Rated: R

Webb/Mac

Mac stumbles upon an interesting find after a bad day.

THE MOODY BLUES

What a week. I swear, I think Harm has absolutely slept with each and every female judge and juror within the system…maybe the men, too. I was fuming after a scathing loss in the courtroom that should’ve been my win without a thought. But once again, Harm gave one of those damned speeches…you know, the ones with harmonicas playing in the background and violins whining along…yep, one of those damned tear jerking speeches that doesn’t really address the facts, but freaking sways the jury. I was left pissed and humiliated as he smugly looked my way and gave me a nod. Bud and I stared, flabbergasted at the loss. Hell, everyone in the courtroom was left stunned with the verdict, all except the judge and jury. I just thanked God it wasn’t over a homicide.

I also thanked God that it was the weekend, and I could go a full two days without the sight of Harmon Rabb, Jr. When I arrived home, I fussed and fumed about the house trying to decide what to do to relieve some of the anger within me, and finally decided on a jog in the park, a quick clean up, and then to head to my favorite Mexican place for some fiery hot food.

The jog was uneventful, so was the clean up, as I showered and donned jeans and a black cotton top. It wasn’t fancy, but neither was the restaurant where I was headed. Once there, Pablo seated me with the usual eager attention he generally showed me.

"And how is the Colonel tonight?" He asked in his obvious Mexican accent.

I assured him that I was fine, and would like the extra hot salsa, the usual fajitas with jalapenos on the side, and plenty of tonic with lime. He nodded and gave me his personal smile as he left to place my order. As I sat and feasted on my dinner, I was aware that he made sure he wasn’t but a whisper away to tend to whatever need I had. I smiled at the young man, at least 10 years my junior, as he blushed when I told him he was a good kid.

When I left the restaurant, fully satisfied and starting to let the day leave my mind, I meandered around the streets, walking back towards my apartment. It was a nice cool evening, and the walk was quite pleasant. Taking my surroundings in as I strolled, I found myself on side streets that I was not totally familiar with. It was then that I saw the sign. It caught my attention as I passed the alley. Bright red and blue, with a trumpet and piano in neon, flickering from a light about ready to blow completely: the Moody Blues. Beneath the shimmering neon was another sign, illuminated by the light above, "live Jazz and Blues every night."

A smile crept across my face, and it was decided without a doubt; I was going to settle in for some gritty hometown jazz and blues, and let it drift me away from everything that was bothering me. I made my way to the hole-in-the-wall bar awaiting my presence.

I was in a hard piano riff as I pounded on the black and white keys before me. It was hot and steamy in the small bar, which lent to its authenticity as the four other players jammed with heart while we played to the small local crowd before us.

I found this place a year ago when I ran an op through here involving illegal arms deals and drugs. When we approached Job with the request to follow the leads that directed us to some patrons in his bar, he was gruff and surly. He looked at us in our three-piece suits and crisp white shirts, as he stood in his baggy jeans and black t-shirt, and instantly thought none of us able to blend in with his hard-core jazz and blues patrons. He laughed at us heartily, shaking his ample belly, and told us to get our Washington weenie asses out of the place, and let him tend to business. He assured us that if there was anything going on in his bar, he would take care of it himself, and that would be that.

As he was shuffling us out of his building, I slipped to the piano and started to pound out a little Duke Ellington. I was enjoying the sound of my impromptu concert when Job walked over and slammed his hand down hard on the piano. "Damn boy, if I didn’t have 20/20 vision, I’d swear you were some 50-year-old fat black man sitting behind that keyboard." I took that as a compliment as he flashed a bright white smile, appropriately adorned with one gold tooth against his black skin.

I smiled and nodded coolly to him as I continued to play, and asked, "So, what’s it gonna be, Job?" It was decided that I would be permitted to be within his property, and everyone else was to stay outside and well out of visual sight. I was going to play with the local bands, and mingle as needed with the patrons.

After a successful operation where we took into custody several persons involved with the illegal arms and drug dealings, I never left the Moody Blues. I found solace in playing, and in the anonymity. I enjoyed the dirty atmosphere that was a hundred and eighty degree turn from the type of crowd I was tossed into being a Webb and an agent. When I was here, pounding out riffs on the keys, and occasionally blending in on the sax, I was only me. After the op I didn’t mingle as much with the patrons, that’s not what I was here for. Between sets I would slip up to the far end of the bar away from the crowd and drink with Job or the band members, keeping pretty much to myself.

Thus, here I was this Friday eve playing the piano hard, and enjoying myself immensely after a long week of stiff meetings and even stiffer higher ups looking for results. When the drum player took over, and I eased off my keys, I ventured a look around. Typically, the bar was visited by the same patrons week in and week out, every now and again someone new would find it and give it a once over. When my eyes scanned the crowd, as my fingers danced along my keyboard, I was suddenly struck.

I paused slightly in my play as I caught the view of auburn hair and the profile of who could only be Sarah MacKenzie. She was sitting at the bar talking to none other than Job. When I recovered back to the band, I caught a questioning look from the bass player. It was hard to focus as my eyes kept stealing their way to look at her through the smoky din.

I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed working with Mac when I did. She was tenacious and incredibly intelligent. You can trust her with any job, and she’ll see it through to the fullest. I also couldn’t deny that I enjoyed looking at the Colonel, with her graceful neck, long legs, and incredible beauty. Never though, had I really gotten to know her outside of combined ops with JAG…this could be an interesting evening.

When I ventured in, I was pleased with the dirty smoke that mixed with the gravely jazz emanating from the band. I was instantly brought back to the days of my youth…the better days, when I enjoyed similar bars with Uncle Matt and listened to the honest play of amateur musicians.

As I took a seat at the bar, the large black man serving drinks sauntered over to me and gave me an inquiring look, "What can I get you?" I asked for a tonic and lime. He didn’t question my request lacking in alcohol, but when he returned he asked, "Haven’t seen you around, what brings you here?"

I smiled genuinely, knowing he was just truly interested in what would bring someone new to his place, "Bad week, bad day, saw your sign like a beacon in the night."

He gave me an equally genuine smile, followed by a hearty laugh that shook his whole body, "A beacon in the night? That’s a good one. Well, little lady, you enjoy yourself and let me know if you need anything."

I settled back on my barstool and started to sip at my tonic. I took note of the crowd. The tables were tight, yet full. Most were of mixed company, but many were of ladies only; I grinned, imagining them to be groupies for the romantic image of musicians. The air was stale and hung heavy with smoke. The music was far too loud as it echoed off the small confines within. There was a small dance area that was still unadorned with wiggling and shimmying bodies, for it was far too early for that. Yep, this was quite possibly the perfect thing to settle my weary soul. A small smile of contentment was creeping onto my face when I scanned the band.

Bass player: good looking in tight jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Drummer: long hair pulled into a ponytail, ripped jeans and a black t-shirt; not a bad looker if you like long hair and grungier dress. Lead guitar and vocalist: short hair, jeans and plain white t-shirt; a very good looker, and I imagined many of the ladies were longing to be the direction of his songs. Trumpet player: small and tight as he shimmied with his instrument. Piano player: hard to tell, but appeared to have on jeans and a loose fitting black short sleeve button up shirt, his hair was…Webb! I choked on my tonic as I saw his face. His eyes were on me as I found him. When he caught my startled look, a sly smile snuck onto his face.

I jerked around on my stool and faced the bar. Job saw me and moved to see if I needed anything. I asked for a refill, even though the liquid in the glass I had was only partially gone, and ventured a question, "Who’s that on the piano?"

Without looking up, he smiled widely and laughed, "That’s Webb, or as I like to call him, ‘Spiderman.’ You’re lucky; he isn’t here every night, but is one of my biggest attractions."

I nearly fell off my seat, "Spiderman?"

The black man stood tossing his head back in a bellowing laugh, "Yep, you know, ‘Webb’…and he’s so unpredictable in what he does, and when he’ll be here, we just assume he must be Spiderman." He leaned against the bar, closer to me, his gold tooth catching the dim light from behind the bar, "See all those tables with ladies and no men?" I nodded. "They show up every weekend waiting and looking for him. He’s been the best thing for my bottom line since prohibition ended."

"Really? A real Don Juan?" I nosed.

"No, not Webb. He keeps pretty much to himself. He just likes to play. But you know how that goes…makes him all the more mysterious and, no offense, but ‘that’ drives ladies crazy." He gave another belly shaking laugh.

"No offense taken." I laughed as I started to look back towards Webb. He was still watching me from behind his piano.

When she saw me I wished I had a camera. She sat at the bar letting her eyes investigate the crowd. When she reached the band, I could see her analyze each musician as she came to them. When her eyes fell on me and traveled up my body, it was sheer incredulousness as she registered who was sitting on that bench. I enjoyed the look of shock, and returned it with as good a grin as I could.

When she spun around to the bar and talked to Job, I saw him laugh, and I could make out the word, ‘Spiderman’ on his lips. I groaned to myself, wishing he would quit calling me that. "I’ll never live that one down."

It was after the op when I presented Job with a more than generous check from the government for the use of his facilities. He told me I could come and play whenever I wanted. Through out the year, I found myself at the dirty bar as often as I could, losing myself in the world of music. Even though Job knew who I was, he was as tight lipped as a mafia boss. He just smiled and laughed, as people would ask about the mysterious piano and sax player that would show up on a whim, but never predictably. All he would say was ‘That’s our Webb, our Spiderman.’

The band members, in true form to hard playing amateurs, had no problem with my showing up unannounced, and accepted me without question; besides that fact, no one questioned Job. I would toss around between piano and sax, depending on the group. Job just sat back and watched with glee. He and I hit it off, my sarcasm bouncing off his bluntness perfectly. He towered over me at 6-foot-6, weighing 300 pounds, but it was I who protected him from the local underground influences that could haunt such establishments. He knew this, and was even more grateful as he gave me whatever I wanted at any given time, which was usually a piano or sax to meld into the world that was completely different from my day-to-day life …just true and honest music.

She slowly turned back around and found me. I’d never taken my eyes off of her. We continued into a medley of Louis Armstrong that featured the trumpet player. After that, we took a break. As the vocalist announced our break, the rest of us moved off the stage. Often I would get the attention of ladies, but I usually gracefully dodged them and made my way to the safety of the bar or Job’s office. Job knew I wasn’t there looking for women, so he made it quite clear with stern looks and raised eyebrows that I was off limits as I would sit and share a drink with him.

However, this evening, I had added incentive, and I ventured into the crowd, making my way towards Sarah MacKenzie. I noted Job watching with interest as I passed my usual spot at the far end near him, and continued across towards the leggy Colonel. She looked incredible in her simple jeans and shirt. She wasn’t overly made up, or ignored, either. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, and it glistened in the dull lights around her. And her lips. Her lips were accentuated with a light blush of a dark brownish red. My gaze was stuck on those full lips as I mentally traced them from corner to corner.

As I stared, I caught my breath as she sucked her lower lip in and slowly slipped it between her teeth before she spoke, "Spiderman?" She teased with a delicious smile.

Giving a groan of agony, I closed my eyes momentarily with a shake of my head, "Would you try to argue with that man?" She broadened her smile, and I found I was once again caught. I loved the tiny little overbite she had. "What brings you here tonight?"

"Nu-uh, Webb, you first." She sipped at her tonic, and I was suddenly envious of the straw that was graced with her mouth.

Trying not the stare too much, I quickly and quietly explained how I ended up a regular guest of the Moody Blues, and how Job and I had become something of friends. I didn’t go into great detail about the op and she didn’t ask. She just listened and nodded with interest.

"Have to admit, this would’ve been the last place I would ever have expected to run into you." She mused. "You play piano…" she trailed off.

"And sax and cello." I reached for the scotch Job had placed on the bar.

"And sax and cello. Interesting mix Webb…" She shook her head and laughed, "Is there anything you don’t do?"

"That’s classified." I winked, to which she shot me a nasty smirk, "For protection." I shrugged innocently.

"Need anything else Webb?" Job was now hovering with an interested look on his face, dying to know who this person was that caught my attention so easily.

"Job, this is Colonel Sarah MacKenzie. Colonel, Job."

"We’ve met; good to know you, Colonel."

"Mac."

He smiled, "Mac. So how do you know this yahoo?"

When she smiled at his reference to me, I caught myself again staring at her mouth. She answered, "Oh, I’ve had to save his six a few times in the past." She ended it with a wink, and Job gave one of his hearty laughs as he walked to tend to another customer. She turned to me with a gleam in her eye, "Colorful fellow, I like him. Now tell me Webb, what’s with all your little groupies?"

When I asked him about his groupies, I thought I’d get a rise out of him. I should’ve known better. He gave me a smirk and asked, "Why? You looking to sign up?"

I gave a disinterested look and retorted, "I don’t waste time with musicians, although your bass player’s not half bad." I finished with a cock of my head towards the end of the bar where the other men sat. They saw me looking their way as they watched our proceedings carefully, also very interested at who had caught the attentions of their elusive Webb.

"Ted? No, you wouldn’t want Ted. Too cocky." I caught a slight flicker in his eyes as he spoke.

"Huhm, don’t know anyone like that." I looked at him over my glass as I sipped. I found it quite interesting how he seemed preoccupied with my mouth. I decided to test that thought. I let the straw slide from my mouth, and ran my tongue slowly along my bottom lip. I nearly laughed when I saw him swallow hard, while his eyes were fixed. Very interesting, Webb.

He was startled back to reality as one of the band members slapped him on the back and asked if he was going to join them in the next set. Webb, turned to me, "You hanging around?"

I could see the hope in his eyes and decided that I should; this could truly prove to be an interesting evening after all. "Sure, if you’ll play me a song."

His grin was nearly school-boyish as he said he would, and took off with the rest of the group. I sat leaning back against the bar. How odd, I thought. Here I am nearly flirting with Webb. Who’da ever thought. Even odder, I was really enjoying the banter and the unexpected interest he was tossing my way. I watched him take his seat behind the piano. When he looked up and caught my eye, he gave me a grin and they jumped right into some hard gravely music.

I watched Webb play the piano, his hands moving effortlessly along the keyboard. I was intrigued, to say the least. A small smile crept onto my face as I listened complacently to the music and found that I couldn’t even remember why I was so upset before. Yep, shaping into a very interesting evening, with Webb no less, I laughed.

They continued the set, varying from classic jazz, to blues, to gravely soul, to modern jazz. They were really quite diverse in their range as they played all with equal vigor. It was the last song in the set when I saw Webb beckon the singer to him. When he spoke, I saw a smile creep over the singer’s face. He gave a look my way and turned to the drummer. One by one they spoke to each other and wide smiles dressed their faces as they collaborated, and the singer started a count…

One…two…three…

When they finished the song and separated for a break, Webb made his way back to me. "Cute, Webb." I tried my hardest to sound pissed, but failed dismally.

With a cocky grin, he just sat and smiled, "You asked for a song." I gave him a once over, taking in the non-three-piece suit wearing Webb. I had to admit that jeans were not a bad look on him, and the loose fitting shirt hung nicely on his frame. The more I looked at him, the more I was astounded at the thoughts my mind was wandering to.

As we sat there at a slight loss for where to take our words, he finally parted his lips to speak; a chirp from his cell phone interrupted, and he looked at the caller ID. With a small groan and roll of his eyes he answered. I sat and watched as he talked in curt words to whoever called him.

"Yes." "Now?" "Not really." "No." "Are you sure?" "It’s midnight." "Yeah, Yeah." "Fine."

When he finished, he turned to me. He looked down and I could hear the wind leave his lungs as he sighed, "Sorry." His eyes found mine again.

"You have to leave." I pursed my lips. He nodded. "Work?" He nodded again. I sighed to myself; I knew this was going all too well.

"Uhm…" I’d never seen Webb at a loss for words, but he seemed to stumble in his mind on how to part. I could tell he really didn’t want to leave, which made me smile.

I interrupted, "Are you going out of town?"

"No." He looked at me with question.

I set my tonic down and turned to him confidently, "Good, that means you’ll be playing again tomorrow, right?"

A smile sweep across his face, "Yeah, I will."

I leaned into him and whispered close enough so only he could hear, "Now, go play spy games, Spiderman. I’ll see you tomorrow."

When she leaned close to me, I could smell her perfume over the stale odor of the bar, it invaded my senses and left me wondering just where she’d placed that wonderful scent on her body. As she whispered, I felt her breath brush across me. I drew in a deep lung full of air trying to take in as much of her as I could. If I leaned just a bit forward, too, I could’ve touched her. I wanted to touch her. I’ve always wanted to touch her. As I felt my head spinning, I gave myself a mental slap and jerked back to reality. ‘Come on Webb, this is Mac…this is Rabb’s woman…back off.’ I leaned back from her.

She wore a sly close-mouthed grin then pulled her lower lip between her teeth and let it slowly slip out to fall into a slight open-mouthed breath. "Clay," she said in a breathy ado, then she turned to leave the bar.

I was sitting in a stupor as I watched her walk out. What the hell was going on here? What the hell was that? If it were anyone other than Sarah MacKenzie, I would’ve called it a blatant invitation; but with Mac, I was confused and wondering.

"Webb." Job barked from behind the bar. "You look like you need a drink…several."

It yanked me back again to reality, and I turned to him, holding up a hand, "No, got to go. Duty calls." I slipped off the bar stool.

"She’s quite a looker." He wiped a towel on the bar.

"She’s simply incredible, Job." I turned to leave. When I stepped into the night air I took a deep mind cleansing breath and let it out with a huff. "Simply incredible." And I headed off to play my spy games.

I was busy catching up on laundry and grocery shopping as that damn song kept running through my head, ‘All you want to do is ride around Sarah, ride Sarah ride…’ I could still see the smile on his face as he moved his hands along the keys. I was fairly confused about all this…uhm, flirting with Webb; but I was mostly confused at how I was wondering what else those hands could do.

I caught a light lunch from a local bagel shop and sat in the park to eat. It was a nice day and many people were out with kids and dogs playing in the grass. I nibbled on my sandwich watching the people when my cell rang.

When I answered without looking at the ID, I heard Harm greet me, "Hey Mac."

I was sitting cross-legged under a tree, I leaned back against the trunk, "What’s up Harm?"

I could hear the cocky smile on his face, "Just wanted to see how you were doing after your royal beating yesterday." I heard a small laugh and he continued, "Seriously, I wanted to know if I you wanted to grab a bite to eat tonight, I’ll even buy."

I felt the anger building within me, ‘what a smug bastard! A bite to eat with him? To let him sit there and replay the case and tell me what I should’ve done and why I lost?’ I took a deep breath to control the tone in my voice, "I can’t tonight Harm. I already have plans." I purposely added the ‘plans’ part without elaborating. I knew it would leave him wondering.

"Plans? Whacha doing?" He pushed with a slight edge to his voice.

I smiled at how easy it was to predict his reactions, "Nothing big Harm, just going out for a bit tonight. Look I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you Monday, okay?"

He stuttered in confusion, "Uhm…well…yeah…I guess Mac." The bewilderment was obvious in his voice. "I’ll talk to you Monday."

I snapped my cell phone shut and took several deep breaths. I leaned my head back to bask in my small little triumph. I’m not sure when it really happened, but somewhere over the last year, I broke the hold Harm held on my heart. Hurtful remarks about my past, disrespect when I sat on the bench, and an utter lack of faith in my abilities all festered since I’d broken off my engagement with Mic. And, somehow it showed me how a relationship with Harm would’ve been no different than with Mic…no different than with any man in my past. I truly was the typical woman that fell for the same personality over and over. I laughed to myself thinking of how many self-help books there were out there for me.

As I sat, literally laughing pitifully about my ‘issues’, my cell rang again. I opened it and greeted with a slight sarcastic laugh in my voice, "Hello?"

"What’s so funny, Mustang?"

I felt a slight flip in my stomach and mused about it, "Webb." A smile returned to my face and my voice relaxed for the moment, "How is Spiderman this afternoon?" I lifted my arm and lay my hand between my head and the tree.

"Oh, I’m fine. Looks like you’re having a nice relaxed afternoon."

I started to agree when it dawned on me what he’d said. I leaned forward and scanned the park. I couldn’t see him anywhere.

"That was Rabb wasn’t it? On the phone."

I continued to look hard for anyone that even resembled Webb. "Yeah…you tapping my lines?" I said in a far off voice as I tried my hardest to find him.

"No. Only Rabb can crush you like that within a matter of minutes." He had a sharp tone to his voice that I knew was directed more to Harm than me.

I was at a loss for what to say. My eyes quit wandering my surroundings as I slumped against the tree behind me. "I’m a big girl, Webb, I can handle myself with Harm. Where the hell are you?" I knew he was close, he could see me clearly as I spoke to Harm. I was instantly tired of this game now and refused to continue it. I snapped my cell closed.

In true spook fashion, he slipped quietly from behind me and now stood before me. "Sorry." He simply stated. He was back into uniform wearing a suit.

"What was that all about Webb?" I didn’t move to stand.

"Just calling it like I see it." He idly scanned the park. "I know it’s easier said than done, Mac, but you really shouldn’t let him beat you down like that." Webb never minced words when he spoke. His eyes came back to me and found mine, "You have no reason to, Sarah." He added in a softer tone.

"Webb, what are you doing here?" I wanted to change this line of conversation.

I was walking along the path with John, finishing the details of the meeting we had last night with an informant, when I saw her. There she was, sitting in the shade just taking in her surroundings. She was always aware of what was going on around her. I parted from John and headed back towards her. She had such a serene smile on her face, and I felt almost guilty for watching her so eagerly. When she reached for her cell, I observed as with each moment the sparkle in her eyes waned, and the peace on her face turned to tension. I knew she was talking to Rabb. I’d seen it a hundred times. As much as I liked Rabb, I had to admit I hated that about him; but more, I hated the hold he had on her.

My words were more biting than I’d wanted, and I could tell she didn’t really appreciate them. I was quickly angry with myself and tried to explain to her. I knew she would try to change the subject; she usually did when things got too personal.

When she asked me what I was going there, I contemplated my answer and decided to keep it simple. "I was passing through with a colleague and I saw you. I just thought I’d say hello." I watched her for reaction. There was none. "You still going to Job’s tonight?"

"I was. But, if you’re going to bring up Rabb every chance you get, I don’t think I will."

‘Rabb’ not ‘Harm.’ "Sorry, won’t happen again." I tried to break the tension I’d caused, and squatted before her, letting a smirk cross my lips, "If you show, I’m sure I can come up with another song."

I watched as a twinkle slowly flickered in her eyes. When it became a full blown sparkle, and a smile crossed her lips, I was elated to think I could’ve caused that. "And what if Spiderman is called again before I get my song?"

I was enjoying the change back to the light feel between us from last night, "I’m sure I could figure something out." With a wink and shrug, I added in a hushed tone, "I do have super human abilities, you know."

She laughed, and I was caught in the sing-songy way it sounded as it flowed from her.

I had to admit, for a moment there, I was truly pissed. I was pissed at Harm for calling me and even mentioning his win, and then I was pissed at Webb for calling me on how Harm could affect me so easily. Last night the connection between Webb and I was something I never would have predicted, for sure; and I was feeling quite eager to return to see if I’d just imagined it. But, then he showed up in the park and more or less accused me of letting Rabb control my emotions. If he weren’t so on the mark, it probably wouldn’t have bothered me so.

But, he quickly brought back the Webb I met last night, and chided me about the song and the possibility of another. His eyes were warm, and I noticed the little flecks of gold mixed with green giving them a soft hue to their look. I laughed and started to feel the tension leave again, as it had the night before. I had to admit these feelings were confusing. I have always respected Webb on a professional level, and truly admired what he had done for such families as those of the Tiger Shark, to name one of his moments of ‘weakness’. There were many instances in our experience with Webb that accurately showed he was not the Tin Man we thought he was…no, more of a ‘Spiderman’, I smiled to myself…A ‘Spy-derman’ that had incredibly agile hands and looked pretty damn good in jeans.

Staring into my closet, I was trying to decide what to wear. I didn’t want to over dress for the dingy little bar; but I had to admit I wanted to make sure I looked…uhm…good. Jeans were always a safe choice, as I pulled a pair up my long legs. But, what shirt? I was fingering through my choices, standing in my jeans and a bra. I chose a snug fitting tank top that nicely accentuated my ample bust line, and slipped a loose silk button up shirt over it, leaving it to hang freely open.

When I made my way to the bar, I was surprised at how anxious I was to get there; and when I entered, I was disappointed to see a different person behind the piano. I slipped onto a bar stool at the end of the bar and settled myself into the corner. I noted it was a woman sitting on at the piano, playing as hard as the men, and enjoying it immensely.

"Hello there, Colonel. How are you this evening?" Job was as attentive as the night before.

"I’m fine, thanks, and it’s Mac." I reached for the tonic he’d brought without my asking. "So tell me, does your band change every night?"

He looked over to the players and pondered the question for a moment; he knew full well I was referring to Webb. "Well you see, this is no fancy bar, and I ain’t no fancy person. There’s a group of about eight guys and a couple gals that really enjoy playing and jamming. But, it ain’t their job, you know? So sometimes it’s hard for them to play every weekend or even regular like. So, we’re family here and they kind of show up when they can, and usually there’s enough for some good music and good times." He leaned on the bar. "Most of them can play more than one instrument, so they kind of swap out here and there, depending on who’s here. It’s all real casual and laid back. Webb’s the most unpredictable, but they all like each other well enough it doesn’t really bother anyone." He stood back up, "Just honest people playing honest music."

I smiled as he gave me a nod after his slightly lengthy explanation and went to take care of a man at the other end of the bar. What an interesting little place. It was earlier than the night before and only about half the tables were full. The players were melding together as well as the night before, and once again I was truly enjoying the atmosphere.

As the time passed, the tables started to fill, and like the night before there were several tables of ladies as they vied for tables close to the band. I kept stealing glances at the door. I was starting to wonder if Webb was going to show. Suddenly, I felt a wave of irritation at myself, sitting here like one of his little groupies watching the door and waiting for him. I laughed at the absurdity of it and decided it was time for me to leave. Just as I slipped off the stool and tossed some money on the bar, I felt an arm around my waist from someone beside me.

"Not leaving are you?" Webb stood there looking at the money on the bar. He didn’t move his arm.

I was slightly flustered at the move he made and took a moment to recover, "Well…"

"I haven’t played a song for you yet." He was close enough for me to smell his cologne, musky and rich. He pulled me away from the bar, "Let’s dance."

"Webb…there’s no one dancing."

"So." He slid his arm away and grabbed a hold of my hand.

"Webb…I don’t tango…I don’t really dance that well." I nearly squawked as we reached the small spot towards the other corner of the bar.

"Nonsense, everyone dances well." He wrapped his arm around my waist, continuing to hold my other hand as he held it up in a formal dancing position. "Just watch my eyes and follow me."

Before I could protest again, he started to move me around the floor, holding his look tightly on mine. We were nearly the same height, and the perfect fit of our bodies together made me somewhat weak. I felt his arm tighten around my waist, and what small space there was between us was instantly obliterated.

I was delayed when I left the agency, and a bit anxious that I would find her gone when I did get there. I’d thought about calling Job to see if she was there, and to ask her to wait, but I didn’t want to appear too eager or presumptuous. I changed quickly, grabbing whatever I could get to first, and slicked my hair a little to keep it out of my face. I sped along the roads until I reached my destination, and nearly ran to the door. I started to curse myself for acting like such an idiot as entered the bar.

There she was standing and tossing money onto the bar. Damn, just in time, I thought. But I just stood there a moment, taking her in. The soft silk top she wore draped over her gently. When I approached, I could see the snug top beneath the shirt, and I let my eyes trail over the breasts they clung to.

I knew I had to touch her somehow, so with a definitive move, I slid beside her and snaked my arm around her waist. Her form was smooth and tight as my hand took in everything it felt. Her look was of happy surprise, and I knew I’d taken her off guard as I saw her try to gain some composure. I decided to take advantage of that slight moment of fluster, and dragged her to the pathetic excuse for a dance floor.

I told her to watch my eyes and follow me…and she *did*. My heart was racing as I held her to me and started to move her around the dance floor. The floor was dark and to the side of the bar. No one else was out there; it was far too early for the dancers. When I closed what miniscule gap there was between us, I swore I felt a shudder run through her. I was lost in her.

Her eyes never left mine. Her mouth opened slightly, and in a hoarse whisper I heard her ask, "Webb?"

I couldn’t have taken my eyes off of hers if I wanted to, "What?" I whispered back.

I saw her swallow, "Wh…what’s going on?"

My stare bore into her, "We’re dancing." I curled our hands around and tucked them against us. Our hips were moving together as my arm made sure we were as close as we could possibly be. "And you’re doing a fine job of it." I added in a low breathy tone.

The electricity I was feeling was driving me insane, and I tried to read in her eyes if she was feeling similarly. I leaned in and placed my mouth by her ear, the corner of my lips touched her, and I whispered, "Thanks for coming." I felt her waver and nearly melt into me…yes, she felt it too. I was smiling as I ventured an ever so slight nuzzle into her hair. What I wouldn’t give to taste her.

The music ended far too quickly and the players were taking a break, leaving it relatively quiet in the bar. I felt her push away from me and her breathing was shallow as she spoke in an obvious fluster, "I..I think we should sit."

I was thoroughly enjoying the thought that I could make Sarah MacKenzie’s breathing shallow from feelings other than anger, as we walked to where she was sitting before I swept her to the dance floor.

There was a flush on her cheeks as she scooted onto a seat, the silk shirt floating with her. I sat beside her, pulling the chair closer and turning to face her as I sat. Job came by and placed a glass of tonic and scotch down on the counter, "You gonna actually earn that liquor, or are you just gonna play Fred Astaire all night?"

I turned and found that gold-toothed smile from the man behind the bar, "It’s good to see you too, Job." I reached for the scotch.

Job continued, "There’s someone on the piano already. So maybe you should just sit out tonight." He walked away from us.

I turned my attention back to Sarah and maneuvered her stool to face me. I was surprised at my boldness as I scooted closer to her, our knees overlapping. She looked at me shyly, "Are you going to play?"

"That’s why I usually come here." I was looking at her and enjoying the softness of her face in the dim lights. She gave me another shy look, but she didn’t back away. I let my gaze drop down her body a little and smiled, "You look nice."

She blushed, and I knew she was hoping I’d say that. "Thanks."

What the hell is going on with me? I’m sitting here blushing because Webb said I looked nice? I was left breathless as he was molded to me while we danced? I was looking at his mouth and noting how full and soft his lips looked? What the hell is going on?

When he pulled close to me at the bar, letting my knees slide between his, I was shocked at the way I enjoyed the feel of his legs against mine. This was so confusing and exciting, all in one. I was suddenly stricken with shyness as he looked at me intently. As he watched me, I realized I’d never noticed how attentive he was. When I would speak, his full attention was on me, and he listened closely.

I looked at him, again in jeans, and tonight in a crisp white shirt; I could steal a peek of skin beneath the "V" at the top button. When I realized I was staring, I abruptly looked away, but not before I saw that he noticed and smiled slyly. Before he could attempt any sort of teasing, a member of the band stopped and asked if he was joining them. He acknowledged, and stood to follow them, downing the rest of his scotch in one gulp.

When he got to the stage, he reached around the back and pulled out a saxophone, strapped it on, and gave a few notes to tweak the sound. They jumped into the music with the same vigor as always, and Clay followed easily with the sax. I can carry a tune pretty well, but never played an instrument; I was always respectfully envious of anyone who could play one, let alone multiple. I sat in wonder at the spy as he seemed at home in this obscure dirty little bar.

For the next two hours I sat nestled into the corner, sipping tonic, watching and listening to the music. Well, I mostly watched Clay. When he would reach his solos he was earthy and hard, as he wailed the tunes. I noted that he was starting to sweat as I caught a gleam from his forehead, and he swiped it with his shirtsleeve when he could. The bar was hot, and he was active as he moved with the music; I wondered what else that mouth could do.

It was nearly two in the morning when they finished the set and announced they were packing up for the night. Each player took care of his own instrument and cleared the stage. The patrons started to settle their tabs and trickle out of the bar. Clay came towards me, stopping as he stood before me.

I smiled up to him, "Not bad, Webb."

He grinned mischievously as he leaned past me to pick up his glass, once again full, "Oh, I’m bad alright, but that just makes me all the better."

I was left open mouthed and astonished at his remark, and when I recovered all I could do was laugh and roll my eyes.

He laughed too, as he shot down his drink and held out a hand to me, "Come on, I’ll drive you home."

I didn’t take his hand and looked with playful question, "What makes you think I ‘need’ a ride home?"

He joggled his hand emphasizing that I should take it, "I assume you walked here again, and it’s pouring rain."

I looked quickly at the door, and sure enough, one of the players had returned from outside shaking off large amounts of water.

"Come on, Mac. Can’t let you melt in the rain, now can I?" I finally reached tentatively for his hand. He smiled.

He led me to the door and told me to wait in the stoop while he pulled up. Always the gentleman, I thought as I waited and then slid into the car when he pulled to the curb. He took off and headed to my apartment without asking directions. When he pulled up to my building we sat momentarily uneasy.

"Thanks for the lift." I felt like a teenager being dropped off after prom.

"No problem, hope you had a good time."

"I did. I guess I’ll see you around?" He nodded and I got out of the car, dashing to the door. When I reached my apartment, I leaned my head against the door and sighed as I fished in my purse, "What the hell did you expect Mac? You’re absolutely hopeless." Keys found, door opened, I turned to close the door…there stood Webb.

I started slightly, "Clay."

"I forgot something."

"You forgot something? What?" I was curiously thinking of what the hell he could’ve forgotten that I would have.

With a step, he pulled me to him by my shirt and snaked his other hand around the back of my neck, heatedly claiming me with his mouth on mine. It took me only a moment to recover before I reciprocated, eagerly parting my lips in invitation to his demanding tongue. Grabbing his shirt with my fists, I pulled him into my apartment and he kicked the door shut with his foot.

Continuing to tangle with our mouths, he pushed me flat against the wall and pressed his body to mine, producing a low moan from within me as I felt him tightly against me. We both smelled of stale smoke, and I could taste the sweet liquor in his mouth. For the situation, both were an aphrodisiac as I tangled my hands into his thick locks.

"Sarah…" he started to choke out, as he began to kiss along my neck.

I stopped him, pulling his face to look at me, quickly placing my fingers over his mouth, "Stop, don’t talk…talk later…just do." He closed his eyes as I dipped the tips of my fingers between his lips and he toyed them with his tongue. I slipped them out of his mouth, dragging them off his bottom lip, down his chin, and let them fall onto his chest. He stared at my mouth, then down at my fingers as I slowly played with the top button until it was freed. His breathing was quickening as I moved to the next. He looked back to my face, his mouth open slightly as I made it to his third button, then the last. His breath was now raspy as he closed his eyes and groaned pleasingly as he pressed again into my mouth. My hand slipped past his shirt and when I stroked across his chest, the noise was guttural as he wrapped his arms around my body and pulled me hard to him.

We stumbled our way towards the bedroom, refusing to leave the heat of each other’s mouths. Half way across the living room, it was unanimously decided that the bedroom was just too far to go, and down to the floor we sank in a heated battle to touch each other. He slid the silk cover over my shoulders as I lay atop him, kissing its path as far as he could reach. When his hands slid up my body, letting his thumbs slide lightly over the thin cotton tank covering me, and all I could do was gasp at the feel as my body responded to his touch.

When she sucked in a sharp breath against my mouth as my fingers touched her, my head started spinning. The taste of her far exceeded all my expectations…all my fantasies. And suddenly all that mattered in this world was making her utter that noise again…that noise of pleasure from *my* touch.

I reached for the bottom of her tank, I wanted it off of her…I needed it off of her; and as I started to yank it from the confines of her jeans, I felt her push herself up a bit to aid in my task. Pulling it over her head, my hands quickly fell to her bare torso and when I touched her heated skin, I was ready to die, for I was a happy man.

She was running her hands through my hair and hungrily sucking and kissing my lips, my neck, my face. The feel of her fingers upon me in a way I had only dared dream of was dizzying. She stopped momentarily and found my eyes, "Clay." She called me Clay.

"Sarah?"

She smiled, "Nothing, just Clay." And she returned to my mouth, which was eager for her lips.

With a slow trail, I slid my fingertips up her back and lightly settled on her bra. With a quick twist, it was open and she pulled back again with a sly smile, "Oh, Clay," she breathed in a deliciously low growl. When my hands, nearly shaking, found their way back to her, a deep gravely "Yesssssss" slipped from her mouth, and I was near the breaking point from listening to her and feeling her against me.

The feel of her hot skin on top of me was quite possibly the most unbelievable thing I’d ever felt in my life. It was all sensory overload as I lay there on her floor, with her atop me.

I nearly lost it when I felt her mouth travel along my neck, I reveled in the sensation, until I groaned deeply and pushed her off of me, and onto her back to repay the favor. A low giggle of pleasure came from her at the move.

I thought I was going to explode as he teased me. I arched against him as I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of being explored. His touch was so gentle, yet heated with passion. The more he touched, the more I wanted him to touch. My God, this was Clayton Webb, how the hell did this happen? I didn’t really care, all I wanted was more of him.

When I felt his fingers toy with the top of my jeans, I was more than ready and wanting the rest. His lips fell upon my mouth and his tongue delved eagerly to tangle with mine. It was time, there was no more waiting needed or wanted, I needed him now…needed to be completely ravished by this man…this man Clayton Webb, no other.

Two days ago, the thought of making love to Clayton Webb, simply was not there…however, now it was the only thing I could possibly imagine being right. Everything felt right. When he looked at me, there was reverence in his eyes, and that spurred me as I felt the need to have him completely.

We collapsed together as I lay my head in the crook of her neck, out of breath and spent, her arms wrapped tightly around me. "Oh my god, Clay." She panted.

"Yeah." I spoke into her neck.

"How the hell are we ever going to top that?" Her breathing was still harsh.

The thought that she was even thinking about topping this, which I hoped meant she didn’t want this to be a one night thing, was enough to make my head spin. I lifted my head, heavy from exhaustion, and looked into her eyes, with a slight drawl I lilted, "Oh ‘darlin’ there are places we haven’t even touched yet."

Her smile was enough to melt me as she grinned widely and purred, "I’ll hold you to that, super-spy."

I sat between his legs as he was behind me in the hot water of the deep claw-foot tub. My head tilted forward as his hands gently massaged the shampoo into my hair. The feeling was relaxing as his fingers worked against my scalp, occasionally slipping onto my shoulders and arms. Carefully he poured water over me, rinsing the bubbles into the water.

After our workout on the floor, I decided I really didn’t want to go to bed smelling of stale smoke and sweat. I convinced him a hot steamy bath was in order. Which admittedly, wasn’t all too hard to do.

As I mentioned the smell of my hair, he sat me upright and beckoned me to tilt my head forward. When I felt his fingers working through my hair and firmly on my scalp, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. It nearly lulled me to sleep. The rinsing water ran over me, down my face and back, bubbles tickling the path as they fell.

"There." He reached around and ran his hands through my hair to sweep it off my face, pulling me to sit back against him. Now, as I leaned back, on the brink of sleep, he ran a sponge over my shoulders and squeezed the water to trail down me. "Sarah?"

"Uhm?" My eyes were closed in my enjoyment of the bath.

"Had you ever thought that this would ever happen?" Another sponge of water.

"Does it really matter if I did or didn’t? We’re here now." His touch was soft and intoxicating.

"I’ll take that as a ‘No’," he laughed.

"Oh come on, Clay, have *you*?"

Silence.

"Clay?"

Silence.

I turned slightly to him, questioning. His eyes were smoldering with desire as he looked at me and I knew it wasn’t the first time he’d thought about me. "You flatter me, Clay," I purred as I leaned in for his mouth. We kissed as our steam-moistened lips moved easily across each other.

"Sarah."

I was kissing his neck, "Uhm?"

"It’s important to me that you understand something…"

I pulled up to look into his eyes. The sincerity and honesty that emanated from them nearly took my breath away. "I know, Clay."

"No." He dodged my mouth as I tried to capture him again. He cupped my face, "Sarah, there’s so much I want to say to you. So much I want to convey to you. Your beauty, your strength, your intelligence, your passion…so many things that make you the amazing person that you are. All of it. All of it is what renders me in awe of you. Ah, hell, I can’t explain properly Sarah…"

I again leaned into him, and this time he allowed me to find his mouth. "That was pretty good." I whispered as we met.

When I woke it took me a moment to decide if I’d just had the most incredible dream of my life, or if this incredible feeling was real. When I looked down I couldn’t contain the smile as I swept a hand through her hair. The touch roused her as she wiggled closer to me and nuzzled her head against my chest.

"Am I dreaming?" she murmured, then lifted her head to gaze up at me. "Thank God, you *are* real." She laid her head back to rest on my chest and a contented sigh slipped wonderfully from her.