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From: "Wine Maker" <wine_maker@eknifeshop.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Playing Doctor Chapter 3 (MF, Slow, Romantic Mystery)
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Author's Note:

The nomination period for the June, 2006 silver Clitorides is now open.
I, of course, urge those that like my work to nominate Finding Elvis
and will shamelessly use it as an example. <g> Please go to the
following site to nominate all your favorites:

/files/Collections/Clitorides/www/SCA_Current.htm#nom

Remember, you can nominate as many stories as you like, but make sure
and give them the story name, author and a link to the story. For
example:

Finding Elvis
Wine Maker
http://storiesonline.net/story/47292

or nominate via email to: silver-clt@hotmail.com

with a subject of: Silver Clitorides Award Nomination for June, 2006.

Please include the following information for all your nominations:


Finding Elvis
Wine Maker
http://storiesonline.net/story/47292

Regards,

Wine

-----

Sandy Craig is a busy young woman. Her life is all about her work as a
reconstructive surgeon and medical partnership. She doesn't have time
for a personal life, much less love. Keven Braddock is a well-to-do
artist on the rise like the space shuttle. Women throw themselves at
him and life is his oyster, but something is missing. When they meet,
something in their lives change.

Now if only things would stop going wrong and getting in the way of
them finding happiness. This has a real plot and three dimensional
characters. It's more than just a wanker.

Read this story on several sites and vote on each for me. Voting for my
stories encourages me to write more. Remember to vote for each chapter
on Literotica and on the last chapter on Storiesonline.

http://storiesonline.net/auth/Wine_Maker

http://english.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=560253&page=submissions


Playing Doctor
(c) 2006 by Wine Maker

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are
either the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.


Chapter Three: Emotional roller coaster

All I could see was the bore of the pistol pointed at my midsection.
The barrel looked wide enough to drive a bus through, and it was
pointed right at me. Then, with an odd moment of clinical detachment, I
noticed the blood on his hand, red and fresh.

He jarred me out of my thoughts by jabbing me hard in the side with the
pistol. "I said, 'Drive,' dammit!"

With my hands shaking in fear, I started the car and put it into
reverse. Somehow I managed to avoid hitting any other cars, though I
wasn't sure how. As I started forward into the street, I caught a
glimpse of another man running into the parking lot with his hand in
his jacket. His eyes seemed to fill my rear view mirror, cold and
without emotion. Like a snake's eyes. He peered into my soul, but not
in the positive way Keven did. I promptly, and without any rational
reasoning, decided he was even more dangerous than the gun-wielding
manic beside me.

"Turn right," the man with the gun said, "and make it snappy if you
want to live."

I was afraid I was already dead and I had no real choice. I pulled into
the street and turned right.

"Please don't kill me," I whimpered, giving voice to my fears.

He turned to me as he heard the sharp fear in my voice, but otherwise
ignored my plea. "Go straight ahead and turn toward the freeway," he
said instead. "Get on the freeway, and head toward the city limits."

Shivering to myself in quiet terror, I complied. The man continued to
stare at me, holding the gun steadily pointed towards me, even while he
pulled his other hand out of his pocket and spent a minute fiddling
with the seat controls, pushing the seat back. I knew I needed to find
some way to get him out of my car, or at least find a way to get him to
stop pointing the gun at me.

"You're bleeding," the doctor, the only calm part of me said. "I should
take you to the hospital."

He chuckled mirthlessly. "People die in hospitals, lady. Just drive the
fucking car."

"I'm a doctor. At least tell me what happened to you. Were you shot? I
may be able to help."

"Yeah, I was shot, but I'll live. Trust me on this one, 'cause I've
been shot worse before."

"Did Snake Eyes shoot you?" I asked as I pulled onto the freeway.

"Snake Eyes?" he asked, a frown on his face.

"The man who ran into the parking lot behind you."

My unwilling passenger began cursing and half turned in the seat to
look behind us. "Sonuvabitch! He'll be behind me somewhere. That
bastard never gives up." He looked back at me. "Get off the freeway."

"We just got on," I protested.

"Just get off the fucking freeway!" he shouted. "Do what I fucking tell
you!" There was a hint of real fear in his voice. He must have been
nervous, because he moved his seat even further back and grabbed my
purse.

"Just take the money," I said. "Please. There should be enough in there
for you to..."

"Shut up." He opened my wallet and took the cash. Then he stared at my
license. "How the hell is it you can get a decent DMV picture, and mine
looks like I just got outta bed?"

I didn't answer, completely bemused by the question, the kind a friend
might ask, the kind that made the madman seem human. He closed my
wallet after a moment and dropped my purse at his feet. Pulling off at
the next exit, I stopped at the red light and looked over at him as I
braked. He stared back challengingly. Looking past him, up the street
to the right, I sucked in my breath and pointed past him. "Is that
Snake Eyes?"

My captor twisted in the seat and his head darted as he searched for
his pursuer. I slipped the car into park and quietly popped my door
open. In a flash, I had the car turned off, the keys in my hand, and I
was hauling ass around the panel van beside us. A shouted curse behind
me made me tense up and expect excruciating pain between my shoulder
blades, but there were no shots.

Directly on the other side of the van was my dream come true, a
motorcycle cop staring at me like I'd lost my mind.

"A man with a gun is right behind me!" I shouted, running around the
motorcycle. "Help me!"

The cop never hesitated. He stood the bike on it's stand and hopped
off, pulling his gun just in time to confront my kidnapper as he
belatedly came around the van. "Police! Drop the weapon!" he shouted.

A look of despair came over the bleeding man, but he brought his gun up
anyway.

I screamed and turned my head, expecting to die. The crash of the
gunshot almost made me wet myself. Though my ears rang, I felt no pain,
so I opened my eyes in time to see the cop kicking the gun away from
the fallen man and calling for backup. He then twisted the twice-shot
man's hands behind him and cuffed him.

Part of me wanted to do nothing more than fall down and cry, but
something bigger in me simply couldn't do that, wouldn't let the
terrified part of me do that. So instead I walked shakily back to my
car, opened the trunk and got out my first aid kit. I ignored the
asshole honking his horn, resisting my sudden desire to throw a rock
through his windshield. The panel van had pulled away, leaving me
plenty of space as I set it beside the downed man.

"Stay away from him, Miss," the cop commanded me sharply.

"I'm a doctor," I said firmly. "I have to help him." Even as I said
that, some small voice inside of me raged that the doctor in me so
rigidly controlled who I was that I couldn't even react like a normal
person would. For an instant, I was shocked motionless by this insight,
but I ruthlessly shoved the thought away and went to work.

The cop muttered something at me that I didn't really hear and
grabbed his radio mike to give the dispatcher more information. In the
distance I could hear muted sirens getting louder.

I stared down at the man who had only moments before held my life in
his hand. Now our roles were reversed. I knelt beside him and ripped
his shirt open. He blinked at me, his eyes already losing focus. He was
going into shock. "Hey!" I screamed at him, "Focus on me. Stay with
me."

He smiled at me, though his teeth showed a hideous red. "I don't think
so, Doc," he said, coughing up blood matching the rest pooling under
him.

"Don't talk." One of the shots had hit him right in the chest, and it
was bad. Unless the ambulance got here quickly, he was going to die. He
was probably going to die anyway.

"Keep your head down, Doc, and don't talk to strangers," he said almost
too quietly for me to hear. "Watch out for that bastard." As if
satisfied that he had given me the wisdom of the earth, he gave me one
more smile and closed his eyes.

By the time the paramedics arrived, despite everything I could do, he
was dead.


The next little while was a three-ring circus. Cops swarmed the scene,
and I found myself sitting in the back of a police car with a blanket
around my shoulders, a cup of really bad coffee in my hands. A
plainclothes detective stood beside the car asking me for every detail
I could remember, starting with the moment the dead guy showed up in my
car. I wiped my bloody hands with a handiwipe, futilely trying to
remove the blood. Gloves made this type of thing so much less messy.

My voice sounded mechanical to my ears, almost monotone, as I answered
the officer. I drank the coffee and tried to feel something, but all
the emotion seemed to have bled out of me like the blood-soaked,
sheet-draped body lying beside my car. With minimal curiosity, I
watched a uniformed cop give the passenger seat a cursory look before
moving my car out of the road.

"Don't you need to tow my car to search for evidence?" I asked the
detective.

He shook his head. "If the officer had seen anything he'd have bagged
it. The only other reason we'd need evidence now is to find the guy
that took you hostage and charge him." With a brief glance at the
body, he shrugged. "I don't think that'll be necessary now."

That made more sense than I expected, despite the many episodes of CSI
I'd watched, and I drank more coffee while the detective ran me
through the events again. I wondered how much longer it would take till
Danny arrived. I'd called him to come get me as soon as I'd been
allowed to. I knew I wasn't going to feel safe driving my car. I
briefly wondered if I ever would again. For now, I'd simply get it
towed home. I'd think about what to do later.

I didn't have to wonder long, because just then Danny stepped up to the
car and pulled me out, crushing me with a bear hug. I felt his love and
concern for me in that hug, and I tried to say something, but I
suddenly couldn't speak as the dam of emotion tore loose, and it was
all I could do to hold him and cry. He brushed his hand through my hair
as I wept, telling me everything was okay. I remember saying "Thank
you" to him and telling him "I'm sorry" over and over, although I
wasn't sure what I was supposed to be sorry about.

When I finally ran down, I felt like a wrung-out dishrag. At a nod from
the police detective, Danny led me over to where the police had moved
my car. Parked next to it was the biggest Harley Davidson motorcycle
I'd ever seen. It was nothing but black and chrome, and sitting on it
was Keven Braddock.

When he saw us approaching, he stood up abruptly and walked to meet us.
Stopping in front of us, he reached out, cupped my chin in his hand and
looked into my eyes, reading my soul. Unlike Snake Eyes, his gaze
didn't frighten me. I saw the worry and fear buried inside him, hidden
from those around him that couldn't peer into him the way I could. In
an instant, I felt a bond form between us that strummed like a plucked
harp string. Then he pulled me from Danny's grasp and held me.

This morning, I would've been afraid to be in his arms, but now I
somehow felt I was where I belonged, and I was only grateful. His beard
rubbed against my cheek as he held me and he whispered in my ear,
"You're safe now. It's over." He sounded so confident, so certain, that
I believed him deep inside and sagged with relief. The scent of him
comforted me in a way that I could never have described. He was manly -
strong and protective all at once. The part of me that normally
objected to being protected, or even feeling the need for protection,
was pretty weak after the day's events, so I just luxuriated in the
warmth and courage Keven provided.

He finally let me go enough to clap Danny on the shoulder. "Why don't
you take Sandy's car home with you? I'll get her home and settled
in."

Danny's eyes silently questioned me and I just nodded. I didn't have
the strength to consider alternatives or to resist. "Okay, I'll do
that, then," he agreed. "Holly and I will bring the car over
tomorrow. Sandy, just stay home for now. We'll cover everything at work
for a few days."

The flame-thrower inside me wanted to object, to tell Danny that wasn't
necessary, but she couldn't get the energy to actually speak. I must
really be wiped out I thought to myself. Nodding again, I let Keven
lead me to his motorcycle.

As Keven put a helmet on me, I marveled at the relative lack of fear I
had about riding the big bike. He put on his own helmet and climbed
aboard. "Sit behind me and hold on around my waist," he instructed
me. "Hold onto me as tight as you like. When I turn a corner, lean
into the turn a little."

I climbed on behind him and found the places to put my feet. Then, with
a shiver, I slid my arms around his waist and pulled myself against
him. The heat of this morning was dampened but not gone completely. His
stomach was a hot slab of muscle under my hands. I closed my eyes and
rested my chin on his shoulder as he started the bike.


The trip to my house was a blur. Although I pointed out turns as we
came up on them, I felt as if I was in a trance. I was startled when
the bike cruised into my driveway where I normally parked my Porsche.
With unsteady legs, I climbed off and tried to figure out the helmet
strap until he gently moved my hands and loosened it himself.

After Keven set the helmets on the seat of the bike, I started toward
the front door. It seemed like it was a hundred miles away, and I was
so tired that I stumbled over my own feet. I squealed like a child when
he effortlessly picked me up in his arms and strode to the front door.

"You don't...' I started.

"Shhh. You've had a rough day, so let me take care of you," he said in
a voice more gentle than I'd expected.

With hardly a dip, he pulled my house key out of his pocket. I hadn't
even thought about that when we started to my house. I was glad he'd
gotten it somehow because I was really a wreck. He opened the door and
held me so I could turn off the alarm. He closed the door and then took
me right into the living room to set me on my feet.

"Can you make it to the bathroom on your own?" he asked in a concerned
tone. "A hot shower would probably do you some good. Come back down
when you're clean."

"Yes," I grouched, "I can take a shower by myself."

Keven quirked an eyebrow and smiled. "I asked if you could make it
there, not if you needed someone to scrub your back. That would be
getting a little ahead of ourselves, don't you think?"

I rolled my eyes and went up the stairs. I made it all the way up
without falling back down the stairs, thank God. That would have been
embarrassing. Stripping off the bloody clothes in the bathroom, I
dumped them in a corner. I'd put them in the washer to soak and give
them to Danny to take back to the office tomorrow. The cleaners we had
were good at getting blood out.

The room quickly filled with steam as I let the hot water run all over
my tired body. Keven had only been joking, but a part of me thought it
would be nice to have him behind me, scrubbing my back. I'd lost
patients before, back when I'd been a resident in the emergency room,
so I knew the feelings. It was part of the human condition to want to
reaffirm life after death, but instinctively I knew that was the wrong
thing to do now. It might make things... Hell, I didn't know what it
might make things.

I found myself shaking and my knees buckle as the weight of the whole
ordeal began to overtake me. I was very glad my shower had a built-in
seat or I would've ended up on the floor. Suddenly, I was a jumble of
nerves and emotions. Even though I had seen my share of death and
dying, I had never really had my own mortality shoved so clearly into
my face like this, and it frightened me deeply.

Sitting on the seat, I held my knees and sobbed softly. Part of me, the
doctor, knew these moments were normal reactions to trauma and would
come and go, but it was more intense than I'd expected. I knew that I
would be a better doctor when I saw it in patients I would have in the
future. Danny contracted with a counselor, a psychiatrist, and I could
already see a coming confrontation about me going to see her. Danny and
Holly insisting and me resisting. Three guesses how that would come
out. That brought the first real smile to my face that night, knowing I
had their love and friendship to support me. I could still feel
Danny's hug from earlier. Then there was Keven... Ohmigod, Keven...
He was still downstairs!

I turned off the water and dried off with one of my big, fluffy towels,
then went into my bedroom. Panties, shorts and an oversized tee shirt
made me as presentable as I felt like being. Now, I needed to go
downstairs and see what he had been doing in my absence. It had been
years since I'd had a man wandering around my house, and I felt the
burning desire to see what he was up to.

Padding quietly down the stairs, I let my senses stretch out, searching
for him. The scent of something cooking led me into the kitchen and I
stopped in the doorway, slack-jawed. His back to me, Keven was flipping
what looked like shrimp in a sizzling skillet, just like you see on the
cooking shows. He could paint and cook?

I must have made some kind of noise, because he half-turned and smiled
at me. Not the hot smiles that made my insides melt, but just a
friendly smile. "I decided that you didn't need to go out, and you
certainly didn't need to cook, so I'm taking a hand and making us
dinner. I hope you don't mind."

"Knock yourself out," I said, sitting at the table. "You'll probably do
a better job with the shrimp than I would have. I'm a mediocre cook, at
best."

He set the skillet down and poured me a glass of wine from the open
bottle on the counter. I took it from him gratefully and watched him
closely as he went back to cooking. I'd never really known any man to
be naturally domestic before, and it was interesting to watch him in
the kitchen.

"This should be ready in just a minute," he said, wiping his hands on a
towel and sipping his own glass of wine. "You have good taste in wine,
by the way. Stansbury Vineyards makes some stellar vintages."

"If you say so," I shrugged. "It was on the front row at eye level, so
I bought it. I keep buying it now because it tastes good. I don't
really have a taste for fine wines."

"If you like this you do," he insisted, sipping his and setting it down
to tend to the food.

While he prepared the plates, putting the shrimp on a bed of noodles
and covering the whole in a creamy Alfredo sauce, I tried to figure out
how to broach the situation. I wanted him here, but I didn't want him
in my bed tonight. Okay, I did want him in it, in me, but it wasn't
going to happen. Not until I knew it was right. I refused to sleep with
someone because I was weak. I hoped.

The first bite confirmed that he was a much better cook than I would
ever be. It was delicious. "This is good! I mean really good!"

Keven bowed his head marginally in acknowledgment. "It comes from years
living as a starving artist. If I wanted to eat anything other than
frozen dinners I had to learn to cook for myself. In a surprisingly
short time, you learn to cook all kinds of things that way. Living
single, I'm sure you cook better than you let on."

I smiled and shook my head. "No, I'm afraid simple dishes are my limit.
Those shrimp were going to be steamed because I could never fry them up
like you just did. Cooking is one of my failures as a woman."

His eyes gleamed at me. "I'm sure, with proper coaching, you could pick
up the finer points very quickly."

"Uh huh." I lowered my eyes and took a bite of the scrumptious shrimp
and chewed it thoughtfully before raising my eyes back to his. "Look, I
appreciate you coming over but we need to discuss some ground rules."

The chair he was in creaked a bit as he leaned back and nodded. "It's
your house so we go by your rules. I'm here because you've had a
terrible experience, and I refuse to see you left alone when I can be
here for support."

"Why," I demanded. "You met me less than a day ago. Danny and Holly,
sure, I can see them coming and being here with me, but you don't know
me at all."

"But I do know Doctor H. Even if we've not seen each other often over
the last few years, he and Holly are dear friends of mine, and Danny's
told me how much you mean to them. That, in and of itself, is reason
enough; but, I feel the need to protect you, too, even if I don't know
every last little detail about you."

I wanted to more closely examine his idea that I was something more to
Danny and Holly than just a talented partner, but Keven's first words
distracted me. I stared at him. "You know Danny?" At his nod, I took a
deep breath. "Then why did he send me to meet you at the gallery last
night in his place? He must have already known you and your work would
be..."

Keven sat calmly, without saying anything, and watched the blood start
to redden my face.

I really was an idiot. Danny hadn't set me up today, he'd set me up
last night. And Keven was in on it. I ground my teeth together and
glared at him. "You knew all about this, didn't you? The two of you
cooked this up so I'd come meet you?"

Unperturbed, he shook his head. "No, Sandy. All I knew last night was
that he called and canceled. I didn't even know they had a partner, and
I didn't know he was sending you. Besides, this sounds more like
Holly."

Yes, that sounded reasonable, but, "If Holly wanted to set me up like
that, why didn't she ask me to go before the emergency?" The moment I
asked the question I knew the answer: it hadn't occurred to her
before, but when the situation presented itself, Holly had realized she
could use the emergency to set me up. She'd certainly tried it before,
dragging me along to places where eligible men were to be found. Thank
God she wasn't like some people you read about, always trying to marry
off their friends, but still.

"Perhaps it was a spur-of-the-moment decision," Keven echoed my
thoughts with a shrug. "You'll have to ask them. All I'm saying is that
until I met you at the clinic, I had no idea you were associated with
them in any way. Now, you can choose to believe that or not." His eyes
flashed a bit at that, showing me that he had a bit of temper himself.
What I didn't see in his eyes, though, was deceit.

Slowly, I deflated, forcing my anger out of me like sweat from my
pores. Grudgingly, I nodded. "Okay. So we're both innocent, and we were
both set up. What does that mean?"

Keven chuckled. "Do you think it matters so far as we're concerned? I
don't. The spark isn't there because of what Holly and Danny did or
didn't do. It's there because of who we are. This isn't about them,
unless we make it about them." He raised his glass in a salute to the
wall. "Not that I'm not grateful to them, though."

I considered if I should join him in the toast and decided I'd rather
be pissy. I dug into the food. "That brings us back to us," I finally
said.

"The fact there is an 'us' in your mind is a good sign," he said
roguishly.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny," I said, not laughing. "I mean the rules of
engagement." I forestalled the obvious smart comment with a raised
fork. "And, no, I don't mean we're getting engaged. I mean I intend to
go to bed alone tonight."

He kept that grin of his in place and nodded. "Of course. I would never
take advantage of a lady, and most especially not right after what
you've been through today. Your virtue is safe with me, until and
unless you surrender it of your own free will, and only when you want
it, not just because you feel the need re-affirm your live. I won't
make you regret it."

Part of me started thinking about just that, wondering how it would
feel when I did surrender. I flushed when I realized I hadn't been
thinking in terms of "if", but in terms of "when".
Unconsciously, I'd already made up my mind that I did want to
surrender, that I was going to let Keven both into my life and into my
bed. I'd be damned, though, if it would be tonight.

I watched him while we ate in silence, looking for any sign that he
knew what I'd decided or for any hint of smugness. I saw none, though
his dark eyes smoked at me even while he devoured his food. A part of
me appreciated the feeling of being desired, just I appreciated the
fact that he could do it without filling the comfortable silence with
needless words.

When we finished eating, Keven took the plates to the sink and started
them soaking. I felt the urge to go do the dishes, but a look from him
made me re-evaluate. He was laying claim to the kitchen, and his eyes
dared me to challenge him on it. Not that I didn't like a good
challenge, but I felt like I'd had enough for one day, and I simply
didn't feel like fighting tonight.

Retreating to the living room, I put some soft jazz on the radio and
sat down with my wine, waiting. Keven joined me a minute later,
bringing the bottle and his glass. I raised an eyebrow as he topped me
off. "Planning on getting me drunk and having your way with me?"

Setting the bottle down, he smiled assuredly at me. "Not at the same
time. Tonight I plan on getting you drunk. Having my way with you will
have to wait for some other night. I gave you my word and, even if I
hadn't, I wouldn't use your vulnerability against you. When we make
love it will be with your whole-hearted approval."

So, he was sure we would do it, too. I should've felt offended that he
was so certain, but that would be kind of hypocritical. "So, if I set
this glass down and asked you to make love to me right here, right now,
you'd say 'no'?"

"That's exactly what I would say. I'm not saying I wouldn't want to, or
that I wouldn't regret that decision for the rest of the night,
though." His eyes caressed my body and I knew that he did want me.

"Then I won't tell you that," I said, taking a deep gulp of my wine.
"I'll just drink, talk, and see what happens."

The jazz slowly seeped into my flesh. The alcohol made everything a bit
blurred in a way that I welcomed. Despite saying I was going to talk, I
was silent and he drank with me quietly, filling my glass whenever it
seemed light.

Things were going so well. At least they were until I started crying,
the tears coming from nowhere, making the room even more blurry. I
commanded them back and was just as successful as if I'd ordered the
sea to retreat. I covered my face and struggled for the composure that
eluded me.

I never knew he was beside me until the glass was taken from my hand,
and he pulled me gently into his embrace, holding me against him,
shielding me from the world. His hand caressed my head and he whispered
meaningless things in my ear.

Surrendering control, I rested my face against his chest and wept. The
emotions rose up and claimed me, reducing me to helplessness. I have no
idea how long I cried, my tears drenching his shirt. His arms around me
first felt comforting and then started to feel erotic, as the emotional
turmoil and pain gave way to a fragile peace, and the heat of him, and
his scent, seeped into me. Even drunk, I was sure that the wine had
something to do with it, as well.

Wiping the tears from my face, I looked up into his eyes and felt his
conflicting emotions. Anger, though not directed at me; concern about
me and how the day's events would affect me; and lust for me all warred
inside him. On top of all of that, though, was control. Discipline.

"What if I ask you to take me to bed right now?" I whispered to him.
"What if I beg you to make love to me? Would you deny me?"

Keven kissed my forehead softly. "As much as I want to make love to
you, as much as I hurt saying 'no', I can't."

"That's not fair," I said grumpily. "I haven't wanted sex for years and
the first time I do, I get a man with honor and scruples, and I get
told 'no.' I take it all back."

I could feel the chuckle deep in his chest. "No, and I think you've had
enough to drink, too. I'm going to help you to bed, and then I'm going
to retire to the sofa."

When he helped me up, the world moved in ways I wasn't used to seeing
it move. I held onto him tightly, to avoid falling over, which just
made me fall over the other way.

Laughing, he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder in a
fireman's carry. I shrieked and started laughing, too. Just like the
crying, peals of humor flowed out of me. That was followed by a flash
of lust as I felt his hand on my ass. Not on my legs, but on my ass.

"I thought you were keeping your hands to yourself," I said accusingly.


"It's all purely platonic," he assured me. Yeah, right.

He figured out where my bedroom was without my input and took me into
my bathroom and stood me on my unsteady feet. "Let's take care of your
teeth and then put you to bed."

I brushed my teeth while he held me up, almost making it a game to see
if I could lean over far enough to make him grope me. No such luck.

When he started to take me back out to the bed, I held up a hand. "I
need to go potty," I slurred. "Either help or turn around."

Keven laughed and turned around.

"Spoilsport," I muttered, pulling down my shorts and panties before
sitting down mostly on the toilet. As I relieved myself, I watched his
back. This was the closest I'd been to a man for so long without
clothes on. Well, I wasn't naked, but I was close. Then my devil
started talking to me again, whispering seductive things in my ear. I
cocked my other ear to listen for my angel, but I think the bitch had
passed out. Pussy.

What the hell. I peeled the tee shirt off my head and dropped it beside
me before kicking off my shorts and panties. Sitting behind him,
totally naked, I smiled at myself and my own audacity. It had to be the
wine, because a part of me knew this was insane.

When I'd dried myself, I took a breath for courage and tapped his leg.
"Okay, I need help standing up to wash my hands."

Keven turned around and stopped in shock, staring at me. The heat of
his gaze stoked the fire inside me and I felt my nipples stiffen in
almost painful arousal. The lust in his gaze was there for anyone to
see and in moments, I could see other, prominent evidence that I'd hit
a home run.

"That is so unfair," he said, a catch in his voice. "I thought it was
the guys that were supposed to keep trying to turn 'no' into 'yes'." I
could see his hands quiver a little as he took my hands and lifted me
to my feet.

Then, as we stood toe to toe, I pulled him to me and melted into his
arms, allowing my mouth to devour his. God, the man knew how to kiss!
In seconds, I was totally drenched. The feel of his arms around me,
pulling me into him, set me on fire. His erection rubbed against my
belly in a way that made me want to rip his clothes off him right now,
and my breasts were squashed flat against his chest.

For a moment, I thought he'd given in to me, but then he pushed me back
and held my shoulders in his hands. "Oh, no," he said huskily. "No
means no, Vixen. Let's wash your hands and get you to bed. Alone."

He turned me to the sink and slid his hands down my back to my hips,
steadying me.

"No," I almost wailed. "This so isn't fair! I want you! I need you!
Please!" Involuntarily, I rubbed my ass back against him.

"You're right about one thing," he said heavily. "It isn't fair, but
it's what's going to happen. Wash up."

Reluctantly, I washed and dried my hands. Then he helped me out to the
bedroom and turned down the sheet for me so I could slide in. I looked
at him, standing there full of desire and need, and knew that he was
right. This shouldn't happen tonight, Despite how much I longed for his
touch. That thought sent another jolt of electricity through me that
almost made me beg once more, but I managed to keep from losing my
dignity again.

"At least, if you're going to insist on being a gentleman, give me one
more kiss before you go downstairs," I said softly.

Wordlessly, he took my face in his hands and kissed me gently, almost
lovingly, before he let me go. "Goodnight, Sandy. If you need anything
at all, shout and I'll be right up."

At the door he paused for a moment and looked at my sheet-draped body
and then turned out the light and closed the door behind him.

Already, the arms of Morpheus were pulling me down, but I managed to
think for a moment how lucky I really was before sleep took me.

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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