Spoilers: Let's say ten months after "Need to Know" but without the NCIS trial or the trip to Paraguay. Not really adhering to JAG canon, but it's for a good cause.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: *I* don't even claim it.
Summary: Back from Suriname, Webb plays at hacking into the JAG messaging system. Finding Mac on-line is more than enough to relieve his boredom. Has interfacing ever been this combustible?
Author's Note: Exiled on a 10-day work assignment with only my imagination and several yellow legal pads, the steady torture of doing my day job was brutal. During my down-time, the withdrawal got to be too much. Thus, from the button-down mind of a deprived Webbite, I give you "The Dell Connection."
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LUNCHTIME
AUGUST 20, 2003
NSA OPS
FORT MEADE, MARYLAND
The cramped offices of the National Security Agency were starting to close in on him. You had to be a pretty low man on the CIA totem pole to be loaned out to the NSA during peak terrorist season; either that, or number one on the DCI's blackball list. Unfortunately, after the Angel Shark incident, Clayton Webb happened fit both categories.
Following his uneventful exile to Suriname, Clay had returned to Langley only to be immediately loaned out to the NSA. Although he had earned his cryptanalyst certification back in '90 at Fort Meade's National Cryptography School, and had even been making great strides in the GS-ranks of the agency, the ciphers and crypto work had never truly held his interest.
Even during the Gulf War, Clay's crypto background had relegated him to the Adjutant General's information office instead of the front lines, again preventing him from experiencing the action and adventure he craved. As a result, when Tim Fawkes had finally noticed that his highly analytical mind was backed up by a natural athletic prowess, recruiting him as a field agent had been almost too easy.
He had never regretted his jump to the Company until he was sent down to that hellhole referred to as Paramaribo, Suriname. The boredom of that assignment was his penance for disregarding a direct order from the CIA Director. Although Clay didn't regret his decision to reveal the videotape to the families of the fallen seamen, he had begun to consider retirement from the Company as a very real possibility.
Getting up from his high-backed leather chair, Clay stretched the kinks out of his back and tucked the green polo shirt back into his khaki slacks. That was another thing he disliked about these crypto-geeks: too damned informal. He'd tried to wear his three-piece suits to this office, but with everyone else calling their own hours and dressing like football coaches, it was impossible not to follow their example without bringing undue attention to himself.
Already he was garnering the dislike and ostracism of the department. So what if he was quicker and more prolific at the job than anyone else? He wasn't going to apologize for completing this TDY to the best of his ability, damnit. He'd already turned down two offers from the DNS himself to make this a permanent switch. Clay just couldn't imagine serving out the rest of his years as a crypto-jockey, even if his keen mind revealed an aptitude for it.
The old man must have contacted the DCI after the last offer, because just yesterday he'd received orders back to Langley at the end of the month. Watts was just contrary enough to want him back only because he'd proved himself invaluable to another agency. Hell, he honestly didn't care about the reason as long as he was back in the thick of things as a field agent again.
Walking out to the ever-present buffet table, Clay poured a cup of rich coffee from the silver urn and began to nibble on the mouth-watering delicacies spread out before him. If for no other reason, he needed to get back into the field before he got totally addicted to these daily spreads. Had it not been for his morning runs and weekend workouts, he surely would have gained a massive spare tire by now. Evidently the brainpower of the NSA was fueled by one of the best round-the-clock caterers the United States government could offer.
Wandering back to his temporary office, Clay set down his cup and saucer to surf the net. Days ago he had discovered a back door into most of the government's wide access carriers. With the mask of the NSA's binary system he could inconspicuously monitor the correspondence of any branch of the government. Leaning his head against the back of his chair, Clay considered, then dismissed the wicked plan flitting through his mind. But it could work; and it would be highly amusing. It would certainly relieve his boredom.
Resolved to giving his plan a shot, Clay packed up his briefcase and headed home. This was definitely a private operation that he didn't want the tracked by the NSA's computers.
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LUNCHTIME
AUGUST 20, 2003
JAG OPS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
"Harm, just get out of my office," Mac wearily told the man leaning on her desk.
"C'mon, Mac. At least consider it." Harm flashed the boyish grin that was starting to look a bit foolish on a forty-year-old man.
Startled by this stray thought, Mac nearly giggled out loud. Looking at him from behind her new reading glasses, Mac suddenly realized how much older her best friend had started looking lately. Not that the slightly receding hairline and laugh lines weren't attractive; they were. It was just that for someone who looked so distinguished, Harm had the emotional fortitude of a twelve-year-old. It was just a bit ridiculous when she felt more mature and emotionally secure than a man renowned for his skills in the courtroom and with the opposite sex.
"Harm," she explained, not unkindly, "I have no desire to go up in a plane with you. Also, I'm a little too old to play hooky from my job. And if you haven't already noticed, so are you. Contrary to your belief, the Admiral *would* notice. Why not just wait `til the weekend? Maybe by then you will have found some sweet thing that really wants to go up in that death trap with you."
"Aw, Mac! The fun is in getting away with it!" Again the killer smile lit up his face, but Mac was not impressed. She was presiding over four cases this week and she'd yet to make a dent in the paperwork. That, plus her duties as Chief of Staff, left her little time for being Harm's co-conspirator these days. In fact, she wasn't even tempted.
"Ask Sturgis, I'm just too busy right now," Mac sighed, placing yet another folder on the corner of her desk.
"Maybe some other time, then?" he asked hopefully.
Pushing her hair behind one ear and adjusting the rimless glasses higher on her nose, Mac decided to be honest: "Probably not, but thanks for asking."
Down, but not defeated, Harm left her office, leaving her door slightly ajar. Mac couldn't help but snicker when she heard him hail Sturgis across the bullpen. Relieved he'd found a buddy to play with, Mac removed her reading glasses and massaged her temples. Surely she couldn't be as old as she'd been feeling lately.
She'd have to IM Harriet later on for some reassurance. Either that or find a man who could satisfy her more mature desires. A sinful smile crossed Mac's lips as she considered the types of activities she wouldn't mind indulging in this afternoon; not a single one had anything to do with a juvenile Navy Commander and his flying machines.
More than a little disturbed by her lascivious thoughts, Mac decided to go ahead and log on with Harriet.
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2PM (EST)
CLAYTON WEBB'S TOWNHOUSE
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
Clay plugged in the power cord of his Dell Latitude notebook and booted up the system. One of his latest techno-indulgences, this sleek silver computer was more powerful than any PC Clay had previously owned. Purchased for its powerhouse capabilities and light weight, it was quickly proving its worth by allowing him to kick back on the couch with a cold bottle of IBC root beer while he hacked into the JAG computer system.
Within a matter of moments he was in and temporarily disabling the intruder-alert controls. Scrolling towards the system he was targeting, Clay was diverted by a familiar log-on name. Scrapping his plans to play mind-games with Rabb, Clay waited to see who she was contacting. He quickly had his answer:
MARJAGSMACK: Harriet, you there?
MARJAGSMACK: Harriet?
NAVYJAGHSIMS: Right here, ma'am.
MARJAGSMACK: Busy or can you talk for a bit?
NAVYJAGHSIMS: Sure�I just put down Jen and AJ's still at pre-school.
MARJAGSMACK: How is Jen?
NAVYJAGHSIMS: Still nursing, ouch! Luckily, she's a good baby. Sleeps on cue, LOL!
MARJAGSMACK: Aw, that's wonderful. We still on for shopping Saturday afternoon?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feeling a tad guilty for "eavesdropping," Clay decided to log off and shut down his computer. Playing a joke on Harm would have been some risk-free fun; invoking the wrath of Mac and Harriet Sims was just downright stupid. Before he could act on his decision, their next exchange grabbed his attention:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NAVYJAGHSIMS: YES!! Can't wait to get out with the adults. How're you?
MARJAGSMACK: Strange.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hello! What was this? Sarah MacKenzie was feeling strange? All good intentions and remnants of guilt fled his conscience at this interesting revelation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NAVYJAGHSIMS: Ma'am?
MARJAGSMACK: Feeling old, I guess.
NAVYJAGHSIMS: Oh, sorry about the "ma'am"---forgot. Oops. :)
MARJAGSMACK: Oh! No, not your fault. Just feeling ancient today. :
(
NAVYJAGHSIMS: What's Harm done now???
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Well, that figured. Harmon Rabb could try the patience of a saint. And just picturing how Mac had looked the last time he'd seen her, Clay was hoping there was nothing saintly about the fit-as-a-fiddle Marine. Perking up at the picture in his mind's eye, Clay paid closer attention to the exchange.
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MARJAGSMACK: Same old juvenile stuff. I feel like his den mother most of the time.
NAVYJAGHSIMS: Well, then, find yourself a mature man and get it on! :D
MARJAGSMACK: Harriet!
NAVYJAGHSIMS: Why not?
MARJAGSMACK: Because I had to get reading glasses last week.
NAVYJAGHSIMS: Huh???
MARJAGSMACK: It's the first significant sign of aging.
NAVYJAGHSIMS: You are NOT getting old. You know you look fantastic!
MARJAGSMACK: Right.
NAVYJAGHSIMS: I'm not kidding---you just need to get out there and have some fun with a REAL man.
MARJAGSMACK: Oh, sure. All the REAL men are taken.
NAVYJAGHSIMS: Not true! What about�
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Clay was sorely tempted to type in his own name, but was curious as to who Harriet would consider a worthy match for Mac.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
MARJAGSMACK: You can't think of anyone either!
NAVYJAGHSIMS: No, I've just been on maternity leave so long now that no one comes to mind.
MARJAGSMACK: I rest my case.
NAVYJAGHSIMS: Well, not trying to beat a dead horse and all that, but what would you do with one if you could find him?
MARJAGSMACK: This dead horse still has a few moves she'd like to try out.
NAVYJAGHSIMS: Oh, ma'am, you know I didn't mean that the way it sounded�
MARJAGSMACK: I know. Told you I was in a strange mood today.
NAVYJAGHSIMS: Don't worry ma'am, I'm sure somebody'll come along.
MARJAGSMACK: Right. Well, thanks Harriet. See you Saturday.
NAVYJAGHSIMS: But ma'am---I can't leave you in this mood.
MARJAGSMACK: I'm fine---honest. But according to my internal clock, it should be time to pick up AJ.
NAVYJAGHSIMS: Ohmigosh, you're right! Bye---and call me later.
MARJAGSMACK: Sure. Be careful. Bye!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Without even considering a plan, Clay started typing before Mac could log off. He couldn't stand the depressive note to her responses. Even if it was at his own expense, Clay was determined to cheer her up---and put his name into the equation. A woman as sexy and intelligent as Mac should never have to settle for the childish antics of men like Rabb. If she was up to handling a real man, he was ready to apply himself to satisfying her demands.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SMACKMAN: Hey! Don't sign off yet!
MARJAGSMACK: Who the hell are you?
SMACKMAN: Who do you think, Sarah?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Her pause was so long that Clay was certain she'd logged off. Hoping she was just as curious as he was, Clay decided to pull her in by giving out some hints.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SMACKMAN: Let me put it like this, Sarah---I would never confuse you with my Mother.
MARJAGSMACK: What?
SMACKMAN: One look into those chocolate brown eyes, one touch of those full pink lips to mine�
MARJAGSMACK: How do you know the color of my eyes?
SMACKMAN: I've gazed into those beautiful brown eyes many times over the years, wondering what they would look like if I ever got the chance to show you what real loving felt like�
MARJAGSMACK: WHO ARE YOU????
SMACKMAN: I've inhaled the scent of lemons in your soft brown hair and wondered how it would feel if I could sift my fingers through it while I pleasured you endlessly�I'm the man you've trusted with your life even when you weren't sure that you should.
MARJAGSMACK: Tell me who you are NOW!
SMACKMAN: Sorry, that's classified.
MARJAGSMACK: Webb? I'm going to take you down for this!
SMACKMAN: Damn, Sarah. I'd much rather go down on you�swirl my tongue around you�sip from your core until my own need overflows into yours�
MARJAGSMACK: Clay? Is that you?
SMACKMAN: That's a need to know issue, Sarah. Do you need to know?
MARJAGSMACK: I think I do.
SMACKMAN: Are you sure? You don't sound sure.
MARJAGSMACK: How do I know it's really you?
SMACKMAN: Easy. Ask me a question only I could answer.
MARJAGSMACK: How did you save me from that man in the Afghani prison
camp?
SMACKMAN: I didn't. You did it all by yourself, Marine. All I did was give you enough time and a nod.
MARJAGSMACK: It IS you. I thought you were still banished somewhere in Surname.
SMACKMAN: Got back two weeks ago.
MARJAGSMACK: Nice of you to let us know.
SMACKMAN: Didn't think you'd care.
MARJAGSMACK: Aw, Clay, of course we care.
SMACKMAN: Who's "we"?
MARJAGSMACK: Well, I care. We're friends.
SMACKMAN: I'd like to think so. By the way, I missed you.
MARJAGSMACK: That's sweet. I bet they're a lot of people you missed.
SMACKMAN: Nope, not really. But I definitely I missed you.
MARJAGSMACK: What? No one to aggravate down there?
SMACKMAN: Why? Do I bother you as much as you bother me?
MARJAGSMACK: Webb, are you all right?
SMACKMAN: Never better. Maybe a bit bored.
MARJAGSMACK: Oh, I guess that explains it.
SMACKMAN: Want to spice up my life?
MARJAGSMACK: I'm too bland for the job. Thanks, anyway.
SMACKMAN: Bland? You put the hot in tamale and the jalapeno in my pepper. With your sage experience and explosive zest, you could be the thyme of my life.
MARJAGSMACK: Very funny.
SMACKMAN: I meant it.
MARJAGSMACK: You did?
SMACKMAN: Absolutely.
MARJAGSMACK: This is some sort of setup, isn't it? How many agents are sitting there laughing with you, asshole?
SMACKMAN: None---this is a personal mission. Just you and me.
MARJAGSMACK: Really? Why me, all of a sudden?
SMACKMAN: You really want to know? I'm warning you right now that I've been isolated for so long that I'm going to be brutally honest here. No holds barred.
MARJAGSMACK: Oh, yeah? Dare to be honest, Webb.
SMACKMAN: I've wanted you with me for a long time, Sarah. With me, on me, under me, around me, stroking me, coming for me, screaming, purring, demanding, panting, giving, taking, sharing�the real thing. No substitutes. How's that for honesty?
SMACKMAN: You still there, Sarah?
MARJAGSMACK: Yeah.
SMACKMAN: And?
MARJAGSMACK: And what?
SMACKMAN: I guess I need to log off. Sounds like you're not interested. Sorry for bothering you, Colonel.
MARJAGSMACK: No, wait!
SMACKMAN: Why? This new age of openness is starting to feel like a one-way street.
MARJAGSMACK: It's just a surprise---I'm trying to take it all in. Do you really feel that way about me?
SMACKMAN: Yes.
MARJAGSMACK: I can't believe it.
SMACKMAN: Well, so much for honesty.
MARJAGSMACK: You can't just expect me to believe that you're interested in someone like me---out of the blue like that?
SMACKMAN: Oh, of course not. Why should I be interested in a strong, intelligent, caring, sexy, independent woman? Sounds ludicrous now that you mention it.
MARJAGSMACK: You think I'm intelligent AND sexy? I'm not so young anymore, you know.
SMACKMAN: My, how you've aged in ten months! Practically ancient. Wonder what that makes me since I've got seven years on you?
MARJAGSMACK: Six feet under?
SMACKMAN: Sure has felt that way lately.
MARJAGSMACK: I've seen you out of the three-piece uniform---so no way! You're cute, Webb: boyishly handsome.
SMACKMAN: I'm no boy, Sarah. And what I feel for you has nothing to do with good deeds and merit badges.
MARJAGSMACK: Oh, really?
SMACKMAN: I want to be very clear. I'm an experienced man with adult desires. I want a mature woman who could share those desires.
MARJAGSMACK: What kind of desires?
SMACKMAN: The usual: home, family, and mad, passionate sex. Not necessarily in that order.
MARJAGSMACK: Oh, you mean the semper fi kind.
SMACKMAN: There is no other kind for me these days. I've had my share of women. Had my share of disappointments. I'd rather be alone than settle for anything less than what I really need.
MARJAGSMACK: What's that?
SMACKMAN: You. That's as honest as I can get.
SMACKMAN: Sarah? Scared you off didn't I?
MARJAGSMACK: I don't know what to say.
SMACKMAN: Well, we're either on the same page or we're not. After knowing me for seven years, you know that I'll bow out gracefully if you don't feel the same way.
MARJAGSMACK: I don't know how I feel.
SMACKMAN: Take a minute and figure it out, please. This means a lot to me.
MARJAGSMACK: Webb?
MARJAGSMACK: Clay, you still there?
SMACKMAN: Yes.
MARJAGSMACK: Let's ease into it okay? I'm on the same page, but I'm a careful reader.
SMACKMAN: Really? Not just stringing along the lonely spook?
MARJAGSMACK: Lonely? Yeah, right. Tell me another one.
SMACKMAN: It's only too true.
MARJAGSMACK: I've never known you to lack female companionship.
SMACKMAN: Name one.
MARJAGSMACK: Name one what?
SMACKMAN: One of my female companions.
MARJAGSMACK: Your Mother?
SMACKMAN: Ha. Ha. Bye Mac!
MARJAGSMACK: Wait! WAIT! Just kidding---what about the bevy of bimbos in Australia?
SMACKMAN: Work-related.
MARJAGSMACK: How about the blonde at the MCAPS reception last summer?
SMACKMAN: Gold-digger.
MARJAGSMACK: The redhead at the SECNAV's Halloween Party?
SMACKMAN: Childhood friend.
MARJAGSMACK: That one could go somewhere, though.
SMACKMAN: Married my college roommate. Made me a godfather last
month.
MARJAGSMACK: Oh, bummer. Sorry.
SMACKMAN: Nah, she's more like a kid sister. You don't seriously date your kid sister.
MARJAGSMACK: Tell me about it.
SMACKMAN: Rabb?
MARJAGSMACK: Who else?
SMACKMAN: Give him a lollipop and send him on his way.
MARJAGSMACK: Those walking papers were signed, sealed, and delivered---months ago.
SMACKMAN: Can't shake him?
MARJAGSMACK: You ever tried to tell him something when he wasn't ready to hear it?
SMACKMAN: Point taken. What about the other men in your life?
MARJAGSMACK: What other men?
SMACKMAN: The ones salivating over your luscious body and sexy mind.
MARJAGSMACK: Oh, right.
SMACKMAN: The ones so sure of your rejection that they're reduced to hacking into your private conversations to reveal that you're their secret fantasy.
MARJAGSMACK: I'm your secret fantasy?
SMACKMAN: Got a problem with that?
MARJAGSMACK: Only if you're playing mind games.
SMACKMAN: Well, every game I play with you is in my mind---but that's out of necessity.
MARJAGSMACK: How so?
SMACKMAN: Honestly?
MARJAGSMACK: Yes!
SMACKMAN: Sure you can take it?
MARJAGSMACK: Just get on with it!
SMACKMAN: It's just that I wasn't kidding earlier. The kinds of games I've had in mind involve you, me, and any available flat surface.
MARJAGSMACK: How very mature of you Webb.
SMACKMAN: Yes, extremely mature. Adults only. I'm far too old to crave just anyone these days. I want an equal. Someone who can back me up in a tight spot as well as enjoying one. Someone I can respect but is not afraid to be a bit adventurous. Someone who'll scream at me not just in exasperation, but in absolute ecstasy as I bring her to the edge time and time again.
MARJAGSMACK: That's a tall order. Have someone in mind?
SMACKMAN: Only one woman, if she's interested.
MARJAGSMACK: God, Clay, if you're playing me�
SMACKMAN: Like a finely tuned instrument.
MARJAGSMACK: Okay, tell me more, maestro.
SMACKMAN: Sure you can take it? I've played this out so many times in my head that I'm not sure I can tone it down.
MARJAGSMACK: I'm a Marine, Clay.
SMACKMAN: You're also a beautiful, highly desirable woman. So desirable I can't help but reach out and claim you for my own.
MARJAGSMACK: Oh, really? How would you accomplish this feat?
SMACKMAN: With pure pleasure, Colonel. First, I think I'd ease the hair away from your throat and stroke the chords of your long neck with my tongue, up and down, hot and wet, until I could slowly dip down into the creamy softness of your perfect breasts. They are perfect, you know.
MARJAGSMACK: My breasts?
SMACKMAN: Oh, yes. I can feel my hands surrounding them, gently cupping them, while I sip the crests into my parched mouth. I'd have to suckle long and hard though. I've been craving this taste for a long time Sarah.
MARJAGSMACK: You have?
SMACKMAN: Dying to take a drink. But I'm greedy, Sarah. A man gets that way when he's finally allowed to live out his fantasies.
MARJAGSMACK: Greedy can be good.
SMACKMAN: Very good. The reality of your flesh is almost too much for me. And the scent of your essence lures me like no other. I fall to my knees, dropping wet kisses down your warm abdomen, licking into the shallow crevice of your belly button. I can't keep my hands still. They're easing between you and the seat of the padded chair, caressing the full curves of your splendid ass. So smooth and firm. Still running?
MARJAGSMACK: Most mornings.
SMACKMAN: It shows. Exquisitely firm! Hold onto the arms of your chair a moment.
MARJAGSMACK: OK. Why?
SMACKMAN: Can you feel me at your mound, my hot breath ruffling your damp curls?
MARJAGSMACK: Uh-huh!
SMACKMAN: Can you ease those gorgeous legs onto my shoulders, please? Carefully, now. One at a time. Feels perfect. How about you?
MARJAGSMACK: Perfect. Nice broad shoulders. Warm to the touch.
SMACKMAN: Broad enough to ease you up for some very private access.
MARJAGSMACK: They certainly are.
SMACKMAN: Oh, Sarah, the reality far exceeds the fantasy. This glistening treasure is too much for me to ignore. I'm drinking my fill, delving my tongue further into your voluptuous depths, my beard roughly scraping your inner thighs. Sorry about that.
MARJAGSMACK: No problem. Feels goooood!
SMACKMAN: Maybe I should go shave.
MARJAGSMACK: No! I love the feel of your stubble against my skin. Please come back!
SMACKMAN: I never left. I couldn't. I've waited so long.
MARJAGSMACK: So have I.
SMACKMAN: My hands just can't let go of your ass. Am I squeezing too hard?
MARJAGSMACK: Squeeze harder.
SMACKMAN: You taste so good. My tongue can't lap up enough. Maybe if I lightly bite on this little button of flesh. Scrumptious! God, that was the "on" button, all right! Now I'm going to drink you dry, Sarah.
MARJAGSMACK: Stop! Please.
SMACKMAN: But you're on the edge---I can feel it, smell it, taste it.
MARJAGSMACK: Actually, I went OVER the edge.
SMACKMAN: Oh. Isn't that OK? :)
MARJAGSMACK: I'm in my office with the blinds wide open experiencing my first orgasm in god knows how long. What do you think?
SMACKMAN: Can't handle the honesty?
MARJAGSMACK: Evidently not. I'm soaking wet right now.
SMACKMAN: Well, that certainly got the desired response.
MARJAGSMACK: Yeah, here I sit all hot and bothered, aching for something I can't have.
SMACKMAN: That's definitely a plus---but I meant that picturing you wet for me has made me harder than a rock ---with no relief in sight.
MARJAGSMACK: Oh. Where are you?
SMACKMAN: On the verge, definitely on the verge�
MARJAGSMACK: I meant, office or home?
SMACKMAN: Home.
MARJAGSMACK: How about inviting me over for a welcome home party?
SMACKMAN: YES!
MARJAGSMACK: You sure?
SMACKMAN: Only if you can handle a real man---I'm not some juvenile delinquent you can tease. I WILL follow through. You have been warned!
MARJAGSMACK: Promises, promises. And I can definitely handle a real man. You got a lot for me to handle?
SMACKMAN: Right now I do. Can't promise anything if you wait too long, though.
MARJAGSMACK: OK. I'm going to come.
SMACKMAN: Damn---not without ME again!
MARJAGSMACK: Over! I'm coming over!
SMACKMAN: Thank you, Jesus�
MARJAGSMACK: Prayers, Clay?
SMACKMAN: Jesus, god, lucky stars---get here yesterday, woman!
MARJAGSMACK: Logging out now.
SMACKMAN: Same here. Hurry! And don't forget your glasses.
MARJAGSMACK: Why?
SMACKMAN: I want you to clearly see what you've been missing.
MARJAGSMACK: Pretty sure of yourself, huh?
SMACKMAN: Oh, hell no, just trying to accentuate the positive.
MARJAGSMACK: BYE! ETA = 22 MINUTES
===============================================================
4PM (EST)
JAG OPS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
"Mr. Webb! It's been a while! What brings you to our neck of the woods?" The jovial lieutenant had a barely perceptible limp and a suspicious look in his eyes.
"Obviously, not what you're thinking, Roberts. Actually, I'm looking for Colonel MacKenzie. She's late for a very important meeting," Clay returned Bud's perfunctory handshake with a wry grin.
"Really, sir? That doesn't sound like the Colonel." Bud picked up a folder from the front desk while Clay scanned the bullpen, noting Mac's empty office.
"No, it doesn't. So? Where is she, Roberts?" Clay inquired, exasperated with the lieutenant's oblivious attitude.
"Oh! In with the Admiral, sir. Sorry. Got a lot on my mind lately." Bud hastily explained.
"Well, with a new mouth to feed and your wife at home, it stands to reason," Clay sympathized.
"Sir, how did you know Harriet had just given birth? Haven't you been out of the country for quite some time?" asked the ever-wary JAG lawyer.
"C'mon, Roberts, it wasn't a state secret was it?" Clay cajoled. Wanting to put Bud at his ease, and in the mood for a bit of fun, Clay added, "So, enjoying fatherhood the second time around? Girl this time, wasn't it? Jen's her name?"
"Yes, sir, very much. We named her after Petty Officer Coates---Jennifer Roberts. Um, if you don't mind me asking sir, exactly how do you find these things out?" asked a clearly puzzled Bud Roberts.
"Embedded microchips---undetectable to the naked eye. We bug everyone, Roberts. You'd be surprised at how much we could learn from a simple paperclip," Clay stated with a straight face.
"Paperclips, sir?" Bud was fingering the one on his folder and considering the various brands and sizes scattered throughout his office and home.
"Hey, you didn't hear it from me, lieutenant. Now, about the Colonel?" Clay raised his eyebrows and nodded towards the Admiral's door.
Still concentrating on the paperclip he'd removed from his case folder, Bud absently told him what he knew. "Been in there for over an hour, sir. She told me she was leaving for the day but never got beyond the Admiral's office. Want me to buzz the Admiral?"
"Sure. Why not? Could be fun to shake up the Admiral again," Clay mused out loud.
"If you say so, sir," but Bud sounded doubtful.
Lieutenant Roberts hit the call button on the phone and waited for the Admiral to respond. "Yes?" Clayton smirked as he realized how much irritation AJ could put into the one word.
"Mr. Webb's here, sir," replied the lieutenant.
"He have an appointment?" the Admiral growled.
This time Clay hit the call button himself and shooed Bud away: "No, AJ. Frankly, I'm so overwhelmed by your welcoming words that---."
"Get in here, Webb!" Grinning, Clay released the call button and opened the heavy oak door.
"Close the hatch and wipe that smirk off your face!" AJ barked.
"Nice to see you, too, AJ!" Clay's smirk became a full-blown grin as he noticed a harried-looking Mac flipping through a book of what looked like wedding invitations.
"So they finally resurrected you from Hell, Webb?" AJ stood up and held out his hand.
"Hard to keep a good man down, AJ," Clay returned the hearty handshake.
"Hell, Webb, took you long enough to find your way back here. I take it this isn't a social call?" Clay was getting a bit tired of all these suspicious attitudes: first Roberts, now AJ. Flashing Mac a brief smoldering look that caused her to squirm in her chair, Clay corrected the Admiral.
"Purely a personal visit, AJ," Clay informed him, then took a logical guess and ran with it, "heard there were wedding bells in the air and wondered if they tolled for you?"
"As a matter of fact, they do. Finally got Meredith Cavanaugh to say yes and we're planning a Fall wedding," AJ proudly stated.
"Congratulations, AJ! Truly. I hope I'm invited?" Clay was sincerely happy for the Admiral, even a little envious of his obvious contentment.
"Sure, add him to the list Mac. But I'm pretty certain that's not what brings this sneaky bastard to my office," AJ insisted.
Conceding the point, Clay admitted, "You're right, but I am sincerely delighted by the news of your upcoming nuptials."
"Mmm-hmm. So what really brings you here?" AJ grinned knowingly. He could always count on Webb break the monotony of the day, and lately, other than planning his wedding, nothing much was going on at JAG Ops.
Deciding to go for broke, Clay shot a wicked warning glance at Mac before smiling at AJ and revealing that he had a date with the Colonel.
"You have a what with who?!" AJ bellowed.
"Mac?" Clay prompted.
"Ah, yes sir. If you'll remember, today was only supposed to be a half-day for me since I've been pulling so much overtime lately," she began.
"So when I shanghaied you to help me with these invitations, you were---?" AJ pressed.
"I, uh, was actually on my way to meet Webb. A, uh, belated welcome home party, sir." Clay had to hand it to her; she was quick on her feet even if she did sound guilty as hell.
"Damn, Mac, you should have said something. Look, hand me that book and you can get going. Private party, huh," AJ had a twinkle in his eye as he studied his Chief of Staff.
Thinking she was finally home free, Mac forgot to consider her spontaneous, full-throated response, "Very."
Heat flooded her face as both men raised their brows in amazement: AJ wondering how long this particular relationship had been going on and Clay in surprised gratitude at Mac's confirmation of a relationship in front of the Admiral.
AJ hastily dismissed Mac before he learned more than he actually wanted to know. From the look on their faces neither one of them seemed to be aware of his presence anyway. Hell, Mac had practically dragged Webb out the door in her haste to get him alone.
He sure would love to be a fly on the wall when Harm got wind of this development. Then again, maybe not. Webb had more going for him that any of Mac's previous suitors---it'd be a shame to see the Commander have to tangle with such a wily adversary, particularly if Mac truly cared for the spy. Making a mental note to have a brief chat with Rabb, AJ grimaced at the thought of having Webb as a regular visitor to his offices. What was the world coming to?
Mac and Webb had almost made it to the elevators when she suddenly remembered the briefcase back in her office. Groaning at the further delay, Mac buried her head in the soft green cotton covering Clay's shoulder and hugged him tight with her right arm.
"My briefcase is still in my office, Clay," Mac breathed into his left ear.
Suppressing a shudder of excitement from the puff of warm air, Clay briefly kissed the top of her head and headed them back towards the bullpen. Arms around each other's waists, and not particularly caring of the picture they presented, the impatient couple entered Mac's office.
Clay shut down the computer while Mac hastily stuffed various case folders into her briefcase. Realizing that Bud had one of her critical files, Mac excused herself to track it down. In her hurry to retrieve the file, she accidentally brushed against the corner of her desk and knocked over a whole stack of completed case files. Catching the look of defeat on her face, Clay planted a hard kiss on her pouting lips and shoved her out the door.
Bending over to retrieve the files from the floor, Clay was startled to hear a perky voice addressing his backside.
"Interesting view, Commander. Snooping through Mac's things again?" came the obviously teasing question.
Amused at being mistaken for Rabb, even if it was from a somewhat awkward angle, Clay slowly rose to an upright position and heard the embarrassed intake of breath behind him.
"Oh sir, I had no idea, sir. It's just that the khaki pants looked like Alphas, but of course the green shirt wasn't visible, and you're obviously not as tall, but from that, um, position and you being so broad in the shoulders---but it was the full head of hair, not that Navy cuts aren't nice, but it *is* usually the Commander who's in here, not that you're not welcome, sir, and ohmigosh, I only meant to come by and see how Mac was doing since she, but you don't need to hear that, and oh, I'm just s-so sorry, sir!" Harriet finally took a breath and stuttered to a mortified halt.
Unable to suppress a wide, dimpled smile, Clay turned around to face the tongue-tied young mother, only to have her nearly jump out of her skin once she recognized him.
"Mr. Webb!" she got out before stumbling back into one of Mac's filing cabinets.
"Harriet, watch it! The baby!" Clay hastily reached out and caught young Jennifer Roberts to his chest as Harriet attempted to recover her balance. Hearing his wife's near-shriek, Bud hurried into the office, closely followed by a curious five-year-old, Mac, and an unfamiliar petty officer.
Taller than the rest of them, save Mac, Clay was able to discern the bald head of the Admiral quickly approaching the over-crowded office. Cradling the baby protectively, Clay touched his cheek to her bright, blond curls before passing her over to her father.
Redirecting his attention to Harriet, he was appalled at the shocked expression in her eyes. His presence had never inspired this type of reaction from any woman of his acquaintance. That it should do so now, confused the hell out of him. "Harriet, it's just me. I---."
"Oh, Mr. Webb, I am SO sorry. I can't believe I said those things about---can you ever forgive me, sir?" Harriet was still holding on to the file cabinet for support while everyone looked back and forth from him to Harriet.
Now that the shock was wearing off, Harriet was beginning to turn a rather alarming shade of red. "Of course, Harriet. Don't worry about it. It was rather complimentary, to tell you the truth."
Seeing how his last comment had caused her to close her eyes in remembered mortification, Clay hastily addressed the Admiral's strident shout of "Webb! What calamity have you caused, now?"
"Just a case of mistaken identity, AJ! Harriet mistook me for Rabb and nearly jumped out of her skin when she finally recognized me!" Clay yelled out at the Admiral. Warning Clay that he had outstayed his welcome for the day, AJ ordered everyone else back to work and slammed back into his office.
Mac, gradually realizing the position in which Harriet must have seen Clay, started to giggle. Bud settled his still-shaken wife into one of Mac's office chairs and asked the petty officer to take little AJ and baby Jen to his office until Harriet had calmed down. Leaning against the doorjamb, Bud calmly observed the Colonel's giggles bubble into gales of laughter while his wife was slowly starting to smile at Clay's attempts to cover Mac's mouth with his hand.
When Clay resorted to just holding Mac in his arms while she hid her laughing face in the open vee of his polo shirt, Bud asked Harriet what she'd said that was so embarrassing. Hoping to save her any further discomfort, Clay nudged Mac around and whispered, "Please don't let her explain it again---my system can't take it." Nodding in understanding, Mac smilingly hauled Harriet to the ladies room and left the men to clear up any further misunderstandings.
After watching his wife being dragged off by the Colonel, Bud focused his intense gaze on Clay, silently asking for an explanation. As quickly and succinctly as he could, Clay replayed the incident. By the time he had finished, Bud was chuckling quietly, thoroughly amused at the antics of his intrepid blonde wife. Thanking Clay for his discretion in front of the other office personnel, Bud headed for his office, leaving Clay to finish packing up Mac's briefcase.
Back in the restroom, the women were hanging on to each other trying to stifle their giggles. By now Mac had told Harriet all about her virtual encounter with Clay and their tentative plans to explore a relationship. Feeling that Harriet had had plenty of time to get over her earlier embarrassment, Mac teased her a little.
"So, it's prime isn't it?" Mac prodded with a twinkle in her eye.
"What's prime?" Harriet was just beginning to get her breath under control.
"Clay's butt." Mac grinned wickedly.
"Honestly, ma'am?" Harriet squinted her eyes in memory.
"Of course, Harriet."
"I don't know how I could have ever mistaken him for Commander Rabb, ma'am. Mr. Webb certainly does have excellent glutes." Harriet proclaimed in an expert fashion.
"Yes he does: so round, so firm, so tight," Mac agreed, licking her lips.
"And did you see those cute dimples when he really smiles? He's got an excellent physique, too. Wonder why I never noticed before today? " Harriet mused aloud.
Both women looked at each and decided, "It's the suits!" It took another five minutes to recover from this observation. By the time Harriet rejoined her family, she had a better understanding of just how much a three-piece suit could camouflage. Mac, on the other hand, was just that much more determined to get Clay out of the JAG offices and into her clutches ASAP.
Maneuvering Clay out of the JAG offices proved more arduous than she could have ever imagined. Harriet kept staring at Clay's butt, causing him to become self-conscious and discreetly brush at the back of his snug khakis. Bud continued to tease Harriet about her impulsive tongue and Little AJ had decided that only his Aunt Sarah could properly tie his shoes---unfortunately, just as soon as she would tie one, he'd untie the other.
It also became obvious that Harriet had had a little chat with Jennifer Coates, because the petty officer's eyes kept landing on Clay's butt each time she'd pass by the office door. Before long, most of the female personnel had made it a point to pass by Mac's office and ogle Clay while he was organizing Mac's desk.
Although Clay was aware of the unusual amount of female attention focused on him, he'd made it more than obvious to one and all that he was only interested in one person. The light touches and soft kisses were chaste, but secretly inciting a passion she was hard-pressed to keep in check. She knew that he was not unaffected by these caresses, but he seemed to have better control in hiding his responses.
By the time they'd left the bullpen, the Admiral had finally noticed Harm and Sturgis's unauthorized absence and was personally tracking them down. During the commotion that ensued, Mac and Clay were able to quietly leave the building, driving separately to Clay's townhouse.
===============================================================
6PM (EST)
CLAYTON WEBB'S TOWNHOUSE
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
Clay had barely shut the front door when Mac launched herself at him from behind. Finding himself spread-eagled against the wall, he reveled in the tender bites his aggressive Marine was making on the nape of his neck.
Eager to extract his own gentle retaliation, Clay tried to turn around, but Mac wouldn't let him. "C'mon Colonel. Let me at you," he growled.
"No. Not yet. Doing this my way. Waited long enough," she panted.
"Oh, Sweetheart, I'm in total agreement. Just let me move around�oomph!" Clay was cut off as Mac hooked an ankle around his leg and pulled him off balance. As they tumbled to the thick carpet, Clay shifted his body to take the brunt of the impact.
Rolling over several times towards the center of the dimly lighted room, Mac proved herself the more agile of the two when she was able to scramble on top of Clay and giggle triumphantly. Clay just lay on his back and looked up at the woman who had suddenly brought so much excitement to his life. A grin of pure delight spread across his face as he started to tell her how fantastic she was. Mac, leaning closer to inspect his elusive dimples, anticipated this totally unnecessary delay by dipping her tongue into his left ear and breathing, "Shut up and kiss me, Webb!"
"Your wish is my com---." Again, Mac took charge and cut off his last word with a ravenous kiss that left Clay groaning for more. Anxiously stripping away the blouse of Mac's alphas, Clay's fingers fumbled a bit over the clasp of her bra. It was difficult to manipulate the hooks with Mac rubbing herself all over him and tugging the shirt out of his khakis.
When her hands abruptly rucked the green polo shirt under his chin, Clay gave up on civility and pulled the damn bra over her head. With her arms raised up, he had just enough time to rip his own shirt off before her hands began a rough massage of his chest and shoulders.
"Mmmmm, muscles. Been holding out on us, huh Clay?" Mac teased. Locating a small-pebbled nipple within the soft hair scattered over his chest, Mac rubbed at it with her index finger.
"No. What? Holding out on who?" Clay tried to focus on her question but was easily distracted by the creamy flesh he was rapidly exposing. Yanking the uniform pants and panties all the way off of her right leg, Clay threw them behind his head and brusquely settled her back to straddle his waist.
"You've got muscles, Clay. Nice, strong, yummy muscles. Why hide them away like you do?" So saying, Mac took a playful bite out of a particularly well-defined bicep. Shuddering from the wet contact of her tongue and the erotic scrape of her teeth over his arm, Clay swallowed before panting out, "Not hidden. Just there. Never thought about it."
Running his own hands up the bare legs on either side of his hips, he was confused by her open astonishment that he would keep himself in shape. And what was that about hiding his body? She was one to talk. The ass he held in his hands right now, that he was slowly kneading with great personal pleasure, was always covered with Marine-issued camouflage.
"Well, uhmm, keep it hidden then. Keep it just for me, why don't you?" Mac lowered her head and her lips latched on to the nipple she'd been tormenting. Pulling it into her mouth, she suckled hard until she heard another agonized groan reverberate throughout the room.
"Done--yours! Damn! Ease off, Sarah! Damn, oh damn, Sarah! Oh, to hell with it, c'mere!" Unused to the torturous pleasure Mac was giving him, Clay pulled her head up and took her mouth with a ferociousness he had never used on another woman. Rolling her over, he attacked her flesh with biting kisses and a soothing tongue. Encouraged by Mac's ragged sighs and roaming hands, he began a primitive exploration of her breasts with his eager hands and hungry mouth. Her turgid nipples quickly became raw and overly sensitive from his repeated ministrations and Mac was writhing wildly below him, begging for him to pull harder, to swallow her whole.
Gaining momentum and, for once, allowing his own needs and wants to dictate his actions, Clay moved down her body while Mac clawed at his bare shoulders. "Oh god, Clay! Don't leave me like this, you bastard!"
Smiling wickedly, Clay slightly raised himself to shuck off the rest of his clothes while reassuring Mac, "I'm not going anywhere and neither are you, sweetheart. No force on this Earth could stop me now---unless you say no." Looking at him as though he'd gone momentarily insane, Mac's eyes softened as she looked into his intense eyes and realized that this, indeed, was a man to be treasured. Reveling in his need for her and craving his hungry touch, Mac growled, "Come here and take it like a man Clay."
"Yes, ma'am," he solemnly nodded his head, then grinned rakishly. Impatient with even this slight delay, Mac hooked her legs around the back of his thighs and pulled forward. Clay allowed himself to go with the momentum, his head landing on her tummy. Loudly groaning from the feel of his evening beard abrading her sensitive flesh, Mac grabbed at his hair to anchor him in place, but Clay had other ideas.
Tonguing his way down her middle, he purposefully scraped his rough cheeks over her bare skin, feeling the excitement build within her trembling limbs. Deliberately aiming south, Clay kneaded her hips and finally rested his nose in the dark curls of her mound. Breathing in the tempting fragrance of her inner heat, Clay gradually nudged his lips into her glistening folds. Realizing his intent, Mac's fingers locked onto his thick hair, unsure that she could take much more. Before she could decide, Clay's tongue aimed for her core like a heat-seeking missile, shattering all thoughts from her mind.
"Claaaay! My god, I'm coming now! Oh, go-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ahd!" she shrieked as he lapped at her essence and gripped harder at her ass. Raising her legs onto his shoulders, Mac let go of his head and fell back onto the carpet twisting back and forth with the cadence of his skillful tongue on her sensitive button of flesh. Catching her breath for second, she was certain he'd ease off of her now, but Clay merely raised her a bit higher and ate away at her moist flesh, inciting multiple orgasms that crippled her ability to move or think.
As the echoes of her pleased shouts faded from the room, Clay slid away from her dripping core and settled between Mac's slowly cooling body and the base of his old leather couch. Rubbing a large hand over her arms in a soothing fashion, he managed to pull her into his body so that he was spooning her from behind. Looking down at her smiling lips and closed eyes, Clay reached back for a couple of pillows from the couch. Resting his head on them and making sure he could still see his lover's face, Clay simply held her close.
Mac's body was still trembling with aftershocks, so he started rubbing gentle circles over her stomach, hoping to bring her down from the intense high he had given her over and over again. Her relaxed moan of ecstasy brought a pleased smile to his lips, but reminded him of his own raging need. Hoping to calm down a little, he eased his erection away from the warm crevice of her ass, but Mac stopped him.
"Where do you think you're going?" she purred up at him.
"You need to rest a bit. Was I too rough with you, Sarah?" Clay wasn't at all apologetic, but he did want to make sure that he'd been reading her correctly before he showed her the full force of his passion.
"Rough? That was fantastic and you know it! That mouth of your should be licensed as a lethal weapon�and I'm not talking about your sarcastic wit this time. Damn, Clay, there's a time for gentle and there's a time for mind-blowing---don't you think we made the right choice?" Mac looked up with innocent eyes and Clay burst out laughing, thoroughly enchanted by both her praise and her taunts.
"You're right. We're right. Everything's right with the world," he laughed, hugging her close and gently kissing her. One kiss led to another, and soon they were engaged in another erotic battle of pleasure. Before they could get too far-gone, Clay pinned her to the floor and caged her head between his arms. Lifting his head from the sweet taste of her lips, he warned her, "Make sure you want this, because once I really take you there's no getting rid of me. So be sure, Sarah."
"So serious, Clay," Mac laughed, stroking up and down his arms and licking her lips.
"I mean it, Sarah. What about you?" Clay leaned down, caught her tongue with his own and gently sipped it into his mouth. Mac closed her eyes at his first touch and moaned at the tender sucking motion he quickly established. Just as she began to place her arms behind his neck to hold him in place, Clay moved back, eluding her grasp.
"Are you sure?" he pressed.
"Damnit, hold still," Mac complained, wrapping her legs and arms securely around him. Then, suddenly shy to respond, she lowered her lashes and raised her lips to his ear, "Oh, I want you Clay. Just like you said on the computer. Remember?"
Clay nodded slightly, recalling what he had typed into his Dell.
"I remember every word and I'm holding you to it," she whispered. "Listen carefully, darling. I don't sleep around. I don't make snap decisions about who I share my body with and I never share my soul willingly. Understand?"
Nipping her shoulder and soothing the small wound with his tongue, Clay smiled. "I'm beginning to. Make it clearer for me."
"God, Clay, you are so---mmmm, do that again." Mac felt the moisture begin to flow within her core again at his touch. When he moved away and just stared expectantly at her, frustration hit her with a vengeance. "What?"
"Do you want me as badly as I want you?" he demanded to know.
"Yes, you idiot! Just like you said earlier: with me, on me, under me, around me, stroking me, coming for me, screaming, purring, demanding, panting, giving, taking, sharing�the real thing. No substitutes. Satisfied?" she huffed.
"Not yet," Clay murmured, "but I'm pretty sure I will be in a few hours."
"Hours?" Mac opened her eyes wide and slowly began to grin back at him.
"Hey, that's a long list and a good field agent gathers as much intel as possible before completing each mission. That's the key to a successful op, you know. Just figuring out how many different ways I can make you come should take a couple of days, don't you think?" Clay was stroking her shoulder with his thumbs.
"What're you waiting for, then?" Mac shifted her shoulders and dug her fingers into his hair.
"Gotta come up with a plan. Wanna do this right," Clay teased.
But Mac had had enough. Rolling him to his back, she took charge and forcefully impaled herself on him, causing a loud protest. "Damn, Sarah, I was getting to it. Are you all right?"
When she didn't answer, Clay rolled them back over and tried to extricate himself, but Mac wouldn't let go. "C'mon sweetheart, let me do this right. I can do this right," he pleaded.
"Feels good to me," she groaned, and glancing down, Clay realized that she did look rather pleased with herself.
"Then let me make it better, okay? Will you let me do that for us?" he coaxed, earning a grudging nod of approval and a warning of her own. "OK, but no more delays Clay. I'm aching here."
"I can take care of that," he stated as, ever so slowly, he slipped halfway out of her snug passage and rammed home again. "See?"
Slapping his bare buttock with an open palm, Mac derided his brief move and voiced her displeasure. "Is that all you've got? Maybe you're too old for me, after all."
"Sarah, dear," Clay rose up again, easing out of her, "you military types are all alike." Clay slowly slid back in, tilting back to dip in at a better angle. At her grunt of appreciation, he continued his lecture while moving out again, this time a little faster, "Making snap judgments before you have all your intel." This time his entry was wetter, but more snug as he was growing in proportion to the deep thrusts.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh-kay, but it still doesn't see-hee-heem like much to mee-hee," Mac panted, her inner muscles trying to hold Clay in place as he experimented with a few different angles of penetration.
Clay's thumb was searching through her wet folds for that sensitive button he'd found earlier. Finding it, he ground it roughly into her pelvic bone, causing Mac to jerk wildly in his arms, tossing her head from side-to-side. "You're right, sweetheart," he panted, rising up again and slamming home.
"Harder, Clay, come in harder, you tease!" Mac frantically ordered.
"Got to," thrust, "make this," thrust, "more exciting," thrust-thrust, "for you," thrust-thrust-thrust. Clay waited inside of her while Mac's orgasm continuously rolled over her. Holding back his own release with a tight control, Clay breathed deeply while her inner muscles rapidly massaged his inflamed senses. Kissing her closed eyelids, Clay trailed his open mouth down to her distended nipples, giving each a quick swipe of his tongue. At her agonized groan, he caught the left one in his mouth and suckled hard, pulling yet another orgasm from Mac. As her body lifted from the carpet in response, she pleaded, "Oh, god! I can't go on, it's too much."
Clay merely grinned and moved to her other breast, kissing and nipping the soft, firm flesh. Once he heard Mac's sigh of ecstasy, the gentle nips became harder and more demanding. By the time Clay had taken the reddened nipple between hip lips for a final suckle, Mac had reached the end of another orgasm and was desperately trying to keep up with him.
"How are you doing this? How did you know?" she whispered, too exquisitely relaxed to really care about the answers.
"I didn't," Clay huskily admitted, "just gathering the intel right now." Nuzzling her neck, he decided to delay his own satisfaction for another time so that she could recover. After all, she had claimed that the wanting was mutual, so he wasn't worried about eternal frustration. Resigned, but determined, he began to pull out of her warm sheath. Feeling his withdrawal, Mac quickly wound her legs back around to his back and held on tight.
"Just where do you think you're going?" she demanded breathlessly, brushing a kiss across his lips.
"Sweetheart, you're drained. Rest for a bit. I can wait," Clay told her, brushing the damp hair out of her eyes.
"You don't think I'm up to it? That you have more stamina than I do? Damnit, Clay, I'm in great shape!" she argued.
Running his hands up and down her luscious curves, he had to agree, "Damn fine shape, Sarah. The best."
Energized by his loving looks and admiring words, Sarah gently pushed him back and settled her knees on either side of his hips. Looking down at him, her well-loved breasts heaving with passion, she slowly began propelling her hips up and down, riding his thick erection. "Then take me, Clay. I'm yours."
Needing no further inducement, Clay flipped her over and rode her hard, driving his long length into her again and again until he exploded within her womb. Collapsing onto the carpet, Clay lay still for several moments while Mac snuggled onto his chest, still luxuriating in their shared orgasm.
Curling a chest hair around her index finger, Mac walked her other hand up Clay's sweaty chest and tweaked his nose. "Well, you were right."
"'Bout what?" Clay quietly asked.
"Gathering intel is an extremely important step. Care to gather some more?" There was a hopeful lilt to Mac's voice.
Turning their heads to face one another, they both laughed and gathered each other closer as Clay responded, "Only if you feed me first."
===============================================================
LUNCHTIME
AUGUST 21, 2003
JAG OPS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
Harm had just stepped into Mac's office when the sound of an open door came from the speakers of her computer. Recognizing the familiar sign-on from the IM system, Mac frowned at Harm's intrusion.
"Hey, Mac. Wanna do lunch?" Harm leaned against her file cabinet, waiting for her response.
"Rain check, hmmm, Harm? Got a lot to do today." Mac absently told him while trying to read the new IM message on her computer screen.
SMACKMAN: Lunch is ready---I have food, too. Just about ready?
"C'mon, Mac. You've got to eat sometime. I can bring something back for us." Harm was still there, damnit. Holding up a finger to hush him, Mac quickly typed her response.
MARJAGSMACK: I'm ready for lunch anytime you are. The food sounds like a good addition! ;)
"Mac? Hello, Earth to Mac? Are you shutting me out here?" Harm was getting a bit testy over Mac's continued absorption in the computer screen.
"What IS it Harm? Can't you see I'm busy here?" She was trying to concentrate on Clay's answer.
SMACKMAN: Really? Anytime, huh? How about as soon as you see me? You spot me, I jump you.
MARJAGSMACK: Mmmmm---Lunch on demand?
Harm stopped leaning against the file cabinet and began to walk around her desk. "What's so important that you can't stop to have lunch with an old friend?"
"Uh, Harm, I'm just not hungry. Harm! What are you doing?" Mac had just noticed Harm's approach and stood up, trying to block her monitor.
"What's going on, Mac? Why are you so nervous?" Harm demanded.
"I'm not nervous and nothing's going on. I'm just really busy right now," she argued.
"Right. Too busy for me, but not for Webb," he accused.
"What?" he'd caught Mac totally off guard.
"I heard about his little visit yesterday. Hell, Sturgis told me the women even took a poll to determine which of us had the best six. Then there was the Admiral's little talk," Harm griped.
Mac was grinning all of a sudden. "Who won?"
"Won what?" Harm asked.
"The poll." Mac stared at him, wide-eyed.
"Webb did," he muttered.
"Who? I didn't hear you," Mac told him.
"WEBB! Webb won the stupid poll! All right?" Harm was nearly apoplectic at this point, especially when Mac merely nodded with a satisfied look on her face and peeked a quick look back at her
monitor.
Incensed, Harm began to demand an explanation, but was interrupted by the knock on Mac's door.
"Ma'am?" Bud Roberts poked his head in the door. "Sorry for the interruption, but the Admiral is looking for the Commander. Wants to see him ASAP."
"Okay, Bud, I'm on my way." Harm told him. When Bud continued to stand in the doorway, Mac started to giggle and Harm told him, "I'll be there in just a sec."
Bud just shook his head and apologized again. "The Admiral said not to let you out of sight once I'd found you, or words to that effect."
"This isn't over Mac. I'm going to find out what's going on," Harm warned before exiting with Bud. Mac just laughed at his chagrined expression and rushed back to her computer. With any luck, Clay was still on-line.
SMACKMAN: As long as it's consensual lunch, why not?
Mac smiled at his last response and quickly sat down at her keyboard.
MARJAGSMACK: Had an interruption. You still there?
SMACKMAN: Sure. Have a hard time getting rid of Harm?
MARJAGSMACK: Not even going to ask how you knew. Sooooo---If I see you first, I get to jump you?
SMACKMAN: You bet. My pleasure. Hope you mean it.
MARJAGSMACK: I always keep my word---you know that by now.
SMACKMAN: I did learn a few of your better Marine qualities last night---and this morning.
MARJAGSMACK: I never leave a man behind---I let you catch up to me didn't I?
SMACKMAN: Thank god! So, you really meant it about lunch on demand?
MARJAGSMACK: You know me, I'm a ravenous woman. Of course I meant it!
SMACKMAN: On first sight? You'd really jump me?
MARJAGSMACK: In a split second, lover-boy!
SMACKMAN: Okay, then, look over the bullpen at Tiner's office.
MARJAGSMACK: You're here?
SMACKMAN: Just look over at Tiner's office.
MARJAGSMACK: You're here aren't you?
SMACKMAN: Look over here, damnit!
MARJAGSMACK: My god, you ARE here!
SMACKMAN: That's it! Close your blinds, I'm on my way over.
MARJAGSMACK: But�.I have to work here, Clay!
SMACKMAN: Then close your blinds, `cause I'm holding you to your promise.
MARJAGSMACK: Walk slowly, they're six blinds to close.
SMACKMAN: Promise me a second helping of dessert and I'll help you close them before you jump me.
MARJAGSMACK: Done! It's a deal. Hurry, for god's sake, before Harm sees you.
SMACKMAN: Who do you think got him out of your office so efficiently?
MARJAGSMACK: OK, three desserts.
Mac had barely logged off her computer before Webb tapped on her door and came in. It didn't take so long to close the blinds after all. Mac jumped him as soon as the last blind was closed, but there wasn't much room in which to maneuver and Clay was forced to hold a gentle hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. In the long run, the appetizer was so delicious that they decided to enjoy the rest of their lunch at home, in more comfortable surroundings.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ F I N I S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~