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Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Highwire - Part 4

Tuesday was less eventful than Monday.

When Claire arrived at the office that morning, it was clear that news of Monday's events had made it's way through the office grapevine. As she walked the hall to her desk, she noticed people staring at here, with looks of concern, and/or pity.

Claire hated being the object of such close scrutiny, unless she was in the courtroom. She held her head high, a thin smile on her face, and nodded to the secretaries, law clerks, paralegals, and the other ADAs as she headed to her cubicle.

She could see that Jack was standing behind his desk, phone against his ear, as she neared her desk. He smiled when he saw her, motioned her to come into his office, and sat down in his chair, reclining back. She took off her coat, and hung it on the rack next to one of her filing cabinets. Grabbing her attaché case, she walked the few yards to Jack's office, and entered without knocking.

"Fine," Jack was saying, "I'll see you and your client at Riker's later this evening. Bye."

He placed the receiver in the cradle.

"Morning," she said, attempting some measure of decorum.

He smiled wider, "Have you eaten breakfast?"

Claire shook her head in the negative. "I overslept."

"Good, I've ordered us bagels and coffee. We'll eat, and you can tell me what's going on with the Gordon case."

She sat down on the opposite side of his desk, and raised her eyebrows at him.

"Hey, I'm interested" he admitted amiably, shrugging. "And here to offer any assistance I can. So sue me."

They laughed, and there was a knock on the door from the main reception hallway.

"Yes?" Jack called.

The door opened, and the delivery boy brought in their breakfast. Jack stood and paid for the food, and the delivery boy left. Jack returned to his desk, setting the box with their breakfast on a pile of file-folders. He handed Claire one of the cups filled with coffee, reached in the paper sack and pulled out a fresh, warm cinnamon raisin bagel (Claire's favourite, he knew) and handed it across the desk to her, making sure their fingers touched when she reach out for it. They looked at each other and smiled. It was a small gesture, but both knew it to be the distant predecessor of the longer, more intimate touching the future held for them.

Claire sat and began the liberal application of cream cheese to her bagel, as Jack sat down.

"I was going to ask you for dinner tonight," he informed her as they ate, "but I've got to meet Taglioni and his lawyer at Rikers this evening. Who knows how long that will take. So you'll have to give me lunch, instead."

Claire cocked an eyebrow at him. "Jack, are trying to send me some kind of message?"

"How's that?" he asked, confused. He hadn't realised she was teasing.

"You're always trying to feed me."

"Oh, that," he laughed, looking her over. "Well, now that you mention it, you are kinda skinny."

Claire snorted in mock-offence.

Jack laughed harder. "I like a woman with a healthy appetite."

"You do, do you?" she asked, suggestively.

"Oh yes," he told her. "For all sorts of things."

"Mmhmmm...like what?"

She was looking at him intently when he raised his head to meet her gaze. They stared deep into each other's eyes for several heartbeats, both fighting the urge to do what they were longing to do: stand up, walk around the desk, and into each other's arms.

"God but he's attractive," thought Claire to herself, and she found herself wondering what he'd look like shirtless. Would he have a hairy chest? She thought not.

For his part, Jack was also wondering what goodies Claire was concealing beneath her buttoned-up lawyerly attire.

From the look on Jack's face, Claire figured he had guessed what she'd been thinking. She coloured slightly (Jack had a way of looking at her that did that to her). Claire broke the gaze, looking down and picking up the un-eaten half of her bagel: Jack's office at 8:30 on a Tuesday morning was not the place to be having an innuendo filled conversation that was heading the way this one was heading.

Jack, too, seemed to realise the inappropriateness of this particular conversation at this particular time and place, for it was he who changed the topic of conversation.

He cleared his throat (his way of focusing his wandering mind), and said, "So....are you gonna bring me up to speed on Gordon, or am I going to have to read about it in the newspapers?"

Claire finished chewing before launching into her spiel. She gave him a rundown of all the evidence, both direct and circumstantial, which, unfortunately, was basically the same information she had given him all those days ago in Adam's office: the day she realised Jack had been admiring her in silence for sometime. The day he kissed her in the elevator.

"And what about the DNA test results?" he queried.

"The tests haven't been conducted yet," she admitted.

"What?" asked Jack, a little shocked "What're you waiting for?"

"Well, Gordon's attorney and I have reached an impasse as far as the DNA tests go."

"What sort of an impasse?" questioned Jack.

"He wants some of the samples so he can conduct his own tests."

"Why not let him?" asked Jack. "His tests will only corroborate yours."

"If we had enough of each of the samples to do so, I wouldn't have any problem letting Parker's experts conduct a separate test," she explained. "The problem is that the samples are relatively small, and if we give up even 10% of them, neither test will yield results we can use."

"I see."

"He offered to conduct the tests for us, since only one is going to be able to be done."

"I'm sure he did, and what did you say?"

"I told him no." Claire stated. "He knows we don't have reciprocal discovery. If the tests show his client to be guilty, and they've been conducted by his experts, we'll never see them. And Gordon will walk. That's unacceptable, Jack."

"You're right."

"I offered to find an expert we could both agree upon, but he refused."

"Know what I think?" asked Jack.

"Hmmm?" Claire replied, looking him in the eyes.

"Run your tests Claire," he advised. "Afterall, the test results are the evidence, not the samples themselves."

"I don't want to run them and have it come back and bite me in the ass, Jack."

"It won't, Claire."

She nodded. Something about Parker's manner made her unable to share Jack's confidence.

"Now that I've got you in my office...."

"Yes?" she queried, not quite sure where the conversation was going to head.

"Let's do a little work on Koppel."

"Alright," she agreed.


*****

Later that morning, Claire did as Jack had suggested, and called the forensic lab, instructing the technicians to go ahead and run the DNA tests on all the Gordon evidence they had in their possession. However, she did as she had told Parker she would, and called an independent lab rather than the one the DA's office usually used.

After she called the lab, she put a call into Legal Aid, and more specifically, to Richard Parker, informing him of the situation.

"You did WHAT?" he nearly yelled.

"Look, Parker," she began, "You know as well as I do that these tests need to be run. I wasn't about to sit on my hands for the rest of my life, waiting for you to come to some sort of a decision. So I went ahead and told the lab to run the tests."

"What about the rules of discovery?"

"As soon as the results come in, I'll send you your copy."

"I see," said Parker, and Claire couldn't get a read on his tone. "Have you seen our judge assignment yet?"

"I've been in a meeting all morning," she told him, "I was just about to go through my in-box."

"I'll save you the time, Ms. Kincaid," he remarked. "It's Judge Lisa Pongracic."

"Great!!" thought Claire sarcastically. Out of all the New York Supreme Court Jurists Claire had been before, none was as concerned with the defendant's rights as Judge Pongracic. She knew she was in for some fairly random rulings.

Parker seemed somehow satisfied with himself, and said, "I'll talk to you later, Ms. Kincaid."

Claire heard the click as Parker set his phone down.

*****

Later, Jack and Claire were having their standard early-evening case meeting with Adam when there was a knock on Adam's door.

"Yes?" called Adam.

The door opened and a young law clerk entered, handing Claire a legal document. The clerk left. Claire unfolded the papers, and read them, Jack and Adam continuing their discussion, knowing Claire would inform them what was in the document as soon as she had finished reading them.

"It's from Parker, Gordon's attorney," she said sourly. "He's filed a motion to suppress the DNA test results, on the grounds that we violated the rules of discovery by not allowing his experts to run their own tests. I have to be in chambers tomorrow afternoon."

"It'll never wash," said Jack. "The rules of discovery say that you have to turn over all evidence to the defense that you are going to present in court, as well as any potentially exculpatory material. Since you're not planning on presenting the samples as evidence, but the results of the tests done on those samples, you are not required to hand them over to the defense."

Adam nodded in agreement.

"Lisa Pongracic is hearing the case," Claire informed them.

"Just wonderful," replied Adam. "So tomorrow you and Chet will do your little dance in front of Judge Pongracic, and just hope she follows Jack's reasoning."

*****

That night, a little after 9 pm, Claire's telephone rang. She set her book down, and leaned over to the coffee table to grab her cordless telephone. This movement disturbed Lucy, who had been sitting on Claire's lap. Lucy meowed as she landed paws-first on the floor.

"Hello?" said Claire.

"Hey lady....you want to have dinner tonight?" It was Jack.

"I'm sorry," she said, keeping her voice level. "But I don't accept dinner invitations from un-identified men who can't even say hello when I answer the phone.."

"Funny, Claire." Jack stated. "Well, how 'bout it? Hungry? Oh, Hello, by the way."

"There you go, trying to feed me again," she laughed into the receiver. "I already ate."

"Drinks?"

"Not tonight, Jack."

"Claire, are you mad at me again?"

"Oh, Jack, no." she said, upset with herself that she had given him the wrong impression. "It's just.....well, I'm already settled in for the night."

"OK," said Jack, not wanting to force the issue. "So, are you ready for your hearing in front of Pongracic tomorrow?"

"As ready as anyone can be, arguing a motion in front of a judge as unpredictable as Pongracic."

"You'll do fine, Claire."

"Thanks, Jack," she replied, and the little girl inside her sighed "I'm glad someone thinks so."

"Do you have any plans Friday night?" asked Jack.

"No," replied Claire.

"Have dinner with me." It was neither a question nor a command.

"Okay."

"Do you want to do something else, as well?" he asked. "See a movie? A play?"

"Have you seen In the Name of the Father yet?" she asked. "I've been wanting to see that."

"Then that's what we'll see."

"Well that was easy," said Claire.

"Claire....whatever you want....if it's in my power, I'll make sure you get it."

Claire didn't know what to say. There seemed to be so much emotion behind Jack's words. His confession was so sincere, tears began to well in Claire's eyes. No man had ever said anything like that to her before, and it took her breath away.

"Oh....Jack....." she began.

"I want to make sure you're happy Claire," he told her. "Oh, Jack, what are you doing?" he asked himself. He'd spent the greater part of his life keeping people at arms length, too afraid of the rejection he had learned to despise and fear from his father. He felt like he was rushing too fast with Claire, but there didn't seem to be any choice. He had never felt this concerned about another's happiness before, and in sober truth, it frightened the hell out of him, but at the same time he knew he meant what he said. He would do anything to ensure Claire Kincaid's happiness. He realised he was placing his heart in her hands, taking more risks than he had in any of his previous relationships, and yet, there never seemed to be any question about it. He implicitly trusted that Claire would not hurt him, and vowed to himself that he would never intentionally hurt her.

"Jack, I....I don't know what to say," Claire stammered. "I.....thank you, Jack. I'm touched. And honoured."

Claire knew Jack meant what he said. She knew, also, what such an admission meant to someone like Jack. Someone who liked to be in control of any given situation. Someone who checked his own emotions to ensure that control. The tremor in his voice as he spoke told her that he knew that he was not necessarily in control of this situation, and it tugged at the strings of her heart to know that he was tying his own happiness to hers.

"Your happiness means a great deal to me, Claire. Anything....anything you need," he told her again.

"Oh, Jack...your happiness means a lot to me, too," she said. "But Jack...you don't....you don't need to give me things to make me happy."

"So tell me..." he began, a little chagrined that their conversation had become so serious and intent. When he called her, he had just meant to ask her to dinner, not bare his damaged soul. "What do you need to be happy?"

She was silent for a moment, and he could hear her breathing into the phone.

"Jack....you....just you."

"My god, Claire, if that's all," he said gently, but with great emotion, "You've got me."

*****

The following day, both Claire and Chet spent the morning doing arraignment hearings. Jack spent his morning arguing pre-trial motions in Part 93, for the Taglioni case.

Claire and Chet arrived back at Center Street within 15 minutes of each other, and Jack was no where to be seen. When Chet found his way over to Claire's cubicle, they had just a little over and hour and fifteen minutes before they were due in Pongracic's chambers. Claire had hoped to have lunch with Jack, but since he was in parts unknown for the time being, she accepted Chet's "nothing fancy" invitation to dine with him at a little cafe around the corner from the courthouse.

Despite the task ahead of them (swaying Judge Pongracic in favour of the prosecution was never an easy feat), Claire was in high spirits as she hungrily consumed the chicken Caesar salad she had ordered for lunch. The telephone conversation she had with Jack the previous evening had served to put a smile on her face that had yet to go away. Jack obviously had very deep feelings for her, as he had displayed, and it warmed her heart. She was a little shocked at the depth of feeling she had for Jack, but it was a pleasant sort of shock, like getting an incredible gift you never knew you wanted. Her pulse quickened just thinking about it, about him: about seeing him, hearing his voice, gazing into his piercing brown eyes.

Claire snapped out of her reverie to Chet staring at her expectantly. He had obviously just asked her something that required an answer, and he was waiting for one.

"I'm sorry," Claire apologised, "What did you say?"

"Thanks a lot Claire," Chet said, mock-offended.

"For what?"

"You sure as hell know how to boost a guy's ego," he laughed good-naturedly. "I asked if you had any plans for Friday night."

"Actually, Chet, I do have plans."

"Alright, then. How 'bout Saturday?"

"I don't think it would be wise, Chet."

"Why, because we work together?" he inquired.

"Well, there is that," said Claire, "But the real reason is that I'm....well... 'involved' with someone."

"Oh," said Chet. "Well, fair enough."

Chet smiled to show her there were no hard feelings.

Claire beamed back at him, flattered.

"Whoever he is," said Chet, "He's a lucky guy."

Claire blushed. "Thank you."

Chet glanced down at his watch, "We'd better go, if we don't want a contempt charge for keeping Pongracic waiting."

*****

A little later, Claire and Chet, along with Richard Parker, a cuffed and shackled Alex Gordon (who was accompanied but two armed officers), Judge Lisa Pongracic, and her court reporter were seated (except for the officers) in Pongracic's chambers.

"I have your motion to suppress here, Mr. Parker," said Pongracic.

"Yes, your honour," stated Parker. "We contend that the prosecution is violating the rules of discovery withholding exculpatory evidence from us. Namely, the DNA samples in the People's possession."

"Ms. Kincaid?" asked Pongracic.

"Your Honour?"

"Why didn't you give any of these samples to the defense for examination?" queried the judge.

"All of the samples are relatively small, Your Honour."

"Still, some provision might have been made wherein both parties could have conducted tests," replied the judge.

"Begging your honour's pardon," started Claire, careful not to rile Pongracic, "But the samples were so small that to have given up even 10% of them would have ruined any chance of accuracy. The people offered to find a third, impartial party to conduct the test, on behalf of both the prosecution and the defense. Mr. Parker was not amenable to this idea, and in the interest of time, I had the tests run. And despite Mr. Parker's negative reply, I did indeed have the tests conducted by an unbiased forensic facility."

"In complete disregard for the Rules of Discovery?" asked Parker.

"Well, Ms. Kincaid?" queried Pongracic.

"Your Honour, the Rules of Discovery say that we have to turn over to the defense all evidence that will be used at trial, or that suggests an alternate version of the crime," argued Claire. "We will be using the test results as our evidence at trial, not the samples themselves. Further..."

"You're arguing semantics, Ms. Kincaid," said Parker, interrupting. He turned to the Judge, "Your Honour. The defendant has a right to examine all relevant evidence to be used against him at trial. The DNA samples are certainly relevant, since even though they themselves will not be used against my client at trial, the results of the tests conducted on the samples will be. We have the right to examine this evidence, these samples, ourselves."

"Your Honour, I reiterate that the samples were not of sufficient size to support 2 sets of tests," said Claire.

"Alright, counselors," stated Judge Pongracic, "have your briefs to my clerk in the morning."

"I've got mine right here, Your Honour," announced Richard Parker.

"As do I," said Claire.

"Oh?" Pongracic eyebrows flew up. She admired the fervour of youth. "Fine. I'll let you know when I've made my decision."

"Meanwhile, Your Honour," began Parker, "My client sits in jail."

"Don't push it, Counselor," Pongracic said in an icy tone, "Your client is accused of some pretty heinous crimes."

"Yes, Your Honour."

*****

"So, what do you think?" Jack asked Claire later, when she was sitting in his office. They were sitting on his couch. Jack's hands were behind his head, and he was slouching into the sofa, long legs outstretched. Claire was next to him, shoes off, feet tucked under her.

"I don't know Jack," she replied. "You know how unpredictable Pongracic can be. Did I ever tell you about the time Ben Stone was nearly arrested in her chambers for contempt?"

"No! Really?" asked Jack. "What happened?"

"We were prosecuting a racist serial killer, who was blowing away his victims with a sawed-off shotgun. There was a copycat crime while our suspect was being held at Rikers, and the defense attorney managed to convince Pongracic that we had the wrong guy in custody," explained Claire, a little discomfited by the way Jack was staring at her as she told the story. "So she let the guy back on the street. Ben was hard-assing her about it, and she gave him a warning. Eventually he said something to the effect that she would rather charge him with contempt than keep a vicious serial killer off the streets. If I hadn't intervened, she would've had him arrested."

"What did you do?" questioned Jack.

"I told Ben I'd use my prior working relationship with Judge Rodriguez to get a warrant to arrest the suspect."

Jack laughed. "What'd Pongracic say to that?"

"She told Ben to give me a raise, that it was because of me that he wasn't walking out of her chambers in handcuffs." said Claire, chuckling at the memory.

"That would've been a sight to see," said Jack. "Ben Stone in handcuffs.;"

"Jack!" scolded Claire.

"Oh, c'mon Claire," he said, "I'm just imaging how ridiculous a sight it would have been."

Claire glanced at her watch.

"Somewhere to go?" asked Jack.

"Gym" replied Claire, "It's been over a week and I'm starting to feel sluggish. I need a good work out, helps clear my head."

Jack smiled rakishly at her. "Far be it from me to stand between you and your lucidity."

Claire grinned. "Why, how kind of you."

"We're all through here," he said. "You can go whenever you like. But if you wait a few minutes, I'll walk down to the garage with you."

"I think I have a few moments I can spare you," she winked at Jack.

*****

Nothing spectacularly noteworthy happened Thursday. Pongracic had yet to render her decision. Claire again spent most of her morning doing arraignments. Jack had work on Taglioni and a few of the other cases Claire was no longer assisting him on. They were both too busy at lunch time to take a lunch hour together, and when Jack was finally done with his morning round of meetings, Claire was still hard at work, so he ordered in, and ate in his office, alone. Later, when Claire had time, she did the same.

The day passed quickly, despite it's monotony, due to the shear volume of work any ADA had at a given time. And both Jack and Claire had more cases pending at any time than the rest of the ADAs.

Around 4 in the afternoon, Claire got word: The councilman Talbert jury had come in. She strolled across to Jack's office and entered without knocking.

"Jack, the Talbert jury is in," she informed him.

"Great," he replied, "Let's get over to the courthouse."

*****

Talbert came in guilty. Jack was so pleased at their victory, he nearly threw his arms around Claire, right there in the courtroom.

*****

A little while later, Jack and Claire were sitting in Adam's office, watching him gather his things to head out for the weekend, enjoying the celebratory drink he had poured each of them in honour of the Talbert victory. Also in honour of the victory, he had given them the rest of the week off (meaning Friday).

"Have to admit," he told them, "You two have impressed me. I thought there was no chance in hell you'd come up in the win column with this one."

"We owe it all to Sarah Maslin," said Claire, "Without her testimony, there's no way we could've won."

Claire looked over at Jack, leaning lazily over the arm of Adam's couch, hair slightly messy from having changed his clothes, and imagined she could almost make out a blush from Adam's compliment on his cheeks, but decided it was just the flush of victory.

"I love making new law," said Jack, standing, upon finishing his drink.

Adam had put on his over-coat, and was moving toward the door, so Claire hurriedly gulped down the rest of her scotch.

"Yeah, well, enjoy it for a couple of months" said Adam.

"You're so sure it'll be over-turned on appeal?" queried Claire.

"I don't think it'll make it through the appeals process," he replied, as Jack and Claire stepped into the hallway. The entire floor was empty, but for the 3 of them, and dark, except for the light above Claire's desk, and the lights in Jack's office.

"You think the legislature will preempt the Court of Appeals?" asked Jack.

Adam shut the door of his office, saying, "I think our prisons will be too crowded if they don't."

They walked Adam to the elevator, and said their "good-byes" and "have a good weekends" as he got in. The door closed, and Jack and Claire were alone. She walked back to her cubicle, and standing at her desk, began to place some files in her attaché case. Jack moved up behind her, close enough that his body nearly touched hers. He moved her hair aside, and began placing gentle kisses on the back of her neck.

"Mmmmm" she sighed, leaning into him.

He wrapped his arms around her, as he nuzzled the crook of her neck. His lips trailed up the side of her neck until he was kissing the line of her jaw. She turned her head to him, and their lips met. He rotated her to him, and pressed her against her desk, their kiss deepening considerably. She felt his tongue running along her upper lip, and she opened her mouth a little wider, thrusting her tongue out to meet his. His hands stroked her back, and she was running her hands through his soft, grey hair.

She was sucking lightly on his bottom lip when he pulled his head away, smiling, and asked simply, "Dinner?"

"You got it," she replied. "But can we go by my place, first, so I can change?"

"Of course. Take your car, and I'll follow you on my bike. Then you can be my biker babe all night..." his voice trailed off as he imagined the possibilities.

"Lech," she grinned.

*****

Jack sat on Claire's sofa while she changed, petting the cat he hadn't noticed she had during his previous visits. The cat, a big, fat, short haired Morris the Cat look-a-like, climbed onto his lap, kneaded his thigh for a moment ("thank God for the thickness of denim" he thought to himself), then laid down, purring loudly, as he continued to stroke it. He was too busy petting the cat to notice that Claire had emerged from her bedroom, wearing a tight-fitted, long-sleeved, crushed-velvet black top tucked into a pair of button-fly 501s with a black leather belt, and was standing, arms folded across her chest, leaning against the arched entry way to her living room.

"I'm jealous," she said, finally, startling him a little. "Looks like Miss Kitty has made another conquest."

"Miss Kitty? That's her name?" he asked.

"No. Her name's Lucia, Lucy for short. Miss Kitty's one of her nick-names."

"She's great."

"Yeah, she's a sweetheart," Claire agreed, "but don't let her get too comfortable there, or she'll start to drool on you."

He laughed loudly, and Lucy , annoyed, jumped from his lap. He stood, brushing cat hair from his Levi's, and walked over to Claire. Wrapping his arms around her, he buried his face in her hair, saying, "You look great."

"You don't look so bad yourself, counsellor," she replied. The man COULD wear a pair of jeans.

"Ready to eat?" he asked.

"Mmmhmm," she said as she felt him beginning to nibble on her ear lobe. "I've got an idea. There's a great little Italian place a couple of blocks from here. It's not that cold out tonight. We could walk. Interested?"

"Only if you promise to drink a bottle of wine with me," he smiled.

"I think that can be arranged."

*****

He ordered them a bottle of expensive red wine, and they enjoyed a leisurely meal, supping upon warm bread and delicious pasta. They were seated in a round booth toward the back of the dining room, sitting very close to each other. They were telling each other anecdotes about their respective pasts: some hysterical, some mildly amusing, and some, rather sad.

When their waiter appeared to clear their plates, Jack looked at his watch and realised, to his chagrin AND delight, that two and a half hours had passed by. The waiter asked if they wished for another bottle of wine.

Jack, looking at Claire, who was looking at him with a dubious expression on her face, replied, "No, thanks, we'll just take the check now, please."

"Very well," replied the waiter.

When he was gone, Jack slid his arm behind and around Claire, and she scooted closer to him on the seat. They were just a little pass tipsy, but had not yet consumed enough to be drunk. The wine was making their insides feel very warm, and had worked to loosen some of their inhibitions. Jack pulled Claire's hair aside, and began kissing her neck again. Her stomach flipped over inside her. He moved to kiss her lips, but at that moment, the waiter returned with the check, which Jack quickly paid.

Out on the street, in the cool night air, Jack grabbed Claire's hand as they walked the four blocks back to her apartment. Whenever they had to stop to wait for the green light of the pedestrian crossing, they would turn to one another and snuggle.

By the time they reached her apartment building, he was no longer holding her hand, but had his arm wrapped around her waist. Once inside the building, they walked to the elevator, which was, for once, working, and stepped inside. The door closed and he pulled her to him roughly, kissing her passionately. They were holding each other tightly when the elevator door opened to her floor. They stepped into the hallway, and Jack began kissing her again, as he slowly moved her backward toward her door. He pinned her against the door, still kissing her, hands on either side of her head.

Just then, someone from the apartment down the hall from hers came into the hallway. Embarrassed, they pulled apart, and Claire, fumbling a little with her keys, opened her door as quickly as she could manage.

"I feel like a teenager caught in the act," he told her, closing her door behind him. They both laughed at that, as they removed their coats.

They stood there, looking at each other for a moment, feeling somewhat awkward. Finally, Jack closed the distance between them, pulling Claire into another deep kiss. There were no cat and mouse games in this kiss: their tongues met before their lips did. His hands moved from her waist to her back, sliding lower, until he was running his palms over her backside. Moving his hands up higher, he began to pull her top out from her jeans, then moved them around so that he could do likewise with the front.

Claire felt wanton. Never before had she let a man get this far with her this fast, but there was an undeniable connection between herself and Jack. And never before had she desired a man as much as she did the one who was with her now. Part of her brain told her to slow down, the rational part, but the emotional part screamed back, "Don't stop! Don't think! Just feel."

He slid his hands under her shirt, running them up her sides, feeling her ribcage, revelling in her sharp intake of breath as his hands closed over her breasts.

Her mind was whirling, she wanted him badly, and was rapidly losing control of herself. "Jack," she gasped, wrenching her head away from his. "Jack!" she called again, when he didn't respond.

"Hmmm?" he sighed, kissing her neck as he began to rub her nipples with the tips of his thumbs.

She moaned a little, almost forgetting what it was she needed to say. "God I want you to stay with me tonight." That wasn't what you were supposed to say, she told herself!

"I think that can be arranged," he told her, his voice ragged with desire, echoing her earlier sentiments about the wine. His intent was clear.

"Do you...do you have any...protection?" she asked.

He groaned. "No. Don't you?"

Biting her lower lip, she shook her head.

"Damn," he snorted, "Now I really feel like a teenager."

"We'll have to wait..." she said, disappointed, turning her back to him and trying to regain control of herself.

They were both completely frustrated: they had enjoyed an entire week of mental and physical foreplay, and were eager to possess one another. He moved up behind her, pressed himself up against her, and resumed kissing her neck. God! but he loved to kiss her long, elegant neck. And she loved the feeling of his arms around her; his lips on her skin. She turned to him, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him, hard. Before she could protest, his hands were under her shirt again, and he was attempting to unhook her bra.

"Jack," she said against his mouth, "Jack. What're you doing?"

He pulled his head back, finally achieving success with her bra. His hands slid under the cups, and she felt his slightly rough hands graze over her nipples as he said, "You said no sex." He smiled rakishly at her, taking in her reaction to his hands caressing her flesh. "You didn't say anything about foreplay." With that, he scooped her up, and strode confidently into her bedroom.

In the dim light from the nite-lite in her bathroom, he could just make out the features of her face as he set her down so that she was kneeling on the edge of the bed, arms round his neck.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to start something we we're not going to finish?" she was looking at him quizzically, wanting to move ahead, but worried that she wouldn't have the presence of mind to put on the brakes once they'd begun their journey down passion's road. She couldn't recall ever having wanted a man as much as she wanted Jack at this moment, and the force of her desire surprised her.

"Shhhhh," he said in a hoarse whisper, kissing her, "we'll stop whenever you say." He hugged her close. She placed one of her hands on his shoulder, and with the other, manipulated his head so that his neck was exposed to her. She nipped gently at the crook of his neck, then made a line with her tongue to his ear lobe, which she nibbled lightly between her teeth.

His hands were on her waist, and he grabbed the bottom of her velvet top, pulling it slowly up. She raised her arms above her head, and he pulled it off of her, removing her unhooked bra, as well, and tossed them aside. He stepped back for a moment, to look at her, and marveled at her beauty. He took her face in his hands, and when he kissed her again, he could feel her fingers nimbly undoing the buttons of his white shirt. She undid his belt and the top button of his fly, in order to remove the shirt easier, and soon his chest was just as bare as hers.

They wrapped their arms around each other, exulting, at last, in the feel of skin on skin. He pulled her off the bed, so that she was standing in front of him. He ran his hands over her shoulders, her breasts, her stomach. He reached her waist, undid her belt and the buttons of her 501s. His hands slid round to her back, and he slipped them down inside the back of her jeans. He squeezed her cotton-panty covered behind softly. Removing his hands, he began to work her Levi's down over her hips. With the weight of the belt, they fell to her ankles, and, sitting down on the bed, she removed her shoes, and kicked off her jeans. Jack sat down next to her and she played with his hair and kissed his neck as he began to remove his boots. While he worked on his shoes, she crossed over to her dresser and lit the big purple candle that sat on top. By this time, he was barefoot, and staring in wonder at her when she turned and walked toward him.

The light from the candle made her appear incandescent, and his mouth dropped open slightly. "You're a goddess," he told her reverently. She stood between his legs, placing her hands on his shoulders, and leaned down, bringing her lips to his. His hands were on her breasts again, and her head dropped back from the sensation. He buried his head in the valley between her breasts, and it wasn't very long before she felt his mouth close over one nipple, and then, after a few moments, the other. He felt her shivered response, and stood up, turning her so that her back was to the bed.

She put her hands on his wrists, then ran them up his arms, over his shoulders, down over his naked chest, down his sides, stopping only when she had hooked one finger from each hand in a belt-loop. She yanked roughly, and they toppled backward, onto the bed, so that he was lying partly on top of her. He rolled them over until they were on their sides, facing one another. They lay like that, arms and legs entwined, kissing deeply, for several long moments. Her arms were wrapped around him, and he could feel her nails biting into the flesh of his back as one of his hands stroked her backside and the other cupped a breast.

She rolled onto her back, pulling him with her, and he settled himself between her legs. Her hands touched his face as he kissed her, and, without realising he was doing so, he began to move atop her. Claire's head fell to the side as she moved with him, welcoming the desire for him she felt churning in the pit of her stomach. She could feel the hardness of him pressing against her through his jeans, and was having trouble catching her breath when he began to kiss her all over: first her hair, then her face, her lips, the hollow at the base of her neck. He was moving down slowly: her shoulders, her chest, the valley between her breasts. Here he paused for a lateral assault on each nipple, before continuing down her willowy torso: her ribcage, her stomach. He ran his tongue along the outskirts of her navel, before letting it dart inside.

He got up, then, and, grabbing her gently by the waist, pulled her until her legs were dangling over the side of the bed. He hooked his fingers in the sides of her panties, and before she could divine his purpose, she was lying before him without a stitch of clothing. He was once again struck by her loveliness, and ran his hands over her body as he knealt between her legs. He bent down and kissed her belly, and then, moved his head lower. She arched her body to meet his mouth, and soon, she found herself moaning audibly and writhing beneath the tender ministrations of his tongue.

His tongue moving on her was having a profound effect, and she felt as though a white-hot bolt of lightning was passing through her body with agonising slowness. She could feel the climax beginning to build within her, and realised that they were rapidly approaching the point of no return. If she didn't put a stop to this soon, she had grave doubts about her ability to stop it.

She grabbed his hair and wrenched his head away from her. "Jack!" she cried.

He moved back onto the bed: back over her. He began his assault of her neck again, and she reluctantly pushed him away. "Jack...we...have to...stop," she panted.

He groaned, and she felt his body sag against hers for a moment, before he rolled away from her. They lay next to each other, breathing heavily. After a few moments, Claire began to giggle.

"What?" he asked.

"It's just..." she said, the giggle turning into more of a laugh, "God, I need a cold shower."

His chuckle shook the bed. "Tell me about it."

"I haven't done THAT," she told him, rolling over to cuddle next to him, her arm across his chest, "since I was in high school."

They laughed, hard.

When the laughter had subsided, Claire got up and walked across to her dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a clean pair of underwear and a white cotton tank top. Jack got off the bed, and it appeared as though he was gathering his clothes to leave. She walked into her bathroom, put the underwear and tank top on, brushed the mats out of her hair, and returned to her bedroom.

She found Jack sitting on the edge of her bed, his clothes folded neatly on the big, hunter green, over-stuffed comfy chair in the corner. He was wearing only a pair of dark blue silk boxers at this point, and Claire smiled at him. He stood up, and she moved over to the bed, pulling back the covers. As she did so, he went to her dresser, blew out the candle, and returned to the bed.

They got into bed, pulling the covers over them, and turned to each other, limbs entwining. Their lips met again, softly. They lay in each others arms, kissing, touching, and holding each other for many long minutes, until sleep found them, locked in an embrace.

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