XXX Steele
by LoveSteele
2000
(Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Remington Steele
nor intend
to make a profit from this fanfic in any way that involves money.
Please
don't take this story too seriously folks, it's just FIC! BTW,
you copy it as
your own, you buy my right foot including the Harley Davidson
boot that'll
be up your ---.)
*****************
"Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh-" *click* Remington sighed to
himself and threw the
remote across his living room. Two weeks ago his cable company
had
mysteriously started showing the Triple XXX Channel, and he was
quickly
becoming addicted to it. Not to mention quickly becoming disgusted
by the
whole thing...
No, no, no... it wasn't that. He didn't have anything against
the idea of
finding a little pleasure and relief from a porno flick. It was
the idea
that he HAD to find his pleasure and relief from a porno flick
that bothered
him. He figured that years of celibacy were solely for monks,
priests and
the dating inept.
He didn't figure into any of those categories. In fact, he
had a rather
promising future ahead of him in the dating area if Laura ever
agreed to
anything more than above-the-neck-not-above-the-knee
groping/kissing/petting.
Okay, so that sounds ridiculously pathetic, but what could
he do? He could
count the number of times on his digits that he had become slightly
intimate
with Laura. IF he was lucky, he got to kiss her a few times a
week. If he
was BLESSED, the kiss was openmouthed.
He wasn't that blessed.
So, back to the Triple XXX Channel. For some reason it was
situated between
HBO and Cinemax. Go figure. Still, he wasn't hard pressed, so
to speak,
about calling the cable company to complain. After all, he'd found
something to distract him for the past couple of weeks while Laura
was otherwise
occupied with moving her mom from Connecticut to California.
He expected her to kill her mother or jump off a building sometime
by the
next weekend.
Anyway, at least HE wasn't stressed about anything... lately.
Picturing
Laura as the buxom woman onscreen wasn't difficult, and it took
little for
him to envision himself in the role of the well-endowed male lead.
Okay,
okay, so he wasn't THAT well endowed, and Laura could use some
help in the
upper area, but he still managed make himself come in record speed.
Well, that and the fact that one of the actresses did happen
to look a
little like Laura... right down to the long brown hair and freckles.
Unfortunately, the movie on at the moment featured a blond
with way-too-big
breasts and some redheaded man who insisted on screaming "Yeah,
baby, Yeah
baby fuck-me-hard, fuck-me-hardhardhardhardhardhard..."
How inspiring. He'd caught the tail end of his new favorite
movie but was now
left with an impressive erection and no faux Laura to be found.
If she could
only see him now, sweaty, pants around his knees, hand holding
himself as he
tried to get that awful male actor out of his head...
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Laura talking to him,
talking him
through this. She'd be patient and kind, telling him what he did
to her was
wonderful, why she never wanted him to stop, how good he was making
her
feel...
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
He clutched himself out of shock, stopping his imminent climax.
"Oh bloody
hell..."
"Who is it!" he bellowed as he desperately tucked
and zipped, mindful to not
catch himself in the zipper.
"It's me," Laura called from the other side of the door. "Can I come in?"
Was it him or did Laura sound completely desperate???
"Coming," he said before he could stop himself. Not hardly...
"Hi," he said as he opened the door to a disheveled
Laura. "Is something
wrong, Laura?"
"Everything!" she said and stormed into his apartment.
"First my mother
insists on antagonizing the movers. Then she forces Francis and
I to help
her decorate. She then goes on to insist that she needs to add
a pool and a
hot tub! THEN- " Laura stopped mid-sentence. "What's
going on here?" she
asked, eyes scanning Remington up and down.
He was still partially hidden behind the door.
"Um... nothing, Laura. I was just watching some television.
You know,
Bogart marathon..." he trailed off, displeased that she was
obviously not
buying any of it.
"Did I interrupt something?" she asked and looked
directly south of his
waist.
Remington stood frozen behind the door.
"I'm sorry, I should have called," she said and started
to walk back out the
door.
"Laura, wait," he said and tugged her back into his
apartment. "It's okay,
really. You just caught me at a particularly embarrassing moment
and I-"
"No need to explain, Mr. Steele," Laura said and
held her hand up to him in
emphasis. "It's perfectly natural. I'm sorry I interrupted
you," she tried
again to leave, cheeks flaming red.
Damn, now he'd completely embarrassed her as well.
"You're here, Laura, and obviously upset, so you might
as well stay," he
said, closing the door in a motion of finality. "I'll go
make us some tea."
He walked into the kitchen to make the tea, chastising himself
for being so
stupid. If she wasn't thoroughly disgusted with him yet, she would
obviously be now. Setting the kettle on the stove, he was glad
to hear the
television come to life as Laura attempted to distract herself
from her
thoughts... oh *SHIT*
"Yeah baby Yeah baby. Come for ME!!!"
OhshitOhshitOhshit.
The television clicked off, and Remington was left with the
kind of
god-awful silence most associated with funeral and IRS audits.
As he
expected, Laura popped her head into the kitchen.
"I think I'm going to head home, Mr. Steele. See you tomorrow,"
she
squeaked and was out the door before Remington could peel his
hands off the
counter top.