Chapter 2

As he opened the door between his office and her desk, Della was still chuckling.

Leaning to the doorframe, Perry sighed before he started to speak. " Now, how was that for eavesdropping? Quite a modern way, don't you think? "

" Well, thank you for letting me join in the conversation. I'll type the outlines all out for you and then you can sign…" she picked up her notepad and read to him " ...she's my muse, my better half, the closest I'll ever be to heaven… And uhm …we're not married, because we don't need our love confirmed in any other way than our own. Oh, and …." she tilted her head, and smiled at him lovingly, "...you love me..."

" I do. " He smiled back at her and walked to her desk to sit down on the edge.

She sat back in her chair and watched him with smiling eyes. She noticed his soft gaze, and realised how much she loved this man, his humour, his devotion to his job and to her. " You were too hard on him…."

" No. I don't think so. " Perry rubbed his hands together. " He has to practise… He wants to learn. He says he wants to be as good as I am. So, he should be aware of how questions are asked properly and how important details can be. And, how important a good secretary can be. "

" Still. " She stood up to stand between his legs, and touched the lapels of his jacket. " And thank you. "

" For what? "

" For being you. I'm still finding out new things about you every day." She brought her hands to his face and kissed his lips lightly. " You know, you never stop to amaze me... it makes me feel priviliged. Makes me feel special. "

" You are special to me. You ought to know that by now…"

His eyes followed hers, as she caressed his face, and stroked his hair. Her loving look became more beautiful with every second he watched it.

He saw her banter coming, when she gazed down and pursed her lips. It made him smile in advance. She tilted her head in that typical way of hers, and narrowed her eyes. " I wouldn't have let you get through so easily though. "

" Oh? "

" I would really have wanted to know more when you said: don't go there…"

" Oh, really? "

" Mmm-mmm. " She pursed her lips again and fluttered her lashes. " I would have forced you to tell me all, and really all the details. Also the ones that don't seem very relevant at the time, but have to be remembered anyway, in case they turn out to be important, as some wise man once said... you know..."

" You would? And… what details? Crime scene, perpetrators? " He rest his hands on her hips.

" The juicy details of course. Wouldn't you want to know about them? "

" Personally, I would have taken you to the crimescene, and reconstructed that particular details with you, dear. "

She choked with laughter, and he held her against him. Her scent made him moan softly when he pulled her closer into his arms, and roamed his hands over her back down to her hips and further down to the swell of her bottom. As if by its own record, his left hand travelled up underneath her blouse and caressed the soft skin he found there. His touch made her melt, as it usually was the start of the loving magic that was still theirs, even now. Her kiss was lingering at first, slow, sensuous, nuzzling his face, but then she deepened it at his approving encouraging moan, and she tasted him, the touch of his beard so lightly tickling to her skin it aroused her. The circling movement of his skilful fingers on her back caused a shivering sensation. This prelude had taken place thousands of times, in and out of the office, yet the irresistance of it had never changed. Memories of their lovemaking in the office came to her as he reached the clasps of her bra. She felt him smile to her cheek, when he unclasped it with one hand, while the other rest at her waist.

" You're so contented with yourself about that, aren't you? " She said under her breath.

" Yes. I proudly admit I am. And I thank you deeply for allowing me to practise. "

" U-uh. As long as it's me you're practising on. "

" I wouldn't know about anyone else who would let me. "

" I can think of lots and lots of women who would want you to practise on them, Perry… And not just the unclasping of their bra..."

" Sure…" he shrugged.

" No, really. You know, you're wealthy, powerful, smart. " She trailed his jaw with her index finger. " You know how power attracts women…"

" So, if I were a poor, powerless man, you wouldn't want to be with me? "

She chuckled. " Well, I certainly wouldn't let you unclasp my bra with one hand. " She reached behind her back. " Speaking of which… "

" You want to fasten it? Let me help you, please... " She answered his mischievous stare, and he made sure she felt his fingers caressing her when he reached underneath her blouse again.

" You can't do that with one hand? " She feigned surprise.

" No. I really do need two hands to caress you. " His hands lingered underneath her arms towards the front of the fabric he had just clasped again, which made her moan. His lips brushed her neck in soft strokes, and she leaned in to kiss him deeply. " Let's go home…" she pushed her forehead to his, and whispered softly. " Your muse wants you…"

#$%

She left her purse and keys at the sidetable in their hallway, and he took off her coat. There was no need to speak, so they didn't. There was no need to switch on lights, and so they didn't. Forty years of knowing eachother's body and mind had made their sense of touch skilful into perfection. He held her from behind to nuzzle her neck, and left bitemarks, making her as weak in his arms as he knew she would be, then turned her in his embrace. He sought for her lips, kissed her almost violently, tasting her sweetness, dancing with her tongue while walking her slowly towards their bedroom. The clothing they lost on their way would be picked up by their smiling housekeeper tomorrowmorning, who at first had to get used to this proof of the passion her employers shared, but now merely hoped she could experience it too when she'd be their age.

He relished in the wonder of his Della, in hearing her whispers, her gasps, her moans, so deep they could be his, or maybe even were his. They had found a way to undress eachother without being disconnected from eachother's touch. The slow dance held no more secrets for them, just the joy of lust and the pleasure of love. Their hands knowing their ways, their perfect timing adjusted to their breathing. Though the feeling was forty years old, very familiair and maybe even oldfashioned, their growing need and arousel was still burning ferociously in new and unknown ways.

Somewhere in the middle of this ardor, just after taking off the last piece of fabric that was between him and her complete nakedness, he felt the urge to pause to watch her blushing face underneath him in the dim light. Her little protesting moan and slowly opening darkened eyes told him not to pause for too long, but he needed to whisper to her. " I love you and adore you, Della Street… " He grazed at the soft skin of her neck and groaned low to her ear, " ...and the more I see you, the more I want you. "

" Sounds like a nice song..., " she smiled softly.

" You want me to sing for you? "

" No. " She narrowed her eyes to him, and took his face in both hands. " I want you to shut up and make love to me. "

" That's my girl. " He captured her mouth completely to leave her breathless, sought for a comfortable position to do what he was ordered to do, and ravished her.