:: You wouldn’t Believe Me if I Told You ::
Note: This is about as AU as you can get. This story pretty much ignores everything including Tribunal. Just a silly little peace of fluff, the way it might have happened (in my dreams!) Consider this part of the Fantasy series.
Special Note: Tina honey, it’s all here, ghost, house, "I do not Believe in Ghosts, even a couple of folks in costumes. Oh and that 500 word thing – you did say at least!
‘O’ Street
Georgetown
October 30 – 2300 Hours
The driver of the car had evidently lost control, skidded on the wet Georgetown street and run under the back of the parked semi truck. It wasn’t pretty, but the cops had been able to find the wallet. The driver’s license had identified the dead man as Clark Palmer. The ‘In Case of Emergency’ card neatly named ‘Clayton Webb, Assistant Director for Covert Ops of Southeast Asia for the Central Intelligence Agency’ and listed a cell phone number. They’d called that number immediately.
Webb had been dining with Rabb, so they’d both hurried to the scene. Because it had smelled like a set up, Webb had one of the lab techs meet them there. The tech was able to get both DNA samples and fingerprints and, using the latest technology, confirmed at the scene, that yes, Clark Palmer was dead.
Webb stared down at the body bag then up into Rabb’s astonished stare. "I can’t believe he’s dead!"
"I know it’s wrong to feel this good, but damn! This is wonderful." Rabb let out a contented sigh. "I never would’ve thought I’d live to see the day."
"I’m just glad that you and I both have alibis for the time in question," Webb said.
"The cops tell you what happened?"
Just then the detective in charge of the case stepped up. "One of you guys named Rabb?"
"I am," Rabb said. "Why?"
"We found this under the seat of his car. Your name’s on it." Since Rabb had accompanied Webb, the detective figured Rabb was CIA too. "Put these gloves on before you touch it."
After both men had protected their hands, Rabb took the plain manila envelope and squeezed up the clasp. He pulled out a sheath of papers. Right on top was a black and white photograph.
Both he and Webb stared at the picture of a very naked Sarah Mackenzie hanging from what appeared to be a pipe in a dark room. "Oh my God!" Webb gasped.
Rabb turned the photo over and read, his voice a harsh whisper. "You lose, Rabb. I may be dying but I’m going make sure you suffer! You’ll never find her. She’s going to freeze or starve to death before you can get to her."
Rabb stood there stunned. Webb took the papers and holding one up to the light began to read what appeared to be a doctor’s report. "Holy shit! This says he had leukemia."
Rabb shook his head in disbelief as the body bag was being loaded into a CIA vehicle. "You sure those tests were right. This stinks to high heaven!"
"Let’s get everything to the boys at the lab, see what they can find," Webb said, keeping his own fear at bay. Mac would be okay. They’d save her. They had to save her. He didn’t think he could handle it if something happened to her.
"Can you believe it?" Rabb ground out. "Even in death, Palmer is trying to haunt me! I hope he burns in a fiery hell."
Webb clapped his hand on his friend’s arm. "Come on, Harm. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us."
:: :: :: ::
Boarded up Mansion
Georgetown
October 31 – 0001 Hours
Well, hell! Death really wasn’t what he’d expected it to be. But then, he hadn’t expected to actually die! Not this soon! Clark Palmer stared at the woman dangling from the handcuffs draped over the black sewer pipe. He definitely didn’t want to spend eternity with Sarah Mackenzie. Not with the way she was treating him with such disrespect!
"You expect me to believe you’re dead! Ha! Come over here and uncuff me, you son-of-a-bitch! I’ll show you dead! You’re a sick bastard! Harm’s going to kill you, you know that don’t you!" Mac twisted the cuffs and pulled on the pipe. "Why are you just standing there? You really don’t expect me to believe you’re a ghost! I do not believe in ghosts!"
Her voice was a grating screech and try as he might he couldn’t get away from her. And he had tried. Every time he walked out of the old mansion just two streets away from Mac’s apartment building, he found that he could walk just so far, then the next thing he knew he’d turn a corner and bam! He was back in the basement corridor walking toward the small wine cellar where he’d stashed her.
"I didn’t mean to actually die! I sure as hell didn’t want you to die down here!" he insisted with growing alarm. "I was just jerking Rabb’s chain. I had it all planned out!"
"Balls! You get over here and unlock these handcuffs!"
He twisted his face into the scariest mask he could remember in an effort to try and scare her, but she was every inch a Marine. She just glared at him and rolled her eyes. "God! You’re pathetic!"
And that hurt worst of all, because, he was pathetic. Ever since he’d run into that damn priest everything was going to hell in a hand basket. He moaned at his own pun.
"Pathetic! You hear me, Palmer. Even your moans are pitiable!"
"Shut up! Just shut up!" His scream of anger finally managed to project beyond a squeak. "I’m sorry, okay! I just wanted Rabb to come and find you. I was going to have some fun, but..."
"Liar!" She snapped it out, but she thought he looked very confused. Not at all like the Palmer they’d come to know and fear. "Palmer, tell me what you did!"
"I faked the doctor’s report. It showed I was in the final stages of leukemia."
"Rabb will figure it out."
"Yeah right. He’ll freak out! He’ll be beside himself! He won’t be able to function! He might even finally admit that he loves you!"
"He’s my friend, Palmer. But then you could never understand something that simple. He’ll find me. But tell me something. If you’re really dead, but you don’t have leukemia, how did you die?"
"Got me. One minute I was driving down the road and everything went dark."
:: :: :: ::
Rabb’s Apartment
Northeast of Union Station
October 31 – 2130 Hours
"It wasn’t leukemia, Harm. The bastard died of a heart attack," Clay said following Rabb into his apartment. "But it really is Palmer. We definitely know that."
"Terrific." Rabb pulled off his coat and tossed it onto the back of the couch. "DC police haven’t a clue where to look. After they found that train schedule for the Acela Express, they alerted Boston PD. The conductor who was on duty yesterday is missing. It smells like a Palmer set up. But what the hell are we supposed to do?" He walked into the kitchen and opened his refrigerator. "You want a beer?"
"Yeah, thanks." Webb flopped onto the couch.
"What did the boys at the lab say about the photo?"
"They’re still working on it," Webb insisted with more enthusiasm than he felt. The tech was a wiz and he didn’t hold out much hope. "The room’s brick – probably an old wine cellar. There’re pipes running through it, there’s a long table that was probably used for wine tasting at some point. That’s all we know. Damn it!" Webb ran his fingers through his hair. "We have to do something. We have to find her!"
Rabb watched his friend closely as he reached out the bottle. "Does Mac know?" he asked softly.
Webb looked confused as he took the bottle. "Know what?"
"That you’re in love with her?"
"In love with her! Are you crazy?" Webb said with more vigor than was really called for. "I’m only concerned because she’s the only person who can keep you in line. You’re the one who’s in love with her!"
"Yeah. I guess," Rabb said nonchalantly, carefully searching Webb’s flushed face.
"Yeah you guess!" Webb surged out the chair, the beer foaming up at his agitated movement, forcing Rabb to step back. "You guess! She’s the finest woman either one of us know and you treat her like…like…!" He was so furious he didn’t see the triumphant smile on Rabb’s face. "How can you treat her so nonchalantly? We’re...I’m going to find her and when I do..." His voice trailed off. "And when I do," he sighed. "She’ll run back to you."
"Well, buddy, you better make sure that she doesn’t then," Rabb said softly. The stunned look on Webb’s face was priceless. "God, you’ve got it bad. She’s my friend. But I’m not going to push her into your arms." He looked away for a moment and dropped his voice. "I’m not sure either one of us is good enough for her."
"I don’t understand...how can you not love her?"
"I do, but I also know that we’re too much alike. Now, get out of here and get some sleep. You’ll be no good to her dead on your feet."
"But!"
"I’ve got to meet with NCIS first thing in the morning! Go!"
:: :: :: ::
Webb walked through the streets of Washington trying to make some sense of it all. He ignored the trick or treaters; even the couple who, dressed like Bonnie and Clyde, accosted him with a demand for money. He almost pulled his gun, until he noticed the bucket that declared they were collecting for Ronald McDonald House. The look on his face must have been truly frightening because Clyde urgently pulled Bonnie away.
What the hell was the world coming to? Clark Palmer was dead, Mac was missing and Rabb had just told him that he and Mac were just friends.
As he crossed the M Street Bridge into Georgetown, he went over what little information that they did have.
The last anyone had seen of Colonel Sarah MacKenzie was when she left her apartment to go grocery shopping yesterday afternoon. She’d agreed to pick up a carton of milk for the old lady who lived down the hall. She never reached the market. But they’d found no one who’d seen anything suspicious. Short of a house-to-house search, if the lab boys didn’t find something in that photo, Mac was going to die. How had Palmer snatched her? Was she in DC or Boston? Or was it all a scam?
He was momentarily surprised when a dank cold enveloped him; it was warm for Halloween. But he just shivered and continued on worrying about Mac.
:: :: :: ::
Boarded Up Mansion
Georgetown
November 1 – 0100 Hours
"Damn it!" Palmer cried. "I tried! The stupid son-of-a-bitch ignored me!"
"Sure you did." Mac glared at him. She was really getting tired. Her feet barely touched the floor and her arms hurt from being stretched over her head. She was freezing, damn it! The goose bumps on her skin were damn near the size of her nipples, which were hard from the cold. But then she couldn’t remember the last time they’d been hard from anything else. She definitely didn’t want to think about that right now. "Why don’t you go to Harm?"
"Because I can only go so far and it was Webb walking along the street."
She’d fought the idea that Palmer a ghost; he was good at mind games. But she had to admit the evidence was damned compelling. He’d touched her and that was enough to prove the point; the cold had invaded her very soul. That and the fact that he’d actually tried to help her and couldn’t. "Some ghost you are!" she snarled. "What was Webb doing walking along the street?" she added, screwing up her face in confusion.
Palmer glared at her. "You know what you are MacKenzie? You’re a stuck up bitch; oblivious to everything around you!"
"Excuse me! What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Though they really weren’t there, Palmer covered his ears. He truly expected to see Rod Serling step out and begin the monologue from the Twilight Zone. This sure as hell was nobody’s idea of heaven. "What was Webb doing out there? Looking for you! He’s in love with you!"
Mac cocked her head. It felt rather good and she began to rotate it, working some more kinks out. It also gave her time to think. "Webb? Webb doesn’t love me. What makes you say that?" she said shyly.
Palmer threw up his ghostly arms in surrender. "Never mind!" He ran from the room and found himself on the street outside the mansion again. He couldn’t continue on like this. He had to get someone to find her. The Old One had firmly pointed out that if Mac died in that basement, she would be tied to Palmer for all of eternity. No matter what he’d done in his life, he didn’t deserve that kind of abuse! He didn’t even want to contemplate what she’d be like dead. He’d always been a loner and if the Old One wasn’t just pulling a cosmic joke on him with the details of his atonement, then he sure as shit didn’t want a partner – definitely not MacKenzie!
Mac struggled some more. She pulled herself up, bumping her head as she tried get into a different position. What the hell was Palmer talking about? Clayton Webb in love with her? No way. He was snide and obnoxious. Okay and he was lovable — and cute in an uptight kind of way. And, okay, she had noticed that stubborn lock of hair. She’d even wondered what he would do if she caressed it back into place.
She was rather proud of the fact that she could swing up and grab the pipe with her legs. And while it didn’t take the pressure off her arms, it did feel good to flex some of her muscles. Damned pre-war construction! The pipe was cast iron and it was never going to budge. She sighed as she remembered watching Palmer try and pick up the key that rested on the table in the middle of the room. She grinned evilly as she realized how much the sound of her voice grated on his ghostly hearing. "A ghost! Clark Palmer a ghost and he can’t even haunt Harm!" It hurt to laugh and she knew that she was going to die of thirst before Palmer could get anyone’s attention. She didn’t want to contemplate why she could see and hear him perfectly and no one else could.
Lowering her body, she stretched out her legs toward the table. If she could just pull it closer, she could stand on it. It would help a little. "Please. Someone find me."
:: :: :: ::
Outside Mac’s Apartment
Georgetown
November 1 – 0300 Hours
Clark Palmer stood directly in front of Webb, waved his arms and screamed. "You stupid bastard! See me!"
"Who’s there?" Webb shook his head and looked around for the source of the whisper that he’d being hearing ever since he stopped to stare up at Mac’s darkened window three hours ago, looking for divine inspiration.
And, all the while it had been impotently trying to get his attention.
Palmer was at the end of his rope. "Please! Don’t let her die! I don’t want to be dead with her!"
Webb slowly surveyed everything around him. "What the hell?" he muttered as a pale mist seemed to coalesce to float about three feet in front of him. He reached out to touch it, but it backed away just a bit. He stepped closer, but it moved, again, just a bit. "No way."
"Come on! You dickhead!" It was going to take all night at this rate, but it was the best Palmer could do. Just mastering this much ghostly talent was exhausting. However, he knew he’d do everything it took to get Webb to where Mac waited. "Come on, you son-of-a-bitch. You can do it."
Webb felt like a complete idiot following... whatever it was he was following. He tried to see a source for the mist. Tried to remember if the CIA tech boys had been playing with anything like what he was seeing. "I do not believe in ghosts!" But something deep inside him was telling him that not only did he believe but that this particular ghost would lead him to where he needed to go.
"Palmer?" he forced himself to ask. He refused to consider that the ghost (if indeed it was a ghost) could be Mac.
Surprisingly, the mist seemed to solidify a bit more. It was nothing recognizable, but it was enough to prove to Webb that this was no stray wisp of sewer gas.
Palmer was shocked at the surge of energy that rocked him. He paused and glared at Webb, but again, when Webb reached out to grab him, he moved, even faster than before.
Webb was running, determined to keep the mist in sight. When it disappeared inside an old boarded up mansion just two blocks from Mac’s place, Webb didn’t hesitate. "Sarah?" he yelled. Even though he heard nothing, he knew he was on the right track.
Finally, beneath the back part of the porch, down two debris-covered steps, he found the storm cellar door. Old and rotten, it easily gave way under his kick. Slowly, he made his way down five more stone steps. The interior door was sturdier, it took several muttered oaths and two sharp kicks before it gave way.
The basement cellar was dark and dank and he had to slap away the cobwebs. His penlight showed that no one had come this way. Suddenly, he felt foolish. "This is stupid! No one’s been down her for years!" He turned around to leave.
"Oh for God’s sake!" Palmer’s screech of panic finally broke through the ether that protected the living from the souls of the dead.
Webb spun around, his gun in his hand, to find himself face-to-face with the very solid form of Clark Palmer. "You’re dead!" he gasped out.
"No shit! Tell me something I don’t know."
Webb gulped. "I do not believe in..."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just go and get her before I end up tied to her for all of eternity!"
"What the hell?"
"You got that right, buddy boy! Hell! Eternal damnation!" Palmer’s form dissolved then reformed. "I don’t get it, okay. But you gotta save her or I’ll be stuck here – with her – forever."
Webb couldn’t help but express the desire that he’d kept carefully hidden. "And that would be bad?"
"For me! Maybe not for you." Palmer sighed and moved deeper into the basement.
Even though every bit of his training screamed that it could be a trap, Webb followed. They came to the stairs leading down from the upper floors. Now Webb could see signs where Palmer — when he was alive – had disturbed the dust and the cobwebs. "Hell of a thing!" Palmer said as he pointed to another staircase leading even deeper into the earth. "The key’s on that nail there."
"What’s a hell of a thing?" Webb demanded. But as he hurried down the steps he heard no answer. Unlocking the door at the bottom of the stairs, he pushed it open to find the room in the picture. A low wattage bulb swung on a bare wire. He vaguely registered the overturned table and wine racks. "Mac?" The picture had been grainy and dark; the reality seemed to glow in the dim light.
"Webb!" Sarah sighed in relief. She wasn’t going to die after all. Damn, he looked good standing there. Damn good. "How’d you find me?"
He holstered the gun and stepped into the room, righting the table and moving it out of his way as he did. "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you."
"It was Palmer wasn’t it? You saw him."
He nodded, but said nothing. He didn’t know where to look. He knew he should cover her up, shoot the chains off, anything to protect her, but he was mesmerized by the erotic picture she made hanging there: her lips parted, her breasts jutting out; the dark vee at the top of her glorious legs. Forget beautiful, she was every dark fantasy that he had only admitted to in his dreams.
Her eyes met his and the embarrassed blush on his cheeks softened the frank desire in his eyes. Safe now, she took a certain satisfaction that the tingling feeling of fatigue in her arms had evolved into something more pleasant and had moved down into her stomach. Lowering her eyes, she couldn’t help but grin at the tenting in his slacks.
He expected her to say something snide about his inability to control his reaction. Instead, when she lifted her eyes again he saw one eyebrow cocked in frank appraisal of him, as if she might approved of his obvious sexual reaction to her.
He pulled his eyes away from her taut, firm, perfect, naked, body. "Keys!" he snapped, looking at the ring still clutched in his hand. "None of these look like they’ll fit," he added more softly.
Mac hid her smile. She knew he was trying hard to maintain his control. But she decided she didn’t want him in control. "It was on the table." She gave a pout. "But when I tried to pull it closer so I could stand on it, I tipped it over." She heaved a dramatic sigh — the effect on him was quite satisfactory. His erection surged against his wool slacks.
"Did he hurt you?" Webb snarled releasing some of his anger but, unfortunately, little of his desire.
"No…Clay."
Had she ever called him by his first name before? He looked everywhere but at her. "Did you see where the key went?"
"Sorry." She paused and then coyly added, "Don’t tell me, 007, that you can’t pick a simple little handcuff lock."
Dear God! She was flirting with him. After everything she’d been through. Hanging there. Looking so damn good! And, she hadn’t even asked about Rabb. He longed to adjust his aching cock, but he just arched his eyebrow and managed one of his patented smirks. "Sure... Sarah. I can do that." He shed his overcoat and looked from it to her. "I’d try to wrap it around you, but, uhm..." he struggled for a valid reason to not cover her up. "…it’s double-breasted and it wouldn’t stay up."
"S’kay," she purred. "I’m kind of warm anyway." As he pulled out a small case, Mac considered the man before her. That one lock of hair kissed his forehead as he bent his head searching for the correct pick. He really was rather cute. The dull ache in the pit of her stomach spread to a more intimate locale. ‘God, you’re such a slut!’ she thought, but that didn’t dim her desire one bit. Clayton Webb had found her. Not Harm. She knew she would have to ask about her friend and partner — but not now. Now she licked her lips in anticipation of what was happening between them. "Clay?"
There was a confused hungry look on his face; sexy and endearing. "Give me a second. I’m looking!"
Oh he was looking all right. She gave him a small pout. "I’m really thirsty. There was a bottle of water on the table too. It rolled over there."
He looked behind him and went to pick it up. "I can’t believe he tortured you like that, leaving the bottle where you could see it. I’m glad the bastard’s dead."
"I am too, but..."
"But?" He wiped the dust and cobwebs off on his slacks.
"He was so pathetic," she said. "And, yet..."
Webb opened the half empty bottle. "Don’t tell me you’re making excuses for him."
"No. It was almost funny, that’s all. He was so frustrated being a ghost. He kept saying he didn’t want to be stuck throughout eternity with me. I’m afraid that was my fault. I was rather shrill with him."
"He deserved it!" Webb said with feeling.
"I know. He tried to let me go. But, he couldn’t pick up the key. Then he tried to push the table over so I could take the weight off my arms but he just walked right through it. He looked so silly trying to pick up the water bottle. That’s when I really accepted that he was a ghost and not just jerking my chain. Oh!" she said excitedly. "That’s why he said he took me. He was just wanting to jerk Harm’s chain." She looked longing at the bottle in his hand. "I’m really thirsty."
Webb held the bottle to her lips and told himself that he was just steadying her when he cupped the back of her head. He was fascinated by the way her throat muscles flexed as she swallowed – he couldn’t keep from thinking that there was something else he’d like her to swallow. ‘Webb, you’re a real pig!’ he thought. But then, one lone drop of water escaped her mouth. It hung from her chin for just a moment then dropped to land on the very tip of her erect nipple. He ached to catch the drop with his tongue.
Mac held her breath, willing him to touch her, to kiss her, but he stepped back to find the pick. "This should do it." He reached up, met her gaze and then walked behind her. "I can see better from back here."
His breath was hot against her neck and the fabric of his suit caressed her sensitized skin. She was so wet for him that her arousal scented the air. She couldn’t help it; she rocked back, increasing the contact until she could feel the hard ridge of his erection press against her ass.
"Stop it!" he whispered hoarsely. "Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me here?"
She twisted around to meet his heated gaze. "What?" she demanded, her voice husky with desire.
He left the pick in the lock and dragged his hands down her arms until he cupped her face. "God forgive me, but I want you. Just like this. You’re my every fantasy come to life. Never have I seen anything sexier."
Her eyes grew wide. No one had ever talked to her like this. Nothing she’d experienced before had prepared her for the intensity in his eyes. "Clay?" She tried to move closer, but he held her still as if arguing with himself. "Please?"
His kiss was brutal, hard and demanding. She gasped at the incredible wave of passion that flowed through and out of her, dripping down her thighs. He took the opening and plunged his tongue deep inside her mouth groaning at just how good it felt to have her suck on any part of him. As he began to map her body, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him close so she could wantonly grind her sex against the wool of his jacket. "Clay, oh Clay, please don’t stop."
Her full breasts with their pebbled nipples begged for his touch. Rolling the peaks between his fingers, he watched in awe as she threw back her head in utter ecstasy. "Never in my wildest dreams, Sarah."
"Please Clay!" she cried out and he released one nipple to further explore.
"So soft," he murmured as he lost himself in the simple act of stoking her silky belly. Each hitch of her breath rippled across her skin. Her soft curls sparked from the moisture seeping from her. He gently found her clit, swollen, begging for his attention.
"Clay!"
"I’m so close, Sarah. Hearing you beg, hearing you say my name, it’s too much." He stepped back enough to gain deeper access. His fingers traced her labia. He longed to taste her, but all he could do was hold her as she jerked and bucked, driving his fingers deep inside of her. Her hands gripped the handcuff chains and even in his dazed lust, he tried to give her as much slack as he could.
When she’d calmed down, he moved closer to embrace her, kissing the sweat from her skin. "I’ve never seen anything so incredible in my life," he whispered.
"Nice," she purred. But then she nailed him with a steely stare. "Let me down now."
He was grateful that the pick had lodged in the lock. Quickly he freed her. From her tone he almost expected her to pull away in embarrassment but she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him soundly. "Let me massage these muscles for you," he offered, squeezing her tired arms.
"Later." She gave him a smirk that rivaled one of his best. "There’s a different…muscle I want to massage." She was surprisingly steady on her feet as she pushed him back until his ass rested against the table.
"What?" he laughed when she began to attack his suit coat.
"One of us is rather overdressed," she said as she jerked his coat down his arms, capturing them. While he tugged his arms free, she set to work on his vest and shirt. "Jesus, is it snowing outside!" she grumbled as his undershirt was revealed. Quickly, he pulled everything off in one graceful sweep. Before his clothes hit the floor, she was running her hands over his chest. "Oh my! Very nice, Clay, " she purred.
He pulled her to him, demanding a long delving kiss. Their tongues mated while she ran her fingers over his fevered skin. He didn’t stop her when she broke the kiss to slowly sink down, trailing her tongue over his torso pausing to nibble at his nipples.
He tried to pull her next to him to recline on the table. "Sarah! Please baby."
"Hush. It’s my turn." She was already working his pants down; the zipper grazed against his cock. "This won’t do at all," she said as she knelt before him, protecting her knees on his thousand-dollar over coat. He didn’t care if it was ruined or not. He tried to lift his feet to kick away his clothes, but she roughly ran her hands over his thighs, holding him still. She boldly met his glazed expression and waited.
He combed her hair with his fingers. "Please, Sarah," he said even as he guided her lips to his cock. She seemed content to lick and tease just the head at first. However she didn’t resist as he pulled her closer, thrusting to get more of her wondrous mouth where he wanted it. "I’ve wanted this for years," he admitted.
She released him to sit back on her haunches to consider him. Her smirk was knowing but still the sexiest thing he could ever imagine. "You’ve thought about me sucking your cock?"
The words on her lips tightened his balls. "Yes!" he hissed. But he didn’t reach out for her again. He waited.
"I don’t suppose you have a condom in your wallet?" she said just before licking up a drop of pre-cum from his slit.
His groan sounded more haunting to her than anything that Palmer had achieved in his most frustrated attempts to frighten her. "Do you honestly think that I ever imagined that I would find you and end up doing this?" He took a deep calming breath and managed to add hopefully, "But I’ve got a whole box back at my place."
"Oh well." Her grin was beatific and he reached out to help her stand, but she slapped his hands away and resumed caressing his thighs. Lowering her mouth to his cock again, she blew across the head, then laved and kissed down his shaft until she reached his balls. Taking them into her mouth she gently sucked on them.
"Sarah!" He cried out the warning and then she sealed his fate forever. Before the cum could boil out of his balls, she pulled back and engulfed him, drawing him all the way into her throat. One thrust and he saw white as he came harder than he could ever remembered doing before. His knees buckled and it was all he could do to grip the side of the table and not fall on his face.
When he could form a coherent thought again, he found her sitting on his coat, resting her head against his thigh. "I think Rabb might be right," he whispered.
She sat up to wait for an explanation.
"He said I was in love with you. Though how he knew is beyond me. I’ve tried to hide my feelings from everyone, including myself."
"Why?" she asked softly.
"Because, before tonight, I thought I didn’t have a chance with you."
"Oh." She sighed and pushed off the ground. "You mean you thought I was in love with Harm? That he and I were destined to be together?"
Instead of answering immediately, he helped her stand, pulled up his pants and then began searching for his suit coat and shirt. "You can wear my overcoat if you want. I’ll call a cab for us."
"I think Palmer put my clothes in the corner over there." But before he could escape, she traced her finger down his naked back. "Answer me, Clay?"
He shuddered at her touch, but managed to walk over to the neat stack of clothes resting on one of the racks. While she used his handkerchief and the rest of the bottle of water to clean up, he considered her question. "I see the way you are together, and I suppose that’s a part of it. But, the truth is, my job is demanding."
"And mine’s not?" she said calmly, handing him the damp cloth.
"Of course it is. But I’ve been known to disappear for weeks on end. Can you handle that?"
"If you can let me know you’re going to be gone — even a voice mail if you can’t reach me." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Come up with a code, spook."
He gave her a relieved smile. "I can do that!"
Once they were dressed, he looked at her almost shyly. "What now?"
"Well, first and foremost I want a nice long bath. Then I could really use a back rub."
"I have a whirlpool tub and I know where’s there’s a twenty-four hour sex shop that sells massage oils."
"The Pleasure Palace? Oh they sell lots more than that!" she said with a wicked smile on her face.
"Colonel MacKenzie, this is definitely the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
"Indeed, Agent Webb. And tell me, what other old movies to do you like?"
As he led her upstairs, he laughed. "I have an extensive DVD collection."
"Naughty movies, Clay?"
He looked back at her. "Not yet, Sarah, but if you play your cards right, we can make a few of our own."
"Sir, you are no gentleman!" She purred in a perfect imitation of Scarlett O’Hara.
"Well, its an odd thing to have in common, but it’s a start," he said happily.
Once they were outside, he reached into his coat pocket and handed her his phone. "Call Harm and let him know you’re okay."
"He’s going to want the whole story," she whined even as she was dialing the number. However, when Clay stepped back to give her some privacy, she clung to him. "Harm?…I’m fine. Palmer didn’t hurt me…No, Clay found me…That’s okay…I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m tired and there’s a shower in my immediate future…What?…But…Oh, fine." She rolled her eyes, but handed Webb the phone.
"Hello?" He suspected he was busted but he refused to give anything away.
"How’d you find her?" Harm demanded.
Before he could answer, he felt Sarah stiffen. Looking at her with concern, he saw she was looking behind him. Turning, he found Clark Palmer, almost solid in the moonlight, standing not too far from them. The look on his face was one of pure disgust. Clay kept his groan to himself and returned to Harm. "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you."
"Where was she?" Harm said.
"Two streets away from her apartment. I’m taking her home. She wants to shower then go to bed."
The silence on the other end stretched out until Webb thought Rabb had hung up. But finally a long sigh caressed his ear. "Take care of her, Clay."
Webb gave her a relieved smile. "As long as she’ll let me."
"Tell her to call me tomorrow."
"You got it." Clay closed the phone and turned his attention to the ghost in front of them. "This is too strange. What the hell do you want? And, while you’re just standing there looking rather pale, tell me why you helped her?"
Palmer sighed. "You’ve no concept of what hell really is." A cold chill seemed to surround them and all they could feel was never-ending regret and sorrow. Their earlier euphoria seemed to leach from them and Webb considered his own guilty conscience.
Suddenly, Sarah stepped in between the ghost and her lover. "Go away, Palmer!"
And he did.
"How’d you do that?" Webb demanded as they walked away from the old mansion.
She glanced sideways at him. Wrapping her arm around his waist she laughed softly. "Just remember when you piss me off that even the dead are afraid of me."
He stopped and turned her so he could kiss her again. Wrapping her in his embrace he moved his lips to her ear. "I promise to try to never piss you off."
Still invisible, Palmer stood there beside the Old One glaring after the happy lovers. "It’s not fair!" he snarled. "I’m the greatest double agent to ever live! And this is what my afterlife is like? What the hell kind of deal is that? It’s damned diabolical! Besides, if I have to be Harm’s guardian angel, why did I just hand Mackenzie to Webb?"
"Everything in its proper place, Clark," she said softly but firmly.
"But it’s not fair I tell ya!"
"Come along now. You have a great many years ahead of you of keeping Harmon safe."
"It’s not fair!" Palmer insisted just before they vanished, leaving everything the way it was supposed to be.
~~~Fini~~