Disclaimer: Don't own the voice... but I wish I could... WWFE does... The rest, Kat, intellectual idea... all mine.
Distribution: Flights.
Note: That man and his voice have been haunting me for months.

"Hey."
I want to giggle! Goddess kill me, I want to giggle. Not just a Man, this is so funny giggle. I'm talking a Oh my God, he's talking to me giggle. This is the kind of giggle suited to high school hallways, not to my office where anyone of my partners could walk in and asked for my dismissal on grounds of immaturity.
"Hey yourself."
"What's up with you?"
I want to give up everything and spend every waking moment of my life with you in order to hear your sexy voice.
"Working hard. You know, depositions and stuff."
"Sounds fun."
If you say it, anything can sound like a whole lot of fun. Goddess, get a hold of yourself woman. You're worse than a teenybopper checking out Kevin Richardson.
"It's OK. What about you?"
"Just playing around with the guys, pretending it's work."
I can so imagine you just rolling around on the floor with the guys. Sweaty bodies, half-dressed, wearing spandex and nylon... Damn, it is hot in here!!!
"Sure you're having a whole lot of fun."
"Be better if I were with you."
Cool, I'll quit my job right now! Never mind that I'm one of the few female trial attorneys in her twenties with a seven figure. I'd give it all up for... Give it all up? What the HELL kind of drugs am I on today? No, I'm not giving up shit! I am woman, hear me roar. You just stay wherever the hell you are and allow me a chance to stay sane.
"That's a nice thing to say."
"I'm an awfully nice guy."
Yes you are. An incredibly nice and sweet and caring and handsome guy. A guy who's totally not my type and yet more appealing that any of the guys who'd be quote-unquote right for me. No, my life's not complicated at all.
"I suppose so."
"What's wrong?"
What's wrong is that this was supposed to be a one night stand. I wasn't supposed to get attached. I was supposed to get my groove for one night with a strange guy in a strange town, not sit by the phone waiting for him to call me. I wasn't expecting to fall for a voice attached to a wonderfully sexy man... I wasn't expecting to be waxing poetic about the one guy who made me think about getting a house in the suburbs...
"Earth to you... Terry to Kat..."
"I'm here."
"So... what's wrong? You're not sounding right..."
"Give me a moment."
Putting Terry on hold, Kat quickly called her secretary and had her hold all of her calls and pretty much bar the door to her office.
"I'm back."
"Sounds big..."
"It might be. Remember that night we spent together?"
"I remember every moment we spent together."
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Being nice and sweet and stuff."
"Why?"
"Because, if I can pretend you're a bastard, walking away will be easy."
"Why do you want to walk away?"
"Because..."
... Being with you feels too good. I think back to that night when I walked into that club in Toronto after a arduous day in court battling Canadian lawyers to protect a client accused of drunk driving. Not only had I had to familiarize myself with their Canadian laws but I had to wear these dumb black robes with the white bib for the hearing. Hateful I tell you!
I was explaining to the bartender how to make me a Lynchburg lemonade when you appeared at my side and ordered the same drink. It was your voice that made me turn to you. Low, deep, quiet and bursting with confident, contrasting sharply with the ruckus surrounding us. Soon I was laughing with you over the drinks the bartender had botched and I was telling you way too much about myself.
"In two years?" you asked me, your eyes wide. "I didn't know people could go without for so long."
"Neither did I."
"You picky or is there nothing to pick?"
"Nothing to pick. Or so I thought," I'd whispered into your ear, my hand running over your thigh.
The rest of the night was spent with our lips close to each other's lips, telling stories and dreams of the nicest and most imaginative ways of having sex. At some point after midnight, I'd let you drag me right out of the club, your hands tight around my waist. Neither of us said a word until we were up to your hotel room where your thick hands, callused from your very physical job do a very quick job of undressing me.
"That what all American lawyers always wear under their suits?" you asked me, eyeing my lacy lingerie with indecent interest.
"I don't know. Never checked."
"So how did I get so lucky? Pun intended."
"Lord only knows."
God, how I drooled as I watched you take off your clothes. You were so not my type. Long hair? Not me. My vanity usually didn't allow me to sleep with a man with more luxurious hair than me and your hair was softer than a baby's. And your body... God, your body... So thick, so strong... Muscles galore! I loved that! And I didn't even know I did... But with you... You changed me. And in that moment, I wasn't not sure I wanted to go back to my preconceived ideas of what an attractive man should have looked like. You looked too perfect...
"... We're too wrong for each other," I finally mutter, looking out to my splendid view of New York City. "We're too different."
"Maybe you're right."
"Yeah..."
"Then maybe I should tell you about all the things I'd want to do to you over and over and over again."
"Terry..."
"I'd run my hands all over your body, touch you, caress you until you'd beg for mercy."
"Stop it," I whisper weakly.
"I'd stroke you until you..."
Stroke... He had to say that word... that one word that brought back the memory of his touch with a vengeance that just wouldn't quit.
"Stop it."
"Why Kat? Give me one good reason and I will."
"I already did give you a good reason."
"That whole we're wrong for each other bit? I'm not buying it."
"Not buying it? It's not as if I'm giving you a choice here Terry. I could easily get my numbers changed and get you out of my life."
"Kind of hard to do right now."
"What are you talking about?"
"This."
I turn to the door and stare at it dumbly. Then again, the part where the handsome leading man opens through the closed door, cell phone in hand only happens in the movies. The door to my office does open however and I'm disappointed to see my secretary standing there.
"Give me a second Terry. Yes Isabella?"
"I've got a couple of prospects here to see you and they're rather adamant about seeing you right now."
"Can it wait?"
"Seriously," Isabella says, coming into the office, "I think you'd fire me if I let you pass on this."
"All right. Give me two minutes."
"OK."
"Terry," I say, "I'm sorry but I have to go now. I have a meeting."
"Cool."
"Cool? For a guy who was insisting that we were right for each other, you seem a bit cold now."
"Let's just say that I have my ways."
Of making me scream like a banshee begging for a release? Yeah, I remember... I remember all too well.
"All right then. Good-bye Terry."
"Forever?"
I smile. I can't help it. He sounds like a little boy whose best friend is moving away.
"We might run into each other again. I don't know."
"I hope so. Well, I'll leave you to your meeting then."
God, I never thought, I never knew that the click of a line, the end of a call could be so loud or so emotional. The dial tone fills my head as I keep holding the phone up to my ear. I wish I wasn't so logical, so set to do what was right. I wish I'd never said those dumb words, we were wrong for each other...
What do I know?
What, because I'm a lawyer, I have to hook up with another lawyer, or worse, a stock broker, or a doctor, so we can have a brownstone in the city and a house in Connecticut, have boring dinner parties with boring friends, indulge in swinging to revive a sex life that was meant to suck from the get go, become members of a snobbish country club? I don't want that life! I just got that life because... Well because... I don't know why I got this life. Probably because it beat the hell out of anything else and because I get a fucking charge out of walking into a courtroom knowing I'm bound to win a case.
But what about life outside the courtroom, when I can use the laws and my knowledge of them to get my way? The side of life I've been hiding from... Well, I don't know about that life. I've never experienced it... except for those eight hours with Terry.
"Ms. Draven?" Isabella asks, coming into my office, "I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Adam Copeland and Jason Reso."
"I believe we're already acquainted with Ms. Draven," Jason says, leading the way into my office as I put down the phone and make my way around the desk to shake their hands.
"My partner is quite right," Adam adds with a wolfish smile.
"I think that'll be all," I tell Isabella, who's currently busy checking out both blondes' assets. Horny girls. "Gentlemen," I said, my voice wavering ever so slightly, "have a seat."
"Thank you. This is a very nice office," Jason remarks as he looks around.
I hide behind my desk, hoping my dark skin doesn't clue them in to my blushes. These guys... Damn, I'd been hoping I would be saved from the embarrassment of ever seeing them again. The morning after our... Well, the... Oh, let's call an orange an orange, the morning after my one night stand, Terry had woken me up with his impressive skill with his tongue and WOW! Seems I had been so vocal in my enjoyment of the man's natural talent that they'd rushed the room to make sure everyone and everything was all right. And so enthralled were they by our performances that they'd stayed to watch. It was only Terry's growl as he... Finished the job that had alerted me to their presence. I'd opened my eyes and seen them grinning down at me. I'd become incredibly aware of the fact that my legs were spread so wide my hips hurt, that my whole body was covered was for a thin sheen of sweat and that a few of my nails had quite ably shredded the sheets we'd been lying on.
"Don't you guys have something to do?" Terry had barked at them, covering my blushing body with a sheet.
"Actually no," the tall one had said, "and it's not every day that we get this kind of education in carnal pleasures."
"You boys want to be getting out right now."
"But Terry man... we're friends and friends share!"
"Get out Jason before you and Adam get to share an ass kicking!"
Chuckling, Adam and Jason had approached the bed, picked up my hands and laid kisses on my still sweaty palms before Terry's ferocious growl had them running out of the room.
"Thank you."
"Must get paid quite a bundle to work in this place."
"I get by."
Jason tilts his head to the side as he observes me very carefully.
"You do more than get by. I'd say you own a very nice studio/apartment/loft in the city, if not a brownstone, and you're thinking of buying a house in Connecticut for the weekends."
"And you're taking over for the Psychic Network because?"
"A sense of humor, that's good. Terry need a woman with a sense of humor."
"Terry needs? Oh, you're here to convince me to give him a shot."
"More than just give him a shot. Jason?"
"Here."
Jason hands me a file and I open it. Being a lawyer helps maintaining a straight face while I read this. These boys are smart, and determined. They actually prepared a list of reasons why I should give Terry a chance. But I need revenge on them for being voyeurs.
"And?" I ask, dropping the file on my desk. "Is this stuff supposed to matter?"
"Sure! I mean, Terry's a great guy and you've been on his mind a lot and I think you need to give it a shot."
"Really now? Why?"
The twin looks of shock spur me on even more.
"I mean, Terry's a terrific lay, I'll give you that much. Man should even give classes... Though my take on that might be skewed since he was my first in such a long time.... However, the man's got a that one-night-stand quality to him, no more, no less."
"I can't believe you just said that! That's so mean," Jason exclaims. "Terry deserves so much more."
"Yes he does. Trust me, your friend's more than capable of getting a woman by himself without your help. The two of you are condescending sons of bitches and I'd be weary of any woman who agreed to go out with Terry thanks to your scare tactics. Now both of you, out of my office before I decide your life's the most inconsequential thing ever invented."
"B-b-b-but..."
"Isabella," I snap, pressing the intercom button. "Have security escort Mr. Copeland and Mr. Reso out of my office."
"Yes Ma'am."
"That's not necessary," Adam growls as he gets up.
"Oh but it is."
Calmly sitting behind my desk, I wait until two security guards arrive and escort Adam and Jason out. Isabella quickly shuts the door behind them and sits in the chair Jason was forced to vacate a few minutes before.
"You know I don't question you boss, but what the hell was that all about?"
"Let's just that these boys thought they were stepping into the little kitten's plush home... I had to correct their assumptions."
"Idiots," Isabella chuckles, shaking her head as she gets up. "Don't they know there's a reason why they call you the Big Bad Kat?"
"Guess not. Bella, cancel my appointments this afternoon and find out where Terry Gelin is staying."
"And who's Terry Gelin?"
"I'll tell you when there's something worth mentioning."

Terry was lying on his back, arms crossed behind his head as he told himself he was an idiot. He should have known letting Adam and Jason go over there was the dumbest thing ever. Kat was tough, he'd felt that from her when they're met. She wouldn't like him setting them after her. And from what they'd told him, she had let her resentment at their heavy handed tactics show.
"We were escorted out of the building man. By security. Us!" Adam stressed the last word by thumping his chest. "The eight-time WWF Tag champions!"
"You ticked her off," Terry reasoned. "Did I not tell you not to go over there?"
"But Ter man, she was mean."
Terry had walked out of their room and made his way to his. He's been staring at the ceiling since. Something had happened with him with Kat. He was a good lay, he knew that much. He enjoyed sex. A lot! Probably why he was so good at it. Because to him, it was always more than just sex. It was getting his partner to get off too, and hard. But usually, after a night, after exploring most of the options, he got bored. But with Kat... He sighed. Just thinking about her made him think of ten thousand new ways of making love to her. Making love... Terry moaned. That's what that night with Kat had been all about. Love. And now, his best friends had fucked that up. Damn them... but their intentions had been good...

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!!!

"Give me a minute."
He rolled out of bed and padded to the door, tugging on a shirt over his jeans. He was pushing his long wet hair off his face just as he opened the door.
"I actually expected one of the blondes to answer," Kat said sharply, trying not to stare at the broad expanse of his bare chest. "Since they're so protective of you and all."
I watch him stare at me kind of dumbly and I smile. I gotta remember to get Isabella a raise for getting me his hotel room number this fast. Girl is a gem! And Terry... Wearing jeans that must be soft from being worn so often. They probably started off blue and stiff and now they look white with a bluish tinge and look very worn. But here's the kicker... Top buttons are undone and I can see that indentation between his legs and his stomach that lead to... Well hell, you know where it leads. And that shirt of his... Looks like raw silk and wet in certain patches... Like he just showered and threw it on.
Relax Kat! You're just here to talk not jump his bones.
Yeah right!
"What are you going here?"
"I'm here to take your head off about sending your little buddies to my office to do your dirty work."
"They thought it would be a good idea. I take it they were wrong?"
"I don't like being forced into a corner," I tell him, sliding past him into his room.
I'm pleasantly surprised. It's not a complete mess. Sure, there's a trail of clothes to the bathroom and I can barely see the coffee table for all the crap that's on it, but it could be worse, must worse. I turn to the bed... It looks very messy. Either he had a restless night (I don't mind that idea so much) or he had sex (I mind that idea very much.)
"I'm sorry. Didn't know they were going to be so heavy handed."
"It's OK," I whisper as I watch him rush to the couch I'm headed for to throw scattered clothes off it.
"So, huh... To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
"You're too damn lucky for your own good."
He sits on the edge of the coffee table and leans forward, elbows on knees. He smells fresh and clean and incredibly manly. I push wet tendrils of hair off his face and focus on his eyes.
"What does this mean?"
"I guess it means that I took some time off work. Damn it, I like you Terry. You're a trip in bed and I need some damn good sex."
"So sex is all I'm good for?"
"I'm not saying that. What I am saying is that I'm willing to take the time to find out what else you're good for."
He smiles then. Ah damn... doesn't he know that the moment I knocked on that door, I was his? The smile wasn't necessary but it is certainly is pleasant. I lean forward and rest my forearms on top of his massive shoulders. I press my forehead against his and smile into his eyes.
"I'm going to have to start being a good boy and show you how good I can be for you, right?"
"Don't you dare! I've been good so long I've forgotten how to be bad. I need you to show me how."
Suddenly, his hands are on my knees, moving up and down my skin, warming the goose flesh that raised... I have no clue when or why. But his touch... That's won me over the very first time and that's what's going to keep me with him... There's something about the way he touches me... Softly and deeply at the same time. It feels like a kiss on my skin and as if the heat emanating from his hands reach straight into my muscles to warm him from the inside out.
I'm aware of how far up my thighs he's pushed up my skirt and I don't know if I care... Something about the intensity in his eyes... Reminds me of a musician I'd seen in a club during my college years. The way the man had strummed his guitar, prying the sweetest melodies from it, he'd gone into a world totally separate from the surrounding audience, a world of his making where him and his instrument had made magic.
And that's how I feel right now, with Terry's hands on me, like an instrument of pleasure and he's the artist prying the magic from me and I am so willing to let him play me, write me, paint me, create me, make me. I am the canvas and the paint to his Michaelangelo, to his Da Vinci, and his touch, is the master's stroke and between you and me... I know for a fact that I'm going to LOVE getting stroked.

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