Help Me Rhonda

I Come in Late at Night and in the Morning I Just Lay in Bed

It took him a day and a half to find out where she was. Oddly, it was Jacob who told him. It took him another two days to get there by car, or rather his big black truck. Never had he been more tempted to call Thor to teleport him, whisk him from Colorado Springs to the isolated cabin she rented for herself in upstate New York, the Adirondacks to be exact.

It was weird driving up the dirt and gravel road, a small wooden dwelling appearing as he rounded the bend. It was weird, because it reminded him so much of his own isolated cabin in Minnesota. He guessed the weather was similar too: nine months of winter and three months of bad skiing. He chuckled to himself. There was probably frost on the ground at night already, even though it was barely October.

He could see she was there, smoke curling from the stone chimney. He turned off the path, before he reached the house, pulling into an open area surrounded by trees, spill-over parking, he supposed. He turned off the engine, and looked at the house, camouflaged by the foliage, just beginning to turn the brilliant flaming colors of autumn in New York.

Even though he'd driven for nearly 30 hours straight, and had plenty of time in the truck to think about what he was doing, he hadn't. In fact, all he thought about was staying awake and driving. He never once questioned why he was going to her, nor what he intended to say or do once he arrived. And now that he was here, he supposed he needed some time to think about it, figure out what he wanted and what he was prepared to do.

So he sat, as darkness fell, soft lights coming on inside the cabin. He saw her through the windows, flashes of flawless Carter skin, as she moved from room to room, dressed in shorts, and then in AF sweatpants, and that tiny pink tank top. At full dark, she came outdoors to cook on the grill outside the cabin, laying the charcoal, lighting it and returning indoors, coming back out to put something that looked liked chicken and corn on the cob on the surface. She closed the cover of the grill and sat, a book in hand, illuminated by light through the door, waiting for her food.

At that point, Jack's stomach rumbled, and he considered arriving fashionably late for dinner. It had been hours since his last meal and even longer since his last pee break, but Jack was reluctant to leave the solitude and safety of his truck. He hunkered down and waited, sifting through the debris on the seat next to him for something to quell his hunger.

Sam checked her food a couple of times, before she was satisfied. Then she took her meal indoors, and Jack lost track of her. Quietly, he opened his truck door and unfolded from the cab, his knees protesting. Careful to keep himself hidden, he walked only a short way away from his vehicle and took a long and much needed pee, surprised to find himself the slightest bit aroused, and needing to relax before anything came out. “Down boy,” he whispered to his misbehaving dick. He may not have known what he was doing here, but his cock did. Gingerly he tucked himself back in his jeans, pushing his wayward member down his pant leg, trying to get it under control.

Eventually the lights in the cabin were extinguished. He waited another hour or so, and then he left the truck, moving silently through the undergrowth toward the small structure. He still didn't have a plan, or even any idea what he was doing or why. He was going on instinct, and that was all he had.

Back in Colorado, when Daniel told him about Sam's wedding, he shut down, hanging up on his friend and staring off into space for several hours. Then he called Daniel back and said, “What the fuck, Daniel?”

“You're asking about Sam's ceremony now, Jack?”

“Ya think?” he snarked.

“Well, let's see... the bride wore a kind of off-white, creamy satin, cocktail length dress. She was beautiful, Jack. You should have seen her. Pearls in her ears. A little gold cross around her neck. She said it was her mother's. Jacob escorted her down the aisle in his dress blues. He was one proud Papa, lemme tell you. Pete's cop buddies wore dress uniforms too, so the place was a sea of navy blue. Teal arrived in traditional Chulak robes, but everyone thought they were African, I guess, a little kofia covering his first prime mark.” Daniel took a breath and Jack jumped in.

“Daniel!”

The archaeologist ignored him. “General Hammond came in from Washington, and Rodney MacKay took the last Prometheus run from Atlantis for the event. I think he wanted to see if Sam was actually getting married for himself.”

“Daniel.” There was a warning sound in Jack's voice that Daniel disregarded.

“The hall was a little tacky, a little small, but there were flowers everywhere, and tons of candles, so no one really noticed, especially when Sam arrived with Jacob.”

“Daniel!” Jack was seething and barely keeping it together. He supposed he deserved Daniel's treatment, especially since he was usually the one dishing out the teasing, but right now he didn't have time for this. “Just tell me what she said.”

“What she said?” the younger man queried. “Let me see... she came down the aisle. Jacob gave her hand to Shanahan. They turned to the minister and ...” Daniel paused.

“And...” Jack reiterated, becoming increasingly agitated.

“And, then she turned to Pete and said, 'I can't do this,” and she walked back down the aisle, out of the hall and into the limo in the parking lot. She drove away almost immediately.”

“Did you talk to her?” Jack asked. “I mean, later?”

“She turned her phones off, so I went by her place. It was obvious. She'd left.”

“Where did she go, Daniel?”

“I don't know, Jack. No one seems to know, not even Jacob, at least, he's not telling me.”

Silently, Jack approached the cabin. He was pretty sure he knew which room was her bedroom, so when he came through the unlocked back door, he moved quickly toward it. His eyes were accustomed to the dark, even without night goggles, so when he saw her asleep in her bed, he was able to discern every curve of her body, every shape of her sleeping form. Without thinking, he stripped off his clothes and slipped into bed beside her in his boxers, his large, warm hand on her belly under her little tank top.

She sighed and snuggled toward him, her face fitting into the crook of his neck, her hand on his bare chest. “Jack,” she whispered softly, more a breath of air than his name. His arm went around her and he pulled her to his side, her leg sliding over his. It felt so natural, so good, so right. Sam in his arms in bed, snuggled together, with a promise for tomorrow. He slept soundly.

As light dawned over the little dwelling, Jack awoke, Sam still in his arms. He wasn't sure if it was the daylight or her proximity that woke him, but he was definitely awake, every part of him, and one in particular was enjoying her snuggling. He snuck a quick look down the long plane of his body and just had to scrub his hand across his forehead, his eyes squinting shut, hoping that when he reopened them his giant hard-on wasn't making itself quite so known, tenting the sheets like a May pole without ribbons.

But it was, and to make it worse, Sam found it, her hand fisting around the thick base, her lips nuzzling his neck. “Jack,” she said, as softly as the night before.

“I'm here, Sam,” he said, “but you gotta let go, or...” He wasn't sure he wanted to tell her how close he was to coming all over her hand just yet. And he liked her hand on him, her grip just right, but he needed to talk to her before they made love... at least that's what he thought until she grabbed him, making him want to fuck her hard and fast and take no prisoners, let the talking wait.

She was pressing her body against his side, little rocking movements, her nipples tight, her crotch fitted to his hip bone, her hand squeezing and releasing, and the urge was becoming overwhelming to him, when she abruptly stopped. Her entire body froze, her hand tight around him. “Sam,” he whispered, “let go... please.”

Slowly, as if in some kind of slo-mo movie scene, Sam raised her head and looked at him, her eyes starting with his handsome face and sliding down his long body, from his bare chest to the raised sheets over his groin. And then everything sped up, and he wasn't sure how it happened but she was up and out of the bed, standing in the middle of the little bedroom, her hands balled into fists, staring at him in shock, rapidly morphing into anger.

“What... what are you doing, sir?”