:: An Exploration of Need :: Two months after ‘My Gigolo’ I stare at the black phone willing my hand to reach for the receiver. The small white card rests on the desk before me. My tension blurs the numbers. Giving up, I start to stand and leave Mac’s office but the ache, the need makes itself known with an almost painful spasm rocking my sex as I remember his hands roaming and his cock filling me. I want him again. I want my gigolo. I want Clayton Webb. It’s been eight weeks since he rescued me. Rescued me from making a fool of myself or worse – getting myself injured or killed. That night, he also found a way to banish the horrible malaise that had descended upon my life choking me, numbing all that I did. Of course by banishing the numbness, he awakened the need. I grab the phone and punch in the number. He picks up on the second ring. "Hello?" Quietly, I replace the handset. I can’t do this after all. I am a coward. He gave me the card that Saturday afternoon – after. After a night of wonderful sex in the huge king-size bed in my room at the Willard hotel - and after a late morning of delicious sex in the shower. He kissed me at the door of the room and handed me the stiff card. "Call me, Harriet. When you’re ready." Then he was gone. I didn’t even see him for five weeks and when he did come into JAG ops he treated me just like he always had done – he ignored me. I knew he would never make the call. Hell, he doesn’t need to. At least I don’t think he does. Truth? I know nothing about him except what I’ve been told and what he did for me and to me that night. For now, that’s enough. The bleating of the phone jars me and I look down at the caller id. I don’t really need to, but I glance at the card to verify my suspicion. Damn, he must have a ‘call back’ feature on his cell phone. I know that if I don’t pick it up he will just keep trying. Somehow that makes me feel better. On the fourth ring I pick up the receiver, take a steadying breath and finally speak. "Hello." "Why did you hang up before, Harriet?" The voice is gentle, though I hear the amusement there, no cockiness though, just understanding. "H-how did you know it was me? I’m not calling from my phone." I’m playing for time, but he doesn’t seem to mind. "Because Mac wouldn’t have hung up the phone like that and I couldn’t imagine who else at JAG would have been using her phone and…." He’s rambling and I interrupt. "Okay." I sigh. He stops talking and waits. Looking up I see Mac coming toward her office. She wasn’t supposed to be back this soon, her case must have been postponed. I have the perfect excuse to get out of this, so I take a deep breath, feel the ache between my legs and breathlessly ask, "Are you busy this weekend?" There’s not even a pause on the other end. "Let me call you back. I have to try and cancel something." I stare at the dead phone. No goodbye, no teasing, he’s just gone. "Harriet?" Mac is standing at the door, her hand still twisting the knob. "Is something wrong?" Picking up the card, I stand back up. "No ma’am, just needed a quiet place to make a personal phone call. Sorry." I try to rush past her but her hand on my arm stops me. "Hey, Harriet. It’s okay. I can wait if you still need to use it." "No ma’am. I’m through." I can feel the heat on my face but I know better than to try and fabricate anything. Mac studies me for a moment and shrugs. "Well, if you’re sure." I can tell she wants to ‘talk’ and I don’t. Spotting Gunny across the room, I seize my opening and hail him. Admiral Chegwidden needs a report from the file room downstairs and I go up to Gunny to tell him about it. I called him at 1330 hours. It’s now 1510 and I’m starting to get antsy. What if he can’t cancel? Mom and Dad picked up Little AJ last night and are taking him to visit relatives for a week. My son is my life now and I enjoy his company and would never dream of farming him out just to have a night of sex, but I don’t want to miss a perfect opportunity. Damn, I hope Clay can cancel. "Lieutenant Sims?" I’m jerked out of my musings. "Yes, Admiral?" The look he’s giving me is one of concern and I can’t deal with that now. "Is there something you need, Admiral Chegwidden?" Before he can speak the phone rings and I grab for it, glancing at the caller id. Of course! "Judge Advocate General’s Corp., Lieutenant Sims speaking." I snap with my best military air. "Ooooo. I love the sound of military protocol, Harriet. Are you going to order me around this weekend?" Damn him. I think quickly and respond. "Yes, sir. That is correct." "Oh, I see. Is someone standing there? Listening? I could have so much fun with this right now, you know that don’t you Lieutenant Sims?" His voice melts me but also makes me bold. Looking up at my CO I smile. "If you want, Admiral, I can come and see you or, should I call the cleaning service back, sir?" Clay snorts. "Cold, Harriet. But I don’t blame you. Should I call back?" Thank God he doesn’t want to continue teasing me, I don’t know if I could pull it off." "No, Lieutenant. I just needed the Harper file." The Admiral is all business, but I still see the concern in his eyes. Oh good, something easy. "Its in Tiner’s top right drawer, sir." "Thank you, Lieutenant." He starts to turn away and then spins back around. "That’s our cleaning service?" Oh for heaven’s sake now what? "Yes, sir." I squeak. "Tell them to leave the contents of the refrigerator alone. They threw out my lunch last week!" "Aye-aye, sir." Sheesh. Actually it was Rabb who ate the Admiral’s lunch, but I’m not going there. "I’ll be stern, sir." My hand hasn’t really covered the receiver so Webb has heard it all. "Wow. I don’t know what makes me hotter, Harriet. Knowing you’re going to be stern or knowing where the Harper file is kept." I purr softly, "Watch it, buster. Or I’ll tell him you ate his lunch instead of Commander Rabb." "Yes, ma’am. Now that I’ve managed to cancel my dinner appointment with Senator Carlson tomorrow night, I’m all yours." I keep my voice as neutral as I can. I’m glad that Gunny isn’t back with that file folder. "I’m free all weekend." "Tonight?" I can hear his breathing has quickened and I know he wants this as much as I do. To an outsider, the first time might have seemed like some hideous pity fuck, but an outsider hadn’t watched him, hadn’t heard him. "What have you got planned, Harriet?" His voice is deadly serious and suddenly I’m stumped and embarrassed. I really hadn’t thought about anything beyond calling him and hearing back from him. "Uhm…." I look around quickly but everyone is bustling about work or discussing their weekend plans. I drop my voice. "I can get another room at the Willard?" The sigh is long. "Harriet. What weekend is this?" Oh damn. There won’t be a hotel room within 50 miles. I don’t know why but I can’t seem to bring myself to invite him to the house. "Harriet?" "Yes?" I know he can hear the frustration in that one little word. His chuckle comforts me. "Wait ten minutes and then check your e-mail. Just follow the directions." He doesn’t wait for me to say anything and rings off. The rest of the day pokes along. Two hours seem like five but finally, after checking in by cell phone with my folks and telling my son I love him, I head for home. The e-mail from an unidentified sender, something I would normally never open, was a scan of a hand-drawn map. On the side was a small list. I printed it out and then deleted the file. I felt like I was in an episode of that old TV series. I half expected to see smoke coming out the back of my computer. Traffic is horrible, but anyone living within the Beltway expects that. I rush through the house and grabbing a small suitcase, pack for two nights. I make sure that the underwear I pick out is sexy and matching. The note said to bring a nice dress, ‘I want to take you out to dinner.’ I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’m not sure how I feel about anything, except the feel of his hands on me - that I’m sure about. Just as I’m compulsively checking the knobs on the stove – something mom always did before any trip – my phone rings. I’m in such a hurry I forget to check the caller id. Her voice makes me want to groan. "Harriet! Hi, it’s me, Mac." I take a deep breath and force myself to remain calm. "Yes, ma’am?" I don’t want to give her any opening. She’s a good friend and I suspect I know what she’s going to say so I quickly run through possible excuses. "What are you doing tonight? I thought if you want we could go for dinner, maybe catch a movie? I’m sure that Tiner could be sweet-talked into staying with Little AJ if you can’t find a sitter." She’s done this countless times over the past year, most recently just two weeks ago. Most times I’m happy for a night out. But not tonight and I need to head her off. I decide to go with the truth. "Actually, Mom and Dad took their grandson for a grand tour of the relatives. They’ll be back next weekend. I decided to go visit a friend this weekend, and I’m kinda running late." I keep my tone friendly, but excited. It seems to work because she just gives me a ‘well good for you,’ before ringing off. I head south. Thank goodness. There’s a terrible accident on 495 and I don’t want to waste a moment in traffic. I’ve studied the map carefully and make all the correct turn-offs. It’s nearly 2000 hours by the time I enter the small town. Driving down the street I find the tiny bed and breakfast. I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding. There’s his Mercedes. Pulling along side of it I turn off the ignition and sit, my arms folded and my head down. My resolve ebbs and flows every time I think of him. The memory of his touch, his smell, just of him, has fed many a late night wet dream. To dream of my dead husband that way seems somehow wrong and besides every time I do I wake up in tears. I’m tired of the tears. I have nothing to prove to anyone but my son and I tell him daily about his father. What I’m doing has nothing to do with Bud. Clay isn’t a substitute for Bud, he can’t be and I don’t want him to be. I look up and see him standing under a carriage light. It’s funny. A year ago, hell, three months ago, if you had asked me to describe Clayton Webb the first thing that I would have mentioned was his three-piece suit. Yet now, as he was the first time we were together, he wearing khaki pants, a cable knit sweater and a leather bomber jacket. Its almost like he’s two different people, the bull terrier of a CIA spy and my sweet sexy gigolo. He’s waiting there, letting me make the ultimate decision. I wonder briefly what he would do if I suddenly started the car and ran back home. But I won’t. I don’t want to. At this point I’m not really sure that I could. Grabbing the suitcase and my purse from the seat next to me I finally open the door. That’s his signal. Before my foot is on the ground he’s there, reaching for my suitcase. "Did you have any trouble finding the place?" "No. No problem at all. Have you been waiting long?" I’m surprised at how steady my voice is. "Well I came down a couple of hours ago, but that was okay. I had to finish some stuff." He takes my arm and I follow him down the gently lighted path. "I think you’ll like this." "Oh wow!" I’m speechless. I look down at my uniform, which I didn’t take the time to change, so anxious was I to get on the road. I am definitely out of place in this room. Of course I suspect that I don’t own anything that would be in place. It’s opulent in a quiet sort of way. The cottage isn’t very big. Smaller than my small house. But oh man did they pack in a lot of atmosphere. I wonder if he’s brought any other woman here and I firmly tamp that thought down. This is supposed to be fun. Playful. No attachments. I don’t know all the rules for this thing that we have between us, but I hope that we can talk about it this weekend. "So you like it?" I hear the hesitation in his voice, the uncertainty. "Jeez, Clay. What’s not to like?" I walk around the room and carefully touch everything. The brocade-upholstered couch is huge and I image him making love to me on it. The matching cream chairs are deep and I can see me straddling him as he sits in one. The fireplace is all marble and looks old, the fire inviting. There is a small desk in an alcove overlooking a garden lit by path lighting. His brief case sits on the floor and no papers clutter the desk. Sitting down, I smile at him. It’s time to start the game. "So, you have this for the whole weekend?" He smiles and puts his hands in his pockets. "Yes ma’am." I pull out my checkbook. "Well I suppose that I should cover the cost of the accommodations too. I write the check, again to cash, and pull it out of the book with a flourish. Twice since that night I have balanced my checkbook and twice the \\$500 check remained uncashed. I doubt if I have to worry about the $1000 check bouncing. I stand and saunter up to him. "Will this do?" He doesn’t even look at it before he folds it and stuffs it into the inside pocket of his bomber jacket. I wonder what he does with them. I suppose I should be concerned. But I don’t care. It’s nobody’s business what I do with this man. The formalities out of the way, he reaches up and pulls my coat off of my shoulders. Walking back to the door, he hangs it and his jacket on brass hooks by the door. Picking up the suitcase he jerks his head toward an open door. "Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the place." The bedroom is incredible. The huge shaker bed with it’s slatted head board and foot board look like they were made for bondage games – well at least to my fevered mind. There is a chaise lounge that brings images to my mind that leaves me shaking. Mirrors of varying sizes in gold frames grace each wall, even from here I see our reflections. The room has a small fireplace that sends a flickering light across the room. Our shadows dance and merge. I want it to be real. He places my case next to his under the window and then walks up to me. We are only inches apart; his eyes betray his desire. But he waits. I swallow, but I wait too. Suddenly I know what I want from this weekend and I’m not sure that he will approve. "Clay?" "Yes, Harriet." The low purr hardens my nipples. My finger traces up his arm. "This place is beautiful. It’s perfect. You did a great job finding it." Oh shit I’m rambling. Closing my eyes I try to regain control but his voice is even closer to me now and when I open my eyes I can only see his neck and chin. "But?" "Oh no buts." Shit I need to shut up. I lean in and trail my tongue along his chin. "I want…" "Mmmmmmmm. Oh I’m sorry. That just feels very nice. What do you want, Harriet. If it’s within my power, I will do it." He takes me by the shoulders and caressing them he awaits my pleasure. "Okay. I want you to continue." "Well that’s not a problem." He grins and leans forward to kiss me, but I back off a little. "No, I mean I don’t want to have to think about anything this weekend. I paid. I get to make the rules and the rule is – you’re in charge." I finish in a rush and my voice squeaks again. Have I mentioned how much I like his chuckle? His low laugh sends pulses of pleasure straight to my loins. I’m already soaking and I need him and I wonder if I should have told him I wanted him in control after I ravished him on the huge bed. He must need me as much as I need him because he crushes me to him, his lips seeking mine. His fingers dance in my hair. His other hand is roughly caressing my ass, working my uniform skirt up. Damn. I stiffen and he immediately pulls back, looking at me in concern. "What?" "Uhm…I…" I’m blushing. "What?" He’s anxious. I take a deep breath. "It’s just. Well I…oh damn.
I-didn’t-plan-this-through-and-I- "Do you have any idea how sexy you are Lieutenant Sims?" His voice is a low drawl. "Do you know how many dreams I’ve had about taking this uniform off of you." "You do?" I squeak. I suspect he’s lying but I’m determined to go with the flow. If feels good. "What kind of dreams?" Without pausing he runs his hand up my arm. "Well there’s the one where I take you on AJ’s desk." I gasp as the imagery. "Oh yeah?" He takes me by the hand and leads me back into the front room. "The desk is definitely too small, but that couch is similar." It isn’t. But suddenly it is as I get into the game he is weaving. "Sit down on the ladder back chair next to the desk Harriet and don’t move." I hear the change in his voice. I gulp and nod. I wait exactly nine minutes. No, I don’t have Mac’s uncanny ability. There’s a beautiful antique bell-glass clock on the oak table nearby and I count the seconds. I’m sweating and when the door opens my throat goes dry. The three-piece suit is charcoal gray. The red tie, a slash of passion against the white shirt. He’s holding a pad of paper and when he approaches me I can see he is striving to keep the smile from quirking his lips upward. "Good afternoon, Lieutenant Sims." I take a shuddering breath, glance at the sofa but manage a fairly calm, "Good afternoon, Mr. Webb." He sits in the desk chair and turns slightly so that our knees almost brush each other. I force myself to not close the distance. He concentrates on the blank pad of paper in front of him and then looks up at me. "I need to know where Rabb is Lieutenant Sims." His voice is cold and hard. For a moment I almost think he’s serious and almost ruin everything by telling him the Commander is flying his small plane this weekend. But I stop myself in time and I lift my chin to him. "I don’t know, Mr. Webb." "I need to know, Lieutenant." The voice is insistent but the underlying passion unmistakable. "You will tell me." "I can’t, sir." I whisper. His knee just slightly touches mine. His finger comes to rest on my hand that I had rested on the top of the desk. He traces designs between the knuckles and dares me to look away from him. "I will find out, Lieutenant." "Not from me, sir." I insist. I’m no longer calm. "I have my ways, Lieutenant. You know we are trained in all forms of torture don’t you?" That was hard for him. I see the laughter spark in his eyes and he almost has me laughing. But I manage to take a deep breath, making sure that I am sitting up very straight so that my breasts jut out. "Do your worst, Mr. Webb." He stands and walks behind me. His whispered threat envelops me in a haze of desire. "Oh I plan to do my best, Lieutenant Sims." His hands track down my shoulders and to the front of my uniform blouse. He barely touches my breasts. He doesn’t need to. My nipples are so hard and engorged that they strain to meet his palms. He starts at the top button and opens each one, allowing his fingers to hover over my heated skin. My breath is ragged by the time he pulls the blouse from my waistband. Coming around to stand before me, I can see his erection has already tented his slacks and I have to fist my hands to keep from reaching for him. "Stand up, Lieutenant." The low growl penetrates the haze and as I struggle to stand in the small space between us, he roughly grabs me by my blouse and jerks me forward until I’m leaning against him. He yanks the blouse off my shoulders and pins my arms to my sides with it. Holding me tight against his torso he lowers his lips to my neck. "Do you know what I’m going to do to you, Lieutenant?" "No, sir." God I can’t believe we are doing this. No one has every ‘played games’ with me before. No one. His teeth drag one bra strap off my shoulder. His lips trace a line of fire over my skin. Pulling me back by my blouse, he exposes my breasts and begins to nuzzle and worry them. I swear I don’t know how he manages it, but he finds a way to force my hands together until he can hold the blouse in one hand allowing the other to reach and unclasp my utilitarian white bra. Of course it can only fall so far, but damn he makes it work. Lowering his lips to my puckered aureoles he bites down none too gently and the pleasure/pain shoots straight to my core. I can’t help but hump against him. "oooooooo" I moan to the timbered ceiling. He backs away from me. My blouse drops to the floor, followed shortly by my bra. I can see he is having trouble maintaining the illusion but I’m beginning to get into it. "Aren’t you afraid that the Admiral will come in and find you doing this to me Mr. Webb." I even add a teary sniffle. It’s the right thing to say. A sneer curls his lip. Spinning me around he pushes me over to the couch. I lean forward and brace myself against the low back. "Do you think even AJ can stand between me and what I want, Lieutenant?" Oh God his voice is so rough now. His erection grinds into my hips. The button on my skirt pings across the room; the zipper barely open, before skirt, slip, pantyhose and panties are violently yanked down my legs. "Tell me what I want to know." He demands, pushing me forward, exposing me. "Never!" I respond in my best heroine-in-danger voice. Damn, if I close my eyes to just a slit I can almost imagine we are in Chegwidden’s office. The fireplace and the picture of the ship over it are perfect. He pulls away from me and I hear him open his zipper. I want to see him. I need to see him when he enters me. We’ve never done this face to face. The first time because it was new and kinky, the second time, in the shower. Well, it just worked out that way. He looks at me in surprise, but doesn’t turn me back around. His pants are pooled at his feet and he his ripping the tie off, his vest and suit coat already toss over the chair I had been sitting in. "What are you going to do to me." I egg him on. My breast is heaving and trust me, I’m not just acting. The sight of him on the verge of loosing control is a huge turn-on. He stands naked before me and oh God I want him now. Forget the stupid game! But, he’s back in control. Languidly, he begins to stroke his already fully erect cock. "Are you going to tell me?" He takes a step and he rubs his cock against my mound. All I can do is gasp for air and shake my head ‘No’. "Good." He purrs and lifts my legs by my ankles, spreading me. He guides his cock to my entrance, the head just resting there. I whimper. He strokes me with it, grinding it against my clit. "Please." I cry. "No." I grab his shoulders and pull him into me. He finishes burying himself deep within me and we embrace. Two months is too damn long to wait. "Oh yes." I breathe as he fills me. "So good." Our eyes meet and I smile at him, but his expression is very serious. He concentrating and I know he’s ready to come right now. I want this to last a little longer so I reach down, and remembering what he had done that night two months ago, I squeeze the base of his cock. He shudders but kisses me, long and hard before beginning to pump into me. He is brutally squeezing my ass cheeks and that feels so good. His finger rim my anus and I gasp at the sensation. He looks at me inquiringly. Grinning he begins to probe me gently. I can guarantee you, Bud never even thought of doing that to me. I throw my head back and my ‘oh my’ barely makes it past my lips. As he begins to piston into me, I feel my orgasm start. "Oh yes. Just like that." I whisper and bury my head in his shoulder, my hands gripping his arms so hard I know my nails must be digging in. Just as I’m almost there, his hands release my bottom. Grabbing my hair, he forces me to look at him. Even in the haze of my passion I understand. "Please, Clay!" Relief floods his face and his kiss is all I need. I cry out his name and he mine as we come within seconds of each other. Wrapping my legs around him I pull him tighter into me, if that is possible. "Oh boy. What was the question?" He manages. "Something about Rabb." I pull back and look at him. "And if you ask me, that’s pretty damn kinky, Mr. Webb." He throws back his head and roars. When his laughter subsides he commands, "Hold on tight." Lifting me off the couch he carries me into the bedroom. I expect him to dump me on the bed but instead he walks to the bathroom. Sitting me on the sink, he finally pulls out of me. "Wait here." He pads over to the huge shower and turns on the water. A waterfall cascades down from wide slit at the top. He waits until he is satisfied and then, leaving the glass door open he comes and picks me up, one arm under my knees, the other across my shoulders. "I can walk, you know." I nibble on his ear. "Keep that up and you may have to." He deposits me under the warm water and closes the door behind him. Our kiss seems to go on forever and it feels so good to just be held by him. He makes no move to caress me; he knows how sensitive I am right after. Particularly when it has been as wonderfully rough as this time. I lean back into the water and let it cover me in warmth. Finally, I’m able to speak without gasping. "That was the most intense fantasy I’ve other lived out. In fact it’s the only one." My hand comes up to caress his face. He holds it against his cheek and turns his head to kiss the palm of my hand. I see he wants to ask me something but is hesitant. Sighing, I reach for the soap. "Wash my back, I think we need to talk." He had stopped somewhere for dinner. He hands me plates from a cupboard and while I’m setting the table he pulls several foil pans from the oven and brings them out, putting them on trivets that I took down from the wall. I sit down in the flowing white robe I had ‘stolen’ from the Willard, while he opens the wine. I let the delicious smells wash over me. "There’s a little Italian place down the street. I hope you like lasagna. I thought that was the safest. You know, would keep the best." I smile and shake my head. What a strange combination of forcefulness and vulnerability is my gigolo. "It’s wonderful, Clay. I love lasagna and I love asparagus." We eat in silence, though I can tell he wants to talk about things, but he’s unsure of what is safe. I understand. When he’s finished I quickly stand and remove the plates. Setting them in the sink and come back out. "I’ll wash those later. Come and sit down next to me." He grabs our wineglasses and comes and sits in the comfortable couch. I start. "Ask me." "Ask you what?" He doesn’t look at me. He finds the flickering fire light fascinating. Standing up he tosses a few more logs on the fire and returns to sit next to me. "I don’t know what’s safe to ask, Harriet. I’m sorry. I don’t understand this too well." My gentle laugh finally gets him to look at me. "You too, huh?" I take a sip of the fabulous Merlot and sigh. He’s so different from Buddy that it makes it easier. "Okay, what were you going to ask me in the shower?" He blushes a bright red and tries to brush the question away, but I take his hand in mine and force him to look me in the eye. I don’t ask again but he knows I want an answer. "I was just kind of surprised I guess. I was going to ask if you and…" "Bud…" I supply. He nods and starts to continue. "…ever played…" I put my finger to his lips. "Say his name, Clay. He was my husband and lover and best friend. But he isn’t here in the room with us. I’m not using you to pretend he’s alive." "Okay. Did you and Bud never play role games, like we just did?" He seems a little more at ease though by now the question really sounds out of place to both of us. "No, Clay, we never did." I lean back and it’s my turn to study the fire. "I don’t know why. I just don’t think it ever occurred to either of us. There’s a lot of things that never occurred to us because we were so…so. Oh hell. I don’t know. We just lived our lives. We were busy every single moment. When he was away on assignment I missed him, but I always knew he would be coming home and I just…." The tears are falling before I know it. "Shit!" He’s afraid to touch me at first but then I feel his arms around me and he just holds me until my sobs subside. "I’m sorry." He whispers. "It’s not your fault." I hiccup. "I’m the one that brought it up." "No." His hand smoothes my hair. "I’m sorry he died, Harriet. I’m sorry…" He releases me and lays his head against the sofa, once again at a loss for words. I kneel beside him, making sure that my robe is firmly tied. I bend over until I can see his eyes. "I’m sorry too, Clay. I’m sorry for my son and I’m sorry for me. If giving up this wonderful sex with you could somehow bring him back I would do it in a heartbeat. I would do damn near anything. But I can’t and damn it I’m glad you are here for me. I don’t know what would have happened to me that night, but besides saving me from that bastard, you gave me a wonderful gift. He laughs and pulling my face to his kisses me quickly. "It’s never been called a gift before, Harriet." I slap at his chest. He’s wearing his Dockers and a tee shirt and the slap becomes a caress. "Now tell me something?" "mmmmmmmm." He does seem to like me touching him. "What?" "Why?" I half expect him to start our silly word games but he stills my hand, holding against his breast. " ‘I don’t know’ isn’t going to work is it?" "Nope." He takes my hand and begins to kiss the tips of my fingers. Lord that feels very nice. "I suppose maybe because you need me, but you don’t." He looks up from his ministrations and cocks an eyebrow. "Does that make sense?" "No, Clay it doesn’t." I’m trying to stay focused on the conversation here and gently try to pull my hand away. But he won’t let me. "Don’t. Remember, I’m in charge." He kisses my palm again. "You don’t need Clayton Webb, super spy." He looks at me askance. "You do know I work for the CIA, right?" "You do!" No blond has ever uttered those words so perfectly, my eyes are round and we both burst out laughing. He pulls me down to rest my head on his chest. "Yes, Clay, I’ve known for a long time." "Since the bear incident?" He stiffens, afraid that he has overstepped the bounds and I sigh. "Before the bear incident." I place a kiss on his sternum. "Oh good. Where was I?" " ‘I don’t need Clayton Webb, super spy.’" I supply. "Oh yeah, there. Rabb, even AJ, always asks for favors. Yeah, yeah…before you start, I’ve asked for my fair share too." His fingers comb my hair. "Everybody wants something from me and that’s my job and lately I don’t have a life outside my job. You give me that, Harriet. You know who I am and what I do and you don’t seem to care. This isn’t love is it?" The amusement is there but I feel compelled to answer. "No, Clay. It isn’t." I insist. "Good." He really does seem relieved. "I can’t be in love, Harriet. It’s too dangerous for me and for the lady." "Yeah, but why me?" I demand. He shrugs. "I don’t know. Really I don’t and I don’t want to examine it too closely." He sighs and rubs my back. "Hell, we were in the right place at the right time?" I don’t know why I have to push, it’s stupid and dangerous but I whisper. "So if it would have been Mac instead of me?" That brings a belly laugh that almost throws me off of him, only his hand on the small of my back keeps me in place. "Are you crazy? If it would have been Mac, the son of bitch would have been imbedded in the back wall and my whole damn operation would have been blown to hell." I push. Resting my chin on his chest I ask, "I thought the CIA couldn’t run ops on US soil." He slaps my ass, hard. "Don’t, vixen. I ask the questions." "No fair." I pout and we’ve managed to weather the first squalls. "So we take this one day at a time?" He snorts. "One time at time is more like it." He is silent for a long time and so still I think he’s fallen asleep. "Look, Harriet. Whenever you want me, for the sex, if I can I’ll be there I will be. Because damn babe, you are incredible." I’m truly shocked. "I am?" "Bullshit! You are and you know you are. But not just for that, Harriet. If you ever need anything, if you don’t call me, I’m going to be hurt." He sits up and pushes me gently aside. Resting his elbows on his knees he stares into the fire. "You’re going to meet someone, Harriet. Someone who will give you what you need, besides this. That can’t be me, Harriet." He stands up and reaches down to take my hand, "When you find him, you let me know. I’ll check him out and if he is good enough for you, then I’ll stay out of your life – unless you call me." He pulls me into his embrace and I’m trying so hard not to cry his kiss almost takes me by surprise, it’s almost brutal in its intensity. "Until that time I get to be your boytoy, okay?" I can’t speak. I never knew how damn lonely it must be to be Clayton Webb. Taking him by the hand I lead him back to the bedroom. I turn him around and push him back onto the huge bed. "Hey." He complains half-heatedly. "I’m supposed to be in charge!" I take off the robe. "Changed my mind – for tonight. I’m a woman, right?" "Oh yeah." I ease his pants off and throw them behind me. Kneeling next to him I tug at his shirt until I get it over his head. "Hold onto the slats and don’t let go," I command. Hesitantly he reaches up. "Don’t make me tie you down, Webb." We both groan at that thought but he reaches up and I begin. I kiss him everywhere I can reach in a random pattern, so he never quite knows where I’m going to touch next. Gentle kisses I rain down on his eyes and ears. Rougher, harder, more demanding kisses on his lips and chest. I plague his nipples until he cries out for me to ‘stop, please.’ I rub his swollen shaft with whatever part of my body is available and he tries so hard to set a rhythm but I’m not ready for that yet. I trail my tongue down to him but instead of taking him in my mouth I just kiss him all over there too. I spend more time on his scrotum than his penis in fact. His thrashing is making a mess of the bed and I can’t believe that I’ve done this to him and he is letting me. His hands are gripping the slats of the shaker bed so hard I’m afraid he is going to break them in two. Even when I take my breasts and surround his cock with them and rub it with them, even though his pleas have become obscene, he never lets go. Finally I settle on him guiding his throbbing shaft to my entrance. "Let go now, Clay." I’m not really surprised when he rears up and throws me on my back. I’m so close. I revel in the fury of his movements. He is pummeling me and it feels like I’m dying, it’s so good. I meet him thrust for thrust and when he throws back his head and arches his back I hold his shoulders until he falls backward bringing me with him. It was like a roller coaster ride, but there is one more curve as he reaches down and worries my clit until I plunge down into the black abyss of pleasure. Stars swim before my eyes as I collapse forward onto his chest. Neither of us speaks for a long time but tonight, he doesn’t fall asleep, his fingers trailing up and down my spine prove that. In a bit, when he finally falls from me, he rolls us over until he can caress my face. "Tomorrow, I’m gonna walk your ass off." "Oh yeah? And if I don’t want to?" I reach down and lightly scratch the head of his penis. He groans, "You’re trying to kill me aren’t you? You’re really a secret agent for…the enemy…right? "Yeah, right" "You want to shower?" "Mmmm. You gonna leave me alone?" "I’m pretty sure." The shower is sensuous and relaxing, we clean each other and kiss. We dry off and stumble back to the bed, only to groan at the mess. He takes a deep breath and turns to a tall cabinet. "Strip that will you?" Together we spread fresh sheets that smell of sun and crisp autumn air that you can get from a bottle. As we snuggle together, he pulls the comforter up around us and holding me tight he buries his nose in my neck. This feels the best of all. Being held afterwards. I force myself to breathe in and out and not let the tears fall. We were both wrong. This won’t be easy and it won’t be uncomplicated. One day, one or both of us will be hurt and I suspect that it will be Clay. next Home :: JAG Index :: e-mail |