The Million Dollar Detective (13)
Bart emptied the bag into a drawer of his nightstand. Then they stood by the side of the bed, facing each other nervously. Before the opportunity had a chance to evaporate completely, Meredith gathered her courage, stepped up closer to Bart and said, "Would you please kiss me?" That broke the tension. Bart relaxed with an almost audible whoosh. They fell into each other's arms, passion and lust surging. Meredith pulled back first, breathing hard, and said, "Oh, Bart." After a few more deep breaths, she said, "Would you like to undress me now?" Bart inhaled voluminously and said, "Yes, I would like that very much." He unbuttoned her shirt easily and smoothly, but hesitated before touching her bikini top. For the space of three heartbeats, Meredith feared he might change his mind at the last, but perhaps he was only savoring the moment. When the fabric released her, they both gasped with pleasure. Meredith tugged at Bart's shirt. He pulled it over his head in one smooth motion. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly, skin to skin. It felt wonderful. As they dropped their last articles of clothing, Bart said, "Well, this is just like when you first met me." "Not precisely," she said. "Something seems different. If only I could put my finger on it." She proceeded to do just that, followed by more fingers. Bart said, "Oh, my." Meredith pressed her naked body against his naked body, pulled his head down so her mouth was next to his ear, and in a throaty whisper, said, "Take me." Bart swept her up in his powerful arms. Meredith reached down and pulled the bed covers back. Bart laid her gently down in the space she had made and laid himself down beside her. She put her hand on his chest, and said, "Bartholomew, my love, do you have a condom?" Bart smiled. "Why, yes, I have a drawer full, one hundred and eighty-seven dollars worth." "I believe some of that," Meredith said, "was sales tax." "Which kind would you like to start with?" "I think we should begin with the basic style. We can experiment with the more imaginative designs later." He quickly produced a small foil packet. Meredith took it from him and said, "Let me." "Meredith," Bart said, and swallowed hard, "I should confess something here." She stopped what she was doing and looked expectantly at him. He went on, "I'm not the swinging sophisticated partner you might be expecting. I do want you to enjoy this, though, and I will do my best, I promise." She gave him her sweet, saucy smile. "Can you follow instructions?" she asked. He smiled back and said, "If they're not too complicated, I can try." They weren't too complicated, consisting mostly of, "Keep going," "More," and "Yes, just like that." When she finally gasped, "Enough," he settled down beside her, and she pressed her body against his as if trying to make contact with every square millimeter. She rested her head on his chest. "Show off," she panted. "I was just trying to make you happy," Bart said, breathing deeply, but, she noted, not panting. Meredith felt this breathing inequity was quite unfair, but she wasn't sure in whose favor. "You did make me happy," she said. "Three times. And that," she paused to take in more air, "was showing off." "Well, okay," he said. "I'm going to indulge my habit of counting if you don't mind. Two things. No, make that three things. One, I suppose I was showing off a little. Two, I think we could do still better with more practice. And three, I really like to touch you. It's pure joy." Meredith felt a trifle disappointed by this itemization. She felt there should have been a fourth. She nearly pointed out the oversight to him, but since he didn't need to struggle for air as much, he beat her to it. "Well," he said, "I suppose there could be a number four. It is kind of related to the subject. Four," he squeezed her shoulder slightly and put his lips to her hair, "I love you very much." Meredith, feeling an actual thrill of delight run through her body, allowed two tears to leak from her eyes onto his chest. She hugged him fiercely. In a few moments, with her emotions and breathing under better control, she decided to do some counting of her own. "One," she said, "I'm not complaining about you showing off. I certainly enjoyed it. And if you would like to continue showing off sexually, I shan't object. Two, I expect your prediction of improvement with practice may prove quite correct. And that would be very nice indeed." Privately, she thought that she had just had one of the top two or three sexual experiences of her life. But she didn't intend to tell him that. He might get a swollen ego from the compliment yet simultaneously feel disappointed that she didn't rank it as unquestionably the best. "Three," she continued, "I enjoy it when you touch me, too. And I enjoy touching you. It is a joy." She tilted her head up toward his face. "Four, I do love you very much, also. Though I still think it is foolish to have fallen in love so quickly, it seems less foolish with every passing moment. Five--" "You thought of a fifth?" he said. "Five, I say," she said, "I don't think you bought enough condoms." He laughed for her, his chest bouncing her head up and down. "These are just to get started with," he said. "I do like it that you have assumed from the beginning that we would have sex more than once, that I mean more to you than a one night stand." They continued to talk quietly of this and that. Occasionally she nuzzled him and ran her fingers through his chest hair. Occasionally he buried his nose in her hair and inhaled the fragrance, or ran his fingertips over her soft skin. At some point, they drifted into sleep, still in each other's arms. When Meredith awoke the next morning, her conscious mind did not immediately remember where she was, or whose large, warm body was spooning with her. But her subconscious must have remembered because she felt no alarm. Rather, she felt safe, indeed safer and more protected than she could ever remember feeling. The bed was soft and warm. The man's arm around her, cradling her, with its weight resting on the mattress rather than on her body, was enormous and rather hairy. That triggered conscious memory. Bartholomew. She smiled to herself and hugged his massive arm against her. Bart's eyes snapped open, but he said nothing. Meredith felt so comfortable, so relaxed, and so tired, it was terribly hard to make herself move. With a great effort, as much mental as physical, she heaved herself over onto her back. Bart gazed steadily at her, smiling. With another great effort, Meredith turned herself another ninety degrees, so she now faced Bart. Bart finally spoke. He said, "Wow. You're really nice to wake up to." "I was just thinking a similar thought," she said. "You're so beautiful," he said. "Oh, please!" she objected. "First thing in the morning, my face is probably all puffy and my hair's a mess." Still she liked that he said it. He made a show of squinting at her features and hair. "Yep, you're right. Puffy. Messy. Yet, somehow, you're still gorgeous." "Oh, Bart, you're so full of bullshit," she said. Yet she smiled at him happily, loving his flattery, even when mixed with sarcasm. "Hey, I thought of another monkey instinct like you were talking about yesterday," Bart said. "Yes? What, pray tell?" "We like sparkly things." "Hmm. I think that does extend to monkeys, yes, but also to other creatures. Birds, for instance. Crows are known to pick up bright objects and take them to their nests. So we share this trait with other more distant species. What made you think of that?" she asked. "Your eyes," he replied. "Your smile. You sparkle, Meredith. I'll do my best to fend off the crows when they come to get you." "Bart," she began scoldingly, then reconsidered. "Sweetheart, I'm in bed with you naked." "Yes, I had noticed. Me likee." "Do shut up. You have already successfully seduced me. You don't have to do it again. Although, I must admit, I enjoy your flattery." Just then, Meredith felt something plop onto the bed near her feet. She turned, startled, and a small creature jumped up on the bulge of her hip. A yellow ball of fluffy fur supported by four tiny legs stood on her. A miniature dog face, sticking out from the fluff, tilted this way and that, regarding her in a friendly but curious way. The creature said, "Yip!" Meredith said to Bart, "Do you own a dog?" Despite the evidence standing on her and yipping at her, Bart replied, "Nope." "Is this a stray from Sheila's pack?" "Mrs. H. takes care of it. Henderson and I refuse to acknowledge any responsibility for the thing." The thing hopped from Meredith's hip onto Bart's stomach. Part of its back end wiggled. It stared Bart in the eye and said, "Yip!" again. Bart put his arms up, elbows on the mattress, and let his wrists go limp, imitating canine submissive posture. He said, "Okay, Cujo, ya got me. I'm at your mercy." "This tiny dog is named Cujo?" "No. I don't think so. I don't know his real name." [Author's note: Bart was lying. The dog's name was Dandy Lion.] "He weighs maybe five pounds, about one forty-eighth my weight, and he thinks he has me pinned. Delusions of grandeur." "Five pounds?" Meredith said. "About two point three kilos?" "Mmmm," Bart hummed as he calculated. "I get two point two seven. And the two seven repeats." "I don't think I need that many decimal places. What's two hundred forty pounds in kilograms?" She enjoyed making him do arithmetic. "That one I know because my scale gives it in both units. One oh nine." "Goodness, you are large." "Yeah. Is that twice your weight?" he said. "I decline to answer. A gentleman should not ask a lady's weight," she said, but knew he was within two kilos of being right. "Yip, yip!" the tiny yellow dog said. "What's that?" Bart said. "Timmy fell down the well again? Drat that boy!" Meredith granted him a laugh for that. "Indeed," she said. "They should keep Timmy on the leash. He's much more trouble than ever the dog is." Chapter Twenty-one "Bart," Meredith said, "how did the dog get here?" She feared the butler had let the dog into the room, and perhaps followed him in. "There are steps for him by the other side of the bed." "Yes, I wondered what they were for. But I meant, how did he get into the room? I'm not dressed to receive company." "Oh, don't worry, dear. The mutt has his own doggy door. A wee, small one. A person couldn't crawl through." "I don't remember seeing a doggy door." "Ah," he said. "It's in the wall, hidden by that dressing table." He seemed proud of this cleverness. The little dog said, "Yip!" again. Bart said, "All right, I'm awake! He thinks he's my alarm clock." He scooped the dog up in one hand and lowered him to the floor. Meredith could hear its tiny feet skittering across the room, followed by the "fwop-fwop" of the doggy door. Bart said, "I'm afraid I'm a little obsessive-compulsive about certain things, like working out in the morning. If I don't do my workout, I start to get jittery." She ran her fingers over his muscles. "I think it's a beneficial compulsion. I quite like the results. What kind of workout do you do?" "About forty-five minutes on the treadmill, and thirty minutes weight lifting and bag work. I vary my routines. I substitute calisthenics or swimming some days." "Could I borrow your treadmill? I try to work out regularly, too. One can't maintain a figure like mine without exercise and a disciplined diet." She took pride in her figure, and knew he found it appealing. He lifted up the covers and peered underneath. "You do have a spectacular body," he said. She laughed, "You're just making an excuse to peek at my breasts." "I do find them fascinating," he confessed. "I was breast-fed as an infant. I don't know if that really explains my fixation, but it feels instinctive somehow. Oh, is this another one of those monkey instincts?" "No, it's not," she said. "In point of fact, it's uniquely human. Of all the primates, we are the only one in which the females have permanently enlarged breasts. The others have enlarged breasts only when nursing. Other times, they are quite flat chested." "How sad for the chimpanzees," Bart said. "If it works that way for the other apes, why do human females have big, full, luscious breasts?" "Obviously, as a sexual attractant." "Obviously. Works pretty good, too. So when I show an interest in your lovely, round, wonderfully soft breasts, I'm being uniquely human?" "Unique to humans. Not unique amongst humans. Other men have noticed my breasts from time to time." She had in fact learned she must conceal her figure in most business settings if she wanted any work performed. If she showed cleavage, men's IQ's plummeted. In certain situations, this uniquely human instinct could become a safety hazard. Men walking into light poles on the street might be amusing, but men walking into things on a factory floor could result in serious injury. "All right," Bart said, "the male side of this instinct is we find female breasts attractive, fascinating, arousing, etc. What's the female side, then? You like to show them off? I suppose that's true. Fashionable dresses always seem to have plunging necklines, or some other means of accentuating your uniquely human shape." "Not every one," she corrected. "Some designs, such as backless dresses, or slit skirts try to draw attention elsewhere to help women who aren't so well-endowed." "Yeah, in my experience, that doesn't work," Bart said. "Well, you have your fixation," she said. "Other men may notice a woman's legs." She had noted Bart's attentions skewed toward the upper part of her body almost to the exclusion of the lowest parts. He did pay sufficient attention to the middle parts to satisfy her, though. Three times, in point of fact, she reminded herself with a private smile. "I did notice your legs, Meredith. I'm almost positive you have two of them." He added, "They are very lovely, very shapely. But back to the breasts-- " "Of course," she laughed. "No, regarding the instinct, I mean. Is part of the female instinct that you like for men to touch them, too?" "Ah, I believe that goes beyond flirting or courtship rituals. We regard touching as part of the sex act. Therefore, we really only want one man to touch them." Bart paused with his hand in mid-motion. He had been about to lift the covers for more peeking and perhaps caressing as well. He locked eyes with her and asked, "Meredith, am I the one?" She inhaled sharply, unsure if he were simply asking permission to fondle her, or if he were asking the deeper question, was he the one, as in Mr. Right. After a moment's hesitation, she decided not to ask herself the more serious question right now, and answer only the lighter question. In a cheerful voice, she said, "Why, of course, Bart." She lifted the covers for him, pulled her shoulders back, and took a deep breath, showing off for him shamelessly. "So long as you are gentle, you can touch them all you want." "No," he said, "I can't. I have to sleep sometimes." He began caressing and massaging her very gently indeed. Before long, they were both breathing deeply. "Bart," she whispered, "I thought you needed to go work out." He whispered back, "I was debating the possibility of adding a new exercise to my routine." He smiled tenderly and added, "Though I'm not sure whether I will burn very many calories, since it's your turn to be on top." She raised an eyebrow. "Are we taking turns? You don't mind the woman being on top?" Many men insisted on taking what they thought of as the dominant position. "I may even prefer it," he said. "Why is that?" He smiled oddly as though stifling a laugh. "Well, it leaves both my hands free." She did not stifle her laugh. "To do what I wonder? To indulge some uniquely human instinct, I suppose?" "Was there a 'yes' in there somewhere?" "Yes, absolutely. How about, pick something out of the drawer at random this time?" He reached blindly into the drawer and handed a carton to her. She examined it and said, "Ooh, good choice. This kind is textured, apparently for my pleasure. How thoughtful of them." She quickly scanned the instructions, just in case this design required any special handling. "Oh, my," she said. "The Spanish instructions are quite graphic." "You know Spanish?" "Yes. And French and Italian. I just started to learn German." "Impressive. You'll have to translate those instructions for me sometime," Bart said. He hurriedly added, "But not right now, please. I'd much rather, um, follow them than discuss them." She concurred. After the most enjoyable exercise session she could recall, she collapsed next to him, struggling to catch her breath. Between breaths, she said, "Four times . . . is definitely . . . showing off." Again he breathed deeply and evenly, and smiled an exceedingly satisfied smile. "Need I point out that you were the one in control this time?" He
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