By Lacy

I notice a distinct bounce in my stride as I head back to the Operations bullpen.

"Josh!" Donna’s voice calls from behind. I turn to find her running up to me. When she comes to a halt in front of me, her face is flushed and her breathing is labored.

"What do you think you’re doing?"

"Looking for you."

"You could break your neck running in heels like that," I admonish.

"I mastered the art of walking in high heels a long time ago, Josh."

"Still," I brilliantly counter. "Could you please take it easy on your first day back?"

"I am taking it easy."

"Take it easier," I say as she follows me into my office.

"You’re worried about the…" she glances behind her and closes the open door, "baby, aren’t you?"

"I’m worried about you," I tell her. "I don’t want your first day back to end with you being carried out of here on a stretcher."

"I’m as a strong as an ox," she informs me. "And I feel great today."

"Humor me."

"I’ve never humored you before. Why should I start now?"

"Because this heart has aged ten years in the last three weeks. I don’t think my ticker could take much more."

"Yeah, Josh," she smiles, evilly. "You look like you’re fifty years old."

"Forty-eight," I chuckle.

"I’ve got index cards," she announces, brandishing a set of pink cards she’s been holding in her hand. Once again I’m unexpectedly forced to change the direction of my thought processes. "One hundred and two facts everyone should know about bacterial meningitis."

"Did you get me the MMWR?"

"Right there in front of you," she points to the blue folders in the center of my desk. "Also, the information you requested on prevention and vaccination."

"Okay. I need you to get Andre Kaiser from the CDC on the phone."

"Now?"

"Yes, please."

Less then two minutes later a shout raises from Donna's desk. "Josh. Dr. Kaiser."

I spend the next three hours on the phone with Dr. Kaiser in Atlanta, who ensures me that it's not too late to contain the outbreak. Extra vaccine has been sent to the hotspots and surrounding areas, where people can be inoculated at no cost to themselves. He explains that the mortality rate is high because people are reluctant to seek medical attention. Announcements of free vaccinations are sent over the video and print media, as well through radio-aired public service spots.

By four o'clock in the afternoon we're receiving reports of smaller outbreaks in parts of New Mexico. Word from the New Mexico Department of Health is that everything is under control.

At four-thirty I emerge from my office-cave to find Donna at her desk, munching away on a chicken salad sandwich. "You didn't bring me anything?"

"I did," she contradicts.

"So?"

"I sort of ate it already."

"What? You ate my lunch?

"I was starving, Josh. If I recall correctly we missed breakfast this morning."

"I guess you're not having any...uh...digestive difficulties."

"So far, so good," she replies. "Maybe I'll be one of those women who doesn't get sick."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed."

"Are we going to get out of here tonight?"

"You are," I tell her.

"Josh."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"Headaches? Dizziness?"

"Only when I have to listen to you. What's going on with the outbreak?"

"Policy, protocol...you know...the usual. Certain mortality levels have to be reached before we can send in vaccine, which we have, and other levels have to be reached before we can quarantine, which we haven't."

"So, are we going to get out of here tonight?" she asks again, but her voice drops into the husky range.

"Did you have plans?"

"You know I did."

"What kind of plans?"

I take a step backwards, closer to my office door. She swings her chair around, which emits a low squeak, and stands up. "I think you know what kind of plans," she says.

"Well, I can be a little bit dense sometimes," I tease, taking another step back -- into my office.

"Preaching to choir, Josh," she follows, closing the door behind her.

"You think you can...you know...give me a hint?"

She grabs me by the tie and turns me around until my back is straight against the door. Her lips are on mine in a heartbeat, and my tongue sweeps into her mouth with the slightest provocation. My hands find her hips and pull them towards me until they're flush with mine. A deep groan comes from her chest and she releases my mouth. Her breath is coming in quick gasps, and she bites down on her lower lip as she looks at me.

"You know when you were...in here talking to...Kaiser for hours on end?" she asks between breaths.

"Yeah."

"In between all that work I was doing for you...."

"Yeah?"

"I did a little surfing on the net."

"I hope you were looking up government statistics," I tell her.

"Not exactly," she announces before capturing my lips again.

"Why were you surfing?" I ask, when I break away.

"Because I didn't have any books handy."

"Books?"

"Yeah, books. Do you want to know what I learned?"

"Is this where you go into gruesome detail on how minks are killed for coat making? 'Cause, I've got to tell you, you've told me that one already."

"This isn't about minks, Josh. But it is a piece of trivia you might find interesting inasmuch as it could apply to us."

"It could?"

"Yeah."

"What did you find out?"

"I found out that some women get incredibly randy when they're pregnant, Josh."

Hearing her use the word 'randy' is almost enough to make my knees buckle. "Are you?" I gulp. "Incredibly randy?"

"Oh, yeah. It must be the hormones." Her hot, open mouth on my neck forces me to stifle the groan threatening to escape.

"I like those hormones."

"You know what else, Josh?"

"What?"

"I learned that some men get incredibly randy, too. Psychologists say it's because getting their lover pregnant makes them feel virile. Do you feel virile, Josh?"

"Right now?"

"Uh huh."

"Oh, yeah."

"Are we getting out of here tonight, Josh?"

"Oh, yeah."

She steps out of arm's reach, leaving me with my back pressed against the door and my knees painfully locked to keep them buckling. The afternoon light filters through the Venetian blinds and transforms her flaxen hair into liquid gold. Her skin is flushed rose from arousal, and her lips are inflamed from our kisses. She takes my breath away.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

She blushes, which I find immensely arousing. There aren't many women these days who can blush and get away with it. In this day in age, not many women can hang on to that kind of simplicity.

It's been too long. Three weeks away from her is an eternity too long. Unable to touch her -- to feel the satin heat of her skin beneath me and around me. To read the tiny imperfections of her flesh with my lips, as a blind man reads Braille with the feather light brush of his fingertips.

"I want to be with you," I breathe.

"The feeling is mutual." Her voice matches mine. She steps into my arms and I sigh with the relief of it.

"Is it okay?" I ask. "I mean…is it safe?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Tonight, then." We continue our conversation between kisses.

"When we go home," she confirms.

"Yeah. Home."

"Josh?"

"Yeah."

"If we ever want to go home, than we have to get back to work."

"Right."

She reaches for the doorknob, and I’m forced to move as she tugs on it. "Work, Josh."

"Okay."

TBC

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