He thought he’d lost her attention. He pulled her close. Her large eyes gazed thoughtfully at him. Then she did an exaggerated little hip swivel when the beat picked up and yelped when his hips swiveled tight to hers. They danced and laughed and kissed.
“Hey?” His hand stroked her chin. “Hungry?’
She nodded. Taking her hand he led her back to Leon. He was immersed in conversation with a cop on a horse. “Burnham.” The cop gave him a nod and eyed Mo without concealing the type of interest his look contained.
Zack picked up the books and handed Mo her backpack. “Castle.” He gave the other cop a curt nod. “Thanks Leon, see you at the gym. He bussed Mo toward the street.
“Friendly.” Mo looked at Zack and saw a smidgeon of irritation on his face.
“Ex’s cousin.” He seemed to be somewhere else for a moment. Mo walked in silence. Suddenly he put his arm around her. “Sorry.”
“It hasn’t been that long.” She liked his arm around her, casual and familiar. She raised her arm across his back. “So what are you feeding me? Pizza? Oh, I know, hotdogs. You make a good sandwich but who wants to cook.” She laughed looking up at him. He leaned in for a quick kiss.
The air around Mo’s face was suddenly warmer. Zack felt the same warmth and squeezed her against him. “I know making coffee is cooking to you, but making a sandwich is not technically cooking. This, senorita, is food city. There’s a cab now.”
“Is it rude to stare at people out in public?” Mo sipped a gin and tonic. Zack held an Amstel light.
“Not if you’re not too obvious. Twisting in your seat is obvious.” Zack took an amused sip. Mo turned and postured demureness but it didn’t last long.
“Look at her. How’d she get her hair that big? She looks kind of like your ah…friend.” Mo raised her eyebrows and sucked on the little straw. “That was good, Zack. I thought the wait would be longer but they move fast.” They sat in The Hot Woc on the near North side. The walls on the front and side were doors that could be opened onto the street in nice weather. Throngs of people strolled and walked their dogs. This was the Gold Coast. Most people were casually dressed in their designer slacks and blouses. A limo was parked along the street. The beggar on the corner wore a tie.
“I thought maybe you’d like a change from salad. And pizza.” Zack downed the last of the beer and threw a tip on the table. “Wanna walk, or have you had enough?”
“Good thing I wore my walking shoes yesterday. They’re what to wear if you’re caught in the middle of a robbery. Let’s walk. I want to see stuff. Oh, look at that!” Mo pointed to a magnificent red sequined dress in a Valentino boutique. “Sorry, just looking.” She put her arm in Zack’s. He still carried the books with the other hand. “I haven’t eaten Chinese in a long time.
“Oh, well you should have said…”
“No, no, it was great.” She squeezed his arm. “Just stuck in a food rut, I think.”
“I like cooking myself, just don’t have time to really develop it. I took lessons once. Chicago Chef’s Institute had lessons for non-professionals as they called it. Lot a fun, but I missed a lot of classes because of work.” Zack steered Mo onto Oak Street heading for the lake. It was twilight but the nice weather had people out in droves. They walked as Mo checked out the windows of expensive boutiques. They meandered for an hour with Mo stopping to admire this or that. “We can come when the stores are open if you want.”
“No. I blew my shopping budget on earrings I couldn’t live without.” She gave her head a little shake; she had put them on in the cab before dinner. “I’m suddenly feeling tired. Maybe the gin. Do you mind? Can we get a cab?”
“No problem.” He walked out into the street and waved down a Yellow. “1500 South Indiana,” he said as Mo slid in. He got in and noticed she hadn’t moved all the way over. She put her head against his shoulder and watched the city on the trip down the Drive. She toyed with a button on his shirt so he put an arm around her. Mo felt his heart beating and the rise of his chest as he breathed. Refuge. Being close to someone should be a refuge. Not pain, toil, work, conflict. Refuge. If people couldn’t find refuge in each other, where could they find it? What was the point of love if it wasn’t refuge from all the hardship in life? She snuggled against him. It was an odd sensation for her. He didn’t seem to mind and his hand stoked her hair lightly as they rode in silence. Life was hard. Had been hard. She felt so safe and comfortable. Why couldn’t people always feel this way? Maybe they wanted too much of things that didn’t matter. Maybe she should just stop thinking. She promised herself that was exactly what she would do.
Ten
Up in Zack’s condo Mo showered and put on a pair of his boxer shorts and one of his tee-shirts. “I’ll take you to get some clothes if you want,” he had offered. “And there’s a Target down Roosevelt.”
“Maybe tomorrow. After the Art Institute. But you’ve already seen it. You don’t have to go again.” She found she had an aversion to going to Greendale at present.
“No, I enjoyed it. You think a cop wouldn’t enjoy art? Tomorrow’s free day so plan on being up early.”
“What are you going to do arrest me?” She put a finger on his straight nose.
He took her wrists. “Something like that. I’m going to jump in the shower.” He gave her a friendly peck on the forehead. She’d said she was tired. It had been a long day. A great day like he hadn’t had in a long time. He didn’t want to push. Unless she…God she was so cute in his boxers. He stood under the water and thought about her. His mind vacillated between desire and an odd guilt. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to hurt. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind of everything but the here and now. But his thoughts veered toward harsh reality. Different worlds. They lived in entirely different worlds. He… Her hands came around his waist and slid up his soapy stomach to his chest. His mind went numb but his body came alive.
“Nice ass, Detective.” She ran her hands down his sides and smoothed them over the ass in question. He turned to her wet, soapy and half hard already. One slick of her hand took care of the other half. He gazed at her dark eyes. Her damp hair had been twisted up into a large knot on the back of her head. Loose strands fell on her shoulders and breasts. Droplets of water beaded on her face. His head shot back with a moan as she ran her hand on him. She put her forehead on his chest to watch her hand. He gripped her shoulders. “Wait.”
“What for?” She squeezed. She was fascinated at his reaction. She experimented with touch. What happens…Oh! How about…his gasps were sure answers. He put his arms around her. He wanted to kiss her. Touch her. “No.” She cupped him. He lurched with full force. Both hands on him now she stroked and tickled. She giggled at his swaying, bouncing member and had an urge to flick it and watch it spring. Spring it did and he was insane. He grabbed hard. He held her with one powerful arm and slid a hand over her mound and deeper. She brought a knee up to his hip. He lifted her and brought her down on him slowly intruding against the initial resistance. Her back was against the shower wall. The water flowed and splashed as he lifted her again. His face was in her chest. He kissed the soft curves. Warm water splashed on her face and shoulder. Mo reached around him and squeezed the buns she had praised biting his shoulder as he drew her almost off then onto him again bracing her with powerful arms.
“Mo.” He thrust pulling her down again and again on him, craving the depth of her. Then he held her at the very tip of fulfillment enjoying the panicked plea of her whimpers. She struggled to have all of him. She moved on him begging with her body. He teased by holding her aloft until she gave a frustrated little scream and bucked hard against him. It sent them almost tumbling over. He held her against the shower wall and stuck his tongue into the miniature waterfall streaming from her nipple. Then he circled the perfect hardness of it causing her to flail at him with something near to crazed desperation.
“Just kidding,” he managed huskily. He sank into her. She tried to grab the shower
door frame to get a better purchase but her hands slipped. They landed on his shoulders and gripped mindlessly. Her hair came loose like a whip in his face as she lost control. Zack let her ride out her storm. He held her safe and planted his feet as best her could. Somehow he managed to control his body’s need to crest and focused on her wild ride. He gave her all the head she needed as she screamed into his shoulder and swam against him as if fighting a rip tide. “Take all you want, Baby.” He whispered into her ear. Her body shuddered with the taking. His heart shuddered because she was taking so much more than she knew.
He patted her with the towel while she kissed droplets off the hairs on his chest. She shivered not from cold but from having thrown off so much heat. She seemed a little tipsy yet it had been a while since she had the gin. Must be really tired, Zack thought. “Let’s chill on the sofa, watch some TV. Okay?” He thought it would help her sleep.
Mo pressed her face in his chest. “Yes, Officer Burnham.” She giggled. She felt like a girl. She had never been permitted to be just a girl. She had always worked. School. Practice. Perform. She had never just played and now she felt like she could play. And she liked her playmate more than she cared to admit. She slipped the boxers and T-shirt back on with a little help from her friend. He wrapped the towel around her head so ineffectually it unraveled immediately. She snapped it at him, Zack dodging with a laugh, and wrapped it herself.
He looked at her girlish face. Zack felt his heart caught on an anvil. He counted the years between them; six, almost seven. Not so bad, he rationalized. He threw on some sweats and a T-shirt. Not bad for what? This was a dream and wakeup call was a few days away. Zip it up Zack. Take it for what it is. Don’t screw up what time you have.
“We don’t have to watch this. Turn on a ballgame. I know you don’t want to watch this.” Mo curled up next to Zack who stroked her damp hair. He was watching her and couldn’t care less about what was on TV. He studied the thin line of her brow and the sharp sickle of her cheekbone. He gazed at the slight curve of her nose. The stung little puffs of her lips had always caused his heart to lurch. Her small chin was just a little pointed. His eyes followed the line of her long neck.
“I love Jane Austen.” He assured her. Well I can tolerate it. She nestled closer and he thought he could tolerate anything.
“She grabbed the remote and they struggled for it. She won by standing on the sofa and holding it high while he tried to pull her down by the boxers. She laughed and clicked. “Look! Look! Chicago White Sox at Toronto Blue Jays! She plopped down and handed him the remote. “I dare ya.”
“Game’s almost over. Watch what you want.” He didn’t want to take his eyes off her anyway.
No one had made her feel so free. It was as if a spigot had been turned on and her sexuality had poured forth unstoppably. He had opened something in her, yet she didn’t understand how she had she had been able to let herself go with him when gnawing little fears kept nipping at the edges of her delight in him. She wanted to give and give and take and take. But could she let go when the time came? They would go back to their own worlds. When she thought about it she felt as if she’d never fly free again. Suddenly the Dashwood girls are arguing in their subtle fashion. Zack hid the remote on the other side of him alongside the cushion.
She started to protest when he put his arms around her and caressed her breasts through the T-shirt while Kate Winslet’s Marianne runs through the field with her little sister, slipping and falling. Mo makes for the remote but he stops her with a chuckle. His hand gently touches the band of the boxers while Willoughby’s horse rears in fright. He slides his fingers under the waistband while the handsome horseman lifts Marianne into his arms. Mo slides her hand onto his and presses it firmly. She watches Mrs. Dashwood fret as a dripping Willoughby carries Marianne to the sofa. Mo feels his finger on the spot that makes her warm and wet. Zack plays there while lovely Marianne flubs ‘The Tempest’ and Willoughby takes up the quote and presents her with the sonnets. Eleanor Dashwood has sage advice, but Mo isn’t listening because she’s on Zack’s lap and he’s got other things besides being sensible in mind. She forgets the movie and the ballgame and is caught up in the sensations he’s causing. Her breath comes in quick puffs as he rewards her responses with devilish manipulations that have her murmuring encouragement. He’s learned quickly what makes her pant and thrash and he’s adding his own embellishments with great concentration. Marianne, unwatched now, races headlong toward heartbreak.
She stands up breathing hard so he can pull the boxers off and she turns and climbs on to his lap. Had he really turned this down? What had he been thinking? He momentarily forgot the reason. Mo takes him in hand and since he’s bursting against his boxers, frees him. She looks at him feverishly. His eyes burn with a fever of their own. She pushes her full lips down on his and loses all sensibility. She slides off of him and drags his shorts off. She has the look of a hungry animal. In his eyes she turns from some luminescent otherworldly being into a hauntingly visceral creature. Her hunger feeds his as they look into each other’s delirious eyes. He pulls the T-shirt up and off and wants her on his lap again. His mouth craves hers. He craves all of her.
She grabs his wrists as he reaches for her and puts his hands on her shoulders. Then she leans in to kiss the line of hair that runs down from his naval. She massages his thighs. Zack is consumed with the jolts of pleasure she gives him. He is reduced to insanity at the things she does with her tongue. He watches and caresses while she experiments. His breathe becomes more labored and he knows she’s going to drive him beyond the point of no return if he doesn’t… Just in time she climbs back onto him and takes him in. Their mouths crush each others as their bodies melt together.
Tuesday morning the Impressionist lovers lined up in a light rain with umbrellas in front of the Museum. Mo had art books in her apartment but she was not well schooled in the genre. Zack was no connoisseur but he’d seen the exhibit and knew what he liked. While he enjoyed the impressionists, the early moderns were more his style. He’d always wanted a good framed print of Hopper’s “Nighthawks. He liked Pollack. When they left the main exhibit he steered her toward that section of the museum. She liked the Hopper but told him clearly he could have the rest. She was all about Monet now that she’d seen the real deal. And Cassatt. Yeah, she definitely had to have a Cassatt. A print anyway. When they left the museum the rain had passed leaving behind a brilliantly clear day. They decided to have lunch on the beach and found themselves at Oat Street beach at the little outdoor café. It adjoined a souvenir stand selling hats, towels, bikinis and Chicago memorabilia.
“In Chicago there’s a law…” Zack held up the plastic mustard bottle. “No ketchup allowed on your hot dog. Not for a true Chicagoan.”
“That’s ridiculous. Everyone loves ketchup.” She’d had to ask for it specifically as there was none on the table. What do they do, lock you up or does the vendor carry a baseball bat?” She laughed. Her dog was packed. Like a true Chicagoan his had mustard, relish and onion. “What a beautiful day. You know the winds not bad today. I didn’t even bring a bathing suit to Chicago. I never thought I’d be on the beach.”
“Don’t you ever swim in the hotel pools?”
“I don’t usually. Either too many people to really swim or I get bothered too much.” She took a big bite.
“You want to hang out on the beach?” He pointed at the stand.
He’d tried to pay for the bikini but she wouldn’t let him. He’d been paying for food and cabs. She’d had slapped her card down while he was still trying to get his wallet out. Now she came out of the bathroom in a blue and white bikini and made his jaw drop. She wore the flip flops she’d bought. They were green as the stand had been out of blue. The Sox cap was black, grey and white. “I’m a real style buster, I know.” He laughed as she reached for the beach towel. It was graced with the Chicago skyline and said “Home Sweet Home.” Zack was glad he’d worn shorts and sandals. They walked to the water’s edge and dr
opped the towel, kicking off their shoes. Mo put a toe in the water while watching Zack’s muscled torso as he pulled off his pullover shirt. He waded in. He turned and reached for her. “Maybe just lay in the sun,” she decided.
By God she had him so hot with her wisps of hair blowing if he had to cool off she was going to cool off with him. In a few steps he swept her into his arms and carried her laughing and struggling into the surf. He dropped into the water with her as she shrieked. She broke away and splashed hard in revenge. He finally got her wrists and pulled her close. Her mouth opened as the warmth of his body soothed her shiver. His tongue warmed her all the way to her curling toes. Zack ran his hands down to her hips and pulled her close. “Uh.” Her body jerked a little. He’d hit the bruise.
“Sorry.” Mo accepted his apology with a press of her own tongue. She lured him deeper until he was totally lost in the kiss. He hadn’t cut his hair since he’d gone on leave to guard her. She ran her fingers through it, closing her eyes, losing herself as well.
They lay close on the beach towel. Maybe they should have gotten another but then it wouldn’t be as cozy, she thought. Zack had worried about her white, delicate looking skin. She assured him she wasn’t the burner he thought she might be. Her Native American blood seemed to help in that area. Which was a good thing, he thought, when he woke up red chested with stinging skin. He tended to burn even his already somewhat tanned skin.
“There, there,” Mo soothed as she rubbed lotion on him and looked at him in the bathroom mirror. “Must be the Irish.” They had just washed the sand completely off each other making sure to be as thorough as hands and lips and tongues could be. Zack had been sure she had some in deep places he explored rigorously and repeatedly using everything in his arsenal before he was satisfied she was sand free. He looked at her strong lovely body; well, one could never be too thorough. He’d better check one last time.
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