Steele of My Innocence 4/7
Date: Monday, March 20, 2000
Linda <>

Part 4
NC-17!!(Adult situations)

The travelers spent a restless night, despite having indulged in four first-class fares to Paris. Steele couldn't help but notice that Laura was determined to consume her chocolate quota for an entire month, but he wisely held his tongue. Frances had grown uncharacteristically silent, while Donald absently thumbed through the Dental Association's journal. Wrinkling his nose at the airline's cuisine, Steele instead assisted Laura in polishing off the box of chocolates. Toward the last couple of hours of their journey, Laura succumbed to an uneasy slumber, her head resting on Harry's shoulder.
"Should I be concerned that the gendârmes may be on the look-out for Jacques Murell?" Laura's teasing stage whisper as they waited in the Customs line at DeGaulle wasn't muffled enough for Harry.

"Hush. We wouldn't want to confuse the chaps, now would we?" Brandishing the passport that identified him as the world-renowned detective Remington Steele, he turned on the charm for the agent behind the counter.

A short cab ride from the airport brought them to the
Intercontinental Hotel, located in the Opera quarter of
Paris, a short walk from the Louvre. Harry was buoyed to see that the sights and sounds of Paris elicited appreciative oohs and aahs from both Laura and her sister.

Agreeing to meet after a short nap, the couples separated. Alone at last, thought Steele, and as they stepped on the elevator he lost no time in pulling her close. He was surprised to feel the level of tension in her, from the way she rigidly held her neck to the tight grip she maintained on his hand.

The elevator lurched to a stop, and they began their march down the hall to locate their room. Large by Parisian standards, the room was tastefully decorated, but more importantly it had an exquisite view of the gilded roof of the nearby Opera House.
The bell attendant who arrived within moments lit a fire in the hearth, chasing some of the chill from the air. Harry tipped the man for his trouble and fervently wished that this, their first trip to Paris together, had been prompted by better circumstances. On his way out, the discerning bell man dimmed the lights and hung a ne dérangez pas sign on the door.

Ever the thoughtful husband, Harry helped Laura out of her shoes and hose, unzipped her dress and peeled it off. Attempting to alleviate at least some of the stress in Laura's graceful shoulders, he caressed them with his fingertips. Laura in lovely lingerie was usually a sight guaranteed to incite his ardor, but today Harry knew that what Laura really needed was a supportive husband to, to. . . . Laura turned suddenly in his arms and pressed the length of her body against his. When he hesitated slightly, she stood on tiptoe to envelop his lips in hers.

"Are you sure----I thought you were----"

"Tired? Yes. Too tired to make love? Never." She whispered the words, and he heard them but they sounded so far away. It was clear that she needed to choose how and where, to create this loving reality, and he contentedly surrendered to her. Even so, he thought he needed to hold her up, and he did, gathering her in a tender embrace. She slowly loosened and unknotted his tie, freeing it from around his neck in a lingering, fluid motion. His starched white dress shirt was next; even as she unbuttoned it Laura marveled ruefully how the man could have flown six thousand miles while remaining uncreased. Once his chest was unencumbered, Laura's hands touched his bare skin, and he couldn't help it-----he jumped. A year of marriage had only heightened her ability to entrance him, while her touch aroused him in ways he could never articulate to anyone, even to Laura. Her fingers traced concentric circles that grew ever smaller until she skimmed his nipples with her thumbs. His prolonged intake of breath told Laura all she needed, and she lowered her mouth and took one nipple between her lips. Now it was Harry who needed help staying on his feet, but Laura had other ideas.

As she brought both hands to the zipper of his trousers, her fingertips raked up and then down as she leisurely released the zipper, one tooth at a time, until it gaped open. In one fluid motion, Laura teased her fingers between the waistband of Harry's boxers and his bare skin, pushing them down over his growing erection. Harry obligingly kicked off his shoes, while Laura helped free his feet of his taupe silk socks. But instead of rising, she knelt in front of him, getting close enough for him to feel her exhale. Slowly, deliberately, she grasped his erect penis and breathed soft kisses everywhere. Steele swayed, and just when he thought he couldn't wait any longer, her soft, sweet mouth surrounded him.

As only a man's wife can, Laura knew just when to stop. She greedily wanted it all tonight, and she intended to get it. Gravity helped Harry sink to the floor, and he was relieved to find his back supported by the all-purpose, très élégant Louis XIV side chair. Without a pause Laura straddled his thighs and sat down on his lap, while he swallowed hard as he recovered just enough to favor her with the amorous attention she most certainly deserved. Smiling, she closed her eyes and clung to Harry's neck, as he teased her breasts with his touch. Laura drew his head to the base of her neck, just at the cleft between her clavicles, eagerly shuddering in anticipation. His hands ran up her arms and the sides of her neck, and then met in the locks of her hair, as his tongue pursued first one and then the other nipple. Breathing hard now, Laura edged forward until she could lower herself just so, and she did, swiftly and knowingly. She knew what it would feel like, what she would feel like. Along the far wall, she watched as the two distinct shadows were plaited. It was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. As it should be.

With one hand Harry caressed her thigh, her hip, her scarcely swollen belly, while with the other he reached between their bodies, just above their coupling, searching for and finding that warm, wet, soft center. Among the discarded clothing, bathed in the glow of the firelight, in a hotel room in the City of Lights, they renewed one another again. And again.
Despite the fact that Laura looked lovely sprawled in his arms, bathed in an orange glow, Steele decided that the bed was a better option, and so he gathered her up to retreat to that oasis. He stroked her abdomen, a small bulge the only clue that love holds many consequences, some more significant than others. Content to fall asleep in his arms, Laura was grateful that she could set aside whatever unpleasant revelations awaited her and bask in the delight of love reciprocated. While she slept, Steele studied her: her face, still flushed; her hair spilling over the pillow; her breasts peeking out above the sheet. When he inhaled, the atmosphere suggested a complex chemistry that never failed to impassion him. He and she, she and he, inseparable, indistinguishable, here at least, in this bed, in this moment. . . . Hmm, well, enough of that, eh? She needed some sleep after all.
But something struck him as different about their lovemaking tonight. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, and then all of a sudden he did. He knew what it was. It was consistent with Laura's analytic nature for her to be rather talkative during their most intimate moments. In a pure, open way she laid bare her truly personal thoughts, desires, feelings, and he had always been in awe of this, perhaps her greatest gift to him. But tonight was unlike any rhythm they had ever established before, and in a sudden 'aha' moment he knew why. His Laura, ever analyzing, rationalizing, deliberating, had let all of that go tonight: she never spoke a word, not one syllable.

End Part 4
Thank you to the best beta readers out there: Anne & Jax.
To Part 5