E-mail: leah_roman@yahoo.com

What an unholy hell of a day. I swear absolutely no one likes you when you work for the CIA. Especially not people in the business. No one will talk to me. I'm an outcast.

I had heard a rumor about a Columbian drug cartel being involved with a high executive at a British oil company. A little digging, a few discreet questions, but I had turned up nothing specific. As if those damned, smug Brits would ask for help when they so clearly could use it. Hell, the Americans have been fighting the war on drugs since the days of "Just Say No" and Nancy Reagan. We do know about this stuff. If Tom or Harry ever asked for my help, I think I'd fall instantly dead at their feet.

Oh well. Nothing I can do about it now. Don't get me wrong; I understand the need for secrecy, but really! We're all on the same team, here. The only answers I got were it is an internal matter. We can handle it ourselves. Fine. Have it your way. So I washed my hands of the whole thing and decided to call it a day.

I have one secret pleasure that absolutely no one knows about. I think if Tom ever did find out, I would be mortally embarrassed. It's not abnormal or anything. In fact it's probably the most normal thing about me. After a shitty day, when I've gotten nowhere with the endless questions and threats and secret deals, I like to go home, light some scented candles and slip into a steaming hot bubble bath. Yeah, I know. I like to give the impression that I'm the ultimate hard-nosed, tough-as-nails, been there-done that, cynical spy there ever was. But the truth is I like comfortable, homey things. If you look close, it's not even that hard to tell. All you have to do is notice the soft, comfy sweaters I wear to keep that damned, damp London chill at bay.

I went up to my condo, turned the heat ridiculously high, and started my bath. I inhaled deeply and surrounded myself with the scent of flowers. I went into the bedroom and shed my clothes, pulling on a big fluffy robe. For a moment, I lay on my bed and closed my eyes allowing myself some time to rest. After a few minutes, I went to check the tub. It was full so I turned off the water, shed the robe and stuck a toe cautiously into the water. It was wonderfully steamy, almost too hot. Just as I was about to slide into the bath, the phone rang. Just my luck. I pulled the robe back on and dashed into the living room to answer it.

"Hello?" My tone made it clear that I was in no mood to talk to anyone.

"Christine?" The voice was hesitant. It was also the last person I wanted to talk to at the moment.

"Tom? What do you want?" The last time I talked to him, he told me we probably shouldn't see each other any more. He shouldn't be fraternizing with foreign operatives. It wasn't good for national security. God, sometimes I wanted to beat that goody two shoes mentality out of him.

"Christine, I need to see you." I almost considered telling him no. After all, I had my cherished bubble bath waiting for me and I really didn't want to play his little game tonight. I just didn't have the energy. But there seemed to be a note of desperation in his voice. There was clearly something wrong. And he was turning to me. I gave in almost without a conscious decision. What was it about him? I couldn't refuse him anything.

"Are you at home?"

"Yeah. Will you come? I need you."

I couldn't believe he said the words. Tom always tried to seem so strong. He made people believe he didn't need anyone. And now he was calling, out of the blue, and asking me to see him. How could I refuse?

"Give me twenty minutes. I'll be there," I told him.

He sighed into the phone. "Thank you. I'll see you soon." He sounded close to tears. As I hung up the phone, I wondered what could possibly have him so upset.

Regretfully, I pulled the plug in the tub and went into the bedroom. I grabbed one of my warm, comfy sweaters and a pair of jeans. I dressed quickly, and in a couple of minutes I was out the door.

I knocked on the door and it opened instantly, as if Tom had been waiting right there for me.

"This had better be good, Tom Quinn," I said with some annoyance as he stepped aside to let me in. I still wasn't sure I appreciated being called away from my bubble bath only for Tom to tell me that this wasn't right. Why couldn't he just dump me over the phone like a normal guy?

He stepped aside wordlessly to let me in and went immediately to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of Scotch and a couple of glasses. I dropped my purse on the coffee table and waited for... something. Tom certainly was different. His movements were tired and resigned. His eyes seemed distant and lifeless. I watched in bewilderment as he poured drinks for us and settled himself on the sofa. He offered a glass to me and swallowed half of his in one gulp. As I sipped, he gave himself another triple. I wasn't feeling at all patient, and I certainly didn't want to sit here and get drunk while Tom debated the fate of our relationship. The operation that had been distracting him was apparently over and I figured that he had invited me over to "take stock" as he said he would. I put my glass down and stood at the side of the sofa. I felt increasingly jittery as I waited and I found myself fighting the urge to pace.

He stared into his drink for a few minutes, then took a deep breath and looked at me.

"I want you," he said quietly, "and I need you."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I held my arms open as he came to me. I was surprised when he burst into tears in my embrace.

He wept like a child as I held him to my breast. I don't know how long we stayed that way. I stroked his hair and rocked him gently, trying to calm him down. He was quiet as the tears rolled down his face; only an occasional sob and my soft soothing noises broke the silence in the room.

To tell the truth, this was making me a little nervous. I knew how strongly he felt about his work and that he took everything that happened on the job personally. He wasn't the type of person who could detach his emotions from his work. It would probably be his downfall. People who couldn't depersonalize the job tended to burn out fast. Tom felt everything and wouldn't let anything go. It was one of his most frustrating and endearing qualities. It was part of what made him so good at what he did. People saw his honest, open face and would tell him anything. I had fallen victim to those puppy dog eyes and that small smile of his more times than I cared to admit.

Eventually his tears slowed and stopped. He slowly pulled away from me and sniffed a couple of times. He refused to look me directly in the eye.

"Tom," I asked as gently as I could, "what happened?"

I wondered if he was going to tell me, or if he would decide that it was classified and he couldn't tell me. I hoped he would talk to me because whatever he was feeling was eating him up inside. He needed to get it out so that he could move on with his life. I knew he had been through some rough times at work recently, but something had obviously come to a head. I hoped whatever had happened wouldn't destroy him either personally or professionally. He was too good an officer and too good a man to lose. As we drank, I debated which tactic would work best to get the information out of him. Good cop or bad cop? Should I be tough and drag the information out of him or should I be patient and let him reveal it to me in his own time. God, it just purely sucked that I was even considering using the techniques I had developed for work on someone who was this important to me. But in his way, Tom was asking for my help. He needed me to do this. As he refilled his glass and took another healthy swig, I made my decision.

"You need to talk to me, Tom," I said in a no-nonsense voice. "I need to know what happened. Why did you need to see me?"

He tossed back the rest of his Scotch and set the glass on the coffee table. Then he buried his face in his hands and started to cry again. I put my glass next to his and put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"Tom," I whispered in his ear as I stroked his hair again, "talk to me. Please."

"Something happened at work today," he said as he leaned his head on my shoulder.

Yeah, like I hadn't already figured that out. I am, after all, a highly trained observer of people. I had no choice but to play along and let him tell it in his own way. I continued stroking his hair while I waited for him to gather his thoughts. Tom wasn't the type of person who would just ramble. He needed to know exactly what he was going to say before the first word came out of his mouth. Self-censoring is one of the first things a good officer learns.

After a few more minutes of comfort, Tom pulled back a little. My arm was still draped over his shoulders, but there was a small distance between us.

"A girl, an asset, died today," he said with a mix of tiredness and bitterness in his words.

I suppressed a sigh. Tom's respect for life was a rarity in our line of work. There was a reason that the people in our networks were referred to as assets. It was too hard to think of people dying for us. We could get over losing an asset, but to think of people dying for us would just make things too hard.

I hugged him a little closer to me. "These things happen, Tom," I reminded him as gently as I could.

"We manipulated her and then we hung her out to dry," he responded angrily. "She deserved better."

"They all do," I whispered. I could feel my cold detachment slipping away. Damn it! I couldn't let this happen. If I lost it, I would be a bigger basket case than Tom. He needed me to pull him back, not fall into the abyss with him.

"Do you know how she died?" he asked, his voice rising with anger.

"Tell me."

"The bastard cut the tendons in her wrists and ankles so she couldn't move and then stabbed her in such a way that she bled out slowly over the course of hours." He pulled away from me and buried his face in his hands again. "By the time Harry decided to tell me, there was nothing I could do. I held her in my arms as she died. It never even occurred to Harry to try to protect her." He let out a roar of frustration and anger and curled up on the couch in the fetal position.

I draped my body over his to share the warmth of human contact. As he wept, I kissed him just above his ear. He needed comfort. He needed to be reminded that there was more to life than lies and death. I gently brushed my hand across his forehead following my hand with my lips. I kissed his cheek and tasted the salt of his tears. He tried to move under me, so I pulled back slightly to give him some space. He turned onto his back and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to him. I rested my forehead against his and brushed a gentle kiss to his lips.

"It'll be okay, Tom," I whispered against his mouth. "You'll get through this."

"I wish I could be sure of that," he said with a small sardonic laugh.

"I'm here for you," I told him as I stroked his cheek. "You're not alone."

"I'm glad you're here," he said with the tiny smile that he probably knew never failed to melt my heart.

One of his hands reached around the back of my head and pulled me into a deep kiss. He licked my lips until I opened my mouth to let him in. His hands were restless on my back and sides. One minute he was massaging my back through my sweater, the next minute his hands were tangled in my hair. His fingers ghosted along my cheekbones and the line of my jaw. Then he reached under the hem of my sweater to touch my bare skin. Through it all he never broke the kiss. His tongue pressed and licked against my tongue and teeth. We were both breathing heavily by the time I regained enough of myself to pull away.

"Tom, what are you doing?" I had withdrawn enough to see his face, but his hands were still on my sides underneath my sweater.

"Please, Christine, I need you," he whispered. He drew his hands up along my ribs until they rested just under my breasts. "Please stay." His thumbs rubbed my nipples through my bra and I gasped.

"Tom," I breathed, not quite succeeding in pulling away from him, "this probably isn't a good idea." My head was swimming from his kiss and his touch.

He pulled me back down to him and nuzzled the hollow below my ear. "Please stay with me tonight," he breathed softly against my skin. After a lingering kiss on my throat, he gently rolled out from under me and stood. "Come with me?" He smiled and held a hand out to me.

I shivered, as my skin was suddenly cold without his touch. I struggled to bring my thoughts under control. Part of my brain was screaming at me to stop this before it went any further, but he looked at me with his big blue eyes and smiled that smile and my heart told my brain to shut the fuck up.

I stood and hesitantly put my hand in his. Without a word he turned and led me to his bedroom. As we approached his bed he faced me and pulled me into a fierce kiss. He brought our joined hands between our bodies so that I could feel his growing hardness. He rolled his hips pressing himself against my hand. All of my attention was focused on the bulge I held in my hand and the suggestive way his tongue was moving in my mouth. That's the only excuse I had for not noticing when he undid the button and zipper of my jeans and slid them down my hips to the floor. I gasped in surprise and delight when he cupped my butt with his hands and lifted me off the floor.

"Kick them off," he growled as he nibbled my earlobe.

With a girlish giggle that would have been downright embarrassing in another situation I fluttered my legs a little, managing to toe off my shoes and socks while I was at it. I made sure to add an extra little wiggle against his hips. He moaned appreciatively and gently bit the side of my neck in encouragement. When my jeans were on the floor he put me down and slid his hands up my back, pulling me tight against him. I reached around him and tugged his shirt out of his pants and ran my hands up the firm muscles of his back. Meanwhile, his long nimble fingers were busy undoing the clasps of my bra. As I leaned into him I reached under the sleeves of my sweater and pulled the straps of the bra off and let it slide to the floor. I found myself in his arms suddenly wearing nothing but my sweater, which just managed to cover my panties. Abruptly he pulled back slightly and held me at arms' length. The look in his eyes was so intense and carnal, I began to feel heat pooling inside me.

"God, you look sexy like that," he said.

His words made me blush. I mean guys had always told me I was hot, but never like that. Tom's words held so much passion. Suddenly this little encounter was becoming much bigger than I was prepared to handle. My mind filled with doubts even as my body took over and started unbuttoning his shirt. Once again, my heart took charge and overruled my head.

I took the opportunity as I pushed his shirt off his shoulders to rub the palms of my hands over his nipples. I let my fingers drift through the crisp hair sprinkled across his chest.

He wrapped his arms around me and leaned in for another breathtakingly deep kiss. His tongue drove forcefully into my mouth tasting every surface he could reach. He suddenly growled into the kiss.

"I want to feel you," he breathed against my mouth. In a swift and fluid motion he swept my sweater over my head and let it fall to the floor. I stood before him clad only in my blue silk panties. He dropped to his knees with stunning grace and looked up my body and into my eyes.

"You are a beautiful woman, Christine." He put his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach. "I don't deserve you," he whispered.

My hands came around his head and I stroked his hair and cheek. "You're a good man, Tom, and you do good work. You deserve to be happy."

He sighed and kissed my stomach. With growing passion he placed more soft kisses on my skin. He rubbed the stubble on his cheek against me, and then soothingly licked the area. As his tongue delved into my belly button, I moaned and my knees grew weak. I felt his strong arms supporting my weight to keep me from falling. He gently nudged my legs farther apart and mouthed and tongued the small piece of silk that still covered me. My head dropped back and I sighed loudly as I grew wet from the outside and the inside. My hips started bucking of their own accord and I was breathing in harsh short pants.

"Ah, Tom," I tried to say as I fought to pull air into my lungs.

"Too much?" he chuckled richly.

He slowly knelt up, dragging his cheek along my sensitive, over-stimulated skin. He kissed a circle around the outside of my breast, spiraling slowly closer to my nipple, which was already standing up waiting for attention. My breath exhaled in a deep moan as he captured it in his teeth and teased it with his tongue.

My brain finally came back online as he kissed his way to my other breast. I realized that it was pointless for us to fight our attraction to each other. Even if this wasn't good for national security, it was so right for us. Tom and I understood each other and the job that we do in a way that simply wasn't possible for someone on the outside to understand. We could accept the aspects of each other's lives that were ugly. We could understand the need to do things we weren't always proud of. We didn't have to hide from each other.

My attention was brought back to the present as Tom gently bit down on my nipple. The sound I made was somewhere between a squeal and a sigh.

"Where were you just then?" He looked into my eyes with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

"I was just thinking, that's all," I answered with a kiss to the top of his head.

"I think we've both done enough thinking for now."

He surged to his feet and swept me up in his arms and carried me to the bed. We fell in a tangled heap and laughed as we clung to each other.

"I think at least one of us is wearing far too many clothes," I said as I ran my hands over his jeans clad butt. I reached between us and with a lot of unnecessary wiggling, managed to work his pants open and down his hips. He turned the tables on me and rolled on top of me as he shimmied out of his clothes.

He supported most of his weight on his arms, but the feel of his body pressing me into the mattress made me feel warm and liquid inside. He nuzzled his face against my neck and into my hair. The heat of his breath burned through me.

"Tom," I moaned as I threaded my fingers through his soft hair, "I want you right now."

My words seemed to jolt him into action. He slid his hands down my sides and hooked his thumbs in my panties. He pulled them swiftly over my hips and off my legs. In order to accomplish this, he worked his way down my body until his face was just above my hips. I shivered in anticipation as he kissed his way from my belly button to the place where I wanted him most. I watched enthralled as he slowly lowered his head to my curls and inhaled deeply. He exhaled his warm breath into my center. The sight of his head moving between my legs was one of the most erotic things I had ever seen. Just as I let out a frustrated moan, he dipped his tongue into me. It was a gentle exploration, and I dropped my head back to the bed with a happy sigh.

He nuzzled, licked and nipped, quickly finding my most sensitive spots. I was nearly screaming from his attentions and he kept my hips in place with an arm across my stomach. When his tongue circled the small bundle of nerves that had been throbbing with need, my back arched off the bed. He closed his lips around it and I came suddenly and explosively. As I came down, he licked up my juices with long, gentle strokes.

When I was coherent enough to open my eyes again, his head was resting on my thigh and he was looking up at me with a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Hey you," I asked as I stroked his hair, "what's wrong?"

He planted a quick kiss into my curls. "Nothing. I was just thinking, that's all," he answered, cracking a more genuine grin.

I matched the mischievous gleam in his eye as I pulled him up until his face was level with mine. "I think we've both done enough thinking for now," I said, reversing our earlier roles. I decided that there was a certain truth to the words. Tom and I had both done far too much thinking of late. It was time for the two of us to turn our brains off, shut out the world, and just be happy for a little while. To this end, I took his face in my hands and kissed him quite thoroughly.

As we kissed he rolled us onto our sides and drew my leg over his hip. Our tongues twisted around each other as he reached between our bodies and guided himself inside me.

My moan was swallowed by our mouths our tongues sweeping every surface they could reach. He thrust slowly into me. The angle was deep and satisfying and I rolled my hips, rubbing myself against him on every stroke.

"Ah," he whispered against my cheek, "that's so good."

He rolled onto his back and held me close; mimicking the position we'd shared on the couch. Again, his hands swept restlessly over my body.

I pulled my knees under me and sat up to increase my leverage. His hands finally settled on my hips, guiding my thrusts. I leaned back and rested my hands on his thighs behind me in order to deepen the contact between us.

He reached up and squeezed my breast. His fingers closed around my nipple and pinched almost roughly. I moaned in delight and arched my back to encourage his attentions. I rode him frantically, feeling the orgasm rising slowly within me. His hips slammed up to meet every thrust.

"Tom, I'm so close," I breathed in frustration. We were both breathing heavily, hovering on the brink but not quite able to topple over. "Please, Tom, I need more." We moved desperately against each other, trying to find completion together.

He sat up and pulled himself against me. One of his large hands rested on my butt and the other one snaked down between us to touch me. As he rubbed against me and thrust strongly into me I finally came, screaming and grunting my pleasure. "Oh Jesus, Tom," I cried, "Oh God, Tom. Oh Tom!!!" I slammed myself onto him one more time and felt warm liquid spurting inside me.

"Oh, Christine," he grunted as he came. He held me close for a few moments as we floated slowly back to reality. He laid us back on the bed and kept me on top of him as he softened and slipped out of me. We kissed languidly for a while until I pulled back and stroked his cheek.

"Feeling better?" I asked him with a smile.

He answered with a genuine smile of his own. "Yeah, I think I am."

"I'm glad," I told him and kissed him again.

We got under the covers and he wrapped himself around me like a little boy with a teddy bear. I held him tight and hoped fervently that we would both sleep well.

"Sweet dreams," I whispered as I snuggled into his chest.

"Thanks Christine. I-" he paused for a moment. "Goodnight."

I didn't miss the hesitation. What had he been about to say? I decided to let it slide. We were both too tired and emotionally drained to deal with anything else tonight. Whatever he had been about to say could wait until morning. "Goodnight."

I felt sleep pulling me under. I didn't realize how tired I really was. I stifled a yawn and wiggled my way into a more comfortable position. I felt Tom kiss the top of my head and pull me close.

"I love you, Christine," I thought I heard him whisper as sleep claimed me. I was too out of it to think about it then, but when I thought about it later, I wondered if I really heard it, or if it was only a dream.

End

© 2003 Leah R. Roman