When Connie eventually made it downstairs, Ric had found her an ashtray, and poured them both a glass of the crisp, chilled Chablis that he'd found in the fridge. When she appeared, Ric held up a slightly fragrant package. "I picked this up on the way home," He told her with a tentative smile. "Is that what I think it is?" Connie asked, her tiredness suddenly abating. "It certainly is," Ric said with a grin. "Some sort of illegal dalliance is definitely what I need this evening," Connie said, wondering just where Ric managed to lay his hands on something like that at a moment's notice. When she sat down in a corner of the sofa, and Ric began to roll a joint for them to share, Connie was struck with a thought that made her laugh. "Do you know something," She said, now thoroughly cheered at the concept. "Michael would have a fit if he thought I was smoking dope in what used to be his house." "Oh, well," Ric said philosophically. "Let's hope he finds out."
When the joint was rolled, they lay along the sofa, and Ric put a light to his creation. Connie was reclining in the crook of his right arm, with her head on his shoulder. When they were contentedly passing the joint between them, Connie collected on the earlier deal she had struck with him. Ric allowed her to do this, because he wanted her to be as relaxed from the dope as possible, before he started asking some questions of his own. "So," Connie began after taking a drag. "Tell me what you did this afternoon, after the funeral." Taking a thoughtful drag of his own, Ric only partly regretted striking the deal with her in the first place. "We would have stayed with Jess and Zubin, but they wanted some time on their own. The four of us drove back to the hospital in your car, and we went for a drink in the bar across the road." "I thought Mickie seemed a little starry-eyed when she came back on duty," Connie said with a knowing smile. "Lola gave them a tenner and asked them to make themselves scarce. Lola might drive me to distraction most of the time, but she does talk sense very occasionally, and she does know me better than nearly everyone else." "I suppose that's what happens when you're married," Connie said a little wistfully, telling Ric that this wasn't something that had ever taken place during her marriage. "It did me good to talk to Lola, it usually does. So, after hammering a great deal of her grandmother's wisdom into me, she went back to work, and I began to walk home. I was glad I'd decided to do that, because it wasn't raining and I wanted some time to think." Ric stopped, slightly hesitant to go on with his shameful story. Connie simply waited, knowing that he would continue in his own time, and not wanting to crowd him. "The air was crisp, really bitter, but it felt incredibly wrong to find it quite so invigorating, today of all days. As I walked, I thought about you, and about Jess, and about Paris, and I..." He stopped again, far too embarrassed to put what he'd felt into words. "Go on," Connie encouraged gently. "It'll sound stupid," He said, almost afraid of her reaction. "Tell me," Connie said softly but firmly, acknowledging his difficulty, but wanting to make him really open up to her. "I... I wanted to cry," He said quietly, flinching from his own admission. "Now you listen to me," Connie told him firmly, a slight hint of moisture rising to her own eyes. "Don't you ever feel stupid, or bad, or wrong for wanting to do that? It's one of the most natural things in the world, and would probably do you an enormous amount of good." "Oh, and that's why you hide any sign of that 'Perfectly normal reaction' from pretty much everyone you know, is it," Ric demanded, laying special emphasis on how he knew she would term such a release. "I hide it from my colleagues," Connie told him hotly. "Because it does not do to appear weak in front of one's subordinates or rivals. As a result of Michael being who he is, I was also forced to hide it at home, where any self-respecting being might assume that I could happily let my self go as it were. That does not, however, mean that I see it as something to be hidden at all costs." "So, what you're actually saying," Ric replied, slightly smiling at her. "Is that it's one rule for you, and one for the rest of us." Connie grinned back at him. "Why of course, Mr. Griffin, and if you haven't realised that already, you've got a very long way to go." Tilting her face up towards him, he kissed her, both of them tasting the wine and the dope on each other's lips.
After a while of some simple cuddling, Connie said, "Come on, you've got a story to finish." Ric's body immediately stiffened, showing her that there was yet more that he really didn't want to tell her. "I walked passed the betting shop," He said, feeling as though he was sitting in Gambler's Anonymous, admitting his failure for the very first time. "You said you walked past," Connie clarified. "I must therefore assume that you didn't go in." "No, I somehow managed to avoid actually doing that." "I'm proud of you," Connie said wholeheartedly, leaning up to kiss him. "It doesn't mean I didn't want to," Ric told her, not wanting her praise when he felt that he really didn't deserve it. "Why didn't you go in?" She asked, wondering what his reason had actually been. "Because I knew that if I did, there was no way I'd be able to stop myself from putting whatever was in my wallet on a horse, and... I... I didn't want you to be disappointed in me." Connie just stared at him, a rush of feelings almost enveloping her. She was unbelievably moved by his having not gambled to please her, a height of love and respect that she wasn't entirely sure she could live up to. Ric could see the effect that he'd had on her, making her temporarily speechless. "Connie," He said tentatively. "It doesn't mean that I'll always be able to resist the call, it just means that I did this time." "I know," Connie said a little hoarsely. Reaching to stub the second joint out in the ashtray, she turned on her side to be as close to him as possible. She kissed him with all the fever she was capable of, pressing herself the entire length of his body, clinging to him in fear that he might be taken away from her. He held her close, having needed this safe haven of warmth all day and wanting to make the most of her while he still had her.
But when she slightly retreated from him with an exclamation of sheer frustration, he smiled knowingly at her. "Do you ever feel unbearably sexy at this time?" "Yes!" She replied in total disgust. "And there's never a single, bloody thing I can do about it." Smirking wickedly at her, he said confidently, "That was before you met me." "Oh really?" She said teasingly, wanting to spur him onto further endeavour. "Take off your blouse," He said. "And I'll show you." "And I thought I knew everything when it came to giving pleasure," Connie said philosophically as she sat up and unbuttoned her blouse, slinging it and her bra over the back of the sofa. When she lay back down, he gently turned her over until she was lying on her right side with her back against his chest. "Now, close your eyes," Ric told her in that deep, gravelly, utterly masculine tone that made all her senses quiver. "And listen to every word I tell you." Already she could feel her innards melting at his words. She would never admit it, but just occasionally, she loved being submissive, just for once not being the one in control. "When you came out to Ghana last week," Ric continued, hardly unable to believe it had been such a short time ago. "You finally told me just one of your secret fantasies, something I've been wanting you to do for some time now." "Well, how extraordinarily foolish of me," Connie said with a smile. "You told me about your little liking for a certain midwife," Ric told her. "Now, keep your eyes closed, and just try and picture her, as she was when you allowed her to shadow you for a while. Picture that admiring face, completely enthralled by every single word you uttered, and you know how much you love to be put on a pedestal by those who are too young and innocent to do otherwise. You said that you couldn't resist flirting with her, so let's assume that you took it further than you actually did. Wouldn't it have given you an enormous kick, to teach her just how pleasurable a woman's touch could be?" "I've a feeling Donna Jackson got there first," Connie replied, though her voice had taken on that deep huskiness that told Ric his efforts were producing fruit already. "Imagine how that would have felt," Ric continued. "To take her hands, and show her how to give you pleasure." Having his arms round her from behind, Ric took one of Connie's hands in his, encouraging her to touch herself. As her own fingers tenderly caressed the underside of her right breast, Connie could far too easily picture Mickie Hendry doing the same. "She may take a considerable amount of teaching," Ric went on. "Because we both know that you are extremely particular about how you like to be touched." He manipulated Connie's fingers so that one of them began circling her right nipple, making her gasp at the sheer naughtiness of what they were doing.
"You would gently instruct her to continue using her hand on you," Ric said as he deftly turned Connie to lie on her back, and then slid a little way down the sofa. "But having one breast so mercilessly teased wouldn't quite be enough for you, would it. Therefore, you would ask her to run her tongue over you, like this." He bent his head, and ran just the tip of his tongue around her left nipple, his eyes focussed momentarily on her own wandering hand, finding himself almost unable to tare his eyes away. Connie groaned with rising ecstasy, immediately blushing at just how incredible she was finding this. "You might even be so bold as to ask her to try suckling on that nipple that could probably cut diamond, it's so hard and erect." As his lips enclosed said nipple, Connie thought that she must be in heaven. The combination of her own hand and Ric's soft, full lips was driving her wild. No one, not Michael, not anyone, had ever tried to be quite so innovative with her. The only part of her that was being stimulated was her nipples, yet she was approaching an incredibly powerful orgasm in spite of that. As Ric alternated between crooning soft, delightfully sinful words to her, and using his lips to further her pleasure, she flew nearer and nearer to her peak, eventually soaring over her own horizon and feeling freer than she had ever done. She cried out as her walls of mental and emotional incarceration crumbled away, knowing that Ric wouldn't have done this, wouldn't have bestowed quite so much love and attention on her if he hadn't meant every single word of it. Michael used to avoid exchanging the merest touches of hand with her during this time of unavailability, yet Ric had actively chosen to kiss her, caress her, and make her feel wanted. What else could she possibly ask for?