Package, Sir
written by:
Inga

The Gift

Lindsay held the package carefully, shifting from one foot to the other while she waited for the elevator to reach the ninth floor. She could feel a couple stray strands of her cinnamon brown hair tickling her cheek and blew them off her face. A new muzak song came through the speakers and, being alone in the elevator, she indulged in grousing at it.

"Oh come on! Turning Metallica into elevator music?! That's criminal!''

Of course, she was trapped in this elevator for... ugh, four more floors, so she had to listen to whoever had done this version completely butcher the song. Thank God! Finally, the elevator reached nine and the doors whispered open, freeing her from the sadistic torture of the elevator music. Absently checking door numbers and names, she thought that had to be the worst part of her job as a package carrier. That was, aside from the uniforms. The world's ugliest kind of khaki, that always insisted on shrinking, despite being dry cleaned. She adjusted the dumb cap they made them all wear, and ignored the condescending stares of the executives who passed her in the hallway. This floor was shared by three different firms, and she was looking for..... aha! Here it was. She stopped at K. Richardson and Associates. Well it matched the name on her package. She pushed through the glass doors and headed for the receptionist's desk.

After speaking with the receptionist, she was told to sit 'there'. So she sat, 'there', in a very uncomfortable office chair, by a cluster of fake plants and a cheap coffee table with old magazines. She just took it in stride. Same as every other business office she'd been to. They all tried to be unique... exactly the same way. It was like they thought no one else would think to put magazines and fake plants in a waiting area. After about fifteen minutes (with Lindsay shifting in her seat, feeling very out of place in her khakis while surrounded by men and women in Gucci and Versace's best), she heard a man's voice and looked over. Then swallowed her tongue. Oh my god, he was gorgeous! She knew she was staring, and had a feeling her tongue was in her lap, but how often do you see a living god standing in front of you? Obscenely good looking, with a healthy tan (a real tan, one you could tell he didn't get from baking in a box at a salon), deep blue-gray eyes, an honest-to-god chiseled jaw that just begged to be kissed, lips that didn't beg, but demanded kisses as their due, and a body that could raise the temperature of a three day corpse.

Keith wondered if the woman was touched. Why was she just staring at him? So he repeated himself. "You were looking for me?" He said it a little slower, just in case. The woman was pretty, but even nuts could come in nice packaging.

Lindsay could feel her cheeks burning, and she quickly stood, trying to pretend she hadn't just made a fool of herself. Oh god, he was tall too. He had to be at least a good foot taller than her. Of course everyone seemed tall to her. She barely scraped five foot three barefoot. "I am if you're.. " she checked the package again. "K. Richardson. Package." Feeling even more like an idiot, she held the small box out to him. Obviously you're giving him a package stupid! You got the uniform, the clipboard, the box, you think he'd think you were here for a dance recital? God, where was a good Mack truck to knock you down when you needed one?

A little bewildered, he took the package from her. He wasn't expecting any.... his fingers brushed hers, and he thought absently how soft her skin was. He mentally shook himself and looked at the return address. Wyoming? What the...? He raised his eyes to hers again. Her very bright green... Get a grip, man! Clearing his throat, he asked, "Do you know who sent it?"

She thought absently that the carpet must be a thick pile, for her to feel a small electric shock when he touched her. Too bad they were on a tile floor. Okay, so she had no life. She needed a date. Who was she kidding? She needed a hell of a lot more than a date! She shook her head. "No. We don't track the packages, unless the sender insures or certifies it. This was shipped standard priority."

Interesting... Keith looked over the small box again, wondering what it could be. Then he heard the woman and looked up, seeing that she was holding her clipboard and a pen out to him. Oh. He took them with a sheepish grin, scribbling his name on the line at the bottom.

She felt better, not being the only one a little distracted, although she was sure his was caused by something completely different than hers. She took the board and pen back, scribbled her own name in the correct box (man, his handwriting was as bad as hers!), and tore off the pink copy, handing it to him. She gave him a pert smile, and got her ass out of there before she could embarrass herself again. "Alright, you're all set. Have a good day, Mr. Richardson."

He watched as the woman bounced out of the office, then looked down atthe slip in his hand. Wyoming?! Then he squinted, trying to read her scrawl. Jesus, it was as bad as his. He was able to make out that her initials were L.G., but other than that, nothing. Ignoring the receptionist, who it seemed made a daily effort to seduce him (he shuddered at the thought. The woman was almost fifty, and looked as though her ideal mate was a military jeep.) and made his way back into his private office. Sitting behind his desk, which was constantly cluttered with official nonsense that made up his consulting firm, he turned the box over in his hands. Well, no sense just sitting there holding it... He ripped the plain brown paper off of it and found a black box inside. When he opened the box, his jaw dropped, his eyes flying wide open. Inside was a... was a... holy shit! His eyes narrowed, and he wondered what sonofabitch had thought up this joke.

Inside the box was a miniature crystal dildo, an exact replica of a man's penis, about three inches long. Done in perfect scale, it seemed, but miniature. He saw an envelope underneath it, the square kind you usually get with greeting cards. He tweezed the crystal thing between his fingers to take it out, praying no one would pick this second to come in to talk to him, and set it down on a stack of papers. Then he pulled out the card, and realized what had happened. He sat back, having to laugh. K. Richardson. Kelly Richardson. The envelope said, in very bright red marker, 'Happy Birthday Kelly!' He snickered under his breath. They'd had a Kelly Richardson working for them a couple of months ago, but she'd quit to take a job at a law firm in the records department. Yeah, this seemed right up her alley. Nice enough woman, and pretty too. Also a world class flirt, but hopelessly faithful to her husband, a construction worker with ham hocks for biceps. He'd taken a lot of good natured teasing from his associates about 'Mrs. Richardson'. "Hey, how's the Mrs. today?' and all the rest.

Still snickering, he got her file from his cabinet and looked to see if he still had her home number. Bingo! Leaning against his desk, he dialed her house, figuring to leave a message, then blinked when he got a disconnection message. He hung up with a sigh, and stared at the crystal on his desk. Great. Now what was he supposed to do with it? He snagged the box to look at the return address again, but all it said was 'Grey, Wyoming'. Well shit. That didn't help. Then he saw the pink slip and it hit him. He'd return it. He grinned and dialed the delivery service, more than happy to let them figure out what to do with it. After all, they were the ones who'd screwed up the delivery. He deliberately ignored the thought that it wouldn't hurt at all to be able to see that delivery woman again. When she'd stood, he'd gotten a good look at her. He could tell she had all the curves a woman should have, in all the right places. Short though. He figured the top of her head would barely reach his chin. He shook his head to clear it when he realized he was mentally working out the logistics of how to kiss such a short woman without killing his back or neck. Instead he occupied himself with wondering just what L.G. stood for.

The Negotiation

"Hey Greene! Come on over here for a minute!"

Lindsay groaned inwardly when she heard the dispatcher. Bob was a nice enough guy, but he was such a stickler for policy! She wondered if he was going to give her a lecture about wearing the damn cap again, which she'd taken off as soon as she'd made her last delivery. Veering through the sorting bay after dropping off her clipboard and other gear, she punched out and dragged herself over to the dispatch window.

"Hi Bob. What's up?" She was tired, cranky, hot, hated her job, had no life, and just wanted to go home and take a bath, but she'd find out what he wanted. He was lucky he was a nice guy though.

Bob picked up a slip of paper; a phone sheet. "We got a call about one of your deliveries. Did you deliver a package to a Keith Richardson?" He interrupted himself, as he usually did. She swore the man couldn't stay on a topic for more than a minute. "Hey, isn't that that guitar player for the Stones?"

She sighed. "That's Keith Richards. But yes, I delivered a package to a K. Richardson." She stressed the last syllable to try and remind Bob to stay with the conversation. "Was something wrong with the delivery?"

Bob chuckled. "Oh yeah, Richards. Right." Then he got himself back on track. "Yeah, he called. Turns out the package wasn't for him. Guess there was another K. Richardson that used to work there, but left a few months ago. He wants us to pick up the package again. Take it back." He shook his head. Pain in the ass executives.

"No. No Bob." She tried to finagle her way out of it. "My shift's done, I just clocked out, and I want to go home. Have Frankie do it." She really didn't want to schlep all the way across town again to pick up the damn package. It wasn't her fault there was more than one K. Richardson at that place! She saw the implacable look on Bob's face and sighed. Dammit. She was stuck, and she knew it. Seeing him open his mouth to start reciting company policy about each carrier being responsible for the packages they deliver, etc etc etc... she held up a hand and grumbled, "Alright, I'll go. But I'm changing first." Bob opened his mouth again and she gave him 'the look'. "Don't start on company policy with me Bob. I'm off the clock, I'm not wearing this uniform anymore today!" With that she turned on her heel and stalked off to the ladies' locker room. None of the carriers wore their uniforms home. They were all dropped in a laundry bin at the end of the shift, to be sent out to a professional laundering service.

After showering quick and changing into her 'street clothes', Lindsay made her way to the parking garage, and her battered but beloved cherry red Jeep. Maybe not the most impressive of cars, but it was hers, and she loved the freedom of it. She always managed to just feel better when she slid behind the wheel. And it was a hell of a lot better than the breadbox on wheels she had to drive for work!

She pulled out of the garage, threading through traffic easily. Just past rush hour, it wasn't near as grueling as it could have been to get across town. She even managed to find a meter spot only a few feet away from the building! Will wonders never cease?

After digging in her purse to feed the meter, she went inside. Where it was after office hours, she had to clear entry with the security guard. So she gave her name and waited, mentally shaking her head at the paranoia of the upper crust. The security dialed up to the office, muttering into the phone, and casting her suspicious looks, which only made her want to laugh even more.

"Name?" the security guard grunted.

She could feel the giggles wanting to start and wondered if he was going to ask for rank and serial number next. But she made herself behave. "Lindsay Greene."

A few more mutters into the phone, and she almost died when he asked, very militarily, "Company name?"

She was going to lose it, she knew it. She had to clear her throat, almost losing it all over again at the suspicious look on his face, but she managed to get out, "TransCont Shipping." Very relieved when he buzzed her through and jerked a thumb at the open elevator, she hurried in, trying to keep herself contained. She didn't know why, but for some reason, his stiff paranoia struck her as hilarious. She giggled all the way up to the ninth floor.

Keith hung up the phone and sat back, a small smile on his lips. Well, now he knew what L.G. stood for. Lindsay... that was a pretty name. It fit her well. His eyes fell on the package sitting on the corner of his desk, and reminded himself that he hadn't done this to see the woman again but to return the damn crystal sex toy occupying his desk. Right. That's why he was sitting there, wondering what she would look like underneath him. How her eyes would darken, her athletic, tight body gripping his... sweat broke out on his forehead, and he was afraid he'd have to stay sitting when she showed up. The risk of embarrassing himself didn't stop him from thinking though. It was like now that he was thinking about it, he couldn't stop. He just kept wondering, was she a quiet lover, or the more vocal sort? Would her nipples harden eagerly, or would they need coaxing? He reached down to adjust the painful erection currently wearing a tattoo of his zipper on it, then jerked his hand away when he heard the front office door open. Jesus! That's all he'd need, to be sitting here with a raging hard on for the woman, and have her walk in on him with his hand if not in his pants, then at least on them! That was enough to help him get himself together and by the time the soft knock sounded on his door, he had himself under better control. He quickly picked up a few papers and pretended to look busy. "Come in."

"Mr. Richardson?"

He set the papers down and looked up, then wished he hadn't. If she'd been pretty in her uniform, she was a knockout out of it. He was surprised to see she'd changed clothes, and for a moment the suspicious part of him wondered why. Then he called himself an asshole. Right. She'd met him for all of two minutes, and had engineered this whole thing, delivering the package to him by mistake, just so she could come by after office hours and seduce him. Yeah. He had to say though, the Tigger t-shirt she was wearing hugged her curves wonderfully, the gentle swell of her breasts making Keith jealous of a cartoon character for the first time in his life. Her jeans were well worn, he could tell. Faded to a very light blue, they made him forget about his jealousy of Tigger, and reduced him to being jealous of denim. God! She had a body made to be pinned under a man, wrapped around him. He could feel himself stiffening in his pants again, but snapped out of his reverie quick when he finally raised his eyes to hers, and saw the bewilderment there. He cleared his throat and waved her in.

"I'm sorry, miss. Please, come in." He tried to cover his shameless gawking by getting right to the point. "It seems there's been a mistake. This package was not intended for me."

"Yes, my dispatcher told me. There was another K. Richardson here, but they left the company...?" It was a question, to which he nodded, indicating she had it right. "If you don't mind my saying so Mr. Richardson, since a specific name wasn't given, just an initial... and it's your name too.... by law you don't have to return the package. I know it sounds greedy, or sneaky, or whatever. But if it's something you like, you can keep it."

He chuckled at that, sarcasm fairly dripping from his words. "Well, I tried to find a place for it in my decor, but really it was just too small to do anything with. Even as a paperweight. Besides, it's not exactly my style." He laughed a little harder at the perplexed look on her face and gestured to the box. "By all means, have a look." He watched her with a grin as she bent over the desk to peek into the box. From the moment she bent over, her breasts pressing against the thin fabric of the t-shirt, he became strongly pro-Tigger. His eyes returned to her face at her soft gasp of surprise. The blush he saw there endeared him, but the knowing laugh and the look in her eyes that went with it intrigued him. Very much so. He was also very grateful he was still sitting behind his desk.

She looked at him, saw his grin, and returned it. At least he had a sense of humor about it. Her own came to her rescue, chasing away her faint embarrassment. "I can see what you mean. It doesn't exactly go with the room." Then she hit him with a bombshell. "But I can't take it back." She suppressed an impish grin at his dismayed look. "The package has already been opened. Once it's opened, we can't take it back. Company policy." And for once she was very glad for company policy!

"But... I can't keep that thing!"

Giggling now, no longer able to hold back, she said cheerfully, "I'm sorry Mr. Richardson. There's nothing I can do."

He sighed, and grumbled good naturedly, "If I have to keep that thing, the least you can do is call me Keith." She smiled, but got nervous though, when she saw a little gleam come into his eyes, and saw his grin widen. "Well, since I can't return it, and really don't want to keep it, why don't you have it?" He pointed to the card sitting next to the box. "Obviously it was intended to be gift. It seems a shame to have the gesture go to waste."

"Me?! What am I supposed to do with a three inch dil-- uh, with it?" Ah hell. She'd walked into it now, and she knew she was in big trouble when his smile turned erotic. His voice, already sexy as hell, made her shiver when it dropped to a low murmur. Yeah, she thought absently. Definitely a voice to hear in a darkened bedroom.

"Ms. Greene, from that smile you had, I'd have thought you'd know exactly what it's for."

Did he have solar panels for windows? Sheesh it was getting hot.... She knew she should get all outraged, and threaten him with a civil suit for harassment, but that just wasn't her style. And she couldn't resist tossing it back at him. Very casually (something she certainly wasn't feeling at the moment!), she tossed off, "Ah, but what if I'd rather have the real thing, and not a tiny crystal imitation?" Shit! That came out wrong.

His smile was pure sex. "Ms. Greene, are you propositioning me?"

Yes! "No, simply stating a fact." Liar! She began to fidget restlessly, caught herself, and made herself stop.

"My apologies then," he chuckled. "Would you care to come have a drink with me then, and we can decide the crystal's fate?"

Had he just.... gorgeous, sexy, thoroughly edible him had just asked her out for a drink?! Trying not to act stunned, she smiled. "I suppose I can spare time for a drink, Mr. Richardson." Ha! Like she was doing anything else tonight. She chucked quietly. "I'm not exactly dressed for anything spectacular though."

He thought she looked sexy as hell. He'd never seen a woman do a pair of jeans and a t-shirt better justice. "Personally, I think the only thing you'd look better in would be nothing at all." The words were out before he could stop them. Great! Now she'd probably throw the damn crystal dick at his head. He spoke quickly, to cover his slight goof. "Please, I asked you to call me Keith."

Her gaping jaw made him nervous, but when she laughed, that sexy twinkle returning to her eye, he relaxed. "True, but you keep calling me Ms. Greene. I'll make a deal with you. You call me Lindsay, I'll call you Keith."

He had to laugh, the sound a low rumble in his chest. "Deal. Then, Lindsay, what do you say? Care to have a drink with me?"

She shook her head, and for a second Keith thought it was a refusal, then grinned when she said, "What the hell, why not?"

"Great, I'll just grab my coat then. And the box," he added, making her laugh. He decided he really liked her laugh. It was light, almost musical. Putting action to word, he grabbed his sport coat and tossed it over his arm, then grabbed the fateful box, sharing a knowing grin with her. He led her out, the two of them just standing uncomfortably in the elevator at first, but after a few minutes, they were chatting easily. The easy conversation continued as Keith walked with her, leading her the two short blocks to a small bar he liked to frequent occasionally. Nothing fancy, but not a hole in the wall, it managed to find ground right in the middle and be a very comfortable place to unwind. Didn't hurt they had the best hot wings in the city, either. After they were seated, he ordered them a basket, a beer for himself, then looked to her. At her nod, he told the waitress to make it two. He was impressed. Most women he knew would always go for the fruity concoctions, or (even more irritating) advertise with their order. It got to the point where just hearing someone order a 'Sex on the Beach' or a 'Long Slow Screw Against the Wall' set his teeth on edge. It was a refreshing change to have a drink with a woman who was comfortable enough with herself to just go ahead and knock back a beer with him. Although incredibly, now he was kind of wishing she'd start sending out those billboard signals. If she'd ordered a Long Slow Screw Against the Wall, he'd be more than happy to oblige, and would yell for the check now! Instead he got comfortable, setting the box on the chair between them and dropping his coat over it.

Their conversation was coming almost frighteningly easy, and before theyknew it, their second beers were almost gone, the hot wings demolished. Keith had taken his tie off and stuffed it in his coat pocket, and undone the top two buttons of his shirt, getting comfortable. Somehow the topic got onto tattoos, and he discovered she had a couple. That piqued his interest, and he waggled his brows lasciviously. "Where ya got 'em?"

Her laugh was wicked, and sexy as hell. He had to shift a little in his seat, trying to get comfortable. Damn zipper was gonna be his death, he thought. When he heard where she had the tattoos, he thought for sure he was going to have permanent indentations from it.

"I have a vine around my ankle, and a butterfly, here." She pointed to her chest, just at the swell of her right breast. And he wondered how he was able to say even a simple word, considering every drop of blood in his body was below the waist at the moment. "Nice," he purred. There was a moment of intense silence as they just looked at each other, and the look in her eyes almost made him groan. It wasn't the calculated seduction he was used to seeing, or the 'hey I want to get laid, and you'll do' look of invitation. Her look was... hungry. That was all he could think to describe it. Hungry, wanting... Lindsay broke the silence first, and he smiled inwardly at the unsteady quality of it. He knew exactly what it was. She was just as on edge as he was, but trying to act casual, defuse the moment. It frustrated him a little though. He didn't want to defuse the moment, he wanted to act on it. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder caveman style, take her back to his apartment and spread her beneath him, taking her again and again, until neither of them could move. But he let her retreat a little. He may be rock hard, but he wasn't in any rush. Although he was starting to seriously wonder just how long the average American male could survive terminal hard on.

"I was thinking of getting a heart there, but it's so common, and I wanted something different. Really, though. You go to a tattoo parlor, and all you see is 'This one got a heart, and that one got a heart, and this one got a heart where?!' They shared a good laugh at that, although he had a few idly indecent thoughts. A few?! Who was he kidding? He'd been having thoughts since he met her that would make a porn star blush.

Lindsay was having fun. Way, way too much fun. The longer she spent with him, the less she wanted to go home alone. Oh, quit the euphemisms Lindsay! You want to take him home and jump him until he begs for mercy. Not classy or ladylike, but true enough. A change of subject was definitely in order. She gestured to the box sitting at his side. "So, I suppose we should figure out what do to with that." She knew exactly what she wanted to do, with a certain likeness of it! Forget the crystal. She didn't want cold glass, she wanted.... she took a quick gulp of her beer, blushing even deeper at his knowing grin and quirked eyebrow. She took a deep breath to regain her equilibrium, then fell apart laughing at his lusty comment.

"Damn, I love Tigger!"

Her cheeks were burning, but it wasn't all from embarrassment. She saw him staring straight at her chest, and she could almost feel it, to the point where her nipples were hardening under his gaze. Her laughter petered out, leaving her staring at him staring at her breasts. She'd just met the man today, how could she be so turned on just by him looking at her that she ached from it?

Keith looked up fast, and Lindsay knew he caught her staring at him. He didn't seem to notice though, and she saw the slow flush creep up from his neck and over his cheeks. They both started to talk at the same time.

He cleared his throat. "Uhh, I-"

Lindsay chuckled self consciously. "I think-"

Now they both did it, studiously avoiding each other's gazes. After another awkward moment of silence, Keith tried again. "I'm sorry Lindsay. I shouldn't have... uhh..." After a good start, he seemed to flounder for words. Lindsay stopped him gently, her smile now rueful.

"I know what you're trying to say Keith, but it's okay. I really do think I ought to be heading out though."

If anything, Keith's flush got a little darker. "Okay, I'll walk you back to your car then."

After paying the tab (he steadfastly refused to let her go dutch, reminding her with a small smile that he'd asked her out for drinks), he slung his jacket over his arm. He stood still for a moment, staring at the box that had been under it, then just grabbed it up, tucking it nonchalantly under his arm. They headed out, both quiet, and made their way the short distance up the block. At her jeep, Keith firmly (but not forcefully) laid his hand against her door. As charming (and attractive) as he was, Lindsay couldn't help the tightening of her muscles when she saw him barring her way. She trusted her intuition, but living in the city, the stories you read in the paper.... She relaxed again when he spoke.

"Listen, I appreciate that you're good with it, but it's not okay. Not really. You're a very beautiful woman, but even considering the way we wound up at that bar together," he gestured vaguely to the box under his arm, letting go of her car door to do it. "That was still out of line. I'm sorry."

She heard the quiet sincerity in his voice, saw it in his face by the sulfurous glow of the street lamp, and couldn't help be charmed, at least a little. Setting her nerves at rest the rest of the way, she laid a light hand on his bicep. "Apology accepted." She said this quietly, with a smile that was both playful and warm. Seeing it seemed to set him at ease, because she felt him relax under her hand, saw his face clear. The smile that followed tickled her nerves, setting them humming, but also made her very glad she was an easy going type of woman who wasn't easily offended. Yeah, it had been pretty blatant, but she was sure it hadn't been calculated. It just... happened.

"Thanks. So... I, uh, I was wondering..." Fuck, he was stuttering. First he acted like a drunken redneck eyeing a local stripper, staring at her chest the way he had, and now he was tripping over his own tongue. This was sad. He was a grown man, not a high school kid asking out the head cheerleader for god's sake! He cleared his throat softly and started over. "Lindsay, would you like to have dinner with me this weekend?" He gave her his most encouraging smile.

Lindsay just blinked a couple of times. He was asking her on a bona fide, no playful segue, you-parry-I-feint, honest to god date? Okay, so maybe her ego had been taking a beating lately, because her first thought was ‘what's the catch?' but she mentally shook that self defeatist b.s. off and decided (again) ‘what the hell?' All these thoughts passed in the space of seconds, and it had barely been five before she smiled in return. How could she not? That grin he was wearing was damn cute. "Sure, I'd like that. Saturday?"

Keith didn't let how glad he was that she accepted show. Except for the slight widening of his grin, which he couldn't help. "Saturday it is. Do you like seafood? There's a great seafood place uptown, Regina's..."

Her own grin widening, she nodded. "Saturday's good, and I love seafood." She hadn't been to Regina's though, because it was a little higher priced than she could normally afford. That was one of the restaurants she classed as ‘special occasion only', meaning for birthdays, anniversaries (at least in theory), holiday dinners.

"Great, then I'll pick you up around, what? Seven?"

They worked out the details, and Lindsay reached into her car to grab a small notepad from the glove box, scribbling down her address and telephone number. Keith admired the view as she bent into the car, quickly raising his eyes when she backed out again. One blunder was bad enough. He didn't want to push his luck. He plucked the pen out of her fingers when she was done and tore off a corner of the small notebook page. He jotted down his number, then on a whim his address too, and slipped it and the pen into her hand with a grin.

"Just in case." He dropped a quick wink.

Keith waited at the curb until Lindsay had pulled out, threading her way efficiently into traffic (not near as bad as rush hour, but bad enough), then headed back into his office building. He barely acknowledged Will the security guard, just tossing an absent wave in his direction. He stayed lost in thought through the whole elevator ride, thinking over everything that had happened today. He chuckled softly to himself as the elevator dinged and the doors shushed open. Hell of a day....

The Standoff

The date at Regina's had been wonderful; the food, the atmosphere, but especially the company. Lindsay had had a terrific time. That had set the tone for the next month and a half, her and Keith going out at least once a week, sometimes more. The things they did varied wildly. The first night had been a relaxed, only slightly formal dinner at Regina's. The next weekend, they'd had a ‘day date', spending almost all of Saturday together. They went to an open air gym and went rock climbing (on a fake rock wall with full safety harnesses), then swimming, then had a very casual dinner of take out fried chicken, potato wedges, slaw, and cans of soda in the park.

They'd gotten to know each other quite well over the course of that month and a half. Linsday for instance found out that Keith loved all seafood equally... except for octopus. He couldn't stand it, because of the texture. She also found out that they shared a great love for horror movies, both liked chunky peanut butter, and had to laugh in delight when Keith admitted (blushing furiously) that he was an avid Harry Potter fan. The books of course, although he liked the movies too.

Keith, for his part, was thrilled to find out they had so much in common (especially the Harry Potter books, which Lindsay admitted to without a trace of a blush, he noted), but it was the things they didn't that interested him most. Like the fact that she drew the line at the ‘weird' seafood, like octopus, squid, mussels. He'd pretended great shock when he'd offered her one of his oysters that first night and she'd wrinkled her nose cutely. He found out that she was a sucker for sappy commercials, especially around Christmas time, baby animals, and sad love songs.

Their ‘activities' had run the gamut, right along with their conversation. Dinner at Regina's, rock climbing, an early morning stroll through the local wildlife preserve, which was basically a jumped up park with walking trails, followed by brunch at the pancake house. Playing pool at what was called an ‘entertainment hall' but was really just a pool hall and bar, but it was good enough and they had a blast, even though neither of them was very good at the game. They'd gone to the movies, having a ball scaring themselves silly over the newest horror flick, sharing popcorn (another thing they had in common, extra butter!) and teasing each other over who jumped the furthest out of their seat afterward, on the drive back.

They always wound up at one or the other's apartment, but the night always concluded the same way: both of them breathless and wanting. By mutual agreement though, they were waiting. For what, neither could say really. But they'd know it when it happened, whatever ‘it' was. They sure as hell weren't applying for sainthood though.

Lindsay ruminated over all of this as she threaded her delivery truck through downtown, fighting Friday afternoon traffic. A lot of it came from the factory down by the railroad. Three o'clock to four thirty was always a bitch, because of all the shift workers getting out of work. Normally it frazzled her nerves to their limit, but today she distracted herself looking back over the past six weeks. Just like she'd been doing for the past five.

It never ceased to amaze her how fast they'd seemed to click. After that first night, in fact, over beers and hot wings, it had seemed like they'd known each other for years. Regina's had been awkward, because Lindsay had felt very out of her element, but once they settled into their table and she realized that this wasn't so much different from Kippy's Wharf (just slightly fancier décor), she'd relaxed and they'd had a great time. By the time their appetizer of stuffed grape leaves had arrived -something she'd never had before, but found out she really liked- she could have been in one of the red plastic booths at Kippy's and felt just as comfortable.

It was the end of each of their dates that stood out most in her memory however. Steamy sessions on his couch, her loveseat, on the floor... she figured they'd hit just about every horizontal surface except the kitchen tables. And the beds of course... By mutual, unspoken agreement, they avoided the bedrooms. Most of the time she felt equally torn between relieved when they finally came up for air and ready to scream in frustration.

The light turned green and she started her truck rolling again, glancing absently at her ‘call sheet' to reread the address of her next package. Good, she was almost there. Today was a short day for her (especially considering it was a Friday) and after this one, she only had two more to deliver and she'd be off for the day. That was good, because she had a feeling that the sensual stand-off that she and Keith had been engaged in was going to come to an end tonight.

***

For his part, Keith was staring out the window of his office. After all was said and done, he'd kept the crystal dildo, leaving it in its box in the bottom drawer of his desk. Over the past six weeks, he'd made a few half hearted attempts to find Kelly Richardson, to deliver the package to her, but hadn't had any luck. And the more he spent time with Lindsay, the more he found he didn't want to. Sentimental maybe, but this stupid thing was what introduced them, and he wasn't in so much of a hurry to get rid of it now. He didn't want to keep it for any other reason than that (actually only barely even wanted to see it, it just did nothing for him), but the snafu it had caused had brought a really great woman into his life.

Was he getting too far ahead? Maybe. But he honestly enjoyed spending time with her. If it wasn't for the incredible sexual attraction, he'd call her a great friend. That attraction though.... He thought of their last date, ending the evening on Lindsay's love seat....

They had just gotten back from playing a few games of pool (making up new rules for eight ball as they went), and were laughing at themselves and each other as Lindsay unlocked her door to let them in. That he would be coming in was a foregone conclusion. Keith dropped on the couch while Lindsay went into the small kitchenette to start the coffee. When she came back to sit with him while it brewed, he gently tugged her closer so she was reclining back against him. He shifted under her so that she could recline more fully, and -knowing by now beyond a doubt that his touch would be welcomed- he started to lightly rub her neck. Her low, soft moan all the encouragement he needed, he gradually let his hands slide further over her shoulders, down over her chest...

"Sir, Redman and Byrnes on line one."

The brash sound of the intercom interrupted his reverie, making him jump a little in his leather office chair. Fuck! He raked a hand through his hair, trying to get this thoughts on the attorneys now waiting for him to pick up, and off of the shameless, exotic way Lindsay had arched her back as he played with her nipples on her couch, pressing her breasts into his hands, the way her head had fallen to the side to allow his mouth free access to her neck...

He shook his head again to clear it and snatched up the receiver, almost barking into it, "Richardson."

He knew immediately his frustration had come through anyway, by the stammered greeting of the secretary on the other line. While he waited for her to connect him through (a foolish practice, he thought, and pretty damn rude too. If you want to talk to someone, don't call just to put them on hold!) he tried to get a hold of himself and set his sexual frustrations aside.

Soon enough he was immersed in the every day business of consulting, in this case a business venture, a tax shelter cleverly (but quite legally) housed in a charitable fund. After forty minutes of haggling, explaining, and almost having to lecture these two attorneys on business law (of all things!), he finally concluded the call, promising to have a write up of the venture to them within a week. He hung up, glad as hell to have that call over and done with. Redman and Byrnes was a respectable law firm (personal injury mostly, in Keith's opinion, just glorified ambulance chasers and hustlers), but Keith often wondered what went on in those offices after business hours. He thought about it a while longer, thoughts of Lindsay -for the moment- out of mind. He decided that after this tax shelter/charity fund was set up and running and fully turned over to the trusty R&B, he was cutting out. He'd advise his employees that they were to very politely decline any more contracts from that firm. Maybe they weren't doing anything shady, but he still didn't like the questions they'd asked about the finer shadings of business law concerning charities... No, after this one, R&B could find another firm.

That decision made, he turned his chair and stared out the window again, his thoughts floating back to Linsday. He replayed the sound of her helpless, hungry cries in his mind and realized that they were coming to a crossroads. They could either turn away and stay what they were for the moment, good friends, or they could take that final step to lovers. He knew that the possibility of abandoning the attraction between them was almost no option at all, for either of them. A slow smile crossed his lips. They were having dinner at her place tonight. A ‘casual night', she was cooking something simple, and he was bringing a few movies rental at the local video store. And he had a strong feeling that tonight was going to be a very, very interesting night.

‘The Shining'

As soon as Lindsay opened the door to find Keith standing there with three slim DVD cases in his hand and a ghost of a knowing grin on his lips, she knew that tonight was the night. An answering grin tugged at her lips and they both chuckled softly as she opened the door wider to let him in.

They chatted easily, both of them knowing the night would end in her bed, and this seemed to let them relax and just enjoy each other. Dinner was a simple affair, just a couple of steaks cooked to a tender medium rare, baked potatoes and small salads, Lindsay with thousand island dressing, Keith with creamy Italian. He laughingly asked her why a woman living by herself needed to have six different kinds of salad dressing in her fridge. She'd just smirked and told him that she had a use for each and every one of them. The innuendo was funny as well as exciting, but Keith knew what she meant. All he had to do was watch her get the Caesar out of the fridge to top her baked potato to know.

They lingered over dinner, washing down the meal with a couple of beers (in bottles; Lindsay said she hated the taste of aluminum in her beer, and getting glasses for it would just be goofy). As she cleaned up and stacked the dishes in the sink for later, Keith asked her which of the three movies she wanted to watch first. They'd talked about each of the three over their steaks.

"How about The Shining? I love that one," she answered with an anticipatory grin. He'd managed to find a rare copy of the new version, with Rebecca DeMornay. In her opinion it was the better version, even though they both had to admit that Jack Nicholson had done a terrific job as Jack in the first one!

With a wink and a cheeky half-salute, Keith headed over to the living room (not really a separate room, the dining ‘area' was more of an alcove off to the side of her small kitchen), and started up her machine. By the time he slid the disc into the tray and closed it, Lindsay was done setting the dishes to soak and was already waiting for him on the loveseat. They settled in together and she wielded the remote, setting them into the creepy confines of the Overlook Hotel.

About the time that Jack was hearing his dead father over the short wave, Lindsay and Keith were only nominally watching the movie. Their attention was most definitely focused on each other instead. The movie had become background noise, an anachronous but barely noticed soundtrack to heightening arousal.

Keith had eased her back against him again, settling her comfortably between his thighs, his own back against the corner of the loveseat. His hands had stayed comfortably around her waist through most of the movie thus far, but little by little they had crept up under her shirt, stroking slowly (maddeningly) across the smooth skin of her stomach. His eyes had been on the tv screen, but his focus had been on her, hearing every soft hitch of breath, every low sigh of pleasure as his hands continued their slow climb. He felt every subtle, restless shift of her body against him, alternately pressing closer and sliding down to allow her to lay back more fully against him. He felt the way the tension slowly seeped into her, making her body tight against his, her hands eventually sliding from their starting point over his, down his forearms until they dropped away completely, reaching back enough to grab onto his thighs, holding on and tugging herself closer. Her hair smelled like jasmine, the soft chocolate color gleaming richly in the lamp light, and the taste of her skin when he finally abandoned the movie entirely and dipped his head to first nip lightly, then kiss his way along the slim column of her neck, was like hot cinnamon candy coated in cool champagne.

Lindsay's eyes drifted shut finally when she felt his mouth at her neck. She knew he'd discovered what an erogenous zone her neck was for her and it seemed tonight he was determined to use it to its fullest advantage. The sensations shivered through her like heat waves of hot concrete, leaving her body weak against his. When his teeth grazed the skin just above her collar bone she moaned low in her throat, a sound of pure sensual abandon. The way she was laying against him, she could feel the hard length of his arousal against her lower back and all she wanted was to turn around, to feel it someplace a lot closer. When she tried to, he held her gently in place, his fingers expertly teasing her nipples all the restraint he needed. She moaned again as each soft tug shot between her legs, making her ache. "Keith..."

Hearing the way she moaned his name made him shudder, and when he answered, his voice was low and earthy in her ear. "What babe?" He knew what she wanted, he wanted the same thing, but he also wanted this to be something she would never forget. And besides, he was in no rush for any of this to end. The need was there, pulsing painfully against his jeans, making his heartbeat loud in his ears, but he wanted this to last.

"Let's... the bedroom..." she gestured weakly, vaguely to the door he knew led to her bedroom.

He grinned against her neck, answering her after nipping lightly at the skin there again, feeling her shudder as he let her skin slide out from between his teeth slowly. "Not yet."

Her answering whimper, a sound rife with impatience and need, made the constriction of his jeans even worse. His fingers abandoned her nipples, his hands cupping her breasts, massaging them, lifting their soft weight enough to force her back to arch against his chest. Her breath was fast and shaky in her throat.

She was going to go insane soon, she thought dimly. He was going to tease her just a little too long and she was going to lose it completely. When she felt him bite a little harder at her shoulder it was like a match strike. Galvanized, she twisted out of his grip and turned, rising to her knees so that they straddled one of his. She barely registered his look of surprise, but she did see the heat in his eyes, and she could feel it in hers too. Bracing her hands, one on the back of the loveseat, the other on the arm, she leaned forward, catching his mouth in a fierce, fiery kiss. When she felt his hands grip her hips in a strong, confident hold she moaned into his mouth, their tongues dancing erotically the whole time as he dragged her closer. Her thigh was snugged against his length, his own pressed up now, rubbing her through two thin layers of denim and one of lace. The slightly rough scratch of the fabrics drove her insane, the pressure only making her ache worse, not better.

He let go of one of her hips long enough to slide his hand around her thigh, shifting it so that she was straddling him more completely, then turned under her, not breaking the kiss, or allowing her to. Once he had both feet on the carpet, he reset his hold at her thighs and stood, lifting her with him, keeping her tight against him. He felt her gasp against his mouth, and her arms slide around his shoulders for purchase. Still almost devouring her mouth, he carried her across the small room and into her bedroom, pivoting once they were past the doorway and bracing her back against the wall, pinning her there.

She felt the wall against her back and groaned, locking her legs around his waist and grinding forward against him, kissing him with even more passion, if that was possible. When his hands left her hips, she tightened her legs, lifting her arms gladly, impatiently, when she felt him grab the hem of her t shirt and roughly yanked it over her head.

Their combined breath was harsh and loud in the small bedroom, and Lindsay only just registered the sound before Keith's mouth closed over one lace covered nipple, sucking strongly at her. Her back arched, her shoulders pressing tighter at the wall, and she cried out, a broken, lusty sound that seemed to spur him on further. He slid his hands over her back and turned again, striding toward her bed in two long steps. She managed to force her eyes open, her eyes barely wanting to focus. They did enough though, and the look of pure heat on his face made her stomach clench. God, just the way he looked... He braced his knee against the foot of her bed and leaned forward, pressing her into the mattress, and could only think of one thing to say. "Ohh yes..."

Her legs still around his waist, when his weight pressed down into her and he ground his hips, her eyes slammed closed again, soft sparks flying behind her lids. He caught her mouth with his again, grinding against her in an erotic rhythm, his tongue imitating it as it explored her mouth.

She was so lightheaded she barely noticed as his sinfully expert hands quickly got rid of her bra (later she'd wonder how he managed to reach under her for the clasp without her knowing), but when he pried her legs from his waist, her eyes flew open in dim panic.

Keith saw it and smiled darkly. The view he had was incredible. He watched her while he slowly stripped first her jeans, then her panties off of her, taking his time. Damn she was sexy. Her skin was flushed, even across her breasts, her nipples hard and eager, her body writhing minutely, her hair disheveled and spread out like a dark halo against the light colored covers. It took him a lot less time to get out of his own t shirt and jeans, kicking them off quick. Less than a second later, his boxers and socks joined the pile on the floor, and he just spent another moment looking over her body, spread out for him like a banquet. He could see the hunger, the need for him to hurry on her face, but there was something else he wanted to do first.

He dropped to his knees at the foot of her bed and grabbed her hips again, dragging her to the edge, draping her legs over his shoulders. Lindsay gasped softly, knowing what he had in mind, and it made her stomach flutter. When he looked up her body at her and smiled, it was pure sex. A moment later she felt his mouth on her, his tongue so light, teasing her. She panted roughly once, then again, soon enough she was gasping for breath, his tongue, his lips, even his teeth all working to drive her over the edge of madness. He seemed to know every telltale sign, because again and again he brought her right to the edge, only to stop before she flew over it, keeping her right there. It was only when he had her sobbing for breath and shamelessly begging that he closed his mouth around her clit and sucked, pulsing his mouth around it and rubbing with the flat of his tongue. Within seconds of this assault she was coming, her legs clamping like two vices on his shoulders, her body arched and shaking as though struck by a strong electrical current, her breathless scream broken and strident. She clenched her fists in the cover beneath her, needing to hold on to something, oh god, he wasn't stopping and with her clit throbbing almost painfully against his tongue, the movement of it and his lips driving her further, she couldn't breathe, her head was spinning, raw mindless sounds pouring out of her...

He groaned against her when he felt her flying apart, watching her along the length of her body as she rode out her orgasm, grinding herself against his mouth. The expression on her face was of pleasure so sharp and intense it was almost pain and the rush that gave him, knowing it was by his mouth she felt that... he was done teasing. His erection throbbing in time with his fast heartbeat, he stood quickly, pushing her further up onto her bed before she could come down of her sensory high, and braced her legs up and apart under her knees. Pausing only long enough to line himself up with her glistening opening, he thrust forward, burying himself in her up to the hilt in one smooth push.

His harsh groan mingled with her sharp cry, an erotic harmony that made the idea of taking his time now laughable. They were both past that point. Way past it. He pulled back until only his head was snug inside of her, then thrust forward again, setting a deep, heavy rhythm against her, driving them both mercilessly. Her legs tightened in his hands, pushing them down, he knew she was trying to get them around him, but he wouldn't let her. He leaned forward further, pushing her legs further up and apart, his body never stopping, burying himself in her again and again.

"Lindsay look at me," he growled. He wanted to watch her fly, wanted to see the look on her face, in her eyes, when she did.

She almost screamed again when she heard that low growl and forced her eyes open. Her throat was already raw, her breath tearing through her throat. She was already so close again, and from the look on his face, he was too. Her eyes locked on his, her body straining up against him, her lower stomach coiled tighter and tighter, like a spring wound too tight, then he slammed his hips forward again and that was it, she was coming again. She tried to keep her eyes open and on his, and for a moment she did. It was long enough to see his eyes practically burn as he watched her, but finally she couldn't keep them open anymore. Her eyes slammed shut, her head thrown back and pressing into the cover enough to arch her body taut as a bowstring, shaking almost violently as she screamed her release again.

He watched her, felt her riding out her orgasm, and the feel of her body clenching around him, almost milking him, it was too much. He buried himself in her one last time as far as he could, his length swollen and pulsing, and when he came it felt like a geyser, the force of it making him almost shout. It seemed to last an eon...

Finally drained, his balls tender and aching as they lay against her, he dropped forward, letting go of her legs and bracing his weight on his hands on either side of her. They were both gasping for breath now, the sound of Jack's pantry conversation with Grady in the other room falling on deaf ears. Good god! With extreme effort he (very reluctantly) slipped out of her and dropped next to her. He rolled to his side and hooked a tired arm around her, gathering her against him. He had to blink a few times to get his eyes focused completely, and had to grin when he did at the dazed, wondrous expression on her face.

Lindsay was glad he could move, because she couldn't. Not at all. Her body was still shaking too hard, her muscles refusing to listen to her brain's commands. When he pulled her against him, her body seemed to mold against his perfectly, and she looked up at him with wide eyes.

He chuckled softly, still a little out of breath himself. "Yeah, wow." He nodded and the solemn look on his face made her laugh, at least as much as she had breath to.

"Wow is... definitely... the word," she panted, resting her head on his arm. She smiled lazily, already feeling sleepy. "We should turn off the tv..."

Keith chuckled again, adjusting the pillow under his head. "Probably."

In the end they just let the dvd play out, both of them dozing before the end of the movie anyway. So they'd finish watching it in the morning. If they weren't too busy, that is.

•The ‘Harry Potter' series is the property of J.K. Rowling.

•‘The Shining', in novel and (1997) movie form (full title: Stephen King's The Shining), are the property of Stephen King and (film credits) Lakeside Productions and Warner Bros. Television.