Having His Cake and Eating It Whole

Having His Cake and Eating It Whole
Part 1 of 4


The Introduction

It had gone on long enough!

? The explicit sexual fantasies that woke him diamond hard with an ache in his groin that
couldn't be quelled with his fist.
? The sporadic - all too brief - carnal encounters that left him utterly sated yet ultimately
hungrier than when he started.
? The frequent erotic phone sex that was daring and out of character for both but was the
only thing that kept him sane during their separations.

All of it … the whole ball of wax was becoming unacceptable, unbearable, intolerable.

Harm was done.

It was no longer enough.

Truth to tell: it had never been enough.

Physically it was so much more than he could have hoped it confused him into thinking it was – at
the very least – adequate and clearly more than he had been getting.

So what was the problem … The issue … The dilemma … The catch-22 … (so to speak)???

He wanted more … he wanted it all … but didn't want to risk losing what he had to get it. To be
honest, adult, respectful and say that he wanted more would surely cost him what he had, but
what he had was no longer acceptable.

Something had to be done. Some change had to occur. It had to be handled delicately …
persuasively … he had to make her think she wanted more too. That was going to be very hard
to do. Mac hated to me handled or maneuvered. If she discovered his manipulation all would be
lost.

Harm had made a plan. He had been working it for months, but was going too slowly. There was
progress – some progress.

The biggest issue was: geography. (Didn't it always boil down to location, location, location?)
There were things being talked about that would get him back in the states at the very least – still
not the same time zone, but 3000 miles closer. That was a HUGE step in the right direction.

The secondary issue was: owning his desire, expressing it and declaring it to her. Open honest
discussions were never his long suit. If he admitted his feelings the he would be left vulnerable
and open rejection.

The final hurdle was Sarah "Mac" MacKenzie herself. There was no sign – subtle or overt – to
lead him to believe that she wanted a change in the relationship at all. What he was experiencing
was a new side of her – a side he never would have expected. There was no evidence that she
thought it was a new side; in fact she appeared very comfortable with the way things were. On
the other hand, she did hide her feelings very well. In all they years he had known her at JAG he
was never clear on what her feelings for him were. He had always believed that Sarah wanted to
be married, but maybe he was wrong about that too.

About two/three months into the plan (little more than two years into the 'relationship') Harm was
blindsided. Out of the blue a simple phone call – not unlike the many he had made in the past –
pushed him into action. The call had shaken him to his foundation. Subtlety and gentle
persuasiveness were no longer and option. He needed to act quickly or lose her completely.

~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~

It was a Thursday. Like any other day he arrived home with one thing on his mind and a burning
desire in his pants. Her wake up call was an hour away so he slipped into something comfortable
and prepped for the call. It was supposed to be an erotic conversation with lots of 'dirty talk' with
more onomatopoetic dialogue (i.e. grunts, groans, moans, nasal sighs) than actual words. It was
just a call to end his day and start hers.

Sadly, his worst fear was realized – his recurring nightmare came to life. Not that there wasn't
any talking dirty or unintelligible grunts and sighs of satisfaction – but there was something else.
He asked nothing and she disclosed nothing but something was different, something was wrong –
she hadn't been alone that night. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did. She was alone when
the call came in, but had he called 30 minutes earlier he would have been told to call back. It
disturbed him into action.

Less than 24 hours later he was granted leave: Friday AM through Tuesday AM and was headed
to sunny southern California. He would be there from the time she secured on Friday night at
1800 until he had to be at the airport on Monday at 0800. That was the time they had: 62 Hours –
nearly three times their norm. That ought to be enough time to set things in motion.

In the past two years only one of their assignations lasted as long as 24 hours. It tended to wane
a little in the last 4 and almost left them with nothing to do but talk. However there was a second
wind and a last kick of libido to make parting a struggle and the discussion tabled. So it was safe
to assume that he had 20 – 26 hours before he had to move on to agenda item number 2. That
would take some thought, some finesse and a decision on his own part about how he was going
to bring it up. His hope for success was slim. It was going to take an act of God, congress and a
whole lot of luck and some really fast-talking. On the other hand it could be as simple as making
a statement and posing a question and a simple, delighted 'yes' from her. That was less likely.

As he made ready for the trip and for the entire flight his mind was racing and his emotions were
all over the map. Maybe things the way they were was the best he could hope for and more than
he deserved – on the other hand shouldn't there have been more? There were moments when
he felt like it would be a slam-dunk; that he was a hero on a mission that he could not fail. Other
times he was sure he was going to be blown out of the sky; when he felt desperate and foolish
with no hope of success. Those led to questions he could not answer: what was her agenda –
did she even have one? Maybe flying half way around the world to surprise her in her home town
was a bad idea particularly after what he had discovered the morning prior. Maybe she wasn't
alone. Maybe he would be unwelcome. Maybe he should call first. It was then that he realized
he was feeling more than jealousy – he was feeling rage. It was not directed at anyone or
anything, but it was a rage he had never felt before. It didn't last long and it didn't linger – but he
couldn't deny it was there. He assumed that once they were together it would go away. It was
too late anyway … he was on his way and there was no turning back. He was going ALL IN and
would either win, lose or draw.


~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~

The History

It had been two years, three months and nineteen days since the end of JAG and the ill-fated
transfer, desperate proposal and ludicrous plan to leave their fate to chance. Two years since
they discovered that – if in no other way - they were sexually compatible. Compatible is too soft a
word for it. They fit together like hand and glove. They worked like a well-oiled machine with all
12 pistons pumping. They ran right out of the gate with nothing held back.

It – the first time - was in his apartment hours before they were to fly away in opposite directions
with no hope of reconciliation. It was a hope and a wish realized when Mac showed up at his
door and turned the conversation to their relationship – or lack thereof. He had resigned himself
to the idea that she would let him walk out of her life, but there was nothing more he could do. It
was her move. And move she did. She flirted with him, kissed him and encouraged him to
propose. There was little discussion of the larger issues that had kept them apart for years. It
was an adolescent attempt at a deeper conversation by people who didn't want to do the real
work. And they came up with a simplistic plan to resolve the biggest roadblock – location. The
agreement – leave it to fate - happened so fast and was so reckless that it set the mood for the
first time.

Fast!

Reckless!

Good thing it was also fan-fucking-tastic.

So after 9 years, too many missed opportunities and misunderstanding to count - they did it. The
BIG IT. They acknowledged that they loved each other and they fucked. Don't be confused. It
was not love they were making. They fucked. It was raw, down and dirty sex. They didn't bother
with seduction, foreplay or the bed. He dragged her to the floor and yanked at her clothes
enough to expose her prizes to him. She freed his dick and he drove into her before he had
tested to see if she were ready. She was more than ready - hot, wet and very tight. He was no
Clydesdale but he was enough to satisfy most women, evidently enough to satisfy her. The
sound she made at that first driving thrust was a cross between a moan, a yelp and a grunt all
tinged with erotic sigh of relief at finally crossing the line that had divided them for years. With
each erratic thrust she moaned and cried out louder, begging him not to stop. His first
expectation was proven: she was a screamer and it gave him license to work her body harder,
work her in ways that he had fantasized about. His hands were everywhere: fondling, rubbing,
pulling and caressing. His mouth, lips and tongue were following suit: sucking, licking, biting and
kissing. She could barely keep up. She couldn't think or react; all she could do was take it and
plead for more. As quick and frenzied as it was, they came together and came hard – that would
be the signature of their sexual relationship.

He lay on top of her for a moment dripping in sweat, heart racing and twitching inside of her. She
was still spasming around him. He pushed up enough to look down into her face. He was
expecting to see love and was prepared to state his undying devotion to her again, to repeat the
proposal – as a good officer and gentleman would do. But what he saw was savage animal lust
in her eyes. She was not done. One orgasm would not quench her desire even for a moment;
the wild craving beast inside of her had been unleashed. He didn't know what to say and opened
his mouth hoping that something poignant would just fall out.

Mac silenced him with a fevered kiss. She was gyrating below him coaxing him to start thrusting
again. Apparently he was too slow. She rolled him over on his back and straddled him. She
ripped the remainder of her clothes off and tore his shirt open. She put his hands on her breasts
to work her nipples (as if he needed to be instructed). Her gyrations worked their magic. He was
ready again. She impaled herself on his freshly hardened dick. He bucked into her and she rode
him like a rodeo queen who was intent on making it a lot longer than 8 seconds. And she did,
she had skill. She shifted, shimmed and ground into him with a fevered delight that Harm never
new was in her. She threw her head back and arched her back thrusting her breasts into his
ready mouth and hands. He knew instinctually how she needed to be kneaded and sucked –
there was no learning curve. With his first one away, he was able to hold off long enough for her
to truly sate herself, and then he shot deep into her. She folded down on top of him panting. He
stroked her cooling body memorizing each and every curve.

Mac could think of nothing to say in spite of the fact that something should have been said – by
him or by her. She was still shocked at her reaction to him; her raging desire was still strong.
Alcohol was the only thing that had ever taken hold of her that strongly though she wouldn't
recognize that Harm would be her next drug for a couple of months. She kissed him instead to
stop either of them from saying something that would ruin it or make it too real.

Before they had a chance to talk the phone rang. It was their friends inquiring about a farewell
drink. From their compromised position on the floor, he told them of their plans and asked them
to gather the rest of the crew in two hours so they could make the announcement. It was done.
There was nothing left to talk about. They would follow through with it. They smiled, laughed and
kissed to seal the deal.

"Why two hours?" She asked coyly. "I could be ready in 15 minutes." She was anxious to be on
the other side of the plan back to having her needs met. She had plans for him – things she
wanted to do to him and have done to her. It was going to be a long night. "We could be back
here in two hours and …"

"We are not done." He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. They had enough
time to have a more sensual encounter – more "making love" than "fucking". They took the time
to really explore each other's bodies finding most of the 'sweet spots' – there was a lot more
tongue but little talking of substance: declarations of love with eyes closed, over the top
compliments and minimal instructions/encouragements. They thought they were finally sated for
the time being, but once they were in the shower it was clear that they were far from done. It was
a surprise to both of them, but by then it was clear that actually doing IT only served to fuel their
desire rather than to quench it.

Still the proposal had not been re-extended or reaccepted; no check in was done. In fact the plan
was pointedly NOT spoken about and each time it became too much to ignore, they kissed, or
touched in some way as to avoid the conversation.

Finally she had to go home to get changed – the clothes she wore were not only torn but were not
appropriate for the occasion. He didn't want to let her out of his sight, but he had his own
dressing to do. They would never make it to the meeting to decide their fate and start their life
together if they didn't separate for a little while. As soon as she was gone he panicked. He
expected a phone call saying that she couldn't go through with it. He drove to the bar fearing his
cell phone ring. Even when the bartender asked why he was all dressed up, he was still not sure
that it would go off as planned. Then she walked through the doors; he had a flash that things
would be OK. That they did love each other and that they had made the right – albeit impulsive –
decision. But that feeling was short lived. The first words she whispered in his ear after they
kissed were 'I'm still wet.' It was clear that she wasn't satisfied and hadn't been thinking past the
sex. Though he hadn't admitted it verbally, he was dealing with his own hard on. He pushed it
into her hip so she would know his secret and to use her body to hide his desire. It was
impossible to know if it was really that good or if it has just been so long anticipated that anything
short of 'earth moving' was unacceptable. And neither paused to consider that lust might have
affected their judgment in the other matter.

It wasn't until the coin was tossed, the winner declared, congratulations extended and practical
questions asked (and implied) that the reality of their 'deal' set in – a colder shower was never
had.

? What will you do after you resign?
? Will you start your family right away?
? How long had you two been hiding this?
? When did you finally know that you couldn't live without each other?
? So much, so fast … moving, quitting, getting married – aren't you a little nervous?
? Is marriage/family enough to give up everything you have been working toward for nearly
20 years?

On their way to the Justice of the Peace, it was decided that a marriage wouldn't serve them.

He pulled the car over and turned to her.

"We can't do this." She stated.

"No." He sighed with relief that he wasn't going to be the one to hurt her. "But I don't know if I
can say 'good-bye' to you."

"This isn't good-bye." She said clearly in spite of the fact that she knew it was a lie. "We'll be in
touch."

"It won't be the same." He complained. "We were so close."

"Who knows what tomorrow will bring?" She placated. "Maybe it will do us good."

"Right." He agreed. "And we can still talk … Phone, fax, email … it will be like we were never
apart."

She nodded. The hypocrisy was becoming too much to bear. They couldn't talk when they were
in the same room and they had nine years to try, how the hell were they expecting to talk on the
phone and to what end since their careers were diverging and the odds of them being in the
same place at the same time again were slim at best.

They called the general and canceled the resignation from the car. The transfers and relocations
were back on and there was packing to do before the flights the next day. He drove to her
apartment and didn't go up with her at her request.

"I do love you, Sarah." He said sadly.

Mac smiled weakly. "I know … I love you too."

Their love was real but was it enough sustain a marriage in the face of the sacrifice/guilt of the
loss of one career? They might have known that if they had taken the time to talk through their
issues like adults. Maybe made a rational practical decision based upon their goals and a future
together. Maybe he should quit. He had family in San Diego, it would be better to keep Mattie in
the US and he could easily find a job in or out of the Navy in the San Diego area. Or maybe she
should quit. If they wanted to start a family right away she couldn't in good conscience take that
command position only to take maternity leave in a year. And she always felt that she would
want to be a stay at home mother for at least the first two years.

Regardless of the 'might have been's and the 'what if's, no discussion was had. Instead they
fucked like teenagers, went 'all in' and left it to chance – literally to the flip of a coin. At least they
were wise enough to know that what they had (the love and the sex) wasn't enough to justify the
sacrifice of twenty years of hard work that was about to pay off and to stop themselves from
following through with a STUPID plan that could ruin both of them.

So they agreed to part as friends neither admitting that it was in name only and embraced their
'good-bye'. There was no kiss, no statement of regret, just the press of two hands and a last
look.

The biggest regret they felt as they boarded their planes the next day was that they had denied
themselves a honeymoon night. They denied themselves a chance at making real love. One
night of so-long-sex with lots of pillow talk and honest discussions of feelings might have brought
them closer and helped to make the distance between them not feel so oppressive. However
their adolescent attitude convinced them that one night together would only serve to punish them
for wasting their time at JAG and the utter failure they were as a couple. They were still about
winners and losers – and as usually the Navy won and they lost. So they ended before they truly
began …

Or so they thought.

For the next several weeks each nursed wounds and held grudges that they had no expectation
or desire to recover from. They each blamed the other (and not themselves) for the state of
affairs, each tried to convince him or her self of feeling less than he or she did. They were
consumed by these feelings. What they had failed to recognize was that a 'seed' was planted
that fateful night. It rooted and survived in spite of - or maybe because of - their decision to part.
It was not a tangible seed like a child – rather it was something so intangible that there was no
right words describe it – but as simply as possible --- it was DESIRE.

Their desire grew exponentially with each mile the came between them, with each passing hour.
Their need was an unyielding, all encompassing, ever consuming, carnal, physical, lascivious
appetite for the other. It wasn't rational, reasonable, practical or romantic – yet it lived. In spite of
the lack of care they gave it. They ignored, starved, neglected and rejected it. They each took
other lovers to try to sate it but to no avail. It grew like a weed - distorted and wild, demanding
and insatiable, undeniable and unkillable. It covered over the love they had finally acknowledged
and hid it from sight. It nullified their friendship and their professional regard. There was only one
thing that consumed their thoughts – a wild craving burning desire for the other.

It was three weeks before they could act on their desire again. They each found a reason to get
back to Washington – made up some excuse about closing up apartments or signing papers for
the sale of a car; something that could easily have been done over the phone or via the mail.
Instead they found themselves flying 3000 miles for a chance encounter – of course neither
would ever admit that even two years later.

Conveniently they chose the same hotel. They hadn't told their friends they would be back in
town and had barely referenced it to each other in a benign email. Neither was surprised when
they 'ran into each other' in the lobby. They hemmed, they hawed; they pretended to be annoyed
with each other. They skimmed the surface of what their new jobs would entail. They feigned an
offer of sharing dinner but each claimed that they were jet lagged and needed to sleep before
they were headed back to their new homes – their new lives – the next day. They even made it
back to their respective rooms and waited a long 5 minutes before they were in the hall headed
for the other's room. He – with his long, determined stride – made it down the stairs to her floor
before the elevator arrived for her. Their eyes met and locked. An older couple was waiting too
and that stopped Him from seizing her on sight. The tension was building.

"Colonel!" He called to her trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Do you have a
moment?"

She nodded slowly. She broke eye contact long enough to glance at the older couple. "Sure."
She said weakly and headed back to her room with him hard on her heels.

She fumbled with the key card and he could no longer hold back. He wrapped his arm around
her from behind and pulled her close making sure she could feel his arousal.

"Oh god!" She exhaled in relief.

He could feel her heart racing and her breath quickening and was grateful she had chosen a
flimsy summer sundress rather than a uniform. He brushed the hair off her neck with his nose,
pressed his lips behind her ear and let his tongue tickle the spot that he had found weeks before.
The moan she made set him on fire. He slid one hand between the folds of her dress and
caressed her bare breast and pulled at her hardened nipple, the other pressed down her side to
her thigh and pulled open her legs. He thrust his erection into her back and pressed her clit.

She couldn't take it any more. The key card forgotten, she turned and kissed him deeply. It was
clear; she wanted him. She wrapped her legs around his hips. He thrust through his pants at her
begging for relief.

"Door" She pleaded. "Open the door."

She clung on, sucked on his neck and ground her pelvis against his as he used both hands to
open the door. In moments they were safe from the public eyes of the hall. In seconds her dress
and thong were torn off leaving her naked perfect body open to him. He dropped his pants,
pushed her up against the door and buried himself deep inside of her pounding home his need
and satisfying hers. She was hotter, wetter and tighter than he had fantasized about. He was
longer, harder and reached deeper within her than she had remembered.

"Fuck me!" She ordered tearing at his shirt.

It was an intense encounter where little of substance was spoken. They didn't talk through issues
or claim undying love for the other. It was pure, raw, wanton, angry sex that raged on until the
wee hours of the morning. He escaped before dawn as she pretended to sleep. They had made
no promises to each other nor were any plans made for the next assignation. It could have been
their last.

The next time was 10 days later in Florida when she surprised him as she passed him in the hall
of the hotel on her way to the pool. He had no idea that she was there – he had hoped she would
show up, but there was no reason for her to be there. It was after midnight and the pool of course
was closed but she had already known that. He had a Jacuzzi tub in his room. In spite of all the
hot water and soap involved, it was still a pretty dirty encounter. They had to call for extra towels.

Then 18 days later in New York City. That was a little harder to maneuver. They had booked
different hotels by accident and had a very difficult time running into the other. They were about
to give up when fate pulled them together – they got in the same cab and wound up at a third
hotel. It was a very expensive four hours but neither one complained.

The last "unplanned" meeting was 21 days later in Chicago. Until then they hadn't openly
discussed their assignations. The information passed cryptically in newsy emails with no
guarantee that the other would be at the same place at the same time. They would make up
reasons. His position was naturally about travel so it was easier for him to get around. Hers was
a little more difficult.

The manufactured commitments in Chicago were hard to get out of. The meaningless meeting
that he had set up ran ridiculously longer than expected. The locals probably thought that if he
were coming all that way they should make it good. She was done with her appointment ahead
of schedule and had secured the room. She wanted to be annoyed that he was keeping her
waiting. She wanted to be indignant that she was making such ridiculous arrangements for sex
with a secret lover. It was all so sordid and sleazy – and very, very erotic. He finally showed up -
112 minutes before he had to leave to catch his flight (shorter than most movies). It was his fault
that they had so little time so he spent most of his energy focused on her and her satisfaction
neglecting his own needs in the process – well not entirely. Satisfying her was an experience he
wouldn't trade for anything. He nearly missed his flight ensuring her third set of orgasms.

He called her from the airport; she was still in bed.

"I can still taste you, smell you, hear you …" He breathed into the phone. "…feel you under me."

"Always leave him wanting more." She sighed as she pushed her fingers between her thighs and
let out a nasally moan for him.

"I want more." He stated clearly and for the record.

"Hmmmm." She moaned again letting him know she was getting more at the moment.

"Do you?" He asked.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm …" She groaned her yes.

He finally asked the question: "Is this enough for you?"

"Yes." She said simply though she knew it was a lie. He wasn't just a secret lover to her - he
was the man she had loved and denied for a decade. She loved him and needed him --- the sex
was only that good because of her feelings for him. But to admit that, even to her self was
terrifying.

His heart sank. It wasn't enough for him, but it was clearly all he could get and the most he was
going to be allowed to give. "Can I call you?" He asked without pointedly asking if they could
make REAL rendezvous rather than trumped up chance encounters.

"Yes." She had to believe that if they didn't have to concoct extravagant scenarios to 'run into
each other' that their time together would be longer and more satisfying – though that was hard to
believe. "Any time … day or night." She offered groaning as she rubbed on herself.

He lowered his voice. "Wish I didn't have to go … would like to have watched."

"You have a pretty good imagination." She cooed and whimpered loudly for his benefit.

He felt the pull of his erection as he imagined her sprawled out on the king sized bed that still
smelled of their sex touching herself and brining herself to orgasm as he had done only an hour
before. "Should have worn boxers."

"Don't they have a head on the plane?" She giggled.

"Oh baby … you are going to be the death of me." He admitted. "But what a way to go." He
charged and hung up.

He spied the head near his gate. 'What's good for the goose …' he thought. He never would
have guessed that this was the first of many public restroom whack jobs he was in for. It became
part of his travel routine in fact airports became an aphrodisiac for him. She had ignited
something in him that he could not control and if truth were told, he didn't want to control it.
Anything that reminded him of her would elicit an erection that had to be satisfied – and after nine
years, the day of the week, the color of the sky or the wings on his uniform reminded him of her.

For her the Chicago phone call freed her to masturbate imagining his hands on her. Back in the
JAG days she would never allow her fantasies to drift in that direction – she never fantasized
about Harm (perse). Since then she had erased his face from her fantasy but kept his hands and
the feel of his weight on her, his height behind her. She found a dildo that was just his size and
tried to match his rhythm. She gave up her vibrator because it was too mechanical If she were
pushed she would have to admit that it was him she was thinking about - but who would push her
to admit that. But after that call, no fantasy was left unexplored. Her plane didn't leave until the
next morning so she had time to run the entire playbook. She was glad she brought her toys with
her and even more grateful that he left his shirt. His smell was more a more powerful aphrodisiac
than a plate of oysters.

When they silently accepted that their relationship was to be primarily about sex, the floodgates
were opened: no holds were barred from talking to doing. Considering the distance, there was a
lot more talking than doing - but they made up for it and delighted in both. Telecommunication
became the primary means of foreplay – profoundly more arousing than the traditional kind
surprisingly enough. From secured phone lines in private hours, the exchanges were pointedly
provocative. They would 'talk dirty' to each other in ways that forced immediate attention for relief
and gave them fodder for long lonely nights and cues as to what was expected in their next
encounter. It was actually very educational – sexually educational. They could have written a
book or a least a two part article in Cosmo.

The most erotic calls were the two-minute fly bys (as he called them) made in the middle of the
day or night to let the other one know that they were being fantasized about or conjured in some
self-gratifying experience. Those were usually one-sided, frustrating for the receiver but typically
netted a call back when time allowed.

The e-mail was more challenging. They developed code words for things such that anyone
intercepting the mail would ignore as benign – it was anything but. There was always someone
named Richard (aka Dick) and someone else named Kathryn (aka Kathryn -> Kitty -> Kitty Cat ->
Pussy Cat -> Pussy). Harm even claimed that he had gotten a cat named Puss-n-Boots (for her
puss and boobs). They attempted that kind of communication in a 'chat' but typing cryptically in
real time was not as satisfying as live graphic descriptions on the phone – it also freed both
hands and allowed them to move to a more comfortable location.

The DOING was naturally more satisfying. They found a way to be together as often as they
could be given the 6000 miles between them; it occasionally bordered on 'conduct unbecoming'
or at the very least 'dereliction of duty' and rarely lasted more than 16 hours and was on average
20 days apart. Often the flight time was longer than the time on the ground and more often than
not, one would arrive well after midnight and leave before dawn, but they were driven by their
desire and never dissatisfied.

They both agreed the most erotic time was a chance encounter at the Baghdad Airport. Neither
had any idea that the other was going to be there. They were in a meeting with admirals and
generals and were expected to provide sound legal advice on a matter of national security and
military ethics. Who knows if what they said made any sense at all. Her perfume was
intoxicating and distracting. Mac couldn't concentrate on anything other than his thigh that was
sliding up against hers as she pretended to listen. His mind was on her firm hard nipples that he
could see pushing through her uniform and what they would taste and feel like in his mouth. Hers
was on the bulge in his pants. He envied the pen that she bit and she could barely hold herself
back as he sucked on an orange slice from the fruit tray. Neither could repeat what opinion they
each gave, but they supported the other.

When the meeting was over she was soaked clean through her panties and down her inner
thighs. She was sure that everyone in the room could smell her desire. Harm could and was
barely able to walk out of the meeting he was so hard. He pulled her into an office, pushed up
her skirt and ripped her panty hose enough to get to his goal. He nailed her on the desk without
taking the time to drop his pants. It was less than 7 minutes from start to finish. She bit into his
shoulder boards fearing that her shrieks would be overheard. No amount of protocol was going
to quiet her. The fact that they could have been walked in on at any moment only fueled the
excitement. It was explosive and pure carnal pleasure. They were sure that everyone knew
when they boarded the plane for Germany. Harm gave up the first seat to London so he and Mac
could find a place with something horizontal and private so they could continue what they started
in Baghdad. Harm secured one of the pilot's quarters and snuck her in. They had a little over an
hour and made good use of their time.

She called him when she got back to the states and told him that she had decided that she would
no longer wear pantyhose. She was opting for thigh highs and a garter belt. Harm's fantasies
were kicked up a notch and plans were made for their next assignation.

So that was how they lived for two years: chance and meticulously planned assignations, verbal
and physical foreplay and hard core sexual encounters that rivaled the pornos that kept them
occupied between sessions. They attempted to keep a working relationship and a friendship, but
clearly the sexual relationship was too overpowering for them. There was never any talk of love
nor were attempts made to work through the issues that had kept them apart at JAG.

Then came the impromptu 62-hour assignation that left them profoundly changed.

~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~

It had been a much longer separation. It was unbearably longer – two months, thirteen days, and
eighteen hours – not that anyone else was counting. Considering that they had only been
DOING the DO for two years meant that two months and thirteen days was close to 10 percent of
the total. That was too high a percentage. The reason of course for the length of the separation
was Harm's struggle with changing the nature relationship – at least the geography.

T- Minus 6.00 Hours

Mac was totally unaware of his plans until one of those fly-by calls came in that morning - about
24 hours after the last time they spoke (that Thursday morning). Mac was in her office getting
ready for court.

"I dreamt about you last night." His voice was slick, low and husky. "You were in court
presenting your closing argument … and let me just say that your argument wasn't the only thing
that was compelling."

"Oh?" She loved his fantasy life and usually benefited from it.

"Do you own a green lace bra, a thong to match and three inch stiletto heels?" He breathed.

Her face flushed. "I might." She nodded to her petty officer to leave and close the door. "If I did
… ."

"Well … although I was not the only member of the jury … " He continued. "I was the only one
who could see through the uniform of the day."

"Why was that?" She asked not really caring.

"Because I was … shall we say … out of uniform as well."

She stifled a moan, closed her eyes and imagined his scenario: Harm exposed in the member's
box stroking his erection as Mac paraded in front of him. "Was I convincing?"

He didn't need to stifle his groan. "Oh yeah … You won more than the case." His next question
didn't fit the standard scenario. "Is there a chance that you will go long today?"

She wasn't sure if it were a real question or if "long' was meant to imply something else. "No."
She said carefully.

"Plans for this evening?" He asked fearing her answer.

"Working from home this weekend." She admitted.

"Alone?"

"Alone." She confirmed.

"Good." He said easily. "Go straight home." With that the line went dead.

Mac was now not only aroused but intrigued. They didn't make 'dates' for phone sex … that was
the beauty of it. It was always spontaneous and very rewarding. She knew she would not make
it through the day without at least one trip to the head – if only he were there to give her some.
She whimpered imagining his deft tongue on her clit, his lips sucking her dry. The man sure
knew how to use his mouth – in and out of court. She felt her hand slip inside her blouse to twist
her nipple – another place she would prefer his mouth.

"Damn It." She pulled herself back to reality.

There were times when she was annoyed that he could so easily distract her from her duties with
just the soft sound of his voice, it was worse when it was filled erotic descriptions. Her
annoyance was never long lived. She mentally clocked how long until the first break, knowing
how long before she could find real – albeit temporary - relief.

"Colonel." Came the voice of her Petty Officer over the intercom.

"I am on my way." She said after clearing her throat. She gave her nipple a final tweak and was
grateful that she had opted for the green lace bra and thong to match that morning. It always
made her feel sexy in spite of the uniform.

~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~

Court was a bust. It wasn't her day to present and she nearly missed every objection. She went
to the gym at lunch, but spent her time in the sauna – she knew she could be alone in there.
When she had arrived back at court her hair was still damp, and she was far from satisfied.

T- Minus 3.00 Hours


She passed Jack Riley on her way down the aisle without noticing him.

"Mac." He grabbed her hand.

She pulled away harshly. "Jack!"

She had been out to dinner with him two nights before and she took him home. There was no
confusion in Mac's mind what her relationship with Jack would be about; she had a need for
something alive in her bed and someone who lived in her area code. She had long since
discovered that vibrators, dildos, eggs, assorted vegetables and her own skilled hands were only
useful for instant gratification not the type that was distracting for up to 18 hours after. She
needed the kind of encounter that would flash before her eyes and tingle her in places that should
not be tingled in public. The kind that would stop her dead in her tracks when in the middle of a
conversation; make her flush and forget her train of thought and leave a Mona Lisa smile on her
face. She longed for the kind of experience that would leave her raw, aching and moving slowly –
maybe with a new bruise or two. What she needed was a date that would lead to a second date.
She needed a man – not a phone call, not a quick fuck from a long distant lover and nothing that
required batteries. She settled on Jack.

Jack Riley had been asking her for months. He seemed like an interesting enough guy – marine,
drill sergeant, master in hand-to-hand combat (had to know that intrigued her). It had been a long
time since she had 'seen' Harm and there was no plan for the near future. The calls were
becoming more sporadic and work seemed to be his focus as was hers. In fact Mac believed that
he was actually very satisfied with the long distanceness and occasionalness of the relationship
evidenced by the fact that it was getting harder and harder to find a time and place to meet. She
knew that Harm had had his share of women in London; not that she had asked (or cared).
There was no expectation that their relationship would ever be more than it was; there was no
reason to not accept Jack's invitation. So she did.

Jack was a mistake. There was nothing intellectually between them (so dinner was dry and
boring) and they were completely incompatible in bed. She was too voracious; he had no idea
how to satisfy her and didn't take instruction well. She could tell that she scared him and that
amused her. The whole "condom" issue was just adolescent. She had never used protection
with her REAL lover – it wasn't so much that she hoped that he would get her pregnant as much
as she wanted nothing to come between them. She wanted his seamen dripping down her
thighs. With Jack however she wanted nothing exchanged – she didn't even like opening her
mouth to Jack.

Jack scurried home long before dawn with his tail between his legs. She changed her sheets
immediately and tried her best to wash him off. She was fresh from the shower (still hot, wet and
very horny) on her way back to bed with her dildos in hand when her lover called. His voice was
just the ticket. He didn't say anything, but she could tell that he knew about her encounter with
Jack. She would have confirmed it if he had asked – their relationship was not built on fidelity –
but he didn't ask. The mutual masturbation that morning was far and away more stimulating and
satisfying that her encounter with Jack – at least it was for her. She was glad she had changed
the sheets.

On the day in question - two days later - he had tracked her down – to say what exactly? "Jack?"
She prompted at his silence.

"Mac … can we talk?" Jack asked tentatively.

"Nothing to talk about." She said calmly and evenly realizing that he had called her several times
and she had not called back. "Thank you for dinner, but I do not want to pursue a relationship
with you."

Jack was stunned by her directness. He was amazed that she would say something like that with
people around to hear. He had planned his 'attack' in that setting because he assumed that she
would agree just to keep the onlookers from knowing anything about her. He assumed that he
would convince her to give him a second chance and that he would win her over.

"If you will excuse me." She took her place at the prosecutor's table. She found it sad and
pathetic that he would be so desperate to save his ego that he would try such a stunt. He needed
to find a wide-hipped, overweight, career-less woman who would be so grateful to have any man
in her life that she would accept his dispassionate, testosterone-less love making. She wondered
if even a woman like that would have him.

~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~ ~ | ~

Court ended early. She finished up in the office and started her weekend bringing enough work
with her to keep her busy for two days. She wanted to get home and be prepared for the call that
had been in the forefront of her mind all day and she had some errands to do first. She unlocked
her car door and had an uneasy feeling like she was being watched. She shook it off. She
needed to stop and pick up food for the weekend so she drove to her favorite bistro. It was right
next to the dry cleaners and the pharmacy. She had plenty of time so she made those two stops
first. She kept looking over her shoulder. She had a tingling sensation on the back of her neck
and in a place that she knew would be getting more attention in short order. Someone was
watching her. She worried that it might be Jack, but it didn't feel like him. It was too arousing,
erotic, enticing. She pulled her tie loose and opened the first few buttons of her blouse. If
someone were watching she would give him a show. She flashed on Harm – his image was
never far from her thoughts. There were times when he was looking at her, watching her – eating
her with his eyes – that she felt like the most desired woman on the planet. She loved it, she
revealed it in, she longed to see him look at her that way again.

Suddenly – as if her desires were answered – he slammed her up against the car with the entire
weight of his body and kissed her deeply. She felt herself go weak in the knees, her toes curled
and she drenched anew. Her lover was there. Harm had come to her.