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Two Weeks In Miami	By : blackbear355 Category: 1 through F > CSI: Miami Views: 1436 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI MIAMI or any of it's characters. I do not make any money from writing this story. I do not own the character of MacGyver. The characters of Julie and her family belong to me.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
CHAPTER NINE
WARNING: Explosive sexual activity and language on this page. If this offends you, do not go any farther.
March 31, 1995 (Friday)

JULIE'S NINTH DAY IN MIAMI

DINNER OUT AND A BROKEN CONDOM
Horatio got out of bed, showered, and went to work early. He was out and gone by 6:00 AM, and Julie did not get out of bed until 7:30. Once more, she did not take the bus anywhere. Instead, she prepared a light breakfast, ate, washed the dishes, then cleaned the bathroom as best she could with that infernal cast on her leg. With a spurt of energy, she scrubbed the toilet, cleaned the sink, washed down the walls and the mirror over the sink, then went back to bed. intending to mop the floor and wipe down the chrome later. She slept until noon, with Care Bear Brandon in her arms.
She ate a piece of toast for lunch, then took the crutches for a stiff-legged walk outside, around the apartment complex, contemplating going down to the shore, but decided not to make the quarter-mile trek from the patio of Horatio's apartment. When she got back inside the apartment, she sat at the kitchen table, and did some writing. Then she rose up out of her chair to stretch, and ambled around the apartment. She was getting along fairly well without the crutches now. Her leg felt much better, braced, and secure in the cast. She sang softly to herself. She spent three hours on her back on the living room floor with her right leg elevated, while she read one of Horatio's detective manuals, until she finally dropped off to sleep.

***********************************************************
When Horatio arrived at police headquarters, and sauntered into his office with his second cup of coffee for the morning, he found a stack of reports waiting for him on his desk. He checked his phone messages and returned some phone calls.
Later in the morning, he discovered the darker side of the entertainment industry, as a rather well-known rock celebrity had been found murdered in his hotel room, in what looked to be a botched robbery attempt. The room was in disarray, and there were definite signs of a struggle. There were three stab wounds on the victim, two to the chest, and one to the left rib cage. Evidence pointed to the entertainer entering his hotel room while the robbery was in progress, and paying the price for his lack of tardiness.
The hotel room looked like a tornado had ripped through it. The blanket was pulled off the bed, mattress was half off the bed, drawers were pulled out of the dresser and overturned, clothing was strewn all over the floor, the bedside lamp had been hurled across the room as if in anger, and had shattered against the opposite wall. Whoever had ransacked the room had added murder to his repertoire. The medical examiner was on the scene by the time Horatio arrived.
Horatio spent most of the afternoon interviewing witnesses and associates of the victim. The six people he talked to were the maid, the man who had checked into the room next door to the celebrity's room and who had heard the sounds of a scuffle in the next room, a woman who had been walking down the hall and had seen a man go into the room, the manager of the front desk, the rock singer's manager, and the celebrity's road agent.
He preferred to conduct each interview privately, to ensure that each of the witnesses would not be influenced by anything the other five had said. He liked to minimize distractions, so he generally took the witnesses into a favorite room he chose in the rear of the building, in a corner.
Incredibly, all six interviewees described the same man lingering at the front desk and later upstairs on the third floor, outside the room where the robbery/murder had occurred. All agreed that the man had black curly short hair, was about five feet and eight inches tall, was wearing blue jeans and a black tee shirt, and had a tattoo of a half moon with roses on his left forearm.
Horatio was a master at interviewing witnesses. He knew how to put them at ease. Emotions and stress could play a big part in any type of interrogation, and Horatio sometimes had a difficult time evaluating nervous witnesses, so he usually started the interrogation casually, with nonthreatening conversation. This seemed to have a calming effect on the person being interviewed. By defusing negative feelings and reinforcing positive ones, Horatio could deal with the emotions exhibited by the interviewee.
His questions he posed to witnesses of a crime were designed to obtain facts to complete an accurate report. Most of the time, he prepared areas of inquiry in a general way to keep the interview flowing, rather than adhering to a certain set of rules. He had long since discovered he obtained better results that way. If the interviewee tried to digress from the questions he asked, he taught himself to stay in control, and steer the line of questioning back in the proper direction for best results.
Many good interviewers took brief notes to allow themselves to recall important details that were revealed during the interview. However, Horatio's mind was like a steel trap, and he could recall the details at a moment's notice, sometimes days after the interview was over.
He always maintained good eye contact with the person, and was a very good listener, and this indeed carried over into his personal life. He was exceptionally clever at focusing on what was being said, as well as how it was being said. He never looked ahead to subsequent questions, and he never began to analyze an answer before the person finished.
Following the interviews, Horatio repaired to his office immediately, to write a summery. This helped him to recall important information should questions arise later, sometimes months later.
By the late afternoon, the search was on for the suspect. Thus went Horatio's busy day.

***********************************************************
When Horatio came home from work that evening, Julie was sitting on the living room floor with that ratty black wig that he so detested, and she was brushing it out on a newspaper. She was singing a noiseless song to herself.
"Hello, hello," he greeted her. He went into the bathroom for a few minutes, leaving the door open, flushed, then came back out to the living room, loosening the top button of his shirt as he did so.
Her silence was deafening.
"What's up, kiddo?" Julie didn't answer right away, so he coaxed her to acknowledge him. He went into a crouching position next to her. "Talk to me, sweetheart."
She smiled toward the wig she was working on, but still said nothing.
"I know who needs that," he persisted, pointing at the wig with his pinky. "Give it to my boss."
"Why? Is he bald?" Her voice gave him no indication that she was still annoyed with him.
"Yeah. He doesn't have any."
"Maybe he thinks too much."
Horatio was thrilled that she wasn't going to give him the silent treatment of two nights before.
"How's your leg feel?"
"Heavy. But it is better, snug, more secure. Protected. And it does not hurt like it did before. It no longer feels like it might fall off." She rose from the floor stiffly, and swung her leg back and forth.
Horatio rose from his crouch, and watched her as she took the wig into the bathroom.
A few minutes later, when she emerged from the bathroom and hobbled into the living room on her crutches, the hideous thing was on her head, and braided.
Horatio grimaced at the sight of it. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and said, "Can you find a new home for that thing?" He indicated the frightful piece of synthetic on her head. "I hope you're not thinking of wearing it when we go out to dinner."
She looked at him quizzically. "Dinner? When?"
"Tonight, if you're up to it, babe." His eyebrows lifted.
"I didn't know we were going out this night." She was surprised, and gave him a toothy smile.
"Mm hm," he nodded and hummed.
She stood quietly for a moment, contemplating his shoes. "Horatio, can we make love tonight?" She asked, plaintively. "I need to--be--close to you--again."
"I don't see why not." A warm feeling crept up his body, at the thought of her wanting him. He leaned over her, and planted a kiss on the top of her head.
"Sweetheart, tell me, where did you go today? Did you have fun?" His hands were on his hips.
"I did, laddie. I went nowhere. I stayed here. I gave my leg some time to rest."
"Hm."
"I did some writing, and brushed out this wig." She gave her head a pert toss, and the braids swayed.
"You're not still mad at me, are you? Are we okay?" His look was imploring.
"No, I am not. And yes, we are. I mean--no, I am not mad at you."
"I couldn't help but notice, the bathroom is cleaner, huh."
"Maybe a giant mouse came through." She twirled one of her braids around.
"Or, maybe a fastidious girlfriend. Thank you, honey."
Horatio's thoughts took a different direction. "Do you always stay with a man on your vacations?"
"You are the first," she admitted. "This is the first vacation I have had in a very long time. I usually take my children with me." She moved her crutches back and forth slowly.
"What about their father? Is he in the picture?" His head tilted down to her.
Julie leaned into her crutches and shook her head with a solemn air. After a pause, she said, "He is not. It was smooth sailing for awhile, but when things got a little unpleasant, he was nowhere to be found." She found a spot on the carpet suddenly very interesting. She chewed her bottom lip.
"So he's in the wind?"
"He always was." Her face was melancholy for a moment, and she continued to stare at the floor. "If that is what being married is like, it is something I can do without." Her face had a faraway look. "I guess I am afraid to try again," she confided. "My family thinks I am not afraid of anything." Her finger curled around a strand of black hair.
He waited for her to continue.
She said, almost as an afterthought, "If I ever suspected someone wanted to marry me, I would be in the wind."
Horatio looked at her intently with bowed head, but said nothing. His eyes flickered to the floor.
Suddenly happy again, she enthused, "This is turning out to be the strangest holiday--I mean vacation--I ever had. Meeting you was not in my plans, but it has been a good thing."
"Better than staying in a hotel room?"
"Most definitely," she nodded toward Brandon Care Bear, sitting silently on the back of the sofa. "And my wee bear likes it here, as well."
"I--um--I look forward to someone being at home for me when I get off work," Horatio admitted.
Julie smiled shyly at Horatio, and he did the same at her.
"And I like being here for you when you do--uh--get home from work, I mean." She hobbled into the bedroom to change her clothes, and to get ready for their dinner date.
She threw the wig onto the bed, and brushed her hair, put on a brown skirt with matching beaded belt, matching sandals, and a white blouse, and came back out to the living room, with a yellow flower barrette in her hair.
Horatio entered the bedroom and changed from his suit into a clean pair of blue jeans and a blue tee shirt, then came back to the living room to join her.
He looked at her with approval. "Mm-hm. Nice," he said. "Pretty flower."
"I call it Betty," she quipped. She started to move toward the kitchen, and he stopped her with his hand.
"Piper." He raised his hand to her flower. "May I?"
"Be gentle, Horatio." She stood still for him.
"As always." He rearranged the flower barrette in her hair.
How she did love the touch of his fingers.
"Gonnu take your crutches?" He noticed she had left them in the bedroom.
"No."
"Ready?" He asked.
"I am."
"Let's go." He took a moment to light his cigarette, knowing well he would smoke only half of it.
Julie reached for her toothache pain pills, which were lying on the kitchen counter. She put them into her backpack.
"For the tooth?"
She watched him as he took a puff, and blew the smoke out slowly. "Might I borrow your cigarette?"
He gave her a drag off his cigarette, also for the toothache. She puffed on it, blew the smoke out without swallowing, and handed the cigarette back to him.
"The smoke helps to alleviate some of the pain," she explained.
"It's the nicotine--it paralyses the nerves--puts 'em to sleep. It's a natural pain killer."
"Here. Want another one?" He offered it to her.
No. Once is enough."
"Let's go eat." He held the door open for her, and locked it after she joined him outside.

***********************************************************
On the way to the restaurant, Julie displayed her customary silence, until finally, she asked, in a small voice, "Horatio?" And that was all she said.
He looked over at her, wondering if he had simply imagined that she had said his name. "Hm," he hummed.
"Do you ever walk out in the middle of your dates?"
What a strange thing to ask, but Horatio was getting accustomed to her odd questions, and the turnings of her mind. So he answered, "Huh--well--I--uh--no, I can't say that I have." He glanced her way. "And I'll tell you something, honey."
Her glance told him he had her full attention, so he continued. "I wouldn't walk out if I was with a girl as sexy as you are."
"Horatio!" Her redness crept up her cheeks, and caused him amusement.
"How about you? D'you ever walk out on a date?" His grin was infectious.
"Not that I recall." After a pause, she went on. "I went out with a man once, and he robbed me, he took my purse, and he threw me out of his car on the New Jersey turnpike."
"Whoa, that couldn't have been much fun." Horatio blinked and licked his lips. "Was that your first date?"
"It was not." Julie laughed silently. "I WILL have to say that it was not my BEST date." She laughed again, and explained, "I had to walk home. It was a long way, and it was very dark outside, you see. I walked through the Jersey tunnel. I walked through the countryside. I walked down the highway. I walked through a town, but everything was closed. It was endless, the walking. I was many miles from home. There was rain, and I remember a lot of lightning in the sky. It was past midnight."
"Not the best time for a young girl to be out alone, huh." Horatio sounded sympathetic.
"I was afraid mostly of being struck by lightning. I did not want that, for then my babies would be little orphans, you see."
"I take it you made it home okay?"
"A kind woman stopped her car, and gave me a ride all the way to New Rochelle, and from there, I was able to take a train up to Connecticut--to Bridgeport."
"Ah, the ol' Red Eye Express."
"And I called my uncle, and he came for me, and took me home. Will you stop at that bookstore, there? I will only take a minute."
Horatio slowed, and pulled into the bookstore parking lot.
"Maybe they will have the sheet music I am looking for." She gazed at the large owl figurine perched above the door of The Professor Owl Bookstore and Smoke Shop.
He parked, and she opened the car door. At the same time, he opened his own door, obviously intending to accompany her into the bookstore.
"Are you going in with me?"
"I wouldn't miss it." He raised his eyebrows at her, twice in rapid succession, and she tittered.
Inside the bookstore, Julie searched for the sheet music for "Una Paloma Blanca", but failed to find it there. They browsed for a little while, and she discovered a book about dairy farming, called "Breeding Practices of Dairy Cattle in the United States", a vintage paperback that had been printed about sixty years before. She bought it for her dad, who loved Brown Swiss cattle. In it were several photographs of different breeds of dairy cattle. She showed Horatio the pictures of a Brown Swiss cow and a bull, and told him her family had raised Brown Swiss cattle when they came over from Ireland and settled in Massachusetts.

***********************************************************
At the restaurant, Julie insisted on taking a booth next to the wall, instead of a table. She also was adamant about sitting next to Horatio, rather than across the booth from him, although he would have preferred she sit opposite from him, so he could see her. She slid in after him, so that he sat on the inside, and he was quick to notice that she sat closer to him than she really needed to, which was more than okay with him. Impulsively, he lowered his head and gave her a kiss on the side of her head, next to her flower barrette, which elicited a delightful response from her, so he put his left arm around her shoulders, and pulled her even closer to himself.
She put her right arm on his left leg, and let it rest there, and she leaned over to rub her face affectionately against his left ear. She inspected her right leg closely under the table, unabashedly pulling up her skirt to do so. The movement caught Horatio's eye, and he watched closely.
The waitress dropped off two menus, and neither Horatio nor Julie said anything for a few minutes, while they decided what each would order.
"You ready to order, babe?" He lay his menu down in front of him, and folded his hands under his chin.
"I think I might have the chicken fried steak with the green beans."
"Good. Then maybe after dinner, I can take you home to bed." The words rolled off his tongue before he could stop them.
Julie didn't hesitate. "Or, we could dispense with the dinner, and go directly home to bed." She stuck her nose into her menu and didn't look at him. He imagined that she was probably blushing at her own words.
After they had ordered their meal, Horatio cleared his throat, as though he wanted to say something, but was hesitant. Finally, he said, "With all due respect, Piper, you are not like any other girl I've ever met."
She wasn't sure what to say, or exactly what he meant, so after a bit of thought, she responded with, "That is probably true, because I am not a girl. I am a woman."
He stayed silent, suddenly interested in the bottle of ketchup sitting next to the wall. He picked it up to inspect the label.
"You need women in your life, Horatio, not girls."
"Excuse me?" He replaced the ketchup bottle to it's place.
"You deserve better than just girls."
Horatio didn't know quite how to respond to Julie's words, so it took him a minute to say anything. "So--you think I should seek out women instead? You mean like--older women?" He grabbed a sugar packet, and turned it over and over in his hands, nervously.
"Or, at least, women your own age." She nodded her head with a look of intent. She gave him a critical look and continued. "You need someone who is not full of herself. Someone who will consider YOUR needs, not just her own. Someone who has lived long enough to grow up, and gotten all the foolishness out, and knows what life is about. But still young enough to give you a good roll in the sheets, and--and be a good companion to you, and even get silly with, and laugh with sometimes."
Horatio looked down at the table, listening. Then he lifted his eyes to hers.
She met his eyes head on. "She is out there, Horatio. You just have not found her yet." She gave him a direct look of total honesty, and a nod of confidence.
"Well--um--I'm--uh--I'm not so sure about that. I'm not really looking--anymore--" He wanted to tell her that SHE was the one. He also wanted desperately to tell her of his bisexuality, but he was afraid. He was scared she would think him disgusting, not worthy of her attentions, afraid she might turn away from him. So he kept still.
Julie looked away, and blushed. She hoped she hadn't been too straightforward, and pushy.
"No need to blush," he teased her. "You're a beautiful girl--um--woman."
This, or course, caused her to blush even more, and she placed her hand over her face and lowered her head.
Horatio chuckled and stroked her right leg with his left hand.
"Well, I know one thing, Horatio." She removed her hand from her face and looked up at him.
His head tilted toward her. "What would that be?"
"Who else but me could be this much trouble to you? As I have been." She gently rubbed his left side, and jiggled him a little. "And still, you let me stay."
"That is true."
"For going to the hospital, and--and staying with me. And for paying for my medication. That was not necessary, but thank you. I did appreciate it."
"That--that is what I do--for people that I care about." His eyelids down, he regarded her in silence.
Julie suddenly lifted her skirt again, and inspected her leg more closely, under the table, and Horatio watched when she did. It never failed to amaze him how impulsive she could be, doing things without any warning, and not seeming to care what anyone else thought.
"It itches," she told him, as she rubbed her fingers over the fiberglass cast.
As they inspected her lovely blue cast, she told him about a pekingese her aunt had once owned, that broke his leg running down the stairs. He flipped over, and landed at the bottom of the staircase on his front leg, snapping it neatly. Her aunt rushed the little dog, whose name was Pooky, to the veterinarian, and then brought him home with a cast on his right front leg. Two weeks later, little Pooky came racing down the same flight of stairs, and at the exact same place, flipped over as though in slow motion, crashed down the stairs head over tail, and broke his other front leg, the left one. Then he had two casts on, and he became quieter, because he could hardly move at all. Julie remarked that she considered herself much more lucky than that pekingese. Pooky was a lot of fun, but he was not really the smartest dog she had ever met. Horatio chuckled at her story.
The waiter came with their food, and while they were eating, she asked him about his college days in New York. Their meal was eaten leisurely, and Julie fell silent, while Horatio talked--about the tests he had to take to become a homicide detective, about his working on the bomb squad, about his special friend, his mentor--Al Humphries, who trained him on the bomb squad.
Julie noticed days ago that Horatio was reluctant to talk much about his personal history, his family, or his background. She thought it a bit strange, but accepted it, deciding that when, and if, he chose to talk about his past, it would be in his own time--and, after all, she was leaving in a matter of days, and she was sure they would not see each other again. So, she surmised, it mattered little whether he wanted to reveal much about his private life to her.
After their meal was finished, and the dishes had been removed, the two of them sat quietly, just enjoying each other's company, each lost in his or her own thoughts. They watched the other people come and go out of the restaurant. Horatio ordered another cup of coffee, and the waitress poured it for him.
Horatio asked Julie more about her college studies up in Alaska, and she told him about the time she had spent in Fairbanks, singing at The Igloo Lounge on Friday afternoons and evenings, some of the people she had met there, the places she had seen, and she mentioned that she wouldn't mind to someday continue her studies in the Animal Science field.
Two young women in their mid-twenties walked by Horatio and Julie's table on their way out the door. Julie and Horatio both looked them up and down. She noticed him looking, and he lowered his head with a blush, and she was amused by this.
She said to him, "There are a lot of nice-looking babes here in Miami. If I were a man, I would probably---" Suddenly she stopped talking, and it was her turn to blush, as he looked at her with surprise.
"I mean--uh--of course, they cannot compare to the girls of County Kerry, with their black, beautiful hair, and their soft, wonderful complexions."
Horatio continued to look at her with a deep expression.
Julie recovered her moment of embarrassment, and stammered a quickly-thought up excuse. "I--I need to find a girlfriend for my brother."
"Where is he?"
"Connecticut."
"What's he doing up there?" Horatio turned his body so he could face Julie without turning his head.
"He is there looking for a boyfriend for his sister, who is visiting Miami right now. He is a fireman."
"Do me a favor, and tell him his sister already has a boyfriend--okay?" His sapphire eyes bored into hers.
"You are not my boyfriend," she declared, but only in a half-exasperated tone.
"Maybe I wannu be." Horatio was serious.
Julie acquiesced. "Well--that would be nice." She moved her head away from his eyes.
They observed a man and a woman with two little girls who came in and sat down at a booth across the aisle and two tables down from them. The parents were dressed professionally, as though they had just gotten off work, and picked up the two little girls from day care, perhaps. Julie commented that it wasn't easy raising children if both parents had to work.
Horatio mentioned in passing that he wouldn't do it. Having a child would interfere with his job, he felt, and would disrupt his life. After he said that, she got very quiet and thoughtful. He realized his words may have come out wrong, and perhaps sounded a little harsh.
What he meant to say was, he didn't think HE could do it. He thought that she, as a single mother, probably had a rough time of it, juggling her work with raising a family alone. It would be a tremendous responsibility, even if one parent (the mother) stayed at home. He admired anyone who could do it by themselves.
Julie didn't agree, and told him so. She admitted that she came from a large family, and would be only too happy to be able to raise her children alone, without her family interfering--aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, even outsiders, all telling her how to feed them, how to discipline them, what clothing to buy for them, where she should send them to school, even what books she should let them read.
He tried to question her further, curious about her family, and she became very quiet, and involved with her empty pudding cup.
Julie grabbed her pack, and stood up suddenly. He took that as a signal that she was ready to leave. As they walked out of the restaurant toward his car, the heavens opened up with a brisk downpour.
Soon after they got home, while Julie was in the bedroom, Horatio answered the telephone. Once again, the call was for someone named Julie. This time, Julie heard the phone ring from the bedroom, and went to investigate. She took the receiver from him, so that was how he found out that Piper was just her nickname, and Julie was her real name.
While she was talking to her sister on the phone, he was looking at some of her writings strewn about on the kitchen table. They looked like college papers, or manuscripts that she was writing. A piece of correspondence with her name on it just happened to be lying there, next to her pencil sharpener, and he looked at it. He couldn't help noticing her real name written on the back of the envelope--Julie Anne MacGyver. He wondered how she got the rather unusual nickname of Piper, and why she preferred it over her real name, which, to him, was much more beautiful. He was also curious as to why she had kept it from him for nine days.
While she continued on the phone, he went to take a shower, then stretched out on the bed to wait for her. He thought about the conversation at dinner. Apparently, something was going on with her family that had her on edge--something she didn't want to talk about. And yet, on the drive back to his apartment, her sullen mood had disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.
Lying in bed, he thought about her name. He had been somewhat surprised to learn of it in such a way, but there were a lot of layers to her, and he knew by now that the things she wanted him to know, she would tell him in her own time. He was also thinking about what she had told him over dinner, about knowing older women, as opposed to younger ones. This was a concept he had never considered, before. He had always assumed that the man should be older than the woman, and it was an idea that had been with him since he was in his twenties, and he had never questioned it. In his mind, he began to question it now. And for all his pondering as he lay there, it still never occurred to him that Piper, now Julie, could be anything more than in her mid-thirties.
Waiting for her, he thought about another of their conversations at dinner. Julie assumed he was heterosexual. Horatio first discovered his own bisexual tendencies in his early high school years. At his present age, he preferred women over men, maybe because society expected him to, but he could also be attracted to males. After years of despising himself, and trying to hide from the truth, he had finally come to terms with his sexual preferences, and learned how to deal with it in his own way. He didn't completely understand it, but he had learned to live with it. Not many knew of his preference, and he had lost several girlfriends when they found him out. So he just didn't talk about it to anyone. After a few short-lived encounters with men, he learned to admire from a distance. He fantasized. He had come to realize that his preference was for women, but the sight of a well-muscled, attractive male could still capture his attention.
He wasn't at all sure he wanted to tell Julie, or even should, since she would be leaving in a matter of days. He didn't want her to turn away from him, or despise him, when they had so little time left together.
Horatio listened to her in the kitchen, talking to her sister, and she sounded happy. He was glad she had forgiven him, and she seemed to be in good spirits. He lay naked on his back, with his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling, as he listened to her movements and her voice, loving the sound of her, the slight brogue, the turning of phrases as she talked.
Outside, the rain increased, and Horatio listened as it fell onto the roof and hissed softly on the window sill across the room from his bed.
From bits of the conversation he heard from the other room, her mare had given birth to a blue roan filly, and she wanted the new arrival to be well taken care of until she could return home.
Julie hung up the phone, then went into the bathroom to get washed up. She came to bed, very happy, and talked about her new little blue filly.
"Blue? Blue roan?" He looked up at her quizzically.
"Yes, Horatio." She smoothed the blankets neatly at the foot of the bed, as her eyes took in his magnificent body.
She explained to him, "A blue roan is a mixture of black hairs and white. Viewed from a distance, the horse has a blue cast to the coat, due to the mix of black and white hair. The more white hairs are mixed with the black, the more blue it looks."
"Julie?" He teased, with one eyebrow up. "Not Piper?"
"Well, Horatio," she teased him right back. "If you were to find out everything about me, there would be no mystery left." She pulled a condom out from under his pillow, where she kept two or three in storage, and presented it to him.
He handed it back to her. "No, no--I want you to put it on." He turned onto his side, head propped up on his hand.
His hand flicked over her stomach, and she took it, and slowly, leisurely, laid it on her breast. A quiver went through him. She licked his belly, and slowly moved downward, in a circular motion. She was very careful with her cast on her right leg.
"I want you to take some time to peel the banana," he said in a coaxing way.
"I will do this easy and slow," she purred, her tongue flicking over his awakening manhood. She smiled at his description of what he wanted her to do. She pulled and sucked on him until he was stiff and upright.
"Don't stop, baby." He wanted her to tongue him more, but she was ready to take him inside her, and he knew he was going to give in to her.
"You are so pretty," she addressed his now erect manhood as she gently rolled his foreskin foreward and back, which brought him unspeakable pleasure and delight.
She continued to please him for a few minutes, then said, "I want you to cover me like a rain cloud and roll your gentle thunder into me until I scream. I need you to mount me like a bull elephant and shove your massive tool into my cave without stopping, and let me feel your flag pole as it opens the pathway to paradise, and crashes into the gateway to my uterus."
Such poetic yet expletive language from a fresh-faced innocent-looking woman was something he hadn't heard before. For that matter, he'd never experienced a woman (or a man) who could have one-sided conversations with his penis, either, but Julie did it quite well.
She carefully stroked his penis and ripped open the condom wrapper. Her lips kissed the head and she lovingly pulled the foreskin back, smoothed the condom over the shaft, and pulled the foreskin back down, over the condom. "Time to put your blanket on, sweet one," she crooned to it, as her hand moved down to the scrotum and cupped it protectively in her hand, caressing it softly, first with her hand, then with her mouth.
A tremor of unspeakable pleasure and anticipation ran through his body, and his breath caught in his throat, emerging as a half-cry. God, how he loved her gentle touch!
He was extremely alert to her right leg as he raised his body over hers, and thrust himself into her with one swift motion, which she loved. He was graceful, and even managed to slow down enough so she didn't have to tell him to. He didn't particularly like doing it this way. He always liked to give pleasure to a woman first, and bring her to completion, and then follow her. But this was what Julie wanted, so he complied as best he could.
"Oh, that feels so nice. You deep inside me," she moaned between her teeth.
He wiggled back and forth a little, to open her wider. She was very tight. Also, amazingly wet.
"Nnn--my leg. Uhh."
"Wait a minute." He re-adjusted his body. "Is that better?"
"Ahhh--that's better." Her hips lifted to help him.
He stretched out on her, with his weight on his elbows and knees, his legs on either side of hers.
She wanted to hold him tight, so her arms and her left leg wrapped around him. His mouth played around her breasts, neck, face, as his intensity grew.
He began thrusting in earnest, remembering to begin slowly, and work up. He moaned loudly, trying to control himself.
"Easy, laddie. It's alright."
"You're alright--my baby boy," she crooned to him, holding his head to her cheek. "Let me hold you."
A loud moan issued from his throat, as his excitement grew.
"Shhh--shhh--shhh--" she whispered into his ear.
Another moan escaped from him, as her lips whispered into his ear, "My sweet lover, take your time. We are not in a hurry." But her very words into his ear, and her lips on his skin, made it very hard for him to hold back. But for her, he would try.
As he probed deeper, a shiver escaped her, and she moaned, "Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh--" She re-positioned her body, and her legs opened wider, to help him. "There--is that better for you?"
He appreciated the gesture, and he groaned, "Mmmm--baby, you--you make me feel wanted." His low voice in her ear reminded her of soft velvet.
"My sweet angel, you ARE wanted." Her hands wandered through his hair.
"I want your joy stick to play with me--inside. I want you to move it around in circles, and side to side."
"How's this, baby?" He lifted himself up onto his hands, and dragged his lower body back and forth.
"Ah--hah! You are so--big--" Her hips lifted in response to his heated movements. "I can feel you--so good."
He growled from his throat.
"I want you. I need you--to go deeper. I want you to rip me open like a chicken. Impale me on your fence post. I want to feel the pain."
"You sure?" He wasn't sure he wanted to do this.
"Uh--huh."
"Raise your legs. That's it. Behind my back."
He shoved in with one determined stroke. And then another.
"Nnnnnn! Nuuuuhhhh!" She threw her head back on the pillow as his point crashed into the tip of her cervix. She grabbed her own hair and pulled on it.
"Oww--ahhh--owww--oh--oh--oh--oh--wuh--wuh--"
"Oh, honeeeeeey--! I'm--so sorry!" He stopped thrusting.
Her face was suddenly pale. "It's--it's okay. Oh, oh, oh, my sweet baby boy. You are bigger than I thought."
Both were very still for a moment, and then she said, "Ohh, yes. You are buried deep inside me, now."
"I can feel you--spreading me apart--inside." She put her leg back down, but was still molded to his body, as he held himself deeply within her. "Oh. Oh." She groaned loudly.
He filled her completely. He was pressed onto her most sensitive region, and just having him there was beginning to drive her to the end. She began to breathe deeply as she captured his eyes with hers. She whimpered as the spasms suddenly rippled through her. "Oh, uh--uh--Yaahhh!"
His mouth took over hers, and she groaned into his throat, her fingers clutching the sheet on the bed. He felt her warm, wet interior tugging at him, and it almost sent him over the abyss. He held onto her until her stiff body relaxed under him.
"I think I just came." Her eyes were wide with astonishment.
"I think you did." He was as surprised as she.
"How do you know?" she gasped.
"Baby, you're like an oil well--a gusher. The way you milk my cock--mm--mm--mm." He began thrusting again, deeply and without reservation. She raised her legs up, and kept them wide apart for him.
"I couldn't help it. You made me do it." And she gave herself over to him, completely, happily.
Both were at the height of pleasure, and insane with lust, as their bodies moved together in perfect rhythm. They were so in tune to each other, the entire apartment complex might have blown up, and they would have known nothing of it. No words were spoken for several minutes as they exchanged their passions, and their sounds of euphoric ecstacy filled the apartment.
He lay on her, arms around her, and she took his head to her neck and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his face, his ears, his nose, anything she could reach, loving him, saying sweet words to him, encouraging him to pleasure her, caressing him the way a mother might caress her child. No woman had ever held him like this before, and he was eating it up, insatiable. Once in awhile, one of his thrusts would go a little deep, and she would flinch and cry out, but she assured him everything was okay.
"You like that, baby?" He whispered into her ear.
"Mmmmmmm. Want me to spread my legs more?"
"Noooo, no, baby--you are fine. Julie Anne, Julie Anne--you spread your legs for me--" he muttered, almost incoherently.
"Ohhh, yesss--Ohhhh--"
"Oh, Jesus--my woman--" He moaned unabashedly. "Mine--mine--mine--" He was deeply into her. "Say my name. I wannu hear you say it," he hissed.
"Horatio--Horatio."
He cried out, and began to thrust harder, with gusto.
"Woden!" She gasped.
His answer was to pound into her, as he lost any semblance of control he had.
"Uhhhhh! Uhh--Ohhhh!"
"Horatio--Horatio--Odin!"
"Mmmm! Mmm! Duh--Duh--Duh--Duh--"
Her body stiffened under him, and she moaned loudly. "Uhhhhh! Nnnnn! Nnnnn! Ohhhh--Ohhhh! Ohhh!"
Her body shuddered, and she went limp, and a look of peace came upon her face." A single tear ran down her cheek, and he licked it away.
"I came again. Oh, Horatio."
He loved the look of raptured wonder on her face. "You did," he said.
"I want you to thrust inside me now, as hard as you can."
That was all the encouragement he needed. "Oh---Piper. Julie Anne," he groaned, as he let himself go. He began to pound harder, as he felt himself slipping over the abyss. This time, he didn't try to hold back. He was incoherent and totally into this beautiful woman. "God--GOD! So nice--oh--oh--oh--mine. All mine--"
Julie flinched and cried out as his tip pounded deeply into her most tender regions, but she only gripped him tighter, determined to not let him become discouraged.
He knew he was causing her pain, but he was so out of control, the deeper he shoved as she clutched him, now wild with chaos as his throbbing member banged into her time and time again. Her legs were spread wide apart for him, and he was so into that, he could no more have stopped than the sun could stop rising. His mind was totally into this warm, loving, beautiful woman squirming underneath him. She wanted HIM. She was letting HIM take possession of her body. She cried out HIS name. HE made her come. Her moaning and orgasms were caused by HIM, and HIM alone. Her wetness and writhing was caused by HIM. Her words of encouragement and tenderness were meant only for HIM. God, how he loved her!
Her cries became one continuous moan as he drove himself in and out, scooting her forward on the bed with each thrust, until her head bumped into the headboard.
Horatio was turned on by this, and it encouraged him to pump as fast as he could. His body was slick with sweat, and the perspiration dripped off his hair and onto her forehead.
Horatio's face was taut, and his breath was in gasps as he grunted, "I'm--I'm--coming--sweetheart--hold me-- hold me--"
She took his head in her hands and kissed him. "It's okay, sweet baby. Let it come." Her arms locked around him.
He shivered uncontrollably. He coughed drily. His rapture was complete, as wave upon wave of ecstasy swept over him, and he grunted loudly as he released his essence into her, and she gripped him tightly, as though she would never let him go.
"Stay with me." She whispered into his ear. "It's okay, it's okay," she soothed him softly.
She gripped his bottom and thrust her hips up, and pressed his hips down onto hers. "I can feel it. I can feel you--coming--your spasms--like a pump emptying. Ah--ha. I can feel it!" She was excited and thrilled.
"Oh, baby--oh, baby--" He collapsed on top of her, rasping and groaning.
"Oh, my goodness. Horatio. Whoo. I counted six--times. You feel to me like a Mexican jumping bean in there."
"Oh, yeah--"
They lay together for many minutes, regaining their strength, and clinging desperately to each other.
She felt his heart beating wildly, and she continued to soothe him. "Sshhh--ssshhh, now, my sweet angel. Time to rest."
"Oh, you are such a big boy," she crooned plaintively to him, stroking his soaked red hair. Her loving words soothed him, and he wanted more--of her words, her body, her love.
So she held him close to her, kissing him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, hugging him as though each minute was their last.
His head lay on her breast, and he listened to the sound of her heart beat and her breathing, as she talked to him lovingly. His arm curled around her tightly.
"Thank you for the dinner, my beautiful big baby boy." She kissed his nose. "You are so wonderful--to me." She kissed his cheek. "Oh--you fill me up so good."
Her lips tugged at his eyebrow. "I want you inside me--forever." She captured his chin in her mouth. "Ah--ah--ah--you are mine."
She administered a big kiss to his ear.
She grew silent, and so they lay for many minutes, neither sleeping, but glorying in what they had together, enjoying the closeness of each other's bodies.
Finally he stirred, and lifted his head as her spasm involuntarily squeezed his limpness out.
Well, whadda you know," said Horatio, after he withdrew. "What have we got here? Look at this."
The condom had split down the side, as they discovered afterwards, and Julie said something derogatory about it. "Damn cheap latex," she uttered incredulously.
"Now this--this has never happened before." He peeled the lacerated piece of latex off himself, and they both inspected it.
"But we were not even rough with it," she declared, as she waved it aloft like a small, wet banner.
"We really got it wet, didn't we." She gazed at the soggy item with glittering eyes.
"That we did." He grinned.
Julie looked down at the large wet spot between herself and her lover. "Oh, boy! It is on the sheet as well!" She said excitedly, and then commented, "Well, I suppose high passion and well-endowed members make for an explosive combination, don't they."
There was what she liked to call "love juice" everywhere, but she had no qualms about it. In fact, she seemed to take delight in it. "Something made it through quality control that should not have." She examined the condom closely, and finished ripping it apart.
He took it away from her. "Look at that thing," he remarked with amazement, as he tossed it into the trash can at the head of his bed.
"I bet condom companies get sued a lot," she reflected.
Horatio agreed. "Yeah, probably from new parents."
She sniffed and took a deep breath. "It smells really good in here."
He looked at her with a huge grin. "What's it smell like?"
"It smells like sex."
Horatio shook his head. "Whew!" He pulled his hand through his damp hair. "Bet the neighbors thought someone's having some fun."
"Let them know. I do not care." She sat up in the bed. "Perhaps they could not hear us because of the rain."
"Mm hm."
"Horatio, it feels so good to let go, with you. I just want to give myself to you. I feel no shame with you."
She reached down to his penis and took him into her hand, and lovingly curled her hand around him. "To feel this--this part of your body inside my body--I feel that this is right, and it is good."
"Mm hm, me too."
"He looks--so devastated now. So--tired." She caressed his limp organ favorably.
"Yeah, you gave him a pretty good workout."
His worried expression caused her to give his face her full attention. "Honey, I--I--feel like I've raped you."
"No, you did not. I wanted you to--take me hard."
"But I hurt you." She could see he was concerned about her. "You--you're just--so tiny, sweetheart."
"I like the pain, my love. It is alright. It was not unbearable. If it were, I would have told you to stop."
"I feel--like I am ready to go again. I can feel you inside me, still. I feel--like I have been opened up--down here--and it feels good to me."
A frown crossed her face as she suddenly thought of somethings else. "Is it painful for YOU?"
"On the tip. Just--just a little."
She looked devastated. "I am so sorry, Horatio."
By now, after nine days together, Horatio knew that his girlfriend could find interest and entertainment in the most unusual things. Never had a condom ever broken with him before, but somehow, with her, it didn't seem too unusual, or even surprising. She just never seemed to worry about things the way he did--like unplanned pregnancies, failed relationships, whether or not it was going to rain, if the traffic in Miami was too heavy to drive in, or if it would be dangerous to be caught in the middle of the city at 2:00 in the morning without transportation. Her philosophy seemed to be, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
He pulled his lady close to him, his lips buried in her hair, her head on his chest, and they slept well, while outside, the rain came down.
END OF CHAPTER NINE
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Two Weeks In Miami