Exclusive 4/5
By Lacy
Finally, lunch hour rolls around. I am tense and somewhat snippish.
That's a word my mother always used and it describes perfectly how I
am feeling right now. I am shuffling folders and papers on my desk
in an effort to give them some form of organization that I can have
hope of understanding. I'm not having much luck.
Donna steps into the office and crooks her head, signaling that it's
time for us to go off the clock. For the next half hour I get to be
her boyfriend. Oh, hell...whatever.
We are out to the car in record time, since we stopped to talk to no
one. I open the car door for her and close it once she's securely
inside. Seatbelts on, ignition firing, I place the car into drive.
I'm relatively sure that I'm speeding as we leave the car park.
She takes my hand in hers and turns her head so that she can look
over at me.
"You were jealous," she interrupts our comfortable silence. A
languorous smile drifts across her face.
"What?"
"Jealous," she reiterates. "When you saw Allan hugging me."
"Jealous? Why should I be jealous? Should I have reason to be?"
She has my number.
"Don't be ridiculous, Josh."
"Jealous? Just because Tall, Dark, and Handsome can do a brilliant
interpretation of an octopus?"
"I've decided to do the interview," she says out of nowhere. How
does she do that?
"Okay," I respond, still spinning from her lightening quick change in
topics.
"I've decided I don't want to be afraid to talk about us."
"Are you afraid?"
"A little, I guess. Mostly, I'm afraid that if I say too much,
someone will come along and say, 'You're too happy. Josh Lyman has
to go.'"
"I'm not going anywhere. You know that, right?"
"I know," she whispers. I feel the back of her fingers brush my
cheek as I am watching the road in front of me.
My skin burns with her touch and I cannot wait another moment. I
pull the car into a parking garage, without signaling my intent, and
find a conveniently located spot in a dark corner of the structure.
"Okay," I admit. "I was jealous." I slam the car into park and turn
off the ignition in a series of swift moves. With my next breath, I
grasp the back of her neck and pull her towards me. My mouth is on
hers in an instant and I drink her in like a dying man drinks
oxygen. Believe me, I know of what I speak.
Her tongue invades my mouth and jockeys with mine for dominance. She
retreats, her teeth biting gently down on my lower lip.
"Say it again, Josh." Her voice is like melted chocolate, smooth and
silky.
"I was jealous," I repeat. "I couldn't stand him touching you."
Our kisses are rife with pent emotions -- animal instincts that must
be held at bay during the long ours of work. Somehow, I have no
idea, I manage to pull her into my lap. She faces me, straddling my
legs in the front seat, and I wonder how we've managed to get
ourselves into this awkward position. The kissing goes on, filling
us and drugging us all at the same time.
My mouth finds the smooth column of her neck, and my hot breath
elicits a low, gentle groan from deep in her throat.
"Josh." The sound of her voice, breathless with desire, spurs me
on. Finding an especially soft patch of skin on her neck, I suck it
into my mouth, gently at first and then slowly applying pressure.
When I release her, the delicate flesh of her neck is marked with a
bright pink blot.
A laugh wells up deep in my chest. I haven't done that since college.
She shifts her position in my lap, and her bottom hits the car horn,
causing a loud blast to echo through the garage.
"Donna!"
"Sorry."
Her hands are on my chest, separated by the material of my cotton
undershirt and the white dress shirt I'm wearing. I pray that she
will pull my tie loose, but she does not. More than anything, I want
her hands on me.
"Donna?" I rasp.
"Yes, Josh?"
"Tell me that we can be together tonight."
"Oh, we're going to be together tonight, Josh," she assures me.
"We're not changing the way we live our lives. One night of that was
enough."
"Agreed," I say, as I capture her mouth again with mine. My hands
blindly locate the hem of her skirt and slip underneath. I can feel
the heat of her skin through the stockings she wears and my hand
travels up until her voice stops me.
"Tonight, Josh," she warns.
"Donna," I'm begging now.
"No, Josh," she says.
"And 'no' means 'no', right?" I gasp out the question.
"Yes," she answers. My beleaguered mind is having trouble separating
the negative from the positive.
"I'm confused," I admit.
She laughs a deep, throaty chuckle. She knows she has got me so hot
that I'm nearing the breaking point. "I need you, Donna," I say
between kisses.
"I know," she says. "I need you too, Josh."
"Say it again, Donna," I demand.
"I need you, Josh." Her lips are swollen from the ardor of our
kisses. Her eyes meet mine and I am lost inside the smoky blue
depths of them. "I need you, Josh."
"Only me?"
"Only you, Josh," she professes. "It's only ever been you." Then
her mouth is on my neck and she is marking me, much as I did her.
Her hot tongue and the sucking pressure on the sensitive skin of my
neck takes my breath away. For a moment I am unable to force my
lungs to work -- and I don't care.
With one hand I unbutton the front of her suit jacket and reach for
the waistband of her skirt. I grasp the hem of her silk shirt and
tug it from the restraints of the waistband. My fingers at last find
the flesh of her abdomen and she rewards me with a vibrating groan.
"Josh, we can't."
"Okay," I say, without stopping my explorations.
"We have to get back to the office."
"Uh huh." My thumb brushes the flesh just beneath her ribcage. Her
hand on mine stops my tactile adventure, and the look in her eyes
leaves me sufficiently chastened.
"We have to stop," she says.
My head falls back against the headrest and I close my eyes as I
slowly attempt to master the raging hormones in my body. She makes
me feel like I am seventeen again.
She slides off my lap, and manages to do it without honking the horn
or injuring any important parts of my anatomy.
"Tonight," I whisper with my head still leaning against the rest.
"Tonight," she promises. "It's time to go back."
"Okay," I sigh as I lean forward and turn the keys in the ignition.
Driving back to the White House I can't help but watch out of the
corner of my eye as Donna remodels herself into the professional she
was when she left the building. She reaches down and straightens her
stockings, working them gently up each leg. She pulls the hem of her
skirt up slightly to reach the tops and I catch a delectable glimpse
of her garter belt.
"Eyes on road, Josh."
Damn. "You're killing me, you know that?"
She tosses a saucy sideways glance at me with her eyebrows raised
just the slightest bit. She retrieves her purse from the floorboard
and rifles through it until she locates a tube of lipstick. She
flips down the vanity mirror and carefully applies a fresh coat. She
drops the tube back into her purse and pulls out her hairbrush.
By the time we reach the White House she looks as though she never
left. I, on the hand, look as though she has had her way with me.
She hands me her hairbrush and I proceed to make a useless attempt at
achieving normality.
"I'm going to tell CJ that I'm doing to interview," she says, as we
walk towards the entrance.
"Okay," I say. I'm still spinning from our make out session in the
car.
"Are you sure you're okay with this?" She stops walking and grabs my
hand to bring me to a stop. "I don't want to be an embarrassment to
you, Josh."
"What?" I cannot quite wrap the words she just uttered around my
brain. What is this expression of fear on her face? I squeeze her
hand in mine. "You've never been an embarrassment to me -- not for a
single moment. Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?
Everything you do...everything you've learned. I just don't have the
words, Donna."
"Whatever happened to 760 Verbal?"
"They fail me at the moment," I say. "Someday, I may be able to put
it into words. I'll have to work on that." I pause for an instant
and look in to her eyes again. "Nothing you do or say could ever
embarrass me. Not as long as it comes from your heart. Speak the
truth, remember?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Let's go." I tug her along beside me, and reluctantly
release her hand as we reach the security checkpoint entrance.
Back in the bullpen, we discover a large bouquet of hot-house flowers
awaiting Donna's discovery at her desk. She casts a glance at me and
all I can do, I'm sorry to say, is shrug. Once again, I am adrift in
the realm of clueless-ness. I really should get frequent fliers
miles for this.
Each and every flower in the bouquet is rare and out of season. It
is clear that someone (once again, not me) spent quite a bit of money
on this astounding display of flora.
"Read the card." I cringe as hear the hint of jealousy in my voice.
Donna roots around in the flowers until she locates the card buried
beneath the large red bow on the lip of the vase. She removes the
card from the tiny envelope and turns it over. A smile bursts across
her face and then she begins to laugh.
"Who's it from," I ask, trying not to sound overly possessive.
She hands the card to me and I read from it. "It's about damn time!
Best of luck, David Hasselhoff."
Jealous over nothing for the second time in one day. I laugh because
the situation really is funny. I laugh because it feels good.
"You think he's still married?" she asks. I'm not laughing anymore.
"I'm just teasing, Josh.
"Go see CJ," I tell her.
She sends me a look that says, 'If we weren't here right now, nothing
would stop me from touching you.' This is all I need to see to put a
smile on my face. I tell her to hurry back and then watch as she
walks across the bullpen to CJ's office. I love the way she walks.
TBC
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