Girls' Night Out

See part 1 for disclaimer.

WARNING: This is rated *****NC-17***** for explicit sexual content!

Girls' Night Out, Part 2 of 2

by Ginger

What I find most surprising, in retrospect, was the complete lack of apprehension on my part. I never even once considered bailing out, which I, again, ascribe to that little vacation from rational thinking I was so enjoying.

There I sat, my feet dangling from the hood of Wonderboy's Mazda Miata, as I sat back on my elbows, gazed up at the stars and waited for him to materialize. I suppose there was a chance he'd spot me and split on foot, but I guess I never seriously entertained that possibility. I just *knew* he'd show up. And he did.

"I'm impressed," he remarked, stepping out of the shadows. "Getting into my dressing room to swipe my car keys was a neat trick. Security here is pretty tight because some fans can get... overzealous."

"Don't be too impressed, Jarod," I replied nonchalantly. "Sometimes it's just a matter of knowing who to tip."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me what you're doing here."

"Here as in the hood of your car or here as in D.C.?" I responded coyly.

"Either... both."

"Believe it or not, I was out with a bunch of old school chums. I think you may have met some of them. They're big fans."

He emitted a dry chuckle and observed, "So, this is a coincidence."

"Looks like... And I guess you're either here on a pretend or experimenting with new forms of self-expression."

"A dancer from the club was murdered a couple months ago and the wrong person is sitting in jail for committing the crime."

"Ah," I said with a slow nod then sat up straight and dangled the car keys in front of him.

When he made a move for them, I snapped my hand back and shoy hey head. He folded his arms and issued a challenge through narrowed eyes; I answered it by setting my jaw and raising my left eyebrow. And thus we remained, locked in each other's gaze, for one beat, then two, then three, then...

I've always known the boy was fast, and yet I was suprised by how quickly he had me flat on my back with my hands pinned on either side of my head. He had somehow maneuvered himself between my legs and was leaning forward so that the top half of his body pressed against mine. He was still standing so I wasn't bearing his full weight, just enough to suggest how powerful and male he was, just enough to feel really, really good.

"Aren't you afraid... someone will see?" I asked, somewhat haltingly, and I was suddenly aware of my chest heaving delightfully into his with every breath I drew. "Wouldn't want to blow your cover," I added.

"Actually," he explained softly, his head hovering over mine. "This is exactly the type of behavior I need to exhibit this evening. In fact, I was going to have to st tst the help of a bystander for this part but then *you* showed up to play the role." He lowered his head until his lips were less than an inch above mine then tacked on, "And you're playing it beautifully, Miss Parker."

"You're kidding," I commented breathlessly.

"Nope," he replied with a grin then stole a quick glance at my left hand balled tightly into a fist around the car keys and suggested, "You drive."

Grinning back at him I replied, "You navigate."

* * * *

There was something vaguely surreal about being in one of the lab rat's nests at the same time as the furry little critter himself. It was kind of like being at one of those places bearing a "George Washington slept here" plaque and running into a 270-year-old guy wearing a powdered wig and wooden dentures.

He let me have the run of the place, remaining silent and watchful as I circled the large, one-room basement apartment, stopping occasionally to run my fingers across the odd possession - a necktie slung over the back of a chair, a magazine setting open on the small table next to the kitchenette, a slinky (apparently, he hadn't outgrown them) dangling over the arm of a rather worse for wear looking sofa. The DSAs, of course, were nowhere in sight. Not that I really gave a rat's ass (if you'll pardon the ironic choice of phrase).

When I worked my way overthe the sleeping area, things got a bit more interesting. I smirked at the eight Mr. Potato Heads - all cowboys -lined up in a perfect row on the tall chest of drawers. What interested me more was the impressive array of rope looped around hooks on the back of the closet door. I stopped in front of it and immediately sensed his presence behind me.

"Nylon, cotton, hemp, silk," he instructed, his warm breath tickling my neck, and the inside of his arm brushing the outside of mine, as he reached around me to point out each one.

"Do you remember Florida?" I asked offhandedly as I pondered the items hanging before me.

He emitted a soft chuff of amusement and replied, "Of course I do."

Lifting a hand to touch the various fibers, I inquired, "And which one is the... softest?"

"The silk," he answered smoothly as his hand covered mine.

He moved my hand to the silk twine and guided my fingers over its gently sloping braided texture. His chest was pressed against my back and I could feel his heartbeat. I must have closed my eyes because I sensed them opening as I pulled the silk rope off the hook. Then I turned to face him and leaned back against the door to put a little space between us before advising,

"You need to trust me, Jarod."

"We need to trust eotheother."

"My turn first," I insisted with an air of steely determination. He shrugged and smiled, the look in his eyes making me flush... all over.

* * * *

In looking back, I am amazed at how rationally we behaved even as we embarked upon a totally irrational course of action. He didn't have a headboard but, with a gesture and a nod, we silently agreed that a pipe running from ceiling to floor in one corner of the room would suffice and, together, pushed the bed into that corner. Fortunately, it was queen size so his long, lean body would fit diagonally across it.

Then, without ceremony, I tossed the rope onto the bed and motioned for him to lie down. He hesitated just long enough to raise my blood pressure a point or two then flopped onto his back and kicked off his shoes. I nodded brusquely in the direction of the pipe and watched as he used his elbows to slither into position. When he was exactly where I wanted him, he stared intently into my eyes and uttered the loveliest words I'd heard in a very long time:

"I am at your disposal, Miss Parker."

I must have been grinning like Cheshire Cat as I climbed onto the bed and proceeded to walk my way up his body. Straddling his thighs, I grabbed a handful of shirt and yanked it from his waistband. He took the hint and sat up so I could pull it up and over his head and toss it aside. He appeared poised to wrap his arms around me but I cast him a warning glare, shook my head vigorously and, pressing my hand firmly over his beating heart, shoved him onto his back again. He sighed and raised his arms above his head.

"Now that's a good little cowboy," I murmuredn inn inched forward to settle across his abdomen and leaned over him to tether his hands securely to the pipe. Testing the knots, I asked,"

"Is this too tight? I don't want to cut off your circulation."

"I'm just fine," he replied in a wry, muffled tone.

Feeling the vibration of his words through the thin fabric of my halter top, I realized that he was getting a face full and chuckled throatily then sat back on my heels to admire my handywork. I was momentarily stymied. It was rather like being a kid locked in a candy store - a candy store I passed everyday of my life but was never allowed to enter. I couldn't decide what to sample first. Then my eyes were drawn to that crooked smile and my decision was made. Sighing and shaking my head, I leaned forward to press my lips to his for only the second time in our lives.

Sweet Mother of God, Jarod's lips were everything I remembered and more - so soft and yielding and sweet. When they parted to allow my tongue to slip in and explore, I tasted heaven. He seemed all at once to be both familiar and foreign territory. It felt as though I were taking possession of a wild thing that I had no hope of taming. I whimpered; he moaned. Heaven.

When I broke the kiss, he craned his neck to chaselipslips, already tugging at his bindings. I sat back and tenderly stroked his cheek to quiet him as I struggled to get my own breathing under control. *Lord help us,* I thought, *that was only a kiss.*

When I climbed off him and slid off the bed, a brief look of panic swept across his face. My chest tightened at the prospect that he didn't trust me, and I found myself reassuring him in a voice so tender I barely recognized it as my own,

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

"I know," he replied with a small nod.

I then proceeded to shed my boots, socks and pants. His eyes flashed with excitement as they drank in the sight of my black lace panties and bare legs. His burgeoning erection was already visible beneath the heavy fabric of his jeans and when I climbed back onto his body to settle down against it, I thought I might die of pleasure.

"God, Parker," he groaned, gritting his teeth as I wiggled my hips.

I leaned forward to rake my nails across his beautiful, golden skin. When I grazed his nipples, he yelped and I felt him surge beneath me. The look on his face was absolutely priceless.

"So," I remarked, raising an eyebrow and grinning predatorily. "The cowboy has sensitive nipples."

Licking my lips, I sank down to capture one between my teeth, nipping lightly then soothing with my tongue. Meanwhile, I worked the other one with my hand, alternating between pinching and lightly scraping the gooseflesh with my fingernails. I don't know what language Jarod was speaking by that point, but it sure as hell wasn't English.

I glanced up into his face and was rewarded with a glorious combination of bewilderment and lust. Apparently his previous - pitifully unworthy - lovers had lacked imagination and neglected that part of his anatomy. Idiots. Clearly these women deserved nothing less than to be wiped clean from his memory, which was precisely what I planned to do. After switching sides to ensure that each nipple got the same treatment, I rose up on my knees and announced,

"This cowboy is overdressed."

He practically howled with relief as I opened his fly, his rock hard erection immediately bursting free from its denim prison. I pulled off his jeans then took a moment to eye the tent in his silk boxers. Concluding that I'd waited long enough to get a good look at the only part of Wonderboy I had yet to see that evening, I shrugged and removed those too then sat back on my heels to take in the view.

Wonderboy indeed.

After a moment or two, Jarod raised his head and cast me an inquisitive look.

"Is there a problem?" I asked, stifling a smile.

"I'm feeling a little... exposed... at the moment," he replied thickly.

"Are you? Well, we'll have to see what we can do about that."

I scampered up the bed and retook my position across his abdomen. I pulled the rubberband out of my hair and shook out my ponytail then made a show of untying the strings to my halter top, drawing out the moment to further torment my hnd bnd bothered cowboy. I noticed him steal a desperate glance at his tethered hands and could see the muscles flexing in his finely sculpted arms. I bit my lip and shuddered. It felt *so* good to have that kind of power over him.

When I finally tossed aside my top, he gasped, "You're beautiful... beautiful."

I slithered down his body until I could feel his erection bobbing between my parted thighs and rubbed my breasts against his chest, reveling in the tickle of springy hairs.

"Jesus, Parker," he groaned. "You're going to kill me."

Looking deeply into his eyes, so heavy and dark with arousal, I warned, "I'm sure gonna try" then captured his lips in a rough, punishing kiss.

By then, I doubt I was much more in control of the situation than he, overcome as I was with a powerful urge to devour him. I worked my way down his body with a series of licks, nibbles and kisses, tracing the countours of his finely muscled abdomen with my tongue, dipping into his belly button before continuing to his hips. The tickle of my hair further teased his sensitized flesh as I moved over him. When I reached his magnificently erect penis, I took it in my hand and enjoyed its weight and girth. I dipped my head to capture a bead of moisture from the tip and his body jerked in response. I heard a something rattle and glanced up to see that he was straining so hard against the rope that the pipe was actually shaking.

"Careful there, cowboy," I rasped. "We wouldn't want any accidents to spoil our evening."

Still holding him in my hand, I looked into his desperate eyes and nodded reassuringly. I waited until his arms relaxed and his eyes fluttered closed to return to the task at hand.

I went down on him with reckless abandon. His moans and cries of pleasure were exquisite, his musky scent delicious. When his body tensed and I felt hot liquid hitting the back of my throat, I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, wanting to hold on to everything, everything that was his.

* * * *

When it was his turn, Jarod gave his own back, of course. He made me come once right away, but then tortured me by bringing me to the brink over and over and over again but not letting me fall. The son-of-a-bitch gleefully reduced me to a quivering, begging basketcase. I could have killed him were it not for the explosive orgasm he eventually let me have, watching in rapt fascination as I practically bayed at the moon.

After that, the rope was forgotten and we delighted in mutual exploration, making love until we were too exhausted to move. We dozed, spooning, then awoke to renew our lovemaking. He took me from behind, gently, as I lay cradled in his arms. I felt completely possessed, safe, and worshipped. He whispered my first name over and over again as he moved inside me, sending shivers up and down my spine. I pressed his hand tightly to my heart; his heart beat in time to mine against my back. It was like discovering sex all over again; an experience reborn. It should have been terrifying but it wasn't.

* * * *

I hear a sound but can't quite place it. I hear it again and realize it's that of a throat clearing. My eyes snap open to find Sydney standing in front of my desk and scratching his chin. Shit.

"Miss Parker, are you feeling alright? You look a bit flushed."

"I'm fine, Syd," I reply with a calm smile, as I shake off the effects of my reminiscences.

"I trust you had a good weekend with your friends?" he inquires raising an eyebrow.

For an instant, I entertain the thought that there are no such things as conincidences, and that the man standing in front of me knows *exactly* how good my weekend was. I quickly shove the idea into the deep recesses of my mind and respond, "Better than anticipated, actually. And yours?"

"Splendid, Miss Parker, splendid. Apparently, we have a package from Jarod this morning. Broots is bringing it up now."

Bursting through the door, Broots appears with a large box he has apparently taken it upon himself to open. He's grinning like an idiot and he's beet red. Oh brother.

"Wait 'til you get a load of this!" he says as he clumsily drops the box on my desk. I glare but he doesn't notice. "You'll never guess what Jarod's been up to!" he adds, fidgeting like a hyperactive child.

"Then kindly enlighten us," I reply. My face could b Mt. Mt. Rushmore.

He proceeds to pull items, one by one, out of the box. A white cowboy hat... ate ste satin western shirt... white satin pants held together with velcro... chaps... boots... a silver lasso... and finally... the g-string, which he holds away from his body and quickly drops on my desk. I raise my eyebrows and look at Sydney, who is wearing that expression of suppressed amentment I see whenever Jarod pulls something like this.

"I heard about it on the news this morning," Broots announces excitedly. "A woman who runs a 'club for women' in D.C. was arrested last night for the murder of one of her dancers. He had been her star attraction and she apparently became obsessed with him and killed him in a jealous rage after he took up with a woman he met at the club. In fact, his girlfriend was in jail for the murder until the police received new evidence. Sure sounds like the work of Jarod and I guess it was."

"Well, Freud, have you anything to say about Jarod's new found exhibitionism?" I ask, crossing my arms at my chest.

"Not really. I believe that to Jarod this was simply another role to play, a pretend like any other."

"Well then," I comment, pushing my chair back from my desk. I stand up and continue, "It's too bad Wonderboy didn't send a video. Might have been an entertaining way to start the week."

I move around my desk and dip into my jacket pocket to produce a twenty dollar bill. I casually stroll over to Broots and stuff the bill into the waistband of his pants. He flinches and swallows hard, his eyes darting around the room.

"What do you say you go down to that new coffee stand on SL-3 and get us lattes for the 10:00 a.m. briefing?" Glancing at Sydney I add, "I'll see you both there."

And even though I can't see what's going on behind me as I glide toward the door, I can well imagine. Broots casts a look of complete bewilderment at Sydney, whose only reply is an easy shrug of his shoulders. I exit smirking.

# # # #

FIN