Highwire - Part 18

Jack was sitting on the sofa nursing his third scotch, staring into the fire he'd started when there was a knock on his door. He stood and walked over to it, glass in hand, and opened the door to find Claire standing in the hallway.

Holding the door only partially open, he said crossly, "I thought I'd made it clear that I wanted to be alone."

She pushed into the apartment and said, "Yes I know...By standing me up. I waited for half an hour. You could have called the bar, Jack...could have beeped me so I'd know you weren't coming."

He shut the door behind her. "I didn't want to go."

"That's obvious," she said. "You could have said that in the first place."

"You weren't going to leave me alone until I told you what you wanted to hear," he said, more surly than she'd ever seen him.

"Jack...I'm not irrational. I'm not dense. In the future, just say no. Don't agree to something for whatever reason knowing you have no intention of following through. I've never liked being stood-up."

"I left my office to be alone, but you didn't seem to respect that. You followed me to the elevator...you..."

She interrupted him. Both of their voices were beginning to increase in volume. "I wanted to apologise about my behaviour yesterday, wanted to explain..."

"And I already told you that I know what happened. Someone saw us going into that hotel, and it hit the rumour mill first thing Monday morning."

"Yes, but I wanted to explain --not WHAT upset me, but WHY it upset me-- because I know that in the wake of my reaction I hurt you and..."

He interrupted her again, and said, derisively, "I'm not that thin-skinned, babe."

"Will you shut up for 3 minutes so I can explain this to you?"

Until then, they had been standing a good five feet apart. At this, Jack moved in closer to her, so that he was in her face.

Voice low, he seethed, "I don't know what kind of relationships you've been in the past, but I'll tell you what. You don't come into my home and tell me when I can or cannot speak."

"Jack, something is bothering you. It's more than what happened yesterday. When something is bothering you this much, you have to tell me."

"You're not my mother, Claire. You're not my confessor and you're not my wife. I don't have to tell you a goddamned thing."

"No, I guess you don't.... but you said something to me once, that day a couple of weeks ago when Gordon lunged over the table at me at Rikers. You said that if our relationship was going to work, we have to be honest with each other about our feelings. I'm saying those words back to you now."

"Don't you dare lecture me about honesty," he bit at her, "You who wouldn't tell your mother about us until I raised a stink. You who kept the fact that you were having nightmares from me. Not to mention that incident yesterday. You have no right to impose a set of rules on me that you're not willing to follow yourself."

She opened her mouth to reply, but realised he was right in what he'd just said, and clapped it shut. She opened it again a moment later and said, "That may be true, but you haven't exactly been forthcoming in regards to the Koppel situation, either, Jack."

"Claire...." he said, heading for the door, "You'd better leave."

"No."

"What?"

"I said 'no'."

"Who the hell do you think you are to come in here and..."

"I'm not leaving until we work this out. Every time we have a fight one of us leaves in the middle of it, and then we both feel like shit because it doesn't get resolved. Well, this time I'm not leaving," she said, planting her feet firmly as he moved toward her again. "If you want me out, you're going to have to put me out."

"Don't tempt me," he said harshly, "And I wasn't aware we were fighting."

"What the hell would you call this, then?" she asked.

"I'd call it 'I don't want to be with you right now and you can't seem to get that through your fucking head'," he almost yelled.

Her voice grew louder to match his. "IF you'd give me a straight answer --that's all I'm after-- about what's bothering you, or at least a decent reason why you won't tell me, I'd let it go."

He finished his drink and left her in the living room while he went for another. He came out with his glass refilled, and took a large gulp.

"How much of that have you had?" she asked him.

He took another gulp, and glaring at her, said, "DO NOT... this is not the time.... don't lecture me about how much I drink."

She was making absolutely no head-way with him, and all that was happening was that they were both growing more angry by the minute.

"Jack..." her voice was almost pleading, "If I've said something... or done something, or NOT done something, I need to know."

"That's some ego you've got on you, babe," he said hurtfully. "Contrary to what you may think, you are not the central focal point of my life...and if you think you are, you've got a helluva wake-up call coming."

He regretted his cruel words almost instantly.

Whatever resolve had been sustaining her seemed to flee, leaving her face to crumble beneath the force of his verbal blow. Chin beginning to quiver, she turned and headed for the door.

"You idiot!" he admonished himself. "What did you say that for... because other than work --and she's part of that, too-- she IS."

"Claire..." he called as she opened the door.

She did not turn around, only paused briefly at the door before stepping into the hall and slamming the door shut behind her.

He started to go after her, got into the hall just as she entered the elevator.

"Claire!"

But she didn't come back out.

He moved quickly back into his apartment, grabbed his keys and a pair of boots, which he attempted to put on while moving swiftly down the hall. He could see that the elevator was just arriving in the lobby, and instead of waiting for it to come back up after pressing the button (she already had a head-start), he opened the door to the stairwell and ran down the stairs, and out the front door of the building.

It had begun to rain, and the rain was coming down very heavily. Up the block a ways, he saw Claire at her car. She appeared to be having trouble getting the car door open.

In fact, she WAS having trouble, because between the blinding rain and the stinging tears streaking down her cheeks, she couldn't see a damn thing. She heard Jack calling her name, but kept trying to get the car door open.

As he closed in on her, the keys slipped from her shaking hands and fell into a puddle that had formed near her car. He reached her as she bent to fish her keys out of the puddle, and he knelt down to help her. They couldn't see her keys because her car and the intensity of the rain had obscured the light of the street lamps. She found them, grabbed hold, and without a word to Jack, started fumbling to get the key into the lock on the door.

She got it in on the first try this time, but before she could turn it and open the door, Jack laid his hand on he wrist. She yanked her hand away as if he'd just poured scalding water on her skin. She had not looked at him since leaving his apartment. Here she turned her back to him and raised her palms to her face. Her shoulders were shaking almost imperceptibly, but enough so that Jack could tell she was crying. He made to put his arms around her, to turn her to him, but she avoided his embrace, pushing him away.

"Don't," she said, her voice more than a little shaky.

They were both drenched by this point. Claire at least had her coat, but her jeans and shoes were soaked, and her hair was plastered down to her head. Jack's white T-shirt had become transparent.

"I'm sorry... Claire... God, I didn't mean that... I... I'm sorry," he said , his voice hoarse with emotion.

He tried to pull her into his arms again, and again she pushed him away. She pulled her keys out of the door and started up the street.

Jack followed her. "Where are you going?" he asked her, trying to stop her.

"I don't know," she said, sounding lost. She kept walking.

At last, he just grabbed her by the arms and pulled her to him, holding her tight against his chest, not allowing her to push him away, although she tried.

"Let me go," she demanded.

"I don't want to ever let you go," he said, his lips moving against her temple.

"You just said," she hiccoughed through her tears, "That you didn't want to be with me. That I don't mean as much to you as I thought I did, as much as you made me think I did."

"I know... I know what I said...I didn't mean that," he told her, "It's not you I don't want to be with...It's me."

"I don't understand you." She was still crying. For the moment, she couldn't help it and didn't care to try.

"I don't understand myself sometimes...why I do some of the things I do," he said softly. She had relaxed some in his arms. "If I let you go, are you going to walk away again?"

She shook her head "no", and so he released her.

He reached down for her hand. "Come back up with me," he said.

She shook her head.

"I'm not a yo-yo, Jack," she told him in between her deep breaths. "You can't push me away like you just did and expect to pull me back in as if nothing ever happened."

"I know," he said. "But come upstairs where it's warm... and dry."

She let him guide her back toward his building. Once inside his apartment, he removed her jacket from her and hung it over the back of one of his dining room chairs. When he went back over to her, he pulled her in front of the fire and reached out for her waist. He started to pull her shirt up, but she stopped him.

"Jack...stop..."

"Claire..." he said, strained. "Just take your clothes off so you don't get sick. I'll put them in the dryer."

"Oh... okay."

"You can wear my robe while they dry," he told her. "You know where it is. In the meantime, would you like some tea?"

She nodded, and when he went into the kitchen to set the tea kettle on the stove, she headed for the bathroom. She stripped off her wet clothing, toweled herself dry, and ran the towel over her hair before slipping into Jack's heavy robe.

When she was done, she opened the bathroom door to find Jack waiting for her. He, too, had changed into something dry. She handed him the bundle of soaking clothes. His hands grazed against hers as he took the clothing from her, and he was aware of how cold her hands were.

"You're hands are like icicles," he informed her as he turned, opened the folding hallway doors to reveal a washer and dryer, opened the dryer door, and stuffed her clothes inside. He turned the dryer on.

"C'mon," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the hall with him, stopping in front of the fireplace.

He reached for her other hand. Cupping them both between his own, he began to rub vigorously. After a few moments, he pulled her hands up --they were completely hidden by his much larger ones-- and attempted to use his warm breath to warm her hands.

In the kitchen, the tea kettle began it's shrill whistling.

"Wait here and stay warm," he told her.

She was shivering and so she wasn't about to argue.

Jack returned a few minutes later to find her sitting on the floor in front of the fire, attempting to cover her bare feet with the bottom of his robe. He held the cup in front of her and she took it, gingerly sipping.

"Thanks," she told him, looking up at him.

He nodded and went to sit in the easy chair. They sat, not speaking, for several moments, Claire still nursing her wounded feelings from the things Jack had said to her that night, Jack pained by the memory of the hurt look on her face and the lost sound in her voice when she'd started walking to no where in the rain just to escape him.

"Do you still want to hear about what's been bothering me? he asked tentatively, "If you don't.....if you don't care anymore, just tell..."

"I do," she interrupted.

He nodded.

"Tell me something first?" she asked.

"What's that?"

"Am I gonna have to flip out and stand in the pouring down rain every time I want to get you to tell me something?"

"I don't think so," he told her, "But I can't say for sure."

"I hope I don't have to go through all that, because, you know, in the summer, I'm going to be S.O.L."

A sardonic smile crossed his lips and he said, "Well, you've got a few months to figure out how to snap me out of bastard-mode before the warm days of summer set in."

"I'll think on it and come up with something," she said.

She was beginning to warm up, both physically thanks to the fire and tea, and to Jack again, her feelings for him having gone ice cold for a time in the wake of his cruel words. It was finally sinking into her brain that the fact that Jack had come running after, out into the deluge of rain wearing only a T-shirt and a pair of jeans signified that his words had been nothing more than that: words. Words intended to wound and to bring her to his level of misery, yes, but words nonetheless, with no weight or truth behind them.

He began his narration.

"When Paul Koppel an I were in law school together... we met in our Con. 1 class. We lived in the same residence hall on campus, though on different floors. At the end of our first semester, we'd both had more than enough of the manic life of dorm living, having endured it for 4 years while earning our Bachelor's degrees. So we got an apartment close to the campus together," he said, pausing for a moment to sip at the cup of tea he'd made himself. "He was dating Anna by then, very seriously, too. I envied his relationship with her. She was --is-- a good woman, and without admitting it to myself back then, I held their relationship up as the model for what I wanted in the future... They were so together, so obviously right for each other, even a jaded cynic like myself could see that."

He stopped for a minute.

"Paul had such a knack for the law, Claire. Back then, he was one of the most moral and ethical people I'd ever met. I know I told you about his work with the Poverty Law Group, and the Abused Women's Advocacy Commission, but he did more than that. He was involved in Moot Court competition --so was I--, spent time each week in the campus legal clinic, and even though he was only a C-student, he tutored a number of our classmates, myself included.

"I'm not ashamed to say that I looked up to Paul. I may have been the one with the grades, but he could have had them, too, had he spent more time at the books and less time in the practical legal world. And he didn't have the father I had. I admired --and shared, of course-- his drive, ambition and passion for the law. I respected his knowledge and the way he put it to use.

"After law school, we all moved here to New York: me to come to work in the DA's office, Paul to work as an associate in the firm in which he's now one of the senior partners. Paul and Anna settled into their new life, started a family right away. I envied him their life together. I think, in Kathy, when we found out she was pregnant and I married her, I was looking for the life Paul led, which I'd always looked at as a kind of ideal. In my personal life, especially, I had always wanted to emulate him, and time and again I failed. With Kathy and our daughter. With Sally and Diana and a few other women."

"So," said Claire, "You feel betrayed by someone you looked up to, by someone, who, in a sense, you tried to please?"

Jack nodded.

"It seems to me," she continued, "How do I put this? ... It seems to me that there is a correlation between what you felt for you father, and what you now feel for Paul Koppel."

Jack set his tea cup down and stood, moving over to one of his bookshelves, staring intently at the volumes there without really looking at them.

"I hadn't thought about it like that... but I can see how that's true," said Jack thoughtfully. "I always wanted my old man to be proud of me, but along with that went the terrible knowledge that he himself wasn't the type of person one should be proud of.

"Paul was different. He was a good friend, and a damn good attorney, but somehow, at some point, without my knowledge, the Paul Koppel I know today diverged from the Paul that was my closest friend and confidant all those years.

"When it came to me that Paul had to have been involved in the conspiracy to murder David Lempert, I didn't want to believe it. I thought, 'No, not Paul whom I've always trusted. Not Paul whom I've admired and respected all these years. Not Paul... he wouldn't do that'."

Here, he paused and turned back to look at Claire, who was staring at him intently, her face a mask of concern.

"But he did, Claire. He betrayed everything he used to stand for. He betrayed the very system of justice he used to hold so dear," he gulped, his voice shaking a little, "He betrayed... me."

Jack began to pace as he continued. "This whole situation makes me feel as though I should be questioning my entire belief system --a damn frightening proposition at my age, let me tell you -- and my faith in everyone close to me, everyone I've admired. Even Adam, Claire. Even you."

"Jack... I..."

"No, please... let me finish. You've wanted to hear about this for a while now, and I've denied you. Well, I'm ready to tell it now, but in my own way, alright?"

"Okay."

"Do you know your Shakespeare, Claire? The histories?"

"I worked my way through the complete works in high school, and again in college," she told him. "Why?"

"Do you remember in Henry V when Henry finds out that he's been betrayed by Scroop and friends, who've been hired by the French to kill him?"

Claire nodded.

"Something about the situation with Paul made me think of it, and so I found a copy the other night. Henry confronts Scroop, who's betrayal is more acute because he and Henry were supposed to have been dear friends. He tells him, 'This revolt of thine is like another fall of man'. That's it, Claire, that's how I feel. Paul used to be so virtuous, and now look at him," he paused again, and walked over to the window. "There is a sentiment in there, too, that is akin to what I said earlier about questioning my faith in the people close to me. Henry says, 'This thy fall hath left a kind of blot to mark the full fraught man, and best endued with some suspicion'.

"And so yesterday, when you started acting so strangely in my office, and then wouldn't pick up your phone or return my calls last night... I thought, well... after the weekend we'd had, to have you start acting so out of the norm for you, so cold, I wasn't sure what to think..."

"I'm so sorry about that, Jack," she said.

"I know, babe," he said softly, then continued. "That phone call that I was on just before you came in to my office this afternoon... it was Paul ,Claire, Paul and Anna both, trying to play on our friendship so I'd drop the charge, asking how could I do this to a friend?

"I told them that the Paul who could do something like this was not the Paul that had been my friend. I was called some names, but that didn't phase me much --I've been called much worse, believe me. Then they hung up on me, and I started to think 'Maybe they're right'. What kind of man am I to put the best friend I've ever had in the position of having to choose between going to prison for several years, or testifying against the head of a mob family who has already proven numerous times that he's willing to have anyone killed who gets in his way, crosses him, or knows too much?

"I have prosecutorial discretion. I didn't have to charge him. The knowledge of his true dealings with Dasso didn't have to go beyond you and me."

"Yes it did, Jack," said Claire as she stood and crossed over to him. She placed her hand on his back and said, lowering her voice slightly, "Yes it did because of the kind of man you are. The kind of man who still believes in justice, and who isn't willing to compromise that belief, even for a friend. That's not something to be ashamed of, Jack, no matter what Paul and Anna Koppel might say. It's something to be admired."

"Is it? I'm not so sure. I'm having trouble dealing with the idea that what I'm doing is the right thing to do. I know it's right. But it's causing such pain all around."

"Jack?" she brought her hand up to his shoulder and he turned slightly to her. "Why don't you take yourself off the case? Let me take it... or give it to another EADA."

"I can't, Claire. This is the horrible part. I have to be the one to do it. If Paul did this thing, I have to be the one to nail him for it. For me. It's ugly, but there it is."

He walked away from her.

"If you're wondering why I wouldn't tell you this before.... well... I don't particularly care for this vengeful side of myself, and I didn't want you to see it."

"We all have our ugly sides, Jack," she remarked, moving closer to him again. When she stood in front of him, his back against the doorway to the hall, he dropped his hands to her shoulders. She continued speaking, "And we all want to hide them from the ones we love, like little secrets, but the thing is, secrets have a way of coming back and biting you. I don't want us to keep things from each other anymore, it creates too much discord later."

He closed his arms about her and pulled her in. She tensed slightly at first, but relaxed quickly against the warmth of his body. He brought one hand up to stroke her still damp hair.

"Jack?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you came after me... I would have..."

"I'm sorry I was such an ass."

"I'm sorry, too," she said. "I've been an ass myself."

He leaned back a bit and tilted her face up, and looked into her eyes. "Are we better now?"

She nodded, and he hugged her close again

"God I've missed you," he groaned into her hair just above her ear.

Her response was to kiss him, tentatively at first. He dropped his hands to her hips and held her there as her hands slid from his back, around to his arms, and up and over his shoulders, coming to rest in the hair at the back of his neck. She slid her hands back down his arms. At his waist, she slid her hands --warm, now-- under his un-tucked T-shirt, and lightly stroked his sides.

He moved his head back and gazed down at her, a questioning look on his face. Earlier, when he'd tried to help her out of her wet clothing, she'd rebuffed what she'd thought was a sexual advance, and so he was looking down, to ascertain exactly what it was she had in mind. She stared back at him intently and nodded, seeing the questioning look on his face. He bent his head to hers and resumed kissing her, pulling her closer to him. Her hands slid further up his shirt, over into the middle of his chest, and lightly fluttered over his pectoral muscles. She removed her hands and lowered them to grip the bottom of his T-shirt, which she drew slowly up, and over his head.

He pushed away from the wall and pulled Claire, by the hand, down the hall. On their way, the dryer shut-off.

Jack paused and switched it on again. "We'll give them a little longer to make sure they're completely dried."

"Good idea," she said gravely, nodding.

They continued down the hall and Jack sat on the edge of his bed, pulling Claire down onto his lap so that she faced away from him. He drew her hair aside and lightly kissed the side of her neck. Claire shivered pleasantly. He eased her forward slightly, then reached around to loosen the belt on the robe she'd borrowed from him. When he could do so with ease, he worked the robe down her arms, so that she was bared from the waist up.

His lips kissed the space between her shoulder blades as his fingertips blazed a light trail over her shoulders, and down her arms. His fingers roamed aimlessly over her skin. He reached under her arms, and around, and ran his fingers gently over her breasts, the pads of his fingers just barely grazing over her nipples. She sighed contentedly as he lightly squeezed before his hands continued on. His touch on her was light, almost maddeningly so.

Claire grabbed hold of Jack's hands and brought them up to kiss his fingertips before standing and turning to face him. She tugged on his hands, and he stood, squeezing her hands before loosing them and resting his hands on her shoulders as he leaned in to kiss her. He felt her hands on his chest, sliding down lower, running along his ribcage. Her fingers trailed slowly along the top of the waistline of his jeans, until they met in the middle, and she began to undo the fly. Jack began to rub his hands over her back as she slipped her hands around his waist, and slightly inside his jeans, pushing them down.

When his pants were in a heap on the floor, they knelt together on the bed, facing one another. Jack's hands continued their light exploration of Claire's body, and she was beginning to yearn for him to touch her with more force.

She held his face in her hands, kissing him fiercely, all the emotion that had been pent up in her the past few days shaking free.

"I've missed being with you like this," she told him huskily.

"It's only been since Sunday morning," he laughed. "That's only 3 days."

"I know....but when two of those days have been spent in a fight...." she said, her voice an odd mix of gravity and playfulness. "But if you feel it hasn't been long enough...I could always go and...."

"You will not," he laughed, grabbing hold of her and falling backwards onto the bed, bringing her down on top of him.

Both of them laughing, Jack rolled over, pulling Claire beneath him. He kissed her gently as his hands again began to gently explore her upper body. She held on to his waist for a minute before tracing the waistline of his boxers, following them into the back, then slipping them down inside, her fingernails lightly running over his behind.

Jack sighed happily. Now that he and Claire were no longer at odds, he felt a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He reached for the sash that held his robe on her, at this point only from the waist down, and pulled the sides apart, baring her to him. One of his hands came up to reverently caress her breasts as he braced himself on the other. Having, seemingly, sated himself with her breasts for the time being, his hand moved lower, his touch still so light it was beginning to drive her mad. When his hand slid between her thighs and he began to delicately, languidly tease her, she reached up and pulled his face down to her, and kissed him, hard. When she pulled her head away to breathe, she said, finally, "Jack...please... I'm not going to break..."

"What?"

"You're touching me so softly...it's like you think I'm going to shatter if you touch me too hard..." she told him..."Actually, I'm going to shatter if you don't."

"Hmmmm....that could be interesting to watch," he told her as she kissed him playfully. "Wish I had a feather..."

"You'd probably kill me with it..."

One of his eyebrows shot up at this and he said, still touching her very lightly, "Ahhhh... a weakness...I'll have to remember that and try it sometime."

"That's how you want to play it, is it?" she queried, "Well...I can play that game just as well as you can," and with that, she bucked upwards so that he lost his balance and rolled off of her and onto his back. Before he could protest or recover, she straddled his thighs and pinned him down with her hands.

"There...that's better," she told him before leaning down to kiss him on the lips....lightly of course, very lightly.

"Now that you've go me where you want me," he inquired, "What are you going to do to me?"

"Just relax," she whispered.

She sat back on his thighs and both of them grew quiet as Claire began to lightly trace the various muscles of his torso with her fingertips. When she finished a circuit, she began to lightly rub her palms over his abdomen, chest, arms and shoulders. This done, she switched to her fingers again, this time softly raking his skin with her fingernails.

Jack groaned when her nails traveled over his nipples, sensitive already from her previous touch. He sat up, his hands sliding sound her to cup the globes of her behind in his hands, and kissed her full on the lips, his desire to tease her abating. She kissed him back, sensuously, for some moments before pushing him down once more.

She smiled down at him, then leaned over him, flipping her hair over, and running the mass of thick, silken, fragrant strands over his neck and downward. Claire moved her head from side to side as she trailed her hair down across his chest, and still lower. As she reached his abdomen, she began to work his boxers off of him. He lifted his hips to help her. When they were off and tossed aside, she resumed her position over his abdomen and began to trail her hair even lower, over his pelvis, the essence of his maleness, and over his thighs, which fell open.

She heard his intake of breath when her hair had passed over his phallus again, and looked up to see that his eyes had closed. Claire paused for a moment and ran her hands through her hair, then tucked it behind her ears. Smiling to herself, she traced the underside of that hard part of him with a finger, and up around the tip. She watched as his face contorted in pleasure. His eyes snapped open and he gazed at her, desire naked in his deep brown eyes.

Watching his eyes as she lowered her head seeing them light up in anticipation, she smiled at him before replacing the tip of her finger with the tip of her tongue. Jack sighed happily. Claire did not take him into her mouth, instead only teasing him by barely touching the sensitive flesh there with her lips and tongue. She rested her hands on his parted thighs and began to rub slow circles on the innermost portion of his thighs, applying only the faintest hint of pressure.

He allowed her to continue until his stomach and groin had grown so tight he knew he was only seconds away from climax.

"Claire..." he pleaded in a strangled whisper. "Please... no more."

She ceased and moved upward, straddling his pelvis just above his raging manhood.

"Well?" she inquired. "

Hmm?" he said, resting his hands on her hips.

"How did I do?"

"Christ Claire," he groaned as she reached behind herself to lightly stroke him. "You won... I concede."

"Good," she replied.

Her smile of self satisfaction roused him and he said, "The battle Claire... but not the war." With that, she found herself pinned beneath him.

"War?"

He nodded. "Of course, in this war, no one really loses."

"That's good because neither of us is a gracious loser."

"No, that we're not," he agreed. "But I'd say there has been enough discussion for one evening."

"I couldn't agree more."

They grew quiet for a time, just touching and kissing one another, reveling in the feeling of lips on lips, skin on skin, hands on skin.

Jack reached down between them, holding himself away from her, and began to stroke her female softness. After a time, he stopped and quickly took the responsibility for their protection. Rather than pressing forward and entering her, he reached over and pulled a pillow out from under the covers.

He kissed her neck and said, "Lift your hips."

When she complied, he placed the pillow beneath her, elevating her hips slightly. He pushed her legs open a bit wider, and slowly entered her.

They moaned in unison as he entered her, both a little shocked by the wonderful sensation a slightly different angle of penetration could provide. He pulled out of her and thrust forward again, Claire arching her back and moaning once again as the top side of his shaft rubbed pleasurably against her inflamed and swollen womanly jewel.

Neither of them were in the mood to be gentle, and so, with Claire's verbal and physical encouragement, Jack began to move swiftly in and out of her. Their moans and cries complimented each other, rising in volume at the same rate. Claire cried out first, wave after wave of pleasure rocking through her body, building higher and higher as she experienced one of the most intense orgasms of her life thus far. Jack, caught up in the vortex of Claire's incredible climax, shouted his own release as she continued to shudder her pleasure.

Jack collapsed against Claire, and the clung together, breathing heavily, bodies coated in a fine sheen of perspiration from the exertion.

"Amazing," he whispered, still too spent to roll away from her, "You're amazing."

"WE'RE amazing, love," she corrected him.

"I love you, Claire," he whispered a few minutes later, as he rolled onto his side, pulling he with him so that she lay facing him, their arms still wrapped tightly around each other.

"I love you, too."

They lay together for some time. Eventually, the dryer buzzer sounded again, and Claire moved to get up.

"There's my cue," she told him.

"Babe...don't go," he said, "Stay with me tonight."

She looked down at him, at the open, vulnerable look on his face, and she wanted to stay, oh how she wanted to. But it was getting late, and they had work in the morning. And there was the puppy to think of. He'd barked and whined that first night she tried to make him sleep in the kitchen. She knew her neighbours, with the exception of Mrs. Harrington, would be upset by it. So, though it pained her to deny him, she had to.

"Jack...God, I want to...."

"I'm sensing a 'but' in there, Claire."

"But I can't....not tonight... I can't tell you why just now, but it'll all be clear on Christmas Eve, I promise."

He looked at her semi-warily for a moment, and decided, after the turmoil they'd been through the past days, to trust that she had a good reason.

He pulled her down to him, and kissed her, hard. "Okay, babe. If you have to go, you have to go."

"Don't be angry, please," she told him, laying her head on his chest for a moment. "Or hurt."

He stroked her hair lightly and said, "I'm not, Claire. I'm not angry or hurt. I know you love me. I trust you."

"Thank you, Jack."