Twiddled Steele
Date: Wednesday, November 21, 2001

Sue Hantak <hantaks@mtco.com>

(This is becoming a game of fiction writing tag, so now I'm 'IT' with the two of them at the heliport on their way to Catalina. All naughtiness can be: blamed on, or thanks to, Nancy for starting all of this )

Twiddled Steele

By Suejue

Remington and Laura sat in the end seats of a short row of four bolted chairs. Another four were attached at their backs. Although no one sat in their immediate vicinity, the small heliport seemed quite busy. Remington folded his overcoat across his lap.

"Winds delaying us this time, Laura. Do you think The Almighty is in on the conspiracy to keep us from going away together?"

"Perhaps we have The Almighty to thank for the avalanche in Vail." Laura pointed out.

"What's the saying, 'the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away?"

"Just because we are stuck here, doesn't mean we have to sit and twiddle our thumbs."

"Do you want to get a newspaper? Do a crossword or something?"

"I thought there might be something else I could twiddle," Her hand snuck underneath his coat.

"Laura!" Remington exclaimed in what he thought was an alarming tone. He looked around though to see that no one else in the terminal had noticed. Then in a tone closer to a whisper, he asked, "Laura, what has gotten into you?"

Laura just smiled in a way that could be best described as 'bawdy' and replied, "You".

She increased the intensity and began a rhythmic stroke with just her fingertips. Remington shifted slightly in his chair. Slipping would be more accurate term though, given the slick vinyl upholstery.

"Laura, please, I beg you, don't start anything that we can't finish."

"I can finish this, if I could just have unfettered access." She began to unzip.

He stood abruptly. Smoothing and straightening, "Laura, I don't wish to be unfettered in public."

It was a rare treat to see her Mr. Steele a bit flustered and embarrassed. She surveyed the limited choices offered. Eyeing a nearby supply closet, her licentious smile returned. She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him along. Remington was resisting to a certain degree, but not entirely unwilling.

They closed and locked the door. Remington pulled Laura close with the intent of kiss her, but she pushed him back against the door and reached for his zipper, "No distractions, Mr. Steele, I've got a job to do here.

"Far be it for me to ever stop you from 'working', Laura." Remington closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Laura pushed all fabric aside and withdrew an eager member. She experimented with a variety of movements; light touch, firm stroke, delicate trace, squeeze and release, fast pump, slow pump, full grip, entire shaft, just head. Only guided by the subtle moans and involuntary thrusting of an otherwise non-participating Mr. Steele, she would repeat appreciative actions with more vigor until the moans became more audible and the thrusting more deliberate. The full grip, rapid pump, thumb circling the head motion apparently was the one needed for the job. An otherwise incoherent Remington, managed a ragged "Oh babe" and erupted. This time, when he pulled Laura into a fiery kiss, she didn't stop him.

Mr. Steele restored his wardrobe as best he could. Laura reached for the handle of the door.

"Where do you think you're going, Miss Holt?"

"I was going to the ladiesroom."

"Don't I get to twiddle you?"

"Here? In a maintenance closet? It's not suitable."

"What do you mean its not suitable?"

"Simple anatomy, Mr. Steele. In case the obvious has escaped you, men have more accessible parts for this sort of supply closet antics."

"Nonsense, Laura."

"I just don't want you to start something we can't finish." Laura mimicked his earlier concerns.

He pulled her once again close, "Oh I can finish, I promise you that." His hands slipped up the back side of her skirt and he began to inch down her panty hose. "Turn around," he instructed.

"Turn around?"

"Simple mechanics, Laura. This approach lends itself to the proper angle and better point of entry."

With her back against his chest, his left hand held her just above her waist and his right hand explored below her skirt. His index finger lightly teased just above her opening in that spot where not touching it is only thing more torturous than touching it. Laura shifted to bring herself in contact. Remington slipped in his long slender fingers and applied a steady maneuver of increasing pressure. Laura began to sway. Her hips would tilt forward and impel herself up on her tiptoes then back down again. Each time she seemed to ride the height of the swell for a little longer, literally trying to squeeze every possible ounce of pleasure from it. Her head fell back against Mr. Steele where he supplied words of encouragement to her nearby ear. "Go with it Laura, Give in to it. Let it come."

Her breathing accelerated. On the next upsurge, Remington urged in tempo with his hand play, "C'mon Laura, c'mon, you can do it, c'mon babe, c'mon."


A small shudder explode into an enormous spasm. Laura slumped against Mr. Steele. His hand stayed in place. Whether it was to prolong her orgasm or a fascination for the inner workings of a woman, he wasn't sure, but he felt it was his reward for a job well done. Laura soon pulled away and wrestled her panty hose back up. She turned and kissed him in a manner similar to the way he kissed her moments earlier. They cautiously opened the supply room door. It was business as usual for the outside world and no one was the wiser. Laura and Remington returned to their seat both wondering, "Dear lord, what have we started?"

(Okay, tag Nancy, you're it)

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