Part 2 of 5

She is totally vindicated in her opinion of him that he is looking into her eyes and nowhere else. This next move might be a bit cruel… he's JUST an English man, after all, but the prize is very valuable… she cups herself gently and pushes up a bit, "You know… bigger?"

His head begins to shake side to side, the movement growing as does his agitation, "Oh, no, no, no… not THAT! I had to WATCH that! It's just a bag of solution inserted behind the pectoralis muscle. It's totally fake. And think how it would feel if someone were to… you know… touch you there. It would feel like a foreign body lodged under your skin. It can't feel natural or… or… you know… erotic."

She smiles. His eyes are no longer riveted upon hers. "You've given this a lot of thought, I see."

"Well, yes, I have! I couldn't help it. Not after witnessing…" His voice trails off then his eyes snap up as if just realizing where he is, "I guess I AM a little scarred at that. Sorry," he mutters as a faint blush washes over his cheeks then fades quickly.

She drops her hands and says in a business-like manner, "Don't be. I hadn't thought about the erotic angle. You're right. A lump under your skin will always feel like a lump… something foreign that doesn't belong." She sighs. "It was just a thought. I wasn't really tempted… but I have wondered over the years…" Her thoughts are suddenly drawn into the past. Why is nothing ever simple with this man?

He hears the change in her voice, looks back up to her, "Wondered what?"

She waves a hand in the air, "Oh, you know… if my life would be different if I had been different."

Now it is his turn to comfort and support and he is very happy to do so, "Well, I've seen a lot of women officers come and go and I can tell you that slim and lithe outdoes buxom every time."

"Every time?"

She quirks an eyebrow at him that affects him oddly but he bravely carries on, "Every single time."

"On the job? Or in their personal life?" Now she is smiling at him… but also… she really wants to know.

"Oh, um, on the job. I wouldn't know about their private…" He looks a bit furtive.

"Um hum. It matters there, doesn't it?" she nods emphatically.

He bows his head a little, mutters, "Well, I suppose… men DO talk… not that they let the women hear it, of course." Now HIS thoughts are in the past as well… not somewhere he wants to be. He'd much rather stay here… in the present… in his new life… with… He raises his head and studies this woman anew. Yes, he nods to himself, yes… with her. The realization washes over him like cool water.

"And do YOU talk… about women? Where we can't hear it?" she gently teases, not knowing the sudden flurry of thoughts that are flying through his head.

He is scandalized and shaken out of his reverie, "Absolutely not! Once I got into the position to prevent such rot, I did it in a hurry. Officers under my watch are treated strictly alike. I'm disappointed that you would think otherwise." He looks at her with sorrow… surely she knew him better than THAT!

"I don't think otherwise. I'm just trying to make you compliment me. If this doesn't work, I'll pick a fight with you and see what I can shake loose."

He is silent, his thoughts settling once more at his sudden problem at hand, "I don't want to fight. I can compliment you without trickery."

"Can you? Will you?"

"Certainly. Please don't do anything unnatural to yourself. You are perfect as you are."

"Even…?" she glances down at herself and back up to him.

"Even... especially even."

She smiles then, "OK. Mind you, it would help convince me if I thought there was even the remotest possibility that my breasts might be pleasing to someone I really care about."

He has to turn away once more, "I'm sure there's someone somewhere with enough sense to see you for who you are." He says back over his shoulder, "Don't have the surgery, please."

She takes a tiny step towards his unprotected back. How she wants to press herself up against him, to feel HIS body as nature intended it to be. Instead, she puts a hand on his shoulder which tenses up immediately, "All right. You've convinced me… for NOW... but if someone doesn't come along soon… and I mean SOON… I'll have to revisit this decision. I'm tired of being left on the shelf as the unwanted toy. I need a man in my life… and the one I really want doesn't seem to be interested."

"More fool him," he murmurs with pained restraint and a hot little stab of jealousy that he can't quite control, "Shall I send Dwayne around to sort him out?"… and to hide the body, he fumes.

She pauses, Is it possible he doesn't know? Unbelievable… but SO Richard! "No, Dwayne says I have to let the man make up his own mind… but I'm beginning to lose hope. What makes a man hesitate? Why can't men just say what they feel?"

"You know, your mother asked me that VERY question when I was ill with the fever," he chuffs.

"I know. She told me."

"She didn't like my answer."

"You didn't really answer the question she was asking. You surprised her with the soup rant."

He laughs, feeling the mood lighten. This conversation has gone places he isn't ready to venture into… not just yet, "Ah, yes, the soup rant. She still hasn't forgiven me."

"I think she has. She has other things to think about now."

"Such as?"

"Getting me married." His back tenses up. "Grandchildren." His hands turn to fists. She notices all this and decides on a suicidal course of action. Talking isn't working. Words are his forte and he has an entire arsenal at his disposal. She can't best him in that arena but she has a different arsenal at HER disposal… so… time to change venue.

End – part 2