BD19
Disclaimers: May the execs at TNT be tied to a chair and forced to watch 'The Smurfs'. Oh wait, what am I saying? That's probably their idea of quality programming.
Ian awoke to find himself alone. He felt oddly disappointed by the fact, considering he always awakened this way. He wished Moira had remained beside him, and wondered why she hadn't. Only the scent of her remained on the bed and his body, barely discernable under the stronger aromas of sex and hot wax. He took a moment to breathe it in, imprinting it forever on his memory.
The candles had not burned down very far, so he must not have been asleep long. Maybe an hour at most, he surmised as he sat up. He felt more alert than he expected to, given the amount of alcohol he had consumed, and the brief period of exhausted sleep he had enjoyed.
He was not sure what had wakened him, but he could hear voices in the hall. Moira had said this was not her apartment, so the owner must have returned unexpectedly. He could barely make out their discussion, but what he heard was enough.
It was what she didn't say that made him realize the repercussions of their time together, if they were caught. He had completely forgotten, in his alcohol-induced haze, that they could be court-martialed for being together. At the very least, they would pull her off the project and put a reprimand in her file, a reprimand that would cost her any chance at promotion.
Mr. Irons would be informed of his transgression as well, and there was no telling how severe his punishment would be, or what form it would take. His master might very well punish Moira for her part. The thought of her suffering pierced him through the heart.
As much as he would like to remain in bed until Moira returned, he knew that was no longer an option. The sheet slithered to the floor as he stood up, joining the coverlet in an untidy puddle at the foot of the bed.
One of the dresser drawers was half open, as if Moira had hurried to throw something on and greet them. He looked inside the drawer and saw t- shirts and sweats, and a couple pair of b.d.u. pants. Since he didn't know the size of the person who's clothing it was, and didn't think he had time to change twice, he regretfully passed up the b.d.u. pants and pulled on the sweats.
With the t-shirt in hand, he turned and blew out the candles. The obvious smell and resultant smoke caused him to open a window. The wet spot in the bed could be excused by leaving his towel over it. The owner would doubtless assume the sheets had absorbed the moisture from the towel.
The doorknob made a slight rattling sound as it was turned. Out of time, he jerked the cotton top over his head just in time to hear Moira say 'No, wait.' He plopped back down on the bed and feigned sleep, not knowing what else he could do.
Disclaimers: May the execs at TNT be tied to a chair and forced to watch 'The Smurfs'. Oh wait, what am I saying? That's probably their idea of quality programming.
Ian awoke to find himself alone. He felt oddly disappointed by the fact, considering he always awakened this way. He wished Moira had remained beside him, and wondered why she hadn't. Only the scent of her remained on the bed and his body, barely discernable under the stronger aromas of sex and hot wax. He took a moment to breathe it in, imprinting it forever on his memory.
The candles had not burned down very far, so he must not have been asleep long. Maybe an hour at most, he surmised as he sat up. He felt more alert than he expected to, given the amount of alcohol he had consumed, and the brief period of exhausted sleep he had enjoyed.
He was not sure what had wakened him, but he could hear voices in the hall. Moira had said this was not her apartment, so the owner must have returned unexpectedly. He could barely make out their discussion, but what he heard was enough.
It was what she didn't say that made him realize the repercussions of their time together, if they were caught. He had completely forgotten, in his alcohol-induced haze, that they could be court-martialed for being together. At the very least, they would pull her off the project and put a reprimand in her file, a reprimand that would cost her any chance at promotion.
Mr. Irons would be informed of his transgression as well, and there was no telling how severe his punishment would be, or what form it would take. His master might very well punish Moira for her part. The thought of her suffering pierced him through the heart.
As much as he would like to remain in bed until Moira returned, he knew that was no longer an option. The sheet slithered to the floor as he stood up, joining the coverlet in an untidy puddle at the foot of the bed.
One of the dresser drawers was half open, as if Moira had hurried to throw something on and greet them. He looked inside the drawer and saw t- shirts and sweats, and a couple pair of b.d.u. pants. Since he didn't know the size of the person who's clothing it was, and didn't think he had time to change twice, he regretfully passed up the b.d.u. pants and pulled on the sweats.
With the t-shirt in hand, he turned and blew out the candles. The obvious smell and resultant smoke caused him to open a window. The wet spot in the bed could be excused by leaving his towel over it. The owner would doubtless assume the sheets had absorbed the moisture from the towel.
The doorknob made a slight rattling sound as it was turned. Out of time, he jerked the cotton top over his head just in time to hear Moira say 'No, wait.' He plopped back down on the bed and feigned sleep, not knowing what else he could do.