- Steele of My Innocence 4/7
Date: Monday, March 20, 2000
- 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
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
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