Cold wet winter nights like this one were made for drinking.  Unfortunately, Terry Thorne was doing his in a crowd at an upscale bar in San Francisco that catered to the urbane professionals who filled this part of the city like so many ants.  This particular nightspot was the local watering hole preferred by the occupants of the building that also housed Thorne & O'Leary's corporate offices- hence his reluctant presence there tonight.  The rest of the offices in the building were mainly devoted to insurance companies, with the usual accompanying plethora of legal professionals and a small smattering of financiers from the private sector.  Hardly a shake-your-arse-to-a-good-Latin-beat sort of demographic.  Pity.   

Tossing back another drink, Terry looked over the room with a frown.  The patrons largely reminded him of seagulls; a cacophony of gray and brown clad individuals who'd cheerfully peck each other to death given the opportunity.  As he ordered another round, the deep gray of his Armani jacket caught his eye and his lips twitched at the irony of it all.  Despite the fact that he appeared just another gull in the flock, this wasn't his sort of place or his kind of people. 

Or maybe they were?  

Maybe the damn veil he lived behind had finally smothered him, leaving nothing but the perfect robotic man?  

It wasn't that he was melancholy or bitter so much as disturbed.  If a robot can be disturbed, that is.  Or maybe that was the problem?  He was.... restless.  Unsettled.  And that was one place Terry Thorne didn't often tread.  He'd made a career of keeping himself so busy he didn't have time to entertain such thoughts.  He worked.  Compulsively.  Obsessively.   He slept too little and shagged too much, but he rarely allowed himself to feel much of anything at all anymore.  They say some horses run better in a harness, but the traces were beginning to chafe and even the best trained animals needed to run free once in a blue moon, if only to keep from having their spirit broken.  And that last time he'd dared to run free he'd been neatly eviscerated, his heart and love tossed back at him like a worthless bit of rubbish.  Some flaming luck he had, hey?   

His mood grew blacker.  He had been silently brooding for weeks and that bloody book Ann had given him hadn't helped matters.  Nor had his performance tonight as the boy wonder of Risk Management., but it was important for their growing business that they milk the Tecala job for all it was worth.  Some years on, it was still the stuff of legends.  Dino had gotten that right at least, the crazy bugger.

Though he hadn't wanted to be there, Terry had become all but inured to these after-hours 'meetings' over the years.  The last thing he wanted to do tonight was sit around networking with the people from corporate, but it appeared a robot's work was never done.  So he'd smiled.  And he'd listened, nodding in all the right places and biting his tongue when what he really wanted to do was tell them all to piss off.  And, of course, he'd kept the rounds coming.  And coming.  And coming... 

And after he'd drunk them under the table and poured them into a cab, he'd stayed behind.  It had been a long time since he'd indulged himself, and it seemed illogical to turn back now when the summit was but a few drinks away.  The clientele might be a bit stiff for his tastes but the bourbon was excellent, and frankly, he couldn't be bothered to slog through the cold winter night in search of a more amenable place to contemplate the bottom of a tumbler.  Though his outward appearance gave away little, internally he was aware he was fast approaching critical mass... and for once, he just didn't care.

 

 

Across the room, a svelte brunette in an austere Dior suit was losing an internal argument.  Karina had specifically turned down her girlfriends' invitation to cruise the working class bars tonight - precisely because it had been too long since she'd been to bed with a real man.  A thick, meaty man with calluses on his hands, who could go like a freight train and pound her into the mattress as if she were a rag doll; someone whose natural machismo made her feel feminine by comparison.  She knew from experience there was little chance of finding such a man in this chi-chi place, hence her presence there tonight.  The men here were largely of the intellectual metrosexual variety.  Sort of Niles Crane-meets-Bear Grylls, provided the only outdoor excursions 'Bear' made were through the back nine from the comfort of a luxury golf cart.

Unfortunately, the man occupying the corner barstool was exactly the sort she'd hoped to avoid tonight.  He was no limp-wristed pencil pusher with a fake tan and a 'Body by Bally's'.  He was the real McCoy, a rare fillet mignon in a sea of tofu burgers.  His broad shoulders filled his immaculate suit and despite his well groomed appearance, there was an unmistakable air of something wild and rugged about him.  He even had a scar over his eyebrow.  In short, he was a wet dream come true.  If that man ever rode a desk she'd eat her vintage Hermes bag. 

Karina was aware she wasn't the only one looking.  He was no doubt responsible for the epidemic of wet knickers in the house tonight.  He was magnetic, and appeared all the more attractive because he seemed completely oblivious to the effect he was having on the female populous.  Scratch that.  A good portion of the men were eying him up as well, but so far none had dared approach him.

At least, he appeared oblivious until their eyes chanced to meet in the Tiffany mirror behind the bar.  In an instant, his lazy bored look was replaced with a touch of pleasant surprise.  A fiery heat chased away the lingering chill of the night from her body and left her tingling and shifting against the rising tide of internal flutters.  She actually felt her vagina quiver in response to nothing but the power of his gaze.  It was more than just the possibility of the blatant invitation in his eyes.  He was dangerous.  A man like him.... he would have an interesting story, a history she couldn't ignore, some way of breaching her carefully constructed defenses... and that simply wouldn't do.  Her heart wasn't open.  Not anymore. 

That's why the run-of-the-mill Neanderthals were safe.  A night or two of mutual fun and it was over.  The man at the bar was infinitely more lethal because it was clear that behind that enigmatic green gaze was a brain that even more dangerous than his powerful body. 

And still, knowing the risks, she couldn't look away....

 

 

Terry was unprepared and a bit surprised by the instant blast of heat searing his brain and body.  The woman whose eye he'd caught certainly wasn't shy.  Slightly hesitant perhaps, but there was no mistaking her interest.  Or her response.  And he wasn't ashamed to admit that it felt damned good.  What was mildly disconcerting was the ferocity of his own response to her.  She wasn't a damsel in distress or the sort of unusual eclectic spitfire that was apt to catch and hold his attention.  She wasn't petite or blonde or fragile or quirky or any of the other things that usually made him look twice, and yet the chemistry between them was absolutely undeniable. 

It certainly wasn't love at first sight.  It wasn't even lust.  It was something deeper.  Some primal attraction, like a primitive switch flipped in his mind.  In that instant, he wanted nothing more than to feel her under him.  Well... that was putting too nice a face on it, really.  What he wanted most of all was to shove himself deep inside her and keep her filled with sperm until— 

He shook that thought away, blaming the considerable quantity of drink he'd had tonight for the vehemence of his reaction to her.  Surely it was nothing more than that?  A passing fancy fueled by drink and enhanced by the rolling turmoil of his emotional landscape.  Nothing a night or two of passion wouldn't resolve.  And lucky for him she seemed amenable to the idea if the look in her eyes was any indication.  Suddenly the night wasn't looking like a total write-off after all. 

 

 

Karina was the first to look away... but it wasn't long before they were back to devouring each other with their eyes.  So much so that he was glad he was alone.  She was seated with a few women, colleagues presumably, and her sudden inattention was obvious - even more so as she made no effort to suppress it in any way.  That boded well for him, but one by one they turned to look in his direction, uncomfortable and embarrassed by their companion's total disregard for social convention.  He liked her already.

He liked her even more when she got up and left them without so much as a single word.  She was taller than he'd expected.  Not quite as tall as he was, but with stilettos like that, she would nearly look him in the eye.  A challenge.  He liked that.  She stopped in front of him, a charming mix of confidence and breathlessness.  He eyes were a deep, rich brown and her skin was dusky and exotic.  Both of which complimented her glossy dark hair.  It was impossible to work out her ethnicity.  Italian?  Spanish?  Black Dutch?  Hindi?  A blend of something even more intriguing?

He put his hand on her without even thinking, squeezing her slender waist in his thick fingers before they came to rest familiarly on the curve of her hip.  A claim?  Maybe.  But the alcohol he'd consumed was certainly in the mix somewhere.  He had the urge to lick her neck and barely restrained himself, settling instead for pulling her into the charged space between his spread knees.  She smelled divine, like Shalimar and warm aroused woman. 

Karina shivered at the strength inherent in his simple touch and at the nearness of his big imposing body.  His eyes were startlingly green and she could smell the faint scent of bourbon as he breathed slowly in and out while he watched her watch him.  His mouth was far too feminine for his rugged face, but it gave him a boyish charm that seemed incongruous with the danger bleeding from him.  His ruddy skin was flushed slightly, a sign he'd had more to drink than she previously realised and it suddenly excited her.  What would such a man be like without inhibitions?  It was a heady thought. 

Rubbing a lock of her long shiny hair between his rough fingers, he waited for her to say something.  He couldn't seem to keep his hands off of her.  Maybe she'd slap him for being so forward.  It wouldn't be the first time... but if you risked nothing, you gained nothing.  He took a chance and rubbed her hair over his lips. 

When she spoke, her voice was cultured and soft with a faint European accent he couldn't place.  "Shall we just go now?"  

It wasn't so much a question as it was an affirmation she had correctly read his intent, and he hers.  The finger she sensuously trailed down his forearm dispelled any lingering doubt he might have had about exactly where she wanted him to take her.  And still, some small part of him was mildly annoyed that she hadn't let this play out in the typical fashion; the usual small talk over drinks and then a subtle hint from him about a nightcap back at his hotel after a dance or two somewhere suitable.  The larger part of him, however, was more than willing to accept her forwardness, even embrace it.  His manhood was secure without having to play the part of the knuckle dragging Neanderthal.  It was the new millennia, after all.  And at the moment he could think of a dozen other things he'd rather do with his knuckles....

"I have a car waiting," he said, without hesitation.  

He followed her out with a hand on her back.  Karina was glad for his solid presence behind her.  While certainly not a prude by any means, she was also not the sort to fall into bed with just anyone and her response to him frightened her and thrilled her at the same time.  She could feel the electricity in his touch, and for once the proprietary gesture didn't rub her the wrong way.  In fact, if anything, he was rubbing her in exactly the right way.  By the time they reached his hired car, her knees were weak and his hand was all but shaking as he casually, and with great satisfaction, relinquished the last of his frayed restraint.

 

 

The short ride back to the hotel was a blur.  The interior of the sedan was dark and womblike, almost oppressive.  They were very aware of each other in the close confines of such a tightly enclosed space.  It smelled of leather, of the fresh wet night clinging to their clothes and of the heady promise of sex.  Aside from his brusque directions to the driver, neither of them spoke and they didn't touch.  It was probably for the best.  Once he got started, he didn't intend to stop and he preferred not to be arrested for indecent exposure, however tempted he was by the idea of her straddling him on the back seat.  His lips twitched.  Maybe once he'd burned away some of the crazy fire from his blood, they would have a proper conversation.  He wanted to know more about the mystery woman at his side.

As he helped her from the car, she pressed something silky into his hand, her face carefully blank as she swept into the hotel with the regal grace befitting a queen.

"Bloody hell," he muttered to himself, covertly tucking the scrap of lace into the deep pocket of his coat as he followed her inside and led her to the elevators.  He'd never even seen her slip them off.  The tiny bit of lingerie was still warm and slightly damp.  He swallowed a groan, fingering the fine material with one hand while depressing the call button with the other.  As the doors swept closed behind him, the look she gave him could have blistered glass.

Terry jiggled about.  Would the bloody lift never get to the proper floor?  "They're still warm," he said by way of conversation, wondering what she'd make of that. 

"Good." He watched her eyes flick to the little lighted numbers as they climbed higher.  He took advantage of her inattention to appraise her backside in the fine cut of her knee-length skirt and the way her indecently enticing shoes accentuated the graceful arch of her foot.  Christ, she had a gorgeous pair of long shapely legs.  And damned fine taste in shoes.   

But she wasn't the only one who could play the provocative.  Tonight he wasn't dancing to any tune but his own.  Her gaze shifted back to him and he let her see him looking.  And wanting.  Waiting until their eyes met again, he deliberately pulled the scrap of pale pink silk out of his pocket, fingering them lightly.  He enjoyed watching her eyes flare with surprise.

Her mind whirled.  Surely he wasn't crass enough to...

But he did, crudely holding the exquisite fabric to his nose and inhaling her subtle fragrance with a devilish grin.

Karina's face flamed.  They were still in public!  Did he not know the rules of such a liaison or did he simply not care?  What a thrilling prospect!  

The warm musky scent of her was driving him mad.  He moved faster than she could have imagined, pinning her there against the cold unyielding wall of the lift, but instead of kissing her as she expected, he touched the silk to the inside of her wrist and then to the soft vulnerable hollow of her throat.  His nose followed and then his tongue.  It was wet and strong.  Her insides turned to jelly.  Karina shuddered and he backed off with a wry smile, tucking the lacy scrap back into his pocket as the elevator doors slid open with a soft whoosh.

"You taste even better than you smell," he whispered into her hair before leading her out into the softly lit hallway.  The alcohol made him feel both pleasantly loose and less deft than usual as he fumbled momentarily with the keycard.  A dark primal hunger was rising in him and his sex soaked brain made him feel as if he was walking through thick honey.  She was intoxicating and he couldn't think beyond anything but shoving himself inside of her the moment the door closed behind them.

 

 

They fell on each other with feral intensity an instant after the tumblers tripped into place with a soft click.  In moments his zipper was down and her skirt was up.  Her pouty mouth rounded into a soft 'O' of appreciative surprise as his thick cock jutted up between them.  He was big.  And very, very pretty.  Uncut and throbbing, it was a showy testament to his unmistakable virility.  She watched a drop of fluid form at the tip and begin to slide down... 

"Oh my," she breathed, the sound falling away on a hum of pleasure as he fit the wide head between her slick pouty labia and rubbed back and forth, crudely stimulating them both.

Catching her behind the knee and wrapping her leg around him, he bent his own knees and thrust upwards, pushing into her liquid glossy heat.  "Oh my," he groaned back.  It may well have been the understatement of the century.

Karina saw stars.  White lights were dancing in Terry's head.  They both swayed.  And he wasn't even all the way in yet.

He put his mouth to her ear.  "Can you take a little more?"  There was actually a lot more, but he wasn't about to quibble over details at this late date.

Her delicate skin was already stretched taut around him, but she wanted more of that sinfully extravagant pleasure.  "More..."  Her fingers clutched at his lapel before twining round his neck.

He didn't give her any time to prepare.  Fitting both large hands under her shapely bottom, he lifted her into him and let gravity do the rest.  A mutual groan of pleasure echoed loudly in the small foyer as she was deeply pierced on the most intimate thorn of all.  He waited until she had slipped all the way down his cock before shoving in that final measure.  That time she screamed.  And then he did it again, just to hear that gratifying sound one more time.

Karina had never been so filled.  The sensation was painfully exquisite; pleasure and ecstasy and a deep burning stretch that filled a hidden need in some dark primitive place in her mind. 

Terry felt invincible, poised on the edge of erotic violence.  His mind might be slow but his heart was racing.  Adrenaline-fueled arousal gave his considerable strength an almost brutal edge as he rocked her over him while continuing to thrust from beneath.  He moved her easily, as if she weighed nothing.  She felt feather-light in his arms, like dancing with a wisp of fog whilst the most incredibly amazing cunt he'd ever had the good luck to stretch squeezed his cock with strong arrhythmic contractions.

It was shockingly good.  And far too brief.  She moaned into his mouth.  He bit her lip.  Her passionate cries and his deep grunts rose in a crescendo along with the crude wet slapping sounds as they spent themselves in a violent tempest against each other with a gush of fluid and a litany of shuddering sighs. 

Still almost fully dressed, they stood there not two steps from the door catching their breath, she pierced deep on his body and he sweating and trembling from his exertions.  It was startlingly intimate, perhaps the most vulnerable moment they'd yet shared.  His big hand was rubbing the small of her back softly.  She could feel him still twitching inside her and every so often, a deep shuddering aftershock would ripple through her, making his breath hitch as she compressed his over-stimulated flesh. 

Impossibly, he seemed to be growing harder inside her instead of slipping out on the remains of their spent passion.  She rubbed against him gently, rocking her sensitive clitoris against the wiry curls at his base.  Her body ached, but the tide of pleasure was already beginning to rise once again.  A languid smile touched her full lips.          

"For a man who doesn't talk much, you certainly know how to break the ice."  Above her flushed cheeks, her eyes danced merrily and they enjoyed a soft chuckle together while her delicate fingers tenderly smoothed back his damp hair. 

"Sweetheart, I'm just getting started."  He was going to fuck her until he couldn't bloody move.

What followed were several hours of some of the most uninhibited sex he'd had in quite some time.  It had been raw and dirty and crude and... fun.  And had he mentioned dirty?  A veritable cornucopia of taboo carnal delights.  There was just something about sex with a stranger that made it so easy to let go, to just be the sexual creature one tends to hide from a proper lover for fear of rejection or offending them with a kinky suggestion or dirty talk. 

She was an engaging companion, sharp and witty and so comfortable with her body.  It was clear she liked sex and was blessedly free of hang-ups, almost frighteningly so.  He had never met anyone so at ease with sex, sexuality and all of the wickedly delicious things two people with open minds could think up to do to each other.

 

 

A long while later when indeed he could not move, just as he'd promised himself earlier, he was lying on his back smoking with his arm flung above his head while he contemplated the woman beside him. 

She was smiling at him.  "That was incredible.....er...." It was at that moment that she realized she still didn't know his name.

"Lucky," he supplied helpfully, giggling at his own foolish wit.

Her smile widened as she stuck out her hand in greeting.  "Well then, 'Lucky', I suppose that would make me 'Felicity'."  Felicity, the state of being joyously happy.  A high degree of joyful bliss.  Well, that was certainly fitting.  And also a bit disconcerting.  She had already let him in far too deep and with the return of clarity, she was feeling the urge to bolt before she did something stupid.  Like fall for him.

"Very clever."  He kissed her fingers softly.  They smelled of sex and he smiled.  "How can you even think after a session like that?  I am completely shagged out."  In every sense of the word.

"Easy."  She extracted her hand.  "I'm a woman."

He groaned playfully and fell back against the pillows, thinking about a cozy nap and room service and perhaps a mutual shower before breakfast and hopefully round two, when she slipped out of bed and began gathering her clothes, unconcerned with her nudity as she stooped and bent, plucking articles of her clothing from the odd places they'd landed in his haste to strip them off her. 

And just that quickly, everything suddenly came to a screeching halt.

"You off, already?"  He didn't like that one little bit.

Worse, she stopped mid-gather when the annoying chirp of a cell phone broke the strained silence.  She paused to look at the display of a slick little phone he hadn't even realized she'd been carrying when they fell in the door.

"Leave the money on the nightstand when you go then, why don't you." He muttered sourly, suddenly feeling used.  It was a first for him, at least in this context.   

She shrugged apologetically, clutching the phone like a lifeline, grateful for the excuse to make her escape.  "I have to take this... It's work."  Ignoring his indelicate snort of disapproval, she answered it directly.

It didn't stop him.  "It's two A.M. in the fucking morning!  What kind of bloody work do you do?"

Karina was distracted.  A manic new client with a heavy brogue was shouting gibberish in one ear while a pissy Australian was griping in the other.  "Lawyer," she finally managed by covering the receiver while simultaneously hopping about trying to put on her shoes.

That knocked him back so hard it was impossible to enjoy the view as she bent to retrieve something lacy from under the table.  "International law?" he inquired hopefully.

She shook her head while fastening her bra.  

"Corporate law?"  Less hopeful this time.  And he was annoyed enough that it didn't even matter to him that he might be interrupting a sensitive conversation.  Who took fucking calls in the middle of the night?  Besides men like him, of course....he thought ruefully.

She shook her head again, slipping her skirt up over her slender hips.

"Contract law?"  A heavy feeling was developing in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with the massive quantity of alcohol that he'd consumed earlier.

"Sort of..."  Karina paused, buttoning up her suit jacket before uncovering the receiver once more.  'Lucky' was starting to annoy her.  She was nodding along, making little sounds of affirmation as the caller continued to rattle on.

"Christ, just tell me!  It's too bloody late for twenty questions, love."  He rolled over with a huff yanking the covers up over his nakedness.  He was suddenly feeling vulnerable and he didn't much care for it.

She didn't need to tell him, though.  He already knew the answer.  There was only one reason she'd be so coy.  He'd bet every last dime that she was a divorce lawyer.  He shuddered, remembering the barracuda his ex-wife had hired for their divorce.  Now there was a bitch of the first water.  No wonder the woman in his bed tonight had been so uninhibited.  She probably didn't have a conscience or a soul at all, he thought uncharitably.  He could just imagine her sitting there cold and calculating, using that sharp mind of her to tear some poor bloke to shreds for daring to love the wrong woman.  That thought suddenly hit a little too close to home.

Covering the phone one last time she slipped in "Divorce Law," while the potential client on the line took a much needed breath.

Terry was still pissed, but he couldn't help but be impressed at how quickly and how artfully 'Felicity' had managed to restore her appearance.  She was hardly as fresh as when they fell in the door, but she no longer had that 'I've-just-been-fucked-within-an-inch-of-my-life' look that he had been admiring earlier.

Her cheeks were flushed and her skirt was a bit worse for the wear, but she somehow managed to twist the tumbled mass of curls back up on her head in a smooth artful sweep and secured it with a few clips from her handbag.  When she slipped into her stylish knee-length winter coat and refastened the earring he'd bitten off earlier, you'd never know what she'd just been about.

Except for the touch of beard burn on her throat.  Well, that and the fact that she reeked of him, a primal thought that couldn't help but make him smile despite his annoyance at his present circumstances.

He watched with interest as she scrawled something on a piece of hotel stationary.  A note with her card tucked inside?  Maybe things weren't as dire as he'd imagined, though he doubted it.  And then she piqued his curiosity yet again as she tucked the note into his hand and slipped out the door with her cell on her ear and an apologetic smile on her lips.

 

Karina made it to the lift before collapsing against the wall with a silent sigh.  It had taken real effort to leave a man like that behind.  Still, she couldn't quite congratulate herself while feeling that she'd somehow made a horrible mistake... but it was done.  Over.  She didn't know his name and she wasn't coming back.  Her heart was still safe behind the impenetrable wall she'd built around it; a thought that amused her considering he'd managed to penetrate her in practically every other way imaginable.  It seems she'd left just in the nick of time.  If there was ever a man made to ferret out the chinks in a woman's armor.... but then she'd always liked living on the edge.

Not that he'd seemed so interested after she'd told him what she did, however.  Men always got the wrong impression and she encouraged it.  In truth, now that she'd made a name for herself, she only took male clients.  She had her own reasons for that, but none she'd ever cared to share with anyone outside her immediate family. 

Stepping out into the foggy night, Karina slipped into a waiting cab with a small wince of pain as her overused muscles protested, but there was a smile on her lips.  Pressing a hand against her middle to quell the riotous feelings inside, she took a deep clarifying breath and tried to let the night pass into memory.  She had work to do.  The man on the line needed a lawyer badly.  And lucky for him, she was a damned good one.

 

Back upstairs, Terry's black mood had returned.  Were things so dire he couldn't even get a one night stand right anymore?  Of all people, he picks a bloody divorce lawyer?  He supposed he was lucky to have been left with his bollocks intact.  But despite it all, she had gotten under his skin, though he wasn't quite sure how or why.  Still, he couldn't bring himself to be truly furious.  At least not at her.  He had enjoyed himself and the sex had been fucking brilliant.  It was hard to decide if he was more upset at her or himself.  

For too long he hadn't given a damn, but recent events had conspired to wake him up-his newfound empathy for Uma, the book that had inspired his erotic dream and led him to realize that he was not an abusive man by nature but a gentle one, at least where women were concerned.... then there was his liaison with Sophie that while pleasurable was superficial for them both, and just tonight he had been treated by a woman like he'd been treating them, and he found he rather disliked it.  A lot. 

It was a different sort of anger smouldering in him now than there had been before.  He was aware of the change and though he knew the cause, he hadn't yet identified the effect or even what exactly had shifted.  He was dangerous now and his brief encounter with the mystery woman tonight had only raised the bar.  She'd presented a challenge - something he needed - even if he was unaware of it at the moment.  He hadn't quite yet put the pieces together, but he would in time.  His meticulous mind would turn it all over and over until the pieces fit, until he had the answer, a direction, a course of action... and maybe even a small sliver of peace.

But at the moment, he was stewing in his own juices.  He sat up and thumped the headboard, smoking ominously, her note crushed in his fist.  It wasn't her card or her number.  Smoothing out the rumpled paper, he read the note again, taking an aggressive drag off the cigarette as he did so.

 

 

Terry shook his head.  Evidence?  Bloody Lawyers!  

She could keep her advice, too.  He was definitely keeping the 'evidence'.  He hadn't had such tangible proof of his own life for far too long.  

 

 The song is: I Miss My Mind by TOFOG

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