Chapter 8
It's dark by the time Thunderbird 1 arrives home. As I watch through the window she appears like a comet in the distance, the glow from her thrusters streaking a steady trail across the night sky. The swimming pool slides open and in moments she is hovering overhead with her huge engines thrumming. Scott puts her thrusters into reverse and she angles slowly like a graceful ballerina until her nose is pointing at the heavens. I watch as she descends, lighting up the entire patio area before she disappears beneath the pool to land safely on her mechanised platform. The pool immediately begins to close over and in moments all evidence of the great silver rocket plane is gone. If you didn't know better, you would think that you had dreamed the whole thing.
I'm so eager to see Scott. I'm almost jumping with excitement as he appears from behind his secret wall panel. He has taken off his silver heat suit but he is still in his International Rescue uniform with the light blue sash. He looks tired. His face is dirty, streaked with sweat and grime. He smells like a pile of burning tyres. "That was a nightmare," he declares.
"You did well, son. Welcome home."
"Thanks dad. I'm glad to be home. Hey, Tin-Tin. You sure are a sight for sore eyes." He smiles at me warmly, then rubs his face with both hands and rakes his fingers through his hair, standing for a moment with his hands laced together behind his neck, flexing his arms and shoulders. "I feel like the guy who stands at the bottom of an inverted human pyramid."
I laugh. "You're such a drama queen, Scott Tracy."
"Okay son, go and get cleaned up," his father smiles. "Have a well-earned rest. I'll call you when I need you."
"Sure dad, thanks. I'll see you later."
"So, what was it like?" I start following Scott through the house. "Was it really bad?"
"It was the worst barbecue I've ever been invited to."
I whack him on the arm. "No, seriously."
"It was hell, Tin-Tin. It was searingly hot and nasty and the cave was dark and stank like a cesspit. There was ash and soot and smoke and grown men trying to climb over little kids to get out. If we hadn't turned up when we did, there'd be a whole heap of dead bodies in there by now."
I wince. "I'm sorry I asked."
"It's over now, anyway. Thank God we got them all out. I wish them all the best luck in the world, but right now all I want to do is to get out of this dirty uniform and stand under some cool running water."
We reach the door of his room. Suddenly I'm embarrassed. "Well, I suppose I'd better leave you to it then," I say breezily.
He turns to activate his door panel, then stops and looks at me. He looks at me properly. I can feel myself starting to blush under his calm, blue-eyed gaze.. "You know, Tin-Tin," he muses, "I don't know if I should say this in case you think I'm being slushy, but without you, this place would be mighty dull."
"I don't know how you can say it would be dull, the exciting lives you lead."
"I'm not talking about that. I mean, you brighten up the place. Like a rose in the middle of a desert."
"That's very poetic." The blush reaches my ears.
"Aw, well...it's probably just the day I've had. I'm in the mood for some sweet talk."
"Well it's very kind of you to say it. Thank you, Scott. The place would be mighty dull without you, too."
He grins. How I love those dimples. "I guess I'd better go and take that shower, then," he says.
"Yes, I suppose you should," I reply. "You do smell a bit crispy."
Scott laughs out loud. "Thanks, Tin-Tin! That's the last time I pay you a compliment." He opens his door and goes through. I stand there on the threshold, knowing I should leave, but my feet are rooted to the spot. He turns and sees me still standing there. He looks straight at me, a quizzical look on his face. I don't know what comes over me, but as his door starts to slide shut I dart forward and into his room as though I've been pushed by an invisible hand.
"Okay," he says slowly. "Now I am intrigued."
"Do you want me to go?" I ask, nervously.
"Well, I don't know what you're going to do if you stay. I guess you could play on the computer or watch TV or something. The remote's around here somewhere, but..." He searches unsuccessfully for a few moments, then gives up.
I look around his room. He has bookshelves crammed with books. There's a wall-mounted television and a running machine that he seems to be using as a second place to hang his clothes. There's a desk with his computer on it and piles of paperwork and ring binders and other office paraphernalia. There are various plants that he does his best to nurture with John's help, although Scott is not naturally green-fingered. There are framed photos of his Air Force days on the walls, and of course there's a bed. A big king-size bed with rumpled covers, which I try very hard not to look at.
"Your room's a mess." It's all I can think of to say.
"Thanks, Tin-Tin. I prefer to call it the lived-in look."
"I prefer to call it a mess."
He begins unbuckling his blue sash. I try not to look, but I do. He removes the sash and puts it on the bed. All the while he's still looking at me, amusement tilting the corners of his lips.
"Maybe I should go after all," I say. "I mean, if you're going to be taking your clothes off."
He runs his hand over the back of his head. "Isn't that what you do when you take a shower?" He smiles. "Of course, there could be a perfectly innocent reason why you would be standing in my room watching me undress."
Our eyes meet and hold. My heart is hammering. I look down at his dirty boots. He watches me, his blue eyes quizzical. "Is there?" he says.
"Is there what?"
"Is there a perfectly innocent reason why you'd be standing in my room watching me undress?"
"You're not undressing."
"I will be. Any minute. I'm trying to take a shower, remember?"
"Oh, yes. Um..." Still my feet won't move. Am I a complete idiot? "Well, I suppose I'd better go then."
"Whatever, Tin-Tin, stay or go, but I really need to get out of this dirty uniform."
I look up at him. He's standing there with his arms folded across his chest. It's now or never.
"Do you want me to go?" I ask in a tiny voice that sounds like it's coming from far away.
"Tin-Tin," he sighs, " you can stay, you can go, you can stand with one foot in and one foot out. But any second now I'm going to start taking off my clothes. You can watch if you want or you can look in the other direction, but either way, it's happening."
Something propels me forward. His eyes widen as I move close to him, and he actually takes a step backwards. This isn't like any other time we've stood together, and Scott recognises this instantly. I put my hands on his chest and look up into his face. I have never seen him look quite this surprised, as though he is suddenly unsure of himself and his surroundings. Immediately I regret my rash stupidity, but it's too late to back away now.
"I don't want to go," I whisper.
He stares down at me. He puts his hands on my shoulders, but his face is kind.
"Tin-Tin," he says."What are you doing?"
"What do you think I'm doing?" I press a little closer. "I'm...giving you a hug."
He looks down at my head resting on his chest. I slip my arms around him and hold him as gently as I can.
"Tin-Tin," he says softly. I swear his voice catches.
"You could have died in that fire," I tell him. "I...we were so worried."
"Honey, I was completely safe. We do this all the time, remember? I was in no more danger than Virgil or Alan." It takes me a moment to realise he is stroking my hair.
I lift my head, look straight into his eyes. "Then tell me to go, Scott. Tell me to go."
His eyes soften. He searches my face with a practised gaze. I don't know what he is looking for, but I know what I want him to find.
He finds it. He finds my aching need for him, hidden somewhere behind my eyes where only a man like he would know to look.
He breathes out audibly.
"Oh, Tin-Tin," he says at last, pulling my head to his chest. "I was waiting for something like this to happen. I just don't want you to get hurt."
"How could you hurt me, Scott?" I mumble, my lips against his uniform. "How?"
"Baby, in so many ways. These things...they just happen."
I'm almost beside myself at his closeness, his voice, his arms around me.
"But this is hurting me, Scott." I whisper. "Seeing you every day, and not knowing how to get your attention. Every time you flirt with me, every little teasing comment you make leaves me in agony because I want to get closer but I can't."
"Oh, Tin-Tin, Tin-Tin." He breaks off, exhales a deep breath. "You of all people don't deserve it."
"Deserve what? The Scott Tracy Treatment? I don't believe half of what I hear. You're not like that. I know you're not."
"Honey, whatever you've heard, I'll tell you the truth. Half the time I don't even stick around for breakfast."
I hold him tighter. "You don't need to, Scott. You come home here for breakfast."
I lift my face and put my lips on his neck. His skin is salty and rough with dirt. He smells smoky, charred. I breathe in deep and inhale the scent of him, then blow it out hot against his ear.
"Tin-Tin," he breathes, hoarsely. "Please don't do this to me."
"But you like it," I answer, "I know you do. I wouldn't be in your room if you didn't."
I put my tongue out and taste him, licking him under the jaw. I can feel him beginning to weaken. His fingers dig deep into my shoulder blades. I nuzzle him under his ear, rubbing my lips against the roughness of his skin. In spite of himself, he tilts his head back and lets me kiss his throat. He moans softly. I move my hips against him and run my hands down his thighs. He grips the back of my head and pulls me away. His eyes are fathomless and unfocussed. I put my hands on his chest and clutch at the fabric of his uniform. He stares at me- he still seems unsure, but I know his resolve is crumbling.
He looks at me for what seems like forever. This time I don't look away- I gaze deep into his eyes.
"Tin-Tin," he says softly, "You know I'd never knowingly do anything to hurt you. You're way too special to me for that."
"I know you wouldn't, Scott. I know you wouldn't."
He hesitates for a moment that threatens to stretch into infinity. He puts his face so close to mine that our noses are almost touching. His breath is warm on my lips. His eyes are dark and half-closed. Still, he hesitates. And then at last, at long last, his mouth touches mine and he kisses me.
He sends me into rapture. I wrap myself around him and moan against his lips. A million tiny fireworks go off inside me. I'm sinking, drowning, soaring and flying. I'm no longer a body but a trembling mass of pure sensation. As his mouth moves over mine, softly at first, then harder, I taste salt and sweat and smoke. I grasp at him hungrily, my hands on the back of his neck and in his hair and over his shoulders. He pulls me into a strong embrace, his hands pulling and pushing, tugging at my clothes, doing all manner of wonderful things to me. He pulls me backwards, swings me around, and in moments we are on the bed. He kisses and caresses me and presses me down with his hips, grinding them into me, his mouth still clamped firmly to mine. I wriggle helplessly beneath him, shocked at his ardour, pushing my hips upwards, straining against him, so giddy with desire I could burst. He licks at the skin of my neck, bites me with his teeth, whispers my name in my ear, over and over and over.
Tin-Tin, Tin-Tin, Tin-Tin. His passion is a force to be reckoned with. It is more than even I expected. He is consuming me like a flame. He is burning me up. His hands are all over me, and mine are on him. His mouth is hot, his kiss almost brutal.
And then, like a light going out, he stops dead.
He recoils from me like a magnet repelled, staggering upright, stricken. "Tin-Tin," he utters. "Go."
"What? But, Scott..." I stare at him in despair. Embarrassed, I start tugging my clothes straight, pulling my skirt down my thighs. He looks, and then looks away fast.
"Go, Tin-Tin, now. Before I get us both into trouble."
"But Scott...!" He cuts me dead with a look.
"Tin-Tin, don't argue. I said go."
His tone is authoritative. He means it, and there's no way around it. He wants me to go, so I go. Shaken, I drag myself to my feet and run from his room, filthy from sooty caresses, on legs that feel like two crumbling pillars of sand.