Chapter Two: Lust at First Sight
Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, you make me smile! I have the Personnel Files, so I can stop badgering misunderstood beauty about it. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me; all of them belong to Kudos and the BBC
Spoilers: Well, most of Series 4, to be exact. We hardly see anything of Juliet in series 5 (Boo! Hiss!), so we weren't going to find out anything else about her.
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They had gotten a taxi, and had nipped off to lunch. The café was a small place, quiet and intimate. Small tables in the tiny corners of the room, with tablecloths edged in gold and a single white rose in a vase. It was the sort of place you would bring your wife for an anniversary lunch, not someone you had just met to bring them up to speed.
But that was exactly what Harry Pearce had done, and Juliet loved it. She noticed for the first time that he had a single gold stud in his ear, not easily noticeable. His hair was longish, down to the nape of his neck and thick like fur. It was brushed back off his face, but a few strands escaped to create a fringe effect. She kept staring at him: his chest, his eyes, his face.
He kept staring too; in fact, he couldn't keep his eyes off her. Juliet had carefully placed herself on her chair to stop any glimpse of underwear from showing. But, in his Oxford heyday, he had been extremely skilled at telling what women were wearing. Looking at her up and down while she was staring out the window, Harry could make out the outline of French panties. Black lace, he guessed.
Back at Thames House, he had snuck a quick peek at her file on Thomas' desk. Her education ranged from girl's schools all across Europe: Paris, Verona, Madrid, Brussels. She was refined; a very beautiful and sophisticated woman. But arryHaHarry had to be careful; he was falling into a trap. He was attracted to Juliet Shaw, and lust had a way of taking over a man.
"What would you like to drink?" Harry asked, his throat dry. She skimmed read the menu, barely reading the words. Her eyes couldn't focus properly.
"Water. Just water,"
"I'm sure we can do better than that. A glass of white wine for the lady and a 1898 Bordeaux for me please waiter," Harry requested, handing the young gentleman both wine lists.
"Bit extravagant. I thought this was a quick lunch to help me catch up with the officers on 5, not a date," Juliet quickly blushed as she said those words. Harry was about to reply when the waiter returned with the wine.
His eyes were not on the waiter. They were on her. He looked like some predatorily dangerous beast, waiting to pounce. And she found that extremely attractive.
"The lunch menu's sir," the waiter handed over the embroided pieces of paper and left them with a nod.
"Let's order lunch, and then shall we get back to business?" Harry asked, noticing that his hands were sweating. She kept biting her bottom lip, and he thought it was just about the sexiest thing he had ever seen.
"Yes lets,"
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They had ordered. They had talked. Not about anyone at 5 though, oh no. Juliet had talked about her father and her mother. Harry had talked about his time at university. The two spooks sat in the café for two and a half hours, just talking. Just watching the world go by.
"I thought that this was supposed to be a quick lunch," Juliet stated, looking at her silver watch.
Looking at his watch too, Harry was shocked to see how much time had passed. He found it so easy talking to her. More easier than Jane, Oliver or any of his family or friends. She had a beautiful voice, and he could hear her talk for hours on end.
They had ordered coffee, and their friendly (if somewhat clumsy) waiter was bringing it to them. He tripped over a small break in the carpet and the coffee went flying, all down Harry.
"I am so sorry sir,"
"Do you want to be used as target practice for the KGB, hmm?" Juliet yelled, quick as a wink. The poor mans face turned a sickly shade of white and rushed off back into the kitchens.
"Your poor shirt Harry," Juliet moaned, but Harry started to laugh. It matched him perfectly, dry and chucklsome. She adored it.
"I think you scared the poor man half to death," Harry exclaimed as the manager ran out.
"Your meal will be on the house. Did you really threaten the man with the KGB? He is only a student!" the manager asked, apologising furiously.
"That is not the point. Let's go Harry, get you changed into a new shirt," Juliet muttered under her breathe, trying to ignore the flips her stomach was doing as she took in Harry in a crumpled shirt. He looked good enough to eat.
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They travelled back to his house, Harry calling in to say that they would be back for the OMEGA meeting. His wife was at school, teaching her students English. He slipped in the key, and, ever the gentleman, let Juliet enter first.
Juliet remained in the sitting room, while Harry went upstairs to change into a fresh shirt. Looking around, she saw a photo of him and his wife Jane on the mantle piece. They looked happy, but she noticed that Mrs. Pearce was a bit of a frump, not at all sexy. Juliet, on the other hand, specialised in flaunting herself.
Finding the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of water as her throat was parched. On the fridge their was no paintings from a child's hand, no letters from school or pleasing pieces of work. Harry and Mrs. Pearce had no children, which meant he was susceptible to her flirting. She would never cheat on her husband, but she loved flirting to make sure she was still attractive to the opposite sex.
Taking a long sip, she heard a creak in the floor boards behind her. Whipping around sharply, she ran straight into Harry. And so did her glass. For the second time that day, his shirt was soaking. But this was not coffee, it was ice cold water that had covered the front shirt.
"Silly me," Juliet mumbled and she attempted to mop it up with a spare tea towel.
Instead, he clutched her hand and directed it down to the centre of his chest where most of the water had ended up. With his hand in hers, the towel made long and slow circle motions on his chest. Both were looking into the others eyes, and were breathing heavily.
Breaking his long gaze, Juliet turned to look at his sodden shirt. The fabric clung to him, outlining his chest. The muscles were taunt underneath her looks. She stroked down the shirt in the middle and fingered the edge of the material. Her hand made its way up again and was tracing the wet edges of his torso. His hand had moved and was stroking the soft skin underneath her shirt.
Slowly, she began to undo the buttons on his clinging shirt. Harry took an intake of breath as she ran her finger down his skin, following the water droplets down his chest. Placing both hands firmly on the two sides of his shirt, she lifted them up and pulled them down over his broad shoulders.
Harry leaned into kiss her when the front door opened about 15 yards behind them.
"Harry! I'm home!"
The wife was back.