This work of adult fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned.  No copyright infringement on the original work is intended.  Copyright Diana Walker 2007.




February 2008
 
DIANA
Since Henry left, I’ve been restless. 
 
Jack has even picked up on it.  I was sitting on him, waiting my turn for a spot in the covered arena to open up.  The weather’s been cold, foggy, and rainy; there’s not been a hint of the glorious spring that ought to be right around the corner.  The covered is the only place with good footing.  The reins were draped across his neck, and I was adjusting my helmet.  That wasn’t the safest thing to do, but we’ve done it often.  He stands there, often napping, never paying attention to what anyone else is doing; he doesn’t care.  He cocks a back foot and slumps with his weight on three feet; the initial weight shift is strong and violent and can throw the unwary rider, me, around in the saddle but not off.  Actually, it’s funny and my own bit of a thrill ride as I won’t get on a roller coaster. 
 
That day, he chose to notice my nerves.  First, he danced from one foot to another.  When I leaned forward to stroke his neck and whisper sweet nothings to reassure him, he lurched forward into the arena, stopped, and shook as if a swarm of flies had landed all over him.  Once the other three riders already working were over their shock, all they could do was laugh.  They’d all been prepared to take decisive, evasive action.  When a horse normally as laid back as Jack does something unusual, you have to be ready, for anything is possible.  With a high-strung horse, you’ve pretty much seen all their antics in their everyday demeanor and know how to avoid the out of control horse.
 
Okie has noticed my mood swing but doesn’t particularly care as long as dinner is on time, and his fair share of loving is forthcoming.  I have noticed his Basenji contemplations come more often.  He waits for me to settle someplace and makes himself comfortable next to me.  Often he will lie down, grab a quick nap, and at my first movement, sit up as if he’s on guard.  Once he determines I’m only readjusting my position is when he goes into his ‘Basenji stare.’ 
 
He doesn’t want anything; he’s not demanding attention.  He just gazes into my eyes.  He does look deeply into my soul, or maybe he’s trying to read my mind.  I believe he thinks deep thoughts about our relationship then; of course the relationship is always viewed from his selfish perspective.  Okie is a very self-centered dog.  Honestly?  I have no idea what my little guy is thinking.
 
Holly is the perceptive one and shows her concern for my new mood by clinging to me.  She wears her heart on her sleeve.  Her ears are perpetually folded these days, and her generally happy go lucky, smiling face is missing even when Terry’s at home.
 
Terry’s the one who gave me the word ‘restless.’  Over dinner one night when he had to draw my attention back to our conversation for the third time, he brought up the dreaded topic.
 
“Lady, what’s bothering you?  You’ve been distracted.”
 
“I have no idea.  It could be an extended case of after holiday blahs, but it seems different.  With Dino and Sooze taking over some of the social obligations, you’d think I’d be thrilled with the extra time.”
 
“They’re willing to continue the social whirl.  Dino says Ellie is eager for the contacts the parties will bring.”
 
“I’m sure she is.  I think eventually she’ll make a run at Dallas DA.”
 
“Sooze is a little less willing, but now that she has her degree and Dolores is more active around school and with her friends, Sooze is a little at loose ends.  She’d like us to attend several of the upcoming events with her until she can get her feet on the ground.  She and Sarah will do fine.
 
“Which brings us back to what’s going on with you.  You’re restless but unproductive.  Too much time on your hands?”
 
At least he didn’t bring up my lack of enthusiasm in our sex life.  “If I could name it, I could fix it.  Allow me the luxury of just calling it restless for a while.”
 
“Take a long shower in the morning.  All your good ideas come then.”
 
 
TERRY
The answer didn’t come in the shower the next morning or any morning after that.  It took a phone call from an unusual place though it had been a long time in coming.
 
Having a bluie with Captain Ryan Bigelow, USN, was not the smartest thing Diana has ever done, but it was the bravest but for choosing to throw her lot in with me.  Diana had overridden every fear she ever had to love me.  When we met she’d already given up on love, on anyone ever caring more about her than he did himself.  I’ve heard of a person being a glass half-empty type, always said with a negative connotation.  Diana’s glass was half-empty, but her life was full.
 
Her surface, unflagging optimism covered her self-doubt until her actions took root in her soul; she acted her way into having confidence that my love for her was real.  I can’t be hard on her as I hid from her for a very long time as well.  I’ve always wanted her to know how much I love her, but I wanted to show her more than tell her.  I never have told her that the one thing in my life I fear more than anything else in the world is losing her.

Diana’s been my rock since the day I met her.  Life with her has always been easy.  She soldiered through the ‘in sickness’ and held me up when I almost lost my business.  Her gentle nagging made establishing a tangible link with Henry possible.
 
I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me that the reason she took on Biggie was TEO and me and points out another of her contradictions.  Since we’ve been together, I’ve seen her easy-going nature allow people to walk all over her until she’s had enough; then she simply disappears from them.  At the very hint of anything negatively affecting TEO or me, Diana is ready to go to war, even when it was me she was battling.  War, on any front, is the most engaging of ventures.
 
Since the conclusion of her Argentine adventure, we’ve heard very little of what was happening in her department at the Pentagon.  She’d received no phone calls for assignments; that surprised neither one of us.  One cannot argue with a naval captain and expect no repercussions.  What did surprise me was the length of time that Biggie held his grudge.
 
TEO had received several contracts from the Pentagon over that same amount of time.  The troop commitment for the war in Iraq and the American strategy of relying on reserve troops to fight that war had stretched military personnel to their very limit.  Basic military functions in the war zone have been let to DoD contractors, the main beneficiary being Halliburton.  Certainly, the monitoring and auditing functions required at bases round the country were also being handled by individual, independent contractors – just not Diana.
 
Several phone calls from her Argentine crew over the years have delighted her. 
 
“Have you a new boyfriend?”  I’d listened to the messages we’d received whilst out on the town one night.  “Is Todd Maxwell someone who ought to concern me?”
 
She walked to where I was sitting on the edge of the bed and stood between my legs, looking down on me with her hands on my shoulders.  Her wrinkled brow was either deep confusion or dread.
 
I smoothed the furrows away with my fingertips until she smiled.  “Todd was with me in Argentina.  He’s entirely too young for me.  So no, you needn’t worry about him or any other man.  You’ve spoiled me, and you’re stuck with me.
 
“He did remind me of you.  His intelligence, his earnestness, and something about his smile, but he’s only a faint copy of you.”
 
“You know just what to say to me.”  I buried my face in her belly and felt when she stepped out of her heels; my face slid up her dress.  I reached for her zipper and began the happy task of undressing a most beautiful woman.  Diana reached behind her and stopped my progress; her hands on mine re-zipped her dress.  I looked up her body to her face, imagining the lacy nothings and smooth skin her little black dress covered.
 
I swallowed my groan of frustration at her tease when I saw how her face had clouded over once again.  “This isn’t good, Terry.  We weren’t supposed to acknowledge each other after the team broke up.”
 
“Be realistic, Lady.  If he’s too young for you, he’s not old enough to be in a position to recall you.  He called well after business hours.  Perhaps the security restrictions have been lifted.”  I hoped to God that my rationalisations were correct.
 
She began reaching for the answerphone.  “Let me hear his voice.  It was always his tell.  He was always so much better at listening than speaking.  It’s good he’s with NSA.”
 
I trapped her arms against her sides, fell to my right onto the bed with her in my arms, and reached over her to play Todd’s message.  Her giggle at my foolishness forced us to listen to Todd again.
 
“That’s another reason why there’s nothing sinister about this phone call.  You’re assigned to the Navy, and he’s NSA.  No jurisdiction.”
 
Diana listened intently to Todd’s nondescript message; he left his name and phone number.  “Nothing, it tells me nothing.  Maybe he’s been to training, and he’s gotten better at disguising the excitement in his voice.”
 
“It’s one o’clock in the morning in Washington.  Call him tomorrow.”
 
 
Todd Maxwell, formerly NSA, is no longer a collector of data.  Toddie boy has changed agencies; he’s now with the Company.  That’s what prompted his first enigmatic phone call.  He’d called Diana for career counseling.
 
Diana had allowed him to put together pieces of the puzzle; he liked it – a lot.  He now felt under-utilised tweaking antennas and repositioning satellites for optimum gain.  Though movement between NSA and CIA was unusual, Diana coached him through what to say to make it happen.
 
The transfer also brought up other complications.  Jennifer and he had already disclosed their relationship in their security questionnaires; that was mandatory.  The Company wasn’t thrilled that two analysts were living together; Diana was elated.  She wanted the best for Todd.  After working with both of them, she thought Jen and Toddie boy were a good match.
 
Todd and Jen became another set of eyes and ears on the Washington social scene.  They were the ones who informed us about Biggie’s retirement.  They’d received an invitation to the reception; Diana hadn’t.
 
 
April 2008
 
DIANA
Buck and I were on a leisurely stroll through the woods.  I was contemplating why I was so down; Buck was contemplating the sparse foliage.  Our moods matched the dreary weather.  This has been the wettest late winter and early spring I’ve seen in years; it’s rained every day for weeks.  Junior and I’ve been run ragged cleaning mud out of horses’ hooves.  Cleaning feet is easier than doctoring thrush, however.      
 
I knew I was numb, and I was starting to figure out why.  Everyone I know has a job to go to, a set routine.  As soon as Ems was older, Reags will be going back to teaching at the University.  Yes, running a boarding stable is a job and has its own schedule, but it seems so frivolous.  I’m too young to be retired and doing whatever I pleased.  I need to go back to work.
 
Biggie was gone, and I don’t know who has taken his place.  Mac’s in line to step up, but he may have already gotten his promotion and assigned to a different command.  I still have my security tags that had once allowed me entrance to almost anywhere in the Pentagon locked in the safe.  For all I know, I’m still on the payroll, and they’re still valid.  My last meeting with Biggie was so tense I forgot to offer him my badge, and he didn’t ask for it.  I don’t even know whom to call to find out where to go for my security exit briefing to get rid of the damn things.  I’m sure no one in Dallas had a high enough clearance to be able to handle me.
 
Buck is thrilled to get back to his buds and their round bale.  I’m excited to get back in the house and clean up.  I finally check messages after a long, hot shower, and my fingernails are no longer packed with mud.  It’s Mac.
 
I dial the number he left and am somewhat surprised to hear, “Captain McKinnon’s office.”
 
I immediately snap into a more formal tone than I’d been planning; the last time I’d talked to a Naval Captain, disrespect had gotten me this long layoff.  Another indiscretion might get me thrown into Leavenworth as Biggie had threatened.  “Diana Walker calling for …” I’m at a loss for words as to what to call him.
 
The yeoman rescues me.  “Oh, yes, Ms. Walker.  Captain McKinnon is expecting your call.”
 
“McKinnon here.”  He sounds like a higher pitched version of Terry.
 
The ‘Mac’ slips out before I can stop myself.  “I’m sorry, Captain.”
 
“Apology accepted, but none was needed.  After all, that’s all you knew me by for a long time when you were my boss.”  His laughter assures me I’m not facing jail time.
 
“Congratulations on your promotion.  What are you doing these days?”
 
“Why don’t you come to Washington, and let me tell you about it?  At your convenience, of course.”
 
“That would be great.  I can turn in my badge.”
 
“Why don’t you keep it until after our meeting?  Talk to my yeoman and arrange a time.  You caught me running off to a meeting.”
 
“That’s what Captains do.  See you in a few days.  Oh, and Mac?  Thanks for calling.”
 
 
“Beer or Scotch?”  I surprise Terry with my rehearsed opening and my greeting at the front door. 
 
“You haven’t asked that in a long time.”  He looks at the good china on the dining room table set for two, and his eyes gleam with anticipation.  “Would I be so fortunate that you’re seducing me tonight?”
 
“Probably.”  His hope wanes but not all of his interest.
 
“If it’s not a sure thing, I’ll chance the Scotch though my day was boring.  What’s up?”
 
He releases me, ready for his Scotch, but I’m not prepared to let him go yet.  I have no idea how he’ll react to what I have to say.  He pushes me away just enough so he can look into my face.  “Lady, just tell me.  One of the things I love is once you start, you charge right in.”
 
I immediately make a liar out of him by hesitating and then stutter through my first improvised statement.  “I …know …what’s been …bothering me, …and I don’t think …you’ll like the solution.”
 
“Well, then.”  He takes in a deep breath.  “Let’s talk about it over dinner.”  I see his Adam’s apple bob twice before we separate and take the few steps from the front door to the dining room still wrapped around each other.
 
I’d only rehearsed the beer/Scotch line.  I have the topics I want to cover in the approximate order in my head, but from here on in, I’m winging the specifics.  I hope I don’t have many ill-advised word choices in me tonight.  Now that he’s mentioned it, my libido has lifted.  I truly would like an energetic night of loving or making up to him, depending on how the dinner conversation goes. 
 
“The Hawthorne.  It’s not enough anymore, Boomer.  I love watching you get ready to go to work in the morning, and that’s the problem.  Everybody goes to work; I walk out the back door.”  I watch the precision he takes slicing into his chicken.  Thank God it’s a dull knife with small serrations and not a steak knife; the chance of an accidental human cut drops exponentially.  Terry’s working hard to control his emotions.  “Do you want to yell at me?”
 
“You’ve not told me much.  I don’t believe I’ve ever raised my voice to you.”  I nod quickly, deciding now is not the time to derail the conversation to when he had yelled at me and how frustrated he’d been with me at the time.  “I won’t start now.” 
 
He lays down his knife and fork, pushes his plate away, and does the same to mine.  “Perhaps having this discussion over dinner wasn’t such a good idea.”
 
When we eat in the dining room and it’s just the two of us, Terry sits at the head of the table, and I’m very close to him on the side.  It’s a small symbol of my respect for him, but the first time I did put him at the head, his ego was so stroked.  We still sit close enough that our knees brush and touch to punctuate points in our conversation.  Often we’re eating one-handed with our hands locked together to ward off Okie; I’d felt this conversation was important enough that I’d banished both of the dogs outside.  Even though we don’t need to establish a perimeter tonight, Terry takes my hands, tracing the bones in them with his thumbs.  He is looking into my soul through my eyes.  He has no idea how much more nervous he’s making me.  He’s adding a layer of sexual tension to my ‘serious conversation’ nerves.
 
“Lady, you need to tell me more.  Some insight into your thought process on your part is in order.”
 
“Taking care of horses for bored housewives seems somehow frivolous.  I suppose I’m making sure that the SPCA doesn’t have extra horses on their hands; I know they’re receiving good care here.  I don’t even mind cleaning tack or stalls.”  The look on Terry’s face tells me I’d have to be more truthful than that.
 
“OK, I don’t mind it much, but coddling the human prima donnas seems so … unimportant.  I can almost feel my brain shriveling.  TEO does such important work; Reags teaches; Ellie’s an attorney.
 
“I’m making an excellent living so it’s not the money.  Thanks to you I didn’t have to lay out a penny for the transportation; a new truck and trailer cost a lot.”  I lift my right hand to his cheek; I love that six o’clock shadow.  He leans into my hand and presses it closer with his.  I feel his jaw release.  It’s the only release he’s managed so far; he’s coiled and physically ready for anything I might have to say.
 
“I have to play eeney, meenie, mineie, Moe to decide which tractor to use on a given day, not to mention which horse to ride.  I have absolutely everything material I could possibly want.  I feel like I’m in ‘gimme’ mode around here.  I want to give something back, other than keeping pampered women out of society’s hair for a few hours every day.  I need to get back to an office environment before I can’t.  My skills are becoming obsolete and extinct even as we speak.  What do you think about me going back to work?”
 
His question is gentle.  “What happened to you traveling with me?  With Henry’s imminent arrival, you missed the grand tour I made of the US.”
 
“I was thinking that I’d start off with temp jobs to test the employment market.  I can work and learn newer techniques in real time situations.  If you’re making a short notice trip, you wouldn’t want me along.  I could still meet you at the end of one of those.  On the dates of your planned trips, I simply wouldn’t accept an assignment so I can travel with you.”
 
“Are you sure you could find something you like by temping?  I’ve only seen clerical positions with agencies.  That would be a waste of your talents.”
 
“No more a waste than what I’m doing with them right now.  I have too much free time; it’s accumulated over the years, and it’s driving me crazy.  I want your New Year’s resolution to succeed.  Remember, I’m the one who first brought up us spending more time together, but I need to be a more interesting woman when we are.

“Reags is craving adult conversation.  I’m craving more, human conversations and interactions; let’s face it, I spend most of my time with four-footed creatures.  Junior and I are normally at opposite ends of the property working.  When we’re together, we’re discussing barn matters.  I used to look forward to that.  It added zest to my life.  It wasn’t the only thing I could discuss.”
 
Terry takes my hand from his cheek and sits back in his chair, breaking all contact and distancing himself from me.  His reaction does not bode well for my plans.  I flash back to his once saying that when we were arguing he’d have to walk away from me, but he’d promised he wouldn’t leave the room.  This looks like the situation he’d described.
 
I can use silence with the best of them, and Terry is the best.  He looks like he’s considering my words.  I’d had my say; all I can do now is wait.
 
Eventually, he starts talking in a measured cadence.  “I’ve rather fancied your being here every evening when I get home.  From a purely selfish perspective, I like the creature comforts your running The Hawthorne provides.  You can drop everything at a moment’s notice on one of my whims.  I like you having extra time.
 
“I know I can’t fulfill your every need.  You worked when I met you.  We made our living arrangements successful then; we’ll manage again.  May I make a request?”
 
“Terry, you can make demands.  I’m not asking permission from you, but I want both of us to be comfortable with my future work.”
 
His face softens.  “I’d like for you to have a flexible schedule.  I’d hate to give up my car service to the airport.”
 
When the hell did that wetness develop at the corner of my eyes?  Terry sees it and reconnects with me when he dries my eyes with his thumbs.
 
“Flexible schedule will be the first words out of my mouth in any interview.”
 
We meet halfway to seal the deal.
 
“Anyways, I won’t be interviewing until sometime next week.  I’ll need to spiff up my resume, and Mac McKinnon called today.  He wants to see me in DC later this week.”  Terry looks baffled; my inclusion of two totally unrelated subjects has caught him again or Mac’s last name threw him.  He’ll make the mind leap quickly on the subject matter, but I’m not sure he ever knew Mac’s last name. 
 
“Mac.  My driver and protector in DC?  The guy I slept with for six weeks or so?”
 
Recognition is beginning.  I wish I hadn’t kidded him about sleeping with Mac.  I’ve pushed Terry’s white picket fence and ‘little woman waiting at home’ fantasy a long way tonight without giving him much time to digest it.

"He’s recalling you?  Why are you thinking about finding a temp job here in Dallas then?”
 
“No, he’s not offering me a job.  He wants to talk to me in Washington, at my convenience.  He’s not going to fire me over the phone.  That would be tacky.  He’ll do it in person.  That way they have my signature on all of the out-processing documents, and they can throw me in jail if I talk out of school some time in the future.”
 
Terry reaches behind him for his laptop and opens it on the table.  Once his calendar comes up, he asks, “And when are we going to DC?”
 
I look at him with as much astonishment and distaste as I had when he offered to take me to a doctor’s appointment.  “You want to go with me when I’m being fired?  I’ve never had a termination so clearly telegraphed to me before; I’ll be fine.  Is this payback for bringing up the sleeping arrangements at the safe house?”
 
“I know quite well you were joking about Mac and you, and I’m glad he was so protective of you.
 
“You’re taking the first trip where we both can travel in this year.  We always seem to manage to do things arse backwards.  I’d envisioned you traveling on one of my business trips.”  He shrugs.  “Instead, I’m traveling on one of yours.  We’ll celebrate at La Chaumiere.”
 
 
CAPTAIN DAVID ‘MAC’ McKINNON
My promotion to Captain and taking over Captain Bigelow’s prior command of the Office of Technical Oversight happened the day after his terminal leave began.  I had people around the world, though the majority of them are at bases in the States, and flew three weeks straight on every type of military aircraft to meet and greet every one of them.  After hearing all the briefings from my people, the magnitude of my job became clear.  Captain Bigelow had actually been retired in place for at least 18 months before he left.
 
I hold no illusions like Biggie did that I’ll ever make Admiral.  After I serve my twenty, as soon as I see the fitness reports start to slip, I’ll sever and start law school.  Miri’s almost finished, and we plan on setting up our own law firm specializing in international contract resolution, probably in Tokyo, near her family.
 
Biggie held Diana Walker personally responsible for his being passed over for promotion.  Dee had only been another reason why the brass had given up on him.  Even though I worked closely with Captain Bigelow after the incident and Dee had asked for my help in supervising the TEO operatives, neither one of them had spoken in detail about what happened that day, but the chill between them had been noticeable.  Neither one of them had black eyes or bruised knuckles; apparently the fight had been the more vicious kind – a paper war that Dee had won.
 
If Biggie had been smart, he’d have brought her back in for assignments for his last 18 months in office; he’d kept her on the books as an employee.  Instead, he’d been the typical naval captain, arrogant and powerful, and the office had turned into a cluster fuck without her.  We’d lost all the credibility that Biggie and Dee had created.
 
On my last flight back to Washington, I had some sense of what my command needed; I called Dee the next day.  By the morning of our meeting, I’d figured out how to best utilize her.  It would be unseemly for me to throw myself at her feet and beg her to fix it; I had a plan to present.
 
Dee walks into the office on time.  She’s lost some weight, or maybe I only remember seeing her in her body armor.  She’s in a well-tailored, navy blue suit, her standard uniform for important meetings, but it’s not the one she brought to Washington with her the last time.
 
We stand across the desk from each other until my yeoman leaves us.  Dee's natural good humor is back the instant the door closes.  “I told you you’d be my boss someday!  Congratulations!  Too bad your first act as my boss is to fire me.”
 
She pulls out her pen and asks, “Where do I sign?”
 
“It’s not that easy, Dee.  You haven’t suffered enough yet.”  I utter the magic words for a DoD employee.  She knows she’s in for a shit job.  She groans and laughs in equal measure.
 
“All right, tell me about it.”
 
“The command has increased in billets and grown in scope.  The quality has decreased; these are kids.  Biggie’s got naval lieutenants trying to get information out of Air Force colonels; there are contractors investigating companies where they have stock options.  And none of them know what Admiral Jennings wants.”
 
I give her time to laugh before I summarize.  “A complete reorganization is in order.”
 
“How can I help?”
 
 
TERRY
Bloody hell!  Diana told me she’d be a maximum of thirty minutes for her to sign the papers, and we’d have time for a leisurely drive across the river.  Worse, that was what she told the Pentagon guard who has now asked me to move the rental car next to his guard shack.  I don’t like the way he’s fingering his side arm, and I’m pissed.  I’d called the restaurant twice to change our luncheon reservation.
 
I’ve used my time wisely.  Should Irish, Maxie, and I be forced to storm the Pentagon to rescue her, I have the “A” ring memorised …at least from the outside.  All Diana has to do now is show me behind which window she’s being held hostage.  Easy, peasy.
 
The knock on the window startles me.  “Mr. Thorne?”  As opening the door could be considered a threatening gesture, particularly with my frame of mind right now, I turn the key to run down the window to talk to my personal guard.
 
“Ms. Walker should be another fifteen minutes.”  He hands me the placard for a parking space twelve.  “Sorry for the inconvenience.”  He waves me back to the assigned parking area.
 
Diana has moved up in the world during her meeting.  Assigned Parking Space Twelve is on the front row directly in front of the entrance.  The reassignment would do Diana no good as she had left me in another section of the car park; she’d be looking for her ride elsewhere.
 
Diana’s deep in thought when she exits the building and wouldn’t have seen me but for my call to her.  Her face brightens when she recognises me.  She gives me the smile that is reserved only for me.
 
“I’m sorry I’m so late.  The meeting didn’t go exactly as I’d expected.  I think we need to cancel our return flight and find someplace to spend the night.  We need to talk.”
 
I finally understand the dread Diana feels when I use that sentence to her.  It’s a gut-clinching, nerve-jangling, free-floating anxiety that causes the time, no matter how short or long, before the conversation starts to stretch.
 
“You call the airline whilst I take us to the Willard.  They won’t bat an eye when we stroll in without luggage; they’re used to your Congress.  The staff will be surprised that we actually stay the night.”
 
The drive across the bridge and to the hotel is congested at the best of times.  Today we are rerouted twice for motorcades.  The Willard will be booked.  Once Diana has our flight rebooked for late tomorrow, she dials the Hyatt Regency where we had stayed on our first trip to DC; they have room at the inn.  With our luncheon reservation long past, our best try was room service as Diana was adamant that she would not have this discussion in public.  Diana’s hunger crankiness should not play into what she has to tell me.
 
Once we are in our room, she leads me to the table by the window overlooking the Capitol.  She sits across from me; it’s to be a business meeting then. 
 
“Terry, I want to hear what you have to say on everything I’m going to tell you.  I can’t guarantee I’ll do precisely what you want, but be very clear with me on what is a hard limit for you.”  Her words echo the dinner conversation earlier this week.
 
Oh, Christ.  “The way you phrase that and the fact that you’re not in custody must mean you’ve been recalled, but we do have some options.”
 
“No, I’m not drafted again, but Captain McKinnon has offered me a job.  The first words out of my mouth were ‘flexible schedule.’”
 
“Did he agree?”
 
“Yes, he did.  I’d be his training person and take on the tougher investigations.  He needs me, Terry.  I told him I needed to think about it and talk to you.  That’s why I wanted to spend the night here.  If I take the job, I’ll spend tomorrow updating my files and getting up to speed on the players. 
 
“Here’s the additional terms I’ve already given him.”  She starts ticking off her fingers.  “One, I arrange my own travel, but I carry my own cost.  Two, I bill each job separately; that’s how I’ll recoup the extra cost of flying first class on long-haul flights.  Three, he will never, ever put me in such a morally reprehensible situation as Biggie did.  Four, ….  I think that was on longer-term assignments.  I come home every other week.  What did I miss?”
 
Captain McKinnon already knew she’d throw herself into any work he assigned her; he knew he was getting dedication and excellence on his end of the bargain.  Diana hadn’t asked for anything extravagant; upgrades on flights would make her more productive on landing.
 
“Would you be on per diem?”  At her nod, I suggest, “Ask for O6 privileges.”  At least she can dine at the Officer’s Clubs and have better housing on base if she needs it.  She’ll need to supply less justification for any unusual purchases on her expense reports as well.
 
“Can you live with me taking this job?”
 
“I met you because of your work in this department.  You were auditing and investigating before I came into your life.  This situation is rather like a long-established airport that has homes built up around it.  Most bought because of the proximity.  The residents have no right to complain about airport noise and congestion after they move in.
 
“Diana, you were quite active in this job early on.  We did fine at a time when two careers as demanding as ours might have broken us.  Are you looking to me to find a reason not to take it?”
 
“I don’t think so.”
 
“Do you want to take it?”
 
“I don’t know.”
 
We reach for my laptop and begin our for/against reasoning.  At the end the number of reasons are dead even.  I can see the qualitative arguments fall firmly on Diana continuing her DoD career as a super-consultant.  Diana would need her shower the next morning to come to the same conclusion.
 
 
Diana’s first assignment for Mac is to teach Lieutenant Joshua Fisher how to have a cooperative working relationship with Air Force colonels at Nellis Air Force Base near Las Vegas.  She scheduled two weeks.  God help them all.
 
 
DIANA
I can’t believe Terry hasn’t been to Vegas. 
 
“Diana, my profession has always included taking calculated risks.  I’ve no need for an additional adrenaline rush from gambling.”
 
“Bright lights.  Big city.  Big boobed show girls waiting to be wooed.  Exotic, but tacky, hotels.  Disneyland for adults?”  I give him a staccato burst of reasons to see Vegas once.
 
His rebuttal is just as quick.  “Stars, quiet, you, my own comfortable bedroom with a built-in bar, never fancied amusement parks out of my teens.”
 
He had an answer for each of my reasons why he should go with me to Vegas for at least the first weekend except for one – me.  “If I’m in Vegas and you’re here, how can you be sure my extended stay room across from Nellis is safe?  There might be a floating poker game you’ll need to evict.  Come on, go with me.  It’ll be fun.  You won’t have to go near a casino except to walk through on the way to the restaurants.”
 
He finally breaks into his impish grin and crinkly eyes.  He waves his airline reservation in front of me. 
 
“You rat bastard!  You only wanted to hear me beg.” I laugh out.
 
“You do it so nicely, but that wasn’t your finest effort.  I’ve scheduled a quick trip to Korea, and I’ll be back towards the end of your stay.  We’ll have two weekends together in Sin City.”
 
 
My efficiency apartment across from the Nellis gate is not the sumptuous hotel rooms you can find on the Strip.  In fact I think it’s smaller than my first apartment out of college, and it has an inoperable air conditioner.  It’s stifling in the small space though the desk clerk swears the repairman is expected momentarily.  It will be fine for just me though I’ll be spending all my time in the office as the table is more like one you find in a crowded bar.  Much too small to do any work.
 
The bathroom is so small Terry and I can’t turn around in it at the same time.  I think when I bumped his razor arm was when he made the executive decision.  He banished me from the bath until he was done.  He makes me finish my primping after he’s finished shaving.  This romantic weekend away before I dig into work and he flies off is not starting out well. 
 
He’s dressed and flipping his phone shut when I emerge.  “Pack the weekend kit.  We’re headed to the Mirage.”  Well, the second part of that makes sense.  We’re having dinner there at Onda and then on to one of the Cirque de Soleil shows.  “You’ve talked up all the hotels, and we’re staying in a hovel.  I understand you like it for the proximity to work, but we’re not getting the glitzy Vegas experience.”
 
My lord and master has spoken to his naked slave girl.  I stay naked and put two pair of knickers, a pair of slacks and Levis, t-shirts, shoes, and my pajamas, not the silvery slip nightgown he likes so much,  into the magic, green bag.  I’ve put on quite a show if he’s bothered to look, which I doubt from his silence; hell, I can’t even hear him breathe.  I’ve bent from the waist with my legs wide to transfer garments – yep, a full beaver shot if the boy is even slightly interested.  I’ve turned sidewise so he could see at least one of the girls at all times.  The strut out of the bathroom with my make-up bag would have pleased even the Folies Bergere choreographer.  Show the customer the goods.    
 
I stuff his shit on top.  I wad up a couple of his tees for good measure. 

His throaty chuckle at my snit makes the situation worse.  When I finally turn to face him to give him a piece of my mind, I want to give him something else.  He’s sitting in the undersized barrel chair with his arms and legs spread wide.  I know the way he’s sitting; he’s making room for his erection. 
 
I feel shamelessly sexy in the basest way.  He’s as turned on as I’ve ever seen, and I did it with my raunchiness.  I feel supremely powerful even though our difference in clothing ought to put me at a disadvantage.  His fully erect cock is clearly defined in his trousers.  For a moment, I can’t tell if he’s as angry with me as I recently was with him.  His eyes are sharp and shriek, ‘Right here, right now’ his actual intention.  He lifts his forearm from the chair and crooks his finger once, expecting to be obeyed, beckoning me to him.
 
I keep the showgirl walk to him.  When we make love, Terry’s treated me with at least a hint of care and tenderness.  I do like being cherished, but I hate the feeling that he’s holding back from me.  I think I may be finding out what angry sex with Terry is like.  At the very least, it will be a bit of rough, pushing both our boundaries.      
 
Now I know why I didn’t hear him before; he wasn’t breathing.  He’s breathing shallowly now, but when he fully inhales again, he is in command of himself and me.  His eyes drift from my outthrust hips to my swaying breasts.  He knows he has all the time in the world to watch me walk to him.  The longer he makes me wait for his touch the more spectacular is my reaction to him.  I shorten my steps to give him a longer view and for me to rev up more for him.  When I finally reach him, I stand close against the chair between his widespread legs, lift my left leg, and place it outside his thigh.  I love watching the hunger on his face as he watches my slow movement. 
 
His eyes have only one target now, my slit.  When his left hand steadies my hip, I’m startled.  When it slides up my back and bends me down, I’m ready, and I angle down and forward.  My breasts are at his mouth as his hand steadies me again at the hip.  He nips at the swell; it’s a sharp bite that he soothes with a kiss.  As he sharply nibbles around my pebbled aureole, I pull away to get his knit shirt up and off.  As soon as he is free, he hungrily takes the breast I once more offer him.  I trace my way down his chest and when I reach his waist, I work slowly on his pants.  I trace his cock’s outline before I lower his zipper and take him gently in my hand.  His mouth has begun soothing the breast now dotted with his marks.  He works each bite with whisper soft kisses outward towards my nipple.  His tongue softly laps at it, then swirls, before he scrapes his teeth over it.
 
I circle my thumb and forefinger around his corona and lightly stroke enough times for him to begin pushing into my grasp.  I slide my hand down his stalk and then slide upwards with a pressure slightly softer than he likes.  He takes in as much of my other breast as he can and sucks it hard.  He leaves me to find my own balance and grapples with removing his pants one-handed, and I add a hand to help him.  He is thrusting into my hand looking for the friction he wants.  I soften my grip slightly.  I know I’m playing with fire, but I’m enjoying it.  His growl tells me how dangerous a game this could be if I didn’t trust him so much.     
 
The finger that had beckoned to me has begun to find its way to my sex.  Its soft stops on my leg are in marked contrast to the feelings on my breasts.  When Terry traces my lips and opens me, that beckoning motion with his thumb on my clit gains more power and urgency.  I rock on his hand in my want and pull and thrust my breast across his teeth with my motion.  One more circle on my clit and one more ‘come here’ crook of his finger will send me off.
 
Terry pulls me forward and down completely onto his cock in one swift motion.  My knees are on either side of his hips; his hands are at my waist, and my strong thighs lift and settle me at the pace he wants.  It’s hard and fast and deep.  I can finally see his face again for a brief moment before our lips are too close.  The kiss is quick but bruising, and Terry is once again on my chest, this time tracing my sexual flush with his mouth.  I wrap my forearms around his head and draw him more tightly to me. 
 
When I start to vary my strokes on his cock, I swear he actually snarls, bends forwards over me, and lays us on the floor.  He could have very easily broken my back, bending me backwards that way.  Instead, he displayed his power over me in this moment and the care he has for me.  He gathers the backs of my knees in his arms and towers over me; his cock brushes my clit on every stroke as he drives down into me, and I reach up to pull myself up to him as I come.  I can feel his cock jerk and swell deep inside me as he follows and lays us back on the floor as neither of us can hold us in our upright position for long.
 
“You were fuckin’ sensational!”  His happy, though tired, remark shocks the hell out of me.  I was afraid he’d restart the grump about my temporary home and order me to peel him some grapes. 
 
“I was thinking I need to make you mad more often if the fucking would be that good.”  He rolls onto his back carrying me with him, both of us still panting.
 
He pulls my head to his chest and strokes my hair gently.  He twists his hand into my hair and forces my head up to look at him.  His action and the tone of his voice are so at odds with each other.  “I wasn’t angry, Lady.  Your suitcase packing sex show got to me, just as you’d intended.”
 
I slide off him; our sweaty bodies make it easy.  I fully understand that he has allowed my movement; with his hand still entangled in my hair, he could have stopped me easily.  His eyes are closed, but his fingers find my breasts easily and stroke them gently.  “I hadn’t, really, but you ordering me to pack for you got my dander up.”
 
He opens one eye to watch where the bites on my breasts are already fading.  “Lady, if you’d bothered to notice, my clothes were already packed.”
 
 
Lieutenant Fisher isn’t the goofy kid I’d expected.  He’s sharp and astute with a dry sense of humor.  Mac needs to put him on some contractor reviews before he becomes too cynical with his military brethren.  With Mac’s approval, Josh and I spent several afternoons my first two weeks at Nellis sightseeing around Vegas particularly the places that would bore Terry senseless like the Liberace museum.  I do have reservations for Terry and me at different hotels and their restaurants and shows when he returns.  Before he left for Korea, we decided we wanted to try as many hotels as we can.  Something about him and hotel room sex is …nice.  He walks into the room, and he’s sporting wood.  He swears it’s only because I’m there with him.   
 
The Nellis AFB culture is one of heightened security.  I suppose they have to be since they are the jumping off point for Groom Lake, or Area 51 for UFO buffs.  Josh has fought alone for every single procedure we need to review.  I’ve received no more cooperation than he has.  The procedures come in dribs and drabs, normally one at a time.  Mac actually suggested that we leave the base with the reasoning, “If they can’t find you, they’ll wonder what you’re finding on your own.”  That was marginally more successful, but not by a lot.
 
I’m awfully glad I’ve negotiated a trip home every two weeks.  I’ll be here a lot longer than I’d scheduled.         

Return to Ongoing Stories




Return to Table of Contents