Fly With Fire (30 page)

“Friendly.” Mo looked at Zack
and saw a smidgeon of irritation on his face.

“Ex’s cousin.” He seemed to
be somewhere else for a moment. Mo walked in silence. Suddenly he put his arm
around her. “Sorry.”

“It hasn’t been that long.”
She liked his arm around her, casual and familiar. She raised her arm across
his back. “So what are you feeding me? Pizza? Oh, I know, hotdogs. You make a
good sandwich but who wants to cook.” She laughed looking up at him. He leaned
in for a quick kiss.

The air around Mo’s face was
suddenly warmer.  Zack felt the same warmth and squeezed her against him.
“I know making coffee is cooking to you, but making a sandwich is not
technically cooking. This, senorita, is food city. There’s a cab now.”

“Is it rude to stare at
people out in public?” Mo sipped a gin and tonic. Zack held an Amstel light.

“Not if you’re not too
obvious. Twisting in your seat is obvious.” Zack took an amused sip. Mo turned
and postured demureness but it didn’t last long.

“Look at her. How’d she get
her hair that big? She looks kind of like your ah…friend.” Mo raised her
eyebrows and sucked on the little straw. “That was good, Zack. I thought the
wait would be longer but they move fast.” They sat in The Hot Woc on the near
North side. The walls on the front and side were doors that could be opened
onto the street in nice weather. Throngs of people strolled and walked their
dogs. This was the Gold Coast. Most people were casually dressed in their
designer slacks and blouses. A limo was parked along the street. The beggar on
the corner wore a tie.

“I thought maybe you’d like a
change from salad. And pizza.” Zack downed the last of the beer and threw a tip
on the table. “Wanna walk, or have you had enough?”

“Good thing I wore my walking
shoes yesterday. They’re what to wear if you’re caught in the middle of a robbery.
Let’s walk. I want to see stuff. Oh, look at that!” Mo pointed to a magnificent
red sequined dress in a Valentino boutique. “Sorry, just looking.” She put her
arm in Zack’s. He still carried the books with the other hand. “I haven’t eaten
Chinese in a long time.

“Oh, well you should have
said…”

“No, no, it was great.” She
squeezed his arm. “Just stuck in a food rut, I think.”

“I like cooking myself, just
don’t have time to really develop it. I took lessons once. Chicago Chef’s
Institute had lessons for non-professionals as they called it. Lot a fun, but I
missed a lot of classes because of work.” Zack steered Mo onto Oak Street
heading for the lake.  It was twilight but the nice weather had people out
in droves. They walked as Mo checked out the windows of expensive boutiques.
They meandered for an hour with Mo stopping to admire this or that. “We can
come when the stores are open if you want.”

“No. I blew my shopping
budget on earrings I couldn’t live without.” She gave her head a little shake;
she had put them on in the cab before dinner. “I’m suddenly feeling tired.
Maybe the gin. Do you mind? Can we get a cab?”

“No problem.” He walked out
into the street and waved down a Yellow. “1500 South Indiana,” he said as Mo
slid in. He got in and noticed she hadn’t moved all the way over. She put her
head against his shoulder and watched the city on the trip down the Drive. She
toyed with a button on his shirt so he put an arm around her. Mo felt his heart
beating and the rise of his chest as he breathed. Refuge. Being close to
someone should be a refuge. Not pain, toil, work, conflict. Refuge. If people
couldn’t find refuge in each other, where could they find it? What was the
point of love if it wasn’t refuge from all the hardship in life? She snuggled against
him. It was an odd sensation for her. He didn’t seem to mind and his hand
stoked her hair lightly as they rode in silence. Life was hard. Had been hard.
She felt so safe and comfortable. Why couldn’t people always feel this way?
Maybe they wanted too much of things that didn’t matter. Maybe she should just
stop thinking. She promised herself that was exactly what she would do.

Up in Zack’s condo Mo
showered and put on a pair of his boxer shorts and one of his tee-shirts. “I’ll
take you to get some clothes if you want,” he had offered. “And there’s a
Target down Roosevelt.”

“Maybe tomorrow. After the
Art Institute. But you’ve already seen it. You don’t have to go again.” She
found she had an aversion to going to Greendale at present.

“No, I enjoyed it. You think
a cop wouldn’t enjoy art? Tomorrow’s free day so plan on being up early.”

“What are you going to do
arrest me?” She put a finger on his straight nose.

He took her wrists.
“Something like that. I’m going to jump in the shower.” He gave her a friendly
peck on the forehead. She’d said she was tired. It had been a long day. A great
day like he hadn’t had in a long time. He didn’t want to push. Unless she…God
she was so cute in his boxers. He stood under the water and thought about her.
His mind vacillated between desire and an odd guilt. He didn’t want to hurt
her. He didn’t want to hurt. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind
of everything but the here and now. But his thoughts veered toward harsh
reality. Different worlds. They lived in entirely different worlds. He… Her
hands came around his waist and slid up his soapy stomach to his chest. His
mind went numb but his body came alive.

“Nice ass, Detective.” She
ran her hands down his sides and smoothed them over the ass in question. He
turned to her wet, soapy and half hard already. One slick of her hand took care
of the other half. He gazed at her dark eyes. Her damp hair had been twisted up
into a large knot on the back of her head. Loose strands fell on her shoulders
and breasts. Droplets of water beaded on her face. His head shot back with a
moan as she ran her hand on him. She put her forehead on his chest to watch her
hand. He gripped her shoulders. “Wait.”

“What for?” She squeezed. She
was fascinated at his reaction. She experimented with touch. What happens…Oh!
How about…his gasps were sure answers. He put his arms around her. He wanted to
kiss her. Touch her. “No.” She cupped him. He lurched with full force. Both
hands on him now she stroked and tickled. She giggled at his swaying, bouncing
member and had an urge to flick it and watch it spring. Spring it did and he
was insane. He grabbed hard. He held her with one powerful arm and slid a hand
over her mound and deeper. She brought a knee up to his hip. He lifted her and
brought her down on him slowly intruding against the initial resistance. Her
back was against the shower wall. The water flowed and splashed as he lifted
her again. His face was in her chest. He kissed the soft curves. Warm water
splashed on her face and shoulder. Mo reached around him and squeezed the buns
she had praised biting his shoulder as he drew her almost off then onto him
again bracing her with powerful arms.

“Mo.” He thrust pulling her
down again and again on him, craving the depth of her. Then he held her at the
very tip of fulfillment enjoying the panicked plea of her whimpers. She
struggled to have all of him. She moved on him begging with her body. He teased
by holding her aloft until she gave a frustrated little scream and bucked hard against
him. It sent them almost tumbling over. He held her against the shower wall and
stuck his tongue into the miniature waterfall streaming from her nipple. Then
he circled the perfect hardness of it causing her to flail at him with
something near to crazed desperation.

“Just kidding,” he managed
huskily. He sank into her. She tried to grab the shower door frame to get a
better purchase but her hands slipped. They landed on his shoulders and gripped
mindlessly. Her hair came loose like a whip in his face as she lost control.
Zack let her ride out her storm. He held her safe and planted his feet as best
her could. Somehow he managed to control his body’s need to crest and focused
on her wild ride. He gave her all the head she needed as she screamed into his
shoulder and swam against him as if fighting a rip tide. “Take all you want,
Baby.” He whispered into her ear. Her body shuddered with the taking. His heart
shuddered because she was taking so much more than she knew.

He patted her with the towel
while she kissed droplets off the hairs on his chest. She shivered not from
cold but from having thrown off so much heat. She seemed a little tipsy yet it
had been a while since she had the gin. Must be really tired, Zack thought.
“Let’s chill on the sofa, watch some TV. Okay?” He thought it would help her
sleep.

Mo pressed her face in his
chest. “Yes, Officer Burnham.” She giggled. She felt like a girl. She had never
been permitted to be just a girl. She had always worked. School. Practice.
Perform. She had never just played and now she felt like she could play. And
she liked her playmate more than she cared to admit. She slipped the boxers and
T-shirt back on with a little help from her friend. He wrapped the towel around
her head so ineffectually it unraveled immediately. She snapped it at him, Zack
dodging with a laugh, and wrapped it herself.

              
He looked at her girlish face. Zack felt his heart caught on an anvil. He
counted the years between them; six, almost seven. Not so bad, he rationalized.
He threw on some sweats and a T-shirt. Not bad for what? This was a dream and
wakeup call was a few days away. Zip it up Zack. Take it for what it is. Don’t
screw up what time you have.

“We don’t have to watch this.
Turn on a ballgame. I know you don’t want to watch this.” Mo curled up next to
Zack who stroked her damp hair. He was watching her and couldn’t care less
about what was on TV. He studied the thin line of her brow and the sharp sickle
of her cheekbone. He gazed at the slight curve of her nose. The stung little
puffs of her lips had always caused his heart to lurch. Her small chin was just
a little pointed. His eyes followed the line of her long neck.

“I love Jane Austen.” He
assured her. Well I can tolerate it. She nestled closer and he thought he could
tolerate anything.

“She grabbed the remote and
they struggled for it. She won by standing on the sofa and holding it high
while he tried to pull her down by the boxers. She laughed and clicked. “Look! Look!
Chicago White Sox at Toronto Blue Jays! She plopped down and handed him the
remote. “I dare ya.”

“Game’s almost over. Watch
what you want.” He didn’t want to take his eyes off her anyway.

No one had made her feel so
free. It was as if a spigot had been turned on and her sexuality had poured
forth unstoppably. He had opened something in her, yet she didn’t understand
how she had she had been able to let herself go with him when gnawing little
fears kept nipping at the edges of her delight in him. She wanted to give and
give and take and take. But could she let go when the time came? They would go
back to their own worlds. When she thought about it she felt as if she’d never
fly free again. Suddenly the Dashwood girls are arguing in their subtle fashion.
Zack hid the remote on the other side of him alongside the cushion.

She started to protest when
he put his arms around her and caressed her breasts through the T-shirt while
Kate Winslet’s Marianne runs through the field with her little sister, slipping
and falling. Mo makes for the remote but he stops her with a chuckle. His hand
gently touches the band of the boxers while Willoughby’s horse rears in fright.
He slides his fingers under the waistband while the handsome horseman lifts
Marianne into his arms. Mo slides her hand onto his and presses it firmly. She
watches Mrs. Dashwood fret as a dripping Willoughby carries Marianne to the
sofa. Mo feels his finger on the spot that makes her warm and wet. Zack plays
there while lovely Marianne flubs ‘The Tempest’ and Willoughby takes up the
quote and presents her with the sonnets. Eleanor Dashwood has sage advice, but
Mo isn’t listening because she’s on Zack’s lap and he’s got other things
besides being sensible in mind. She forgets the movie and the ballgame and is
caught up in the sensations he’s causing. Her breath comes in quick puffs as he
rewards her responses with devilish manipulations that have her murmuring
encouragement. He’s learned quickly what makes her pant and thrash and he’s
adding his own embellishments with great concentration. Marianne, unwatched
now, races headlong toward heartbreak.

She stands up breathing hard
so he can pull the boxers off and she turns and climbs on to his lap. Had he
really turned this down? What had he been thinking? He momentarily forgot the
reason. Mo takes him in hand and since he’s bursting against his boxers, frees
him. She looks at him feverishly. His eyes burn with a fever of their own. She
pushes her full lips down on his and loses all sensibility. She slides off of
him and drags his shorts off. She has the look of a hungry animal. In his eyes
she turns from some luminescent otherworldly being into a hauntingly visceral
creature. Her hunger feeds his as they look into each other’s delirious eyes.
He pulls the T-shirt up and off and wants her on his lap again. His mouth
craves hers. He craves all of her.

She grabs his wrists as he
reaches for her and puts his hands on her shoulders. Then she leans in to kiss
the line of hair that runs down from his naval. She massages his thighs. Zack
is consumed with the jolts of pleasure she gives him. He is reduced to insanity
at the things she does with her tongue. He watches and caresses while she
experiments. His breathe becomes more labored and he knows she’s going to drive
him beyond the point of no return if he doesn’t… Just in time she climbs back
onto him and takes him in. Their mouths crush each others as their bodies melt
together.