Chapter Four
A Few Small Steps towards Evolution

She felt utterly ridiculous. What self-respected, hard working woman allowed her… special someone? to blindfold them and lead them around town. It was irresponsible, asking for trouble, and romantic, three things Elizabeth Webber had always tried to avoid, but, while her mind protested Jason's actions, she went along with them, her complaining on the light side. When he had called her that morning, he had requested her to spend time with him that afternoon but had asked for their destination and plans to remain a secret, a surprise. He had sounded so happy on the phone, so carefree and spontaneous, she had not had the heart to deny him. Call her weak, call her sentimental, hell, call her foolish, she already was saying those things about herself after all, but never say that she didn't try new things or, once in a great while, relinquish control to someone else. That said though, enough was enough. The novelty of not being able to see where she was going had long since worn off, and, unless Jason had some perverse sense of humor where he enjoyed watching her trip over her own two feet every other step, then she knew her companion for the afternoon was ready to end their adventure as well.

Sick of thinking and needing a distraction from her own clumsiness, she asked good-naturedly, "and why again did you want to surprise me with our destination?"

"Deniability," the doctor answered. If she wasn't so good at reading people, even blindfolded, then she would have missed the note of humor in his voice and believed he was sincere with his response; he was that convincing.

"Nice try, Dudley-Do-Right. Let's try this again." Prompting him, she pressed, "you wanted me unable to see where we're going because…"

"Because this way you'd have no idea how to find your way back," Jason responded honestly. "This way, if you want to leave, you have to wait for me to take you. Otherwise, you'll get lost."

"That's not necessarily true. You see, women understand the idea of asking for directions… unlike our weaker, male counterparts on the evolutionary chain."

He chuckled at her cheekiness, tightening the hold his right arm had around her waist and squeezing her. "There's just one flaw with your logic there, Webber."

"And that would be?"

"In order to ask someone directions, you have to be somewhere that is inhabited, where you can find other people to ask. Where we're going," he revealed, "there will just be you, me, and nature."

"Nature, huh," she repeated as if to question him, a sly grin on her otherwise deceptively angelic face. That Elizabeth had not been expecting. Prim and proper, conservative, straight laced goody-two-shoes Jason Morgan was taking her on a date where they were going to have to, apparently, rough it. She had been thinking they were going to some over-priced and stuffy restaurant or maybe even an out of the way inn where they could be alone with no interruptions, but never did the word nature enter her thoughts. That said, she was pleasantly surprised; after all, she carried a gun. Maybe he was taking her hunting. A girl could only hope.

"What are you thinking," the pediatrician's query interrupted her thoughts. Bewildered, she simply tilted her head in his direction, her unseeing eyes behind the handkerchief focused in the direction she believed him to be. "I can see the wheels turning in that devious mind of yours," Jason explained his question. "You're planning something."

Arguing, she stated, "you're the planner today; I'm just the doer. However, that said," she admitted, shrugging her petite shoulders, "I was just thinking that I might get to shoot my gun this afternoon. I've been too busy with the new gallery to go to the shooting range, and I miss it."

"You brought your gun with you? We're just going on a date."

"And someone has to make sure you don't get fresh with me, Quartermaine," she teased, elbowing him softly in the ribs, "or, in this case, something."

Returning the joshing, he remarked, "we already covered this. You're the trouble maker between the two of us. If anyone needs protection here, it's me."

"Aw, Jason," she giggled, enjoying their bantering. "Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. Your sanctity is safe with me."

"What if I don't want it to be safe?" Startling her, the blonde picked her up and pulled her against him, holding her several inches off the ground with their bodies pressed intimately together. Walking forwards still with her in his arms, he stopped only when her back was pressed up against a cool, hard piece of wood. Although Elizabeth couldn't be sure what it was, it was flat and solid, and it felt large enough to be a door. "What if I want you to take advantage of me?"

When she went to reply, she felt his warm, moist breath pooling across her face. The unexpected closeness, their noses rubbing together tenderly, made her gasp, and, when his lips found the tender flesh of her jaw line, she moaned her approval. If this, the two of them together with no interruptions and only their basic human attraction to keep them occupied, was what Jason had meant when he said it was just going to be them and nature, then she would voluntarily move to the woods, cast aside civilization permanently, and allow the good doctor to bring his blindfold with him.

Finally, after several attempts of regaining her bearings, the accountant managed to whimper in response, "only if you promise to return the favor."

Evidently, it was exactly what he wanted to hear, and the next thing she knew they were inside someplace warm, her body was resting on a comfortable piece of furniture, and her special someone was braced on top of her, his solidly muscled form held above her, barely teasing her with the promise of his erotic, sensuous weight against her. However, he never gave her what she wanted; he never lowered himself further until they were melded together from the tips of their toes to their lips. Instead, she felt the handkerchief being lifted from her eyes, and, as it fluttered down to the wooden floor of the small building they were in, Elizabeth, surprisingly, felt its absence and missed it, missed its ability to heighten all her other senses.

"You know," Jason whispered, his mouth moving against hers as he spoke and tempting her to silence him permanently with a kiss, "this isn't what I brought you out here for."

"Well, isn't that a shame."

Ignoring the open invitation her statement was meant to be, he continued. "I've been here before, during the summer months when we used to come out here as kids to go swimming, but this is the first time I've ever been here during the winter." Swallowing hesitantly, he lifted his gaze away from hers and stared at the rafters, his slight embarrassment and palpable fear of rejection coloring his otherwise naturally tanned face. "I wanted to do something new with you, something that we've both never experienced before."

Reaching up a leather gloved hand, she tenderly cupped his face. "That sounds really nice." Although touched by his gesture, Elizabeth was not ready to completely eradicate the levity they shared in their fledgling relationship. She needed the humor to keep it from becoming too real, too meaningful. "However," she taunted him with a mischievous smirk, taking in their rustic (for Quartermaine standards) surroundings, "how do you know that I've never had sex before in a boathouse?"

"Who said anything about sex?"

Confused, the younger woman pushed against his chest, insinuating that she wanted to sit up. After he allowed her to, she regarded him closely. "Jason, we're in the middle of nowhere, alone, and I highly doubt anyone is going to interrupt us out here. What else did you want to do?"

"Ice fishing," he replied easily, gesturing towards the two fishing poles and small container of bait he had set aside for them.

"Well, I'll be damned. Looks like I'll get to kill something after all."

"And I brought lunch, too," the medical professional shared eagerly.

Glancing towards the picnic basket he had indicated, Elizabeth stood and made her way towards the food, chastising him quietly. "I doubt asking your family's cook to make you a lunch for two when your wife is quite obviously not with you was a very good idea."

"Cook didn't make it," Jason confessed, nodding for her to open the wicker lid. "I did," he continued after she had done as he silently asked. "Although, it probably would have been better if Cook had."

"No," the accountant fervently denied. "This is perfect. I hate stuffy, formal food. But peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and cookies, on the other hand, they're right up my alley. And, what's this," she asked while, simultaneously unscrewing the thermos' lid and smelling the steaming hot liquid. "Hot chocolate?" Sighing, she graced him with a delighted, thankful smile. "Hot chocolate just might be my favorite thing in the whole world."

Standing up, Elizabeth made her way back over towards the old, lumpy couch taking up one whole wall of the old boathouse. Climbing onto her special someone's lap, she straddled him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and brought them close enough together that their foreheads could touch. Shifting coquettishly against him, she smirked wickedly when he gulped in anticipation. "What…," Jason attempted to ask but had to stop and regroup his thoughts, her actions driving him to distraction. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like," the private artist retorted saucily. "I'm rewarding you," she answered for him, "for taking me on such an original date."

He quirked his brow at her. "Original is good then?"

"The best," Elizabeth murmured before dropping her lips to brush against his not once, not twice, but three times before pulling back when she sensed that he wanted to say something else.

"Just to let you know, I don't want to… you know," Jason fidgeted, avoiding her questioning gaze. Clearing his voice, he clarified, "I don't want to sleep together yet, not here."

"But that doesn't mean we can't fool around, right?

"Right."

"So we can pretend that we're hormonal teenagers again who can't go all the way but really, really want to?"

She could see her own gaiety glittering back at her in his much lighter blue eyes. "We can act as if we're parking up at Vista Pointe."

"Vista Pointe?"

"Don't worry," Jason told her. "I'll take you there sometime."

"Is that a promise?"

"More like a threat."

She went to laugh, but her humor was swallowed by his mouth as it closed over hers, devoured hers, conquered hers, and she was his willing conquest. As they settled down more comfortably on the old sofa, Elizabeth pressed familiarly underneath him, she had a feeling they wouldn't get much fishing done that afternoon. Not that she was going to complain. Making out with Jason with the abandon and innocent desire of a teenager ranked much higher in her book than attaching a dirty, disgusting worm unto a hook. She might be a pretty touch chick who didn't take anyone or anything's crap, but even she drew the line at night crawlers. After all, a girl had to have her standards.

"You're late," Sonny Corinthos greeted his accountant later that week. "And you're dressed up, I see." The sarcasm practically dripped from his words.

"I wore nice pants, a sweater, and I traded in my leather boots for a pair of ballet flats," Elizabeth defended her wardrobe choices. "What more do you want from me?"

"Some color would be nice."

"It's winter, so I wear black."

He eyed her closely. "And what changes exactly during the warmer months?"

Lifting her chin up a notch, Elizabeth's posture was practically a challenge in and of itself. "I switch from black to dark grey. Besides," she added tauntingly, "when did Mr. Blackwell die and make you the fashion police?"

Before the Latino could reply, his wife was at his side, smiling softly and welcoming their guest with a caring hug and sisterly kiss to the cheek. It never failed. Whenever her husband and his young accountant were in the same room together, they inevitably started to bicker. Sonny, who was much older than the artist, would attempt to father her, offering unsolicited advice, and, if there was anything her friend despised, it was someone else telling her what to do. So, during the few times a year they would meet up for an evening and have dinner together, she was their buffer, their peacekeeper, and Lily found the situation, if nothing else, amusing.

"Please, sit down," she gestured towards the sectional seating area dominating the great room of their penthouse after pulling away from the younger woman. "Dinner is almost ready. In fact, I think Michael was about to check on it right before you arrived. Weren't you," she prompted, turning to face her husband, and, as only a married couple could, they communicated further without any words needing to be shared. Once they were alone, she joined the brunette, taking the chair across from her.

"He's too old fashioned," Elizabeth complained, making the older woman smile indulgently. She loved when the accountant was in town or they got to spend time together. Although the wife and mother adored her life with her husband and her children, Elizabeth brought a vitality, a sense of energy to their home that, when she wasn't there, Lily found herself missing. "I swear, sometimes I think that man expects me to walk around in knee length skirts and pearls. Well, let me tell you what, he'll go legitimate before that ever happens."

"I have no doubt. Unlike Michael, I can't picture you in a dress."

"Of course not," Elizabeth agreed readily. "My gun would completely ruin the line, and I'd have to wear a holster."

Deciding it was time to change the subject, the older woman sat back comfortably in her chair and asked, "so, how are you liking Port Charles so far?"

"It's like all the other cities I've lived in but colder." Lily watched as her friend averted her gaze and lifted a hand to tuck an errant curl behind her ear, obstructing her ability to read the artist's expression. "I don't mind the snow and ice though. There are ways a girl can stay warm."

"Elizabeth?"

Guiltily, the brunette popped her head up, her bright sapphire eyes wide and seemingly innocent. "What?"

"Are you… are you seeing someone?"

"I see people all the time," the accountant replied readily, purposely avoiding Lily's true question. "In fact, I'm seeing you right now. Why do you ask?"

"You know what I mean, Elizabeth. Do you have a boyfriend?"

The younger woman grimaced, wrinkling her cute button of a nose up in disgust. "Ugh, I hate that word. I don't do boyfriends. I casually date, I have one night stands, and I occasionally find a friend with benefits, but that's it. Relationships are trouble I don't need, especially with my line of work."

It was her turn to respond naively. "Since when did crunching numbers and running art galleries because a liability where the idea of love is concerned?"

"And I don't fall in love either."

"Not yet," Lily corrected her friend, "but someday…"

"Listen, I know that you want me to have what you have – the husband, the kids, the perfect little mafia family, but I'm not like that," the brunette stated defiantly. "My life is better when I'm alone."

"Alright, so you're not ready for marriage right now," the older woman conceded, "but that doesn't mean that you can't go on some double dates with Michael and I. While you're in town, I'd like to take advantage of your company, and Michael has some really amazing guys working for him right now, guys who are used to and comfortable with our… less than conventional lifestyle. If nothing else," she teased, "you can compare guns with them."

"Thanks but no thanks," Elizabeth begged off, standing up and moving towards the bar. As she went through the various bottles of expensive liquor, looking for something simple, something that was as close to beer as she could get, she continued. "Like I said, I'm not into dating, and, even if I was, I'd never let you set me up with one of your husband's guards. Face it, Lily, our tastes in men, among other things, are vastly different. Besides," she added after finally giving up hope of finding that she wanted, "I'm too busy right now."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." Switching topics, she wandered around the penthouse, pretending to look in odd corners and behind large pieces of furniture. "Now, where are those kids of yours? I've been planning what bad words and naughty habits I could teach them while I'm here tonight all week."

The older woman laughed, uncrossing her slender legs, standing up, and moving after her friend. "Lolita is at a friend's house, and Mateo is having dinner with his Grandfather this evening. Michael wanted tonight just to be the three of us; he wanted us to have the chance to catch up with each other."

"No, what he wanted was to make sure I didn't corrupt your angelic children," Elizabeth corrected her host playfully.

As the man in question came back into the great room, Lily led her younger friend to the table. "Trust me, they are far from angelic. With Michael as their father…"

The two women shared a conspiratorial laugh as Sonny set his latest masterpiece, their dinner, down, and, though she let the subject of men and commitment drop, the wife and mother knew there was something Elizabeth was hiding. The fact that the artist had a secret didn't bother her; what did was the fact that Elizabeth felt she needed to keep the secret in the first place. Whatever it was, she would wait for her friend to come to her; she would not pry… for the time being.

With one last final thrust, Elizabeth felt Jason push her over the edge. Somewhere, in the back her mind, there was the vague realization that he was right there with her, spiraling out of control, but she was too lost in the bliss, in the ecstasy, in the earth shattering moment to really take notice. Instead, she allowed herself the opportunity to bask in her post-orgasmic glow as she collapsed on top of the heavily breathing, glistening man beneath her, curled into him, and practically purred in contentment when he wrapped a pair of strong arms around her, pulling her in even closer to his body. For the first time since he had kissed her that afternoon, the artist allowed her tired, sated form to relax, and, as the languidness of release settled upon her, her heavily lidded eyes dropped shut and she was able to relive every precious, lust inducing moment with Jason all over again.

Since it was Saturday, she had only worked half a day at the gallery, returning home early to paint and wait for Jason's arrival. Every week, he would take her out on Saturday afternoons, always to a different location, always to someplace original, always to someplace private. Although they spent time with each other during the weekdays as well, the weekends were explicitly for dates, and, unlike her previous relationships, as unorthodox and few in number as they were, Elizabeth allowed Jason to set the pace. Because of that reason, they had been seeing each other for over a month and had yet to sleep together… well, at least, not until that afternoon.

She had been lost in a painting, so consumed with her art she never heard him approach her studio, knock, or let himself in with the key she had given him when she didn't answer the door. He had walked up behind, slipped his arms around her waist, and softly kissed her neck, surprising her but not scaring her. After all, he never could. And, just like that, their relationship progressed to the next level. There was no awkwardness, no second guessing, and no doubts. Jason had simply entered her apartment and seduced her, and boy had she been willing prey.

Startling her from her thoughts, the doctor, who had obviously paid particular attention during his anatomy courses while in med school, shifted, realigning their bodies so that they were facing each other and resting on their sides, and, with the movement, she became very aware of the fact that their frames were still intimately connected. In fact, feeling him stir inside of her made every single nerve ending in her body tingle with anticipation and recognition. She could feel the hair on his legs tickling her own waxed limbs as his thighs wrapped around hers and pulled her hips even tighter against his own, she could feel the sinews and tendons of his corded arms sweep against her own feminine shoulders as he wound her body into his embrace and laced his hands together over the supple, sensitive skin of her delicately curved derrière, and she could feel his firm yet gentle, soft and yet still strong lips dance across her collar bone as he teasingly nipped and soothed her blush tinted porcelain skin. Every touch, every whisper of their bodies against each other was a finely polished, timeless, yearned for torture that Elizabeth had never experienced before until that moment. She had seen glimpses of it with men from her past, she had dreamed of one day finally experiencing it, but she had never imagined the fantasy being actualized with a very much married man, and, astonishing herself, she found that she didn't care that Jason had a wife and a daughter waiting for him at home. When they were alone together, when it was just the two of them in bed together in her tiny, little studio apartment, the rest of the world, including his family and his commitments, simply melted away.

Giggling in a voice that could only be described as post-coital low, the accountant was the first to break the silence that had been cocooning them. "See, I told you I'd be able to find ways to stay warm in this place."

Before responding, Jason kissed her, melding their mouths together and allowing his tongue to sip slowly, leisurely from the essence of her palate as he reveled in her taste. "Just make sure I'm the only one you invite over when you start to get chilly."

"And what if you're unavailable? What am I supposed to do if you're at work?"

"Then I guess you'll just have to start without me," he directed, grinning wickedly. "However, with that thought in mind, you might have a hard time, no pun intended, getting me to leave in the first place."

Snuggling even closer to him and sucking in a needy gasp of desire as her bare, aroused breasts rubbed intimately against his sculpted chest, Elizabeth teased, "would that really be such a bad thing?"

"No," he answered, withdrawing from her body only to render her speechless when he surged back up inside her, "that wouldn't be bad at all." Holding completely still inside of her, Jason pressed, "in fact, if I had my way, I'd see you much more than I do already. I'm sick of sneaking around, of only being able to spend time with you in secret. If nothing else, I want to be your friend in public and your lover in private."

At that moment, Elizabeth was feeling too much, experiencing too many emotions and sensations to respond, so, instead of the words she had prepared in her mind escaping her parted, swollen lips, the only thing she could offer the man inside of her was a moan, a moan of satisfaction, a moan of want, a moan of compliance and agreement as long as he somehow found a way to assuage the ache growing exponentially inside of her with every passing, fleeting second of time.

When he started moving again, slowing rocking his hips against hers, her dilated, desperate eyes snapped open and locked with his own need filled, mischievous gaze. "If I can think of a way for us to be together out in the open, will you go along with it," he asked, speeding up his thrusts. "Will you? Tell me you will, Elizabeth," Jason urged her.

"Yes," she finally screamed over and over again, her voice hoarse with completion.

She knew he had just manipulated her body, used her desire for him to get the answer he wanted, but, as she gut drunk off her orgasm, relishing both is sheer strength and potency, she didn't really care. The pleasure had been worth it, and, if nothing else, as she felt the man beside her reach his own climax, she realized that she did want to be a part of his life outside of the private world they had constructed around each other, consequences be damned.

It was a week later when Elizabeth stumbled into her apartment, her arms laden down with paint supplies, thick ledgers, and dinner, and noticed the blinking red light on her answering machine. When she pressed the button to listen to the message, she had not been prepared for just how much a one minute, one sided phone call was about to change her life. But, then again, she never really was prepared for those life altering moments, and, if she was, they wouldn't have the strength to knock her world upside down and inside out in the first place.

"Miss Webber, this is Doctor Alan Quartermaine, Chief of Staff here at General Hospital. I was calling to inquire about your level of interest in a new volunteer program we're going to be starting in the pediatric department. My son, Doctor Jason Quartermaine, is interested in offering his terminal patients weekly art classes as a means to both distract them from their illness and provide them with another mean to express themselves. According to my son, you're both an amazingly talented young artist and a woman with a kind, generous heart. If you're interested in helping us with this project, please contact me. I look forward to hearing from you, Miss Webber."

He had done what he said he was going to, and, though his plan was risky for, if she accepted the offer, they would be practically flaunting their relationship right under his family's nose, Elizabeth had a feeling the setup might just work, and, even if it didn't, even if they did get caught, at least they would be going down with all guns blazing. Besides, if nothing else, she loved a challenge, and what was more of a challenge than deceiving the most powerful, most influential, and most wealthy family in town? Nothing.

Picking up her cordless phone, she dropped her supplies onto the floor and sat down on her bed, reclining upon the sheets she had still not yet washed after her amazing afternoon the previous weekend with Jason. Even though she didn't want to think about the consequences of her actions, she could sleep better with his scent surrounding her, and she wasn't ready to give up that comfort yet by changing her bedding. Dialing the number that had been on her caller ID screen, she waited for the person on the other end to pick up, expecting a secretary.

"This is Doctor Alan Quartermaine. How may I help you?"

So the Chief of Staff had given her his private line. Interesting.

"Doctor Quartermaine, this is Elizabeth Webber calling."

"Alan, please," he requested of her.

"Alright then, Alan," the accountant agreed with an amused smirk on her face. If only he knew… "I just listened to your message, and I wanted to let you know right away that I am interested in your offer." Her smirk grew into a full fledged smile before she pressed. "In fact, I'm very, very interested."