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Post by Pisces on Mar 17, 2009 15:09:49 GMT -5
I've decided to post my fic here in installments; three chapters at a time.... feedback always appreciated!! Crossing the LineChapter 1Jackson checked his watch as rain slashed the enormous plate glass window behind him, and he scanned the milling throng in anticipation of her now familiar form…Lisa Reisert… He unconsciously folded and creased the well-handled newspaper he had carried for hours. It had been a long day. The job had taken him to Dallas unexpectedly, and now he was headed back to Miami on the red eye; it was incredible how developments in Lisa’s life affected his own. Previous false alarms aside, this was the night. He could feel it. He would have to make the deal with Lisa on board the airplane, of all places, a setting that had its benefits and certainly its drawbacks. And the flight was sure to be delayed by weather, adding yet another difficulty to the now staggering list of problems he’d encountered in the last week. With Keefe’s never-ending changes in plan and then Lisa’s sudden departure to Texas, Jackson had been in a state of quiet, seething frustration. But now he was getting to it. And about damn time. Eyes roaming the airport crowd, he contemplated meeting Lisa at last. He knew all the boring things about her that made up her daily behavior. But she was still a rough draft, mere sketches on white paper. In an hour’s time, she would be colored, animated, brought to life for him. He would know the sound of her voice, how she smelled, what color her eyes were up close. How she looked when she became upset - because she would be upset. He smiled faintly. His excitement was tempered by the awareness that after tonight, he would have to let go. His smile disappeared. The long, grueling surveillance had taken its toll on him. And yet, his mind ran back over the weeks with a peculiar nostalgia, recalling the few instances when he’d drifted as close to Lisa as he dared without blowing his cover. Like the time he’d inched his car up behind her in traffic, his bumper almost kissing hers, so that he could see her eyes in her rearview mirror. At first he had attributed these lapses in professionalism to his growing impatience to have the job over with. Now he knew better. One rainy night two weeks ago had been his turning point. He’d been waiting on Lisa then too… As the first raindrops spattered on the windshield, Jackson reclined his seat a fraction and flicked on the wipers. Rapidly, the rain increased to a deafening roar on the roof of his rental Lexus. He sighed and relaxed back into fragrant leather to wait. He was good at waiting; had to be after six weeks. The phone, clutched loosely in his hand, remained mute. “Come on…” he whispered. The longer this assignment drew out, the more he had begun to worry about himself. But he had to be ready tonight; his moment to act could come at any moment - and it looked solid this time. Jackson had to be near Lisa Reisert, no matter where she happened to be. Jackson sat in the midst of the nighttime thunderstorm, singing softly to himself. He’d picked up a few strange habits lately - including these little solo performances in his car. A flash of lightning lit the interior, illuminating the mess within: laptop, folders, receipts, cellphone charger wires snaking across the seats, CDs scattered on the passenger side floor; the detritus of weeks of lonely surveillance work. Jackson noted this with some annoyance; normally he kept things less chaotic. He set the wipers to maximum, and still they labored to clear the deluge from his vision. But not before he saw her. Darting from the Lux Atlantic into the storm, a newspaper held over her head in a laughably futile attempt to ward off the driving rain. Jackson looked at the clock on the dashboard - 9:32 PM. Lisa had worked over again. He tapped his cell impatiently against his knee, anxious that the go-ahead call would come while she was in transit. If that happened, it would make things complicated; give him less time to work with her. He watched Lisa duck into her vehicle, saw the headlights of her sensible compact car blink on. He gave her some room before pulling onto the street behind her, chucking his cell phone into the console. “Okay, Leese,” he muttered. “Where are we going tonight?” He wasn’t sure when exactly he had started talking to her. It bothered him that he did and yet he did not feel compelled to stop. He had to talk to someone, after all, or he’d lose his mind. Lisa was the closest thing to a companion he’d had for weeks, other than disembodied voices on the phone. “Don’t go home, please. Not again,” he pleaded, when her turn signal flashed. She was a flawless driver; always signaling, letting people in front of her with a wave. A good Samaritan. Lisa’s car turned, and Jackson let loose a groan of frustration. It was Saturday night, but her route had every appearance of taking her straight home yet again. He shook his head. Ten minutes later, her car pulled into the cluster of condos where she lived, and he eased into his usual spot - a good vantage point for the front of her home but not too close. He threw the car into park and turned to the wireless laptop on the seat beside him, pulling the screen into better view. No messages. The call would come any time now, one way or the other. Keefe had boarded his private jet with his family not a half hour before, and if it was confirmed that they were headed for Miami, Jackson would meet Lisa tonight. The rain drummed the roof monotonously as Jackson tried to stretch his arms and legs as best he could in the confines of the vehicle. He needed to go for a run; he had spent too much time sitting on his ass for this job, and his stomach growled insistently. He’d had no time to eat since morning, what with Keefe’s impending flight being delayed all day for God knew what reason. The phone chirped. Jackson grabbed it eagerly, adrenaline surging. “Yeah,” he answered. Desperate to hear his contact, he jammed a knuckle against his other ear to counter the relentless din of the rain. “What the hell is that?” the voice said suspiciously. “It’s f*cking raining. This is Florida, remember? I’m right in the middle of a thunderstorm,” Jackson said, annoyed that he was forced to explain. “Oh. Well, Keefe’s not coming to you tonight. Headed for San Fran is the word we’re getting.” Jackson’s jaw tightened. Another false alarm. Third one now. “All right,” he said, disguising his frustration. “So you get to enjoy the weather down there for a while longer.” A chuckle. Jackson laughed sardonically, his tone lost on the other man. “Yeah. Keep me posted, all right?” He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the seat beside him. “f*ck,” he spat. Leaning an elbow on the door frame, he eyed Lisa’s condo through the trickling rain on his window. He was off the hook for the night, and probably the next few days. How long was this going to drag out? Well, first and foremost, he needed to eat. He reached for the ignition and paused, fingers gripping the key but not turning it. Lisa was coming back out of the condo. Jackson sat up straighter in his seat. As Lisa ran to her car and dove inside, he noted her more casual attire. He raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “Going back out, huh, Leese?” he murmured. He started his car. Waited until she had exited the complex before resuming his slow, distanced pursuit of her. Now it was getting interesting. They stopped at a red light, and Jackson furrowed his brows. What am I doing? He had no need to follow Lisa Reisert any longer tonight - his call had come. He sat dumbstruck for a moment and almost laughed at himself. He had followed Lisa for so long that it had become second nature; where she went, he followed. But right now it was unnecessary. He could go back to his hotel and have a long-awaited dinner. Wait for the rain to stop, and go for a late run on the beach. Then go to bed, keeping his phone close at hand of course. But for now, he was free. The light turned green. Lisa moved on. Jackson hesitated, glancing into his rearview mirror…no one behind him to hurry his decision. His finger rested on the underside of his turn signal without conviction, applying insincere pressure. He should turn, go back to the hotel and give himself a break. He needed it. His eyes fixed on Lisa’s taillights as her car left him behind, carrying her toward her night out. Jackson’s hand dropped from the turn signal. He accelerated smoothly after her. Don’t do this, he cautioned himself. You’re over the line. Go back to the hotel. He resisted this rationale with a credible argument to himself. I’ll just see where she’s going first. Jackson’s instinct for levelheaded professionalism was appalled at this decision, and he gripped the steering wheel harder. He punched a CD into the stereo to distract himself; turned it up. Eyes on his quarry, he noticed peripherally that the rain was slackening. That was the thing about thunderstorms in Miami, he’d learned. They were impressively violent but ended quickly. Lisa’s car nosed into a space along the sidewalk that ran the length of the beach, just across from the trendy area that boasted artsy little galleries, coffee shops, and yuppie bars. Jackson slowed to a crawl, waiting for her to get out before he parked. She dashed across the street to a corner café, the sort of place with an outdoor bistro, which was currently sodden and deserted. Once Lisa had vanished inside the café, Jackson cruised a short distance down the boulevard until he sighted an empty parking spot. He pulled into it and snapped off the ignition. Gathering his cell and some folders, he rummaged in the glove box for his reading glasses. They weren’t much in the way of going incognito, but they were all he had with him. Wait a minute. Jackson froze, one hand full of folders, the other resting on the door handle. There was no reason to go inside. None at all…except that he wanted to. He looked over his shoulder at the café down the street. “sh*t,” he muttered. Don’t do this, he told himself again. He sat back and put the folders down on the seat slowly, eyes locked on the café in his rearview mirror. The drive to get in there - to see her - was unsettlingly powerful. Jackson shut his eyes for a moment and forced himself to think logically. Somewhere, he’d crossed a line. This wasn’t surveillance, it was voyeurism. He should remove himself from this damn job right now and hand it over to someone else. The rain tapered off to intermittent droplets; the silence within his vehicle added to his unrest. He had heard of this happening, on rare occasions, to people who surveilled the same subject for extended periods. They became fixated - would begin to watch the subject even when the job no longer required it. Like now. He rubbed his hand over his eyes and forehead. He was too into this one. It had gone on too long. And now he couldn’t stop watching her. This was dangerous; the potential for big-time f*ck-up written all over it. Clearly, the appropriate action to take was to cancel his involvement in the Keefe job. There was time. Jackson shook his head at himself. He had never backed down from any job, and he was not about to abandon this one, not for a reason like this. For f*ck’s sake, this was the easiest part of the entire operation. Besides, he could get a handle on his…interest. Again his eyes drifted to the café in his mirror. I’ll just go in and have a drink. Sit in a corner for a few minutes, make sure it’s nothing crucial, he thought. That’s all. In his work experience, he had seen the most innocuous details develop into issues of incredible magnitude enough times to know that you gathered as much information as possible. He was known for his thoroughness. And he trusted his own judgment. With this permission from himself he immediately felt better, and blew out a relieved breath. Collecting his props once again, he glanced at himself in the mirror. He took a moment to dampen his hair with what was left in his bottle of Dasani water and smooth it back from his face. He put on his glasses. He could do little else, but he had to make some attempt to change his appearance. He drew in a deep breath and stepped from his car.
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Post by Pisces on Mar 17, 2009 15:10:47 GMT -5
Chapter 2
The humid warmth outside Jackson’s vehicle was as smothering as if someone had put a stifling blanket over his face, and his glasses fogged within seconds. Oh, nice. Irritated, he took them off. He’d put them back on once he was inside where it was cooler.
He strode across the street, folders under one arm, inhaling the oddly stimulating smell of damp, hot asphalt. Steam rose from the pavement in low wisps that undulated as cars passed. Excitement mounted in him as he reached the sidewalk and started toward the café, classic rock drifting to his ears as he neared it. He glanced at the sign over the door - Carmelita’s. Outside the café, a waitress was drying the bistro chairs with a green towel. She smiled at him. Jackson returned the smile and went inside.
The place was about as he had expected, a coffee shop-bar-restaurant hybrid that wanted to please everyone. The lighting was low. Jackson declined to sit at the conspicuous bar, opting for a small two-seater booth in a back corner that would give him a good view of the whole café. Walking to it, he kept his eyes from roaming, in case he should pass close by Lisa. This was the riskiest part, and his pulse quickened until he seated himself and allowed himself to survey the room.
Initially, he did not see her. Unperturbed, he opened a few folders on the small cherry wood table and put his glasses back on. Set his cell phone to vibrate, since he would never hear its ring over the loud music. And at last began a discreet scan of the room.
The bar was the most populated area, filled shoulder-to-shoulder with an assembly of youngish patrons. Lisa was not amongst them, however, so Jackson’s eye proceeded to the tables and booths.
And found her. Lisa was not thirty feet away, another young woman across the table from her. Both were sideways to him, enabling him to observe their body language easily. Lisa was listening intently and nodding as her friend talked; it appeared the friend was telling a story. A long one.
Jackson leaned back in his booth, directing his attention to his “work” occasionally. People, women especially, seemed to sense when they were being stared at, and he did not want to set off either woman’s creep radar. He glanced at Lisa. Her hair was pulled back in some sort of clip, exposing the sides of her face. Perfect. He would almost be able to lip-read her, if the angle were a little better.
Another Saturday night, and Lisa was out with a girlfriend. Most times, she was home alone. Jackson had come to the gradual realization that, unless she were somehow carrying on a long-distance relationship, Lisa had no boyfriend. It hardly seemed possible. Yet it pleased him.
A waitress approached Lisa’s table, her back to Jackson. He focused sharply as Lisa turned more in his direction, facing the waitress. “Um, yeah, I’ll have a Sea Breeze,” Lisa’s smiling lips said, and Jackson dropped his gaze to his table again to avoid any inadvertent eye contact with her. A Sea Breeze again. Third time in as many weeks.
He picked up a pen and began writing mindlessly down the margin of one of his printouts to maintain his pretense of an overworked techie, student, whatever.
A waitress approached him at last. “Wow,” the girl said, eyes widening at the spread of papers and folders across the table. “You must be a real workaholic!”
You have no idea. Jackson smiled. “Don’t ever work on salary if you can help it,” he said.
“Looks like good advice,” the waitress said, pulling her notepad from her apron. “But just think, one day you’ll probably run the company,” she reassured him, pen poised. “What’ll you have?”
“A Long Island Iced Tea.”
“Anything to eat?” the waitress asked.
Jackson glanced at Lisa’s table. Neither she nor her friend had ordered any food. She might have only stopped in for a drink and could leave at any time. He was not about to order a plate of something he would have to abandon to follow her out. “No, not just yet. Maybe later,” he said politely, though his pinched stomach grumbled.
The waitress left, and Jackson turned back to Lisa. She was making sympathetic faces to her friend, who was becoming increasingly animated in her storytelling. Neither of them were smiling or laughing as one would expect two young women having drinks to be; it seemed Lisa’s role tonight was that of supportive shoulder.
Jackson leaned back in his booth again, envisioning Lisa coming home from work to find a distressed message from this friend - a break-up, perhaps, or some other melodrama that needed to be rehashed over drinks. And Lisa, trusty friend and good listener, had rushed to her aid. More proof that she had no personal life of her own.
His drink arrived and he started on it, surreptitiously watching Lisa. He wished her friend would shut up. He had come to watch Lisa; to glean what he could about her from this little excursion, and so far she had done nothing but nod and sip her Sea Breeze.
But he was not disappointed. Just being in the same room as his target without her knowledge, observing her so closely, was enough to send a low but constant buzz of excitement through him. This was the highlight of his week.
That’s f*cking pathetic, he thought uncomfortably. Looking down, he saw he had written this thought out on paper, and he scribbled through it quickly.
Whoa, whoa…what’s this? A man had approached Lisa’s table, drink in hand, grinning down at her. He said something Jackson could not make out, and Lisa smiled up at him. Laughed. Despite the laugh, Jackson noticed her unease in the way she brushed nonexistent loose hair back behind her ears repeatedly.
Jackson narrowed his eyes and removed his glasses even though the prescription in them was very light; wanting to see the scene as clearly as possible. Lisa could not possibly be shy, but she was plainly uncomfortable with this man. The guy was tall, tan, athletic looking; clad in the polo shirt, khaki shorts and flip-flops of the standard beach yuppie. Should be her type.
Something encouraged the guy, and he pulled out a chair at their table. Lisa’s friend did not seem to mind the interruption, but Lisa herself looked less than thrilled, though her smile hung on gamely.
Jackson bordered on staring openly at their table and knew it, but Lisa was entirely too distracted to notice him in his corner. He gulped the rest of his drink and rolled his pen tightly in his fingers, watching. Did she know this guy? Or was he a stranger to her?
Lisa said something that made the guy laugh, loud enough that Jackson could hear him above ELO’s “Sweet Talkin’ Woman” blaring from the bar. His jaw tightened. The guy was probably half-drunk, and obnoxious. Lisa had begun to lean away from him, and her smile was fading.
Edgy, Jackson repositioned himself in his booth, annoyed that the guy was too dumb to pick up on what he himself could see from across the room. She’s not interested, sh*tface, he thought, his own level of hostility catching him off guard. Just then he saw that Lisa’s friend was looking directly at him in his corner, and he tore his eyes from their table.
He should leave. Now. What the f*ck was wrong with him? He started to stuff a few pages back into their folders as if picking up to go, but it was half-hearted; he could not ditch his post now. The scene was far too irresistible. This was the most interesting thing that had happened to Lisa for well over a month. He stopped shuffling his papers and ventured another glance at her. She had folded her arms over her chest, just as the arsehole laughed boisterously again.
His view was suddenly blocked. A girl had slid into his booth across the table from him, grinning broadly. “Hi!” she said brightly.
Jackson stared blankly at her for a moment. “Uh…hi,” he said, feeling ambushed. The girl was young, probably college aged, with wild, curly hair. And looked a few drinks past her bedtime.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she barged ahead. “You looked so lonely over here in the corner by yourself.”
Jackson tried to peer around the girl’s head, but her hair had such volume that it literally obscured his view of Lisa’s table. He forced a smile and injected smoothness into his voice. “Well, that’s very thoughtful of you. But…”
“How can you concentrate?” the girl asked, peering closely at him in puzzlement.
“What?” Jackson asked distractedly.
“How can you concentrate?” the girl repeated more loudly, hiking up her banana yellow tube top. “I mean, whatever you’re reading,” she gestured to his papers. “How can you work in a place like this?” She flapped a hand toward the bar.
Jackson was already tired of her. “It’s really not that difficult. What’s your name?” he asked.
The girl grinned, showing a row of laser-whitened, expensive teeth. “Crystal.”
“Listen…Crystal,” Jackson said, smiling to soften the blow, “I really need to get this work done tonight. I’m sorry.”
“That’s ok. It doesn’t bother me at all,” she said, her fingers exploring the edges of one his folders. “Go ahead.”
Jackson sighed inwardly. He slid over in his booth seat until his shoulder bumped the wall, and looked past Crystal, resuming his observation of Lisa.
“I thought you looked really lonely,” Crystal said. “I’ve been watching you all night.”
“I’ve only been here twenty minutes.”
Crystal laughed riotously. Jackson ignored her, eyes fixed on Lisa, who was shaking her head at arsehole - refusing him something.
“You have the prettiest eyes,” Crystal said unabashedly. “I bet they get you in all kinds of trouble.”
Have another drink, Crystal. Jackson picked up his glasses from the table and put them back on.
Lisa was shaking her head again, and the guy was getting up from her table with a look of defeat.
Watching the guy retreat to the bar, Jackson relaxed, unaware that he’d been tense. Lisa glanced around the room, and Jackson looked away quickly, dodging her eyes. She appeared relieved that the man had left, but her friend looked at her sadly, disapproval visible in her features, and said something to her. Lisa responded with a casual shrug.
“Boy, you don’t have much to say, do you?” Crystal said, jolting Jackson out of his vigil.
She was a nuisance, and it was an effort to hide his growing irritation. “I told you. I’m here to work, Crystal. If you’re looking for someone to buy your drinks for you, I’m not your guy.” He’d tried to be diplomatic and honest, but his temper leaked into his voice.
The effect was immediate. Crystal’s face contorted in offended fury. “I was going to buy you one. arsehole,” she spewed.
Uh-oh.
Crystal picked up his glass, insult glittering in her eyes. Rattling the ice and water left in it, she plucked the lemon from the edge of the glass and tossed it, with a sidelong flick of her wrist, onto the table. Then upended the glass onto his folders with deliberate slowness, never taking her eyes from his. Without another word, she slid out of his booth and walked away.
Jackson stared at the wet mess before him, anger mixing with amusement. Well, at least she’d been quiet about it. For a terrible second, as she’d picked up his glass, he’d thought she would throw the ice water in his face; causing attention to be drawn to his corner.
As water from the puddle on the table began to run off the edge and patter onto his thigh, his eyes flicked towards Lisa. Oblivious…good. Another classic sign of obsession, he reflected; that he would pass up the chance of an easy lay with Crystal merely to eyeball Lisa Reisert some more.
“Oh, you poor thing! Did she dump that on you?” his waitress said, seeing him sitting at his dripping table. She produced a dishrag and began to immediately mop up the water and ice.
Jackson smirked. “Guess I wasn’t her type.”
“Oh, no, it’s all over your…stuff!” the waitress exclaimed in a hushed voice, not wanting to draw attention to his predicament. Jackson sent her a silent thanks.
He picked up the pile of sopping folders, water dripping from them. “Do me a favor. Throw this away, would you? It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
The waitress took the files hesitantly. “Are you sure?”
Jackson picked up the lemon wedge from the table and set it on top of the folders in her hands. He smiled. “I’m sure.” His papers were nothing more than printouts of various internet sites; dummy sheets he had put into folders for public occasions like this. His real work documents had been shredded weeks before, their contents memorized and secure in his memory.
“Okay.” She turned to go, grabbing his glass deftly between two fingers. “How about I bring you another of these?”
Jackson considered, his eyes playing over Lisa’s form.
He turned back to the waitress. “Uh, yeah, thanks. But…could I have something else?”
“Sure! What can I get you?”
Jackson smiled. “A Lusty Lisa.”
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Post by Pisces on Mar 17, 2009 15:12:39 GMT -5
Chapter 3
Jackson’s Lusty Lisa arrived. Before drinking, he raised his glass to Lisa in an inconspicuous toast. Here’s to you, Leese. For giving both of us a night out. He bolted it in two swallows.
The dampness on his leg was becoming uncomfortable, though the chill of the ice water had faded. He’d have to deal with it, or risk leaving the place looking like he’d pissed on himself. Verifying that Lisa was still entrapped in conversation with her friend, he slid out of his seat and made a sharp left - the restrooms being almost directly behind his booth.
In the relative quiet of the men’s room Jackson contemplated the failure he’d witnessed at Lisa’s table. The guy from the bar had completely turned Lisa off, and this made Jackson eager to attempt his own line of attack. Lisa would require a gentle approach in the beginning; the same sort of non-threatening smoothness that he happened to possess. After that, of course, his behavior would matter far less; hers would take center stage. The entire operation hinged on Lisa, but it was getting harder for him to curb his impatience to meet her.
Jackson tore a handful of brown paper towels from the dispenser and pressed them to his damp thigh. It didn’t help much. Checking his reflection in the streaky mirror, he saw that his hair had dried and was falling forward in its more usual manner. He stuck his hand under the faucet and swiped it through his hair again, hoping it would stay back a while longer this time.
He turned to go. He tugged the door handle, took two steps out of the room, and narrowly missed colliding with a woman in the hallway heading toward the ladies’ room. His arm grazed hers the very instant he recognized her.
Lisa.
As if in slow motion, he saw her turning toward him in mid-stride, her auburn hair tossing back over her shoulder; saw her eyes, beneath downcast lashes, begin their ascent to his face. In terrible apprehension, he realized she was going to apologize to him, initiating their first contact. He could not let it happen; their relationship was to be on his terms only.
Turning his face away as if afflicted with a mortal shyness, he muttered an apology and hurried on. Goddamn, that was close. He felt like a coward, and she probably thought he was, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was that he had almost blown his cover tonight for no good reason. That’s it… time to go. He’d been lucky so far that his close calls had done no real damage, but luck didn’t last. Reprimanding himself, he quickly moved toward the bar, hoping to pay and be gone before Lisa came out of the restroom.
His waitress was behind the bar, making a Pina Colada. Jackson had to squeeze between people to reach her, and she smiled at his approach. “How was that Lusty Lisa?”
Jackson grinned. “Stronger than I expected.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket; extracted enough money to pay for his drinks and give her a generous tip. At that moment, over and between heads on the opposite side of the bar, he saw Lisa returning to her table. So much for getting out of the building before she came back.
The waitress laughed. “You don’t like strong women?”
Jackson considered. He did like strong women, if the source of that strength was a naturally forceful personality, or life experience. Not when it came from their friends, therapists, or self-help books that encouraged women to slip into strength and flaunt it as if it were a trendy outfit, whether it fit them or not. Sincerity of character carried much more weight with Jackson.
His silence drew the waitress’s eye from the drink she was topping off. “Do I take that as a ‘no’?”
Jackson glanced at Lisa. She was picking up her purse, and hugging her friend over the table. Leaving already.
“No, I wouldn’t take it as a ‘no’,” he said. Leaning closer on the bar, he slid the cash over the lacquered surface toward the waitress. “It’s just not my number one priority.”
“And what would that be?” she said, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously.
He glanced at the nametag on her chest, then met her eyes. “Honesty.” He paused, giving her he full force of his gaze. “Thanks, Vicky.”
“Sure,” she said, a light flush appearing in her face.
Jackson made his way around the opposite side of the bar from Lisa, watching her as she weaved through the increasing crowd. He moved in tandem with her, slowing when she slowed, keeping his eye on her.
She was stopped by a small group bottlenecked in the aisle, and waited politely. Jackson paused as well, not wanting to get ahead of her. To shadow her every move was a primeval dance, a tango of hunter and hunted that electrified every sense. His mind flashed back to the near-collision in the hallway a few minutes before, the slippery thrill of it increasing the buzz he already felt.
Lisa jolted back; someone had thrown an arm out in front of her, impeding her progress. Jackson craned over heads to see that arsehole was making one last attempt at getting Lisa’s number. His tanned face reddened as she shook her head again, but he raised his arm like a toll booth gate and let her pass beneath, eliciting laughter from his friends.
Lisa picked up the pace after that, fairly dashing for the exit. Trailing her steadily, Jackson shot a last glance at arsehole. The guy was staring after Lisa, enduring howls and jeers from his buddies. One pushed his shoulder, goading him into pursuing her. Seeing this, Jackson slowed his steps, preparing to alter his course.
arsehole seemed to reach some internal tipping point as he watched Lisa walk across the street outside, and suddenly abandoned his bar stool, pulling on his baseball cap with a savage twist. Going after her.
Jackson, jaw set, advanced in his direction at once. The guy swaggered to the café’s entrance and shoved the door open, then paused briefly on the sidewalk. A dozen or so paces behind him, Jackson saw through the front windows that Lisa’s car was already pulling out of its space. Too late, arsehole.
But stoked with beer and jeers, arsehole was in no mood to give up. He fumbled in his khaki shorts for his keys.
Unbelievable…Jackson blew out a sharp, aggravated breath, shook his head, and walked faster, shoving his way through people. He exited as arsehole was letting himself into his car, one of those tiny street racers that looked like shopping carts to Jackson, with their lawnmower wheels and oversized spoilers. Jackson jogged to his Lexus and jumped in, just as he heard the whine of the other car coming to life.
He took off his glasses and threw them with a clatter onto the laptop beside him, reversing his car quickly.
arsehole missed a gear and the little car bucked, then took off. Jackson sped after him, his eyes searching farther up the road to find the taillights of Lisa’s car not a quarter mile ahead.
What did this guy think he was doing? Snubbed and drunk, he might do anything if he managed to follow her home. If something happened to Lisa Reisert, it would throw the entire operation into jeopardy. Tonight, Lisa was under his protection, though she would never know it. Don’t thank me now, Leese…
Jackson moved into the right lane, his mind racing. He gunned the Lexus until he was alongside arsehole’s car, then pushed it even harder, passing him.
At the next light, the two lanes would narrow to one, the right hand lane becoming a turn-only. The intersection hurtled toward him, and he pressed the gas to the floor, eyes fixed on Lisa’s car two blocks ahead.
Flying to the intersection, he jerked the wheel, slicing into the left lane in front of arsehole just as they passed beneath the traffic light, sending puddles cascading through the air. He’d almost clipped the other car, saw it swerve violently. There was a furious, prolonged blare from the horn.
Jackson eased his foot off the gas. His eyes alternated between Lisa’s taillights ahead, and the enraged man behind, tailgating him.
He slowed further.
More honking. The little go-cart rode his bumper so close Jackson could no longer see its headlights in his mirror.
He slowed still more, resting his foot on the brake. The car behind him nosed down sharply, almost hitting him.
“Come on, Leese, get a move on,” Jackson coaxed, watching her as she drew farther away. Oblivious to the road rage situation several blocks behind her, she cruised along leisurely.
arsehole made a sudden move to pass on the wrong side of the road, but Jackson anticipated this and forced the Lexus into his path again, prompting more racket from the little car’s shrill horn. In his mirror, he could see the guy hammering his steering wheel like a baby throwing a tantrum, and he laughed. He knew the guy was screaming at him.
Another pass attempt. Jackson cut him off yet again. He turned up the volume on his stereo to drown out the now endless blare issuing from the car behind him. And, with relief and a sense of pride, watched as Lisa’s car disappeared from view. arsehole had now lost her. Jackson tapped his brakes again, giving Lisa a little extra space.
Time to wrap this up. Seeing the large semicircular drive of a towering office building just ahead, he pulled into it. He knew that by now, the hothead behind him was enraged enough to have forgotten his original intention in leaving the bar. Coasting to a stop, Jackson opened the console between seats, resting confident fingers on the deadly solidity of the Glock within. Shooting was not his strong suit, but at close range anyone was a marksman. The corners of his lips curved in a subtle smile.
The little car stopped abruptly behind him, brakes shrieking. Jackson rolled his window down even before the guy had gotten out of his car. He tilted his head and watched in the side mirror as his opponent emerged with a yell.
“What the f*ck is your problem, man?!” The guy showed no caution whatsoever as he approached, too pumped up to consider the mistake.
Jackson’s eyes darted over his form quickly, confirming that he carried no weapon. He relaxed indolently in his seat, and turned his stereo back down.
The guy pounded a fist on the trunk of Jackson’s car, working his way toward the window. “I’m gonna f*ck you up, arsehole! Get outta that piece of sh*t, you little f*g**t!”
Jackson waited. The guy reached his window, arms bowed out from his sides, ready to start swinging. “I said get outta that car!” His eyes were bloodshot and sweat beaded his face. He paused, taking in Jackson’s cool demeanor, his neutral expression. This threw him off briefly, expecting to encounter rage matching his own.
“Do you know her?” Jackson asked calmly.
The expression on the guy’s face changed so suddenly it was comical. “Huh?” he said, leaning forward slightly, eyebrows raised.
“Do you know her?” Jackson repeated, icy eyes boring into the other man’s.
“Know who?”
“The woman you were trying to follow home,” Jackson said.
The guy remained bent at the waist, sweat rolling down his cheeks from the humidity, squinting in confusion at the interrogation. “You know you almost wrecked my car? I oughta kick your goddamn ass!” He moved toward the window.
Jackson raised the Glock above his lap, pointing it directly at him.
arsehole froze, and his arms began to drift upwards as if suddenly filled with helium. “Oh. sh*t.”
Jackson waited. After a few seconds, the man’s eyes moved from the gun to Jackson’s face. No rage now, only a dawning terror.
“What’s her name?” Jackson asked.
“Lisa,” the guy said, in a slightly strangled voice, keeping his hands up as if expecting to be arrested.
“What’s her last name?”
“Umm…I don’t…she didn’t…”
“So you don’t know her.” Jackson stated. “Is that right?”
The guy licked his lips, mouth gone dry. “Hey man, if that’s your ex or something, I..”
Jackson opened his mouth slightly to speak; raised the gun a fraction. The man’s defensive babble cut off.
“She’s a Federal witness,” Jackson said. He let this penetrate the man’s inebriated brain for a moment.
Eyes darting from Jackson’s face to the interior of his car, the guy observed the laptop, papers, and other clutter. He appeared to deflate; it was all coming together for him now; the implications sinking in. “No sh*t.”
“No sh*t,” Jackson echoed. “So I have to know why you were stalking her.”
The ugly word hung in the air, and Jackson took an ironic pleasure in the guilt suffusing the other man’s face.
“Stalking…no. No! I just met her…” He hung his head. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
Jackson ignored this. “Why were you following her?”
The guy put a hand over his face in distress, then made a limp gesture toward the direction Lisa had gone. “I don’t know. I was gonna flatten her tires or something. Nothing bad…” he gave a cringing shrug.
Jackson nodded, lowered the gun. “Just your typical vandalism…a little property damage? That’s all?” he sneered. Now that the situation was controlled, his own reaction began to filter through. Looking at the sweaty, embarrassed and fearful man anxious for escape, Jackson felt an outpouring of contempt. “This job has taken up my life for weeks. And along comes a jackass like you to make it even more complicated,” he said with derisive smoothness.
Face slack, the guy took a step back from Jackson’s car. “I’m sorry.” His apology was so meek, so genuine it would have been funny, had Jackson been in the mood to laugh.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jackson said sarcastically, turning away. “Why don’t you do one smart thing tonight…go home.”
“Yessir. I’m sorry.”
Jackson watched in his rearview mirror as the loser fled to his vehicle, and backed out of the drive onto the street. A sharp squeal of tires broadcast his swift departure. He was so scared and drunk, it would be hours, or even tomorrow, before he would begin to question the incident in his mind.
Now that the confrontation was over, Jackson suffered the letdown of spent adrenaline, but he felt vindicated for his decision to stick by Lisa. Had he gone back to his hotel earlier, Lisa would have been followed home by the drunken jerk, and though he might have done no more than flatten her tires or key her car; in retrospect there was no way to be sure. Jackson did not want to think about what would have happened to the operation if Lisa had ended up in the hospital, missing, or dead. The job would have been essentially over; his reputation in tatters.
Pondering this, Jackson turned and watched the colossal fountain between the main road and the drive he was parked on. He suddenly felt how utterly tired he was. A strong breeze blew from the Atlantic, hissing through the professionally uplit palms and carrying a fine, cool spray from the fountain to his car, misting his face through his open window.
He closed his eyes at the soothing sensation…and in his mind’s eye saw Lisa sitting at the table, smoothing her hair nervously with timid fingers as she tried to discourage her unwanted guest. The fake smile, so transparent to Jackson from across the room; almost painful to watch. “Smile… like you mean it…” Jackson sang quietly, as another cool mist drifted across his face.
He couldn’t sit here all night. Rousing himself, he put the Lexus in motion, pulling out onto the boulevard. Checking the time, he saw that it was too late to get any room service at his hotel now. He’d have to swing through the taco place and pick up a couple of burritos. But first, he had another stop to make.
Lisa’s street…by now Jackson knew every dip in the pavement, every tree. The black and white cat was sitting under her neighbor’s car, ready to begin its nightly patrol. Lisa’s car was in its proper place and unmolested. As for Lisa herself…what she did in the privacy of her home was a mystery. But that would soon change.
Lisa was home. Jackson drove on, at last releasing himself from duty for the night.
“ ’night, Leese,” he whispered, exhausted. “See you tomorrow.”
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Post by zagethe on Mar 23, 2009 0:27:52 GMT -5
I read this story on another site and loved it so I thought i would comment. Well done.
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Post by razzthekid on Mar 23, 2009 18:12:10 GMT -5
I just read the first chapter and i love it.
Gotta go now but i can't wait to read the rest of it! Do you write for a living or are you doing a course on writing? I was thinking about doing an online course in creative writing.
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Post by rukia888 on Mar 23, 2009 22:08:33 GMT -5
I read this over at fanfiction.net a looong while back ago when I first got into the Jackson/Lisa ship. It was one of the first J/L fanfics that I read, and quite honestly, it's still one of the best out there. It got me really hooked with the fandom. I really liked the plot that you developed along with the original characters that you created. It was complex yet plausible. Will you be writing any more, new J/L fanfics? I hope you haven't gotten bored of this ship.
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Post by Pisces on Mar 25, 2009 15:52:02 GMT -5
LOL- neither. I just write. I have no idea what I'm doing when I do it - I just write what sounds right and feels right. Oh, no worries there! I am just as into Jackson as I have ever been - I'm not easily swayed by the advent of other, newer fandoms. Jack just has something none of the others do... at least to me. He's more a man, to my mind. As far as anything new, that's always a possibility. In a way, I'm testing interest by reposting CTL here.... trying to see if there is anyone out there who still reads the fandom! I have to have reaction when I post something or I get easily discouraged. The reaction at ff.net to CTL was phenomenal and something I will likely never encounter again in posting a fic, lol. Timing is everything! But I will for sure put the rest of CTL up here.
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Post by Pisces on Mar 25, 2009 15:57:41 GMT -5
Chapter 4
At last Jackson glimpsed Lisa, stepping smartly along in low heels through the airport, cell phone buried in soft waves of auburn hair. In an instant, his pulse quickened. He got up from his chair gratefully, stretching the cramped muscles in his legs, his eyes tracking Lisa through the crowd as she headed toward the long lines for their flight. Starting in her direction, Jackson decided to get in a line next to hers. With a glance upward at the flight board, he saw that their plane was now delayed.
The thrill of opportunity washed over him as he neared Lisa and saw that there was no one directly behind her in line. He had not planned to speak with her before being seated next to her on the plane. There was no need to. Flashing dear old Dad’s wallet would be enough, and he was confident in his ability to persuade. Approaching her now would jeopardize his position if the operation was postponed again - not impossible, even at this late hour. Plans changed, itineraries were scrapped, and things went back to square one. Without absolute confirmation, speaking to Lisa was an unnecessary risk.
But instinct provided him with all the confirmation he needed. This was the night. No more f*cking around. And Lisa might tolerate the deal from him better if they had some previous conversation behind them; be less likely to freak out and make some sort of scene on the plane.
He had waited long enough. After eight weeks of discipline, he deserved this. Eyes locked on the back of her head, Jackson unobtrusively stepped into line just behind her.
Unfolding his newspaper, he glanced down at her legs. Followed their shapely lines up to her skirt, and to her rear end. Nice. With patience, he turned his eyes back to his paper. His chance would come any minute now.
He hadn’t been this keyed up since he’d first seen the interior of Lisa’s condo…
Jackson paced the balcony of his fourth-floor hotel room, glancing back inside now and then at the laptop he’d left open on the dresser. The afternoon was getting late, the hotel’s shadow stretching farther across the beach. He leaned on the railing of the balcony, squinting at the horizon. He was enjoying his “day off” from tailing Lisa, although he knew he would be across the street from the Lux Atlantic when she left work that night. Keefe was tied up in San Francisco for two days, but Jackson had no intention of slacking off.
That morning, he had put in a call to technical support and requested interior surveillance capabilities at Lisa’s condo.
“I need a nanny cam at 9261 Sandpiper Drive,” Jackson had said.
The tech had laughed at this description. “Which room?” A pause. “Or do you need more than one?” A hint of salaciousness in his tone.
Jackson chewed his bottom lip, his eyes drifting out the sliding glass door to the sun rising over the Atlantic. No one would question his decision; this was his job to manage. But, in his own estimation, if he asked for a camera to be placed in Lisa’s bedroom, he would have officially lowered himself to scumbag. No better than the pieces of sh*t who put mirrors on their shoes to see up girls’ skirts in public.
He cleared his throat. “No. Just one. The living area.” Swallowing a slug of coffee did little to ease the disturbing twinge of regret.
“Okay. Is the residence clear right now?”
“Not yet, but it should be by noon. I’ll call you,” Jackson had said.
Now, hours later, he waited for word of the installation, and watched tourists straggling back to the hotel. They trekked across the sand in anticipation of dinners out, skin burned to the shade of raw steak. Jackson’s eyes moved from the beach to the sky. A huge thunderhead lurked far out at sea, silent lightning forking down to meet the ocean.
The outing to Carmelita’s the night before - and the ensuing chase and confrontation with arsehole - was making him damned paranoid about this job. There was no such thing as too much surveillance. Knowing how Lisa functioned at home might not be any real help, but it certainly would do no harm.
Just keep telling yourself that… He leaned on the balcony railing again to study the other hotel guests spread out around the turquoise swimming pool below. Jackson had never once visited the pool area himself, though he had been ensconced in his room since the end of June - long enough to have noticed the change in the hotel’s demographics. As the summer began to wind down, the lounge chairs that had been occupied previously by attractive, golden-skinned young women were more likely to be stretching under the weight of Uncle Joe from New Jersey. Jackson looked over his balcony less and less.
He heard his cell ring, and went back inside, grabbing it. “Yeah,” he answered, his other hand stroking the laptop to awaken the screen.
“You’re up and running,” the tech said. He instructed Jackson where to locate the live feed.
Jackson found it quickly, and held his breath as he waited for the web cam image to load. He maximized the window, and the living area of Lisa’s condo slowly came into view. It was color, and it was sharp. Jackson whistled. “Beautiful,” he said softy.
“You have some zoom capability. Use the toggle there on the left,” guided the tech.
Jackson did so, zooming in slightly toward the kitchen in the background. “That’s great. I appreciate it,” he said, keeping his tone neutral.
“No problem. Do you have a removal date for it?”
“No. Nothing firm,” Jackson said.
After the call ended, he put the cell down and stood looking at the window into Lisa’s life. Leaning close, he studied her home intently. It was tidy and tastefully decorated with what appeared to be quality furniture. He expected as much. There were two books on the coffee table in front of her sofa, and he was interested to know what they were, but the camera could not zoom nearly that close.
Mildly disappointed, he leaned back. An unexpected spasm of guilt wrenched him, and he ran a hand through his hair in agitation. There was no call for such in-depth supervision of his subject. A month ago, he would have never done this. Jackson stabbed the power button, and Lisa’s living room blinked out. He slammed the laptop shut. “f*ck it.”
Night again. Jackson’s eyes followed Lisa across the parking lot of the Lux Atlantic as she left work. How many times now? It had become routine for him, and there were instances when he hated Lisa for her monotonous habits. She had gone out last night to Carmelita’s, so she would certainly stay home tonight. If not for her job, Jackson would have thought her an agoraphobe.
Last night’s events had been dicey but stimulating. Pulling onto the palm tree-lined boulevard a few lengths behind her, he hoped desperately that she would break her routine again.
“How about another Sea Breeze, Leese?” Jackson suggested, hanging back in traffic. “I’ll even chase off the arseholes for you…like I did last night,” he offered thanklessly.
Lisa answered with a flashing turn signal.
“Home again?” Jackson observed. “I don’t know about you and me, Leese,” he said with a doubtful shake of his head. “This just doesn’t seem to be working out between us.” He turned after her.
Jackson looked over at the laptop on the passenger seat; an accusatory reminder of his fixation. It was on, but closed. With a few keystrokes, he could see Lisa as she walked in her front door. And whatever else she did afterwards. Do I really need to see that? He let some distance come between his car and Lisa’s. “You know…I think I need more space, Leese. I really have to think about our relationship.” A smile curved his lips as he began to enjoy the imaginary conversation, but underlying his flippant words was a sensible rationale. He did need to give himself some space from Lisa Reisert. Her car began to leave him behind. It didn’t matter. He knew where she was going. “No, I won’t be doing surveillance on anyone else. I promise.”
Irritated at her tedious lifestyle, Jackson drove past Lisa’s street without bothering to watch her car enter it. What the hell was wrong with her? There was no reason for someone like Lisa - attractive, successful, dependable - to be on self-imposed house arrest. Why, then? Brooding over this, something nagged his subconscious, a feeling he was missing a piece somewhere. Or maybe he was reading too much into this…it could merely be a recent breakup, or some other trivial event that grew to epic proportions in a female mind.
Bored frustration building, he kept driving. Further down the road he passed a movie theater, several bars and restaurants…alluring alternatives to sitting in the car, straining his eyes at a computer screen.
But a small shopping plaza, deserted at this hour, caught his eye. He turned into the parking lot and edged the Lexus into a space.
Jackson cast a guilty eye at the laptop, sighed…and gave in. He reached over, fingertips caressing its surface. “Ahh, you know I don’t mean it, Leese,” he said in a soothing whisper, pulling the screen open slowly. “Come here.”
He checked his surroundings hurriedly, making sure no one was close by. Then brought up the window to the web cam, his knee bouncing impatiently against the steering column as he waited for it to load.
Lisa. Putting her things down on a small table almost out of the camera’s range, back to him. She took off her shoes one at a time, standing on one leg alternately, and threw them carelessly in a corner.
A slow smile spread over Jackson’s face. “Hello, Leese…how was your day?” he greeted her softly, almost affectionately.
For the next hour, he watched as Lisa sorted her mail, microwaved soup for dinner, and ate it in front of the late newscast. She disappeared for a while into another room, causing him to tap anxious fingers on the console until she returned in a University of Miami tee shirt and shorts. They were slightly wrinkled, drawing a smirk from Jackson.
Lisa sat in a corner of her sofa, legs tucked beneath her, her hair pulled back in something between a bun and a messy ponytail, an I-don’t-give-a-damn hairstyle never meant to be seen by others.
Pensive, Jackson stared at her, experiencing an unusual array of thoughts and feelings. This was, quite possibly, the most destructive activity he could engage in. To eventually succeed at his task, it was vital that he regard Lisa as nothing more than an instrument; a tool he needed and would use briefly before discarding. Watching her live her life until the battery in his computer ran low would damage that disciplined perception. And he was doing it voluntarily.
Lisa had not moved from her spot on the sofa; probably wouldn’t until she got up to go to bed. She scratched her leg and yawned.
A sudden feeling of disgrace overwhelmed Jackson. Not because he was watching her, but because his desperate isolation had driven him to the point where he could take pleasure in seeing someone at their most boring.
Pathetic.
More and more, he was using that word to describe himself in his thoughts, and it bothered him.
Jackson reversed the Lexus out of the spot in the shopping plaza and muscled it onto the main drag, stomping the gas with more force than was necessary. Enough of this. Without looking, he stretched out a hand and shut the laptop. Then picked it up and hoisted it into the back seat.
He needed a sanity break. Keefe was accounted for. Lisa was accounted for. Jackson had his cellphone; if anything changed, he would hear about it. He was ready to make his move whenever the time came.
In the meantime, he would do what he should have been doing all along - enjoying this tropical paradise while he had the chance.
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Post by Pisces on Mar 25, 2009 16:01:50 GMT -5
Chapter 5
Ocean-scented air flowing through the lowered window of his Lexus, Jackson tried to empty his mind of all things work-related and focus on his surroundings. At this late hour, the traffic was as light as it got in Miami, although people still roamed the sidewalks. He coasted along the boulevard, passing the public beach area. Maybe a run on the shore was in order; nothing cleared the cobwebs like a good hard sprint. His gym bag with shorts and running shoes inside was right behind his seat, too.
A familiar sign with pink neon flamingos caught his eye. Carmelita’s. Maybe what was needed was a drink or two to take the edge off. Why not? Jackson had no trouble finding a space across the street. It felt liberating to get out of the car with no files, no half-assed disguise. Like a real person.
Walking across the street as he had the night before, he had a sense of déjà vu. But tonight, no music resonated from within the bar…and Lisa was not waiting inside. At the memory of the previous night’s excitement, he felt a faint pang of wistfulness, which made him annoyed. Stop it.
Vicky, his helpful waitress from last night, was wiping down the bistro tables outside.
“Hi, Vicky,” Jackson said, pausing to greet her.
She looked over her shoulder at him, face blank. Then broke into a wide smile, blushing slightly. “Oh, hey!” She straightened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you without the glasses! Um…”
“John,” he said, offering a hand.
She took it with a gentle grip. “Hi.” Her hand was damp from the dishtowel, and soft. “Vicky. Well, you already knew that,” she said, embarrassed.
Jackson smiled. “Pretty quiet night?”
“Well, we’re actually just closing,” Vicky winced, as if afraid to disappoint him.
No music, lots of free parking spots…of course - Sunday night. Jackson looked at his watch, then around the street, stunned that he had not realized this. “What was I thinking?” he murmured, more to himself.
Vicky laughed. “It’s okay. I lose track of what day it is too.” She resumed her wiping of the table. Glancing up to see Jackson still standing there, she appeared to take pity on him. “I can make you a drink anyway,” she offered.
“No, don’t do that, Vicky. You probably want to finish this so you can get out of here. I won’t hold you up.”
Vicky pushed a chair in under the table, its iron feet scraping on the sidewalk. “You should come back on Tuesday, it’s karaoke night. Gets pretty crazy.” Her long chestnut hair swayed as she moved. “Are you on vacation?”
“No. I’ve been here on business since the end of June.”
“Oh, that’s right…all those folders you brought here last night.”
Jackson shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for two Harleys to pass noisily by. “Yeah. I thought I’d give myself a break from that tonight.” He stared across the street, his eyes coming to rest on the side window of an art gallery. “I’ve spent weeks in my hotel room. And my car. This job’s sucking the life out of me,” he said quietly. He could hardly believe he’d spoken the words, but they were out now.
Vicky paused, his sincerity drawing her attention. She tilted her head, eyes softening. “When do you get to go home?”
Jackson smiled reassuringly. “Pretty soon, I think. Can’t last much longer.” After a moment, he clarified, “I mean the job, not me.”
Vicky laughed, pushed in the last chair, and gave a final swipe over a table. “You know, I came so close to introducing you to someone last night. Especially after you ordered that second drink.”
Jackson’s skin tingled presciently. “Really?”
“Yeah. See, you asked for a Lusty Lisa. I have a friend named Lisa, and she was here last night,” she gestured toward the bar. “I almost went and got her - to bring to your table, as a joke. You know, instead of the drink.”
“No kidding,” Jackson said coolly.
“Yep. But she would have killed me. Maybe I should have done it anyway…you really seemed like her type. She left right around the same time you did.”
Incredible…Vicky was a potential goldmine of information. “Too bad,” Jackson said with regret. “What makes you think I’d be her type? I was getting drinks dumped on me last night.”
Vicky laughed, catching the twinkle in his eye. “Oh, that wasn’t your fault.” She thought for a moment. “I don’t know exactly. You just seemed right for her. To me, anyway.”
Jackson looked askance at Vicky, expressing playful interest. “And what does Lisa look like?” he inquired. Could be a different Lisa, after all…
Vicky grinned slyly. “I should have figured that’s what you’d want to know. But she’s very cute. Petite…a little shorter than me. Dark hair, pretty smile.”
“Well. Thanks for the tip.” Jackson smiled at her, his mind working rapidly. He did not want to walk away from this source now, but Vicky was done working; though she remained before him, reluctant to abandon him in his loneliness. “What about you, Vicky? What are you doing after work?”
“I was going to go home,” she said, one corner of her lips curving up. “But I suppose I could volunteer an hour to salvaging a businessman’s sanity. It’s good karma, I’m sure.”
“At this point, I’ll accept charity,” Jackson said with good-natured humility.
Twenty minutes later, Jackson leaned on the door of his Lexus, watching cars glide past on the street. He had hurriedly cleared the interior of his car of anything that might seem strange to Vicky. But first he had cracked the laptop open once more to see if Lisa was still on her couch. She was, and appeared to be talking on the phone. He turned the notebook off and covered it with a towel, then shoved the folders and other mess under the seat.
Jackson ran a hand over his jaw, remembering that he had not shaved in a day or two. He saw Vicky come out of Carmelita’s, looking up and down the street, searching for him. He waved, and she ran lightly across the street. Still energetic after hours of waitressing; Jackson was impressed.
“Thanks for doing this,” he said, genuinely appreciative. “I’m sure you’re really tired.”
“No problem.” A few loose strands of her hair had escaped their clasp and were caught by the wind blowing off the ocean; Jackson liked the wildness of it. “Do you know where the public beach is?” Vicky asked. “We could go there, just hang out for a little while,” she suggested.
Jackson nodded. “Sounds good. Do you mind if I drive? I’ve got some things in my car I really don’t want to leave. Only if you’re comfortable, Vicky,” he stressed, seeing her hesitate.
Vicky looked into his eyes and self-consciously pulled a wisp of hair from her lip. “Sure.”
During the short drive Jackson discovered that it felt abnormally cramped to have someone else in the car with him, after weeks of occupying it alone. He tried to balance the sense of intrusion with the possibilities that Vicky presented. Whatever she wanted, he was game; but at the moment he preferred conversation, in the hope of learning something more about Lisa.
“So, what is it that you do, John?” Vicky asked.
Jackson took his eyes from the road to meet hers. “If I tell you that, Vicky, people might die needlessly.”
She laughed. “Okay. I get it. You don’t want to talk about your work.”
Jackson merely smiled.
“I understand, I really do. Can you tell me anything about yourself?” she asked hopefully.
Jackson turned into the public beach parking lot, pausing to let a kid carrying a boogie board pass in front of the car. “I’d much rather hear about you, Vicky,” he said.
As he parked, Vicky reached into her oversized crochet handbag and extracted two beers, their necks clinking faintly. “There’s no alcohol on the beach, but we’ll be discreet,” she said, watching his face carefully. “I get the feeling you could use one of these.”
“You’d be right.”
Walking across the sand toward the roaring surf with Vicky, Jackson felt ridiculously overdressed, but the clean wind was bracing. A large cluster of seagulls stood quietly on the sand, and they parted grudgingly, hooting and muttering in annoyance, as Jackson and Vicky passed amongst them. Jackson opened their beer, the bottles so chilled that they steamed. He took a generous swallow, closing his eyes in satisfaction. He felt the tension beginning to melt away, and for a moment he could have believed he truly was on vacation.
They walked parallel to the roiling waves pounding the beach, flecks of foam scudding past like bubble bath. It was dark along the shoreline, and Jackson could see only a few other people sprinkled in the area, darker silhouettes standing in the waves fishing, or sitting on the sand. A lighter flicked on briefly, revealing a couple lying on a towel, before a gust of wind blew the flame out.
A bittersweet pang pinched Jackson’s gut without warning, in envy of the normalcy all around him. The silhouettes scattered across the beach had lives. Walking with a stranger, he himself was only pretending. He quickly stifled the regretful feelings with a gulp of beer and glanced at Vicky, whom he’d almost forgotten.
She spoke before he did. “You know, I have to be honest…” she began.
Jackson slowed his steps, turning to her.
“I’m really only here to test you,” she revealed.
He stopped, straining to see her face in the gloom. “I’m not sure I like the sound of this.”
“I know. See, the thing is…I’m separated. So going for a romantic walk on the beach with another man is the last thing I should be doing right now.”
Jackson could not prevent a slow smile. “Is that what we’re doing?”
Vicky looked down the shore and smiled coyly. “Well, I was enjoying thinking of it that way.”
Jackson moved closer to her. Her features were appealing; even in the dark she was attractive in a noble, brooding way. He leaned to her, attentive to any sign of her drawing away. She stood her ground, her dark eyes meeting his, giving permission. He touched his lips to hers softly, and ran the back of his hand down the silky river of hair that flowed over her shoulder to her breast. “What test were you planning on putting me through?” he said quietly.
Vicky took his hand and led him away from the surf to where the sand was softer and drier. She knelt, pulling him down to her. “I told you before. I thought you were perfect for my friend.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed gentle lips to his, entreating him to kiss her more fully. “I wanted to make sure, before I tell her about you,” she said breathlessly.
Jackson turned his face slightly away, averting the deeper kiss. He couldn’t…it felt too personal. “What friend was that?” he urged softly, pressing his body against hers, feeling the warmth of her along with the coolness of the sand beneath his knees. Say it…
Vicky twined her fingers in his hair. “Lisa,” she said, kissing his jaw.
“Lisa…” Jackson whispered, closing his eyes. His hands slid into her hair…Lisa’s hair, soft in his fingers. Her voluptuous lips on his neck, gentle hands unbuttoning his shirt to explore beneath…
He found himself on his back, the sand molding to his body, and she hovered over him, her lips skimming his chest tenderly. Jackson moved against her, thrilled to feel her answer with a delicious undulation. But being trapped beneath her was too passive for him. Lisa had controlled him for so long; he wanted to control her. To bring her down like prey…
Seizing her around the waist, Jackson rolled over in the sand, taking her with him. Once on top of her, his forcefulness asserted itself, and he tasted and bit gently at the flesh of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of…Lisa…
Her thighs gripped his tense hips, stirring further passion in him, and at last his mouth found and explored hers; inhibitions gone. The thunderous surf, the wind, the woman beneath his body…all melding somehow into one rapturous sensation…Leese…
Suddenly his cellphone beeped insistently, hanging on his hip like a parasite. You gotta be kidding me…
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Post by Pisces on Mar 25, 2009 16:10:32 GMT -5
Chapter 6
Opening his eyes, Jackson was startled by the sight of Vicky underneath him in the dark. Realizing the extent of his fantasy, he started to push himself away in embarrassment, but she pulled him down again.
“Wait…I have to get this…” he gasped, feeling for the phone.
Instead of finding the cellphone, his hand closed over hers. She had reached the phone first, and gripped it tightly, unwilling to let him retrieve it. “Don’t…” she pleaded, pulling him back to her.
The phone rang again, like an alarm clock breaking up an erotic dream, and Jackson felt his desire ebbing. “I need to answer this, Vicky,” he said, prying at her fingers, trying not to hurt her.
“You said you wanted a break from all of that,” she reminded him. Her other hand ventured low, stroking him through his clothing in an attempt to distract him from the call.
Annoyed that she thought he would be sidetracked so easily, he sat up, still atop her, and looked down at her hand clasped around the phone. It rang again, causing Jackson an unpleasant anxiety. “I need to answer that,” he repeated warningly.
He felt a tug at his waistband, and watched in astonishment as Vicky yanked the cellphone from his hip and threw it over his head, giggling. He heard it bleat as it flew through the air to land somewhere in the sand behind him.
Jackson’s jaw tightened. “Very funny.” He got to his feet and turned to search for the cell. When it rang again, he located it and picked it up, brushing sand from its buttons.
“Yeah,” he answered, looking over his shoulder to see Vicky sitting up, staring at him in disbelief. He walked a few paces away.
“Hey. Thought you weren’t gonna answer.” It was technical support.
“Well, I did. What’s up?” He began to button his shirt with one hand.
“You wanted to be alerted to any anomalous phone activity. A half hour ago, we had a long distance call from Dallas, Texas to your subject - it came in at 11:42 PM, for a duration of twelve minutes.”
Jackson rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, eyes faraway. “Really.” Lisa’s mother lived in Texas, he knew. Why would she call her daughter so late at night?
“That’s it. You said you wanted unusual calls.”
“Yeah, I do. Thank you. Let me know if any more pop up.” Jackson ended the call and stared at the black ocean for a few moments. With reluctance, he turned back towards Vicky. She was sitting on the sand, legs crossed.
The wind buffeted Jackson’s back, tumbling his hair into his eyes as he returned the phone to its rightful place on his hip. “Vicky… I’m sorry about that. But my work is very important.”
“What sort of job would call you at midnight on Sunday?” she said, unconvinced.
Jackson sighed. She didn’t get it. The instant she had snatched the phone and thrown it, he had lost all respect for her. It was hard to imagine that only a few minutes ago he had been so passionate with her. The gossamer attraction he’d felt, so tenuous with a stranger, was gone; there was no reviving it now.
“Are you married?” Vicky asked.
Jackson fought his annoyance. She’d already admitted to being separated herself. “Yeah. To this job,” he said bitterly. He supposed in some bizarre fashion, he was married to Lisa Reisert.
An uncomfortable silence hung over them as he remained standing before her. When she began to realize he was not going to sit down with her again, Vicky rose slowly, brushing sand from her body. “You know what? I’m sorry. I didn’t realize your call was that crucial. That was immature of me.”
Damn right it was. Jackson, mollified by her apology, felt a spark of pity for her. She was lonely, just as he was; had tried to find solace with him for a night, and his job had ruined it. Welcome to my world, Vicky…
He could excuse her - he had been able to take his call - but he could not bring back the lustful feelings. If they’d ever been for her at all. Suddenly aware of who had inspired his unleashed ardor, he shoved the unnerving truth from his mind.
“It’s okay,” Jackson said, recovering his usual poise. “You were just trying to rescue me, right?”
“Right,” said Vicky with a relieved smile.
“Well,” Jackson looked at his watch, “I think we should call it a night. What do you think?”
They collected the beer bottles from where they’d dropped them in their enthusiasm, and began the walk back.
Nearing his car, Jackson slung an arm around Vicky’s shoulders, drawing her head closer as they walked, and gave her a consoling kiss on the cheekbone. “Thank you for bringing me out here, Vicky.”
“No problem. You seemed like you needed a little help tonight.”
Oh, I need help, all right.
As he unlocked the doors to the Lexus, his eye was drawn to the car next to his. A silver Camry. Can’t be… His heart beating a little faster, Jackson walked to the rear of the car to check the license plate. Dade County. E25-RPT. And the white decal of a tropical flower in the back window. The flower that had been his beacon for six weeks.
“Oh my God!” Vicky exclaimed. “That’s Lisa’s car!”
Jackson shot a glance at her, hoping she did not notice that he’d shown interest in the car before her words.
Vicky was bubbling over with excitement. “She must be on the beach too. Listen, let’s go find her! I can introduce you two.”
What’s wrong with her? Jackson’s eyes darted around the parking lot and beach, horrified that Lisa might be within shouting distance of Vicky. “No, don’t worry about that,” he protested.
“Come on!” Vicky pleaded. “This might be your only chance to meet her!”
Jackson smirked ironically. Vicky was convinced that he and Lisa were fated to meet; he had to give credit to her instinct. She happened to be right, but never would have imagined why. “No, really,” he insisted. “I’m sure she’s a nice person. But I’m just not interested.” It was hard even to say the words.
“Are you sure?” Vicky looked disappointed.
Why was she so hell-bent on introducing him to Lisa? Jackson climbed into the car. “I’m sure,” he said firmly. He needed to get rid of Vicky and get back to the beach quickly. Lisa was out. He hadn’t been covering her, and she’d gotten away from him. Jackson almost felt sick.
Vicky got in the car reluctantly, still looking around for Lisa. Jackson backed the Lexus hurriedly, with a final glance at Lisa’s car. He could hardly believe she was here; it was so out of character for her.
Grateful that the drive back to Carmelita’s was short, Jackson said nothing along the way, his mind crammed with worry and speculation about Lisa’s unsupervised outing. He was driving fast, and knew that Vicky was likely to think he was in a rush to rid himself of her company after their unsuccessful near-coupling, but he was past caring.
Jackson parked in front of the café, braking abruptly. Vicky smiled and gathered her purse slowly, evidently hoping for some sort of farewell conversation. Jackson was sorry that he had not been able to find out anything personal about Lisa from her, but the risks of associating with Vicky far outweighed the benefits. He was done with her.
“Well, if you have time, I hope you find your way back to this place,” she said hopefully, indicating the café with a nod of her head. “I work almost every night.”
Jackson smiled at her but kept his tone serious. “It would be nice. But I think I need to focus on my job while I’m here.” He held her gaze intently so that she would not misunderstand.
Vicky began to rummage in her purse. “Let me give you my number. Hang on, I know I’ve got a pen in here somewhere…”
She was stalling. Jackson gritted his teeth in impatience. Lisa might move again, and he would lose her entirely if she did not go back home. His stomach clenched as Vicky continued to dig and paw through the contents of her overlarge bag, finding nothing.
Come on, come on… Jackson fidgeted in his seat, trying not to look at Vicky, whose ineffectual search was agonizing. Finally, he could stand it no longer. Leaning across her, he tore open the glove compartment and grabbed a pen from inside. “Here,” he said, handing it to her along with the receipt from the car rental place. He struggled to keep his voice level. “Write it on this.”
Vicky wrote out her number and gave it to him, meeting his eyes. “My cell is always on.”
“Thanks,” Jackson said, forcing another smile. “But I can’t promise I’ll be able to call.”
“I know.” Acceptance already in her voice. She got out and closed the door.
Jackson put the Lexus in motion, turning it around. “Sorry, Vicky,” he said, giving her a parting glance in his rearview mirror. He was furious at himself for his amateurish faltering tonight. There would be no more attempts at relaxation or leisure from him, no more self-indulgent distractions.
Speeding back to the public beach, Jackson leaned forward in his seat, as if that would make the Lexus go faster. “Don’t go anywhere, Leese. Don’t move…” he pleaded, his heart racing in anxiety.
Why had she left her home so late? It seemed he could not have an hour’s free time to himself, as if she were deliberately tormenting him; setting him up for a fall each time he let his guard down. “You’re killing me, Leese. You know that?”
Lisa had been on the beach with him. Had he seen her and not realized it? Everyone had been a faceless silhouette in the dark, there was no way to be sure. Did she see me? Had she been in his vicinity, Lisa might have noticed him crawling all over Vicky in the sand. His face burned at the idea.
Jackson reached the public beach again, and saw with vast relief that Lisa’s car was still there. “Good girl,” he whispered. Parking as far from it as possible, he reached behind his seat and yanked the gym bag out. He paused for a moment. Should he simply wait here, until she returned to her car? That would be easiest.
But Jackson wanted to stay as close as possible to Lisa. He did not know if she was alone or with someone on the dark beach, and he was uncomfortable not knowing her status. Sitting in the car and helplessly watching for her return did not appeal to him. He pulled a pair of shorts and his running shoes from the bag.
He changed in the front seat, stripping off his shirt and pants, and tugging on the shorts and sneakers - an exercise in agility he had not performed since high school. Getting out of the car, he felt almost naked, but at least he blended in with the other late-night beachgoers. And now he could run.
Jackson set off at a jog. Passing by her car, he trailed his fingers across its warm, glossy surface. On the beach, he ran through the same assembly of seagulls, scattering them to flight with raucous cries and a rain of sh*t that he miraculously avoided, swearing in disgust. Once clear of the birds, he realized the daunting task he had set for himself. Finding Lisa on this beach was going to be difficult. The moon was the merest sliver in the sky; people were the vaguest forms against the sand.
Which way to go? Left or right? It was the only choice to be made, and if he decided wrong, he would have to run back the other way to find her. He chose left, the same direction he had walked with Vicky.
Jackson jogged along the shore, searching each person he passed in the dark, quickly studying their height, hair and walk. It felt good to run, he was enjoying the exertion. Lisa was out here somewhere, he would find her, and she would not be able to see him well enough to identify him. He would redeem himself for his earlier carelessness. Determined, he jogged at a steady pace, observing each person on the beach.
The waves pounded the shore with an angry force that he could feel through the soles of his shoes. He ran past a couple of surfers. They waded out into the crashing froth with delighted yells of bravado. Jackson jogged along, his muscles loosening up satisfyingly.
He neared an old man fishing, and detoured around the invisible fishing line in a wide arc, wondering what the man could possibly catch in the roiling surf. He passed two middle-aged women carrying their shoes, and responded to their polite greeting in kind.
Reaching a long expanse of beach without a soul upon it, he ran faster. He doubted Lisa would have gone this far from her car. There was no one remotely resembling her on this side of the beach.
Jackson slowed. “Goddamn it,” he cursed. He had run at least a mile, and found no sign of her. He had chosen the wrong direction. Shaking damp hair from his forehead, he turned around and set off back toward his starting point, at a faster run than before.
This was insane. He should have stayed in the car. What had made him think he could find her on this midnight beach, or that he should even try? He was making one mistake after another, like cascading dominoes. Jackson ran faster, unease gnawing at his gut. When he had first run out onto the beach, he had expected to have Lisa in his sights again within minutes. But she was not here.
He ran faster.
Dashing past the surfers again, he heard them whoop and laugh. “Hurry!” one howled mockingly from the waves.
Jackson ran on. He neared the place where he had started, and strained his eyes to see what cars remained in the parking lot. Oh, no. No, no…
Lisa’s car was gone.
Jackson broke into a dead run. He cut diagonally across the beach to shorten the distance and hurdled the cement wall between the beach and the parking lot. He sprinted across the asphalt to his vehicle and jumped in, after a short scrabble at the door with nervous hands. Collapsing into the seat, he started the car, his breath coming in rapid gasps. His sweaty hand seized the shifter.
Surely Lisa had gone home. It was the only place he knew to look for her. Jackson pulled onto the boulevard and headed toward her condo. He poked a vent so that the air conditioning was directed onto his overheated torso, and tried to calm his panting exhalations. His calves burned from his sprint over the deep sand, but he felt numb inside as he drove, unwilling to acknowledge the terrible truth that faced him.
He gripped the steering wheel tighter and shook his head at himself in sickened self-loathing. Only a few times in his career had he ever lost his subject. But the more intensive the surveillance, the harder it became to maintain the target’s position with any kind of consistency, without rotating shifts to do so. He was alone, and sustaining awareness of Lisa’s whereabouts every second was impossible. And yet he hated himself for not accomplishing it.
Jackson turned onto Lisa’s street, focusing intently on the area in front of her condo. Her parking space was empty. He cursed in anguished concern as he passed by, unable to believe his eyes. She was gone. For the first time in six weeks, he did not know where Lisa Reisert was.
I lost her.
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Post by rukia888 on Mar 25, 2009 22:34:31 GMT -5
As far as anything new, that's always a possibility. In a way, I'm testing interest by reposting CTL here.... trying to see if there is anyone out there who still reads the fandom! I have to have reaction when I post something or I get easily discouraged. The reaction at ff.net to CTL was phenomenal and something I will likely never encounter again in posting a fic, lol. Timing is everything! But I will for sure put the rest of CTL up here. I do hope you'll consider posting a new fanfic! I know that maybe the number of people in the fandom might have diminished from before, but some of us are still here, that's for sure! I'm always happy when I read a new, good J/L fanfic. It just sucks when the author stops updating...
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Post by emma286 on Sept 2, 2009 19:39:11 GMT -5
I logged on a bit earlier this evening, at the time read the first three chapters of this - was then going to carry on tomorrow but then in the end found myself so intrigued by the story I had to just come back again and finish reading the remaining three. Absolutely loved reading all six chapters. I was totally gripped all the way through. Great work there Pisces! I think you're a really good writer! And that you came up with some very interesting ideas for that story.
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Post by Pisces on Sept 3, 2009 10:42:42 GMT -5
Hi Emma! This isn't the whole fic!! Sorry for the confusion - I posted the first few chapters here a few months ago but never posted the remaining ones because A) I'm lazy... and B) There wasn't enough reaction to encourage me to do so. But now I feel moved to direct you here- www.fanfiction.net/s/2993273/1/ - where the entire fic is... al 31 chapters. If you dare. Thank you SO much for the feedback!! ;D
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Post by emma286 on Sept 3, 2009 15:42:59 GMT -5
No probs at all Pisces Many thanks for including that link there, will definitely be checking that out and again no worries for the feedback
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Post by Zombiekitten on Mar 23, 2011 13:52:21 GMT -5
Zombiekittens review (this might contain spoilers!!) Pisces.... this fic is a treasure.... a jewel… I feel like falling on my knees to grant you for this experience you shared with us readers, with me. I got to chapter 24 so far. And what should I say... I wish my English vocabulary had a bigger range so I could express better what I feel about this story with which you blessed a Red Eye lover like me. There’s so much I want to say about it… But I feel like locked in this language that isn’t my own… Well then… I might give it a try cause I really would like to tell about my thoughts. You have the right to know it and you deserve it. It is pure excitement and pleasure to read. I was sitting in front of the screen, reading, grinning, blushing, giggling, feeling thrill and sweet sensation. I ‘m not overreacting, neither I want to butter you up or something. It is really what I feel about Crossing the Line. The story is like filling a gap to the movie. It is so real and understandable, it could really be a possible and worthy sequel (as well as a prequel and a retelling) to Red Eye, indeed! Not that you have only created a well thought intelligent plot, you even managed to let the characters act plausible. (and according to the movies characters and script as well) Probably the most amazing thing is that you described the characters so clever and believable that there isn’t a doubt about what they are doing and why. You even filled some gaps in the Red Eye storyline with logic and context! Several times while reading I was like: “Ahhh! That’s why Rippner did this” “That was his intension” “That’s what he was thinking about” It felt like you “completed” Rippners character in some way. It 's like looking into him, getting to know a side of him the movie never reveals. Or only in some hints or suggestions. You answered questions the movie hardly answers. (For expl. What the sense is in flirting with Lisa at the Texmex). It ‘s like you give us readers sort of a look behind the scenes! And what also makes your fic so special and moving is that you not just took the characters and let them do something completely odd referring to the movies events. You somehow fulfilled, completed the movie… It was really enjoyable to follow Rippner during his observation of Lisa. And also interesting 'cause you came up with some well thought psychological elements about Rippners acting and thinking. And the way he talks and his behavior and all that! So typical Rippner!! Pure pleasure! Be honest: You know him personally, don't you?? Another thing that gives kind of a movie feeling about the fic is that you created such wonderful, cinematic pictures. Like storm Katrina in the “background” of the story. Or Rippner, lying in his bed in his darkened hotel room, only lit by the light of the Laptop on which he is observing Lisa. An almost intimate scene! Or that wonderful scene with Vicky on the beach… in the darkness, where he imagines Vicky is Lisa… So hot and intense! It felt a little like your fanfic was a movie, so colorful and visual is it written and built. You know so well how to create pictures and feelings. Your fic could really be some kind of a script for a sequel! And it' s so easy to imagine this 'cause you created the whole story so good with all your ideas in plot and visual things. And Gosh was that kiss on the plane hot!!! Almost felt it myself! *blushes* You even found a plausible reason for that kiss! Creative and intelligent! And when they make love…. You tell so much with only less words… It’s amazing. With only a few words you create a love scene that is much more erotic than it would have been if you went into much details or mature content. It’s unobtrusive and beautiful and therefore very erotic. I 'm now looking forward to the last chapters. In which the events will be very dramatic I guess! Unfortunately I stumbled over a few tiny hints in the web... But I don't know exactly what happens, only that it is something dramatic and moving. But I expect nothing else than drama for the end. ;D And: (almost forgot) CB for the pleasure I had with CtL!! ;D
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