Auld Lang Sine
by Adelheide
Maureen Silver wearily took a seat at the bar. She hoped she was secluded enough to avoid any more passes. She was on a business trip. Occasions like this were the rare opportunity for her to be alone with herself. Away from the office and the constant demands of her staff and customers, she used business travel as an excuse to shut off her cell phone, avoid voice mail, and enjoy peace and quiet. As the owner and president of a small web design firm (and the most successful such venture in the Valley), she personally went to pitch her company's services to any corporation that was interested. She didn't hire sales people. She wasn't large enough for that yet. Customer were charmed by what they saw as a personal touch. They didn't know that she used these trips to escape and unwind.
Maureen had always been a loner. Even as a child, she preferred the company of books and computers to that of people. Her parents worried about her being "withdrawn" and a "bookworm". When puberty hit, she discovered to her horror that her body was not going about the change to adulthood gracefully. She took this as another reason to hide in her world of text and code. In high school, Mother Nature took particular delight in tormenting her. She grew four inches in two years, putting her far above the heads of her male classmates. Her "womanly attributes", as her mother called them, went haywire. Her hips and bust grew all out of proportion. She was dumpy and heavy and clumsy. The skin on her face, chest, and shoulders sprouted a field of white heads and black heads. Her hair became greasy halfway through the day, no matter what shampoo she used. With her body's betrayal, she shied away from others, preferring to spend her free time in study hall or the computer lab.
"Hey Mo!" the jocks would call down the hall to her, imitating Curly and his "Nyuck nyuck nyuck". Then they would burst into harsh laughter and walk away, hurling insults over their shoulders. Maureen would duck behind her armload of books and escape to the nearest classroom. She never wanted to belong to the high school crowd. But it would have been nice if they could just leave her in peace.
In her junior year of college, however, Nature apparently took pity on her plight. Her skin cleared up and became soft and smooth. The oil on her scalp calmed enough to leave her hair shiny. A little on the mousy brown side, but a bit of Nice & Easy was enough to boost the shade to a warm chestnut. The pads of fat left her chin and belly, leaving her with a pleasant curvy shape. She still considered her hips a piece of genetic betrayal, but no amount of gym time was going to tame them. She learned to dress to minimize her hips and play up her bosom and eyes. By her senior year, more than one college student wondered why a pretty young woman would spend so much time in the computer and math sciences building.
There was the hair disguising and those hips, but over all, Maureen was pleased by what she saw happening in the mirror. But she was still a loner at heart and never got used to the attention her new body shape brought her. She knew she was shaped like Mae West and Marilyn Monroe, rather than the willowy beach girl look that was all the rage. Men responded to her shape, not always pleasantly. Women, even less pleasantly. In the ladies' room of the 4th floor computer lab, she overheard some classmates discussing her figure. "Loose" and "floozy" were used a lot. Maureen stayed in the stall and held her breath. As if she purposely looked like this.
Something happened during grad school. Maureen came into her own. She walked with purpose and grace. She stopped caring what other people thought and said. She knew she was smart. She knew she had talent. And she knew that, broader hips included, she was attractive. Her first lover was a fumbling, ackward disaster, but each man after that gave her more assurance. She was still private and didn't date a tremendous amount. But she experienced enough men to realize that she enjoyed sex and that it was a vital part of who she was becoming.
However, there were times, like earlier that evening, when her body brought her unwanted attention. Like the drunken business man who oozed into the seat across from her and not-so-subtly suggested that they "get a room". And the man with the dented tan line on his left ring finger who talked to her breasts the entire time. Maureen was tired and not up to dealing with these buffoons. She has spent the last two days in stiff competition with a page design firm from Seattle. They were both vying for the lucrative business of a chain of banks. If Maureen landed this, her company would break the $5M mark by year's end. She might even be able to divide her stocks. At the very least, she would be forced to hire a salesman to handle all the new business prospects. While she would miss all the travel, it would be nice to sit back and enjoy the efforts of her years of hard work, long hours, and sacrifice.
So, she picked a darkened end of the bar, sank onto a stool, and gestured for the bartender. She wanted nothing but one drink, then up to her room for a hot bath and an early bedtime. She ordered a Manhattan and settled back for a little people watching. Others often thought she was too sheltered by her private ways, but Maureen found that, on the contrary, she learned a great deal by keeping her mouth shut and watching what other people did.
She was halfway through her drink when a man on the opposite end of the restaurant caught her eye. There was something familiar about him... Maureen slowly sipped her drink, wrestling with d�j� vu and trying to place the face. He was very tall and thin. Strange, spiky hair. She rapidly went through the files of her memory and was about to give up when the recognition struck her like a truck. She nearly dropped her glass.
"Good God," Maureen breathed. "Darien Fawkes."
Memory rocketed her back to high school. She would see him, slouching down the halls of the school. His hair was much longer then. Darien was gangly and skinny, looking like a tangle of sharp joints and long limbs. He always affected an air of disinterest and disdain. But he was never mean. Not to her and not to the other misfits of high school society. In fact, he'd come to her rescue once when the jocks were not content to verbally taunt her.
She was hurrying through the hallway one day, books clutched to her alarming chest, head down, intent on making it to her next class, when they were suddenly there. Mitch Roberts and Roy Casters and Bill something-or-other. As well as the rest of the Neanderthal Gang. They quickly surrounded her, trapping her next to a row of lockers. Maureen's heart hammered in her chest. She was breathing so hard she couldn't call out for help. "Hey Mo!" Bill bleated into her face, making Curly sounds and laughing about his ingenuity. Roy reached forward and flipped the books out of her arms. Maureen couldn't decide between staying put or retrieving them.
"Nice tits, Mo," Mitch slurred. The rest of the groups thought that was a riot and leered and poked at her. "Maybe you'd get a date if you showed them off a little more." With that, Mitch reached forward, grabbed her left breast, and squeezed hard. Blood rushed to Maureen's face. She was mortified, terrified, and sure she would faint. She was considering unconsciousness as a serious option when a voice broke through the hyena cackles.
"Knock it off!"
All heads, including Maureen's, turned to the source of the voice. Darien Fawkes, already at his full height, towered over the rest of them. For the first time since she'd known him, Maureen noticed he was standing up straight. He glared down at the jocks. "Leave her alone," he commanded.
Mitch pushed his way through the bodies to stand toe to toe with Darien. At 5'9", Mitch was no match for the other's height. Mitch was a football player and built like a tank. But Darien was tall. He could have been on the basketball team, if he'd ever tried out. In this confrontation, he was using his every inch to his advantage. He didn't budge as Mitch pushed against him.
"What are ya gonna do, Fawkes?" Mitch challenged. "Shouldn't you be in juvie right now?"
Darien didn't rise to the bait. "Why don't you quit picking on girls, Roberts? Or are they the only ones you're not afraid of?"
There were several long, tortuous, tense moments. While Darien might be able to handle himself in a one-on-one fight with Mitch, Maureen doubted that would happen. After the first punch had been thrown, all of the jocks would descend on Darien and no doubt beat him within an inch of his life. The thought had to be going through Darien's mind as well. But he never flinched. He never backed down. He and Mitch glared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before Mitch backed off. "Let's go," Mitch muttered to his flock. They broke up and rattled down the hall, occasionally throwing hostile glances over their shoulders. But Maureen never heard of revenge against Darien. And the jocks never bothered her again.
"Are you okay?" Darien asked, resting a hand on her shoulder. Stunned, dazed, all she could do was gape up at him and nod. "You sure?" She nodded again stupidly and watched as he crouched down and collected her books from the floor. He handed her the stack and gave her a lopsided smile. "Take it easy, okay?" Then, slouching again, he shuffled down the hall.
"Okay," Maureen managed to whisper at his retreating back. She developed a serious crush on Darien Fawkes that day. Not that she ever told anyone or acted on her feelings. Darien was a Bad Boy. He's already been arrested a few times, missing school while waiting to be bailed out or to appear in court. He had a reputation. She had a reputation as a Good Girl and a Brain. Those types didn't spend time with Bad Boys.
But Maureen had a few classes with him and found him intelligent and insightful. She always thought it was weird. Kids who got into trouble rarely did well in class. But Darien was genuinely bright and always got decent grades, even while being sarcastic to the teachers. Maureen found the dichotomy intriguing. But, they were as opposite on the high school food chain as two people could be. As time passed, Maureen's passionate heart flutterings for Darien were replaced with college relationships and a near miss with the altar. She honestly hadn't thought about him in years. And there he was, a few dozen feet away from her. She felt her heart race for a moment before she calmed herself down.
For the love of Moses, Silver, she scolded herself. That was 14 years ago. He barely knew you then. She returned to normal, her body settling back from the jolt of a trip down Memory Lane. She watched him for a while. He was with another man. No one she knew. He was shorter than Darien and bald. Well, balding. He was compact and well-built, wearing a jacket and wool slacks. Darien was dressed in faded khakis, a worn T-shirt, and sneakers. He looked very out of place in the hotel restaurant crowd. Maureen smiled. Darien never was one for conventional dressing. Darien and the other man sat at a table, but Maureen got the distinct impression that they weren't there for dinner. The two of them kept scanning the restaurant, bending their heads together to talk, then they would look around again.
Maureen settled back and watched. She felt a bit like a voyeur, but it was nice to see Darien again, looking fit and well. He'd filled out a bit since high school, but not much. He was still built like a beanpole. Despite nursing her drink, she managed to finish off the last of her watery Manhattan. She ordered another. Maureen rarely drank and when she did, she usually stopped at one. But she wanted to a reason to keep her seat at the bar. She had a good vantagepoint. She considered going over to Darien, but discarded that idea. He was obviously busy with whatever he was doing with his friend.
She watched as Darien and his companion kept watching the restaurant and the patrons. They ordered iced teas, but no food. Iced tea, not alcohol. Maureen wondered about that. After an hour, the other man pulled out a cell phone, spoke briefly, and then put it away. Darien spoke to him. The other man pulled a pained expression. There was a quick exchange, then ruffled feathers were smoothed back down.
At last, the two men stood from the table and prepared to leave. Leaving. They were leaving. God knew if she would ever see him again. Maureen found herself off the stool and moving through the crowds, trying to get to Darien before he made it to the door. Her legs felt wobbly. That second drink hadn't been a good idea. She flashed on his rescue of her. She hoped she would fare better in this meeting. A large, heavy man stood from his chair directly in front of her. Darien and the other man were almost out. Maureen called his name and waved. Darien stopped, peering into the sea of people, trying to find the person who had summoned him. Maureen managed to squeeze around the fat man and waved again. Darien looked right at her. He had no idea who she was.
After making her way through the people and the tables with more grace than she thought she was capable of, Maureen stood in front of Darien Fawkes. She smiled, catching her breath. He still had no idea who she was. "I'm sorry," Maureen began breathlessly. "I was over there and saw you. I just had to say hello."
He nodded politely. No reason he should know who she was. Maureen was about to slink away when the chutzpah that got her to start her own company came to the fore. She held out her hand. "Maureen Silver."
Darien took her hand and shook it. He was clearly searching his memory. Then, realization lit up his face. He'd become very handsome. His skin, too, had cleared up. "Maureen? Maureen Silver? From Alexander High?"
She beamed, happy he remembered. "Yes. How are you, Darien?"
He was looking more and more pleased. His eyes did a quick scan of her body. Maureen decided not to hold that against him. Men always did that, whether they realized it or not. "I'm good. I'm doing real good. You look..." His eyes landed on hers and she instantly forgave him. "You look great, Maureen. Really terrific."
The man with Darien cleared his throat. Without waiting for formal introductions, he took her hand. "Hi there. My name is Robert Hobbes." He smiled warmly and added, "Bobby."
She tore her eyes away from Darien. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hobbes."
"Bobby," he corrected with a soft chuckle. Maureen knew enough about men to immediately recognize when someone was putting the moves on her. While flattered by the handsome man's efforts, she wasn't in the mood.
"Bobby," she agreed, gently removing her hand from his grasp.
There was a moment of awkward silence. A weight in the air between them. Bobby tried to fill the void with charming small talk, but he couldn't resuscitate the conversation. Finally, Darien shook her hand again. "It was good to see you, Maureen. If you're ever in town, let's get together." Was that regret she saw on his face? Did he really mean what he was saying?
She smiled and watched him move for the exit. He was leaving again. "If you're ever in town", her foot! Who knew when she was going to be in town again? Especially if that sales barracuda from Seattle won the bid? Maureen pushed her way through the door and into the hotel lobby. Darien and Bobby were halfway across the lush carpeted foyer. Maureen called, "Darien!' and hurried after them.
He stopped and turned quickly, which she decided, in the heat of the moment, to take that as a good sign. She fished a business card and a pen out of her bag. "I'm staying here, at this hotel," she told Darien as she scribbled some phone numbers on the back of the card. "This is the hotel number. This is my cell phone. Let's get together for dinner."
He took the card from her and read the numbers. Then he smiled. "Sure," he said. "I'd like that."
Maureen could scarcely believe her ears. For a second, she was a gawky, shy high school girl again. "Really?"
Darien's smile became brighter and warmer. He was sincere. "Yeah," he said enthusiastically. "I'd really like that."
It was the land of the quick and the dead... "How about tomorrow night? Say, 8?"
"Tomorrow night would be great." Bobby tugged on Darien's arm and tried to whisper something to him. Darien shook him off. "Tomorrow night would be perfect. I'll meet you here?"
"Right here." Maureen pointed to the thick navy pile. "8 o'clock."
She didn't think it was possible, but his smile got broader. "Okay. I'll see you here."
She'd done it. She'd made a date with a high school crush she hadn't seen in nearly 15 years. And, better still, he seemed just as excited about it as she did. Maureen watched Darien and his friend leave. Bobby was saying something urgently to Darien, who wasn't listening. He was looking at her card. Just before he and Bobby pushed through the large glass and brass revolving door, Darien turned, smiled, and waved. Maureen wiggled her fingers back. After the door swallowed them both, she bounced through the lobby to the elevators. Her fellow passengers tried not to stare at her as she hummed an old Duran Duran song on the ride up.

The next morning, as she knew she would, Maureen felt sluggish. She always did the morning after a couple of drinks. But a hot shower and a room service breakfast managed to perk her up. Today was the day. She had a 10:00 meeting with the vice president of marketing at the bank. The barracuda followed her. Maureen had a tight presentation and good talent to back her up, but she decided she needed some more help. She put on her lucky suit. Royal blue worsted wool. It was cut enough to be attractive but conservative enough to meet even the most staid approval. Harriet, her assistant, called her just as she was gathering her things. Another customer wasn't happy with the links on his site. Maureen had Harriet transfer her to the designer. After five minutes, they had the problem ironed out. Maureen promised to check the site after her meeting. She was running late. She liked to be 20 minutes early for a presentation. If she hurried, she'd make it to the bank offices just in time.
As she drove her rental car to the meeting, her cell phone chirped from her purse. With practiced ease, she fetched it out and put it to her ear.
"Maureen?"
She had been expecting Harriet again, not Darien. "Good morning, Darien."
"How are you?"
She palmed the wheel--thank God for power steering--and made her turn. "I'm fine. How are you?"
"Great. I was just calling to confirm our date for 8 tonight."
Maureen was touched. Most men would have just assumed they were set. Or not even shown up at all. Darien was telling her that he was happy about their meeting. "Yes. 8 o'clock. In the hotel lobby."
"That's great." There was a moment of silence.
"Darien?" she said, pulling to a stop at a light.
"I'm looking forward to tonight. It was great seeing you again."
Maureen blinked. He sounded so sweet, so sincere. She reran the conversation and tried to find any hint of deception, but came up empty. Her eyes stung. For a second, she thought she might cry. But Maureen reminded herself that she would ruin her make-up and got a hold of herself. "It was great to see you, too, Darien," she told him gently. "I'll see you tonight. At 8."
"8. You got it. Goodbye."
"Bye, Darien."
As it was, Maureen got to the bank offices with 5 minutes to spare. She walked into Mr. Shaw's office and nailed the presentation. She was on her game. She could feel it. If he went with that smarmy creep from Seattle, he was a crazy old fool. As she left the office, flush with victory, the barracuda was in the waiting room. She smiled at him and chuckled to herself at the confused, slightly panicked expression she got in return.
She got back to her room to find six messages. Harriet had called again. The design adjustments for the problem customer didn't go well. Maureen plugged in her laptop, conference called the designer and the customer, and worked for two hours. It turned out that the customer liked the original design after all. When the customer hung up, Maureen calmed the creative nerves of her designer, took care of a few things with Harriet, then prepared for a bath. As she walked past the bed, wrapped in her towel, the phone rang.
"Miss Silver?" a female voice she recognized as the receptionist inquired.
"Yes, this is she."
"Miss Silver, Mr. Shaw would like you to know that he was very pleased with your final presentation. He would like to meet with you the day after tomorrow to discuss the design for the bank's new website."
Maureen flung her arms in the air and allowed herself a squeal of delight. When she put the phone back to her ear, she was professional once again. "I'm very happy to hear that," she said smoothly. "What time would Mr. Shaw like to meet?"
"He would like to take you to lunch. Would 11:30 be all right?"
Be all right? Not only had she won the bid, but she was being dined! He could take her for lunch at midnight if he wanted to! "Let me check my calendar." She flipped a few pages in her Daytimer. "Yes. 11:30 would be fine." She made the final arrangements with the secretary and rung off. Maureen whooped with joy and promptly called Harriet to relay the news. After several moments of congratulations and laughter, she made it to her bath.
Years of traveling had taught Maureen how to pack efficiently and lightly. And she discovered that her mother's advice about a little black dress was some of the soundest ever. It was a very simple, sleeveless number, bought for a song at a sale at Barney's. It could be dressed down for business or up for an evening out. But paired with her Italian stiletto heels and ropes of crystal beads, she was dressed to kill. She admired her reflection, adjusted her hose, grabbed her evening bag, and headed down stairs.
She stood in the lobby for barely a minute before Darien appeared through the large doors. He was wearing a jacket with patches at the elbows, a shirt with a collar, and corduroy pants. The clothes looked old, but they were clean and pressed. He looked at her and broke into a huge grin. Impetuously, he took her arm and kissed her cheek. "You look wonderful."
She blushed under the compliment. He had obviously made an effort himself. She could detect aftershave that she couldn't place. His hair was combed, but still unruly. He reminded her of a professor she had in college. A brilliant man, but clothing and style were necessary evils to him. She found Darien's look charming.
"Where would you like to go?" he asked, glancing at the restaurant.
"Oh, not there. I've eaten every meal there for the past four days. I was hoping you would know some place."
He thought a moment, then smiled. "I know a place." He led the way out of the hotel and to the parking lot. A large old car waited for them. Darien opened the door for her and helped her in. Maureen smiled. It wasn't often one found manners like that. For all her feminist independence, Maureen had to admit that it was nice when men opened doors and took off their hats.
Darien took her to an outdoor caf�. The weather was temperate and balmy, so the setting was perfect. Maureen realized that she was a little overdressed for the place, but she felt good and was with good company. Darien held her chair for her before taking his own seat. She'd never seen this side of him in high school. Of course, she'd never had a reason to.
There was another awkward silence, and then they both tried to speak at the same time. To correct that, they offered each other the floor, again at the same time. They laughed, the tension gone. "So," Maureen began. "What are you doing these days, Darien?"
"I'm working for the government."
She hadn't expected that. "Really?"
"Yes. The Health and Human Services."
She must have looked skeptical, because he withdrew a billfold from his jacket and flipped it open to show her. Sure enough, there was his photo ID and a badge. Maureen was sure there was an interesting story behind that, but before she could ask, Darien took his turn.
"What are you up to?"
"I own my own company," Maureen replied with pride.
Now it was Darien's turn to be surprised. He pulled out her business card and looked at the text side. "You own Gateways Unlimited?"
She smiled. "Yes. President and founder."
He squinted at the address line. "What are you doing in town?"
"I had a sales meeting with the vice president of marketing for Coastal Bank. They've finally decided to launch a website." She waited a beat, then, "I won the account today."
Darien's eyes flew open. "Wow! Really? That's great!"
Maureen smiled some more, feeling very good about the day. "It's going to be a lot of work. But, it's going to mean great growth for my company. I can offer my employees a 401K at long last."
He beamed at her. "Congratulations, Maureen! That is really great. I think a celebration is in order." A waiter appeared and Darien ordered a bottle of champagne--"Is that okay?"--and turned to her again. He kept the conversation on her. While proud of her accomplishments and achievements, Maureen became self-conscious after a while. But whenever she would ask Darien about himself, he would give vague answers. Or change the subject. He was willing to talk about his present, but not his past. Maureen could understand. If Darien had continued on the path he'd started in high school, he had no doubt had a checkered life. The fact that he was able to turn things around enough to get a job with a government agency said a lot about his fortitude.
The champagne arrived and Darien toasted her good fortune. They talked more, mostly about recent times. Maureen started her third glass before realizing it. She felt comfortable with Darien. He was as smart and intelligent as ever, often quoting authors she loved and discussing works she was familiar with. He was funny and charming. And, by the middle of her third glass of champagne, he was looking very, very attractive. Darien offered to order another bottle and Maureen heard herself breezily agree.
The food was good. Some kind of French-Italian fusion cuisine. It helped absorb some of the alcohol, but when Maureen excused herself to go to the ladies room, she had a bit of trouble getting her feet under her. Darien tried to help, but he'd consumed half as much more as she had. In the restroom, Maureen splashed cold water on her face, tidied up her make-up, and popped an Altoid in her mouth. She watched her reflection. She had a serene, Mona-Lisa-like smile on her face. It was good in that she wasn't grinning like a fool. It was bad in that she didn't realize she was smiling. With some effort and a little inner pep talk, she pulled herself together and rejoined her date.
By the end of the meal, they were both feeling very mellow. They leaned across the table toward each other as they spoke, as though they were whispering. When she ordered dessert, Darien wasn't fazed. She smiled at him as she ate forkfuls of the rich, creamy, chocolate cheesecake.
They managed to get away from the table with their dignity in tact, but it was clear from their walk to the front that driving was not a good idea. Maureen asked the valet to call them a cab. They stood together and waited, chatting quietly, each occasionally propping the other up. Maureen told an old joke and they both fell into a giggle fit that they couldn't stop.
In the back of the taxi on the way to the hotel, Maureen decided she wanted Darien. She wanted him very much. The thought of them together, rolling through her king-size bed and its lovely sheets, made her loins tingle. She scooted closer to Darien. He put his arm around her and smiled. She looked into his eyes and liked what she saw. Soon, he leaned forward and kissed her.
It was a rather chaste kiss, but he quickly followed up with another, deeper one. She savored the feel of his lips moving on hers. She could taste the beef bourgeone and champagne in his mouth. She opened her mouth and ran her tongue over his teeth. Darien kissed her with more passion now, the tentativeness gone. His other arm circled her waist and pulled her close. She hitched her leg over his knee. She held him tight and lost herself in the sensation of his lips and tongue. Maureen slipped a hand under his jacket and felt his back through the cloth of this shirt. He felt wonderful. She desperately wanted to see him without that shirt. He pulled his mouth from hers and nibbled his way down her jaw to her neck. Maureen sighed, loving the sensation of his breath and tongue on her neck. He smelled good. She wanted him badly.
Darien returned to her mouth and kissed her truly and deeply. A little moan escaped her throat as his hand moved from her waist to the hem of her dress. She lifted her leg, encouraging him to continue. Then a voice from the front seat broke the moment. "Here we are, folks."
They both broke the kiss, peering into the driver's compartment. The driver was parked in front of the hotel, watching them both in rear view mirror. Both Maureen and Darien looked down and realized what a sight they must be. They untangled themselves from each other and went about straightening their clothes. Maureen was blushing and smiling at the same time. She'd never done anything like this before and she was, frankly, thrilled. She looked carefully at Darien. He was tucking his shirt back into his belt. He smiled quickly, then looked away, a bit embarrassed himself. Maureen got out of the back first and paid the driver. The man took her money and tip and nodded knowingly. Maureen blushed again. She ducked back into the passenger end.
"Walk me to my door?" she asked. Darien looked up at her as though he wasn't sure what to do next. He still wanted her. She could see it. But he was a bit flummoxed by the situation. "Please?" she added softly.
Darien, bless his heart, complied. He climbed from the back. The driver leaned over to the passenger window and called out, "Do you want me to wait, sir?"
Before anyone, even Maureen, knew what was happening, she looked at the driver and said, "No, thank you. He will get another cab." She silenced the shock on Darien's face with a long, slow kiss. When she pulled away, he had a goofy grin that told her he was all hers.
They managed to keep their hands off each other through the lobby. But when they got an elevator all to themselves, Maureen felt Darien's hand slide from her back to her rump. She smiled slyly at him and leaned over to kiss him again. When the doors dinged open, they stepped into the hallway, linked at the mouth. A near collision with a chair convinced them to break apart long enough to get to her door. While Maureen tried to get the key card to work (why couldn't hotels just use old-fashioned keys?), Darien pressed himself into her back. Maureen bit back a moan. She could feel he wanted her as much as she did him.
The door gave way at last and they stumbled into the darkness of her room, kissing each other hard and fumbling at their clothes. Darien was able to push the door shut with his foot before Maureen hit the wall with her back and pulled him with her. She impatiently pushed his jacket off his shoulders while she probed his mouth with her tongue, trying to taste and feel every inch of him as quickly as she could. She groaned in appreciation when Darien ran his hands over her fabric-covered breasts and down the front of her body. She floundered with the buttons of his shirt. She was almost convinced she was going to have to rip it open when the little pearl wheels gave under her fingers and she was able to reach inside and run her hands over his smooth chest. Darien groaned now, his hands clutching her hair tightly before moving down to work on her zipper. Maureen pulled away from his wonderful mouth long enough to find his nipple with her lips. She closed her mouth over it and flicked it with her tongue. Darien gasped and shuddered. Suddenly, Maureen felt something very cold on her back. She straightened to ask Darien what he was up to when he pulled away.
"Oh crap!"
The only light in the room came from the tiny gap between the curtains. She reached out in the dark, trying to find him. "Darien, what..?"
"Oh crap oh crap oh crap!" Darien muttered, backing further away.
Maureen was a bit dazed with lust, but she'd never had that kind of effect on a man before, she was sure. "Darien, what is it?" She reached out again and brushed something like ice.
"No! Don't! I--!" He grumbled something she couldn't quite make out. "Just...give me a minute."
"It something wrong?" She was becoming more concerned.
"Oh, no, not really," Darien said in a strained voice. "Which may be the problem."
"Darien, I don't understand." Maureen felt along the wall for a switch. "Here. Let's get a little light on the subject."
He grabbed her arm from the dark. "No! It's not--!"
This was ridiculous. She was standing in pitch black, talking to a man who had just pulled away from her like she was electrified. "Darien, what is the matter?" Maureen insisted. "I mean, things were going very well, I thought. Weren't they?"
She heard a soft, dismayed sigh. "Yes, they were...good. Very, very good."
"Then what--?"
"Hold on." She heard movement, then, "There. Much better." He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "Now," he murmured roguishly, "where were we?"
"Darien, you can't just--" Her protest was lost when he covered her mouth with his. For a moment, she was annoyed with him. How dare he pull a stunt like that and expect her to just pick up where they left off? But his lips and tongue were insistent. Soon, her zipper was undone and he was stroking the skin of her back. It went more slowly now. They weren't frantically pawing at each other and maybe that was good. They could take their time and savor each moment. Perhaps that's what Darien had done. Good Lord! Had he been ready to peak so quickly? Maybe he needed to break away.
Maureen pulled his shirt out of his waistband and tossed it away. His skin felt like fire. She ran her hands over his chest, his back, his arms, tactilely memorizing every inch of his torso. She leaned in and pulled his earlobe into her mouth, sucking it lightly. She felt his breath, hot and rapid, on her shoulder. Darien pulled her dress down past her shoulders. Maureen stopped caressing his body long enough to slip her arms out. Darien slid the dress down her body, letting it fall to the floor. Maureen felt it puddle around her feet. She considered picking it up, but decided what she was doing right now far more important. Let the dry cleaner press it.
Darien bent down and began to kiss her chest. He fondled her breasts through the fabric of her bra. Maureen gasped and arched her back, giving him more and better access. Suddenly, Darien picked her up out of the pool of black fabric at her feet, found the bed, and settled her on it. She wasn't a petite person. She couldn't remember the last time someone had picked her up. She was charmed beyond measure now and reached up through the inky blackness to caress his face. Darien took one of her fingers into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Maureen sighed with ecstasy.
He lay on top of her and kissed her again--long, wet, and passionate. Maureen reached down and gripped his rear, pulled his hips closer to hers. She could feel how hard he was. She wanted to free his cock from his heavy pants and guide it to where it would do the most good. She gripped Darien's waist tightly between her thighs and rolled them both over so she was sitting on him. She could hear his ragged breaths in the darkness. She wanted to see him, too, but first things first. She found his belt buckle and slowly unfastened it, inching down to give herself more room to work. Darien moaned beneath her and Maureen smiled in the dark. She bent down and found his chest with her mouth. She worked her way down his stomach as she undid his pants and pulled his fly open. 12 more inches of tummy skin and she would drive him insane with her mouth. She tugged his pants down a bit and reached inside his boxers.
Darien gasped, then groaned long and low. Maureen could feel the curly coarseness of his pubic hair. She could smell the saltiness of his cock. Her hand felt his hard prick and pulled it free. She stroked him, enjoying the feel of velvety skin moving over the stiff shaft. Darien groaned again. Maureen found the tip with her lips, then swallowed him whole.
The cold sensation was back. Only this time, it felt like his left leg was made of ice. Maureen pulled Darien out of her mouth and wondered what was happening now. Darien began to buck under her. "Get off!" he rasped. "Please! Off!" Maureen quickly backed away and felt Darien scramble away from her. Not again.
"Darien, what is going on?" She leaned across the bed to find him. She touched his arm. Darien yanked away from her. So forcefully that he threw himself off the bed. There was a series of thuds and thumps. "Darien, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," came the wistful answer from the floor.
Maureen had had enough. She walked across the bed on her knees to the lamp on the bedside table. "Darien, I don't know what's going on here, but--"
"No!" he cried. Don't turn on the light."
"Don't be silly. This has gone on long enough." She heard frantic scrambling on the floor. By the time she found the lamp and twisted the switch, Darien was half under the bed. From the chest up, he was lying on the floor, looking at her. The rest of him, including his arms, was under the bed. Maureen glared down at him from her hands and knees. "What is going on?" she demanded. She wasn't feeling playful any more.
Darien shrugged, but otherwise didn't move. "Nothing."
Now she was annoyed. "Darien, most men about to receive a blow job--a spectacular blow job, I might add--do not run away in fear."
He was shiny with sweat and breathing heavily. "I'm not afraid of a--of you."
"Then why are you hiding under the bed?"
"I...um...have a...problem."
"I can see that!"
"It's a...medical problem."
That made her pause, but just for a moment. It was entirely possible he was pulling a fast one. Cautiously, she asked, "What's wrong?"
"I... I can't tell you."
"That's it!" Maureen climbed off the bed and retrieved her dress from the floor. She surveyed the damage. She was going to have to pay the dry cleaner for nothing. "Darien, I think you should go." He looked at her, pain and loss etching his face. Well, she certainly wasn't going to fall for that! "Now!"
It occurred to her that this was probably quite a sight. There she was, in her bra, underwear, and hose, still wearing her Italian pumps, her hair tousled every which way. And she was yelling at a half-naked man trying to hide under her bed. It was like some bad English bedroom farce. She was sure the humor of this situation would occur to her some time. But at the moment, she was angry and frustrated.
When he didn't move, she demanded, "Well?"
"I just need a minute," he replied sheepishly.
"A minute for what, Darien? Please. Leave."
After a long moment, he finally pulled himself out from under the bed and stood. He picked up his shirt and slipped it on, then put on his jacket. He stood in the entry hall of her room, unbuttoned, rumpled, chagrined. She would have found him adorable if she weren't so thoroughly pissed off at him. Maureen put her hands on her hips and glared at him, too angry to think about covering up.
"Maureen, I'm--"
"What?" she snapped.
"I'm really sorry."
The fact that he really meant it caught her off guard. She was too stunned to say anything else as he looked at her body, sighed, and quietly left her hotel room.

It took her a long time to fall asleep. She tossed and turned and stared into the dark for the longest time. She thought that perhaps masturbating would take some of the edge off, but she found the pressure of her fingers annoying. When morning came, Maureen was still frustrated, still angry, and hung over to boot.
She went about the steps of her day in a black mood. She snapped at Harriet and her designer. She nearly lost her temper with her high-maintenance customer. Her laptop crashed once. All in all, this day was a dramatic contrast to the previous day. Well, until Darien's weird rebuff.
She looked at the clock and considered lunch. Her stomach hadn't been ready for breakfast and, after consideration, it still wasn't ready. She should eat something. She was feeling light-headed. Perhaps some soup. Maybe room service could bring up some broth. Her cell phone warbled. Irritated, she snatched it up and barked, "What?"
There was silence, then, "Maureen?"
It took her a moment to place the voice. When she did, she felt new annoyance wash over her. "What do you want, Darien?"
"I wanted to apologize. For last night."
He certainly sounded remorseful. Unfortunately for Darien, Maureen wasn't in a forgiving mood. "Yes, well, maybe it was a bad idea."
"No!" he said quickly. "It wasn't. I mean, I-- It wasn't you, Maureen. It was me."
Was he really using one of the oldest excuse lines on her? She sighed with impatience. "Darien, look--"
"Let me make it up to you," he pleaded. "Let me take you out to dinner again."
And end the evening like we did last night? No, thank you. "I don't think that's a good plan, Darien."
"I know you're upset."
"How could you tell?" It was a cheap shot. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. But Maureen decided she didn't care.
"Maureen, please--"
"Darien, I have to go. I have a lunch meeting to prepare for tomorrow and a customer who is driving me crazy. It was nice to see you. Maybe another time."
"But I--"
She pressed the power button and dropped the phone on the table. Maybe another time? She was more hungover than she thought. Her head hurt, her stomach growled, and she felt very tired. Maybe if she took a little nap, the day would improve. At least it couldn't hurt. Maureen slid from her chair to the bed and dozed off on top of the covers.

The nap did help. Maureen woke two hours later, feeling infinitely better. She wasn't even as angry as she was that morning. She decided she felt up to food and placed a call to room service. As she was climbing out of the shower, there was a knock at the door. She let the bellhop in, tipped him well, and settled down for some creamy mushroom soup. She checked in with Harriet. Her problem customer was finally satisfied. It was as though the nap had magically solved most of her problems. She'd have to try that more often.
She stood in the bathroom, bent over, aiming her hairdryer at the back of her head, when she thought she heard her phone ringing. She switched off the dryer to listen. Yes, it was definitely ringing. She hurried to the phone just as it fell silent. It could have been Shaw's secretary, calling to confirm her lunch appointment. Maureen reached for the receiver and the phone jangled again. It startled her and she scooped up the phone before the ring died.
"Yes?"
"Ms. Silver? This is Roberto at the front desk."
"Yes?"
"You have a...delivery here, ma'am."
"A delivery?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Who is the world would be sending a delivery to her at this hotel? "All right. I'll pick it up this evening."
She heard a muffled exchange. Then, "Actually, Ms. Silver, I think you need to...sign for it."
She pursed her lips, irked. "Can't you sign for me? I can pick it up later."
Another muffled conversation. What was going on? "I think you need to accept this delivery now, ma'am."
"Oh, for--" Maureen counted to ten, reminding herself not to take her annoyance out on the hotel staff. "Fine. I'll be down in five minutes."
Her hair was still damp and she had no make-up on. She pulled on a pair of dress slacks and a cotton sweater. The delivery person was just going to have to accept her as is. She grabbed her key card and went to the elevator. She stepped into the lobby, feeling a little self-conscious about how she looked. But it was an odd time of day and, thankfully, the lobby was fairly empty. She made straight for the main desk. A stocky young man wearing a brass nametag proclaiming "Roberto" greeted her.
"I'm Maureen Silver. You said I had a delivery."
"Yes, ma'am. You do." Roberto looked past her shoulder and nodded to someone behind her. Maureen turned, ready to sign for this thing and get back to her room. She started. Darien stood there, his arms behind his back. His friend, Robert Hobbes, hovered a few feet behind him.
Well, this was just ducky. Here she was, not really put together, facing the last person she wanted to see at the moment. She smoothed her wet hair, steeled herself, and said, "Darien."
He smiled tentatively and took a step toward her. "Sorry about that. I wanted to see you."
So this whole thing was his idea? She moved through annoyed straight to peeved. "Fine. You've seen me. Now if you'll excuse me..." She walked past him, heading for the elevators.
"Maureen! Wait! Please?"
She sighed and stopped to face him. "What is it, Darien?"
He shuffled his feet, looking very uncomfortable. She was glad. It was small and mean of her, but she was beyond caring at this point. Darien pulled a bouquet from behind his back and handed it to her. It was an artful spray of lilies and orchids. It was lovely and obviously expensive. Maureen loved orchids and wondered how Darien could have possibly known. He couldn't, she reminded herself. A stroke of luck on his part. The flowers were pink and white and yellow. Their fragrance was sweet and subtle. Maureen grudgingly felt her heart melt a bit.
"I wanted to at least give you these," he said quietly.
"Darien, I... They're beautiful. Thank you." Was she really going to be won by a bunch of flowers? Maureen thought about it and decided it was a possibility.
Bobby appeared at Darien's arm. "Can we go now?" he muttered impatiently. Then he turned a bright smile to Maureen. "How are you today, Maureen?"
"Give me a minute," Darien told him.
"We have to go, Fawkes."
"I know! Could you just-- Gimme a minute. Okay? One minute."
"We're going to be late," Bobby reminded him.
Darien's cool was slipping. "Fine. We'll be late."
"He won't like it."
"Hobbes!" Darien turned to face the other man fully. "Wait for me, okay? Over there." He pointed to the far side of the lobby. When Bobby didn't move, Darien gave him a little push and urged, "Go. Now."
Maureen watched the two with growing amusement. She got the distinct impression that Darien was going to face a lot of ribbing later. It was sweet that he was willing to go through that to apologize. He hadn't won her over yet, but he groveled nicely.
Bobby graced her with another warm grin. "Nice to see you again." And he left. Darien sighed with annoyance, ran a hand through his hair, then turned to her.
"I'm sorry about that," he hitched a thumb in the direction of his retreating friend.
Maureen suppressed a smile. "That's all right."
"Look, I... I can't tell you how sorry I am. About last night. I...well, I feel badly and...I just wanted you to know that."
His stammering and discomfort were cute beyond words. Maureen kept her poker face while cradling the bouquet. He was trying so hard. She was finding him wildly attractive again and quickly squelched that thought. "Perhaps it wasn't meant to be. Maybe we're just not..." She searched for the word. Darien stepped close to her, closing the conversation to the two of them.
"No, it wasn't... I mean, I wanted to. You're...God, Maureen, you're beautiful."
He was so naked in his sincerity that she didn't know what to say. His eyes begged for her forgiveness. She had to fight the urge to kiss him. And his face, his expression! What did her friends call it? The hurt puppy look? If this was all an act, she was in the presence of a consummate pro.
"Friends?" he begged.
Well, damn. She felt all her resolve about staying angry with him melt away. She allowed a shadow of the smile. "Yes. I can live with that."
Relief washed over Darien's features. "Let me buy you dinner."
She stiffened. "Oh, Darien, I don't know..."
"Just dinner. Please? It's the least I could do."
The least he could do? Several naughty thoughts about the least he could do scampered through Maureen's mind. She quickly shooed them away. "Just dinner?"
"Yes. If that's what you--yes."
Maybe this was a good idea. They could have a nice dinner, relax, and try to forget the previous evening's debacle. Maybe sex with Darien--as lovely as the theory might be--wasn't the best goal. Maybe they could really be friends. "Dinner would be nice," she relented.
Darien broke into a big, silly grin. "Great! When?"
"Tonight is pretty much the only night I have left in town."
"Tonight it is, then. 8 o'clock?"
"Let's try a new time. Say 7."
"7. I'll pick you up here." He fidgeted for a second, then dropped a peck on her cheek. He then turned and hurried across the lobby. "See you tonight," he called.
Maureen waved and smiled as he left. Bobby hustled after him and they both disappeared through the revolving doors. She bent her neck and inhaled the aroma of the flowers. Yes. Being friends with Darien might just be the best way to go.

Two friends going out to dinner. This was better. No pressure, no complications. Maureen put her flowers in her room's ice bucket with some water. Then she finished drying her hair and pulled the sides up in a barrette. She decided dressing down was the way to go and pulled a pair of jeans out of her bag. Her white cotton blouse was still clean, if a bit wrinkled from a meeting. She put her simple pearl earrings on and slid her bare feet into a comfy pair of flats. She felt relaxed and much better. This was going to be nice.
Darien pushed through the lobby door at exactly seven. He was wearing a black sport shirt and black slacks with a battered black leather coat. He'd made an effort to dress for her. They smiled and greeted each other with chaste kisses. He took her to a tiny bistro along a canal. The food was simple but good. Maureen decided to forgo drinks but didn't begrudge Darien his two beers. It was pleasant evening. Darien was making every effort to be sweet and accommodating. When he suggested an after dinner stroll by the water, Maureen was pleased to go along.
The pedestrian walkway was curving and landscaped pleasingly. They walked together in silence for a while before Maureen spoke. "So, were you too late for your appointment?"
"Appointment? Oh, that. It was just a...meeting with my boss."
"You work with Bobby?"
"Oh yeah. He's my partner."
"I hope your boss wasn't upset with you, being late."
"Nah, it's okay. We're late a lot."
"Hmmm..."
They fell quiet again, the only sounds coming from the water and their footfalls on the pavement. A piece of conversation from a distant couple drifted along the night breeze. Maureen was at a loss for what to say. She had exhausted all her polite talk during dinner. They'd both steered well clear of the subject of the previous night, but now she felt it hanging heavy between them. They strolled in growing discomfort. Finally, Maureen couldn't take it any more. "Darien..."
"Uh, Maureen," he said at exactly the same time. They were doing it again. They both chuckled at the situation, diffusing some of the tension. "Go ahead," he told her.
"No, that's okay. You go."
They paused on a footbridge. Darien leaned a hip against the rail. "Maureen, I, uh, well... Tonight was nice."
"Yes," she agreed, stepping closer to him. "It was very nice."
"Maybe we can...keep in touch, after you go home."
She smiled. "I would like that. Do you have e-mail?"
He shook his head. "Don't even have a computer."
Maureen grinned, then feigned shock. "No computer? In the 21st century? That is blasphemy!"
He smiled at her joke. "Yes, I know computers are your business. I hope you can forgive me."
The lights from across the canal were hitting his face in just the right way to make the most of his features. His expression was soft and open. Yes, she could forgive him. For a lot of things. She took another step closer. "I'll think about it," she murmured lightly.
Their eyes linked and they stood silently, looking into each other. He was very sweet. And kind. Age had done wonders for the Bad Boy from Alexander High. Without awareness, Maureen leaned forward. Darien was leaning, too. He was going to kiss her. Or she him. And it wasn't going to be a chaste peck like in the lobby. Maureen felt a stirring between her legs and closed her eyes. On the screen of her inner lids, the image of Darien peeking at her from under her hotel bed flickered. That did it. The spell shattered, she took a breath and jerked her head back. She'd moved too quickly. She could see the disappointment in his eyes. What happened to being friends? Oh hell. Maureen was suddenly flustered.
"I'm sorry", she said, backing up, putting a safe space between them. "I didn't mean to... I shouldn't have..."
He smiled ruefully. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."
"No, it's not okay. I..." She huffed a sigh and turned from him, resting her hands on the railing. "Damn."
"Maureen, it really is okay." He stood beside her and mirrored her posture.
She glanced at him sideways. "Are you sure?"
"Yup. Not a problem."
"Still friends?"
He turned his head to her and smiled broadly. "I sure hope so."
They were letting each other of the hook. Relieved, Maureen smiled back. Hormonal reactions aside, she honestly did like Darien. He was a good man. She hoped they could keep their promise to stay friends. They walked back to his car and went for a drive. Darien had obviously lived in San Diego for a while and he played the tour guide, pointing out all the sites of interest. It was a pretty city by night and Maureen enjoyed the ride. As they passed through an industrial section, he mentioned that his apartment was near by.
"Really? Do you live in a loft?"
"A converted warehouse, yeah."
Maureen had long secretly coveted lofts. While the units in her part of the Valley were frightfully expensive, she hoped that one day she would be able to own one. A big open space with old brick and ceiling beams. She'd spent many Saturdays going to loft space open houses, yearning for the day when one of those fabulously funky places would be hers. "May I see it?"
"My apartment?"
"Yes. That is, if it's okay."
He hesitated. Maybe his place was a wreck. Most single men she knew weren't well versed in the concepts of house keeping. She wouldn't press the point if he didn't want to. But Darien shrugged and said, "Sure."
He pulled in front of a low, two-storied building. Maureen peered up through the windshield. The windows were the large industrial kind that pivoted on a center point. It looked promising. Darien opened the car door for her and escorted her up.
His place was small but nice. A shelf filled with books stood by the door. A round table divided the entry way from the living area. A small kitchen area to her left had a few dirty dishes on the counter, but nothing that would call out the health department riot wagon. One wall was old red brick. Beside it was a small sitting area. The rest of the walls were sheetrock, but Maureen was captivated. Not as large as she hoped to have, but the old wood floors creaked comfortingly under her feet. Overall, Darien kept a pretty neat home. She gazed around the room, soaking in the architecture.
Darien draped his jacket over one of the chairs around the table. "Would you like something? Coffee? Beer?"
"Tea, if you have it," Maureen told him, too distracted by the space to pay too much attention. She walked to the window and looked out. The immediate view wasn't much, but she could see the city glitter in the distance. A wonderful breeze came through the huge window. She heard Darien clattering around in the kitchen but was too preoccupied by the bricks. She examined the wall closely. They were indeed old and a rich, deep red. She could see hallmarks stamped into some. She crouched down to see the floorboards better. The flooring was new, she was disappointed to find, but underneath she had no doubt that aged knotty pine was supporting her weight. The space was great.
Darien came to her, holding two mugs. She took the tea and sampled it. Orange pekoe. Not fancy, but good. Darien sank onto the couch, but Maureen continued to stand, looking around with a mixture of wonder and envy.
"Maureen?"
"Huh?"
"Would you sit down, please? You're making me nervous."
She realized she was being less than a gracious guest and giggled nervously. "I'm sorry. It's just that you're place is wonderful."
"Really? I hadn't thought much about it."
She sat next to him. "How did you find it?"
"An ad in the paper."
She swiped at his shoulder playfully. "Come on. How did you land a fantastic space like this?" She spent the next 20 minutes grilling him on the details of his loft. While he was surprised at her interest, Darien kindly indulged her. He even took her on a little tour of his place. She scanned the spines of his books. Darien was quite an eclectic reader. He had a broad range from classical English literature to modern American authors. Then she met his rat.
"You named the rat after yourself?" She thought that odd.
"I didn't name him. Someone else did. I...liberated him."
"Uh, okay..."
She excused herself to use his restroom. Once she shut the door, she checked her watch. It was getting late. She should probably have Darien take her back to her hotel. She had her lunch meeting with Shaw the next day, and then she had to catch her shuttle back to the Valley. There was a lot of work to do for the Coastal website. She had to assemble a team, get some initial specs drawn up, and engage in many phone conferences that would no doubt lead to another trip south. She smiled. Maybe she and Darien could get together again. She'd like to go to the beach. Maureen hadn't been to a beach in years.
She used the toilet, washed her hands, and exited the bathroom refreshed. Darien was waiting for her, standing in the middle of his apartment. She noticed that he carried off the all-black look very well, with his height and slender build. No, she couldn't think those things. They were friends, and it was best left at that. "I should be getting back," she told him reluctantly.
"Yeah, it's getting late." He took the mugs to the kitchen and set them in the sink. When he rejoined her, he stood close to her. Too close. "I'll drive you back to...the hotel."
Of course, she was standing too close to him as well. "Yes. That would be good. I had a really nice time tonight."
He smiled, staring at her. "I'm glad."
She stared back. Her hormones were back, in force. He was so damned attractive, in an offbeat kind of way. He had worked so hard throughout the evening to put her at ease and make up for the night before. If it weren't for the specter of his strange behavior, she would have thrown caution to the wind and kissed him hard. And, at that moment, with the sexual energy crackling between them, kissing Darien seemed like a very sensible thing to do. Suddenly, she was kissing him. When did this happen? They were going to be friends. Just friends. But the part of her mind that was enjoying this kiss told the sensible part of her mind to shut the hell up.
Okay. One more minute and she was going to break this up. No sense starting what couldn't be finished. Because last night, he... He had... Darien had done something. It was becoming more difficult to remember what exactly. His lips and tongue danced with her mouth and effectively shut down her left brain. His arms were wound around her waist, holding her tight. She pushed her fingers into his hair. It was shaggy and had some styling product in it. After she raked her hand through it a few times, the stickiness went away.
All right. She couldn't kiss him any more. Fun was fun, but she did have to get back to her hotel. To her own bed. Because she was becoming keenly aware that Darien's large bed was mere feet away. And no one wanted a repeat of last night. Because that would be... Oh God! Darien had left her mouth and was working on her throat, kissing, nipping, and licking. She could get used to him doing that. His mouth felt wonderful over her pulse point, over her windpipe, in the crook between her collarbones. He had to stop. Right now.
"Darien?" she murmured blissfully. Not quite the authoritative demand she'd hoped for, but what did she expect? One of his hands had left her waist and was massaging her butt.
"Hmmm?" he mumbled against her neck, the vibration of his voice sending a thrill down her spine and through her pelvis. At some point, he's worked the back of her shirt out of her jeans and was running a hand over her bare back.
"We really should...um...stop."
He pulled back enough to look at her. It was a good thing he was holding her so tight. Her knees felt rubbery. Desire made his eyes glitter. "Do you want to?"
"No. I mean, we, uh..." Oh hell. She wasn't making any sense. "What about last night?"
That sobered him a bit. He looked away, considering something very carefully "I talked to my...doctor. She said there was something I could do."
She cursed the surge of excitement she felt at that news. But he still held her to him, hip to hip, stomach to stomach.
"Unless you really don't want to."
Stopping now would be the sensible thing. They had broken the kiss and had a moment to collect their wits. They could end this evening on a pleasant note and continue their platonic relationship. No harm, no foul. But Maureen had spent her whole life being sensible. Standing there, holding Darien, the memory of his mouth making her neck tingle, sensible seemed highly overrated. She licked her lips and asked, "What can you do?"
Darien smiled and released her. Maureen had to put a foot behind her to brace herself. He went to his jacket and pulled something from the pocket. He returned, holding a small square packet in his hand. For a second, she thought it was a condom. But the packet was too flat. She looked at him, the question in her eyes.
"It's a nitro glycerin patch," he explained.
Some of his weird behavior made sense now. Guilt flooded her chest, making it tight and hard to breathe. "Oh, Darien. I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you had a heart condition."
"It's not a heart condition. It's a...glandular problem. But this should help."
Maureen had an uncle who had to take nitro. He often complained of headaches afterward. She frowned and the little paper envelope. "Are you sure about this? I don't want to do anything that's going to--"
She didn't get to finish. Darien grabbed her around the waist and kissed her. From the insistence of his tongue, she guessed she was the only one having misgivings. When he pulled his head away, her head was pleasantly addled once again. "What do we do?"
"I have to put this on." He put the patch between his teeth and released her. He then pulled his shirt over his head. Maureen got to see what she had only felt last night. His chest was smooth. He was thin but muscular, built like a runner. She put a hand on each pec, feeling how firm and soft his skin was. He tore open the packet, using his teeth, and withdrew a small square patch. It looked like a fabric bandage. Maureen still wasn't so sure, but the nudge she got from something below Darien's belt chased her doubts away.
"Let me," she said, taking the patch from him. "Where do I put this?"
"Right here," he told her, pointing to his chest over his heart. Maureen bent forward and kissed the spot. Darien sighed and nuzzled her hair. She peeled off the backing and stuck the patch into place. She smoothed it with her hand. And continued rubbing the spot. "How's that?"
"Very nice," he muttered roughly, sweeping her into another kiss. She let the paper backing flutter out of her hand and pulled him tight against her. She melded her body to his, pressing the full length of her against his tall form. Darien yanked the rest of her blouse out of her jeans, pulling his chest away to give himself enough room to undo her buttons. He groaned into her mouth when she reached down and stroked him through his pants.
He fought with her shirt for a moment before finally getting it off her. He pulled her tight to him again, one hand massaging her rump, the other fumbling with the hooks of her bra. She could feel how ready he was. It reminded her. One clear thought bobbed to the surface of her lust-filled fog. "Darien?"
"Yeah?" he whispered. He was looking over her shoulder, down her back. He was having trouble with her bra clasp.
She smiled, both at his predicament and the way his large hand worked her ass. "I need to get to my purse."
"Purse?"
"I need to get something out of my purse."
He pulled suddenly away and looked at her. "Oh! You mean...for...you?"
His bashful stuttering was cute. "Actually, for you."
"Me?" He blinked, confused. Then he got it. "Oh! That's okay." He swooped in and kissed her.
Okay? What was he talking about? Maureen pushed against his chest, having some difficulty because he didn't want to surrender her lips and she didn't really want him to. She managed to say his name before being smothered with more kisses. "I need to--"
"It's okay," He whispered breathlessly against her mouth. "I've got it."
"You do?"
"Uh-huh."
"Where?"
"My night stand."
Oh. Well, that made perfect sense. She devoured his lips and hooked one leg around his. His hands were everywhere, occasionally detouring to the back of her bra to have another go at the hooks. She ran her hands through his hair, down his back, across his belly, and over his butt. She could spend hours just feeling him. She could feel the muscles in his back move as his worked his hands over her. The two sensations were making her head spin. "Wait," Maureen gasped against his neck.
"What is it? What's wrong?" His sudden concern for her, his sudden focus on her, was touching. Maureen held on to his shoulders for support.
"Nothing's wrong. I'm just dizzy."
Darien broke into a sly smile. "Would you like to lie down?"
Maureen felt her mouth match his smile. "My thoughts exactly."
He kissed her again, but gently this time. While still holding her to him, he walked her over to the bed. The frame bumped against her leg.
"Here we are," he told her.
"Oh good." Maureen put a knee on the mattress.
"Need any help?"
She smiled wickedly. "I don't. But you might." She scooted across the mattress, out of easy reach, and sat on her legs. Darien nodded and smiled approvingly. He crawled across the mattress on his hands and knees, pausing a moment before touching his mouth to hers. Maureen reached between his arms and caressed his chest. Yes, she could spend hours just doing that. Perhaps later. With a quick movement, she pulled his left arm out from under him, toppling him onto the bed. Darien squawked in surprise, then again when she straddled his waist. His hair was in every direction. He looked utterly adorable. She wanted him desperately.
"You were having a bit of trouble with this," she said, reaching behind her. To be fair, it was an unusual hook system. Designed to stay closed during sports and strenuous activities. But let him think that he was having trouble unhooking a simple bra. She undid the closure and shrugged out of the straps. Then she pulled with simple cotton cups away. Darien lay under her for a long while, gazing contentedly at her breasts. Then he sat up. His mouth was at just the right level and he kissed the valley between her breasts. His hand cupped her left one gently, his thumb flicking across her nipple. Maureen sighed and stroked his hair. His mouth kissed and licked her other breast. She was beginning to love the way his mouth worked. While she could spend hours touching and petting him, she hoped he could spend hours working magic with his tongue.
He was quick as well. Maureen suddenly found herself on her back, with Darien smiling down at her. "Oh, hello."
He grinned and reached down, pressing his fingers between her legs and through the heavy denim of her jeans. A bolt of electric sensation rocketed up to her brain from her clit. Maureen gasped loudly and closed her eyes. He kissed her breasts again, then her belly. He kept moving down, down... Oh God yes. Maureen wasn't sure if she said it or thought it. Darien unsnapped and unzipped her jeans, easily pulling them off. She kicked her flats off so he wouldn't hit any snags. Now there was just the thin cotton of her panties between her and that wonderful mouth of his. She could feel him breathing on her thighs. Maureen realized that she'd been holding her breath and let it out in a rush.
Darien kissed and caressed her thighs, keeping away from her most sensitive spot. He was doing it on purpose and it had the desired effect. She was squirming after a few minutes of his attentions. If he didn't get to her hot spot soon, she was convinced she would explode. He peeled her panties off, leaving her completely naked and exposed to him. The idea thrilled her and she parted her legs to give him access. In the next moment, his mouth was on her. Maureen cried out and brought her hips off the bed. His mouth stayed with her until she settled back down. He worked her with his lips and fingers, kissing and stroking her into oblivion. She was going to cum quickly if he didn't ease up. Which he didn't. Darien relentlessly licked and sucked her labia and clit. The orgasm was building. Maureen gave herself over to the sensations, panting and moaning under him.
"Oh! Yes...oh God, Darien, yes!"
It hit her with the force of a storm, making her scream and her body taut. She may have cried out his name. She may have given up state secrets. She couldn't remember and couldn't care. The waves of pleasure slammed into her, Darien's persistent, beautiful mouth carrying her. She collapsed against the bedclothes, shuddering and twitching. He gently tended to her, using his lips and tongue as she came down. When she lay under him in a purring puddle, he kissed the joint of her thigh and pulled away. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, doing something. From the thumps, it sounded like he was taking his shoes off. He was gone briefly. She didn't know where. She was having trouble focusing her vision. Then he was there again, sliding down next to her. She could feel he was completely naked. She reached over and rested her hand on his hip.
"I could have helped you with that," she slurred.
He nuzzled her ear. "No problem. I didn't want to disturb you."
She could smell herself on his face. She took her head in her hands and guided his mouth to hers. He had wiped his face, but she could still taste her juices on him. That excited her again. The post-orgasm fugue lifted and she was ready again. She put her leg around his waist and drew him close. His cock was rigid and hot against her leg. She took it in her hand and massaged the shaft. Darien groaned into her mouth again.
"Where are these condoms of which you spoke?" she asked, delighting in his turn for pleasure.
"The drawer...night stand," he managed before moaning again. She released him (smiling at his disappointed sigh) long enough to sit up and poke into the drawer. A book of Whitman poems. Nail clippers. Tissues. Ah, there they were. Three bright orange packets, tucked into a far corner. Only three? I may need to get to my purse after all, she though wickedly. She separated one from the others and turned back to Darien.
He ran his fingers over her back. "If you need a moment..."
She stilled him by planting a kiss on his lower belly. Before he could react, she took the tip of his cock into her mouth, running her tongue over the sensitive end. Darien's reaction was immediate and electric. He grabbed the back of her head. Instead of pushing, as one lover had done to her, he opened the barrette, tossed it away, and tangled his fingers in her hair. She was able to smile, even with her mouth full, and returned his oral favor for a few minutes before deftly rolling the condom on to his erection. Another old lover taught her how to do that. She thanked him silently and she got into position over Darien. Guiding him with her hand, she lowered herself onto his stiff cock.
He slid into her easily, her channel already slick from her orgasm. Darien shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. She rose slowly, then eased back down. He felt delicious inside her. Darien held her hips and opened his eyes.
Maureen always found it difficult to look into the eyes of her lovers. Even with the college boyfriend with whom she'd discussed marriage, that was one barrier she couldn't cross. It was too intimate, too personal. But she found herself looking deeply into Darien's eyes as she rode him. It left her feeling raw and bare and exhilarated. She fell into a nice rhythm, rising and falling, watching his face as the sensations rolled through him.
His was breathing faster. Maureen placed a hand on each side of his head, to change her angle and tempo. She wanted him to climax. She wanted him to feel as wonderful as he'd made her feel. He grunted and groaned now. He was very close. Then, he pressed his thumb to her swollen clit. Maureen cried and lost her pace for a moment, then regained her momentum. Her face was inches from his. They were both slicked with sweat and breathing hard. The sensations of being filled and stroked at the same time was going to get her there long before him. She tried to focus on other things. If she came again, she wasn't sure she was going to be able to take Darien with her.
Darien arched his back and squeezed his eyes shut, breaking the intense connection of their gaze. He gritted out her name twice before unleashing an animal growl. His hand jerked, pressing her clit harder. All of her control disintegrated. Maureen came again, harder than the last time. Darien went limp beneath her and she collapsed on top of him.
They stayed that way for a long time, a pile of gasping, sweating, tangled bodies. Maureen was able to move first. She lifted her head enough to look at him. She touched the patch on his chest. "How are you doing?"
He caught his breath with some effort. "At the moment," he panted, "pretty darn spectacular."
She chuckled against his chest. "I thought you might be feeling some adverse effects from this thing."
He shook his head vehemently and brought her mouth to his. His kiss was passionate but tender. She settled against his chest, listening to his heart beat slow and regulate. Darien held her to him. They stayed that way for a long, long time.

The day dawned very brightly through the large window of Darien's apartment. Maureen mumbled in protest and rolled away from the light. Darien was sleeping on his side, with his back to her. She looped her arm around his waist and tried to hide her eyes in his neck. But after several moments of inhaling his scent and trying to go back to sleep, she surrendered. She was up. May as well start the day.
She stretched languorously, like a cat. The joint of her jaw popped as she yawned. It was very nice to lie there, in the toasty bed, with all the blankets and a warm man to snuggle with. But she soon felt the antsy urge to get up and get moving. She slipped out of the sheets and tiptoed naked to the bathroom. She caught her reflection in the mirror. My, but she was quite a sight. Hair tangled every which way, her eyes and lips puffy from sleep. She grinned like a goof and turned on the faucet. The cold water felt good on her face. She rinsed out her mouth with a dab of toothpaste. She was able to tame her hair somewhat with her fingers. She really needed a brush. But it would do for now.
When she walked out of the bathroom, Darien was still sound asleep. She surveyed the damage from the night before. Their clothes were strewn everywhere. The bed had been knocked from its position aligned to the wall. Two opened condom packets were on the nightstand. The third was on the floor. Along with tissues wadded around the used products. Maureen smiled and scooped up the debris, dropping in the wastebasket in the bathroom. She walked around the bed and climbed back in. Her spot had started to grow cold. She pulled the covers up over her shoulders and scooted closer to Darien.
She didn't know if he snored. After the third round last night, they had both passed out. He could have played Souza marches on a tuba and she wouldn't have known. Of course, she strongly suspected that Darien had slept just as deeply as she had. She slid her hand around him and stroked his tummy. "Darien," she said quietly. He didn't respond. She tickled his abdomen. "Darien."
He grunted. Maureen leaned on her elbow and reached up to touch his ear. Darien groaned again. Okay. She was a morning person and he obviously was not. She tugged his earlobe playfully. His eyes fluttered open and it took him a long time to realize she was there. He slowly rolled onto his back.
"Good morning."
He moaned in response. She was about to tease him about being so slow to wake when she noticed something on his chest. "Oh no! Darien! Weren't you supposed to take that off?"
He scratched his chest absently until he hit the patch. He peeled it off and held it up so he could see. "Oh crap."
"My God, are you okay?"
"Yeah," he muttered. He tried to sit up. Then he grimaced in pain, put his hand to his face, and flopped back on the bed. "Well, maybe not okay."
If she remembered correctly, nitro glycerin was used to slow the body down. She remembered her uncle's headaches after one tiny pill. Darien's head must feel ready to split. She caressed his forehead. "What can I do?"
"Get the plate number of that truck."
"Can I call someone for you? Maybe your doctor?"
"No!" he said quickly, rising again. The pain knocked him back down. "No, don't call her. I'll be fine. Just...give me a few minutes."
She felt awful. Certainly, sex last night with Darien had been amazing. Wonderful, mind-blowing. But it couldn't have been good enough for him, considering the price he was paying now. "Darien, I'm so sorry."
He'd covered his eyes with his hand. "Don't be."
"But you feel terrible."
He peeked at her from under his palm. "That's okay. You were worth it."
Well, he was the sweetest thing. She was bending down to kiss him when the digital display of his clock caught her eye. "Oh my God! Is that the time?" She lunged across him and snatched up the clock. 9:53. "Oh no. Oh God! Darien, I have to go!" She threw back the blankets and shot out of the bed. Darien lay still while she dashed about, collecting her clothes and putting them on in a rush. "I can't be late for this meeting. Oh God! Shaw will hit the roof!"
"I'll drive you back," he said wearily, trying to push the covers away. Maureen hurried to the bed and stopped him.
"No, don't. You're sick. I can call a taxi."
"A cab from here to the hotel will cost a fortune. I'll--"
"Darien, no." She sat down beside him. "Please. I feel bad enough. Stay in bed. Call in sick."
"I--"
She shushed him with two fingers. "Please. Just rest. Do you need anything?"
"Not really. Look, Maureen, I don't want you to be late..." After a bit of struggle, he managed to prop himself up on one elbow. She didn't think his head was too happy about that, however.
"I won't be. I just need your phone book and your phone."
"Take my car."
That caught her off guard. "What?"
"Take my car. You're right, I'm not going to be able to give you a lift. But you shouldn't have to pay a mint just because I forgot to take the patch off last night."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure, I'm sure."
"But..."
"The keys are in my right jacket pocket."
Maureen went to his coat and found them right where she said. She was fairly confident she could find her way back to the hotel. If all else failed, there were maps. And the cell phone in her purse. Hopefully, the battery hadn't died while she had it switched off. She dashed back to the bed.
"Okay. I'll leave the keys with the concierge. You should be able to pick it up later." She felt time pressing her, but she didn't want to end their time together like this. She sat again and kissed him. "Thank you. Last night was wonderful. You were wonderful."
He managed a smile. "You were pretty fantastic yourself."
She grinned briefly then winced. "I have to go."
"I know."
"I'm sorry."
"Maureen, it's okay."
"Are you going to be all right? Are you sure I can't get you anything?"
"Just go," he urged kindly.
"Okay." She kissed him again, deeply, then hustled out the door.

Somehow, she was able not to get ticketed on her way back to the hotel. She charged into her room at 10:15. She would have time for a quick shower, but not time enough to wash her hair. She tore everything off and hopped into the tub. The next 30 minutes was spent in a mad race with the clock as Maureen tried to pull herself together enough to impress her new customer. She decided the brown linen dress and jacket would be appropriate. The chignon she twisted her hair into did a good job of disguising her lack of shampoo time. She didn't even change her watch or earring from the night before. As she bolted down the hall to the elevator, she realized her purse was a bit too casual. She hoped Shaw wasn't observant in the ways of fashion.
She used the drive to the restaurant to calm her rattled nerves. She was okay. She left the hotel on time. She hadn't been able to spend a lot of time on her look (which was rather severe, she noticed when checking her lipstick), but Shaw was old school. He might appreciate it. She left her keys with the valet and walked briskly into the restaurant. The hostess led her to a table where Shaw was seated. A waiter was bringing the old man a glass of water. Oh good. She was barely late.
The lunch went very well. Instead of being stuffy, as Maureen initially thought, Shaw turned out to be kindly and funny. Maureen poured on the charm and by the end of the meal had him wondering how he could have possibly considered any other company to design his bank's new website. She took copious notes as they spoke. She wanted to have as much information as she could. Combined with the thick folder Shaw gave her, Maureen knew she was good to go.
She returned to the hotel, feeling much more relaxed. She considered calling Darien to see how he was. She didn't want to disturb him, though. If he was still sick, he needed to sleep. But she had to leave for the airport in an hour and didn't think there would be enough time to stop by. By the time she got back to her room, she decided to risk a phone call. The red message light on her phone was lit. She called the desk.
"Yes, ma'am. A Mr. Fawkes called for you."
"Did he leave a number?"
"Yes, he did." The desk clerk read the numbers to her. She scrawled them across some hotel stationery, hung up, and quickly dialed Darien's number. The phone rang twice before he answered.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Darien. It's Maureen."
"Hi," he said warmly. He sounded better. "I was beginning to worry. I called over an hour ago."
"I know. I'm sorry. My lunch meeting ran long. How are you feeling?"
"Better. Still wiped out, but the headache is gone."
"I'm glad."
"'Course, I don't know if I'm wiped out from the nitro or you." There was a roguish tone in his voice that made her smile. She decided to play along.
"Really? Because I feel very good today."
"You do, huh?"
"Yes. I do feel fine."
"You sure do."
She giggled. "I bet you say that to all the girls."
"I don't," he said earnestly. The playful tone was gone. He was serious now. "Maureen, last night..." She wasn't sure what he was going to say. She dreaded it and yearned for it. She left him peace to put his sentence together, trying to put her own thoughts in order. "It was...very special for me. It meant a lot. I want to thank you for that."
Relief allowed her to breathe again. "It was special, Darien."
"Can I see you again?"
She wanted to see him again. At the moment, almost more than anything. But there was a charter flight leaving a commuter airfield in an hour and she wasn't sure exactly when her business would bring her back to San Diego. "I'd like to Darien. Very much. But..."
"Your job?"
"Well, yes. I just landed this large client that is going to occupy a lot of my time. And almost 5 hours is a hell of a commute for a visit."
"Oh."
One word, one syllable, loaded with so much disappointment. "Do you have my card?"
"In my hand."
"You can always reach me there."
She thought she heard him sigh. "That's true."
She needed to say something to cheer him up. "Coastal Bank is headquartered here. I'm sure I'll be back in town. I'd like to see you then, if you're available."
"You'll be back in San Diego?"
"I'm certain of it."
"I'd like to see you then, too." That sounded better.
"I'd really like that." She glanced at her watch. "I hate to do this, but I have to go. My flight leaves in an hour."
"Do you need a ride to the airport?" he asked hopefully.
"No, I have a rental. And I'm not leaving out of the commercial airport. I'm booked on a charter plane leaving Reginald Field. But, like I said, I'd leave your keys with the concierge. You can pick up your car from the north lot when you're feeling better. Thanks for the loan."
"For you, any time."
Maureen smiled. "I have to go. Thanks again for everything."
"No problem."
"And Darien?"
"Yeah?"
"I...I like you. I'm fond of you. I honestly hope we can be friends."
"Yeah," he said sincerely. "Me, too."

The flowers weren't going to travel well. Maureen settled for tucking one of the orchids in her hair. It most likely wouldn't survive the trip, but she wanted to take a piece of Darien with her. She returned her car without incident and made it to the field just as a truck was turning the small jet around to face the runway. The other ten passengers, all businessmen, climbed into the plane with their weekender bags and overcoats. Maureen waited at the end of the line. There was some confusion at the plane door about tickets and the line ground to a halt. Maureen set her bag and briefcase on the tarmac to wait.
She thought she heard her name. With the wind and the sounds of various planes, she thought that maybe her ears were playing tricks on her. But she heard it again and turned to see who could be calling her. Darien jogged around the outdoor baggage claim rack and came straight to her. He stopped, breathless and smiling, in front of her.
"Darien?" she had to yell over the noises. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you off," he shouted back.
He still looked a little pale, but better than this morning. She was going to ask him how he found her until she recalled their last conversation. Sweet, charming, and observant. She smiled back. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know." He shrugged. "I wanted to."
The line started to move again. Maureen picked up her luggage. "I have to go."
"What?" he yelled, cupping a hand to his ear.
"I have to go," she hollered. But she couldn't leave him like this. Not standing on the tarmac of this dingy little airport, the wind tugging his hair and clothes, looking forlorn. She set everything down again and embraced him. Then kissed him. What she planned on being a sweet goodbye kiss deepened as they stood holding each other. She tastes mint on his tongue. The noise of the airport faded away until she was only aware of the roar of blood in her ears. Memories of last night cascaded over her, making her wish they were somewhere private.
She was jolted out of her sensations by a firm tap on the shoulder. The flight steward glared at her. The line was gone. The plane was boarded and apparently ready to go. She blushed and turned to Darien. "I really have to go."
He smiled, a bit chagrined himself. "I'll call you."
"Yes. Please do."
"Have a safe trip."
"Thank you." She scooped everything up, gave him a quick peck, and hurried to the plane. Once inside, she saw the other passengers eyeing her with expressions ranging from disgust to amusement. Maureen settled into her seat and peeked out the window. Darien was still standing there. He waved. She waved back and blew him a kiss, which won her a large smile. The engines revved and the plane began to lumber away. Maureen watched until she couldn't see him any more. Once the small jet thundered down the runway and lifted into the air. Maureen continued to look out the window. Everyone on the plane wondered about the peaceful smile on her face.
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