It was one of those days you were sure could not possibly be happening because it was too horrible to imagine. Every minute there was another catastrophe that had to be managed and another beat added itself to the tempo of her headache. Tylenol simply bounced off pain like this and even a quiet break away from it all in an alley for a quick cigarette proved useless.

Tessa Noel rarely smoked. She hated the smell on her clothing and the lingering taste in her mouth. But occasionally, under stress, she smoked. Today was so chaotic and complex that the nicotine did not even help. Most of the art shows she was involved with had better preparation. At this one she felt like a rope swinging loose in gale force winds, hanging on by one loose nail and fraying at the end.

�Where did he put it?� she said aloud to the musty room at the end of the day. She stood, frustrated, hands on her hips surveying the cramped storeroom of objects. �Count on someone to ask for this piece and I�ve NO idea where Duncan stored it. At least I have a few days to locate and ship it!�

She sorted through boxes and crates, puffs of dust rising as she worked and wooden lids clattering on the floor. Glasswork, tapestries, fabrics, clay sculptures, ironworks, paint � she mentally ran through the litany of mediums she had worked with over her years as an artist.

She found it buried with a host of other pieces and held it up midair, puzzling for a moment and trying to place it. A battered oil lamp with a long slender spout and dented handle. It was old and tarnished and looked of little value.

�What is this? I don�t remem---,� and she cut the word off in the middle, startled into silence and memory. �The lamp.�

She remembered the first time she saw this lamp, years ago. They were newly lovers then and her body was constantly on fire. Duncan was gentle and passionate, romancing her with looks and touches the entire length of the day until it was dark. Those long nights had been full of softness and sweetness and delight, lingering clear through the next day. Duncan�s slow seductions and smiles, the brush of his hand across her arm or waist, would keep her palms itching and her clothes too stifling until the blessed night fell again.

She came back from a show one frigid day and found the store empty. Duncan must have run out on an errand she surmised and thought nothing of it � until she entered the bedroom, already stripping off her silk shirt and jewelry. There was a lamp sitting in the middle of the bed and it was the only thing out of place in the room. She picked it up, turning it over automatically to see the inscription on the bottom to identify the maker --- there was none.

What an odd thing, she thought. Why was it here in the middle of her bed?

She had not heard him at all. She never did. Duncan MacLeod moved with such ease and grace that he never made a sound. He simply appeared at will. This time, he was in the shadows near the door of the room, arms folded across his chest and his long ebony locks combed down and loose. She simply looked up and drew in her breath, startled at the magnificent man who looked alertly back at her without moving.

What do you say to such beauty in a man? Do you talk about the proud eyes that carry such laughter and sorrow and danger? Maybe the strong jawline, the fullness of the lips and the hair that hangs like a cloak of velvet.

His chest was sprinkled with soft hair and the muscles shifted and moved like rippling water below the tawny skin. Even with him standing immobile, her mind played the song of his body as if seeing it in motion. The strength was evident in the powerful forearms and shoulders exposed in the sleeveless vest he wore.

�You asked for a genie,� he said quietly. �I�m here.�

�Genie?� she faltered, momentarily at a loss.

�The lamp,� he nodded his head at the brass object forgotten in her hands, �you picked it up. I�m here.�

Tessa did not know what to say.

�What do you want?� Duncan asked, the light in the room illuminating one small spot in his eyes.

�Surprise me,� she replied, smiling.

He stripped very slowly and languidly. It was not exactly a tease because there were no exaggerated motions, no dramatic flinging of garments or extraneous movements. Still, his methodical disrobing started to unfasten the hinge pins in the bottom of her mind and passion trickled through her spirit with quick light fingers.

The width of his back, the depth of his chest, the round high buttocks that were perfect for swatting or gripping or just holding were slowly unwrapped for her. Every part of him was flawless and created with a master�s touch. When he was nude, he faced her and his eyes were dilated and his body aroused. He was stunning to look upon � and she did, in total silence. He stood under her scrutiny for a long moment.

And then he danced.

Danced, she remembered with a rush of impressions, danced by himself to some exotic music that only he could hear. Swaying and bending and reaching, arms winding through silken hangings that only the imagination could see, turning on the balls of his feet as if he skated on glass. The muscles bunched and elongated throughout his frame, defining under the exercise and the sunset through the venetian blind patterned beautifully across his skin. The combination of his flowing motions with the stalwart body and high erection was splendid. He was powerful and erotic and radiated sensuality as if some magnificent animal.

When he finished the slow gliding ballet, Duncan came and simply knelt at her feet, his hands on his thighs framing the erect penis, and looked up at her.

Tessa could not, and did not, resist the allure of this quiescent male so submissively posed before her. She bent and twined her fingers around and around the dark locks, drawing the proud face up, his mouth instinctively opening for the kiss � and she merely traced his lips with her tongue and flicked quickly in his mouth for the briefest taste before pulling away. He quivered all over, shuddering under the pounding desire.

She fingered the long line of his jaw, smoothed her hands down his neck and across the sweep of his shoulders. He remained head back and hands on his thighs, posture obedient to her will. It heightened her arousal in a way she could not comprehend. She traced the veins running down the anterior of his forearm and watched the blood flee ahead of her fingertip. She skated her palms down the flat belly, following the trickle of hair and stroked his penis softly � he was helpless against the groan that escaped or the bob of his erection in answer to her touch.

She traced around the circumcised head and stroked the rim of the glans, watching the wildness rise in his dark eyes and the flattening of his lips in control. She explored his maleness: the major veins lining the shaft, the tender scrotum, prodding fingertips into every nook of his body and revealing all of its secrets. He groaned and sighed a few times at the gentle search of her fingers, but yielded unresisting.

For a long time, she toyed with him, using every technique she had ever yearned to practice with a willing partner. He was beginning to pant and his fingers dug into his thighs as she handled him. But he never said a word � never asked a thing of her, merely subjected himself to her whim.

It wasn�t until she recognized the sweat dimpling his chest and temples and the short, tight spasmodic thrusts running through his hips that she realized Duncan was going to let her simply manipulate him clear over the edge -- without even asking to have her. Without claiming his right to her body in their relationship as lovers - the thought stunned her and she stopped what she was doing to him. He gasped and leaned his forehead against her, trembling at the edge of release.

�Duncan,� she breathed his name. �Why?�

�The lamp.� He could barely speak, his voice was dark with desire. �The genie obeys the master of the lamp.�

�Ahh, come to bed, beloved,� she whispered.

He could not rise to his feet after kneeling for so long, she had to help him. Misery, short-lived beneath the gift of immortality, stole through his face and was gone. She stripped and drew him after her atop the plush coverlet, tossing pillows erratically out of the way until they had the bed to themselves. He made as if to lie beside her, but she tugged at the wide shoulders and arched a heel around his legs.

�Tess,� he murmured in her hair, voice husky, �I can�t � I don�t have the control to-.�

�Obey,� she firmly said and pulled him over her.

There wasn�t any pain. She knew there wouldn�t be. She moved to meet him by instinct and he penetrated deeply on the first stroke, crying a single word aloud, desperately, longingly.

Her name. It was the most wonderful thing she had ever heard.

From there it was only clinging to his damp shoulders as he moved, clutching tightly across the buttocks, feeling the groan of pleasure resonate through his chest and watching the catch of his lips in his teeth as he rose to the climax. He pistoned hard, leveraging depth by cupping her buttocks and spreading them, lost completely in the passion. The moans went to groans and then cries aloud as he entered into pleasure, thrusting deeply and barely withdrawing through the orgasm.

He spoke her name aloud when he reoriented and propped his weight on his elbows to regard her. �I didn�t do a good job being a genie this time.�

�How many times have you been a genie, Duncan?� she asked, curious and mildly amused at his chagrined expression.

He thought for a moment, eyes quizzical. �Just this once.�

�Hmmm.� She fairly purred, raising her lips to his. �Practice. You have to practice with magic lamps or they don�t work.�

Tessa blinked and the musty storeroom spun back into focus. How long had she been standing here? She still held the lamp, carelessly dangling it from two fingers while she was caught up in memory. She closed the boxes and straightened the room before clicking off the light. The room winked back into darkness behind the closing door.

But the lamp went with her. She rubbed off the dust with a dishcloth and studied the dim reflection of herself before putting it on the floor in the middle of the showroom. Then she took a hot bath and bound up her hair. It took her a few minutes to light the myriad candles around the room.

In the silence, she heard his footsteps and the lock tumble as it was keyed. The soft thump of his duffel hitting the floor in it�s customary place, the slap of his wallet next � and hanging up his coat. All his familiar routines played themselves out without skipping a single beat.

But then the noises ceased abruptly and the jangle of pocket change halted. Tessa, in the bedroom by herself, smiled. It would take a few minutes she decided, but she had handled the lamp. A genie was certain to appear, granting wishes and bringing surprises with him. She knew just what she wanted this time � and she suspected that he had practiced a lot in the last ten years.

MacNair 10/25/00

�Duncan�s version� done by request of the Clan CDC. (bad girls! Bad wikkid girls!)

Author�s note. I was surprised at the rendition here told by �DuncanMuse�. I had the vision of Duncan as a man totally in control (having had lots of practice in nearly 400 years!) as a lover. It dawned on me when the story line digressed from how �I thought it should be� to what DuncanM �determined it was� that Duncan was with the love of his life. Something in his soul recognized Tessa Noel, even if he did not at the beginning of their relationship. It was no wonder that she had the power to undo all of his reserves when he had given her, subconsciously, the key to his heart.

As always, thank you to my faithful Beta reader Sharz!

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