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Just A Game	By : MoreCharahPlease Category: 1 through F > Chuck Views: 68647 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own CHUCK or its characters. I am not making any money from this or any of my CHUCK stories.

Chapter List
- 23
- 24
- 25
Notes: So a lot is happening in this chapter. Buckle up. Strap in. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! Hope you keep reading and enjoying!

Disclaimer: I really don't own anything at all. Not CHUCK. Not anything by Maurice Ravel. Not 10. And not Bo Derek. I'm not making any money off of this story.



I was finally free.

   After sitting on the witness stand for nearly the entire day while both the prosecution and defense asked their questions, the defense more like drilling me, attempting to find holes in my story. But there were no holes. I had the evidence, and I presented his client’s arrest factually. It wasn’t in my best interest not to, because I was a good cop.

   I’d had enough practice now to know how to handle these trials. I was unflappable. I’d always been unflappable. Maybe because I’d seen some crazy shit in my day, even before I entered the academy to become a police officer.

   But this had been a long one.

   And I was fucking starving.

   I sidled up to the taco truck parked across the street from the courthouse and stood in a small line, the smell of the tacos al pastor nearly making me salivate. I liked my tacos authentic and simple. None of that cheese bullshit. Just meat, onion, cilantro, and the spiciest salsa they had to offer. If you were lucky, they had sliced up beets and lime.

   The second I got my tray of tacos, I parked myself on the curb, not caring that a pencil skirt was less conducive to this sort of sitting situation, and began to inhale them.

   My phone rang before I got to the third one. Thankfully I’d grabbed some napkins, I thought to myself as I wiped the grease from my fingers and looked down at my cell.

   I smiled even as I continued chewing.    “M’lo?”

   “Hello, gumshoe.”

   My smile widened at that. I swallowed and dabbed at my lips with the napkin, smashing my phone between my cheek and shoulder and putting the tray on the curb next to me. “Hello, Charles.”

   “Charles.” He chuckled. “Wow.” Then he paused. “You sound like you’re eating. Did I interrupt dinner?”

   I frowned a little, then looked at my watch. “Wow. It’s after 6. I guess I am eating dinner. I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing. I was just starving when I got out of the courthouse.”

   “Courthouse? Did you go and get yourself arrested, Walker?”

   I rolled my eyes. “As a detective with the LAPD, I find myself at the courthouse often.”

   “Ah. Expert witness, huh?”

   “Expert not so much. Usually as the arresting officer.”

   “Defense attorneys must hate you.”

   I laughed and felt a nasty little spark of pride at that. “They kinda do, yeah.”

   He chuckled. “Well, I, uh…you’re probably not gonna be hungry anytime soon.”

   Even as he spoke, I reached down and grabbed the last taco, shoving a third of it into my mouth and chomping down on it, speaking around the food. “What d’you mean?”

   “Well, because…you’re eating now.”

   “I’m always hungry,” I said with a shrug.

   Chuck laughed again. “I really like you, you know that?”

   The boring, tiring, repetitive day suddenly felt a little better all of a sudden. “So what’s this call for? Asking about my eating habits?”

   “Uhhhh. Well, uh…No. I thought…” He cleared his throat and I dropped the taco back in the tray, a little more alert now. “Gah, I’m just gonna do it. Do you want to go out tonight? With me?”

   “Go out?” I asked, not really knowing how to react suddenly. “Like…out out? Like um…Are you asking me to go out with you on a date, Chuck?”

   There was silence for a few seconds. I thought maybe we’d been disconnected but then he spoke up.

   “It-It doesn’t have to be if you—You know what?” He sighed heavily. “Yes. Yes, I am asking you to go out on a date with me, Sarah. A real date. You and me. Eating dinner someplace. Maybe dancing. Maybe a movie. Maybe just…I don’t know. But a date. Yes.”

   Something about the way he started by reeling back a little, before rethinking things and gaining the courage to tell me flat out that he was asking me out on a date, made the answer come out quick. And strong.

   “Yeah. Okay.”

   There was another pause, shorter this time, though. “Okay.” I could hear him smiling. “We can make it a later dinner, if you want. I’m not hungry at the moment.”

   “I can eat whenever.”

   His chuckle was almost bubbly. “Alright then, well…Why don’t I pick you up? What time’s good for you?”

   “7:30? That gives me time to unwind a bit and shower.”

   “I will see you at…Oh. Oh, crap.”

   “What?”

   “Somebody is calling. But I’ll see you at 7:30!”

   I heard a click. “Chuck?” As I glanced at my phone, I saw that he’d ended the call. “Jesus,” I breathed, grabbing the rest of my taco and shoving it into my mouth.

   My hunger satiated, I tossed my tray in the compost bin and walked the rest of the way to my car in the parking structure a block away.

   It was another twenty minutes before I got back to my apartment, and as I pushed my way into the place, turning on the lights, my phone rang again. I didn’t look at the screen, as I was balancing my briefcase and coat in one hand, my purse and pumps I’d taken off in the elevator in the other hand.

   “Walker,” I said.

   “Ah, Detective. I take it the trial took up your whole day.”

   “It did, Sir,” I answered. I hadn’t been expecting it to be Graham on the other line.

   “I wanted to let you know. The conversation we had a few days ago about bringing in that tech specialist from the, uh, the Buy More…a Mr. Charles Bartowski…I figured I’d thought about it enough, and I just gave him a call.”

   So that was why Chuck had rushed to get off the phone with me. Graham must have been calling him while he was still on the phone with me. Hence the ‘Crap!’

   I bit my lip to keep from showing my amusement, even if Graham couldn’t see me.

   “What’s the verdict?” I asked, masking any sort of legitimate interest besides what any detective might have.

   “Well…at the end of the day, we want to do what’s in the best interest of the case. We want to find Fulcrum. We want to fry the piece of shit. But most of all, we want to know if he’s working for someone else, or if he’s working alone. If he is working with someone—”

   “I know, Captain. We’re going to fry them, too.”

   “Exactly. But equally important to me, and to the boys down here, is making sure you’re safe, and that you’re comfortable with the proceedings.”

   “Yessir. And I appreciate that. But what are you getting at?” I let everything in my hands fall onto the couch, before plopping onto the edge of it tiredly.

   “Are you sure we can trust a Buy More employee more than our own analyst who’s worked with this department for 3 years?” I felt a little defensive at the way said that. Just because Chuck worked for the Buy More, it didn’t mean he had less skill. Less opportunity, maybe. And less nepotism. I hated thinking that about Albert, since he was a nice guy. But his father had been chief of police before his death ten years ago.

   But that wasn’t the point.

   I could tell Graham was iffy about Chuck, and I knew it was for the same reason we all had our guard up now. I’d since told him about my phone call with Agent Warner, and how there was a leak in the FBI about my case. Chuck’s theory about it coming from Agent Redding’s email was right. But Redding insisted he had not sent that email, which meant Fulcrum had hacked the FBI. And now the FBI would be involved in this case. Fulcrum had brought them into it.

   I swore he’d done it just to get at my psyche, to get a rise out of me. To let us all know how good he was, what he was capable of. And it chilled me to the bone. I knew the rest of the team were on pins and needles, as well.

   So it was no wonder Graham didn’t jump at the opportunity to pull yet another person into our inner circle. Another person who could mean another leak. Someone who’d go to the press if a pretty package was dangled in front of his face.

   I trusted Chuck. But I understood why Graham didn’t. I couldn’t exactly explain to him why I thought Chuck was so trustworthy. Not with the truth. So I reached for something else.

   “Well, we trusted Mr. Bartowski the first time, didn’t we? I mean, you reassured the rest of us about him then. Citing your mysterious friend who used him for a mysterious reason. I mean he helped us before and he didn’t say anything. At least, not that we know of. I feel like we’d know by now. We’d see it all over the news.”

   Graham grunted softly, still mulling it over probably. “Yes, well…I gave you point on this case. So if you think this is a good idea, we’ll go with it. I figured this was the way my conversation with you would go, so I already told him to come in Monday afternoon.”

   So it was official. I took a silent, deep breath and let my eyes shut. Here we go.

   “Good. Yes. His skill sets will definitely be of help to us. Thank you for talking to him for me,” I said. “I appreciate how you’re all taking so much of this onto your shoulders…” I didn’t really know how to end that…my words getting caught in my throat…

   “We know.”

   “See you on Monday, then.”

   “Yes, you will. Want me to send over that detail? S’not too late. I can still do it.”

   I snorted. “No, Captain. But thank you.”

   He hung up with a chuckle.

   I let myself flop over onto the couch, draping my legs over my coat, purse, and briefcase. And I just stayed like that, my limbs slowly melting into the cushions as I thought about what just happened.

   Graham had called Chuck. He’d asked him if he would like to be brought on for this case. And Chuck had said yes. If only I could’ve been a fly on the wall for that conversation. Was Chuck as nervous about it as I was? Or was I freaking out needlessly?

   If Chuck could hide his past from me for months and months, surely he could hide it from Graham, Casey, O’Bannon, and Ruiz. After all I’d been having a lot of sex with Chuck in that time, spending hours upon hours in his apartment. I had no clue about any of it until he sat there in the precinct and dismantled Fulcrum’s hacks in no time at all. The same Fulcrum who’d successfully hacked an FBI agent’s ridiculously secure email account without being caught.

   I didn’t want to ruin tonight with business chat. I didn’t want to scare Chuck, especially if he wasn’t already nervous about this. Misery loves company and all that, but I didn’t want him feeling the same worry I was currently feeling.

   But before Monday rolled around, I had to be sure he knew every last tip to keeping himself out of the crosshairs. I didn’t want Graham to be suspicious. Or Casey, who was suspicious of a new person he met before he was anything else. Earning his trust was likely more difficult than earning the trust of a lioness with her cubs.

   This was going to be difficult, but hopefully it’d be worth it in the end. I trusted Chuck. And I knew with him on our team, we had a shot of really sinking this bastard’s ship.

———————————

   “You’re maybe gonna kill me.”

   I gave Chuck a look as he walked into my apartment, and underneath it I wondered if he could read how glad I was to see him after three days of being apart.

   “Why?” I dragged it out, my voice low and suspicious.

   He reached around me and shut the door as I walked out of the entry way towards the hallway that led to my room. He was twenty minutes early, which had surprised me a little. He didn’t seem like the late type, for sure. But he never really seemed like the early type, either. He struck me as an always-perfectly-on-time sort of guy.

   When I noticed he wasn’t following, I gestured for him to and ducked down the hallway.

   I heard his footsteps behind me. “Well, uh…You’re probably wondering why I’m so early. Which…I’m not gonna lie, in the future I might arrive early every time if it means you opening the door for me in those.”

   He was early enough that I was only in my flesh-toned lace panties and matching bra. It surprised me to hear him knock this early, but I figured he wouldn’t mind seeing a little skin. I had nothing to hide from him now. After all of these months, he’d seen and touched pretty much every last inch of me.

   “Ha. I’ll just be sure to get dressed an hour early.” I flashed a cheeky grin over my shoulder. “But why are you so early? And why do you think I’m gonna kill you?”

   “Because I did something without asking you. If you don’t wanna go, that’s totally cool, but…What I mean is…Well, did you notice the whole penguin look?” I stopped at the edge of my closet and looked back at him.

   I wasn’t really sure why I’d overlooked the fact that he was dressed in a full on tuxedo. With a vest and a long tie tucked into it. Damn, he looked sexy in a three-piece. Maybe because he was so tall and thin-waisted, with those shoulders of his that felt so good under my hands when we were together.

   I didn’t really know. I just liked it a lot.

   “Why are you in a tux?”

   He followed me to my closet and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, reaching into his inner coat pocket and tugging what looked like tickets out with a flourish. His slow grin was absolutely endearing as much as it warmed me right between my legs.

   “Are those tickets?”

   “I did a job at the Hollywood Bowl this morning. And right when I got off the phone with um, uh…” He cleared his throat. “With your captain…” Mental note to myself to bring that up…later. “…A runner brought two tickets into the Buy More and plopped ‘em on my desk.”

   My jaw dropped. “That’s kinda…last minute.”

   “Yeah, they apologized. But…” He shrugged. “Free LA Phil tickets!”

   “At the Hollywood Bowl?”

   “Well…no. But…it’s gonna be super fancy. An indoor place. And…Well, since we’re getting a free show, I thought I’d spring for an equally super fancy dinner. We have reservations in 10 minutes which is mostly the reason why you’re gonna kill me because we have to hurry.” He winced.

   My eyes bugged out. “Shit! Think you could’ve called me to warn me so that I could speed it up a bit before you got here?” I hissed, putting the cocktail dress I’d picked out back into my closet. “I don’t even know if I have something fancy enough to—”

   But of course I did. I snapped my fingers and went into the corner of my closet.

   I threw on the same gown I’d worn to the event a few weeks earlier, and as I struggled to pull the zipper up, I began to feel the rush of adrenaline starting to make me frustrated. This date was already starting out a wreck. Less than 10 minutes to get dressed and get to the restaurant for our reservation.

   But then I felt Chuck’s hands at my back, gentle and calm. “Whoa, hold up. You’ll tear the zipper right off.” He chuckled. “Lemme get it.” As he stood there, slowly sliding the zipper up, I felt my nerves mounting.

   I found myself unsettled by just how intimate and natural this moment was. And I realized, I think for the first time since earlier on in the day, that this was a date. A real date. Not just a meet up for sex. We were going out somewhere together.

   What even happened to my whole “no labels” proviso?

   I wasn’t going to back out now, even if I wanted to. And that was just it…I didn’t want to. What I wanted was to see this night out. Enjoy myself.

   I was just a little afraid, admittedly. We were doing this. I was doing this. A fucking date with Chuck Bartowski.

   “Thanks,” I said as he finished and stepped back.

   I was used to quick changes. The amount of 3 am “someone’s been found murdered” calls I got in this job meant getting dressed fast, no matter how tired I was. I had to get to crime scenes as fast as possible, for the victim and their loved ones.

   So we were out the door and in his car soon thereafter. I pulled my wrap around my shoulders and turned to smirk at him as he buzzed around the cars to get us to the restaurant at least somewhat on time. “Hey.”

   “What?”

   “I’ve got my badge in my purse. Still a detective. You’re going a little fast there, cowboy.”

   Chuck winced and glanced at me. “Sorry. I just, you know, I want to make sure we get there on time. Which is totally on me and not on you in the slightest. I really sprang this on you and I’m sorry about that.”

   I shook my head with a chuckle. “It’s okay. We’ll be there on time.”

   When we pulled up to the restaurant, I noticed that the theater where the performance was happened to be right across the street. “Nice placement there, Bartowski,” I said, sending the valet a polite smile as Chuck stopped the car at the curb.

   The man opened the door and extended a hand for me to take. My initial reaction was to wait for Chuck to come around, but I didn’t want to be rude, so I took it and thanked him, letting him help me to my feet.

   Chuck showed up at my side and handed the valet his key. “Thanks very much,” he said, slipping the guy some money before he offered me his arm. “See, the cool thing about this is that the restaurant is kind of in cahoots with the performance center. Which means I can leave my car here until after the show.”

   “Well, you think of everything, don’t you?” I teased, squeezing myself against his side with a warm smile. I slid my hand down to his wrist then and turned it a little to see his watch. Not too bad, we were only five minutes late.

   And it didn’t seem to faze the hostess who took us right to our table with a beaming smile on her face.

   We ordered our wine first off, a nice bottle of red, and waited until it was poured before we turned to face one another.

   “And now…we relax. And enjoy,” Chuck said with a smile. He sighed, looking pleasantly relieved that his plan for our date had worked out so far. I wondered if he thought I’d say no to the concert or something. If he’d worried about my reception to all of this, even after I’d already agreed to an actual date.

   What’s more, the table he’d snagged us was wedged into a corner, away from the other tables in there, which made it feel a little secluded, like we were especially alone here, like I could talk to him without worrying about other people hearing.

   “Thanks for arranging all of this, Chuck,” I said finally, biting back the nerves. God, I really was nervous. I had butterflies in my stomach. And it wasn’t because I didn’t want to be here. It was because I really did want to be here, and the butterflies I was experiencing were Don’t fuck this up butterflies. Typical first date butterflies that you got when you wanted a date to go well.

   It was silly. I knew it was silly.

   Because Chuck and I had fantastic sex pretty regularly, and on occasion, really dirty, rough, mind-blowing sex that made me feel half-insane. And here I was fretting over getting dressed up and sitting in a restaurant with the guy. I’d had his cock in my asshole a few times now, for fuck’s sake.

   “I, uh…really needed a night away. Without having to do any of the work to make it happen.” I gave him a sardonic look.

   “You’re welcome. I want this first date to be a really good one, ya know? Like really, really good. So I thought I might do better if I just went all out.” He made an explosion sound with his mouth, lifting his hands from the table and forming a mushroom cloud with them.

   I giggled. “That so?”

   “Yep.”

   “And…for the next one?”

   I felt something stir in my chest as his features melted a little. He definitely understood the implications there. This date had barely started and I was already saying there would be a next one. I had to get over my terror somehow. Practice makes perfect, right?

   “Maybe something a little more laid back.”

   “Mmm. I like that.”

   “Maybe the beach?”

   “Ooo.”

   “At night.”

   “Even better.”

   “Some coffee. The waves. We can share a blanket…”

   I thought maybe I was grinning a bit too hard when the waiter approached to take our orders. When Chuck ordered the lobster tail, I thought it was fair game for me to get lobster linguini, so that’s what I did. The waiter walked away and I leaned close, nibbling a little on my lip.

   “Hey, we can split the dinner bill by the way? And I don’t mean to be offensive or anything. It’s just…this place is insanely pricey. I was looking at the menu. We both got lobster, and this bottle of wine is easily—”

   “Pffft, Sarah.” He interrupted me and gave me a flat look. “The LAPD is giving me a pretty big paycheck. You know, I’m helping this detective get a hacker off her back.”

   “Are you?” I raised my eyebrow and leaned in, playing along. “This detective…is it a woman?”

   He hummed and nodded slowly.

   “Pretty?”

   Chuck scoffed. “Practically Helen of Troy reincarnated. Is she pretty…what a question.”

   I smiled at him and shook my head. “Now you’re making me a little jealous.”

   “Good. That’s healthy.” He nodded emphatically and I laughed.

   It took me a few moments of deliberation. I didn’t much like the idea of killing the warm mood that had finally settled between us. But we had to talk about his new gig with the LAPD, and we wouldn’t be able to talk during the concert later.

   “Hey…Chuck?” I reached across the table and put my hand on his, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles.

   “Hm?” I could tell he recognized the change in tone, and he eyed me seriously.

   “I want you to know exactly what to expect on Monday, when you start working with us, I mean. What I mean is…Well, they can’t know that you and I are…involved.” He nodded. As I figured, he already knew that part. “It might screw with my reputation as a professional. You know?”

   “No, I totally get that. Might seem a little like favoritism if you pull me into the team instead of your own analyst. Nepotism doesn’t play well…ever.” I smiled and squeezed his hand. “Also wouldn’t make me look great. Like the only reason I got called in is because we’re sexin’ it uuup,” he drawled, winking with a cute wrinkle of his nose.

   I snorted. “I mean, you really couldn’t have been more of a dork right there.”

   “If I tried a little harder, I probably could’ve.”

   Even in the worst moments, this guy had a way of making me laugh. I loved it.

   Our food came and I moved back to let the waiter set our plates down in front of us, watching him walk away before I made eye contact with Chuck again. “Listen, I’ve worked with these guys for a year and a half now, Chuck. I like to think I know ‘em pretty well. They’re all really good detectives. Smart. Quick. Observant. You have to stay off of their radar.”

   He licked his lips thoughtfully and narrowed his eyes, then his face lit up a little. “Kind of like Matt Damon in Ocean’s 11.”

   I raised an eyebrow, squinting at him in confusion. “What does Matt Damon do in Ocean’s 11?”

   “When they’re conning Benedict?” I shook my head, still not seeing where he was going with it. “He has to go in and pretend to be this enforcer guy, make Benedict like him while he’s in there with him, trust him enough to let him walk around in the hallways without a chaperone, and forget about him completely the second they part. Just. Likable. Enough.” He reached over the table and tapped my nose with his finger.

   I sort of remembered the scene he was referencing. “Yeah. Like that. You want them to like you enough to trust you. But when all of this is over, and you walk out of the precinct, they won’t have you stuck in their brains, you know? Like Matt Damon in Ocean’s 11.”

   Chuck nodded and smiled a little. “I think I can do that.”

   “I have faith in you.”

   He softened and turned his hand over to hold mine. “I appreciate that.”

   “And you aren’t getting pulled onto the team because we’re having sex, Chuck. You’re getting pulled onto the team because I have seen the damage you can do with a computer firsthand and I want you—no, I need you on my side. And I need to make sure your helping me is approved by my captain. Above board. So none of us gets in trouble.” I squeezed his hand. “Okay?”

   “Okay.”

   I wasn’t ready to say it to him yet, but having him beside me in this made such a massive difference in my level of confidence. He set me at ease like nothing else.

   We dug into our dinner quickly then, careful about not taking too much time, since the performance started soon. After all of the planning he’d put into this, I didn’t want us missing out on the free concert.

   With the wine and lobster linguini coating my stomach, feeling loose and generally happy, having gotten a bit of tactical stuff out of the way with Chuck while we ate, and ready to just enjoy being with him, I wrapped my fingers around his right arm as we walked out into the cool night air, moving towards the crosswalk.

   People dressed similar to us were slowly making their way towards the entrance, clutching their tickets and handbags and coats. I smiled a little. Things like the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and plays, and musicals, and operas, and ballets…those things had never been much of a draw for me. I liked going to the movies, I liked seeing that one band Bryce had taken me to see in New York City that one time when we took a long weekend vacation there. But this sort of thing meant spending money I didn’t really like spending. A lot of money.

   I was frugal. Too frugal, Carina always said.

   So I felt a bit of a thrill as we walked up the steps and approached the ticket takers. Chuck reached into his inner jacket pocket and produced both of our tickets, handing them to the woman standing at the door.

   As we made our way inside, I let him lead me through the throngs of people with champagne and snacks, and I got a little lost in the beautiful interiors. It looked like an old building, turn of the century perhaps. Gilded details were etched into the pillars. And the ceiling was beautifully intricate with patterns. The windows were large, gaping, letting in the moonlight.

   “Not sure where our seats are,” Chuck admitted into my ear, leaning down so that I felt his breath flutter the hair at my temple. “You want anything first? Champagne? Wine?”

   “No, I’m alright.” I turned to smile up at him. “Maybe at intermission.”

   “We’re on the same page. Let’s go s—” He was interrupted by the dimming of the lobby lights. They flashed on and off a few times. I was rather dazzled by the excitement in his face. “They took the words right outta my mouth.”

   I held onto his arm tightly as we maneuvered our way around the others still milling about, and we ducked into the auditorium, both of us looking around to find numbers and letters that would help us locate our seats.

   “I’m gonna laugh if our seats aren’t next to each other. I didn’t think to look at the tickets,” he said, lifting them up to look. “1 and 2. Well. Those must be next to each other.”

   I giggled. “What letter?”

   “J.”

   We found our seats and I was relieved to discover they were on the left aisle, away from the center, in a little clump of seats that was off to the side by the emergency exit door. Even better, as the lights in the auditorium dimmed, nobody ended up filling the seats right in front of us or to Chuck’s right, or even in the rows behind us.

   I raised an eyebrow at him when he turned to look at me. We both shrugged. Maybe these were special seats or something. Or everyone else was late.

   I didn’t much care as the conductor walked out onto the stage, pushing his wild curly locks out of his face and holding up a hand modestly to wave at the audience as they applauded him raucously.

   Raucous wasn’t exactly the type of mood I’d been expecting from a crowd at a philharmonic orchestra concert, but these people could not get enough as he spoke. He mentioned the repertoire they would be playing and I realized belatedly that neither of us had thought to grab programs. Not that I was all that knowledgable about classical music.

   I didn’t know how much Chuck knew about it.

   Once the conductor finished, he turned and strode up to his podium. And in moments, the music began. The man at the piano played alone, tinkling on the keys, hunched over, his fingers moving in a blur.

   I felt like I was preparing for take-off, whizzing along on some road flanked by flowers and trees, and then as the rest of the instruments began to fold in, the violins and cellos and brass instruments, it was like my feet lifted from the ground.

   The conductor’s movements were mesmerizing, but I still found my eyes drifting shut, listening to the sweet trill of the flutes climbing up, then down. And then it got intense, and my flight was impeded by dark clouds, wind…And back again to the peaceful skies.

   Chuck’s hand gently laid atop mine, squeezing just a little, and instead of bringing me out of my musically induced dream, it made it that much more potent.

   I hadn’t expected to be captured so completely by the music. Granted, I hadn’t exactly walked in automatically assuming I’d hate it. But even as I opened my eyes and watched, it was flooding me with excitement. I was nearly breathless, even.

   I varied between watching the conductor’s swaying torso, his swinging arms, and watching the violinists’ bows dart up and down, up and down, sliding slowly, before darting again.

   How long we sat there, I wasn’t sure. At least twenty minutes I thought. The music almost cacophonous as it flooded the massive room, before slipping back into peaceful, before it ended in a playful strum on the piano keys…like the Fairy Godmother zapping something with her wand. Or something like that.

   But my applause was just as joyous as it seemed everyone else’s was. I spun on Chuck and grinned almost manically at him, glad that he seemed to have enjoyed it just as much. I was suddenly a believer. Classical music was officially on my radar. I was going to dive headfirst into it and explore everything it had to offer.

   Live, however, was just so so much better than hearing it come on the radio. There was so much passion on that stage. And the way the sound bounced off the walls and smacked me right in the chest, sometimes feeling like it was wrapping me in warmth, other times leaving me chilled, shivering.

   Chuck leaned in close and squeezed my hand again. “Good?”

   I gave him a look that very clearly said “Are you kidding me??” and he chuckled. “This is amazing. You need to get tickets to things more often,” I whispered.

   “I, uh, might have to pay for them next time.”

   “Next time I’ll buy,” I responded easily, and I turned my hand over to thread our fingers together.

   But then the next song started, and in spite of it, I couldn’t tear my gaze from his for a little while, letting the song spill over me. It was a light tapping on drums, rhythmic, almost like a soft march or something. And then the smooth sound of some woody instrument—I had no idea which one—eased in, and I squirmed a little in my seat to get more comfortable.

   This was very nice.

   But then Chuck’s eyes popped a little. He leaned in to press his lips to my ear. “Boléro,” he breathed.

   “What?”

   “This is Boléro.”

   I shrugged.

   “Ever see the movie 10?”

   I blinked and then shook my head.

   “That movie cemented this as one of the hottest pieces of music ever written.” I gave him a look of disbelief and he shrugged. “Bo Derek seduces Dudley Moore to it in the movie. As a horndog teenager, I was fascinated by that scene…for obvious reasons…” His voice became even lower as the rest of the orchestra dove into the piece. “I listened to it over and over when I was 15. The rhythm…has such consistency…” I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth a little and let out a slow breath. “And as it continues, it gets a little bit louder…building up to climax…”

   This was wrong. What the sound of his voice was doing to me right then was wrong. And how effective the music was at adding to it was wrong. I felt it right between my legs and I rubbed my thighs together to ease it a little.

   “Keep that in mind.”

   He’d done it on purpose. I knew it.

   I pursed my lips and leaned away from him, propping my elbow on the armrest and putting my chin in my palm. I listened to the slow build of the music. It was so patient, and just as consistent as Chuck had said when he whispered in my ear. Strange how it was so slow and patient…but it was making me feel impatient. My toes curled a little in my heels and I squirmed again.

   Chuck was facing forward, a soft look on his face. I checked him out in my peripheral, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, eyeing the hardness of his jaw, the little dip in his chin, and then I looked away again, curling my toes one more time.

   I slowed my breathing, aware that it had sped up just a little bit as the song progressed.

   Just when I thought I had a handle on it, listening to the music, watching the conductor as he bounced on the balls of his feet, I felt Chuck gently take my hand from where it was in my lap and lay it on the armrest, palm up.

   I forced myself not to look at him as he gently dropped his fingertips onto the center of my palm. He began to stroke my palm gently, his touch so soft that it was like a feather dancing over my sensitive skin.

   Biting my lip a little harder, I squirmed again. But I didn’t pull away. I just enjoyed. And squirmed. And curled my toes. How could such a soft touch make me this hungry? I didn’t understand the nerves in my body, how they reacted this violently to such a small thing.

   Rubbing my thighs together, I was almost painfully aware of just how far along this experience was pushing me. The buzzing between my legs grew so slowly, in time with the build-up of the music.

   Only just barely able to control my breathing, I closed my hand around his mischievous fingers, and then let go, putting both of my hands in my lap. I subtly pushed against my groin with my fists, trying to ease the pressure. But that only increased the tingle behind my belly button.

   The music sped up just a tad more, and my breathing along with it. I squirmed less subtly now, rubbing my thighs again. This was getting almost excruciating. I was a little nervous my panties were wet now, and that somehow it would start to seep through my dress and show or something horrifyingly traumatizing like that.

   I was on the verge of climbing to my feet and leaving as the snare drums got a little louder, more intense. But then Chuck’s hand clamped down on my arm and his lips were at my ear again. “Almost there,” he whispered. “Just give it a second.”

   Oh God, this was not helping.

   Cymbals clashed. The brass instruments became louder. More cymbals.

   I shut my eyes tightly as the last few notes sounded, and as the crowd erupted, I let out a long, relieved breath. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

   I’d been so close to climaxing right here, in front of all of these people. What the fuck was wrong with me?

   I’d just barely held off. I couldn’t imagine what kind of whimpering sigh the people nearby would’ve heard from me if I hadn’t been able to control myself. But God, this felt like torture.

   I turned to glance at Chuck, about to reprimand him or smack his arm or something for doing that to me, for getting me so damn keyed up, and when it was barely intermission. But then I saw the way his own eyes were flashing, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his breathing a little fast. I knew that look.

   He wanted me and he was trying so hard to hide it. Not from me but from everyone else.

   “Want to go get some fresh air?” he asked.

   “Absolutely,” I clipped, and we were up, out of our seats, moving only as quickly as was appropriate. God, I just needed to be away from all of these people. That piece of music had to have been created by the devil or something. It was easily the hottest musical experience I’d ever enjoyed. Did I enjoy it? I mean, I did, but…it felt like I was suffering at the same time.   As we moved through the crowd filing into the lobby, saying our excuse me’s, I felt Chuck’s lips near my ear again. “We still have another half of the show, I know, but would you want t—”

   “Absolutely.”

   We laughed then, together, both of us aware of how ridiculous we were but neither of us caring, considering we were both equally insane.

   It took fifteen whole minutes before we were finally in Chuck’s car, and he sped away from the valet stand and out onto the road. We laughed again and I covered my face. “Did we seriously just do that?” I asked.

   “We seriously did.”

   I thought we were going back to my place to finish what Boléro started. But he turned in the wrong direction.

   I frowned a little, curious. “Where are we going?”

   “It’s going to take too long to get to your place.”

   I bit my lip to keep from preening. Apparently we were both on the same level of desperation. If you’re sliding down the slippery slope into insanity, it’s best to bring someone with you. Did somebody famous say that? It sounded like something some French actress might’ve said at some point.

   “Well, your place is even further.”

   As he drove further west, I knew where we were going. It was a small strip of the beach that never had people there because the sand was rough, rocky, and the waves were a little too choppy. At this time of the night, it’d be totally empty.

   I knew this because we’d met there before.

   Carina had given me the tip, citing it was perfect in the middle of the night. Nobody was there. And I’d texted the location to Chuck, meeting him there after his late Buy More shift.

   Chuck pulled to a stop at the furthest most corner of the small lot only three minutes later, and I was incredibly relieved to discover it as empty as I’d hoped. The moonlight glinted off the water, and we could hear the waves crashing down on the beach as he turned off the engine.

   Grinning like an idiot, I unbuckled my seatbelt and closed the distance between us, leaning over his console, grabbing his face in both of my hands and kissing him hard. It did nothing to ease the desire pooling in my lower stomach. But it still felt really, really good having his lips against mine again.

   He hummed and I felt his hand twist in the material of my gown.

   But then he pulled back. “Mmm mmmwait. Just a second. Get back there and hike up that fancy gown of yours. I’ll be right behind you. Just gotta do somethin’ first…”

   I bit my lip, pecked him on the cheek, and clambered my way into the back, my heels slipping a little. I threw myself onto the backseat and grabbed the hem of the gown, pulling it up and sliding my fingers under the waistband of my panties, pushing them down my legs and dropping them onto the seat next to me.

   I finally scooted up a little on the seat and looked to the front where Chuck was plugging his phone into the sound system. “What are you doing?”

   That was when I realized, he’d turned off the engine, but the battery was still going, because there was a soft tat tattattat tat tattattat tattattattattat tat that I recongized immediately coming out of the speakers, drifting through his car’s interior.

   A slow smile grew on my face as he pointedly looked over his shoulder at me, smirking.

   “Get back here,” I breathed.

   He clambered a little less smoothly than I had over the console to climb into the backseat with me.

   With Boléro playing in the background, I half-yanked him the rest of the way and he fell onto me, his front crashing into mine. We plopped onto the seat, giggling, and I immediately pushed my hand down between our bodies to feel his cock under his tuxedo pants. He was a lot harder than I’d expected.

   Good.

   I squeezed him and he groaned, arching himself against my hand. And then I quickly began to unbutton his pants, unzipping them, desperate to get inside, to feel his hardness in my hand.

   I grappled with his clothes as he propped himself over me, and finally I worked him loose from the confines of his pants and boxers, stroking his cock, flicking his tip with my thumb. He whimpered and reached down to push my dress out of the way, grabbing my legs and bending them at his hips, our bodies squashed against the leather seat, his legs jammed awkwardly against the door.

   And then he was inside of me. One swift stroke had him filling me, buried as deep as possible. I let out a strangled cry and tilted my head back. “Ohh, Chuck, yesss.”

   Chuck thrusted slow and long, my ass lifting off the seat as I reached up to slam my hands against the door and brace myself. I found my footing and arched against him, then slipped because of my heels. I let out a soft squeak of surprise and he stopped, giving me a look.

   “Okay, well…that’s different,” he murmured.

   I giggled so hard that a tear squeaked out of the corner of my eye and dripped down into my hair. “Sorry,” I panted. “My heels don’t grip well.”

   He chuckled. “Want me to take them off?”

   “Not particularly.”

   He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and then chuckled again. “You like doing it in heels, don’t you?”

   I grumbled at him and reached up to push the tuxedo jacket off of his shoulders. I figured I was helping him out, since I suspected he didn’t much want to tear his tuxedo. It looked and felt expensive.

   He helped me, tugging it off, tossing it in the front seat, before diving in again, wrapping his hands around my thighs and drilling into me hard.    “Hnng!” I threw my head back and held onto the door again, pushing myself into his thrusts.

   The music became a little louder, a little more desperate, and I slapped a hand onto his back, clinging, my nails digging into his back over his shirt as I bucked against him. “Oh, God, Chuck. Yes! Talk to me,” I panted. “I wanna hear your voice while you fuck me.”

   As the piece continued in the background, Chuck lowered himself down so that his lips brushed my ear. He bit it between his teeth and I whimpered.

   “You feel so good,” he said in my ear, his voice so very deep and filled with unfiltered lust. “I love being inside of you.”

   “Oh yes!” I cried out, moving against him a little more roughly, causing him to groan. I slid my hand down to grab his ass, then moved it to his hip, stopping him. Then I braced my heel against the door, wedging it under the handle, and I began to thrust hard against him as he stayed still.

   He growled. And in the same tone said, “Fuck, you’re so strong, Sarah. You’re so strong and powerful.”

   This. This was my poetry. Listening to this man tell me how strong and powerful he thought I was. As I fucked him from below. Watching the ecstasy on his face. Feeling my climax approaching. I wanted to turn us over and pleasure him until he begged me to stop.

   And my desperation to do just that was mounting as the crescendo of the music mounted.

   He shifted to the side a little and tucked his arm between us. Suddenly I felt his fingers against my clitoris. “Oh shit! Yes! Touch me!”

   “I love watching you come for me,” he panted. “You’re so beautiful when you climax.”

   He rubbed my clit as I swung myself up to slam repeatedly against his groin, burying his cock deep, deep inside of my pussy. I came with a high pitched whimper, turning my face against my arm and biting myself as the ecstasy spilled over me.

   “Turn over,” I panted. “Turn over.”   It was a struggle, and he slipped out of me in the meantime, but we finally managed to less than gracefully switch positions, so that his long-limbed figure was splayed out on the seat beneath me. I tugged at his pants and boxers til they were at his ankles so that he could bend his legs and get comfortable, and then I hoisted my gown up around my ribcage and let him position his cock so that all I had to do was lower myself to take him back inside of me.

   “Ohhh yes!” I gasped. “Chuck!” My voice caught in my throat as he grabbed my hips and arched himself so deeply into me that our bodies jerked.

   Then he put one of his hands flat on my back and pulled me down so that he could kiss me. I dropped my chest to his, letting him cradle me, and then he began to thrust up into me, fast and hard, our bodies slapping.

   “Nnng,” I whimpered into his lips. “Oh oh oh! Ohhh yes!” I pressed my lips to his jaw and bit him. “Fuck!”

   He grunted, reaching down to tuck his hands up under my dress and holding my ass in his hands, squeezing, parting my cheeks, running his finger over my asshole teasingly.

   “Oh!” I grinned and pushed my hands into his hair. “You’re amazing, Chuck! God you’re so amazing!”

   He dipped his finger into my asshole then, just the tip of it and my hips jerked into his, pushing him against my g-spot. I cried out and climaxed again, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as I yelped his name.

   I could feel my fingers tighten in his hair, and I heard his verbal wince.

   But he kept fucking me, his hips never losing speed or strength. “S-Sarah!” he grunted. “Talk dirty to me, baby. I want to hear it!”

   I couldn’t help but grin into his throat, my teeth grazing his Adam’s apple, and I moved to bite his chin, earning a grin back. Who was I to say no to a request like that?

   Dropping my forehead to his, I whimpered over and over, making sure he knew just how good he was making me feel. And then I grit my teeth, and threw them, I said in a voice strangled with pleasure, “You’re such a good fuck!”

   He slowed his thrusts just a little, grabbing my ass and yanking me down against his long, rough strokes. The sound of our lower bodies meeting put me in such a heat.

   “I wanna fuck you ’til you can’t take it anymore,” I gasped.

   The music felt like it was a little louder now, filling the inside of his car, washing over us.

   “Put your finger in my ass!” He did and I threw my head back, groaning. “All the way!” He went as far as he could, and with his long fingers, that was really damn far. “Oh yes! I love you in my holes!”

   “You’re such a bad girl,” he groaned, still swinging his hips against mine, fucking me from underneath.

   “That’s right!” I gasped. “Oh yeah! I’m a bad girl! I need a spanking!”

   He brought the hand that wasn’t fingering my ass around and slapped my cheek. Over and over again. It stung, each slap stinging worse than the last. And as I yanked his hair, the climax of the song hit, the cacophony of sound, the loud crashing of the cymbals. His sperm spilled into me, filling me up, shooting through me.

   He slapped my ass hard one last time and then held on, his hand feeling so nice and cool against my hot, stinging skin.

   “Arghhh! Oh yeah Sarah!” He humped me a few more times until he was empty, and then he flopped back down to the seat, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. Come to think of it, I was hot too. The inside of the car felt like it was sweltering. I was fine with it. This was more than worth it.

   I didn’t want to move from where I sat, his cock still inside of me even though he was spent for now.

   We were both breathing hard, our bodies molded together, clinging, and I felt his lips against my hair as he pulled me in for a tight hug. “I couldn’t tell,” he said, his voice breathless. “Did you finish with me?”

   I shook my head, then realized I needed to try to use my words even if I still hadn’t caught my breath. “No, but—I came twice. I’m okay.” The fact that he was even worried about it made me chuckle.

   “Maybe I should do something about that.”

   I smiled and turned my face to kiss his jaw, pushing myself up to let him see just how happy this had made me. I felt amazing. “It isn’t necessary. I don’t have to finish when you do.”

   He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “No, I know. I know that but…” He took a few calming deep breaths. “It’s been a speck of time since I’ve tasted you, Detective Gumshoe,” he said in a lazy, Texan drawl.

   Since when had a Texas accent turned me on?? It hadn’t. Not before this. But damn, the slow smile on his face, the look in his eye. He really did want to taste me. He wasn’t simply being the usual selfless lover. He wanted my pussy against is mouth.

   Fuck, that was gratifying.

   I kissed his lips softly, and ever so gently licked over his lips. He took the hint and opened his mouth, our tongues meeting. I cradled his head in one hand and gripped onto his shoulder with the other before gently pulling away again.

   “That was really nice, but not what I meant,” he teased quietly.

   I laughed and dropped my forehead to his shoulder, feeling that giddiness that sometimes went along with being around him. Then I slowly pulled back, letting his cock slip out of my folds and I sighed, the ache between my legs palpable.

   Chuck sat up and eyed the seat critically, looking at the console, then back at the seat.

   “What are you doing?” I asked, amused and curious.

   “Strategizing. This isn’t a very big space.” Meanwhile, he reached down to fix his boxers and pants, grunting with the effort and making me giggle. He was so damn cute and tall and lanky. Not that anybody else would be any less clumsy in such a small space.

   Then he narrowed his eyes. “Got it. Scooch.”

   I snorted and moved to press against the door as he laid in the middle of the seat, his head propped on the console so that his torso was like a bridge between the front and back of the car, his legs sticking up over the seat back and pressing against the back window. It didn’t look very comfortable. And I said as much.

   “Chuck, you’re gonna lose all the blood in your lower half.”

   “Not if I’m quick about it.” He winked and I bit my lip. “Hop on, beautiful.”

   I grinned and shook my head at him, and with one last roll of my eyes, I climbed over to straddle his shoulders, facing the back window of his car, nearly laughing at how long and akimbo his legs looked hanging over the seat, jammed against the glass awkwardly.

   Then I lowered myself so that I was sitting on his face, his head propped on the console, finally reaching up to grab the headrests of each front seat on either side of me.

   He licked me once, before he dove in. My eyelids fluttered and I hummed, listening, feeling.

   My dress fell down around his face, trapping him underneath pressed up against my sex, but he still ate me out with a God damn fury.

   “Oh shit!” I gasped. I swore, every time I thought he couldn’t get any better, he did. He was building me up to a climax fast. I began to gyrate, riding his face, my knuckles going white as I squeezed the headrests.

   “That’s it, Chuck. Oh God. Deeper,” I whimpered. “Go deeper, baby.”

   His tongue eased inside of me and my hips jerked in pleasure. I let out a long breath, tilting my head back, trying not to bump it against the ceiling.

   And when he began to suck, nibbling on my labia, licking at my cum, I felt myself halt right on the edge of an orgasm.

   “I’m almost there. Oh I’m almost there. Yes! Yes! YESSSS OHHH GODDD!” My thighs spasmed and I squeezed his head between them, coming into his mouth as he lapped at me like his life depended on it.

   I stayed there for a bit, letting him lick at me gently, and probe me with his tongue a little more, enjoying the way he was teasing me, capturing my clit between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue. Until I finally climbed off of him and flopped back onto the seat, reaching down for my panties and sliding them up my legs.

   Chuck needed my help climbing down from his awkward perch, and I nearly got a knee to my face for my efforts, laughing it off when he apologized profusely. And then I was in his arms, and we just stayed there, our voice low as we chatted. It was all trivial. Nothing of consequence. Nothing about the case. Just giggling, teasing.

   He told me the plot points of 10, which sounded like a legitimately pointless and strange movie, though I didn’t point that out to him for fear I’d offend him or something. And I told him about the Lifetime movie I’d watched the other morning about a con artist trophy wife turned killer.

   And with every moment that passed, I found myself feeling more and more…at home.

   I was so wrapped up in the peacefulness of all of it that I didn’t even realize it was happening. So there was no fear or panic. Just that ever present feeling of safety and warmth.

Notes: If you haven't had sex to Maurice Ravel's Boléro, you really should try it sometime. Trust me. It sounds really corny. But there's something hypnotic and magical about that piece of music. The way it's structured, how consistent it is, the way it builds even as it keeps its pattern the same the whole way through. But that climax at the end...if you can time it right.... Anyway, TMI. Hope some of you benefit from my tip. :-)

More coming soon. May be some more Partners in Arms soon as well. I'm working on something that came to me the other night. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.
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Just A Game