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Monday, November 19, 2012

The Nooner



Jack McCoy was sitting at his desk. He'd just gotten off the phone. A case had come across his desk early in the week, a rape case in which the victim had been brutally beaten and savagely raped by a man she'd met at a sex club down in the industrial portion of Manhattan. He'd been on the phone with the manager of that very club just moments before.

The manager had made Jack's skin crawl, but he had been forced to speak to the man because it was imperative that they be able to interview club employees who had been working that night, as well as any customers that could be recognized as having been there that night: one of them might be able to offer crucial evidence.

The door to his office opened and a tall, lean young woman with dark hair and shiny dark eyes walked in, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Hey, Jack," she said when she walked in.

"Hi, Claire," he said rather dispassionately.

Claire Kincaid dropped her attaché case to the floor and sat on the other side of the desk from Jack.

"There's a warm welcome...you sure know how to make a girl feel wanted, McCoy."

"Sorry, Claire," he said regretfully. "Just got off the phone with that sleaze O'Riordan who runs the sex club where Melinda Strusis picked Andrew Drummond up."

"So...is it all set up? When do I go? They're going to co-operate when I go down to investigate?"

Jack nodded, "When 'we' go, Claire."

"You're going to take witness statements with me?" she asked. Normally, Jack couldn't be bothered to do the leg work --he'd done enough of it as an ADA in his own early days in the DA's office-- and left the evidence gathering to Claire or the members of the DA's investigatory squad, including detectives Briscoe and Logan.

"If you think I'm letting you walk into that kind of place alone..."

She stopped him, getting a little annoyed. He'd never tried the protective bit with her before, and she found it a tad annoying. "Jack...I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself. I've lived in this city for most of my life."

Jack shrugged. "Call it old-fashioned, call it male chest-thumping, call it anything you like, but there's no way in hell I'm sending my girlfriend into a snake pit without back-up."

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to let our personal relationship spill over into work?" she queried. It was early in May, and they had been dating since mid-January, when, after work one night, they had gone out for drinks and dinner and ended up back at Jack's place, making incredible love to one another. After a weekend spent in conjugal bliss, they had postponed the physical aspect of their relationship for over a month and a half, finally coming together again one delightful night early in March.

"We did," he agreed.

"So?"

"Claire...I just want to...make sure no one...says anything to you...or tries anything. I know you think I'm being sexist and over-protective...but I'd never forgive myself if something..." his voice trailed off, and he was unable to finish voicing the thought. Claire was so alive and vibrant, that the thought of something happening to her was almost unfathomable to him.

Claire's gaze softened, and she nodded evenly. "Okay, Jack," she relented, "I won't argue with you about it anymore." His concern touched her deeply. "When do we go?"

"We have to be there by 11 this morning."

Claire looked at her watch: 10:20. "Maybe we should go?"

Jack nodded. "Get your coat." It was spring, but a light weight coat was still necessary.


*****

They got out of Claire's car just before 11. They were in the industrial district, surrounded by warehouses. Jack searched out the warehouse they were looking for: It looked to be an abandoned factory of some sort.

"It's that one," he told her, and they headed over, walking with purpose.

As they neared the building, the faint sounds of some form of industrial music emanated from somewhere within. As they approached, a heavy door slowly pulled back a ways. Jack looked over at Claire, an uneasy expression on her face, and stepped through the opening, Claire right behind him. They were greeted by two large men in dark suits, obviously bodyguards of some sort by the shear hulking bulk of each of them.

"Jack McCoy, Claire Kincaid," Jack said, indicating the two of them. "We're from the District Attorney's office."

One of the men nodded silently and pointed Jack and Claire toward a staircase. They took in their surroundings as they headed for that staircase. It was indeed an old factory, as they mechanized chains, dormant now, hanging form the ceilings indicated. Now, the factory floor was sprawled with tattered sofas and chairs, spread willy-nilly throughout the dank, high-ceilinged expanse of the factory floor.

Jack reached the staircase a nanosecond before Claire, and they glanced down the dark, gaping hole in the floor, the only light that of the sun pouring in through the windows high on the factory walls, and an eerie green glow in front of a door at the bottom of the stairs. Jack started to descend, hearing the music getting closer and closer, feeling it coursing through his body as he moved down the stairs, sensing Claire's presence close behind him.

A man clad in leather and steel stepped out of the corner when Jack and Claire reached the bottom of the stairs. Claire jumped at the sight of the man, who had seemingly come out of no where. She was starting to feel very grateful that Jack had insisted on accompanying her down here. The leather and steel man opened the door, and a smoky red light oozed out, engulfing them, as did the music, instantly, as they stepped into the room.

For the two of them, it was like they were stepping into another world...a sort of shadow or sub-world behind or below our own.

Claire was more than shocked by what she saw. Despite the fact that it was late morning in the middle of the week, the club had more than a few patrons.

"Don't these people work?" she said loudly into Jack's ear, wondering how in the hell they were going to hear the people they'd come to interview.

"For some of them, I think this IS work," he replied.

Just then, a woman in a tight rubber body suit seemed to suddenly coalesce from the crowd moving on the dance floor. She approached them. "You the two from the DA's office?" she asked, obviously an employee.

Jack nodded.

"Tommy's waiting for you...this way," she said and started back the way she'd come. Jack lay his hand on Claire's back and she started after the woman, Jack hot on her heels.

Walking through the crowded dance floor had been a mistake, though Claire suspected the woman had led them this way on purpose: they were groped and pulled at by hands and arms all around them as they moved through the crowd. Leather and rubber and metal surrounded them, pulling at hair and clothes. They finally emerged from the crowd with a heavy sigh of relief from both.

As they emerged, they came upon a series of metal cages, each hanging from the ceiling on a different length of chain. A woman in a chain-mail corset crouched in one. Two leather clad lovers were in another, locked in an ardent embrace. The rest of the cages were empty. Claire couldn't help but gawk at the things she was seeing around her. Off in the corner, several couples were pouring thick, coloured liquid over one another that seemed to mesh with their skin.

"Liquid latex" the rubber woman told her when she followed Claire's gaze. "It dries and feels incredible."

Claire nodded and they resumed their trek. Jack was wondering how clubs like this managed to exist within the view of the law, wondered why in the hell the proprietor of such a place would have allowed members of the criminal justice system to come down here and see the goings on. Along one wall a man, naked but for two leather straps that criss-crossed his chest, was shackled by his wrists to two metal rings protruding from the wall, and by his ankles to two metal rings on the floor. A woman knelt before him, and it was obvious to anyone who looked at them that she was slowly working his member in and out of her mouth.

Claire blushed at the site and turned her head away. "How could someone do that in front of an audience?" she wondered, not understanding the inclination behind the exhibitionist fetish. Jack cleared his throat and they continued on.

A cocktail waitress carrying a tray of drinks passed them. She wore a corset made of leather with steel boning that cinched her waist and made her uncovered breasts swell out so that they seemed to be spilling from the corset. Her panties were leather with a zipper that ran down the center from the front to the back. She wore painful looking nipple clamps, a spiked choker and wristbands. In a minute, they were passed by a man who appeared to be 30-ish pulling a girl not much beyond 18 years old around the place by a leash. The girl looked remarkably like Claire, only younger, and a tad more plump.

The music was horribly loud. "What do they call this crap?" Jack asked Claire, thinking maybe she'd know.

"It's Nine Inch Nails, Jack," she told him loudly.

"Sounds like crap!"

Claire nodded her agreement.

The music pulsed all around and through them, and they were finding it difficult to both hear people and concentrate. The smell of smoke and sweat and liquor filled the air. All around them people in various types of bondage gear and S&M costumes in various states of undress were performing various sexual acts on one another. Thankfully, nothing like what either of them had heard went on at these places was happening around them, and Jack wondered if perhaps the patrons of this establishment had been warned to be on better behaviour than usual because of the interloping District Attorneys. He thought it likely that they HAD been warned, or he and Claire would have been witnessing acts of a far more deviant, degenerate nature. Some of the visions before them were indeed shocking, but more because of the fact that they were being performed semi-publicly.

Eventually, they were lead to a wide corridor filled with 2 way mirrors like those utilized by law enforcement officials. There were 4 such windows, two on each side, revealing rooms whose walls were lined with the sex toys and the paraphernalia and accoutrements of bondage and S&M practices. Only two of the rooms were occupied, and Claire thanked her lucky stars that the acts taking place in these 'private' rooms were not TOO deviant: in one, a blindfolded woman was on her hands and knees pleasing a man with her mouth while another man took her from behind. In the other room, a slave/master situation seemed to be going on... a woman adorned totally in plastic and rubber, down to her thigh high shiny black plastic boots reclined in an odd looking chair. The man with her, wearing a pair of tight leather shorts was on his knees apparently polishing his mistress' boot with his tongue.

Their guide opened a door at the end of the hall and they stepped into a large office, finding a rather good looking man standing behind his desk, a woman, bared from the waist up laid out in front of him. The man, a decade or so younger than Jack, his brown hair showing only the faintest signs of silver, had a pouty, full mouth and eyes as silver as the few strands in his hair. He was handsome in that dangerous, rakish sort of way, but there was something about him that both Jack and Claire latched onto. A darkness lingering behind the attractive exterior.

The room must have been sound proof, for once the door was closed, the loud music did not permeate the walls.

He eyed Claire in much the same manner he looked at the woman on his desk, and Claire felt the repulsion rise in the pit of her stomach. Jack saw the look, as well, and felt his anger rise.

With a wave of his hand, Thomas O'Riordan dismissed his 'plaything' and sat behind his desk.

When the girl was gone, he asked, "Can I get you something to drink?" He had a raspy, deep voice.

They both declined, and Jack got down to business. He asked the man a slew of questions, Claire piping in whenever she thought of something Jack had left out (which wasn't often). For each question, O'Riordan had a slick, prepared answer designed to paint the club in the most positive light possible. Nothing beyond a little light bondage, some spirited spanking, and the use of a riding crop was encouraged by the proprietors of the club. If anyone was seen getting out of hand in their fantasy fulfillment, they were quickly escorted from the club and kindly asked not to return. He hadn't been in his office 'amusing' himself with several playmates that night, and could offer no insight into their case.

O'Riordan, when he felt the questions were getting a little too close to discovering what actually went on in the club, promptly ended the interview, telling them to talk to anyone in the club they felt they needed to.

"Would you mind letting us use your office to talk to the people?" asked Claire, realizing it would be impossible to speak to anyone about anything in the noise-filled main-room of the club.

"I'm afraid I do mind," he told her, eyeing her again, "I've got another appointment in a few minutes and I'm going to need the use of the office. If you like, you can use one of the quiet rooms."

"Quiet rooms?" asked Jack.

"You saw the rooms as you walked down the hall?"

They nodded.

"Mr. O'Riordan... I don't think I have to tell you that those rooms are not conducive to conducting an effective interview of a potential witness," said Jack, standing. "I'll expect a list of staff working that night by the end of the week, as well as any patrons you think might have relevant information. We'll set up interviews that are more...appropriate."

"Fine, Mr. McCoy," said O'Riordan curtly, "I'll see you have your list by the end of the week."

They were effectively dismissed. Claire stood and she and Jack moved toward the door.

"Feel free to have a drink or two on the house before you leave...or anything else that might...catch your fancy..." the man said lasciviously as Jack pulled the door shut behind them.

Out in the corridor, the music once again began to overwhelm them. In the 'quiet rooms' the tableaux had changed slightly. The 'slave' was now dutifully servicing his mistress, and the two men had switched places in the other room. Jack regarded the scenes before him for a moment, then looked over at Claire and gave her a look, which she didn't think was intentional, that caused her to blush and look away.

They headed back out to the main room. Jack checked his watch. Just noon.

"Do you want to grab a drink while we're here?" he asked her loudly. They had been known to have a glass of scotch with Adam in the middle of the work day on occasion, and one drink here wouldn't necessarily be frowned upon. What's more, it would only be 'one' drink...no one would ever have to know about it.

Claire was about to say no, but decided, "What the hell?" and answered in the affirmative.

"C'mon," said Jack, taking her by the arm and leading her into the main room, and over to the bar.

Much the same scene was taking place in that room, some of the people having removed more clothing. The man who had been receiving pleasure from the mouth of a woman was still chained to the wall but the woman had left him there, chained, and had obviously not sated him.

They went over to the bar. Jack ordered a vodka rocks and Claire a rum and coke. Speech was impossible, and so they sat silently sipping their drinks, trying to stifle their curiosity to glance around the room, mouths agape at some of the things they'd be seeing. It was impossible not to see some of it though, for there were couples along the walls on either side of the bar, and the entire wall behind the bar was a large mirror, making the rest of the room visible even when one's back was to it.

A short time passed, and Claire saw in the mirror the reflection of the young girl they had seen being lead around on a leash. She was being strapped to a wall that appeared to be covered by a faux-bear skin rug. When her arms and ankles were secured, the man with her tilted the wall back slightly, so that she was a little pass vertical. He had something in his hand --Claire couldn't make out what it was-- and he began to rub it all over his partner's body. Claire tried not to watch as the man dropped to his knees before the young woman and proceeded to rub the object all over her legs and thighs. He was being gentle with her, that much was obvious, and something about what he was doing to her was frankly exciting Claire.

Jack, too, had noticed the girl again, most likely because she appeared so much like Claire, and had been watching the events unfold between the Claire-look-a-like and her partner.

In a strange voice, he vaguely heard Claire say, "Jack...let's get out of here."

They left their drinks partially unfinished and stood up off of the bar stools. They had two paths they could choose to the door: through the crowded dance floor as they had come, through the hands tugging and pulling at them, or right pass the young girl who's visage was so like Claire's.

Jack headed for the latter, pulling Claire along with him by her hand. As they neared, it became obvious to them that the object the man held was some sort of vibrating device, though it was round, with dull spikes made of either rubber or plastic protruding. The girls mewling cries of pleasure became audible to them as her lover rolled his toy between her thighs. Suddenly, he left the toy and reached for the woman's hips, gripping them as he bent his head to the place his toy had so recently been.

Jack felt his groin beginning to stir as they stood there. Claire, too, was growing more excited by the scene in front of her. Her response rather puzzled her: she had never been interested in porn, had never been a voyeur. Jack looked over at her, at her lips, slightly parted as she stood with her eyes fixed on the couple before her.

She felt rather than saw Jack lean close to her. She felt his warm breath blow against her ear as he whispered roughly, "Let's go..." and pulled her toward the door. She offered no resistance and followed him, not looking back.

They were suddenly bathed in the eerie green light at the bottom of the staircase, and stood staring up at the daylight streaming in through the abandoned factory's windows.. Jack was preparing to move towards Claire when they became aware of the leather and steal clad man again. Claire started up the stairs, Jack a few paces behind, watching her as she ascended. Jack cursed the daylight, cursed that daylight meant work --in those dark and musky rooms, it had seemed night, like when you come out of a dark movie theatre, forgetting it's going to be daylight still.

As they strode across the factory floor towards the hulks in suits, Claire heard Jack say her name.

"Yes, Jack?" she said, slowing and turning as he closed the distance between them.

"When are we supposed to meet with Robertson?"

"2:30."

"Do you have any other appointments?"

She shook her head.

He smiled a little and picked up her hand, saying, softly, "Let's have lunch at your place."

She arched an eyebrow, "Lunch?"

But he was already heading for the opening that would take them back to the real world, pulling her with him.

There was no one around when they got to Claire's car, and even if there were, they were not known here, not likely to see anyone they did know. Near her trunk, Jack took a chance and pulled her to him. They wrapped their arms around one another and lost themselves in a reckless kiss.

They pulled apart suddenly and got into the car, buckled up and began to drive. As Claire navigated the streets, Jack, who generally slumped slightly to the right when riding in her car, adjusted himself so that his body was slumped in her direction instead. He wasn't leaning over very far...just enough to make it easy for him to reach over and rest his hand on the top of her thigh. He'd never tried anything like this in the car before --in the back of a cab, once-- and she decided for the moment to see what he'd do. As she expected, his hand started slowly moving upwards. It slipped under the fabric of her skirt, and she felt his hand slide further over so that it was running along her inner thigh.

She let him get a good way up her thigh before she reached down and moved his hand away, saying, "Jack...you'll make me kill us."

He sat back up and smiled at her, "We wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Nope."

Jack grinned hugely then slumped down to the right until they found themselves waiting at a stoplight in a bit of traffic. Jack sat up again and reached over to pull Claire's head over to his. He kissed her hard, and she kissed back, losing themselves in each other until they heard the honking from behind them. Flustered, Claire straightened up, released her brake foot and accelerated. Jack gazed at her from across the car again, noting the pleasant blush staining her cheeks.

It seemed to take them hours to get to Claire's, in reality only taking them about 20 minutes. It was twenty minutes to one, and they had to be back at the office for the meeting at 2:30. That didn't give them much time: 45 minutes at the most.

They started in the elevator. Jack's tie was undone, the top buttons of his shirt undone, as well, as they kissed hungrily, Jack's body pressing Claire's into the elevator wall. The elevator slowed and they pulled apart. Mrs. Harrington, Claire's neighbour, was in the hall waiting for the elevator, and eyed them knowingly, their slightly disheveled, flustered appearance and mussed hair speaking volumes.

They exchanged greetings and headed quickly down the hall to Claire's door. Jack pressed himself against Claire as she struggled to get her door open. The last lock gave and they were in the foyer and Jack was hurriedly trying to get Claire out of the black suit coat she wore as she attempted to manipulate the buttons of his shirt. Their mouths tugged relentlessly at one another. Claire felt Jack's hands at the top of her blouse, fumbling with the tiny buttons, trying desperately to get a handle on his need for haste so he wouldn't pop all the buttons off the blouse. With patience that surprised him, he managed to get all the buttons undone without damaging the garment, leaning down to kiss the swell of her bosom as his hands tried to loose the clasp of her front-clasp bra.

He fell to his knees as his hands slipped the cups back and he pulled her closer, his moist lips contacting the space between her breasts. He cupped each of them in a hand and turned his head to one side, taking one of the quickly hardening nubs into his mouth. He continued kneading her breasts as his mouth alternated between her nipples. One of her hands gripped his shoulder while the other one lightly stroked his hair as his lips and tongue worked her nipples into tight, firm peaks. Her breathing had become more labored.

Jack continued laving her nipples with his tongue as he dropped his hands so that he was gripping her kneecaps. His hands slid higher, beneath her skirt, and continued on up, over the backs of her thighs until his hands slid up and over the satin covered globes of her behind. He massaged gently for a few moments before gripping the waist band of her panties and drawing them down over her legs.

He stood suddenly, taking her face between his hands and kissing her, gliding his tongue over her lips and between them, seeking hers out, caressing it softly as he hands reached down to fondle her breasts once more. Claire slid her arms behind Jack, beneath the fabric of his open shirt, and the suit coat he still wore, and began to stroke the long, firm line of his back. Her hands glided along the waistband of his pants until they came around and rested in the front. He groaned in expectation as her hands undid his belt and manipulated the button and zipper of his dress pants. These pants were more loose than the jeans he wore as casual attire, and with the fly undone, and the weight of his belt, they quickly dropped down to his knees, leaving him standing there in his boxers, with his pants at his knees, his tie on the floor, his shirt and coat open.

Claire took a step backward and she was leaning against the door to the foyer closet. Jack waddled to her and they pressed the lengths of their bodies together, their mouths once again finding each other. Claire could feel the hardness of him against her lower abdomen, and she brought her hand up to caress his straining member through the warm silk of his boxers. Jack made a noise that sounded almost like a purr and began to draw Claire's skirt up, bending his head to once again tongue lightly at her stiff and aching nipples. She pushed at Jack's boxers and they slid down past his hips and buttocks.

Claire felt herself being lifted and pressed harder against the door at her back. She reached down and gripped the base of Jack's throbbing shaft and guided him easily into her. They had ceased using condoms a couple of weeks prior after both their tests had come back negative. He gripped one of her knees and drew her leg up so that her thigh was resting against his hip as he began to slowly move back and forth within her. This was not the time for the slow, gentle pace they had recently settled into when they made love. Their coupling was always erotic, always electric, but this time they would have sworn they could actually feel the current running back and forth between their heaving bodies. Claire brought her other leg up and Jack gripped the backs of her thighs as she wrapped her legs around him and he pushed fiercely into her.

Jack's pulsing manhood was working Claire into a frenzy as they moved as one being. She gripped his shoulders and arched her back as she welcomed the burning hardness that invaded her body and plundered her depths exquisitely. She felt herself cresting, felt her body begin to spasm as she called Jack's name, vaguely aware of her own name on his lips as his own release rocked through him, pouring into her. The blood pounding in her ears was more deafening than the music at the club had been.

He thrust deeply once, twice more, and then she felt him retreating from her, easing her to the floor as his lips lovingly tasted the salty flesh of her neck. He tilted her head back and lightly caressed her lips with his own before taking a step back. He reached out to smooth her hair back out of her face and smiled sweetly at her, the hair at the front of his head plastered to his forehead. Only then did Jack remove off his suit coat, tossing it onto the chair that lived next to the wall table in her foyer. He bent and pulled his boxers and pants back up as Claire re-clasped her bra and lowered her skirt back into place, trying to smooth out the wrinkles that had developed in the fabric.

"Still hungry?" she asked him.

He nodded and they headed for the kitchen.

Jack sat at the table and Claire opened the fridge. "Looks like I've got some leftovers in Tupperware...some lunch meat, eggs, fruit, yoghurt...I made chicken salad for dinner last night and there's enough left over," she said, "Want a chicken salad sandwich?"

"Sure," he said, watching her go to work on their lunch. He stood and went to the fridge as she made sandwiches out of the chicken salad and sourdough bread and retrieved the pitcher of iced tea. He went to the glass cupboard and took two glasses down and filled them both just as Claire had their sandwiches ready.

They sat at the table silently eating for a few minutes. They hadn't mentioned the club since leaving it. Seemingly out of no where, Claire asked, "Did you see that one guy? The big hulking guy in the corner who was merrily flogging himself?"

Jack nodded, grinning as he dabbed a napkin at the corner of his mouth. "Masochism to the Nth degree."

"That O'Riordan is such a sleaze," said Claire as she reached for Jack's free hand and gripped it in her own. "I'm glad you insisted I let you go with me..."

Jack raised her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly as he nodded.

They continued to eat for a few more moments, each of them reflecting on the things they'd seen in the club. Jack asked, "What was up with the boot-licking?"

"Dominatrix with a well-trained slave..." she said.

"And just what, pray tell, do you know about 'well-trained slaves'?"

"Not a damn thing."

"Just as I thought..."

He laughed as her napkin hit him in the face.

He reached over for her hand and pulled her out of her chair, so she was standing beside where he still sat in his. He pulled her in front of him and let his legs fall open so she could stand between them. Neither of them had bothered to button their shirts back up. Jack's hands reached for her waist and he leaned forward, placing a kiss against her smooth, flat stomach. His hands were sliding up her legs again.

"Jack....?" she queried softly, gazing down into his upturned face. "So soon?"

He nodded, saying, "We're on a limited schedule, here..."

She cupped his cheeks in her hands and bending at the waist, brought her lips down to his. He released her legs and busied himself fumbling with his belt and button and zipper, freeing his rapidly increasing organ, almost fully erect by now. He worked her skirt up again, her panties still on the wall table in the foyer. She felt herself being turned as he closed his legs and lowered her backward onto his lap. She gasped as he slid into her. He had taken her from behind before, but only in bed, in the spoons position. This new position left her breathless as she braced her hands on his knees, leaned forward slightly and began to move on him.

Jack gripped Claire's shoulders then slowly eased her blouse off of her, tossing it to the chair she had vacated. He planted a kiss between her shoulder blades and she shivered pleasantly feeling him still expanding inside of her as she rose up and down, using his knees for leverage. He gripped her waist next, slowing her pace down some, and then slid his arms further around her, slid them up higher until she was aware of him unclasping her bra again, sliding his hands into the open cups, his fingers toying maddeningly with her still erect nipples until he heard her whimper softly as she began to move faster.

Jack leaned forward and wrapped an arm securely around Claire's midriff, bracing his other hand against the small portion of chair he did not occupy. Holding her tightly to him, he pushed himself out of his chair and bent his legs at the knee, alleviating the height difference that existed between them even now, when she wore heels. He released her waist as he moved her closer to the table, still throbbing inside her. He took her wrists in his hands and placed her palms flat against the table, a good deal past shoulder width apart, moving plates and glasses and napkins as he did so.

He began to move against her as his hands ran down her slender arms. He covered her hands with his, entwining his fingers in the spaces between hers. She started to move with him and h kissed the back of her neck through her soft, sweet-smelling hair, the scent a mixture of her fragrant shampoo and her favorite perfume --Escape-- which had quickly become his favorite fragrance, too, the night he first smelt it as it emanated off the flesh of her long, elegant neck. He groaned into her hair at the memory of their first glorious night in each other's arms, then unentwined one of his hands from hers so that he might draw her hair aside.

Jack inhaled the scent along the side of Claire's neck deeply, before kissing it lightly. He kissed the sweet indentation just below her ear and then bit down softly on her sensitive earlobe, delighting in the low moan she expelled into the air in front of her. He moved his hand to her throat, barely gripping just beneath her chin. He turned her head sideways a bit, and tilted it back, craning his own around so that he could capture her lips in a kiss with ease.

Claire stood up straight --she had been bent over at the waist slightly, leaning her weight forward on her hands-- and draped her arm back and around Jack's neck, snaking her fingers into his ever graying hair. They continued kissing passionately as he pumped steadily in and out of her, their low moans increasing in volume in time with the increasing speed of Jack's thrusting.

Jack gripped Claire's waist again as his pace grew even more rapid. Claire felt the tightening inside her that she always experienced just before reaching her crisis, and she soon found herself thrusting her hips back against Jack with wanton abandon, her body demanding he thrust deeper, faster, as she felt her climax build and build. He drove her --and himself-- higher and higher. Claire closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on the liquid heat building in her loins; fingers of pleasure spreading through the rest of her body like flames lapping at a structure just before it is consumed by fire.

They were both striving hard, struggling toward the release that seemed to evade them as their passion built into a crescendo. It seemed to Claire that her mind had separated from her body and all she could do was concentrate on the intense pleasure coursing through her veins. She was vaguely aware of one of Jack's hands fluttering over her stomach. She felt a bolt of lightning flash through her body as Jack began to rub insistent circles over her inflamed womanly pearl.

Suddenly, Jack felt Claire begin to spasm in his arms as the first wave of her climax washed over her. She cried out, first arching back against him as the fiery orgasm rocked through her, then sagged forward, her hands against the table to keep her from falling as Jack continued to plunge deep and hard into her contracting body, his own release coming hard and fast on the tail of hers, which still consumed her.

Jack's weight sagged against her back, his hot breath labored, as was hers. She could feel his heart pounding against her back where he leaned against her and she smiled. Part of her mind was amazed that she'd survived this intense encounter --for a while there, she was afraid she might die if she didn't find her release soon.

Slowly, Jack withdrew from her, bent to pull up his boxers and trousers, then sank back down into the chair. Claire's skirt once again fell into place and he pulled her, turning her as he did so, down onto his lap. They were still breathing quite heavily when he stretched his neck up and met her lips with his own, softly now, the urgency sapped out of them.

Jack pulled slowly out of the kiss and gazed lovingly up at Claire, smoothing her hair with his palm as she lightly stroked his face. She smiled down at him lazily, through veiled eyes.

"Extraordinary," he murmured softly as his lips brushed against the vein leaping at the base of her throat.

"You too, lover," she whispered, taking his face in her hands and kissing him softly; first his lips, then his chin, the tip of his nose, his eyelids. Jack wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close.

He sat back in the chair and let his arms fall to his sides, gripping the chair legs just beneath the seat. He smiled almost smugly, looking satisfied beyond belief --and he was.

Her eyes sparkled down at him.

"I've never had a lunch time quickie before..." she confessed.

Jack smiled. "It's called a 'nooner', Claire."

Claire happened to glance at the clock above her kitchen door.

"Christ! Jack....it's 1:30...we should go...."

Jack nodded. "We might want to straighten up a bit first..."

Claire laughed. "We wouldn't want anyone thinking we'd partaken of forbidden fruit down at the sex club, now would we?" she asked mischievously.

"Nope."

"Know what?" she asked.

"What?"

"I think I want one of those fake bear-skin rugs...."

"Do you, now?" he asked, the light dancing in his eyes.

Claire nodded.

They kissed languidly for a moment, then set about getting ready to head back to the office.

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