Thank you to two great writers and friends, make-mine-a-kiaora and Sue Shay, for their help. Be sure to check out their stories - I have favorited them in my profile for easy access.
Please be advised: this chapter contains adult situations, language, and innuendo. If such scenes make you uncomfortable, you may wish to skip to Chapter 5.
I do not own the TV show The Mentalist and get no compensation from it. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes only.
Chapter 4 - "Too Darn Hot"
Teresa Lisbon wondered what would happen tonight. Was she fearful? No, she'd dealt with the unknown in other cases. Still she felt uneasy.
The sun had set when she and her husband arrived with their son Charlie in tow at the River Manor Apartment building. Having given a speech to a third-grade class that afternoon, Teresa still wore her police uniform with navy slacks and royal blue blouse covered by a service jacket.
Patrick Jane had had a long day at Deverell College as well. He still wore his normal teaching garb - navy slacks, tweed jacket, and the new white turtleneck shirt she'd gotten him last week. And now he wore a freshly-shined pair of shoes thanks to her influence.
Teresa stole a look at her husband as they made their way down the dimly lit third floor hallway. Despite changing Charlie's diaper before they left home, despite giving two class lectures, despite spending "73 minutes in hell listening to a sleep-inducing windbag" at a faculty meeting, he looked as fresh as if he'd just stepped out of his morning shower. As he carried their son, Charlie reached his little arms around his father's neck to squeeze him tight. Patrick glanced over at Teresa and winked.
After knowing him all these years, whether she called him Archie Marbray or Patrick Jane or "Hubby," the man still made her heart skip a beat.
And especially when he was wearing his new white turtleneck shirt…
She put that thought on hold for the time being. They had reached Apartment 325. Teresa pressed the door bell, and a pair of feet shuffled on the other side. As the door swung open, Annabelle stopped its progress while she moved back a step. Once her bulging stomach was clear of the path of the door, she pulled it fully open. Teresa sighed inside at her own memories. She had to readjust so many things large and small when she was pregnant.
"Honey, the chief and the professor are here." Annabelle looked over her shoulder. Seeing no one, she shrugged. "Henry will be here in a minute. We've been getting everything ready for you."
Teresa scrunched her nose.
"You didn't have to do anything special for us."
"Henry's digging around the closet to get his old telescope for you."
Teresa smiled at Annabelle and shook her head. Then she called out.
"Henry, don't worry about your telescope. Archie and I brought our own surveillance gear with us."
What Teresa said prompted her husband to hand Charlie over to her.
"My dear, I'm going to the car to get our sleeping bags and binoculars." With that, he pivoted to scurry back downstairs.
"Sleeping bags, Chief?" Annabelle asked.
"We're going to put them on the floor in the kitchen by the window. Archie and I want ringside seats for the show tonight."
Soon enough her husband returned with a sleeping bag nestled under each arm and two optics cases dangling around his neck.
After Henry and Annabelle helped them get settled, the young couple headed for the door. The one "glitch" for the evening was that the cooling system was out. The stagnant air in the apartment hung over it like a shroud.
"Is there anything else you need, Chief?"
"I think we're all set, Annabelle."
Kissing Charlie on the forehead, Teresa handed her son over to Annabelle.
"We'll take good care of Charlie for you."
"I know you will. This'll be good practice for the two of you!"
Henry walked over and put his arm around Annabelle then spoke to the chief.
"I'm sorry about the air conditioning system. According to the apartment manager, it's out in the whole building. He got really testy on the phone; I must not have been the first tenant to complain."
"Thanks for checking, Henry. Don't worry about us. Archie and I will be fine. Speaking of my Hubby, where did he go?" Teresa had taken to calling him "Hubby" a lot. She had enough trouble reminding herself not to say "Patrick" in public.
"He's standing by the kitchen window looking out."
Teresa laughed.
"If he could will that object to show up, it'd be outside right now."
"No doubt, ma'am."
Annabelle tapped Teresa's elbow.
"I almost forgot. We left some snacks for you in the refrigerator."
"Thank you, Annabelle. You two run along and don't worry any more. We'll be fine."
With Charlie in Annabelle's arms, the young couple excused themselves and pulled the door shut. Now alone, Teresa surveyed the small apartment. It reminded her so much of where she lived when she was just starting out. Looking to the kitchen area, she spied her husband with their two sleeping bags. With care, he unzipped each one and spread them out flat across the floor. The two opened bags side-by-side gave the effect of a giant foamy picnic blanket, only it was indoors.
Joining her husband in the kitchen, Teresa took off her jacket and draped it over a chair. Then she and Patrick sat down on the sleeping bags to stare out the window. And stare. And stare…
Teresa drifted off to sleep, her head resting against her husband's shoulder. When he shifted, she awakened and raised up. Looking out the window, she saw only the dark sky.
"What time is it?"
"11pm, Teresa. You've slept for a while."
"I couldn't help it. This is the nicest stakeout I've ever been on."
"Henry told me that he and Annabelle waxed the floors, laundered the area rugs, everything. The whole place looks spotless and smells pristine."
"Obviously they don't have a child."
"Yet. Just think what this place will be like in a few months."
"Yeah, like our place." Teresa cast a glance around where they were sitting. "Still, this is the cleanest floor I've ever sat on."
Her husband put his arm around her.
"I never realized a floor could be so comfortable. And relaxing. These sleeping bags do the trick. Maybe we should do this at our house."
Rather than answer him, Teresa rolled her eyes.
"Do you think this stakeout is in vain?"
"From my own selfish standpoint, no, Teresa. If nothing else, it got us out of the house for some time alone, just you and me. You know I love Charlie and our lives together, and it's good to see the old gang again, but sometimes I miss you even when we're together in a room full of people."
"I feel the same way, Patrick."
He smiled.
"Ahh. 'Patrick,' not 'Archie.' I always like hearing that."
"And I always like the chance to say 'Patrick.'" Teresa stroked her husband's arm as she glanced at him. "Patrick, Patrick, Patrick."
"Yes, yes, yes, my dear." His eyes crinkled. "I'll also admit I much prefer hearing 'Patrick' from you than 'Jane.'"
"Why is that?"
"When you slip up and call me 'Jane', it means that I've done something to upset you. And most of the time you're right to be upset."
She arched her eyebrow.
"Most of the time?"
He sighed.
"Okay, all of the time." Patrick pulled Teresa closer to him. "I've gotten used to 'Archie Marbray,' but hearing 'Patrick' come from your lips always stirs my heart."
"Like you said, our life is so busy we've had precious little private time lately."
Patrick waggled his eyes at her.
"You know something we haven't done in a long time?"
It hadn't been that long ago, the night before, but Teresa decided to play along. She shifted her body so her hip rubbed against his thigh.
"What?"
Patrick waved his hand at their surroundings.
"Go on a stakeout together."
Oh. He wasn't thinking about that after all. Teresa raised up so she could look at him.
"Huh?"
Patrick's eyes met hers.
"That was my favorite time back at CBI," he said.
"Being on a stakeout? That's the most boring job in law enforcement."
"What mattered to me was being with you. Remember how we used to pass the time talking."
Memories from what seemed like another lifetime flooded Teresa's thoughts.
"I do, but I can't really recall anything in particular we talked about," she said.
"Me neither, but we were together. Just you and me. After I went into hiding, I used to dream about us on a stakeout."
Teresa chuckled.
"So your fantasy while we were apart was to go on another stakeout with me?" she asked.
"Fantasy? No, merely going on a stakeout with you was a dream. My fantasy was something more intimate while on a stakeout." Patrick fingered the collar on her uniform blouse.
"On a stakeout?"
"Why not? There's an illicit nature to it, isn't there? Two people who are supposed to be doing something else, something official…"
"But instead of keeping their eyes on the scene…"
"They focus on each other, looking at how the shadows cast their faces in a whole new light…"
Teresa reached over to stroke her husband's chin. At the same time, the slight movement made her realize how stuffy the apartment was. It dampened the amorous feelings that had stirred in her ever since she and Patrick had arrived.
"It's too darn hot," she said.
"Maybe I can make things better."
Patrick got to his feet, flicked the lever on the kitchen window, and opened it as far as it would go. The hint of a breeze wafted into the kitchen. Sitting back down, he looked at Teresa.
"It'll cool off in a bit. For now, why don't you relax some, take another nap? I'm not sleepy; I'll take the first watch," Patrick said.
Teresa leaned her head against his shoulder again, and the last two things she thought of before dropping off to slumber were the jasmine scent of her husband's cologne and the smooth texture of his shirt's fabric where she rested her cheek. She felt as if she'd drifted off into a little slice of heaven in his arms…
Patrick felt Teresa stir back awake. Relaxing his grip around her, he looked down at a pair of emerald eyes staring back at him. A sleepy smile curled around her lips.
"Did I miss anything?"
"Nothing more than crickets chirping, my dear. And with the window open, they're quite loud. Oh, you did miss an owl hooting about half-an-hour ago."
"Do you think all of this is in vain, Patrick?"
"From the standpoint of the case, maybe so. But to go back to our earlier conversation, I've enjoyed being on the stakeout with you."
"So now that we're parents this is what we have to look forward to for date nights?"
His eyes crinkled.
"You take advantage of what comes your way."
Teresa raised up but remained in Patrick's embrace.
"Do I remember our hosts saying they left some snacks for us?" she asked.
From the floor where they were sitting, Patrick reached for the refrigerator door, opened it, and grabbed a bowl. He lowered it into Teresa's lap. Looking at it, they found it brimmed over with grapes. Big, red, juicy seedless grapes.
"These look good."
He picked a grape off its stem and handed it to her. Putting it in her mouth, she chewed it slowly. A moan of pleasure escaped her.
"This is good. Try one."
Patrick did as Teresa told him. Biting down on the small piece of fruit, he tasted the sweet nectar squirt through his mouth. He let out his own hum of pleasure.
"These are delicious."
Teresa fully sat up. The night breeze coming through the open window, much more brisk now, blew across her face.
"It's cooled off quite a bit. It feels better, but it's still a little stuffy in here."
"Allow me to assist, my dear."
Patrick reached over to undo the top button of her blouse.
"That's better."
She winked at him.
He grabbed another grape and lifted it up. With a smile, she opened her mouth. He laid the grape gently on her tongue then watched as her lips closed around it and the tips of his fingers.
His breath caught.
"Sorry it isn't cooler in here."
"We'll manage. Have another grape, Hubby."
Teresa picked up another one but instead of lifting it to him, she tossed it into his mouth. He closed his eyes as he bit down.
"Hum! Have another yourself, Teresa."
He mimicked his wife and tossed a grape into her mouth. She snapped her lips closed, but in a moment reopened her mouth to reveal the grape balanced on her tongue. With a giggle, she shifted the grape to her teeth and bit down. All the while she never took her gaze from her husband.
His heart beat faster.
They began to take turns feeding grapes to each other, tossing them back and forth. Both took care in how they aimed. Once, Teresa's throw went wider than she meant, but he jerked his head to the side to snare it.
"Good catch, Patrick."
He held the grape between his front teeth while he stretched out a grin as best he could.
They kept up with their game until at last she missed one of his tosses. Bouncing off her cheek, the errant grape skittered across the floor. Teresa looked at Patrick.
"I should have done a better job of catching that."
"You tried your best, my dear."
"I just feel so confined." She reached up to her blouse and undid two more buttons.
His…ahem…manhood stirred.
In a few moments Patrick himself missed a grape. Silence hung between them as the grape rolled to a cabinet then bounced off it back to the middle of floor.
"I feel confined too." He shrugged out of his sport coat and tossed it across the back of a chair.
They returned to their game, although their aim - and ability to catch - got worse. When a grape bounced off Teresa's nose, she arched her eyebrows. Reaching to her blouse, she undid the rest of the buttons and twisted out of it. Without looking, she flung the blouse over to the chair.
"That's better. Now let's see what you can do, mister."
They resumed their tosses. Soon enough, Patrick missed one. He plucked the material on the sleeve of his turtleneck then looked at his wife.
"Well, as much as I like this new turtleneck, it's got to come off."
"Let me help you, Patrick."
Teresa reached over to pull the shirt out from where he had tucked it into his pants. Then she inched the shirt up his torso. Patrick felt her fingernails drift across his skin as it rose. When she reached his chest, her fingertips lingered, tracing circles across his skin. His breath shortened. Raising her eyebrows, she coaxed him to lift his arms so she could pull the shirt over his head. Once done, she tossed it so that it landed on top of her things.
"That's better," he said.
"Better?" Teresa asked. She leaned over to kiss his chest.
"The best."
"Not the best just yet." With another kiss on his chest that made him light-headed, she leaned back. "Let's play some more."
Soon enough, another grape went wide of Teresa's mouth.
"Take something off, my dear."
Teresa got a pouty look on her face.
"Not fair. Your throw went wide. You're just as guilty as I am."
"What should we do?"
"Maybe both of us are still too confined."
With that, Teresa stretched out across the sleeping bags. Bringing her hands to her uniform slacks, she fingered the belt until it slid open. Her gaze riveted on Patrick, she unzipped her slacks. That done, she wiggled out of them and flipped them aside.
She arched her eyebrow.
"Your move, Hubby."
Patrick needed no prompt. In seconds, his own pants hurtled through the air toward the chair. They almost made it, falling on the tile floor in front of one of the chair's wooden feet.
"Oops."
Teresa smirked.
"Huh. You couldn't keep it up long enough to accomplish the task."
"I do plenty well keeping things up."
She leaned over to stroke his beard.
"I guess you do. Some things anyway…"
"Damn straight I do."
Teresa ran gaze downward from Patrick's face.
"Speaking of things that are straight…"
When she looked back up, she barely had time to react to the grape streaking across the space between them. In a flash she opened her mouth and snared the fruit between her teeth.
"Bravo, my dear!"
The two of them embarked on frenzy of exchanges, each trying to get the better of the other.
"…almost. You nearly had me on that one…"
"…getting tired, old man? Cause if you are…"
"…oh, too bad, dear Teresa. If you'd only just anticipated…"
"…ha, ha; you didn't see that one coming, did you? What happened to your so-called powers of observation that you…"
"…Ha! Gotcha…"
Within ten minutes neither of them had stitch of clothes remaining on them. Together they looked over at the pile of garments resting on and around the chair.
"It seems neither of us has anything left to shed, Teresa." Patrick said while turning back to look at his wife.
"I guess that means we've got to be more careful with the grapes."
"Indeed."
Teresa picked up a grape and held it with her lips so it remained outside her mouth. She leaned over to Patrick. When their lips met, he felt her tongue push the grape into his mouth. Before she pulled back, her lips brushed across his in a soft motion.
"Success!" she said as she watched him eat the grape.
"Let me try." Patrick mimicked his wife's technique, only he let his lips linger on hers an extra moment.
He saw a frisky look on her face.
"My turn again."
Teresa moved her body forward. Her lips covered her husband's as they shared a deep kiss. When they finally pulled back to catch their breaths, Patrick panted out a few words.
"You forgot the grape, Teresa."
"Forgot? I knew exactly what I was doing, Patrick."
Clutching his wife close to him, he spun them around and down to the surface of the sleeping bags. Now their bodies touched each other from head to toe. Looking at his wife, he saw her smirk again.
"My, my, professor. Is that a lectern or are you just happy to see me?"
"What if I answered 'yes' to both those questions?"
"Then I'd say you're full of it."
"I am full, Teresa. Full of passion. For you."
"I can tell."
At times like this he sought to make up for all those years in Sacramento when they shared friendship but not passion. Just as he had with his first wife Angela long ago, Patrick dedicated himself to becoming a student of Teresa - learning her likes, her dislikes, and what drove her wild. His memory palace catalogued each and every fact he gleaned about her. On the subject of Teresa Lisbon, he applied himself as only a top student would - methodical yet inventive, focused yet fervent, loving yet lascivious.
Teresa brought both her hands to Patrick's head, running her fingers on one hand through his curly locks. With her other hand she stroked his beard as they smooched. Soon he moved his lips to the outline of her jaw. Taking his time, he kissed his way down the entire length of her body.
Patrick relished the shudders that his touches and kisses produced in Teresa. At times like this, she was more than his wife, more than the mother of their child, more than his soul mate. Something more primal drove him - she was the woman he wanted, the woman he needed to gratify.
That said, he still liked to have fun with her…
With a fluid motion, Patrick brought his face next to Teresa's again. Her eyes fluttered open and looked at him. Smirking himself, he spoke to her in a mock-whiny voice.
"So, Officer, was that okay? 'Cause… 'cause… I was trying really hard. Honest I was. When you fill out your report on me, could you…"
"Jane, you idiot. Shut up."
She tried to cut off his laughter by hurling him down on the sleeping bag and sitting atop him.
"Is this what they call police brutality, ma'am? 'Cause if it is, I wanna file a…"
"Jane, you idiot. Shut up."
She reached down to pin her husband's shoulders against the sleeping bag.
"Ma'am, if you're trying to get a confession out of me…"
"Jane, you idiot. Make love to me."
He needed no further invitation.
"With pleasure, ma'am."
As he watched her, she reached behind her head to undo the pin that held her hair in a tight knot. Once untethered, locks of her silky mane dropped across her shoulders. In one motion, Patrick pulled Teresa to him and flipped her over so he lay atop her. They gazed at each other until she broke the silence.
"Well what are you waiting for, Hubby?"
Indeed…
Much later, their passion now spent, Patrick sank to the floor. He pulled Teresa's body back to his. They lay still except for fingers that guided their lips together. Soon both fell into a stupor, sated and exhausted at the same time.
How long did they lay like that? Patrick lost his sense of where he was until he heard a noise outside. The cloud that shrouded his mind dispersed; his thoughts focused.
"The stakeout." Patrick spoke in a voice so thin it barely cut through the air.
"The stakeout?" Teresa asked in a question weighed down by torpor.
"The stakeout!" They shouted in unison as they sprang from the floor.
They crowded the window then recoiled in shock. Less than a meter away, an object pulsed flashing lights as it hovered. Whirring noises sounded from its underside.
Patrick recovered from his surprise before Teresa did. Hands on hips, he studied the object as he heard his wife scramble for her pistol. When she returned to his side, Patrick kept his focus on it but spoke to her.
"It's just outside the window. I can reach out and touch it."
"Yeah."
"And that's what I'm gonna do."
Patrick lunged forward, his upper torso moving through the window with his fingertips grasping at the object.
He heard Teresa scream behind him.
"No, Patrick, no!"
To be continued
Author's notes:
Cole Porter wrote the song "Too Darn Hot" in 1948. Ella Fitzgerald recorded my favorite version for her album, Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Songbook.
Next up: "Hell On Heels"
