at hospital board meetings. The only person impolite enough to comment on this had been Zubin, who had been given pretty short shrift by Connie herself, who wasn't remotely prepared to give him any sort of explanation. With regards to her home life, Connie couldn't exactly say that things had improved, or that they'd even gone back to their old familiar pattern of before her trip to Ghana. She and Michael seemed to spend more and more of their time apart, only coming together in their bed at night for the occasional touch and go, mainly because Connie thought she should. She knew that her stay with Ric had severely tested Michael's pride, and that he had always been far more jealous of her series of away fixtures, than she ever had of his.
But now here they were, on the eve of one of the worst days of the year, and Connie was beginning to wonder if she really had changed all that much. Lola, with the voice that could be heard over at least three continents, had finally questioned her authority once too often. "Dr. Griffin," Connie told her icily, as they faced each other not far from the nurse's station. "Would you care to remind me precisely who runs this ward?" "You do, Chief," Lola told her blithely, clearly ignoring the far too evident danger signals in Connie's tone. "but..." "And as you are a mere registrar, and unlike myself, have not had contact with this particular patient for the last six months, do you consider that your level of experience gives you the right to question my judgment on this matter?" "Probably not," Lola admitted with a warm smile. "But..." "Then will you kindly leave this decision in my more than capable hands," Connie finished exasperatedly. "My grandma always said that two minds can think better than one," Lola put in brightly, causing the slowly gathering audience to hold in their laughter at Connie's reaction. Putting her hands over her eyes, Connie resisted the childish urge to stamp her foot in frustration. "Lola," She said, visibly trying to massage the growing headache from her own temples. "Current medical practices, neither have the time, nor the inclination, to accommodate every shred of family wisdom that you see fit to present me with. So please, can you leave memories of grandma at home, where they belong?" Taking a breath to argue her point, Lola clearly saw something in Connie's face that changed her mind. But as she turned to walk away, she caught side of someone standing by the lift, clearly having observed the entire scene, the rueful half smile on his face, showing that this was precisely what he had expected to see. "Eric," Lola said in surprise, not having expected to see him back here again. Spinning on her heel, Connie took in his casually dressed form, standing leaning against the wall as though waiting for the two of them to finish their row. Tricia, Chrissie, Donna and Lisa, they were all there to witness the look of pure happiness that briefly rose to Connie's face. Seeing this blatant sign of pleasure from Connie, Donna found herself wondering if the mistletoe she'd put in Connie's office might actually get to do its job.
"Mr. Griffin," She said, the smile snapping off as she walked towards him, as though her face suddenly remembered that it had an audience. "This is a nice surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure?" "I'm staying with Jess for Christmas," He told her, also aware of their collective scrutiny by what felt like everyone he'd ever worked with. "Spending a few days in the constant company of Professor Khan?" Connie said with a little smirk that only he understood. "Sounds like my worst nightmare." Ric laughed, her comment successfully breaking the ice. He had kept in touch with Connie, having exchanged several letters with her over the last few months, but he hadn't told her that he was coming to England for Christmas. He had wanted to surprise her, and it appeared that his moment of romantic insanity had worked. "Do you have to be somewhere?" She asked quietly. "Or can I have your undivided attention for a little while." "I'm all yours," He told her very quietly, taking advantage of the steady resumption of chatter. Ric's words, uttered in that deep, gravelly voice, gave Connie the first vagaries of sexual feeling that she'd had in months. It was as though his voice went straight to her core, reminding her of every delicious touch she'd received from him in Ghana. Thinking that she was probably incapable of forming a coherent sentence in this highly adolescent state, she turned and led the way to her office, naturally assuming that he would follow her. Tricia gave him a smile as he walked after Connie, making Ric wonder just how much she knew.
When Connie closed the door of her office behind them, she turned to face him. "You didn't tell me you were coming," she said, allowing a warm smile to return to her face. "I wanted to surprise you," He said, feeling a little stupid. "Well, you can be assured that it's made my day," She told him without hesitation, inwardly marveling at how his mere presence could bring forth such closely held confidences from her. Gently putting his hands on her shoulders, Ric scrutinized her. If he wasn't much mistaken, she was thinner than when he'd seen her last, with definitely not enough colour in her cheeks, showing that all her time was being spent either in theatre or in this office. She had dark shadows under her eyes, telling him more than any words that she hadn't been getting anywhere near enough sleep. "You look tired," He said quietly, wishing that in all those letters she'd written, she had really told him how things were between her and Michael. "I've just been working a lot, that's all," She said, inwardly cursing the tears that rose to her eyes at his concern. It seemed so long since anyone had noticed something so insignificant about her. She could feel his hands on her shoulders, as though they were branding her, and the heat of his far too near body that was calling to her to cling to it, to again be close to the man who had given her that brief haven of peace. "I've missed you," She said, her voice a little unsteady with the strength of her feelings. "Hey," He said, pulling her to him, and catching sight of the tears in her eyes. "I didn't come back here to make you cry." "I'm sorry," She said, feeling utterly stupid. "You're right, I am tired." They stood close for a while, his cheek resting on her hair, taking in every familiar aspect of her. It was funny, how he had learnt so much about her in those few days, all the little quirks of her body, from the mole on her left shoulder, to the way her hair always gave away her addiction. "I see you're still smoking," He admonished gently, breathing in the evidence of her habit from the strands that tickled his face. "That's your fault," She said into his shoulder. "How can it be my fault?" He asked, a broad smile creasing his face. "It's that particularly bad influence you have on me," She assured him cheekily. "You were bad long before I met you," He said, sounding so sure of himself that it made her laugh.
Then, glancing up at something that caught his eye, Ric asked, "Whose idea was that?" Gesturing up at the bunch of mistletoe that hung from the ceiling above their heads. "Oh, I think it was Donna's," Connie said with a smile. "A couple of days ago, she and Lisa suspended hostilities long enough to go round putting bunches of mistletoe in every consultant's office. They seemed to think that doing it while I was in a board meeting, would mean that I wouldn't be aware of the identity of the culprit." "Nothing changes round here, does it," Ric said ruefully, thinking that at this time of year especially, some of the nurses really did act just like over eager school children. "What amazes me, is why you expect anything to change," Connie almost purred, her eyes lingering on his, caressing the windows to his soul, just as her hands had touched his body all those months ago. When their lips eventually met, it was as though a spark had been relit, after months of being dormantly asleep. Connie felt the immediate surge of feelings inside her, as though her own sexual arousal had been dormant for months as well, which she supposed in a way, it had. She might have occasionally slept with Michael over the last few months, but that didn't mean she'd really enjoyed it. Her jibe to Michael back in July had been right, having slept with Ric for that small, though very concentrated amount of time, she now couldn't be fully aroused by Michael's touch any more.
Ric had pulled her even closer to him if that were remotely possible, and her arms went up around his neck, her fingers tangling in the soft, thick hair. He could feel her nipples hardening against his chest, his own arousal also beginning to make its presence felt. "Have you missed me that much?" He said with a smirk, bringing one hand up to gently tease at her left breast. "No more than you've clearly missed me," She said, moving her thigh up against him. "That at least is predictable," He said, in dismissive acceptance of his body's usual behaviour. "When might Jess be expecting you?" Connie asked, hardly able to concentrate with his silkily wandering hand moving over her still covered skin. "Not until eight," He told her, glancing at his watch to see that it was only just after six. "Then if you have no objection," Connie said with a gasp, as his fingers moved over her already erect nipple. "I need you, here, now." "That's what I've always liked most about you," He told her, moving them over towards the sofa. "The way you're not afraid of saying precisely what you want." "I wouldn't get anywhere if I was, now would I," she said with a laugh, briefly detaching herself to start the CD playing on her computer, to provide some soft background music. "I can't exactly promise that I'll be able to be quiet," She said in explanation, sinking down onto the sofa beside him, as Ric reached over to lock the door. "And I don't like being disturbed," He told her, recapturing her mouth in a blissful exploration of familiar territory.
When he felt her undoing the buttons of his shirt, he moved to undo her own, exposing her beautifully sculptured cleavage encased in a simple cream lace bra. Her nipples were poking at the flimsy material, begging to be caress by his skilful fingers. As her blouse was cast aside along with his shirt, he reached round and unfastened the clasp of her bra, her breasts falling warm and ripe into his hands, as soft and inviting as the sun drenched apricots he so often ate at home. As he pushed her gently back on the sofa, reaching for the button of her skirt, her hand moved to his belt, as eager as he was for them to be skin to skin once again. When he finally lay on the sofa with her, holding her beautiful naked body in his arms after so long, he took a moment to revel in the feeling of being with her again. Ric had desperately tried to put Connie out of his mind after she'd gone, other than on a basic level of friendship, but he knew he had been kidding himself. So often in those long lonely nights, he had woken from dreams of her, thinking that she was back in his bed, back where he knew she belonged. Remembering her curt dismissal all too well from the year before, when he had tried to get to know her after their little exploration at the end of her very first day, he didn't want to put any pressure on her by telling her how he really felt. But now here he was, holding her in his arms again, and about to make love to her, and Connie wasn't just accepting the situation, she was part of it, wanting it just as much as he did. But as his hands began reacquainting themselves with every deliciously proportioned curve, he again found himself thinking that she really had lost weight, and a little too much if he was any judge. She was doing the same to him, her hands spanning the muscles of his chest, gently tugging at the coarse black hairs, which made him laugh, and eventually descending to the considerable erection that rose to greet her. But before her hand could begin moving on him in earnest, one of his crept between her slightly spread legs, causing them to widen even more in delight. "You really are pleased to see me," He said with pleasure, as he discovered just how aroused she already was. "You're not kidding," she said, her kisses deepening as he slid three fingers inside her liberally lubricated warmth. "I..." She stopped, feeling a little embarrassed at what she'd been about to tell him. "What?" He asked between kisses, his thumb grazing back and forth over her clitoris. "I haven't been as wet as that since Ghana." "Oh?" He said, clearly a little mystified as to why. "Listen to you, Mr. distinct lack of ego," She told him with a broad smile. "It's because you were so incredible." "That's nice to know," He said, feeling his spirits soar even higher than they were already. "Though I'm sorry if it's made things difficult over the last few months." "Well, I suppose that's the downside of being something of a tart," She said philosophically. "Finding that one's husband is no longer good enough." "I wish you wouldn't refer to yourself like that," He admonished her gently. "It neither suits you, nor is it a remotely accurate description of you." "Okay, calm down," She said dismissively. She had been about to say more, but as his fingers found her G spot, she was forced to clamp her mouth shut in order to avoid crying out, and telegraphing to the entire ward what they were doing.
Not long after, she inched her leg underneath his, urging him to move over her. As he slid inside her, they both felt as though they were coming home. Connie clung to him, her legs and arms holding him tightly to her, just for that stretch of time revealing the true extent of her need for him. When she'd woken up this morning, she never could have dreamt that she'd be feeling his long, slow, penetrating thrusts by the end of the day, taking her closer and closer to the orgasm she'd been searching for ever since she'd returned home from Ghana. He could feel her need, her intense desire to keep him with her forever, and it warmed his heart. She hadn't said as much, but she had clearly been craving his touch just as much as he had hers. When they simultaneously came, he had to cover her mouth with his in order to swallow the cry that came from her with absolutely no thought to their surroundings. He lay with his face against her neck, both of them breathing hard. He made a move to withdraw from her, but she tightened her hold on him, as though afraid he might leave her altogether. Thinking that she wouldn't want his full weight resting on her, he turned them onto their sides, his softened self slipping out of her, but still resting snugly between her slender thighs.
They lay for a long time afterwards in almost perfect silence, with only the soft piano music on the CD, plus the occasional sounds from the ward to penetrate their afterglow. Connie felt warm, drowsy and entirely content. She was here, in her nice warm office, lying on her sofa in Ric's arms, after the most fantastic sex she'd had in months. What more could a girl ask for? Following the pattern of the music, Ric deftly played his fingers over her rich, glowing skin, and occasionally kissed her. They didn't need to speak, all their words having been exchanged by the infinitely more accurate medium of touch. But eventually, Ric knew that their time must come to an end. Lifting his arm from where it rested over Connie's bare shoulders, he glanced at his watch, to see that it was after seven-thirty. "I've got to go," He told her regretfully. "I wish you didn't have to," She found herself saying, the words slipping out before she could think better of them. "I'm sure I can manage to see you again while I'm here," He promised her with a smile. "I'm sorry," She said, trying to rouse herself, back into her usual controlled state. "This has just been the nicest day I've had for a long time, that's all." "It is for me too," He assured her. "Something of an early Christmas present you might say." "It's the best one I'll probably get this year," She agreed, as they got up from the sofa and began putting their clothes on. "I've got the undeniably dubious pleasure of entertaining Michael's parents tomorrow, which involves putting on the act of a perfect marriage. It'll be a farce, but then I suppose that's what Christmas is all about." "Whereas I'll have the joys of seeing Zubin playing happy families with my daughter," Ric said ruefully. "But that's the price you pay for having too many children, I suppose." "Ric, I wouldn't have missed this for the world," She told him, as they again stood close to each other under the mistletoe. "No, nor would I," He replied gently, kissing her long and hard, because he didn't know how long it had to last before he saw her again. "I wouldn't say no to the odd phone call over the next couple of days," She said evasively, not wanting him to think she was desperate for his attention. "I'm sure I can manage that," He replied with a smile, thinking that getting one over on Michael Beauchamp would definitely be worth the risk.