It was a violation of trust and friendship ... another violation in a long line of them. How many more could I take from him? How many apologies for indiscretions? How many more times would I allow him to get by on the excuse of immaturity? I didn't want him to be like me. Really, I didn't. But I did want him to be a little more ... what? Repressed? Insecure? No, responsible. That's all I wanted. I wanted Blair to be more responsible.
But, no. Naomi raised her boy to be a free spirit ... more of a hedonist than a hippie ... a 'go after anything in a skirt and damn the consequences' kind of guy. Oh yeah ... he'd finally settled down ... some. Had a steady job, a decent home ... mine ... and a wardrobe that included more than flannel. But the little hippie boy that loved to run with the wind was always there underneath it all ... waiting to break free.
It had been four months since Sandburg had gotten his shield ... six since the dissertation had been flushed away in the name of friendship. During that two-month gap, he'd breezed through the Academy, scoring passable marks on firearms training and acing everything else. In the usual Sandburg style, he'd charmed his worst critics and become the cop that not one of them had ever thought he could be.
We'd gotten back to the easy friendship that had suddenly gone sour with the arrival of Alex Barnes and hit breaking point thanks to Sid Graham and his dreams of greatness. We were even making progress towards building something a little more than friendship, if I was reading the signals right. And I was pretty sure I was. Neither of us was dating anymore, Sandburg was throwing off pheromones like crazy and we'd settled into a comfortable routine.
My last attempt at a relationship had ended abruptly when Judy Summerson, the nurse I'd been seeing for a couple of months, told me we were through. Judy was a tall, voluptuous blond with hazel eyes, breasts that made men drool and thighs that could crack walnuts. She was a surgical nurse, so there were the usual scheduling difficulties, but by and large, I'd thought things were going okay.
Then one dreary Thursday afternoon, she broke it off. We'd met for lunch at Donatello's since she was working nights for a while. She sat across from me in a filmy green blouse and a short, short skirt and told me that it wasn't working out. She said I seemed distracted and she didn't see our relationship going anywhere.
My reaction probably wasn't the most well thought out. I laughed. I guess I'd realized by that time who I'd been distracted by and it sure wasn't her. That pissed Judy off. Can't say I blamed her, but I still don't think that gave her cause to throw that drink in my face. She left the restaurant in a huff, mumbling about assholes that needed to come out of the closet and other such endearments.
I think I'd already come to that realization by myself and just hadn't had the nerve to act on it. I knew Blair was traveling along the same path too. He'd broken up with Misty Something-Or-Other a month before and was now spending large amounts of time exercising his own right hand. I could hear him at night ... trying so hard to be quiet as he jacked himself off.
Then we started really flirting with each other. Sandburg and I had always flirted ... I just don't think we realized that was what we were doing until recently. I'd heard all the snotty little comments about how much I touched him and how he looked at me when he didn't think I was looking. At first, I'd been offended. Then I was amused. Then I realized that maybe those people knew us better than we'd known ourselves.
We were still in that beginning phase though. We hadn't done anything physical yet, but I just knew it was coming. There were times that it took every ounce of strength I had to not turn the friendly pat into a caress ... to pull Blair close and kiss that beautiful mouth of his. But I could tell he was still skittish about the whole male/male thing. He'd cracked a couple of lame jokes about what people must think of us ... two grown men living together like we do ... that sort of thing, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it. I guess it just didn't come as naturally to him to check out my ass as looking at his did to me.
Joel constantly teased us about being an old married couple and H had even called me Mrs. Sandburg when he didn't think I was listening. For some reason, instead of pissing me off, that had just made me smile. I liked the idea of being permanently attached to Sandburg. And there was no doubt in my mind who was the dominant one in our relationship. Oddly, that didn't bother me one bit. I was so comfortable following Sandburg's instructions that it was easier to just go with it and not fight the inevitable.
I was kind of a lost puppy that week he went to the forensics conference in Portland. Simon had chosen Blair because ... let's face it ... everybody knew he was the smartest guy in the department. He was the only one that stood a chance of not only staying awake through it, but actually getting something out of it. You couldn't have gotten me there with a bribe of Jags seasons tickets for the rest of my life. Sandburg, on the other hand, couldn't wait to go.
When he got back home, he was bubbling with enthusiasm about all the new techniques he'd learned and how I could still beat them all, what with me being so damned special and all. Of course, the lectures had inspired him to think up about a thousand new tests for me, which I gladly did just because he wanted me to. I'd missed him so damned much that week he'd been gone that I would've done anything he'd asked. He'd called almost every day while he was gone, but nothing could make up for having him back at my side.
The night he got back to Cascade, I fixed him his favorite meal and bought a nice bottle of wine to have with it. I was tempted to put candles and flowers on the table, but I didn't want to scare him off completely, so I settled for some Celtic music on the stereo and good food to create the mood. He wolfed down the chicken stew like he hadn't eaten in a week, pausing only to take a drink of wine or to start yet another story about what he'd learned.
I could have drowned in his eyes that night. They sparkled like brilliant sapphires in the dim light of the loft. He was so animated ... so bubbly ... so young. He should have been out celebrating with some leggy TA and not sitting at home with me. He should have made me feel old and tired, but instead, he invigorated me. And fuck, his mouth was like Viagra. One look at those perfect lips and I was ready to go all night.
Then he said something that took the wind out of my sails real fast.
"Hey, did I tell you that Carolyn was there?"
I didn't hear much of what he said after that. Just the name of my ex-wife was enough to throw me into a tailspin. Sudden thoughts of my long list of inadequacies sprang to mind and I was immediately unsure of everything I'd known to be true a moment before. How could I think that I could maintain a relationship with this gorgeous young man? I'd been a failure at marriage and every other relationship I'd attempted. Shit, even my mother had left me. Surely Sandburg would follow in their footsteps.
Sandburg. Fuck. Carolyn had hated Blair. She'd sniped at him from the moment he'd joined on as my unofficial partner. Her caustic remarks were legendary in the department and for a while, they were focused entirely on Blair. Everything bad that happened in the few months they were both working at the PD could be traced back to Sandburg, according to Carolyn. Maybe she'd sensed my attraction to him even back then and it was nothing more than jealousy, but somehow I doubted it.
If Blair noticed my change in mood, he didn't remark on it. Instead, he switched subjects and soon had me laughing at his impression of Ed Stroble, an FBI profiler that started his career at Cascade PD. Apparently Ed still had the habit of punctuating every sentence with at least three "uhs". It doesn't sound that awful, but trust me, after sitting through a two hour meeting with him as the primary speaker, you'd be ready to kill him too.
The next morning we fell back into our normal routine. It was Saturday and both of us were off, so Sandburg worked on his car while I did laundry. We went to the grocery store, then caught a movie at the cineplex on Federal. I was sorely tempted to put my arm around him during the movie and maybe initiate a little make-out session, but I was still spooked from hearing about Carolyn.
At one point, I raised my arm to drape it over the back of his chair and instead of Bruce Willis barking out orders, I heard her spit, "I can get more attention from my toaster!" I nearly dislocated my shoulder jerking my arm back to where it belonged.
On Monday, Simon assigned us to investigate the murder of a loan shark named Louis Tiffany. We were paired up with Chris Milbrandt and Tony Madala from Vice, who had been investigating Tiffany for his methods of extracting payments from his clients for the last few months. It took us all week to figure out that it was one such client, a damaged little waif named Carol Hughes, that had finally had enough and beaten the crap out of Tiffany with a tire iron. Sandburg had coaxed a teary confession out of her after we'd found out that Tiffany had raped her repeatedly when she'd failed to repay a $200 loan.
That Friday, I went out to celebrate with Chris and Tony, but Blair begged off with a headache. He'd been working at catching a cold and just wanted to go home and sleep. I was disappointed, but couldn't blame him. He looked like death warmed over ... all pasty and achy. Besides, I'd always kind of had a thing for Chris, so I didn't mind knocking back a few with her ... even if her partner was right there playing chaperone.
Chris is a tall, athletic woman with wavy red hair and huge blue eyes. She runs in marathons and has thighs that make me hard just thinking about them. She also has a reputation as a bit of a maneater and has dated half the single men in the department. She's kind of the female equivalent of Sandburg, I guess.
Chris was being really flirty that night, touching me a lot and hanging on my every word, and I was eating it up. After three beers, I thought I'd do probably anything she suggested. Then she invited me to a three-way with her and her partner and I sobered up real fast. My mind was not working right and for some reason, I couldn't just tell her no and drop it at that. No, I had to apologize over and over for my inhibitions. I ended up sounding like the biggest prude this side of the Mississippi. Chris just shrugged it off and said, "no problem." I took off for home right away.
When I got to 852 Prospect, I could see that there was still mail in the box. Sandburg must have forgotten to pick it up on his way in. I opened it up expecting the usual bills, but lying right on top was a letter from Carolyn. I recognized her neat handwriting and the faint scent of lavender immediately. I was ready to tear it open when I saw that it was addressed to Sandburg. What the hell was she writing to him for? I felt the envelope and could tell that there was at least one photograph ... a Polaroid by the feel of it ... inside a note card.
Well, to say I was curious was a gigantic understatement. I couldn't wait to get up and hear Sandburg's explanation for this. As I waited for the elevator, I tried to think up possible scenarios for her sending him a picture. Maybe it was an old one of me that she thought he might like. I don't remember us using a Polaroid ever, but it could have happened. Maybe it was a picture of a San Francisco landmark that he was interested in. Hell, it could have been a picture of a particularly unusual corpse, knowing the two of them.
Sandburg was still feeling crappy when I got home. He was all bundled up in a tight cocoon on the couch, wrapped in what looked like the fleece blanket from his room and the Navajo blanket from the back of the sofa. He was watching something about the Crusades on The History Channel and sipping from a cup of herbal tea. I patted him on the head as I walked by, then dropped the letter in the general vicinity of his lap. He didn't seem very surprised by it or interested in it, but he drew it under the blankets and out of my sight pretty quickly.
"So what's the deal?" I asked as casually as I could as I headed into the kitchen. "You and Carolyn comparing notes on me now?"
I kind of gave it a little laugh, then deliberately turned my back and reached in the fridge for a bottle of water, hoping that he'd take the bait. He didn't. What he did was start coughing, but I was pretty sure he was faking it. He didn't sound congested. He just sounded nervous.
"Hey, I'm gonna make it an early night," he mumbled as he gathered up his blankets and shuffled into his room.
"Night," I called after him.
I listened as he opened the letter, heard the picture fall out onto the bed, noticed his heart pound like a jackhammer in his chest. What the shit had she sent him? I gripped the arm of the sofa, fighting down the urge to charge in and demand an explanation. I sat rigid on the couch, straining to hear any further signs of distress. His heart rate slowed down and I then I heard a stifled giggle. Now I was really pissed off.
Blair had a right to privacy, I tried to convince myself. I had no right to bust in and demand an explanation. Besides, it couldn't have been too bad if he'd laughed. She couldn't hurt him here, I assured myself further. Next time I talked to her though, I knew I'd be giving her a piece of my mind. She had no right to carry her grudge against me over to the one person that had only shown her kindness and had always tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Minutes ticked by and I heard Blair crawl into bed and then quickly nod off. The urge to sneak in and watch him sleep was almost overwhelming. I'd been there before and knew the pleasure of watching his beautifully animated face relax into slumber. I'd knelt by his bed more than once and inhaled his sweet breath, bringing myself so close, but never touching his luscious lips. But not that night. I was too close to the edge to trust myself in his room.
Instead, I locked up and headed to my own bed, intent on distracting myself with my own hand. Sandburg had found this great lotion for me that had an aloe base and only the lightest scent of mint. I'd carried it upstairs ostensibly to use on my chafed elbows, but had quickly found other uses for it. Now it was my favorite aid to jacking off ... aside from thinking about Sandburg giving me a blow job. Consequently, the bottle had a permanent place on my bedside table.
I laid on top of the comforter and switched off the light. Sliding my boxers over my hips, I let them rest around my knees. I liked the feeling of being partially dressed when I jacked off ... it was more exciting ... dirtier that way. I poured out a sufficient amount of the lotion then fell back on the bed to begin my evening's entertainment. I shut my eyes and Blair's face with his mouth forming a perfect O appeared. It was all I really needed.
With one hand ... the clean one ... I twisted and pinched my nipples. With the other, I glided up and down my dick in quick, harsh strokes. In my mind's eye, Blair was on his knees with one hand resting on each of my thighs. His hair was a tangle of curls that gently grazed my fevered skin as he moved up and down, up and down. My own hand mimicked what my imagination saw ... my index finger a nimble tongue touching and pressing all my hot spots. My fist closed over the leaking head and then pumped down then up rapidly to imitate the suction I so desperately craved.
It never took long ... too many years of practice I guess ... and then I was coming. In a perfect world, I'm a screamer. In the wilderness ... or the right motel ... I let loose and bellow like a love-sick moose. In my bed, hiding my own base functions from the object of my affection, I simply bit my lip and uttered a soft moan of despair. And then ropes of come were streaking across my stomach until I'd squeezed out the last of the translucent liquid.
In the dim moonlight, I grabbed a couple of tissues and wiped myself off, then tugged my boxers back up over my hips. If I wasn't a 40 year old ex-Army Ranger, I would have laid there and cried. Instead, I turned on the light by my bed and picked up the novel I'd been reading for the last three nights.
Sandburg was apparently much better the next morning. He wasn't up at 8:30 when I left for the gym, but he was long gone when I got home. There was a note on the table saying that he was going to his friend Jess' house to help him paint. He'd probably be home for dinner. It was his turn to cook.
Jess was one of the few friends of Blair's that had stuck with him through the dissertation mess. He was a tall, lanky redhead with bright green eyes and short straight hair that he wore in a modified Mohawk. I liked Jess a lot. He was every bit as smart as Blair and just as nice. He worked in the university library, which is where I guess they'd gotten to know each other.
When he'd called the first time after Sandburg's press conference, he told Blair that he knew there must have been a good reason for what he'd done. He never mentioned my Sentinel abilities, which he'd probably noticed from day one, but instead gave Blair a pep talk that would have rivaled Richard Simmons' in its enthusiasm.
Jess lived on the other side of Cascade in a restored Victorian. He was always working on his house that he affectionately referred to as "The Money Pit". Blair had always remarked about how beautiful Jess' house was and how someday he wanted to live someplace like that. I tried not to let it bother me, but the thought of him moving from the loft tore at my guts.
With Sandburg gone for the afternoon, I was free to pursue any of my favorite hobbies. Problem was, I didn't have any that didn't involve Blair. That left me time to think ... always a dangerous thing. Try as I might, my rebellious mind kept coming back to the letter and picture from Carolyn. I'd mop the kitchen floor, then sit and think about the letter. I'd put in a load of laundry and think about it some more.
What could she have wanted? Carolyn always wanted something ... my body, my status, my feelings. But what could she want from Blair? It probably had to do with something she was trying to wheedle out of him about me. She'd make him miserable until he complied. I knew too well how she worked.
It was going on 4:00 when I couldn't stand it any longer and went into Blair's room. He'd tossed the envelope onto his desk. I could still smell the lavender amidst the usual Blair smells of old socks and book dust and seaweed tablets. The note card with a copy of a Monet painting on it was under the envelope and the picture under that. I scooted the envelope aside with my fingernail ... like Sandburg might be dusting for fingerprints later ... then moved the card aside in the same manner.
What I saw in the picture made me forget all about being careful. I picked it up and glared at the image, stunned beyond belief at what I saw. There, sprawled on the floor with her legs wide open, sat a very naked Carolyn Plummer. The whorish pose was unlike anything I'd ever seen from my ex-wife, but there was no mistaking who it was. There was no doubt that the photo was meant to be provocative. Carolyn had posed with the index finger of one hand in her mouth. Her other hand was busy plucking at a pink nipple. My vision then focused in on her pussy and I saw the reddened tip of her clitoris peaking out between shaved lips.
I stared at the photo, unable to comprehend why Carolyn would send such a thing to Sandburg. In all the time we'd been together she'd never seemed inclined to such a thing ... ever. Once, I'd suggested sex in one of the empty interrogation rooms and she'd slapped my face. And that was after we were married!
I snatched up the card. She'd better have a damned good reason for this or I was on the first plane to San Francisco to find out for myself. And then I read the card and damned if she didn't have a good explanation.
Thanks for the great time in Portland. I still get wet just thinking about
how you ate my pussy in the bathroom of the hospitality suite. Such a
I thought you might enjoy a little reminder of what you're missing. Can't
wait to see you again.
I thought I was going to be sick. I dropped down onto Sandburg's bed and let the card fall from my fingers.
Blair and Carolyn? I'd never, ever even considered that a possibility. I knew that Blair had screwed his way through most of the female population of the Cascade P.D., but Carolyn? That was different. Carolyn hated Blair. Carolyn was my ex-wife. Carolyn had been mine.
Unbidden thoughts of my one night stand with Emily Carson sprang to mind, but I pushed them away in anger. That had been different. Jack and Emily hadn't been married. And Jack hadn't been in love with me. How could they have done this horrible thing?
So consumed with rage and revulsion, I never noticed the front door open and Blair come in.
I looked up at his concerned face. And Blair looked down at the floor.
"Oh my god!"
My first thought was that he was back early. Why the hell was he back early? Then something in my brain switched gears and I was suddenly mobile. I leapt to my feet and across the few feet that separated us in a heartbeat. Shoving Sandburg against the wall, I braced one arm under his chin and pressed my torso against his. There was no way he was moving from this spot unless I let him.
"What the hell were you thinking, Sandburg?" I growled. "There weren't enough women in the world for you to fuck that hadn't been married to me so you just thought you'd have Carolyn too? Or was this some sick kind of revenge for me screwing up your life?"
Blair looked confused as he tried to lay his hands on me in a calming gesture. I swatted them away without breaking my hold.
"Screwing up my life? What are you talking about Jim?"
At least he didn't try to deny that he'd fucked my ex-wife. I gave him credit for that.
"I know you didn't wanna be a cop. Little hippie boy like you? Shit, it figures you'd find some way to screw the pigs. I just didn't think you'd take it so literally."
If I hadn't been so furious, I'd have leaned in that extra few inches and kissed Blair right then. He looked so beautiful in his bewilderment ... eyes wide and sparkling, mouth opened slightly, just ready for the next thought to be verbalized, hair flying loosely around his face. But I was on a roll, so I just kept yelling.
"Or maybe it's just your deep-seated desire to learn everything there is to know about Sentinels. I knew you were curious about what it felt like in bed, but Christ, did you have screw Carolyn to find out? What's next, Sandburg? You going to hunt down my long-lost mother and fuck her too?"
And then I saw it happen. I could tell just by watching the moment realization hit those sapphire eyes. A glimmer of an idea had sparked that remarkable brain of his and he sneered back at me, "Who you jealous of, Jim? Carolyn or me?"
I was so unprepared for Sandburg's response, that when he said it, I just dropped away and fell back on the bed. He pressed his advantage and leaned down right into my face.
"You think you're so cool, don't you? The great covert ops agent! There's nothing covert about you, Jim. You think I haven't noticed you watching me? Noticed the boners you get when I wiggle my ass your way? Heard you whimper my name when you come? Sound carries really well in the loft, Jim. You've got no secrets from me and now I guess I've got none from you. Makes us even. And for your information, Carolyn came on to me. Yeah, I screwed her. Hey, I'm not made of stone. But I sure didn't go looking for it."
He stepped back and stopped to compose himself. I wished he hadn't. I wished he stayed enraged. I could have dealt with that. Instead, he took a deep breath, then with an even tone said, "One more thing, Jim. I love being a cop and I love being your partner. I think I'm good at it and with a little time, I'll probably match your conviction rate. But I can't live like this anymore ... with your anger and guilt and rage. You're never going to trust me and I'm going to just keep screwing up. So I think it's time we called it quits. Now, I'm going back to Jess's. I'll be putting in for a transfer in the morning and be out of the loft by Monday."
I stared up at him, unable to put the words that I needed to say together into a coherent sentence. I wanted to jump up and tell him that I was wrong ... that what happened with Carolyn didn't matter ... that nothing mattered except him staying with me. But nothing came out. I just sat there like a big dummy as Blair shook his head sadly, then walked out of my life.
I'm not a man that just sits and lets life slide by. I've always been a take-charge kind of guy. It probably started with Stevie. Mom and Dad couldn't be bothered, so I was the one to watch over him. I made sure he did his homework and went to all his baseball games and I talked to him about sex for the first time. I consoled him when he was sad and beat up the bullies that hurt him.
In the army, I advanced quickly and became a leader of men in the truest sense of the word. My failures there are a matter of record, but I never passed the buck or the blame. Those men that died in Peru were my men ... my responsibility. I should have been able to prevent their deaths. I should have been able to do something. That's a big part of who I am. So why I sat there and let Sandburg walk away, I have no idea.
Inside I was screaming "Wait! Stay! I love you!" Outside I sat like a bump on a log and did nothing. Nothing except flinch when the front door slammed shut behind him. Nothing, that is, except fall back onto Sandburg's bed and roll myself into a fetal position. Nothing except lay there and feel cold and empty and alone.
I tried to convince myself that this was for the best ... that I was used to being alone ... that I didn't need Sandburg like I needed the very air that I breathed. It didn't work. I was just one big ball of hurt. Nothing but self-pity penetrated my consciousness. The pain was all-consuming.
I must have eventually fallen asleep in that position. Even in my dreams, Blair haunted me. Gone were the indigo visions of my naked roommate that I'd had ever since Alex Barnes came to Cascade. That night I kept trying to reach a very alive and very pissed off Sandburg. I would reach through a billow of smoke and he'd be gone. Over and over I tried to grab his arm ... touch him in some way ... but each time he eluded my grasp.
I woke up to the sound of the front door reopening and Blair coming home. He was carrying something, I could tell by the sound of his steps. I cracked an eye open as he walked into his room and saw that he was laden with a stack of broken down cardboard boxes. He stopped when he got to the door of his room. The look on his face was unreadable. I imagined what was behind was horror, disgust, pity.
"Jim, what the hell are you doing?" he asked softly. His words didn't betray any emotions he was feeling.
I didn't respond. Hell, I didn't move. He must have thought I'd zoned because almost instantly he dropped the boxes and rushed to my side. I let my eyes drift shut as he placed a cool hand on my cheek ... a gentle caress of comfort.
"Jim, come on man! Don't do this to me."
He suddenly sounded so panicked. Maybe he didn't hate me completely. I had to respond. I couldn't let him worry unnecessarily, but when I opened my mouth, it was so dry that all that came out was a croak.
"Blair," I finally managed to get out. "I'm sorry."
Sandburg had sat down on the side of the bed and had continued to stroke my face while I struggled to communicate. When I finally spit out the apology, he stopped for a second, then started up again. His face was still expressionless, but his touch was so very tender.
I knew I should make some brave declaration of love ... to beg his forgiveness ... to at least act like a man. Instead, I begged.
"Don't leave me, please?"
"Why Jim? Why do you want me to stay?"
Blair continued to gentle me like a wild animal, all timid touches and soft tones of voice. I responded accordingly. I was always the instrument that he could work any way he wanted.
"Because you're my partner."
He switched positions a bit and began to use the backs of his fingers to graze across my cheek. If the first gesture was meant calm, this surely meant something different. I could feel the effects right down to my groin. I looked up into his eyes and saw that my answer had not been enough.
"And?" he questioned softly.
"And ... you're my friend."
This met with a quirk of his eyebrow. The hand movement stopped, so I reached up and gripped his wrist to keep him from moving away.
"I love you."
Instead of being happy at my revelation, Blair looked devastated. His face seemed to crumple in sadness and I could see the wetness of unshed tears brighten his eyelashes.
"Oh god, Jim. I'm so sorry. Can you ever forgive me? I just keep screwing up. I know I shouldn't have slept with Carolyn. She was just so ... insistent and I was so lonely and I know it was wrong. Please say you forgive me."
Framing his face with my hands, I looked into his sparkling eyes and saw the remorse and pain that I'd inflicted with my jealousy.
"I forgive you, baby. I'll always forgive you. I love you. But can you forgive me for being such a jerk?"
Blair's smiles are amongst the most beautiful things in the world. They seem to shine from deep inside his soul and illuminate everything around him. I live for those smiles. My little speech earned me a real floodlight.
"Of course I can. I love you," he whispered as he leaned down and brushed his lips against mine.
I wanted to make promises that I'd never be jealous again ... that no one and nothing would ever come between us again, but my mouth wouldn't cooperate. So instead I grabbed onto his arms and pulled him on top of me, then rolled us over to give him the kiss that I'd been wanting to bestow on him for the past year ... the kiss that made him mine. He made the most beautiful little breathless noise as I sealed my lips to his. It was so innocent and so erotic and so very Blair that I knew I'd want to recreate it over and over forever.
And that's when I knew. That's when I understood just how many violations of trust and friendship I would take from Blair ... as many as he'd take from me ... as many as it took. Because now that I had him, I wasn't ever letting him go.
Tell Roxanne how you liked it!
Back to Story Index