 | ShatterStorm Productions
|
| ShatterStorm Productions
|
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine yada yada
Author’s Notes: Thank you to u2pumpkin for the summary and advice.
The Precious Trilogy – Part Two
precious
adj.
1. Of high cost or worth; valuable.
2. Highly esteemed; cherished.
3. Dear; beloved.
Her eyes widen in amazement when she sees him stride in, a stepladder propped by his side.
“What the sweet hell is this, are you making fun of me, Joshua?” Her exasperation is pointless; she doubts that he has heard a word. He is deep in concentration attempting to suspend a garland over her doorframe. She can hear his wheezing efforts from the other side of the room.
“Urm…” He huffs, stretching precariously. ”I could do with some help here….”
“Oh no.” She quips, trying her hardest not to laugh at his struggles. “You’re managing just fine.” CJ shifts her attention to the report that has lain untouched on her desk for days. She doesn’t bother to look up. “What are you doing anyway?”
“Getting ready.”
“For?”
“Tomorrow.” The flat tone bothers him more than it should; her lack of interest was beginning to dampen his enthusiasm. He decides it would be fun to rattle her mood. “The big day of Lurrrve.” Josh gleams, beaming triumphantly when CJ squirms in her seat.
The gaudy pink monstrosity looks ridiculous against the wood. ‘Like a worm in drag’, CJ muses when she finally looks up from her paper. Still, it would be far too mean to tell Josh that, despite her apathy. He looks so pleased with his effort. When he steps off the ladder, he is grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
“Bah humbug.” She growls. Valentines Day - the worst celebration next to New Years Eve. As far as she was concerned, it was nothing but anticlimactic anticipation and empty promises, and she would do her best to deny existence of it.
“Wrong holiday, CJ.” He takes one last shot at improving her mood. “Don’t you think it looks kinda....” He struggles to find the word.” …Erm….perky?” His eventual choice baffles him. ‘
“Perky, huh?” CJ barks, smothering a laugh with her hand. He was trying so hard for her. “I don’t need perky. I am Queen Perky of Perky Town.” Josh is dumbfounded by her sincerity.
“Listen Mister, if you so much as fart hearts anywhere near here tomorrow, I’m gonna kick you back to last Thursday!” He believes her. He would remove the banner, but not before registering his displeasure.
A smirk appears on her face as he leaps into the air tearing the trail of cerise shapes off the door like a sulking child. Some separate from the others - CJ cannot help but daydream as she watches the stranded hearts dance to the floor like rose-kissed snow, but the theatrics of Josh violently stomping the confetti into the carpet snaps her back. Her smile spreads as he picks up the stepladder and drags the unharmed hearts behind him and out of the door like the tail of a scolded puppy.
“Scrooge!” He calls back, half-laughing.
“Ham!” She hoots, flushed with joy.
Carefully, she picks a heart from the carpet and traces its outline with her index finger. Its fragile, crumpled appearance is not lost on her. Yet despite the frustration that irks her so, she does not discard it. Instead, she gently places the smooth foil on her lips, returns to her desk and removes a card from a drawer. Scrawling in it quickly before she loses her nerve, CJ lays the heart on top of her words. ‘No, too much.’ She says to herself, propping it against Gail’s glass home instead. ‘You’re horny, not needy’.
She slips the card carefully into its casing. Her stomach flips as the sensation of her tongue gliding against the sweet gum on the envelope stirs up tangible images of her desire again. She moans quietly as Abbey’s nipple buzzes against the tip of her tongue….
…A yelp screeches from her as she feels the blood of her indiscretion bloom close to her lips. There is no evidence on the paper but the painful consequence of her longing makes her hesitate. What can the card gain her? Before she dares answer, CJ is running in the hallway. She is lost in lust again, and this time, ignoring the warnings of the salty tang prickling in her mouth.
*******
The brisk sound of her fist against the door is identical to the pace of her heartbeat. When she looks down to check her appearance she realises her mistake. In her haste, she has forgotten her clipboard. What would she use for cover now? It was not as if she could just waltz in and present Abbey with the card. She couldn’t, could she? Her audacity astounded her. She might as well walk in with a placard saying, Good evening Mr President, I am desperate to fuck your wife. As she slides the envelope into her jacket pocket, part of it catches her left nipple sending a tingle of excitement through her every sinew.
He pauses for a moment, surprised by her slight absence of composure. “Hello Miss Cregg.”
“Hey Curtis.” She answers a little too brightly. “I trust Mrs Bartlet is in residence today?”
“Yes Ma’am. Is she expecting you?”
His question ruins the script that hummed incessantly in her head. “Well… no, but it will only take a minute.”
“Of course. Come on thr…” CJ ponders the sudden seizure of speech as he quickly turns his head away. “Pardon me Ma’am, but Miss Cregg is here and she’s bleeding.”
The doctor is at the door before CJ has a chance to panic.
*********
“Yeaouch!”
“Quite.” For a second she loses herself, pondering CJ’s state of mind as the pads of her fingertips skim her mouth with a gentle skill. “It’s an impressive cut I must say. Might I ask how it happened?” She removes her hands to let CJ answer.
“Envelope.” It sounds as if she is chewing wool. Abbey nudges her jaw and looks into her mouth again.
He calls out from behind his newspaper.
“Accidents within the home account for a staggering percentage of fatalities and serious injuries, CJ. You are safer swimming with a Great White, than you are vacuuming.”
“She’s not at home, Jed.” Abbey sighs, not deviating from her task yet at same time finding her herself rather drawn to the idea of her patient operating a vacuum cleaner. CJ cherishes every word as they ooze down her throat like warm caramel.
“Oh? According to you, she spends more time here than I do.”
CJ jumps in her seat.
“Sorry. Did I catch you?” CJ shakes her head. Abbey interprets this as an answer but for CJ it is more of an excuse to shake away the visions of their late night meeting being the hot topic at Bartlet breakfast table. What else has she told him?
“OK, we’re done.” As she walks over to the sink, she catches a glimpse of her husband. He is folding the finished newspaper on the table as usual. Soon, she obverses, he will rise awkwardly from his chair, walk towards her and complain about something. Most likely the weather, his health or both.
CJ straightens herself up in her chair gingerly trailing her tongue over her teeth. She can still taste the blood. She watches Abbey wash her hands meticulously and drag the excess water through her hair. When the droplets catch the light, it looks as if her tresses are shimmering with diamonds. She would have observed her for longer if it the President had not entered the room. He gestures to CJ not to stand, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Damn frost. It’s screwing with my joints again.”
Abbey privately bemoans his unoriginality. “Jed, it is February.” She mutes his continuing tirade and returns her attention to her charge.
“You shouldn’t have any trouble now. Keep it clean, so no food for at least an hour. Suck ice cubes if the discomfort is bothersome. Paper cuts can be nasty beasts…”
CJ is about to nod her appreciation when she feels Abbey, in full view of The President, lean tantalising close to her ear. She does not speak immediately. Instead, Abbey savours the effect of her recklessness by discreetly feeling the racing pulse in CJ’s neck. “Especially,” she continues finally, purring the words. “When you injure such a delicate part of your body.” Abbey steps back calmly leaving no sign of the thrill racing inside her. As she walks over to her husband, she makes a mental note to give CJ some lessons on such deportment; she can see her nipples poking through her jacket.
Still his voice boomed. He was oblivious to everything, as she knew he would be.
“You do realise, in Australasia right now it is the height of summer and already tomorrow.”
Abbey rolls her eyes. “Jed, please….CJ already has a sore mouth. She doesn’t need earache to compliment it.” Her grin lifts his spirits.
“Of course.” He smiles apologetically. “Forgive me. I’m afraid the cooler seasons have a tendency to smear my disposition.”
“No problem sir.” CJ stands and smiles uneasily, unsure of what else to say. “Well… I should be going…” She addresses Abbey with minimal eye contact. “Mrs Bartlet, thank you so much for your help…” She fills the awkward silence by bowing her head to him...”Good evening Mr President.”
She spins on her heels when he calls her back from the hallway. The unexpected zeal in his voice almost makes her giggle.
“Yes sir?”
“Did Abigail happen to speak to you about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” She answers slowly. Her stomach lurches as she remembers the card still in her jacket pocket. “No… no she didn’t.”
“We are having a small Valentines function in the evening for some friends.” CJ winces at the inevitability of the rest of his sentence. “We would be honoured if you could join us.”
“Oh …well… I… thank you but…” CJ glances in Abbey’s direction. She is clearly enjoying herself… “But… won’t it look a little strange...Mr President, you know I am habitually unattached.”
He chuckles quietly. “Don’t worry. Abbey is strictly prohibited from finding you a date…” His eyebrows arch mischievously. “Of course, if you should find one of your own in the meantime…”
“Yes…. Well…. I…”
His shoulders sag dejectedly. “I am losing my touch, Abigail. You can persuade her, no doubt.”
“With pleasure.” She coos. “CJ, it will be wonderful. I promise.”
“I hope your wife keeps her promises, sir.” The swallow scorches her throat. It has happened; she is trapped in Abbey’s game. CJ raises her head skyward grateful to the ringing telephone that takes him to another room.
“What the hell was that?” Abbey hisses when he is gone. She pushes the door ajar with her back, teeth clenched and nostrils flaring. “What on earth were you doing, questioning my loyalty? Thank the Lord it will have gone over his head!”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I forgot myself.” CJ tentatively meets Abbey’s thunderous glare. Still, the desperation pours from her. “I haven’t seen you since ….” I thought perhaps I misunderstood ….”
Abbey steps closer to her. To CJ, the inches between them suddenly feel like miles. Abbey huffs in disbelief, pointing to the chair where CJ sat minutes earlier.
"Are you kidding me? That wasn’t algebra I whispered in your ear, sweetheart!”
“I know…” CJ snaps herself away from her sumptuous eyes; their glittering anger pierced her heart. “I should go.”
CJ was trapped before her first step touched the ground…
She would have slid down the wall if not was for Abbey’s knee resting delicately on her crotch. She is pinned, her arms above her head frozen in a glorious surrender against the wall. Abbey giggles, briefly arching her neck as she feels CJ’s excitement tremble through her kneecap. Her breath catches slightly when she thinks of her husband not twenty feet away separated only by bricks and profession. ‘What is he catches them? What if…’ Slowly she takes CJ’s right hand and entwines her fingers into her own. The soft slender elegance against her aged sanded palm almost sends her over the edge. Instinct is driving her now, leaning her harder against the tall woman’s waist, her torso, her legs. She moans quietly when she feels CJ’s muscles tense against the curve of her breasts.
“So,” Abbey breathes, slowly removing the envelope from CJ’s jacket. She releases her knee from its exquisite position, and presses one corner of the envelope against her lips. Her eyes flash as she realises the cause of CJ’s misfortune. “Meet you at eight?”
******
CJ tussles with her restlessness, growling in frustration at her inability to sleep. She is not surprised given the events of the day but something, something small in the pit of her gut is wrenching inside her. She tosses the sheets off the bed; the white linen sparks a lightening like vision against the stifling darkness, quickly cooling the sweat that pools on her breasts like pearls. She looks at the glaring neon of her bedside clock. 11:58 PM. Suddenly, the pain in her stomach is stronger, a dull kick like thud. It’s Abbey. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Abbey. Whom at this time she notes, will likely be giving the President the ride of his life.
Sighing quietly but without a tinge of jealously, CJ slowly trails her forefinger along the inside of her inner thigh quickly losing herself in thoughts of her precious tomorrow.
End of Part Two………..
