Author's note: I don't own any of the characters – they belong to Elizabeth George and the BBC.
*The lyrics in this chapter are written by Larry Clinton for Tommy Dorsey in the 1930s. I don't own them.
Review and comment, but please keep in mind that I'm no native speaker. Thanks!
I highly recommend reading the second chapter of "Nothing, Sir" first, written by Lil'Dutchy in 2010. That story inspired me for mine. Again thanks to Lil'Dutchy for the story and the inspiration.
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Once again he watched her looking in her glass and he raised a questioning eyebrow. He did it automatically and every time when that woman on the other side of the table has one of her strange ideas or in moments like this when she tried to fool him. But he desided not to ask any further.
"One more?" he asked instead.
He would love to sit here a little bit longer having some pints and a good conversation with Barbara. Or just look at her. But he knew this only would lead to a tiddly mind and too many more drinks later on when he is alone at home, trying to cope with being in a complete turmoil.
"nah, better stop and go home." she said with a lopsided grin. "Got loads of work to do tomorrow." Her grimace said that there must be something more. But like usual he didn't dare to ask.
He nodded. "Can I give you a ride?"
Oh, hell, what was he saying? He cursed inwardly. Apparently she didn't miss the unintentional double meaning in his words because in an instant her face reddened. He acted as if he didn't see it. After hiding her face in the glass downing the last remainders of her beer she agreed that he takes her home. Mind your words, Lynley. Don't get yourself in trouble! Even if some part of him had its own opinion of that.
He stood up, got his jacket and helped her in her coat. By doing so he touched her shoulders. It was not totally by accident, he admitted to himself. And he let his hand linger a split second longer than necessary right beside her earlobe. He sometimes touched her pretending it was without any meanings. Fingers skimmed when he handed her a file, shoulders closed when both bent over a corpse. He wondered if she was aware of that. Sometimes he had thought he saw a reaction in her eyes or moves but he dared not to interpret that.
"Thank you!" she said. He returned to the present and brought his gentleman's behaviours back to mind. He remembered that he once had been an arrogant arsehole against his DS. He even let her carry his bags like she had been his servant. It took him some years to completely realize that she was a true equal partner. An equal partner on duty as well as the best friend he probably had. She never lost faith in him even through his worst times.
He kept the doors open for her and followed her out of the pub. There was cool fresh air outside and he deeply breathed. He wished that a lung full of fresh air would change that improper mood he was in. There was his car, not too far away – no chance to accidentally hold hands. Indeed he was not at all surprised at his thoughts because they've been wandering these zigzagways for quite some time now. They switched between wanting her deeply and self-punishing for that, between those accidental contacts and the fear that she might… Might what, Lynley, reprimand you? She didn't yet, did she?
Before he might have been after all slid in the situation to hold hands with Barbara they reached the car. He opened the door, closed it behind her and seated himself on the driver's seat. She turned on the radio. It crackled very loud.
"When will you put a CD-player in that old car?" she asked. A well known swingsong dripped off the speakers. Oh, dare…
…the dipsy doodle is easy to find
It's almost always in the back of your mind
You never know it, until it's too late
And then you're in such a terrible state…*
"It is no old car it is a classic car…" he stated, somewhat irritated by that song.
"…an expensive old car…" She said it with a broad grin. He liked the way they always chatter about his loved classic car. He had no doubt that despite her slandering she also had a thing for that beautiful automobile.
He slightly leaned over in her direction, fixed her and reasserted "…classic car! And this is the original radio and I will never exchange it for one of those newfangled digital sorcery!" He couldn't help grinning at Barbara.
He thought she wanted to say something because she deeply inhaled but she just kept their grinning eyecontact. He felt a little uncomfortable when the moment stretched but he was captured by her eyes. I could close the distance now and kiss her! His smile slowly dropped. When hers was dropping too he suddenly lost self-confidence.
Then she broke eye contact and turned her face to the front window so he was glad that he didn't try to kiss her. From her reaction he concluded that his mood had to be a single-sided feeling. He wasn't sure about himself anymore.
"Go ahead, start the engine, maybe I'm getting home before midnight if you kick your steam car!" He had to chuckle. Did she realise that nearly every word is suggestive? Relapsing he thought that the situation indeed was very flirtatious and he returned to enjoying it.
He started the engine and moved off.
Since all lights were green for about ten minutes of their drive – which is a rare phenomenon in the city of London – his mind had its time to continue spinning around. He was intensively aware of her knee next to his left hand on the gearstick. It was just a few inches away and it would have been so easy to touch it, to graze her knee with his fingertips. To scuttle his fingers up her thigh. He could have clutched it tight. Oh, Lord, what would she think of you! There was no mistake that she must have demanded him to stop and let her take a taxi home. He could imagine her saying it with her lovely accent and her own original kind of rudeness which he loved so much. But this also was one sign of their difference, he had to admit. Barabara must have felt so out of place once at Howenstow although his mother and Judith both reassured him, that they liked her and she would always be welcome.
He never told her that. He was afraid to scare her away. His redhaired DS sometimes was so uncertain when it comes to socializing. She was so vulnerable and closed herself behind thick walls in the presence of "his lot". Or after a case like that, he added inwardly. She didn't say a word in those ten minutes.
"So quiet? You still think about the tapes?" he assumed.
He couldn't imagine – or dared to imagine – any other reason. And in order to not stretch his nerves with the physical closeness he started to talk about the case. Barbara was somehow exasperated to be wrong once more with that devilish woman. But it wasn't her fault that she was betrayed by Tania. He tried to reassure her of that. Tania just intrigued her.
"Don't blame yourself." They were at her home.
"Here we are." He turned off the engine. What now, Tommy-Boy?! Go say goodnight!
He wanted to lean over and instead kiss her goodnight. In fact he wanted even more, but that was what would have been breaking the ultimate limit. They didn't move, then she cleared her throat.
"Doesn't a gentleman opens the door for the lady?" That was an unexpected boldness. He grinned. And yes, she was right – he had forgotten his manners.
But then instead of waiting she opened the door by herself. By all means, does that incredible woman has to walk that zigzagway of mine? he thought. As fast as possible he hurried to her side of the car and apologizes.
"Sorry Ma'am" he smiled "May I lend you a hand?"
Barbara took his hand gracefully and got out of the car. He could swear that she stopped breathing. He stopped smiling. They were so close and he felt like the air around them was sizzling electrically. But then she stepped aside so he could close the door. He turned back to Barbara.
"Well, er, it…"
"Er, oh, will…"
They talked simultaneously. Then both said "You first." Alright, this is getting strange, he thought, and both chuckled.
"Fancy a cuppa?" she asked and in the same time looked as if she were regretting her invitation. She dropped her gaze. He was still tossed and turned. On one hand it would be better to stop here. On the other hand he thought that it could become a nice evening. And a cup of tea would be harmless. He decided to take the chance. Barbara nearly never invited him to her flat.
"You don't have to." she interrupted his thoughts. "It's late and it would be better not to be drinking tea at that time of the day. Besides tomorrow will be a very difficult day and we both have to get some sleep…"
Maybe she got the wrong idea of his quietness. "Stop talking!" If he didn't have stopped her she might have convinced him. "I would like to have a cup of tea now. Really!" He smiled at her reassuringly, took heart and turned both in the direction of her door by putting an arm around her shoulder.
What am I doing? he asked himself. He is aware of Barbaras body the whole of the evening and here he was dooming himself by not driving home immediately. But it was a simple invitation for a cup of tea. Nothing more. But she backtracked by counting the reasons why they should have ended the evening at that point. He should have seized that. Instead he squeezed her shoulder. He should have gone home and leave that physical evening. But after this horrible day he also wouldn't like to be alone so soon. He told her that.
"What's on TV?" Leave that thin ice, Lynley! Some Telly would be innocent and distracting.
Barbara seemed nervous to him because it took her a while to open the door. He said to himself that he didn't have to put too much in that. His mind must betray him. It's just an invitation for a cuppa. What must Barbara be thinking of him if she could read his thoughts.
Barbara went through the door, held it open and invited him in.
"Come in." she said.
He stepped in her little flat and didn't know what to do next. The sofa is about just one step away from the door and there is no coat stand for his jacket. So he just turned to be facing her. They were only a few inches apart. His chest nearly touched her breasts while breathing. He recognized her blushed face and his throat felt rough.
"Sir…?!" she croaked.
"Don't sir me!" he rasped.
His heartbeat sped up. I'm going to kiss you, Barbara! he thought and slowly bent down his head. He gave her time to back off. If the path he had finally chosen to take was the wrong path she could stop it here. But she didn't. When she lifted her face to meet him halfway his heart skipped a beat.
Their lips met. He kissed her softly and didn't dare to put his arms around her. He didn't want to hold her captive. Then she took his hand.
With eyes closed and lips touching and hands entwined he could feel a warm frisson running through his body. He let her lips go and smiled half disbelieving and half pleased. Did she really kissed him back? Did he scare her now? He stared in her much the same disbelieving eyes.
Mirrored in her eyes he could see his own flip-flopping. It looked like she was longing for him but in the same time was so terrified about it. He wanted to tousle her hair. He wanted to kiss her again. He felt so attracted to her.
As if she could've read his mind and went scared about it she made a step away from him. They both still were linked with their hands. And he realized that the door now was in her back.
He felt the urge to push her against it. His thoughts were nothing but lecherous and he didn't care about that anymore.
He closed the distance and captured her between him and the door. Don't just take her! his mind said. He looked in her wide eyes, saw her inner fight between fear and lust and decided to encourage the lust – his own as well as hers.
So he pushed her up against the door. When he pressed his lips on hers he could feel her desperate reaction so he let his own desire run free. He wanted to enter her mouth with his tongue and digged his teeth tenderly in her lips. When she opened her mouth his tongue started its exploration. He still held her hand. His other hand fiddled with her shirt and searched for her breast under it. He squeazed it softly and had to come up for air. She exhaled in his open mouth. It caused a shower of desire running through his whole body and he even pressed her harder against the door. Her hand pulled him at his belt. He decided that there was far too much cloth between them.
He couldn't exactly recall how they made it to her bed. He just knew that on the way they got rid of their clothes somehow. Her halfhearted effort to stop it was overlaid with her lascivious bodytalk. On the bedside he growled hungry and nervously searched for a condom. And apart from all the desire and the lust he let run free he still had the scrap of decency to ask her if she really wants this. He remembered that it might have had to be some time earlier because in that special moment Barbaras wanting was obvious. He still could hear her calling: "Thomas!"
Knackered he laid there. He touched her body with as much of his as was possible without crushing her. He had his nose buried in her neck and was calming down now. He felt a deep satisfaction. He never could have imagined that Barbara was so eruptive. He had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply. This evening had turned out to be an evening full of pleasant surprises.
He felt a tear dropping on his face and looked up to see Barbara smiling.
"Everything okay, Barbara?" he asked her. Her tears and her smile didn't go together and he didn't know what to think of that. He was a bit concerned.
"Yes, everything, Sir." He was relieved. He decided that tomorrow they would bandy a few more words than they've done this evening. He smiled because he decided that he would make her call him Thomas again.
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Maybe, when I'm getting in the mood (oh, that's a promising songline too...) there will be a story about that "tomorrow". We all know, with those two everything might be possible and everything but simple.