Steeling the Mood
by LoveSteele
jumpedoff@yahoo.com

(Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. I ain't makin' no money.
Copy my stuff and I'll assume you're a Xerox.)



4:59 pm
Friday
June 23, 1986

It's a typical day in Los Angeles. The morning started off
overcast and by the end of the day the temperature was
somewhere in the high 80s. Century City doesn't feel the heat
like downtown LA, and I dread leaving the office to head
inland.

I finish the last few forms from our previous case and file
it beside the many other success stories our filing cabinets
contain. Like it or not, the office is running out of room to
house the much needed paperwork, and the supply room is
almost full. Mr. Steele's office takes up half of our space, but
I don't think clients will be impressed by a room full of filing
cabinets. It seems like we're due for a new location.

I don't want to worry about that now, though, and grab my
purse on the way out the door.

"Good night, Mildred," I tell her as I pass her desk. "Have
a nice weekend."

"You too, Miss Holt," she answers, and I'm out the doors
heading for the elevators.

The wait is long and I'm stuck in the back of the line. Instead
of stuffing myself in with all the others, I decide to wait for
another few minutes.

"Miss Holt!" I hear from down the hall. Damn these elevators
anyway. "I thought I'd missed you," he says from down the
hall.

There goes an evening alone with a book and a long soak in
my tub. "Mr. Steele," I say as he runs up to me. Figures, the
elevator arrives just as he does.

"I was wondering what your plans were tonight," he says as
we step into the elevator.

"I was hoping to go home and relax," I tell him and hit the
button for the parking garage.

"I see," he says.

"You see what?" I ask in no mood for his games tonight. I
should have snuck out at four-thirty.

"Well... I just so happen to have a pair of tickets to the opening
gala at the Natural History Museum's new dinosaur exhibit. I
thought maybe you'd like to go?"

"And you waited until I was leaving to ask me because..."
Ugh, men.

"Because I just got ahold of them," he answers instantly,
making me feel guilty. "I only found out about the event this
morning and was unsure if I could still get tickets," he finishes
making me feel even worse.

"Ah." Well there's nothing to say to that, is there?

"We don't have to go if you're tired, Laura," he says as the
elevator stops at the garage. "We can do something else."

He can't be this dense, I think as I walk to my car. "Actually,
Mr. Steele, I'm beat. I was just going to pop a frozen dinner
in the oven and read a book."

"Frozen dinner?" he feigns shock. "On behalf of good taste
I can't let you eat that. Let me at least make you something
edible," he all but begs.

"Really, Mr. Steele-" I try to say but stop when I see the
determination written across his face. Fine. "Just dinner."

"Sure," he says but I can tell he's up to something more. It's
never just dinner. "Give me an hour," he says and kisses me
softly on the lips. "Don't worry about dressing up."

Is that his way of telling me to 'wear something comfortable'?
"Don't worry, Mr. Steele. Comfort is my key word tonight."
What the hell am I saying??

He looks amused. Does nothing faze the man? "Great," he
says and leans down to kiss me again. This time he doesn't
pull away, and before I can stop myself I feel my arms
encircling his neck. My brain ceases to process anything but
his hands on my hips and his warm lips on mine. What seems
like hours is in reality only a few seconds, and he pulls away
again. I can see he's affected as much as I am.

"See you soon," he whispers as he wipes his lips with a finger.
I'm sure he's wondering why I'd let him kiss me like that in a
parking garage of all places. I hope he doesn't think that
means I want anything more than dinner, because I don't.
Really.

************************************

6:00 pm
Laura's Loft

I've been ready for fifteen minutes. I changed clothes three
times and settled on a sweater and jeans. I don't understand
why I'm so nervous. It's not as if that was our first kiss. It
just seemed... different somehow. Believe it or not, he's usually
more reserved. He did nothing to hide his desire for me after
the kiss.

The Kiss.

I've named it. This is pathetic! I feel like I'm back in high
school! The buzzer sounds and my heart flip flops. I've got
to get it together.

He's smiling as I open the door. "Hi," he says, and I take
one of the grocery bags he's carrying. I smile back and he
closes the door behind us. "I wasn't sure what you had so
I stopped for a few things..."

A few things? These bags are filled to overflowing. "You
brought enough food to feed a small country, Mr. Steele."
Ohhh... he bought Filet Mignon.

"Well I'm sure you'll put the leftovers to good use," he
says as he inspects the bottom drawers in my refrigerator.
My mouth waters and I'm not sure if it's from the thought
of steak or from seeing his denim clad form bent over in
front of me. "Oh good," he says and straightens up. Damn.
He notices my glance and says "you have garlic. It's the
one thing I forgot."

I somehow doubt that. "What are you making?"

"Well," he says as he pulls the contents from the bags,
"as you can see we have asparagus, mushrooms, rice and
two filets. I thought you might be in the mood for steak,"
he finishes and my eyes feast over the food.

"If I wasn't before, I certainly am now," I tease. This
shoots my diet all to hell.

"Wonderful. Why don't you open the wine and relax for a
bit?" he asks and points to the wine. That's not what I
need to calm down, I think, but I do as I'm told and open
the wine.

The next hour passes in a blur. Remington putters around
my kitchen creating his gourmet feast while I relax on the
couch and watch the news. We're the picture of domestic
bliss, although slightly reversed. Lord knows I can't even
cook oatmeal right. He's true to his word, though, letting
me relax with only minimal discussion as I watch the
happenings of the day play out on channel four.

Before I know it dinner is ready. It smells wonderful and
looks even better. Remington is nothing but thorough and
brings me my plate on one of my t.v. trays. I don't even
have to get up to enjoy this meal. He brings his over and
we enjoy dinner in silence. By the time we're finished I'm
stuffed and ready for a long nap.

"Dinner as wonderful," I tell him as I settle back into the
couch. If he wasn't here I'd pop a button on my pants or
go change into some sweats.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he says with his usual smile.
"I like to impress you with my culinary skills," he jokes
and wiggles his eyebrows. "You know I can't stand what
you eat most of the time, Laura. I really wish you'd let me
teach you the finer points of cooking for one."

Yeah, right. I'm not capable of it, even if I don't want to
admit it to him. "Maybe someday," I say noncommittally.

"I'll take you up on that, Laura," he says and moves
closer to me on the couch. "Is there anything worth
watching?" he asks pointing to the television. I hand him
the remote and he flips through the channels. "You should
think about getting cable television," he says as he stops
on the Dodger's ball game. "Hmm... we should go to a
game sometime."

It's then that I notice it. He's fidgeting with the remote. In
the four years I've known him he's only done this when he's
really nervous. I knew he wanted more than dinner. Yet,
he's not doing anything besides watching the game. What's
he waiting for?

I try not to obsess about it and turn my attention to the
game. The Reds are up six to three, and the Dodgers just
walked the batter. Figures.

The next thing I know I'm leaning on his shoulder. My eyes
pop open and three innings have gone by. I can't believe I
fell asleep! Feeling stupid, I try to sit up but my neck aches.
I slept in the wrong position.

"You alright?" Remington asks, noticing my discomfort.

"My neck's a little stiff," I say trying to rub it.

"I was afraid of that. Here, turn sideways and I'll see what
I can do," he tells me and helps me turn around. Seconds
later his fingertips are caressing my shoulders and neck.
"Tell me if I rub too hard." He's not rubbing too hard,
though. It feels perfect.

"Good," he says.

Oh, did I say that out loud? I'm losing it fast. I should
kick him out while I still can, but this feels way too good.
His fingers move up my neck and caress my scalp. I'm
shocked at how good this is. A few more minutes of this
and I'll do whatever he wants...

"Is this okay?" he asks.

Can't he see I'm enjoying it?

"Mmm... it feels incredible," I manage to tell him as my
eyes slip shut.

"Good," he says again. I almost feel like I'm floating
as I enjoy his caresses. I don't even notice at first as he
gently kisses my neck. I'd normally jump out of my skin
if he did that, but since his fingers are still rubbing my
shoulders I simply accept it and try to enjoy myself. I can
barely sit still as his caresses cease and the only thing I
have to concentrate on are his lips as he moves to the other
side of my neck.

I can't decide if I'm too tired to stop him or too content to
shove him out my door, but once his arms encircle me I
know I am lost. Four years of trying to find an equal footing
are out the window. I don't want to think about what will
inevitably happen tomorrow. Instead I wrap my arms around
his and tilt my head to give him better access to my neck. I
moan, and his arms tighten around me in response. Just as
I'm contemplating whether or not he'll ever move his arms
from around my middle he moves one hand up toward my
breast.

In four years of dancing around the subject we've never
gotten this far. The reasons I've always stopped him or
he's stopped himself are conveniently absent, not that I'm
complaining. I can tell he's trying to be gentle, not to scare
or startle me. As if he could. His hand gently cups me,
softly squeezing my breast through my thin sweater. I want
to kiss him, but he's still softly kissing my neck, moving
from one side to another. Bless him for taking things slow...
but, I'm getting frustrated not being able to do anything
but sit here.

I pull forward, out of his embrace, and he quickly drops
his hands from my body. "I'm sorry," he says. He's not
looking me in the face, and I instantly regret being so
cold to him for so long. "I don't know why I did that,"
he tells me, looking anywhere but at me.

"No, don't be," I insist. He finally meets my eyes, and
his whole face lights up when he sees I'm not pushing him
away. "I just wanted to see you."

"Ah," he sighs, obvious relieved. "I was ready to leave..."

"Don't, please," I say as I move into his arms once again.
"You can stay if you'd like." I know he wants to stay, but
I figure he'll appreciate me giving him the option instead
of assuming things.

He holds me close to his chest, and I can feel his heart
pounding steadily. I love knowing I can make him feel
this way. "On one condition," he says, and I feel his chest
rumble as he speaks. "I get to make you breakfast in bed..."

Like he even needs to ask. "Hmm..." I feign contemplation.
"Okay."

I feel his muscles relax, and he squeezes me in appreciation.
"I don't want to make any mistakes, Laura, and I just
wanted to be sure. For you to be sure, I mean."

I pull back so I can see his eyes and say, "I am sure." Of
course I'm sure. I mean, I was sure earlier that this was just
dinner, but he hadn't touched me yet. Now I'm sure. Really.

I can tell he's about to say something, but I stop him, not
really wanting to talk anymore tonight. I've chastised him
about how we never talk, but tonight shouldn't be about
that. It's about us spending time together. He takes the
hint and smiles. I wonder if he thinks I'm out of my mind
or have finally come to my senses.

He kisses me again, just like he did in the parking garage.
This time I take the initiative and part my lips in invitation.
His warm tongue fills me, and he takes his time, teasing
my tongue as he explores my mouth. Tonsil hockey was
never this fun in high school...

Remington decides it would be easier if things were more
horizontal, and he pushes me back into the cushions. Thank
goodness I didn't get the love seat instead of the full sofa. I
fit comfortably, and with a little maneuvering, Remington
fits comfortably on top of me. He's careful not to settle his
full weight on top of me and braces himself on his forearms.
To his amazement I take the initiative and pull on his shirt,
forcing him to kiss me. He takes the hint and seals his mouth
to mine. I have just enough room to get my fingers on the
buttons of his shirt. As usual the first few are already undone,
and I finish the rest in no time.

I want to pause a moment to imagine what a sight we must
be... him covering my body, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned...
me with my fingers playing over his chest. <sigh> But, I get
no chance as it seems Remington wants to reciprocate my
actions, pulling my sweater up and over my head.

If I had known I would have worn something besides a plain
white bra, but he doesn't seem to mind. I feel myself flushing
as he lowers his gaze to my chest. This is what you do to me,
I want to tell him. I don't get a chance to, though, as he
unclasps my bra. At least I chose the front clasping model.
No doubt he is grateful.

He's not as smooth as he wants to be, and it takes a few
moments for his nervous fingers to function. When I think
he's going to take his sweet time to look me over he does
the opposite, pushing the material from my skin and zeroing
in on my left nipple. I can't help but cry out at the sensation,
wholly unprepared for anything this wonderful. His lips are
strong but gentle as he nips and licks and suckles at me. My
body arches into his, and I notice his arousal pressing into
my thigh.

My legs part instinctively and he settles between them,
rocking his hips into mine. Pleasure shoots from my core
to my fingertips. His mouth releases me and moves to my
other breast, his hand taking the place his mouth just vacated.
It's almost too much between the rocking of his hips and
his mouth on me. I haven't taken as much time as I should
to attend to my own needs lately, and I'm so close already.
I want this to last, though, so I reluctantly pull his mouth
away.

"Clothes," I gasp, and he takes the hint, sitting up on his
knees. I can see the evidence of his arousal pressing against
his jeans. Poor man... he must be dying in there. Before I
can give him a hand he's unbuttoning my pants. He
hesitates, fingers on my zipper and looks at me for reassurance.

"Do it," I tell him and he slides the pants down my legs. In
our haste we've forgotten our shoes, and my pants only get
as far as my ankles.

"This is always so much easier in the movies," he mumbles
as he removes my shoes. I try not to laugh as he seems SO
determined to make this easy for me. Yet, he notices my
attempts at smothering my laughter and drops his hands
in defeat. "Perhaps this would be easier if we had more
room, hmm?"

The idea of having him in my bed excites me even more, so
I hastily kick off my pants and grab his hand on the way to
my bed. I'm in my underwear with my bra hanging off my
shoulders, but do I care? Not at all... We climb the stairs
and here we are. He wastes no time removing my socks and
I shrug off the bra.

It's my fantasy come true as he's on his knees in front of
me about to remove that final barrier. He amazes me again
and gets right to it, pulling my panties down and tossing
them away. I guess four long years of waiting have eaten
away at his patience. He moves to where I want him the
most, parting my legs to give him more access. I feel his
warm breath against my center and then his fingers are
there, separating my slick folds. I don't have any support
here and have to brace my arms on his shoulders to keep
from falling over. I close my eyes to focus on his fingers and
lips and tongue. He gently slides a finger into me, coaxing
more wetness from my body. I shudder as his arm tongue
finds my swollen clit. He adds another finger and I'm lost
between the gentle motion of his hand and tongue.

I can't do anything but hold onto his shoulders and
concentrate on the sensations running through my body.
"I'm so close," I say to him and he hums his approval
against me. Seconds pass and all I know are his fingers as
they slide in and out of me and his mouth on the one part
that aches the most. I shudder and grasp his head, pushing
his face into me as I come. My legs finally turn to rubber,
and he's there to catch me as I collapse.

Minutes pass and I find myself nestled in his lap. He's
murmuring over and over how wonderful that was and how
beautiful I am. I lift my head from his shoulder to find him
smiling at me.

"Welcome back," he says.

I'm a little shy at the moment but smile back. His arms
fold around me as if he's in no rush to move things along.
He's still hard under his jeans, though, and I'm ready to
offer him a little help. I stand on wobbly knees, pulling him
up as I rise. It's finally my turn, and I grasp the top of his
jeans in a playful tug. His shirt falls to the floor and he
watches as I pop the button of his pants. He sighs in relief
as a I lower the zipper.

I don't get to do much exploring as he pulls me to the bed,
lowering me to rest above him. I'm still shakey from a few
minutes earlier but find the dexterity to move enough to strip
him of his pants and boxers. Part of me wishes he would
wear jeans more often, but the larger, more vocal part never
wants him to wear pants again.

His legs are long and slightly muscular, nothing like a
football player but perfect nontheless. In can he he's very
happy to have my attention, and my body warms at the
thought of what else we'll be doing tonight. He's absolutely
still as I take him in my hand. I think he's either telling
himself he's dreaming or trying not to scare me off. I can't
really blame him. It's taken us forever to get to this point.

I wrap my fingers around his hard length and he jumps
slightly at the touch. I can tell he's really struggling to
hold back. I have a feeling it's been years for him as it
has for me, and it's all he can do not to end things too
soon. Not that I'd complain, really. I mean, we have all
night... and I hope the rest of our lives. Still, I can tell
that he wants to be a gentleman and please me as best
he can. True to form he gasps and grabs my wrist, stopping
me from going any further. His eyes find mind and plead
with me to stop.

We both know it is time to do what we have struggled so
hard to get to. I'm surprised to find myself ready, but not
overly anxious. My stomach isn't tied in knots as it usually
is the first time I'm with someone new. I start to move off
his lap, onto my side, but he stops me.

"Laura," he says, and I know what's coming. This is where
he asks to be on top. It always the same. "Stay here."

I'm ready to move again when my hormone soaked brain
kicks in. "Stay?" I ask in surprise.

"Yes, of course," he says, smiling up at me the way he
does. "Unless this makes you uncomfortable..."

"No, this is fine," I tell him and relax atop his body. His
smile widens as his hands move to grasp my hips. This is
it, I think, and I move to straddle him. Something brief
flashes in my mind, like I'm forgetting something, but I
shake it away intent on having him inside me.

His hands steady me as I slowly take him inside my body.
He's letting me set the pace, and it takes me a while to
adjust to his size. It's only after my muscles relax that I
remember what I forgot, and I have this horrible urge to
slap my forhead.

Remington notices my discomfort immediately, but I'm
quick to show him that he's not hurting me. "We forgot
something," I say and move up his length. His hips buck
beneath mine, but the panicked look he wears tells me his
movements are involuntary.

I think he mumbles "shit," but I can't be sure. His teeth
are clenched and the little veins on his temples look about
ready to explode. "You're going to have to move, Laura,
because there is no way in hell I'm going to stop at this
point. Voluntarily."

He's assuming I have the mental capacity to disengage
at this point. Should I move? Is it safe? Why didn't I go
on the pill??? I'm mentally calculating my cycle and realize
this would be the best time for me to get pregnant. That
is, if I really wanted to. Maybe someday, but for now I
summon the courage to move off him and reach for the
drawer on my nightstand.

"Hurry," he says, not even bothering to ask me why I have
condoms in my nightstand. He'd be more surprised to find
the vibrator under my bed, but he doesn't need to know
about that now does he? I grab the box and tear off a foil
packet. Seconds later we're ready, and this time I don't
hesitate, settling myself atop him again.

It takes a few moments, but our bodies find the right rhythm
and we're finally moving together. I close my eyes,
overwhelmed at the feeling of him under me, in me, and
his hands move up to cup my breasts. Pleasure drives
straight to my center, and I cry out his name.

He must be pleased, I think as I open my eyes to see his
face filled with love and longing for me. His hands move
over me, gently stroking and squeezing in all the right
places. He's faltering though, and his hands fall back
to my hips. I'm close, but there's no way I'm going to
get there before him. I'm eager for his release, so I lean
forward to adjust the angle slightly. He seems to understand,
and I'm pleasantly surprised to feel my muscles tighten in
preparation for climax.

His body lifts mine from the bed with each thrust until
finally he stills under me as he finds his release. By some
miracle he starts to move again and allows me to find the
release I'm craving. He catches me as I collapse against
his chest. My bones feel like rubber, and I lazily think
that nothing's really resolved, but for the first time in my
life I feel complete and completely satisfied.

Before I can sleep, however, Remington gently reminds
me that he has a little cleaning up to do. I never thought
I'd see the day when he'd be in my bed looking for the
trash to dispose of a used condom. I'll have to speak with
my gynecologist this week about getting back on the pill.

He finds the trash can and disposes of the "evidence,"
then turns back and takes me in his arms. "I love you,"
he whispers as we snuggle under the covers.

"I love you, too," I tell him and find comfort in knowing
he'll be here for as long as I want him, which of course,
is forever.

The End

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