Disclaimer: Miss Parker and Jarod were so sexually frustrated they have defected to live out their fantasies in my fan fiction. Just kidding. The Pretender and all its characters belong to Pretender Productions and TNT.

Author ‘s Notes: Please, nobody take this little story seriously. It‘s just a little smut biscuit because I was feeling a bit down, so I wrote something really smutty to cheer myself up. No plot involved here. I was reading some old favorites (yes, they were smut too, and deliciously so, I might add), when I realized I‘ve never written anything truly plotless. So here it is.

Ah, and in case you ‘re wondering about the title: Whilst reading my well thumbed copy of Star Trek: The Next Generation Companion I became intrigued with the idea of a bottle show. A bottle show being when a series is running low on cash, so it will write a script that doesn ‘t need a huge budget, perhaps setting it all in the one place. I thought, what would happen if a Pretender story was set all in the one place? What if it was set all in the one room? What if Miss Parker and Jarod were in the one room? What if they were hot, causing one or more of them to start shedding clothes? Then I spent half an hour staring into space. Then I took a shower. I painted my nails and stared into space a bit more. Then I heated up some canned dead meat and ate it with toast. And finally I went and WROTE THE STORY.

Here is the result. Sorry for my abnormally long ramblings...

The Bottle Show

by Mandy

Ten feet wide and twelve feet long. A TV that was made before Christ, and a double bed that used to be a queens size, but has now shrunken into tight little lumps. A mini-fridge full of beer, cheese and crackers, a ceiling fan on the verge of giving up the ghost and a wobbly wooden bedside table. Some shelves with some musty smelling bed linen on it. A microscopic bathroom that hasn‘t been cleaned since Reagan was in.  And a very locked door.

This has to be Jarod‘s fault.

‘This has to be your fault.’‘ I tell him. Jarod turns away from the very locked door to glare at me.

‘Don ‘t. Start.’‘ He enunciates carefully, then turns back to the door. I pull out a nail file, shifting my ass on the bed to try and get comfy.

 Jarod turns around again, staring at my nail file. My long, thin, metal nail file.

‘Give me that!’‘ Jarod demands harshly. I roll my eyes, passing it to him. I know what he‘s thinking and I‘ve already thought of that.

‘I know what you‘re thinking and I‘ve already thought of that!’‘ I say, too loudly. Jarod turns back to the door, swearing when he realises the hinges are on the other side. He turns to the keyhole.

‘Hello! Big bolt on the other side, genius, we both heard it slide home.‘‘ I yell. I study my nails. ‘Can I have my file back now?’‘

‘So, what?’‘ Jarod snarls, thrusting the file at me. ‘We sit here in this steam room and wait to be found?’‘

‘The windows are just waiting to be opened.’‘ I sigh, and wave at the windows. The two long windows with enough bars across them so that there‘s no chance in hell of either of us climbing through it, even if I did want to ruin my two hundred dollar dress. Not to mention the shoes. And *silk* stockings. Not pantyhose, but stockings. Garters and all. I was meant to be having a good time today.

‘Fine.’‘ Jarod mutters, and leaps up onto the bed. I squeal as he rocks the bed, striding across the bed and reaching for the windows. He stands over my legs, shoving the windows open. Brilliant. They‘re the kind that only open halfway. So much for a cool breeze. I hate Louisiana. In fact, I hate everywhere right now. Jarod hops down from the bed, crashing his way into the bathroom. No window there, either. He swears again, emerging to stand over the bed, glowering at me. I file my nails. Polish needs a touch-up.

‘I can ‘t believe you.’‘ He finally growls in disgust. I shrug, and one silk shoulder strap slips.  The bodice of my gorgeous dress drops a little. Jarod sheds his suit jacket, and flops on the bed beside me in defeat.

We sit in silence. A fly buzzes in, bats around a bit then buzzes out again. The fan overhead turns slowly, moving the hot air around but not cooling it. Sweat is beginning to make my dress stick in all the wrong places.  Then again, Jarod ‘s casting sidelong glances at me. Maybe it is in all the right places. I uncross my legs, my back against the headboard, shift, then recross them. Jarod watches every move.

‘Nice dress.’‘ He says gruffly. I smile tightly. A peace offering.

‘Nice suit.’‘ I tell him. He shrugs. An unspoken truce.

‘Versace?’‘ he asks. I nod.

‘Armani?’‘ I ask. He nods.

‘Only the best.’‘ Jarod murmurs. I snicker.

‘Anybody would think you were gay. Does the words ‘Martha Stewart ‘ make you go all tingly, Jarod?’‘ I sneer. Dead silence. A beat. Two beats. A whole moment passes. Then there‘s a sound that ‘s a little like a strangled cough. I look at Jarod.

‘You ‘re laughing!’‘ I accuse. Jarod tries to pull a straight face.

‘I am not!’‘ he exclaims solemnly, then ruins the effect by making a choked giggle. He ‘s teetering on the edge of open amusement.

‘Martha Stewart.’‘ Jarod mumbles to himself, and drops his head to his chest in an attempt to hide a smile. I grin. The moment passes.

‘What the hell were you doing at Veronica Dolliag ‘s garden party?’‘ He asks finally. I smile bitterly.

‘Daddy sent me. They used to date. One of the family had to attend to pay their respects, and I drew the short straw.’‘ I explain. Jarod nods. ‘And you?’‘ I ask.

‘Investigating Dr Charles Dolliag. He invited me to his mother‘s birthday party.’‘ Jarod tells me. I ‘m not surprised. Everybody likes Jarod, even the people he‘s out to get.

‘That must be the reason he took great offence to you rummaging through his things, suspected both of us and pulled a gun.’‘

Jarod shrugs.

‘Not my fault you followed me into the study. We‘re just lucky that the good doctor didn ‘t want to ruin his mother ‘s party by redecorating. Wall paper a la brain matter.’‘ Jarod jokes. I chuckle, then contemplate my adorable shoes.

‘Can ‘t believe the old bag finally turned sixty.’‘ I mutter. Jarod chuckles.

‘I ‘ve been told that Veronica ‘s parties are always the social spotlight of the season.’‘ Jarod murmurs. I snort derisively.

‘The Mardi Gras is the spotlight, Jarod. Veronica ‘s parties are a dim globe rigged with gaffer tape off to one side of the main stage.’‘

‘Ah.’‘

I hate awkward silences.  And this has to be the most uncomfortable bed in human history. We‘d better get out of here before tomorrow. I do not want to sleep here.

‘Where ‘s your cell?’‘ Jarod asks suddenly, reaching for my purse. I snatch it away from him, sniffing disdainfully.

‘Delaware. Along with my beeper and my gun. Thank your lucky stars for that last one.’‘ I really, really wish I had my gun right now. Jarod sags back against the bed.

‘Thought you took your cell everywhere...’‘ he mumbles.

‘Well, in some twisted way, it makes sense that I stumble across you the one time I leave it behind.’‘ I grumble. Jarod nods absentmindedly, staring at the wall. Afternoon sunshine falls across the bed. Its hot, and its going to get hotter. I grab Jarod‘s wrist and check his watch. Rolex?  Just past one. I drop his wrist. Jarod frowns.

‘You paint your toenails?’‘ he gasps incredulously, his nose wrinkled up a bit. I look down at my strappy stiletto sandals, said nails shining a glossy pink. Matches my dress.

‘Women do it a lot Jarod.’‘ I say, and Jarod stares at my feet in bemusement. In fact, I had the whole deal, pedicure, manicure and facial.

‘Whatever.’‘ He mumbles under his breath. I elbow him in the ribs. He makes an ‘ooph ‘ noise, and wriggles.

‘Quit squirming.’‘ I snap. He shrugs, and rests his head back on the headboard. Stares at the ceiling for awhile.

‘He‘s not coming back, is he?’‘ Jarod finally says. I shake my head.

‘This isn‘t a practical joke Jarod. He‘s locked us in the middle of frikkin ‘ nowhere, and he ‘s gone back to Veronica ‘s little garden party. Maybe he ‘ll be back after that, but thanks to your poking around, it will probably be to kill us. Thankyou very much.’‘

‘How long do Veronica ‘s ‘little garden parties ‘ usually last?’‘

‘The weekend.’‘ I state. I know. I had to go a few years ago. I got as drunk as possible as quickly as possible and spent the weekend fending of Charles and his pals more amorous advances.

‘Sorry Parker. I‘ll find a way out.’‘ Jarod says quietly. Damn him.

‘You‘re not on my Christmas card list anymore.’‘ I say belligerently.  Jarod tries to suppress a laugh, but fails miserably.

My thighs are beginning to stick together. Damn this heat.

‘You smell nice!’‘ Jarod says abruptly. I glower at him.

‘If that‘s some attempt to be funny, I swear to God-’‘

‘No, really, you smell nice!’‘ Jarod interrupts. He leans into me and sniffs delicately. ‘Kinda tangy. Bit musky. Sweet.’‘ I remember the dabs of perfume I put on this morning. Behind my ears, on my wrists, between my breasts. Named simply B04711, the perfume my mother used to wear. Jarod leans in even closer to my neck and snuffles around some more. I open my purse and pull out a tiny glass bottle, unscrewing the lid. I wave it under his nose.

‘Like this?’‘ Jarod sits back, taking the bottle from me, closing his eyes and inhaling.

‘Very nice.’‘ He purrs. He‘s got this look of bliss on his face. I grab the bottle away, screw the lid on and put it away. Jarod eyes my purse.

‘What else you got in there?’‘ he ventures with a smile. Just what I don‘t need. Playful Jarod. He grabs the purse before I can protest, rummaging through it. Might as well let him. He‘ll sook unless he gets to play with my stuff.

Jarod pulls out my lipstick, takes the lid of, winds the stick up and gazes at the colour. He looks at my lips, looks at the colour, then looks at my breasts. I frown.

‘Go like this.’‘ Jarod drags his eyes back up to mine and demonstrates a pout. I groan. ‘Come on. I‘ve never put make-up on a woman before.‘‘ He pleads. I close my eyes, lean forward and pout.

‘Jarod, most men have never put lipstick on a woman before.’‘ I mumble.

‘Hold still.’‘

 Jarod catches my chin with his hand, bringing it forward. He must be close; I can feel his breath on my cheek. Then comes the familiar sensation of lipstick being applied, the waxy texture sliding across my mouth. Jarod‘s breathing has grown a little erratic, and he smudges more colour over my lips. The firm press of the lipstick leaves, but his hand on my chin doesn‘t. I rub my lips together to spread the colour. Jarod sighs. I hear the lid snapping back on the lipstick, but his hand doesn‘t let me go.  In fact, it drops lower, cupping the arch of my throat. I keep my eyes closed. I feel one long finger slide across my collar bone and the other strap of my dress slip off my shoulder. I am so completely aware that this must leave my breasts half exposed. Almost to the nipple, perhaps.

‘All done.’‘ Jarod breathes. He withdraws his hands and the slight fan of his breath is no longer on my cheek. I open my eyes, furious.

‘You fucker!’‘ I growl, and storm into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I can hear Jarod laughing on the other side.

****

It ‘s hotter in the bathroom than the other room, and after only twenty minutes I ‘m sweating like Roseanne after a quick walk. Damn him. I can hear him shifting about, the TV on. Cartoons or something, the way he ‘s laughing with glee. I ‘ll make him suffer for what he did to me. I ‘ll make him suffer in the worse way. I fling the door open and stan

d in the doorway, glaring at him. Jarod spares a quick glance from the TV to look at me, then quickly looks away. He chuckles as Wile E Coyote falls off yet another cliff.

I stroll over to ‘my ‘ side of the bed, picking up my purse. I really am starting to smell. I take out my little bottle of perfume, and pour a few drops onto my hands. Jarod casts another quick glance at me, but I pointedly ignore him. Then I arch my back, tip my head back and start smoothing the perfume onto my neck in long, caressing strokes. Jarod gulps. A few more drops on my hands and I start on my chest. My dress has done wonderful things to my breasts, being tight across the bodice, pressing them up and out. I smooth my hands down my breastbone and across the tops of my breasts, which bounce invitingly with the motion. Jarod now has his eyes glued to my chest. Time for phase 2.

The beer, straight from the mini-fridge, is refreshingly cool in my hot little hands. I deliberately knock it on the fridge door on the way out, then twist the lid off. Good little thing that it is, it froths, and runs over a little. What a mess, have to clean that up straight away. With my tongue of course. I have Jarod‘s complete and undivided attention as I lick the dribble of overflowing beer from the side of the bottle. Making sure to catch every drop, I make slow progress, licking and lapping at the long, thick, bottle, finally reaching the top, only to wrap my mouth around the rim tightly and throw my head back, taking a long, deep draw...

I think he groaned. Or, at least, tried to stifle a groan. Phase three.

The temperature is close to unbearable, and I can see Jarod is sweating quite heavily in his dark trousers and business shirt. At some stage he‘s shed his shoes and socks, leaving him barefoot. Very carefully I place my beer on top of the fridge and step out of my sandals. Jarod gulps as I reach under my skirt, letting it ride up a bit, and begin to remove one stocking, smoothing it down my leg with my open palms, revealing bare, silky skin. I happen to know that my legs are my best asset, and I ‘ll make sure that Jarod fully appreciates that. Jarod makes a strangled noise when I toss the discarded stocking on the bed near him, and is damn close to panting as I start on the other stocking.

This time I prop my leg up on the bed, the skirt of my dress falling so that Jarod just barely avoids getting an eyeful. I finally tug the scrap of sheer silk off my toes and toss it on the bed. Jarod ‘s eyes are as big as saucers as I clamber up onto the bed beside him, crawling over to bring my lips close to his ear, making sure my breasts are pressing against his arm. I can see his hands twitching in his lap, like he wants to touch me but doesn ‘t dare.

‘Jarod?’‘ I sigh in his ear, porn star-esque. He makes some little choked up noises which I take to be an answer. I place my hand on his shoulder and rub my breasts against him.

‘Don ‘t ever fuck with the master!’‘ I snap, and shove. Jarod topples off the bed, landing on his ass with a thud and staring up at me in surprise. I cackle with laughter.

I suppose I asked for it. Hell, I know I asked for it. Teasing Miss Parker is just asking for trouble. We sit, side by side, in stony silence. Just like we have for the last three hours. I check my watch. Almost five, now. It’s beginning to cool down a little, but I’m still tempted to shed my shirt. I glare at one silk stocking, still sitting on the bed. That was my downfall. Those damn legs of hers.

‘‘I suppose we should ration the cheese and crackers.’‘ Miss Parker speaks, for the first time since her laughing fit subsided. I grunt in acknowledgement as she gets up and goes to the fridge. She bends down and rummages around inside the fridge. That woman has one hell of an ass on her.

‘‘Get your eyes off the prize Jarod.’‘ Parker calls. She comes back to the bed and sits down. To my surprise she passes me a beer. I look her in the eye, wary of the glint there.

‘‘Truce.’‘ She proclaims, and sticks a hand out. I shake. Truces with Miss Parker are my Holy Grail. The idea is nice, but I don’t think it was ever meant to be found.

Parker grins evilly, then starts in on the food. We sit, munch and drink in companionable silence. There’s Happy Days reruns on. I flick another button undone on the front of my shirt. Ah hell. I put down my beer and wrestle my shirt off, singlet too, tossing it on the floor. Miss Parker casts a sneaky glance at my body. It would seem I’m not the only one in lust here. A brooding silence ensues. This is probably all a part of Dr Charles’ plan. Kill us through sexual frustration. Oooh. That’s a good one.

‘‘This is probably all a part of Dr Charles’ plan. Kill us through...‘‘ then again, she doesn’t need her gun to kill me, ‘‘Kill us through boredom.’‘ I say, catching myself just in time. Miss Parker shifts to look at me. Uh oh.

‘‘You want to play a game Jarod?’‘ I’m not sure I like her tone. I think I love it. I draw my knees up so I’m half kneeling, facing her.

‘‘Okay. What sort of game?’‘ I ask. She grins, dangerously, dragging her eyes over my body. I gulp.

‘‘Ever heard of Truth or Dare?’‘ she asks coyly. I shake my head. Sounds fun.

‘‘What happens is that I ask you what you want, truth, dare, double dare, torture, kiss or promise. You pick one. Truth means that you have to answer any question I ask you with complete honesty. Dare means you have to do anything I dare you to do. Double dare means we both have to do whatever I say. Torture means I get to torture you in some way. Promise means you have to promise to do whatever I ask.’‘ Parker explains. Did it just get hotter in here? I lick my lips. She forgot one.

‘‘What about kiss? You forgot to tell me what kiss meant.’‘ I say breathlessly. Miss Parker smiles and leans in towards me in a conspiratorial manner. I can smell that perfume, that damn heavenly perfume.

‘‘Kiss,’‘ she begins, placing a big emphasis on the word, ‘‘Means that you have to kiss whatever, or whoever I say.’‘

Her mouth is about one inch away from mine. Oh god.

‘‘I choose kiss.’‘ I whisper.

Kiss me, kiss me, please kiss me, oh god please kiss me...

‘‘Kiss the wall.’‘ Parker says, sitting up straight and pointing at the wall. I blink in surprise, look at the wall, then look at her again.

‘‘Huh?’‘

Brilliant answer Jarod.

‘‘You have to kiss whatever I say. I say kiss the wall.’‘ Miss Parker says, then looks at me expectantly. I suppress a groan, climb off the bed and advance on the wall. I’m sure its got about three inches of grime on it.

‘‘Mwah!’‘ I say, planting one on the wall. The wall looks pleased, if walls can express emotions. Parker giggles.

Giggles. The Ice Queen giggles. I think I like this game after all.

‘‘Okay. My turn now?’‘ I ask, jumping back on the bed. Parker grins.

‘‘I pick double dare.’‘ She says.

I double dare us to fuck like bunnies.

‘‘I double dare us to...both touch the bed. Hey look, we’re already doing it, my turn now?’‘ I say quickly, and smirk. Miss Parker rolls her eyes.

‘‘Pick one.’‘

‘‘I pick...’‘ this involves a lot of thought. Torture sounds interesting, but it may be of the painful variety.

‘‘I pick truth.’‘ I say finally. Sounds safe. Miss Parker thinks for a moment before asking.

‘‘What’s your favourite sexual position?’‘

Oh. My. God.

‘‘Huh?’‘

‘‘You heard me.’‘

We get to ask sex questions!!

‘‘Wom...Woman on top.’‘ I say nervously. Last time I checked, you don’t casually discuss your favourite sexual positions with your would-be captor. But who am I to protest?

‘‘Nice.’‘ Parker murmurs, narrowing her eyes. ‘‘Okay, me. I pick... dare.’‘

Now this requires thought. What can I get her to do that won‘t make her get really mad, hit me and storm off into the bathroom, yet still encourages me to get tingly all over?

It’s hot in here.

‘‘I dare you to undo my pants with your teeth.’‘ Please don’t hit me, I tack on silently. Miss Parker arches her perfect brows at me. I grin.

‘‘I have boxers on. And it’s hot.’‘ I say cheekily. Miss Parker shrugs, then begins to advance on all fours. I think I’ve stopped breathing.

I lean back against the headboard, inhaling deeply. Miss Parker plants her hands on either side of my hips, lowering her head to my belt. I don’t know if I can take the sight of her face hovering over my groin. I look up at the ceiling, then back down at her again. I don’t think

I can miss it either.

‘‘Hold. Still.’‘ Miss Parker says carefully, then begins tugging on my belt with her teeth. I try not to groan. With amazing skill she manages to undo my belt, pulling it free at long last. Then she contemplates my fly. Thank god for button ups.

‘‘Hmmm.’‘ Parker sighs, then lowers her mouth. Her chin bumps against the bulge in my pants and I clutch the bed sheets in my hands. Her mouth presses against the materiel, working the buttons free quickly with her tongue and teeth. Talk about tingly.

‘‘Ohhh.’‘ I moan when the last button is free, my erection straining out of the open fly, against my boxer shorts. Miss Parker eyes it, cat-like, then deliberately places her palm over the bulge, cupping me. I shudder. She leans in close, rubbing her hand gently back and forth, placing her lips on my ear.

‘‘Truth, dare, double dare, torture, kiss or promise?’‘ she whispers. I nod. All of the above just don’t stop.

‘‘Jarod?’‘ she whispers, and her hands stops.

‘‘Ah. Um. Double dare?’‘ I try. Anything to get her hand going again.  I resist the urge to use my own hand. Miss Parker sits up straight, keeping her hand on my lap, unmoving. My hips buck a little of their own accord.

‘‘Stop that. Alright. We have to...’‘ Miss Parker pauses, then grins. She leans over, whispering in my ear exactly what we have to do. My eyes widen.

****

This is the best idea I’ve had in a long time. Jarod looks down at me, uncertainty written all over his face. A little towel clutched around his waist. Beer in hand.

‘‘Are you getting in, or not?’‘ I ask. Jarod nods, dropping the towel. I grin. He blushes. I flick some bubbles at him, and he climbs in the bath with me. It’s too small, so I end up practically sitting on his lap, my legs around his waist. Jarod begins to stroke my calves.

‘‘Okay Parker, truth, dare, double dare, torture kiss or promise?’‘ he asks with a mischievous glint in his eye. He’s looking at where the bubbles are just covering my breasts. I smile, sipping my beer.

‘‘Kiss.’‘ I decide. Jarod considers for a moment.

‘‘There are all sorts of nasty creepy crawlies in this room...’‘ he murmurs. I glare.

‘‘Kiss me.’‘ He whispers finally, not joking any more. I stare at him speculatively, wondering how well he’d take it if I just gave him a peck on the cheek. But that’s not what he wants. Not what I want either.

I edge forward, tightening my legs around his waist. Jarod grins and pulls me up onto his lap, and I hurriedly put the beer down. I lower my mouth to his, nuzzling our lips together. Jarod groans, his hands on my waist, and pulls me closer, his still swollen cock rubbing against my thigh. I chuckle, pressing my mouth fully to his, my wet and soapy breasts sliding across his chest, his tongue invading my mouth. We wrestle for control, deepening the kiss, Jarod’s hands shifting to my ass and pulling me even tighter against him. Water splashes over the edge of the tub, and one hand snakes up to my chest, cupping and kneading my slippery breast. I clutch at his shoulders and break the kiss, gasping for air.

‘‘Oh god.’‘ I moan as Jarod drops his head to my neck, leaving a trail of wet hot kisses. He pulls my body away from him, tipping me back to lap at my breasts. He laves his tongue all around the underside, finally kissing his way up to my nipple and sucking gently. I moan deep in my throat.

‘‘Jarod?’‘ I gasp out.

‘‘Jarod!’‘ I groan, finally catching his attention. He stops, pulling back to look at me.

‘‘What?’‘ he mutters, his eyes dark with arousal. I dig my nails into his shoulders, staring down at him intently.

‘‘I pick dare.’‘ I sigh. Jarod stares incredulously at me. Then begins to laugh.

‘‘I dare you to get the hell out of this bath, dry, and in that bed as quickly as possible!’‘ he growls. I grin.

‘‘That’s a double dare!’‘ I protest. Jarod chuckles, and I stand up, shaking off as much water as I can manage. Jarod gazes up at my body in appreciation as I jump out. He follows, finding one of the musty towels and drying us both down quickly. I squeal when the towel slips, leaving his hand ‘accidentally’ between my legs. Jarod grins, then hauls me up in his arms, opens the door and-

‘‘Cute. Real cute.’‘

Jarod puts me down real fast, pulling me close to him, my chest pressed against his, concealing everything except my bare ass.

‘‘Dr Dolliag, I presume.’‘ Jarod says. I hit his arm, now is not the time for jokes. Jarod inches us both forward, snatching his shirt off the floor quickly and draping it around my shoulders. I thread my arms through the sleeves and button the front while Jarod rescues his boxer shorts. Dolliag smirks, admiring my legs. Jarod steps forward, in front of me, a vicious expression on his face. Dolliag raises his gun, smiling darkly.

‘‘Now Jarod, don’t try anything. Wouldn’t want your lady friend to get hurt.’‘ His eyes rake over my body, starkly outlined through the thin material of Jarod’s shirt. It’s beginning to stick to my body in damp patches. I raise my chin and glare.

‘‘I thought you would have still been at Veronica’s party, Charles.’‘ Jarod intones quietly. He shifts on his feet a bit, so he’s almost directly in front of me, covering me from sight.

‘‘Yes, well, I thought I’d come check up on my close friend, Jarod Clint the traitor. I bet that’s not even your real name!’‘ the good doctor huffs pompously. It occurs to me a few years ago that the man owned a dog that is smarter than him. The dog is dead and buried. Jarod remains in stony silence.

‘‘It seems you’re having quite a party here. Don’t let me interrupt.‘‘ Dolliag says, eying the beer bottles and discarded clothing around the place. He laughs to himself as he stands to leave, pausing in the doorway.

‘‘I’ll be back tomorrow night. Have fun now, because it’s the last time you ever will.’‘ He sneers, then slams the door shut. We both hear the heavy sound of a bolt sliding home, then a car speeding off. Jarod sits down on the bed heavily, his head in his hands. I sit next to him, and place my hand on his back. He shrugs it off angrily.

‘‘This is my fault. I have to find a way out of here.’‘ He says, jumping up and prowling around the room. He begins testing the bars on the window as I stare at him.

‘‘Jarod!’‘ I cry, furious. My body still burns. Jarod turns back to look at me, his eyes lingering where the damp shirt has stuck to my breasts.

‘‘You’d better get dressed.’‘ He says gruffly, and turns back to the window. Outraged, I snatch up my clothes, walking into the wet bathroom and slamming the door shut.

****

I’m going to kill him.

‘‘I’m sorry Miss Parker.’‘ Jarod says quietly. I keep my gaze locked on the blaring television. Jarod finally gives up trying to find a way out, coming to sit beside me. He brushes his hand across my shoulder. I slap it away. Darkness fell hours ago, it’s late now. I stomp into the bathroom, retrieving Jarod’s shirt from where I hung it up to dry. I leave the door open as I shed my dress and pull on his shirt, letting him know exactly what he’s missing. I stomp back, turn off the television and lay down on the bed, pulling the sheet over me, my back to Jarod. He sighs heavily.

‘‘Miss Parker-’‘

‘‘Goodnight, Jarod!’‘ I bit out. I hear another heavy sigh, then the light goes out. The bed dips, there is some rustling noises, and then all is silent. Despite my tension, I’m surprised how quickly I fall into sleep.

There’s a warm body under me. And a hand stroking my back. I shift, snuggling deeper into the nice smelling warmth. My leg tangles with somebody else’s, and I stroke my smooth calf against a hairy one. I sigh sleepily. Shift a bit more. Something hard digs into my hip, and I tighten my arm around whatever it is I’m clutching. Stretch.

‘‘Ohhh.’‘ Somebody moans. I blink, bright light invading. A warm hand settles on my bare ass, tugging me into place, both my legs tangled, the hard thing nestled between my thighs. I close my eyes again and sigh. The hand explores my ass, searching for something. Finds the strap of my thong over my hip. Moves back to cup my ass. Another hand joins it. I snuggle up into a hollow near my face, drifting off again.

The hands hold my ass, hips lift and the hard thing grinds in just the right spot.

‘‘Ahhh!’‘ I cry, completely awake and burning with pleasure. I open my eyes, my nose pressed against Jarod’s neck, my arms around his waist, and his chest rumbles with amusement underneath me. He grasps my butt again, grinding his erection into me. I moan, clutching at him.

‘‘No fair. You took advantage of a sleeping woman.’‘ I groan. He laughs again.

‘‘You cuddled up to me. Not my fault that I couldn’t resist all the delicious little movements you were making.’‘ Jarod says, his voice raspy with sleep. His hips surge again, and I begin to pant, scrabbling to keep a grip as he does it again. I bear down this time, tilting my hips, so his cock hits my clit on a perfect angle. We both moan. I arch my back, lifting up to face him, rubbing my breasts against his chest.

‘‘Would you look at us, dry humping like a couple of teenagers.’‘ I sigh, biting my lip as Jarod thrusts against me once more. His face is flushed, his eyes black pools. I drop my head to kiss his chest, then kiss his mouth. One hand leaves my butt to tangle in my hair, and I put one palm flat on the bed for leverage. We rock together some more, moaning into each others mouths. His satin boxers are sliding slickly against my wet panties, and I figure its time for some more friction. Of the internal kind.

‘‘Get naked.’‘ I demand, pulling away from the kiss. Jarod nods frantically, using one hand to tug off his boxers, then kicking them the rest of the way off.

‘‘Condom.’‘ Jarod croaks, gently setting me aside to rummage in the pockets of his pants, lying next to the bed. I groan at the delay, tugging off my damp panties. Jarod rolls back, pulling a few condoms out of his wallet, then throws the wallet aside. His hands are shaking. I straddle his hips, taking one of the condoms from his hands and tossing the other two aside, leaning to kiss him as I rip open the foil packet.

Jarod bites his lip in pleasured agony when I slide the condom onto his cock, rolling it down with my palms, careful not to let my nails anywhere near it. I lean forward and kiss him again, panting with anticipation, holding his erection in my hand and positioning myself over it. We both moan when I sink down, taking his full length inside of me. Jarod rests one hand on my hip, the other reaching up to undo the buttons of the shirt I’m wearing. He parts its folds and cups one breast, making me moan as he tugs on the nipple. I raise myself up on my knees, so barely an inch is left inside of me, then thrust down hard again. We both cry out at the array of sensations, and I repeat the motion, setting a rhythm for us. Jarod waits until I’ve found the angle I want before thrusting in unison with me.

‘‘Open your eyes.’‘ Jarod pants out, and I realise for the first time that they were closed. I look down at him and he grins, his hand on my hip moving between my legs, his thumb seeking out and finding my clit. He presses against it and I gasp. I rock our bodies together, feeling the tension in my belly building. I lean forward, bracing my elbows beside Jarod’s head and changing the angle. Both Jarod’s hands grasp my hips urging me to go faster. I kiss him, roughly, our noses bumping and our tongues entwining, the tips of my breasts brushing against his chest with every move. Jarod breaks the kiss, tossing his head back.

‘‘Oh god!’‘ he cries, and I can hear little keening noises. Coming from me, I realise. The pace and the pleasure become almost unbearable, and I cry out loudly, striving for release, gasping and moaning but not quite making it. Jarod sees my frantic expressions, grasping my head and bringing my ear to his lips.

‘‘Come.’‘ He instructs, pressing one hard thumb to my clit in one sudden motion, and that’s all I need, tightening over his body, waves of pleasure flowing over me. I call out, his name, I think, shouting and quivering, my body bucking. Jarod thrusts into me a few more times before his face contorts, his body arching off the bed.

I collapse onto his chest, breathing hard. Jarod strokes my hair with shaking fingers, and kisses my forehead, then shifts to whisper in my ear.

‘‘My turn. I pick kiss.’‘

****

‘‘Okay truth.’‘ I say. Miss Parker’s face darkens, and I pull her tight against me, casting her a questioning glance.

‘‘What are we going to do about Dolliag?’‘ she asks, obviously worried. I stroke her hair gently, smiling reassuringly.

‘‘We’re both strong, smart people-’‘

‘‘And modest too.’‘ She interrupts. I smile.

‘‘We’ll jump him.’‘ I say simply. Parker grins, pulling my head down for another long, passionate kiss. I moan softly, pushing the sheet away from her body and cupping one breast, squeezing it gently.

I had sex with Miss Parker. I have this purely masculine urge to go out to some seedy bar, shoot pool and brag.

‘‘I pick double dare.’‘ Miss Parker says, breaking the kiss. I raise my eyebrows.

‘‘Make out like horny teenagers?’‘ I ask hopefully. Parker chuckles, leaning in to kiss me, pulling the sheet over both of our heads as we slide down the mattress. I cover her body with mine, wrapping my arms around her waist, grinding my renewed erection against her. She giggles, winding her arms around my neck.

‘‘Miss Parker we came as quick as we could! Are you ok? Where’s Jar- Oh!’‘ Broots says in one garbled burst as he flings the door open. Miss Parker and I freeze under the sheet. We pull the sheet down just enough to peek out, still wrapped around each other. Broots and Sydney are standing in the open doorway. Sydney looks highly amused while Broots looks shocked, horrified and a little heartbroken. There is a long silence before Sydney begins to chuckle.

‘‘Doesn’t anybody fucking knock anymore!’‘ Miss Parker yells, mortified. Broots winces.

‘‘Um. We, ah, well...’‘ he begins, then fades into miserable silence. I roll off Miss Parker, trying to hide my own smile. She sits up, holding the sheet to her breasts while I dig around on the floor beside the bed closest to the wall.

‘‘Miss Parker, we thought we were rescuing you.’‘ Sydney intervenes. He casts a knowing look at me. ‘‘Obviously you didn’t need rescuing.’‘ He says, and tries to suppress another laugh. I pass Miss Parker my shirt, which she yanks on and does up quickly, and I pull on my boxer shorts under the sheet.

‘‘We’ll, uh, we’ll wait outside.’‘ Broots stammers, and all but shoves Sydney through the door in his haste to get out. Miss Parker hunts around until she finds her dress and underwear, pulling them on with a barely suppressed violence to her actions. I tug on my pants, doing them up quickly and trying to keep my thoughts off how they got undone.

Looks like I don’t need to brag after all.

‘‘Okay. Let them in.’‘ Parker huffs when she’s dressed, flopping down on the bed. I open the door for the two waiting men, who file past me. Broots doesn’t meet my eyes, while Sydney gives me an amused look. I shut the door and sit next to Miss Parker, who stares at the floor resentfully.  Broots looks everywhere but at the bed. I watch her, while Sydney watches me. Miss Parker clears her throat.

‘‘So how did you find us?’‘ she asks quietly. Talk about tension in the

air.

‘‘We discovered that Jarod would be at the same party you were, and came down to back you up.’‘ Sydney explains. Broots shifts on his feet nervously.

‘‘And you didn’t find either of us there.’‘ I conclude. Sydney nods.

‘‘Dear Mrs Dolliag remembered only that you two and her son had left quite suddenly. She was very helpful.’‘ Sydney says with distaste. Obviously good old Veronica had tried her charms on Sydney.

‘‘So we, uh, tracked down Dr Dolliag, who freaked out when we mentioned your names. We found out he kept a little ‘ love nest,’’‘ Broots said, choking on the words, ‘‘Upstate for his mistresses, we came up here and here you are.’‘

I nod. Miss Parker frowns.

‘‘Daddy know you’re here?’‘ she asks. Sydney shakes his head. She sighs in relief. Silence reigns. I pick up her hand and stroke her palm with my thumb. Parker seems uncomfortable with such a public display of affection. I don’t care.  She looks at me, looks at Sydney, opens her mouth then closes it again. I grin.

‘‘We had best get going soon if you want to get back to Blue Cove tonight. We’ll give you a lift into New Orleans Jarod.’‘ Sydney suggests. Miss Parker nods slowly. Sydney hesitates. ‘‘We can give you a few minutes if you’d like.’‘ He offers. I smile and nod. ‘‘We’ll wait in the car.’‘

Broots and Sydney leave the room, closing the door softly behind them.

‘‘Kiss.’‘ I say. Miss Parker smiles, leaning over to place a lingering kiss on my mouth.

‘‘Truth.’‘ She whispers against my lips. I look her in the eye.

‘‘Will you regret this?’‘ I ask, deadly serious. Miss Parker smiles.

‘‘No.’‘ she replies. She pauses, studying her hands, then raises her eyes to mine.

‘‘Jarod, I can’t... I mean, nothing can...’‘ she falls silent. I cup her chin gently, and then tug her to her feet.

‘‘I know Parker.’‘ I murmur. She smiles, then leans up and kisses me once more. I lead her to the door.

‘‘Dare.’‘ I decide. Miss Parker thinks for a moment as I pull open the door.

‘‘Alright, I dare you to give Broots at least one wedgie before we get to New Orleans.’‘

‘‘What the hell is a wedgie?’‘

‘‘Well, taking the person by surprise, you have to grab their underwear...‘‘

The door closes behind us.

Fini.

----

Mandy

Feedback please to Mandy at: kitty_amazon@yahoo.com