::  Of Rabb-it Ears and Rapiers  ::

Chapter One

"What the hell happened, Rabb? You couldn’t get that last Bo-Beep costume?"

"Shut up, Webb." Harmon Rabb growled dangerously. Unfortunately, the effect was ruined when he had to push the pink floppy ear off his face.

Webb stifled his laugh. He was probably the only partygoer that night that managed that feat. All night long Zorros, princesses – royal and American Indian – hard-boiled private detectives complete with felt fedoras, Napoleons and Josephines, and all manner of movie characters, recent and classic, had made sure to congratulate Chegwidden’s top gun on his courage in wearing something so…white and fluffy to the First Lady’s masquerade party. All had patted him on the back before walking away, laughing their asses off. "Come on, tell me." Webb insisted.

"He dared Colonel MacKenzie," a snide voice supplied. Both men turned their attention to Lauren Singer.

Rabb glared down at her, "Go away, Nurse Ratched."

"That’s Florence Nightingale." She huffed as she flounced away.

Webb looked at Rabb and together they said, "Nuhuh. Not in this or any lifetime."

Rabb took a deep breath and finally grinned sheepishly. "She’s right though. Who would have thought that Mac would be that straight-laced?"

"Straight-laced? Mac? Oh, the Captain Murphy pornography case?"

"Self-Expression." Rabb corrected.

"Hey, Harm, you lost. It’s over. You can drop the act."

Rabb sighed. "I know. But damn it, Webb."

"Rabb, the Captain was publishing really raunchy pictures of his wife on the ‘Net. He admitted it. Why didn’t you take a deal?" Webb had been out of the country, but his secretary made sure that he got the full low-down. She knew he always loved hearing stories about his favorite lawyers. And this story had been yet another front-page black eye for the Navy.

"Because, ‘SHE’ wouldn’t offer one." Venom dripped from Rabb’s voice.

Webb grinned into the lace covering his throat. "What the hell did you say this time?"

"Hey. Why is it always got to be me who…" Something or someone behind Webb captured Rabb’s attention. "Oh for God’s sake."

Webb turned toward the staircase leading down into the White House Grand Ballroom. "Who? … Omagod! Mac? Jesus, I’ve never seen her look so…."

"Prudish, Webb?" Clay turned and saw the Admiral approach them, a strange look on his face.

"Hello, AJ. What’s up?"

A look passed between the lawyer and his boss.

"Ask Mr. Foot in Mouth here." AJ snapped.

Webb studied the JAG. There was little doubt that Harmon Rabb always turned the heads of women in DC but tonight, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden was getting his fair share of hungry looks. Webb took in the blue uniform and tricorn hat. "Not much of stretch, AJ. John Paul Jones?"

"Is there a problem, Webb? Who are you supposed to be? The Highway Man? From Noyes’ poem? I believe Mrs. Crandall specifically said characters from a movie."

The spy grinned. "According to the ‘Net, Hugh Grant stared. But, I’m sure there’s one from the thirties - probably MGM. Hell AJ, they made every other novel or epic poem into a bad movie back then." He swept his coat back showing the pistol and his rapier. "Had a hell of time getting past security. Had to show my ID. My real one."

"Oh poor baby." Rabb huffed, never taking his eyes off Mac. "She lied to me."

"SHE did?" AJ snorted as he purposefully eyed Rabb up and down. "I don’t think that was the ‘bunny’ costume she had in mind."

"But, sir!"

"Can it, Commander. You started this. Are you ever going to learn to keep your mouth shut?"

Rabb sighed piteously and continued to glare at his partner across the room. He saw Bobbi Latham approach her and sighed yet again.

"Mac?"

"Hi, Bobbi. Wow. Where did you find that?" Mac hesitantly reached out and ran her hand over the gold lame sheath hugging the curves of the congresswoman.

Bobbi touched the gold headpiece and the wide choker. "Is it okay?"

"Are you crazy! You look perfect. You make a beautiful Nefretti."

Bobbi grinned. "Well, you wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to find it all. I had a friend at the Met send me these."

"They real gold?"

"Heavens, no." Bobbi looked down her nose at Mac. "Now, what’s up with this?"

Mac who had finally spotted her partner, gasped in surprise. Bobbi, who had already heard several versions of the gossips decided to play innocent in hopes of getting the straight story. "What? Oh AJ? Who would have thought bald could be that beautiful. Damn."

"The dirty rat. I knew he wouldn’t do it."

"Who? AJ? What?"

"Rabb."

"You know, I heard there was some kind of dare. You dared him to come as Harvey the Rabb…it?" Bobbi purposefully drew it out.

"No he was supposed to come in a Bunny costume."

"Mac he is in a…"

"A Playboy Bunny costume." Mac finished.

"Get out." Bobbi had to hold her headpiece in place, she was laughing so hard.

"No he told me…well never mind what he said."

"He told you if you came as a frumpy old lady, he would dress as a Playboy Bunny?"

"No he said I was being a hard-ass over the Murphy case because I was a prude."

"Excuse me? You of the killer evening dresses? You of the blue bikini in People magazine."

"He told me to put up or shut up. You know Murphy shot that film of his wife stripping out of a Playboy Bunny outfit. Harm said she was free to express herself the way she wanted and I shouldn’t hold it against her husband. When I refused, he called me a prude. It was typical Rabb posturing, Bobbi. He was doing what he could for the pervert, because Murphy was his client. But, he really pissed me off. I told him I wasn’t going to deal because I didn’t need to, the violation was clear and that it had nothing to do with me being a prude. I’m not a prude. That’s when he told me to prove it and dared me to wear something racy tonight like a Playboy Bunny outfit. Like I would to the White House for goodness sakes. I told him I would if he would. I knew he wouldn’t, but he still pissed me off so bad I decided to come…"

"As Eleanor Roosevelt?" Bobbi was steadily edging them closer to the three men.

"No." Mac grinned evilly. "Virginia Woodhull."

Bobbi thought for a moment then chortled. "Oh my. The early suffragette back in the 1860’s who spouted free love?" Mac’s smile gave her the answer. "I wonder how many of the men will get it – or the women."

"The Admiral might. Harm’s memory of history is pretty much focused on the great battles of various wars."

"What about our Highway Man there."

Mac finally tore her eyes away from her partner and purred. "Well, I will be damned."

"I always loved that poem." Bobbi began to recite. "He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin. A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin. They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh. And he rode with a jewelled twinkle, His pistol butt a-twinkle, His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky." She sighed. "Webb nailed it. Would you look at the way those pants hug his thighs."

"Damn. He looks fine, doesn’t he?" Mac couldn’t stop staring at the spy.

"Down girl. You know you’re going to suffer some slings and arrows here over the costume. Couldn’t you have found something besides brown?" Bobbi whispered as they came within earshot of the three men.

"Gee Mac, I didn’t know they had Playboy Bunnies back in olden times." Rabb opened.

"Commander." AJ growled a warning. He looked Mac up and down but waited.

"Hello, Admiral. You look quite dashing in your costume. Lord Nelson?"

Rabb snorted derisively, "Nooooo. He’s John Paul Jones."

Mac glared but decided to tweak his nose. Assuming what she hoped was a vapid look, she cooed, "Ooooooo, you mean the keyboardist from Led Zepplin?"

Webb and Bobbi laughed. AJ coughed and Rabb looked like he had no idea what to say next.

"You look like you should be on the deck of the Bonhomme Richard, sir." Mac assured her CO.

"Thank you Colonel." AJ said.

Mac turned her attention to Webb. "And Clay, I have to tell you, you look…well let’s just say," she fingered the lace of his collar, "this is much sexier than your normal three-piece suits." While she had said it to get Rabb’s goat, she meant it. His answering blush was definitely endearing.

"Absolutely." Bobbi agreed. "You two are the hottest guys here."

"Gee, thanks a lot, Bobbi." Rabb growled.

Bobbi ignored him and turned her attention to the Admiral. In a move that surprised them both, she hooked her arm through AJ’s. "Dance with me, John Paul."

"As my queen commands." AJ smiled warmly and led the tiny congresswoman to the dance floor.

"So Mac. Who are you really?" Harm demanded.

"You don’t recognize me, flyboy?" Mac found herself more interested in Webb’s careful inspection of her garb. She knew she really didn’t look all that shabby. The costume, on loan to her from a friend who worked at the National, had been used in a play about early feminists. It was an original work and Mac doubted that Virginia Woodhull had been the subject of any movies.

"No." Rabb replied petulantly as he pushed the broken ear back off his face, again.

"Virginia Woodhull." She told Webb.

Mac watched both men for their reactions. As she suspected, Rabb just looked confused. Webb on the other hand looked like he was processing the information. Simple recognition of the name changed to complete understanding of the historical figure. Two twin spots of pink colored his cheeks and she sighed, relieved to know that someone besides the former feminist history professor turned congresswoman had understood the full message she was sending.

"Who?" Rabb demanded. "What movie was she in?"

Mac inwardly groaned. Most people wouldn’t give a rat’s ass whether or not her character had ever been the subject of a movie. But, knowing Rabb, he would worry it to death. She started to admit she didn’t know, when Webb spoke up. "The Caflin Weekly wasn’t it Mac? Obscure indy flick about the first woman to try to run for President. From about two or three years ago, I think. I’m surprised at you, Rabb."

"What? I don’t watch indy flicks. Hell the last movie I saw was that English movie that won all the awards. My date insisted."

Mac cocked her eyebrow at Webb. Had he just saved her butt? Or was there really an independent movie about Woodhull? Was that an evil sneaky little grin tugging at his lips?

"Would you like a drink, Colonel?" Webb asked, straight-faced.

"Sure. That would be nice." She agreed and watched as his coat brushed across the muscles of his thighs as he made his way to the bar.

"Mac." Rabb began.

"What?" She responded wearily.

"Hey. Truce. You won." He softened his tone.

"Yeah I did. Now could you drop it? Please."

"Mac. You know I didn’t mean it."

"That I was a prude? If you didn’t mean it, why did you say it?"

She waited for a heartbeat, for a lifetime, and realized that he probably didn’t know himself and couldn’t answer; wouldn’t if he could. "I’m not a prude, Harm. But then, you’ll never know that, will you?" Tears stung her eyes and she hurried away from him.

The Secret Service agents on guard didn’t stop her from going out onto the covered walkway that looked out over the Rose Garden. She took a deep breath and stepped out onto the lighted pathway. It was cold tonight. The National Weather Service had predicted snow and she could smell it in the air. She shivered and was glad that she had the velvet jacket that came with the replica of the 1869 dress.

"You want me to go back for some hot chocolate?" Webb said with some amusement.

"No, thanks this is good." She took the tonic and lime and drank half of it trying to wash away the sobs welling up in her throat.

He stood just behind her. He knew she was upset with Rabb. But, he also knew she would talk about her idiot partner when she wanted to – with whom she wanted. Frankly, he hoped she wouldn’t single him out for that honor. For nearly six years he had watched and waited. No, he didn’t want to be the friend she turned to when she needed a shoulder on which to cry. Well yes he did, but not the one who she would run to every time Rabb said something stupid.

Taking a deep breath he made a conscious decision to finally act on his feelings toward her. Leaning forward until his lips were inches from her ear he whispered. "So tell me, Miss Woodhull, do you really believe in free love?"

She turned to find his lips inches from hers, his breath hot against her mouth. She gulped and the lights of the path picked up the deep green in his eyes. Taking one small step back she tilted her head and a smirk replaced her frown, "The Calfin Weekly?"

He grinned, but didn’t let go of the moment. Instead he reached out and took her hand. "What did you want for short notice? Want to place a small wager that he spends the next three days looking for it."

She snorted but didn’t pull away. "I bet he forgets the name by the time he leaves here tonight." She closed the distance between them. "Wager what?" She demanded huskily.

His thumb began to rub circles on the palm of her hand and his smile grew until it lit his face. "Back rub. The loser gives the winner a back rub."

"Seems kind of tame to me, Mr. Webb."

They were so close she could see the thrill in his eyes – and the worry too. Worry that he was perhaps moving too fast.

Whatever caution he was feeling, it didn’t stop him. Reaching up with his free hand, he ran it over her lower lip. "You’ve never had one of my back rubs."

"Good are you?"

"The best." Gently he moved his lips across hers and she stepped even closer, deepening the contact. Neither paid any attention to the thud as the glass she was holding fell from her hand to ivy covered ground.

"Hmmmmm. Nice. But, I’m skeptical, Mr. Webb."

"Of me, Colonel MacKenzie?"

"Yes. How can I be sure that this back rub you’re touting is worth the wager?"

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace. Their lips met again and this time their tongues joined in, twining and mating until they were both a little dizzy. Pulling back, he gazed into her eyes. They were dark and deep and full of mysteries – like the Grand Canyon at dusk. He wanted desperately to explore those depths. "Well, there’s really only one way to find out."

She nipped at his chin. "A free trial?"

"Pretty free." He kissed her neck

"No strings attached?" She ran her hands up his back, feeling the muscles there tighten under her caress.

"Well, I can’t promise that, Mac. I may want a little quid pro quo."

"Hmmm. Well my quid’s pretty good, but I don’t know if you’ll like my quo."

"I’m willing to find out." He pulled back then and turned a little serious. "Are you?"

"One day at a time?"

"No pushing, Mac. Not even tonight."

"Oh yeah?" She chuckled and pushed him slightly. "What if I want to push a little?" She pushed again and he reached out to pull her to him again, holding her so she could feel what she was doing to him. He didn’t kiss her though. Instead he took her hand and dragged her along with him.

They reentered the ballroom and immediately ran into AJ, who was standing with Bobbi talking to the SecNav and his wife. "Has the President retired yet?" Webb demanded a little breathlessly.

Nelson and Chegwidden studied the spy and the Marine, but it was Bobbi who supplied, "Yes. Ten minutes ago. He asked after both of you." She didn’t bother to keep the Cheshire cat’s grin off her face.

"Cute, Congresswoman. Mac isn’t feeling well and I told her I would drive her home." Webb felt like a 17-year old explaining to his girl’s parents why they were 5 minutes past curfew.

"Uh-huh." AJ turned his attention to Mac as if he expected her to come to her senses. "Colonel?"

"Good night, Admiral. Mr. Secretary." Mac was blushing a pretty pink. "She glared at Bobbi who just winked at her.

As they left the ballroom Mac caught Rabb’s reflection in one of the large mirrors. Several blonds, all of who were touching some part of his bunny costume, surrounded him.

"Incredible. He can get girls in that thing. Well more power to him." Mac said without any rancor in her voice.

"Good for him. I think I’ll settle for just pleasing one woman." Webb said.

She squeezed his hand. "Even if this woman takes a lot of pleasing?"

"Oh yeah."

She wasn’t really surprised that a limo picked them up and was now glad she had taken a cab. She was rather surprised that he was content with just kissing her as they were driven down Pennsylvania Avenue.

"Your place? Mine is okay. Wherever you want, Mac."

Again, she found his nervousness endearing. "Well, I see this as a major problem. If you come to my place, you’ll have to wear this out tomorrow morning. My neighbors’ll probably attack you. You are planning on staying the night."

He nuzzled her neck and ran his finger over the tulle covering her thigh. "Mac, if I have my way, you’re going to have to kick me out Monday night."

"Oh ho, my fine lad. Sure of yourself, aren’t you?" She was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to gently spar with him. They both knew what was going to happen and for a moment Mac remembered her own ‘free love’ period of her youth.

"I’m sure I can please you if you’ll let me, Mac." He began to kiss each finger on the hand he had held since they left the Rose Garden.

She rested her head against his shoulder and shyly asked the questions that had to be asked in this day and age. Each assured the other that they were as safe as the US government could certify. Mac allayed any fears he might have that condoms, being what they were, weren’t necessary with her to prevent pregnancy as she was on the pill. He sensed sadness in her tone but pushed the thought away. It was way too soon to be thinking along those lines. The very fact they were heading toward what he hoped was a weekend he had only dreamed about was heady enough for now.

"Of course, if I go you your place…" she mused.

"If you come to my place…Sarah, you can borrow a sweat suit to wear home, or I’ll have a complete wardrobe delivered for your approval."

"I like that." She sighed.

"What? The new wardrobe?"

"That you called me Sarah."

This time the kiss slowly led to gentle explorations and by the time they arrived at his townhouse, Webb wasn’t sure he could climb the front steps. He barely had time to close and lock the door before she pushed him against it, capturing his lips in hers. "I want this, Clayton. I want you to make me scream your name." She roughly palmed his balls through his slacks.

Grabbing both her wrists he wrapped them behind her back and kissed her roughly. "No can do, Marine."

"Excuse me?" She growled as he pulled her up the stairs.

"I’m on probation here and I believe I promised you a back rub."

"Webb!"

He wondered for a moment how she would take out her obvious frustration with him.

She stood at the doorway of his bedroom. Before tonight, she had only vaguely wondered what making love to Clayton Webb would be like; as most people do with people with whom they work. But she had never progressed this far. Usually her imagination had them in some exotic, faraway locale under some odd or dangerous circumstance. This all seemed rather ordinary. His room was done up in earth tones. And while the bed was inviting, it was just a bed.

"Okay?" He asked, trying to see his comfortable setting through her eyes.

She nodded and smiled. "Okay."

"May I undress you, Sarah?" he whispered in her ear.

He was unbelievably gentle, bestowing intense concentration upon each pearl button. He carefully hung her jacket and dress up, but when he got to her undergarments he stopped for a moment and just drank in her beauty.

"Clay?" Worry tinged her question.

"I can’t believe we’re here, doing this," he whispered.

"Frightening?"

"God no. Awe inspiring."

A deep red blush crept up her torso. "Oh." She whispered. "Wow." She swallowed. When he touched her again, to pull the strings from the corset, she was panting lightly. He bent to kiss her shoulder and she found she had to hold onto him to keep from falling.

He knelt before her to pull down her stockings and garter belt. Her fingers flexed through his hair. Soft moans filled the room.

He rested his head against her thigh. He longed to bury himself in her, but a promise was a promise.

"Clay," she whimpered as he stood up after just one, almost chaste, kiss on her mound.

"Lie down," he demanded hoarsely as he began to tug at his clothes.

"No. I want to watch." She sat on the bed and rested her weight on her arms, outstretched behind her. "Strip for me, Clayton."

It was his turn to swallow only to find his throat dry. He had to be content with a deep gulp of air. "Okay." He licked his lips and struggled out of his tight fighting coat.

"Need help?" She fought to keep the evil grin off her face.

"Not yet. But, I’ll let you know." He gritted his teeth and vowed sweet revenge. He practically ripped the lace from his throat. Rapier and pistol were placed on the dresser.

He began to toe off his boots.

"Let me." She rose from the bed and gently pushed him back until he stumbled and fell to the heavy overstuff chair in the corner. Up until that point he hadn’t thought he could get any harder but the sight of her turning around and wiggling her ass before bringing his booted foot between her legs nearly had him coming in the costume. He had to close his eyes for a moment. He took a deep cleansing breath to try and calm down.

"Clay?"

"Hmm?" His eyes shot open as he felt her kneel between his legs. "Sarah." He groaned as she worked the closure at his pants. "Please, I want…"

"I know. But I think you need a little relief." She tugged at his pants. "Clayton Webb in leather. Nice," she purred. "Take off the shirt, Mr. Webb."

"Oh God, Sarah!" He cried out as she dragged her tongue over the head of his cock.

She ran her hands over his torso. "My, my, what have you been hiding from me, Clay?" Any further comments would have to wait. She focused on his cock, licking down to his balls, bestowing wet open-mouthed kisses on them.

He couldn’t help but arch up. Every fantasy he had ever imagined with Sarah MacKenzie had just been shot down in flames. The reality of her bobbing up and down on his shaft was more than he could stand. But he didn’t want it this way. Not the first time. Summoning every last ounce of strength he possessed, he firmly took her face in his hands. "Sarah. Stop." She paused, looking up at him, but not releasing him. "Please, baby. I want to be inside you. Please let me make love to you."

Drawing out the torture with one long rough stroke of her tongue along his entire length, she released him. Releasing her face, he pulled on her shoulders drawing her up his torso. She rested her knees on either side of him and gazed down into his eyes, which appeared almost unfocused in his passion. "You sure you want me, Clayton?"

"Oh God, for so long." He couldn’t hold it back and she saw the longing and desire and need, starkly etched on his face. Guilt for not seeing it sooner warred with anger at him for not speaking of it before now; both were forgotten as he positioned her over his cock and thrust up into her.

She threw her head back and groaned out her pleasure. It had been so long and no one had ever filled her like Clay. Words failed her, though she wanted to tell him how good he felt inside her, stretching her, hitting that one spot that always made her tremble. His hands supporting her were placed just right so that his thumbs could tease her nipples. Too soon it was over. One particularly violent thrust threw her over the edge and she was only dimly aware of her name being chanted. She felt his warmth fill her and finally she let him pull her forward to rest against his chest.

As she nestled her head in the hollow of his shoulder, her lips pressed against his neck he worried that his admission might push her away. He had heard about, hell, he had seen the disaster that Mic Brumby had made of pursuing her too hard. But, he knew of no way to back petal. He certainly wasn’t going to deny it.

She sat back up, clenching her inner muscles, holding him inside her. "Nice."

"Oh yeah." He rubbed his hands over her arms. "Not quite the long drawn out seduction I had planned."

"You planned this?" She ground against him causing him to hiss.

"Gentle, Sarah," he growled.

"You planned this?" she repeated, again bringing pressure to his tender cock.

"I’m a quick planner, Sarah. I decided to…to…to pursue you in the Rose Garden. You finally gave me the opening I’ve been waiting for."

"Mmmmmm." She demanded a kiss. "I like a quick planner. Oh, and don’t worry. I’m going to want that backrub – maybe right after our shower." Relief flooded his face and she shook her head. "Clayton."

"Yes, Sarah."

"Are you going to propose to me this weekend?"

"Don’t think so."

"You going to ask me to move in with you?"

"Tonight?"

"Beast." She slapped at him.

"Hey. That’s Sexy Beast." He pulled her down for a long kiss.

She pulled back and he was amazed that he was still inside her. It felt good. She cocked her head at him and then ran her hand up his chest. "Do you think I’m a prude, Clayton?"

Oh that was a question fraught with land mines but Webb refused to let Harmon Rabb intrude on this weekend. He knew they would have to deal with the Commander – probably AJ too - but not now. He licked his lips and then smiled evilly. "Well, Colonel MacKenzie, from every early indication I would have to say that my initial reaction to your sexual prudishness would be a negative, but, I could have misinterpreted the external evidence to the contrary."

Mac’s brow furrowed and she thought for a minute. "What the hell did you just say?"

Webb laughed so hard he finally fell from her. Gently easing her off his lap he stood up and took her by the hand. "Well, counselor, I said we would have to explore and test the waters. Now, in my opinion, a prude would never shower with a man after she had just given him the best damn blow job he ever had. What would you say?"

"I say it would depend on exactly what the prude intended to do in the shower with the man she had just given him one of her" she shrugged and rocked her hand from side to side "…eh…okay…blow jobs."

He gulped dramatically, "That was just one of your okay blow jobs? Damn, you’re gonna kill me. You’re definitely no prude." They had just reached the door to his bathroom when the shrill bleat of a cell phone interrupted them. Immediately they broke apart and went searching.

"Not mine." Webb placed his on the dresser.

"Damn it, Harm." She stared at the caller ID trying to decide what to do. His hand closed over hers and he looked to her for approval.

"May I?"

Her eyes grew wide then she pushed the phone toward him. He hit the send button and put the phone to his ear. "Rabb. What do you want? Rabb, push the rabbit ear off your face, your voice is muffled. Is it military business? Well buddy, the lady is indisposed for the rest of the weekend unless AJ himself has the stones to walk up to my door and ask for her. Good night, Rabb." He hit the power button and put the phone next to his. "There. Everyone knows – or will know within the hour - where you’re at and that you are relatively safe. If they want you they can come and fight me for you."

"Ooooooo. My hero." She sighed dramatically. "What are you going to do if the Admiral comes to your door?"

"You mean after you’ve driven me to the emergency room to get my nose set?"

She pulled him into the three quarter bath and turned on the shower. "Yeah, after that."

"Well if he needs you for JAG, then I’ll kiss your cheek and say ‘call me when you get back.’ If he just wants to know what the hell I think I’m doing, I’ll glare at him and slam the door in his face. Okay?"

"Very much okay. But, can we skip the broken nose part?"

"I hope." He stepped into the shower and pulled her in behind him. "I’m glad you’re here with me, Sarah. What I said before…you know, about wanting you for so long?"

"Yeah." Giving him a little space and time to think, she reached for the soap on the glass block window ledge and smelled it. "Mmmmm. Sandlewood. I like that scent on you."

"I meant it, Sarah. But I also meant I wasn’t going to push. We’ll take this at a nice pace."

"Thank you, Clay," she said seriously. She kissed him sweetly. "You know, I always thought you had lovable qualities."

"Really?" He took the soap from her and turned her around. He worked up a smooth lather all over her body, kneeling behind her to make sure her legs were clean. Slowly rising, he began to kiss her skin where the water washed away the soap. He ran his fingers along the cleft of her ass, teasing her anus before moving down to her sex.

She gasped at the sensations he was building in her. Her nipples tightened even with only slight attention. Standing, he kissed his way up her spine.

Lolling her head back to his shoulder, she demanded a kiss. As his mouth claimed hers, he picked up the pace, becoming rougher, pinching her nipples now, trailing lower until his finger began to circle her clit. The water did little to cool her fevered skin as she began to buck against his hand. Her cries of release seemed to echo around the shower stall. "Oh wow." She sagged against him. "Oh jeez, Clay." She was still panting slightly as he leaning her against the wall and quickly washed off. She watched him with hooded eyes. "You sure know how to tire a girl out."

"You ready for that rub down now?"

"I’ll fall asleep," she murmured as he toweled her off. He even did a credible job getting a towel turbaned around her hair. She stopped him from leading her into the bedroom though. "I don’t suppose you have a spare toothbrush?"

"Hang on a minute." He wrapped a towel his waist and went out of the bathroom and bedroom. He returned shortly with a new toothbrush. "I’ll give you a minute."

After he closed the door, she leaned against the sink and stared at her reflection. "Girl, what have you discovered here, right under your nose?" She grinned and whispered back. "I think a real find." She brushed her teeth. Searching a bit, she found his comb and ran it through her hair. Yawning, she realized how very happy she was that tonight was Friday and Monday was a holiday AND, Turner was on call.

The shadows flickered across the room and she smelled the scent of vanilla. "Candles, Clayton?"

"Last year’s Christmas exchange. You like?"

"Very much."

He was standing by the window. "It’s snowing."

"You got plenty of food?"

"You won’t starve, Colonel. Promise."

"Goo…" She yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth "…deee.".

"Come on, Sarah. Let’s go to bed."

"What about…" she giggled out of the next yawn. "My back rub - Tomorrow."

He came up and kissed her on the nose. "I promised didn’t I?"

"Yes you did."

He climbed into bed and settled down. Holding open the covers he beckoned her to join him. She snuggled against his chest. "Do you snore?"

"I have no idea."

"Liar."

"I swear, I don’t know."

"I do."

"I don’t mind."

"You might."

He held her until she fell asleep. Wetting his fingertips, he pinched the flame out. He lay there listening to her soft breathing and looking out the window as the snow fell. He wasn’t sure how long they would stay together. He had few illusions but he was determined to do everything he could to make it last.

She murmured in her sleep and he kissed the top of her head. "Clay." She moaned and snuggled closer.

Then again, maybe his dreams just might come true after all. He quickly thought of all the things they could do this weekend – when they weren’t making love. Remembering his extensive collection of old movies, he grinned as sleep finally began to overtake him. "Maybe Harvey."

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