Back in the living room Shannon voiced all the appropriate compliments about their rear landscape as Boone fished in their canvas bag for his notebook. The most recent in a long line of all purpose catchalls, the green fabric sack contained the essentials for all three of them. He pulled the black, hard covered, composition book out and detached the Mont Blanc from the spine, opening the tome to the first available blank page he started writing furiously.
After about five minutes, the distraction of the idle conversation annoying him and disturbing his concentration, he stood and wandered out of the room.
Shannon watched his departure with an amused expression, then, noticing the puzzled looks on the others' faces, apologized for him. "I'm sorry; he doesn't mean to be rude. Believe me, if you knew Boone, you'd know he'd be horrified if you thought he was being rude. It's just…" she stopped to consider for a moment. "Since we started the company it's like he's suddenly tapped into the wealth of ideas that have been stockpiling in his head for the past thirty-two years, just waiting for him." In fact it was like someone had given him the key to the secret garden of his imagination and he couldn't get enough of the heady scent of the blooms that grew within. "When we were kids, he never played cars or GI Joes or anything; it was all school and sports," she hated her step mother all over again as she relayed this. "The only creative outlets he was allowed were essays and school projects." She shrugged remembering his senior year in high school fondly, "I made him take dance lessons once, but even that he reduced to an analysis of patterns and progressions. I think he might have even written a paper on it," she laughed bitterly. "So it's really exciting to see him like this. Sometimes I wake up at night and he's sitting hunched by the window writing in his book by moon light." Her thoughts turned inward and a private smile graced her lips, Andrew unconsciously mirroring her look. The two remained like that for a few seconds, lost in their shared love for Boone. "Sorry," she shook it off, "I don't mean to make him sound like such a weirdo."
They all assured her that she hadn't. "Hey, if he's writing down ideas for our wedding reception, he can be gone the whole evening if he wants." Alicia added.
Shannon reached for another shrimp, then realized that there were only two used plates on the table; hers' and Andrews', Boone hadn't taken anything. They'd been doing a lot better at getting him to eat properly and his moods had evened out quite a bit in response to their careful monitoring, but she knew he'd only grabbed a few crackers and some chicken at lunch in anticipation of their evening. She took another plate and carefully selected some items she was sure he couldn't resist. Frank watched with interest as she handed the plate to Andrew without instruction, silent or otherwise, and he rose, grabbing a napkin and Boone's water glass before leaving the room.
He found his dad just on the other side of the wall, sitting on the stairs that lead to the upper floor, writing industriously.
"Boone?" He attempted. Getting no reaction he tried again, 'Boone?'
At the silent entreaty his head raised and he smiled. "Hey."
Andrew held out the plate and glass. Boone took them and put them down at his side immediately, "Thanks."
Andrew stood and watched for a few seconds, waiting for him to eat or drink, when he didn't, returning instead to scribbling in his book, Andrew spoke up. "Shannon said you're to eat everything on that plate," he lied, though it wasn't much of a stretch, he knew full well she would have.
Boone's head jerked up, "Oh." He put his pen down and took something off the plate and popped it into his mouth, then started searching for something, frowning slightly.
Andrew clued in and pulled the napkin out of his pocket and handed it over.
Boone took it, smiling, "Thanks," he repeated, wiping his fingers then reaching for the glass and taking a sip. His eyes had already returned to his penned words as he went to put the glass back down.
Andrew watched anxiously, ready to step forward and rescue the vessel should Boone place it precariously near the front of the tread, know how devastated his dad would be if the container tumbled down the steps and broke on the marble floor of the foyer. To his relief, Boone set it down well back on the tread, close to the riser.
Confident that Boone was gong to follow the instruction he'd implied came from Shannon, he returned to the ongoing chit-chat in the living room.
Twenty minutes after Boone's departure, Shannon suddenly became aware of just how much she was longing for his return, she didn't like that she was missing him to the degree that she was, but couldn't deny it. They worked together, but the different nature of their two roles in the business actually kept them apart from each other even more than when they'd had the store, so they cherished every moment of the reduced number of hours they spent in each others' company fervently, the limitations increasing the intensity of their interaction. Even the time spent arguing was relished, in their own obscure fashion. Sometimes she felt like they were a pair of old souls, destined to be together for eternity, this incarnation just the most recent in a long progression of different lives spent together. Feeling his absence like a physical ache, not bearing to be apart from him for a moment longer, she stood abruptly, "Your bathroom? I need to use your bathroom."
Receiving directions from Frank and getting an unimpressed and knowing raised eyebrow and accompanying eye roll from Andrew, she shot her son a disdainful glare and left the room.
Boone was still sitting on the steps, the plate empty and a page and a half of notes freshly written.
"Boone?" He looked up immediately, the urgency in her tone unmistakeable.
"What?" His eyes narrowed, she was up to something, he thought.
"I have to go to the bathroom," she informed him.
"Ooookay…" He figured she was old enough to do that on her own.
"Come with me." Shannon held her hand out.
"I'm not getting involved in some girl style gang pee!" He refused.
"No's not an option, Boone. I said come with me." She repeated more forcefully.
Heaving a beleaguered sigh, he took her hand and rose, collecting his plate and glass from their position on the steps, not wanting some poor unsuspecting person to stumble over them if they wanted to use the stairs. He put them, along with his notebook, on the hall table, careful to put the glass on the plate so it wouldn't leave a ring, and allowed himself to be led further into the house.
Finding the powder room easily from the directions she'd been given, Shannon pushed him inside then closed the door, turning to face into the room, fumbling behind her back to engage the lock.
Boone took one look at her face and instantly knew exactly what she had planned.
Eyes wide in astonishment, though really he should have been used to her outrageous behaviour by now, he protested. "No, no, no fucking way. No Shannon."
She kept herself between Boone and the door to prevent him from bolting, "Oh yes, Boone." She gave him a seductive look and then pushed him up against the far wall.
As she searched his face, her eyes glazed with want and need, lips parted, he felt his resolve weakening, though he realized the absolute insanity of what was inevitably going to happen. "No," he repeated a little weakly, voice cracking. "This is the home of a client, we can't…"
"We're here as guests, Boone, so I'd say it's more the home of a friend."
Her left hand crept into to his hair while the feel of her breath on his neck electrified him. When her tongue played at his ear lobe and her lips drew it in he was all but lost. With her right hand she reached under her short skirt and tugged her underwear down, sending the scrap of fabric to the floor and stepping out of them.
He made one last futile attempt and pushed her away. She noted with satisfaction that his face was flushed, his breathing fast, he swallowed quickly a few times. "All right, so a friend," his brain ground to a halt as she lifted the hem of the front of the skirt, giving him a unobstructed view, then slipped up to sit on the edge of the vanity. "Uhhhh," he stared, his eyes hooded, his mouth hanging open a bit.
She reached out and hooked his belt, jerking him to stand between her legs, and quickly sent his jeans and boxers to pool around his ankles. She kissed him, deeply, passionately, their first kiss since entering the small room and grasped him by the hips, attempting to pull him into her. Boone, however, had other ideas.
The variety of sex that he enjoyed never failed to amaze and amuse Shannon. There was never anything outrageously kinky, or the slightest bit frightening in what he wanted to try, but she'd always imagined him as a strictly missionary position, lights off, blankets pulled up kind of lover, he just seemed so straight laced, conservative and buttoned down. Her preconception couldn't have been farther from the truth. That she was now the beneficiary of his unabashed inventiveness and lack of inhibition delighted her.
He yanked her from her perch and spun her, hooking his left arm completely under her hips, he lifted her, sliding unerringly into her waiting warmth. He accomplished the entire motion so smoothly and quickly that it was done before she barely even had time to register that she was moving. She gasped as the suddenness of it, noting the surprised look in her eyes as she was faced with their reflection in the full sized mirror mounted over the sink. She'd already braced herself on her forearms, instinctively, when he'd elevated her feet from contact with the floor. Feeling him moving inside her, she dropped her head, stopping just short of braining herself on the faucet. He stopped all motion immediately.
"Watch," he demanded his voice tight and strangled.
Her head came up as her eyes took in their image again, he resumed his thrusts.
From Shannon's angle they were both fully dressed, the fact that they were both naked from the waist down hidden by her elevated shoulders, heightening the erotic nature of the experience. Only Boone, if he looked down, could see the truth of the state of their undress, but he didn't lower his head or even his gaze, his eyes remained locked with hers. He slid his free hand around to touch her.
At the contact she was swept away by the sensation and dipped her head again. Once more Boone ceased moving.
'I told you to watch,' his unspoken words echoed in her head, as he opened his mind to her, sharing his overwhelming arousal and the degree of self control he was exerting over his body at his forced stillness.
She raised her eyes again in obedience and in response he immediately resumed.
They finished quickly after that, their strangled cries muffled as well as they could manage.
"You're a fucking lunatic, you know that right?" Boone stated when he could. Reaching for some tissues from the box on the toilet tank, he pressed them against her as he withdrew, wanting to minimize the mess.
"You love it though," she shifted her hand over his, taking the sodden mass as he stepped back to pull up his pants. "Remember just why you love me Boone. I live life on the edge, while you meander up the middle. Every now and then I pull you to the precipice and give you a look into the chasm. It reminds you that you're alive."
The look he gave her reinforced the truth in her words, though her little speech left him wondering if she'd been trapped in some doctors office waiting room somewhere, no choice in literature except a wealth of Readers Digest "Increase Your Word Power" articles. The vocabulary she'd used was a little more flowery than usual.
She went to throw the wad of paper in her hand into the garbage but he stopped her.
"Are you nuts? Someone could find that!" She figured the chance of someone rooting around in the trash was pretty slim, but didn't protest as he took it from her and put it in the toilet instead. He flushed it, then watched carefully to be sure that the unit didn't plug and over flow, just trying to imagine what explanation he could possibly concoct in that eventuality.
Shannon retrieved her underwear from the far corner as he fogged the bathroom with enough air freshener to rival a dispersal of Agent Orange.
She coughed and batted at the sickly sweet cloud. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I don't want it to smell like sex in here," he kept his finger on the nozzle.
She snatched it from his hand. "Right….so now it smells like someone fucked in a gardenia patch. Christ you're a moron."
"It's probably not going to make a difference anyway. They'll see the guilt on our faces," Boone muttered. When Shannon quirked an eyebrow and laughed, "Okay then just on my face," he added, rolling his eyes.
As she opened the door, he grasped her hand and dragged her to several of the adjacent rooms in quick succession, pausing briefly in each to sweep his eyes over the interior. Seeming satisfied, of what she didn't know, he led them back to the front foyer, retrieving his earlier abandoned items from the hall table.