This story was written for the Pretender Story Auction. My apologies to those who receive
this twice. This took a little longer to finish off than I expected, but hey, I had fun
--
Title: The Art of Seduction
Category: S
Spoilers: fourth season-ish.
Key words: JMPR, smut
Author's Notes: at the end.
Summary: Jarod devises a new way to escape Miss Parker, but how far will he go? Written
for the Pretender Story Auction.
Disclaimer: Not mine blah blah blah no infringement intended, no profit gained.
The Art of Seduction
The ability to delay satisfaction is the ultimate art of seduction.
- Robert Greene
"The Seductive Character
The Ideal Lover"
"Most people have dreams in their youth that get shattered or worn down with age.
They find themselves disappointed by people, event, reality, which cannot match their
youthful ideals. Ideal Lovers thrive on people's broken dreams, which become lifelong
fantasies. You long for romance? Adventure? Lofty spiritual communion? The Ideal Love
reflects your fantasy. He or she is an artist in creating the illusion you require. In a world of
disenchantment and baseness, there is limitless seductive power in following the path of the
Ideal Lover."
Jarod didn't mean to do it. In fact, it was only through a silly miscalculation that they
had ended up in the same place at the same time, he reflected. He had just wanted to keep
her on her toes. Make her realise that, even when she thought she was getting away from it
all, she wasn?t getting away from *him*. But he hadn?t counted on the storm coming in so
fast, and he hadn?t counted on the car refusing to start, on not being able to get away before
she came. And by the time their altercation was over, after they?d been fighting and battling
and grappling for her gun, and by the time she had won and was standing over him with a
triumphant smile on her face, and they were both wet and cold, by the time all that had
happened, the storm had gotten very bad, and they were snowed in anyway.
So they had to spend the night in a tiny little rustic cabin together, high on the side of
a mountain and miles away from anywhere. And it might not have turned out the way it had,
if he hadn't remembered that stupid book he had read while pretending to be a sex therapist.
Might not have turned out the way it had, if he hadn't come with a plan to worm his way out
of situation; not with anger, or violence or even guilt, but with the oldest form of art on the
planet. The art of seduction.
"Choose The Right Victim"
They stood shivering inside the little cabin, both soaked to the bone after their tussle
in the snowdrifts outside. Miss Parker held her gun, fixed pointedly on Jarod, although it
shook a little as she shivered. Her knee, in his groin, had insured she had possession of it.
He hadn?t been expecting that, but he should have. Of course Miss Parker would fight dirty
to win.
"You know, I knew I packed the handcuffs for a reason," she said. Not taking her eyes off
Jarod, she crouched down beside her slightly damp duffel bag, digging around until she found
what she was looking for. With a metallic clank, a pair of cuffs slid across the hardwood
floor towards him.
"No, really, I'm not much into jewellery. You can have them," Jarod said dryly. Miss
Parker narrowed her eyes at him.
"Put them on. Attach yourself to..." her gaze roamed around the room, at the sparse
furniture - one rickety table and chairs, a wooden bench and sink, a small gas stove, a
refrigerator that had to be older than their ages combined, a door that led into a miniscule
bathroom, a fireplace with a rug in front of it, an old wooden dresser with a dusty mirror, a
bedside table and a rather large and comfortable looking brass bed, conveniently fitted with
brass spokes on the bed head.
"Oh, let me guess..." Jarod muttered.
"Attach yourself to the bed - both hands over your head, loop the chain around one of the
bars," Parker ordered sharply.
Jarod looked at the bed, shivered, looked at his damp clothing and then looked at
Miss Parker appealingly. She rolled her eyes, sidling across the room and, without looking
away from him, jerked open a few of the drawers on the dressers until she found what she
was looking for; a big fuzzy blanket. She tossed it to Jarod, who caught it with a smile.
"Better get out of these wet clothes," he said, and tried not to smile.
He supposed it wasn't entirely necessary to strip off as much as he did. For while all
of his outer layers were wet from rolling around in the snow, the long john he was wearing
underneath was only a *little* damp, but that didn?t stop him. Jarod stripped right down to
his cotton Calvin Klein boxer shorts, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension in them. And it
was while he was flexing his muscles and wriggling out of his boots, jeans, sweater and long
johns that he happened to notice the particularly *blank* expression on Miss Parker's face.
In Jarod's experience, an expression like that meant one of two things. Either she
was trying very hard not to laugh, or she was being very careful not to expose her true
reaction to the sight of his near-naked body. Jarod knew which one made the most sense to
him.
Jarod wasn't conceited, or even vain, but after four years on the outside, he had
come to understand that, to most women (and even some men), he was very attractive. Out
of necessity he kept his body very fit, and had developed a short but useful series of
exercises he could perform every day in any location, which meant his body was sleek and
toned. He spent a lot of time running, whether for pleasure or because he was being chased,
and loved to swim when he could, and it was because of this that he was in remarkably good
shape for a man of his age - a fact which apparently hadn?t gone unnoticed by Miss Parker.
And noting the carefully neutral expression on her face, the slight loosening of her grip
on her gun, Jarod had an idea.
It was suicidal, he thought. It was dangerous, and he could be completely off the
mark, and Miss Parker could be thinking about something else entirely whilst staring blatantly
at his naked chest, and damn, it just might work. He could turn the tables on her, getaway
before she had a chance to take him in, and maybe humiliate her a little in the process.
Seduction. Seducing someone, Jarod knew, was a fine and careful process that had
to be drawn out as long as possible. It was the act of surrounding someone, whose defences
were already weakened, with illusion and misdirection, carefully drawing them out of reality,
away from their normal responses and reactions and placing them alone and isolated in a new
situation, with only the seducer to turn to. Jarod considered the act of seduction deceitful,
and never would have considered the process for a woman he had met during one of his
every day travels. Miss Parker, however, was a different matter.
She was, he decided, gathering his blanket and handcuffs and sitting on the bed, the
perfect example for seduction. Disillusioned, unhappy and lonely, she was far more likely to
respond than if she had of been happy and contented, as she had been a little over a year ago
with Tommy.
Jarod draped the blanket over himself artlessly, craning his head around to see as he
handcuffed himself to the bed. He wouldn?t take it all the way, he decided. Just enough to
weaken her defences, to make her let down her guard so she was in a vulnerable position he
could take advantage of. Then he would make her the captive, and wait it out til morning -
fix the car, or walk down the side of the damn mountain, and leave her to fume. It might even
teach her a lesson, and he would enjoy taunting her about it in the months to come.
Just make her want what she couldn?t have, Jarod thought, reclining on the bed and
smiling sardonically at the still-silent Miss Parker. Tease her, torment her, drive her slowly
crazy with confusion and need, and then strike - easy. He?d be free and laughing by the
morning.
"Create A False Sense Of Security"
"All done?" Miss Parker asked sharply, and Jarod rattled his handcuffs against the bed head.
"Want to check?" he asked serenely. He figured he'd have to get out of the cuffs fairly soon
- they were going to make his shoulders ache after a little while. But if she let him out of the
cuffs, there was no way Miss Parker was going to put down the gun long enough for him to
get close in any way. He'd just have to lull her into complacency.
Miss Parker eased closer to him, her gun still trained squarely on his chest. With one
hand she attempted to reach the cuffs to check them, but seems as Jarod had cuffed himself
right in the middle of the bed, she couldn't reach. She let out a soft huff of impatience, and
Jarod tried not to smile.
Shuffling even closer, Parker raised one knee onto the bed, then the other one, at
which point she paused, as if waiting for him to make a sudden move. When he didn't, she
narrowed her eyes at him and shifted even closer. Her gun arm was no longer held out
straight or braced, but she placed the muzzle squarely over his chest as she leaned forward
and over him to examine the cuffs, rattling the chain, her torso looming over Jarod's face.
"You should get out of those wet clothes," Jarod murmured slowly, huskily, and Miss Parker
jerked back to stare at him.
"What?" she said, and Jarod tried to look as innocent as possible.
"You might catch pneumonia," he said brightly. Miss Parker hopped off the bed, the gun
now dangling loosely from her hand. She rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, like I'm going to strip off and parade around in my underwear to give you a free
show," she said, and laughed.
"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of changing into fresh, dry clothes. It's kind of
cold in here, anyway," he said, and shivered dramatically.
Miss Parker seemed a little off balance, as if she had been expecting some innuendo
on his behalf... she even looked a little disappointed, he thought. But dutifully she
approached him again, tucking the blanket up around his shoulders, before disappearing into
the bathroom with her bag.
When she emerged again it was in jeans, a thick sweater and a heavy overcoat, and
she barely afforded him a glance as she tucked her gun into her waistband and headed
outside. A moment later he heard the sound of an axe hitting wood.
She left him there for half an hour, and Jarod listened to the sounds of her occasional
cursing as she chopped wood, and was vaguely worried that she shouldn't be out while the
winds were so strong and the snow falling so heavily. But he was more concerned about the
ache that was gathering in his shoulders, and attempted to shift around to ease the pain,
which, of course, dislodged his blanket.
By the time Miss Parker came back inside with an armful of wood, he was twisted
around and hunched over, straining against the bars to stretch his muscles. The door
slammed behind her, shutting out the wind and the snow, and she dropped her load of wood,
yanking out her gun and storming over to him angrily.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she barked angrily, showering specks of snow
over the floor. Jarod grunted, not looking at her as he twisted around.
"Trying to stretch my muscles. That wasn't the most comfortable position you put me in," he
said, and then let out a soft moan of relief as he felt his back crack somewhere around his
shoulder blades. Miss Parker stared at him anxiously, obviously torn about what to do, so
Jarod turned his head to look at her, "We might as well face it, Miss Parker, we're stuck
with each other for the night, at least. Can we set aside hostility, and for god's sake, can you
handcuff me in a different position? This is killing my shoulders."
It took only a moment of consideration, and then Miss Parker pulled the key to the
handcuffs out of her pocket. Jarod stayed very still as she uncuffed his left wrist, attaching
the bracelet to the bar on the bed head itself, so while Jarod was still handcuffed to the bed,
his left arm was free and he had a lot more range with his right. He pulled the blanket around
his shoulders quickly, feeling the cold, watching as she pushed the bedside table far away
from where he was sitting, so he couldn?t reach it and anything it may contain. He shivered.
"Are you going to light that fire?" he asked, and Parker shot him a look of annoyance.
"When *I'm* ready, Jarod, I'm not your maid," she snapped, but Jarod noticed she didn't
waste any more time, stripping off her overcoat, going straight to the fireplace and laying a
fire.
He watched for twenty minutes as she attempted to create a little blaze, but her
kindling was stacked too close together, and the newspaper she had lit underneath was
smoking and smouldering away into nothing, with only a little of the kindling lighting, before it
would quickly go out again. He tried not to smirk as she became more and more frustrated,
stuffing more newspaper in and piling more wood on top, which only made things worse.
Finally, when she was coughing from the smoke and her eyes were red-rimmed, he
cleared his throat, asking, "Would you like a hand?"
Parker looked over her shoulder to glare at him, but picked up her gun anyway. She
tossed him the handcuff key, and trained her gun on him as he unlocked himself, and ambled
over to the fire. He knelt in front of it, and began picking away bits of kindling. "Your
problem is that everything is piled on top of each other, which means the flame has no room
to breathe. Less is more," he said, showing her the gaps he had created between the pieces
of wood. He picked up the box of matches, re-lit the newspaper and blew gently, coaxing a
small, crackling fire into life.
"Lucky I've got a fucking boy scout here, then, huh?" Miss Parker said dryly, and Jarod
chuckled.
He added more wood to the fire slowly, bigger bits that took a little longer to catch,
and then sat back, proud of his small accomplishment. He flashed Miss Parker a wide smile,
noting her surprise at his response, then looked back at the fire.
"All right, back on the bed," she said gruffly, and he rose without protest, settling back on the
bed with his blanket and handcuffs. He even gave her the key when she held out her hand.
"Send Mixed Signals"
Miss Parker had relaxed somewhat. She had turned her back on him, at least, and
was rifling through the cupboards under the bench in the kitchen, apparently ignoring Jarod,
who was snuggled in his blanket with the warmth of the fire. He watched her go from
cupboard to cupboard, growling under her breath.
"Something wrong, Miss Parker?" he called, and she shot him a poisonous stare.
"The woman I rented the cabin from *assured* me there would be enough supplies to last
until I could drive to town in the morning. So far I've discovered two tins of soup, a tin of
hotdog sausages, a tiny carton of UHT milk and some very, very lumpy sugar!" she said,
obviously unimpressed.
"Try the fridge," Jarod supplied helpfully.
She opened the fridge door and was silent. Jarod waited patiently for the reaction
that was coming - he hadn't come up to the cabin without a reason, after all. He saw her
reach inside and pick something up, before straightening up and half-turning to look at him.
"'Enjoy your stay,'" she quoted from the small note he had left, and then held up a bottle of
champagne and a punt of strawberries for him to see, "What the hell is this, Jarod?"
Jarod shrugged, kind of pleased with his gifts now that he had a grand plan for
escape - they would fit in well. "Just to remind you that I know what you're doing before
you do, to let you know that I'm around," he said, "But seems as I *am* around, it's kind of
a moot point."
"Can't you ever just leave me alone, Jarod?" Miss Parker sighed wearily, putting the
champagne and strawberries back in the fridge.
It was on the tip of Jarod's tongue to make some caustic remark about him 'leaving
her alone when she left him alone', but he cut it off before it came to bear. That wouldn't do,
not at all. If the plan was to seduce her, he'd have to keep things on the level, approach her
with daisies rather than dead roses. "Now what's the fun in that?" he asked playfully.
She jerked her head around in surprise, closing the fridge door and staring at him,
trying to gauge his expression. Jarod smiled sleepily at her, tucking his blanket around him
more tightly, only his right arm poking out.
"Fire needs more wood," he said.
He considered his next move carefully as she put wood on the fire. He had her
attention, certainly. Maybe she didn't recognise it consciously, but he realised that she was
put off balance by his behaviour, and it was enough to subdue her automatic hostile reaction,
enough to spike her curiosity. She wanted to know what he would do next; he had her
intrigued by the slight difference in their interactions. There was no sexual undertone, not
quite yet, but he had a feeling that should be brought into play soon. But first, he wanted to
bring her attention to focus solely on him - not on capturing him, or bringing him in, but on
him and, more importantly, his responses to her.
"You should take holidays more often, Miss Parker," he said softly. She stiffened, from
where she was standing in front of the fire, and turned her head slightly.
"Why? You want to stalk me in the Bahamas?" she asked.
Jarod chuckled slightly, propping himself up on his right elbow, making the chain on
the cuffs jangle as he rested the side of his face on his hand. "No, although that might be
nice. I was just thinking that you don't get away from the - away from work nearly enough,"
he corrected, wanting to avoid bringing the Centre into their conversation.
She was weakening, he decided, very slowly. Although she still held her gun, she
was edging slowly closer to him, seemingly without even realising it. He gazed up at her,
making sure his expression and body language portrayed the image of someone who was
relaxed and comfortable, perhaps even inviting her to come closer.
"Yeah, well, leave is hard to come by..." Parker said, shrugging, nonchalantly. She placed
her gun on the dresser casually, too casually, and strolled over to stand by the bed, looking
down at Jarod.
"So why are you here Jarod? Why didn't you disappear before I arrived? If you're not here
for any devious purposes, why are you here?" she asked, and perched on the side of the
bed.
"How do you know I'm not?" he asked, with a small smile, "I could have put arsenic in the
food and stuck around to see the results..."
"I wouldn't eat or drink anything *you* left for me," she said, and Jarod quirked a brow at
her.
"Ah, but knowing that, wouldn't make more sense for me to put it in something I hadn't left?
Injected it into the soup, for example?" he said knowingly, and Parker smiled with
amusement.
"No, you wouldn't do something like that at all, Jarod. The worst I can expect is that you
shook up the champagne so it will go everywhere when I open it," she jeered. Jarod grinned.
"So it's *when* you open it now, not *if*, is it?" he asked. Miss Parker blinked.
She seemed on the verge of something, as if on the brink of moving closer or moving
away, the make or break of the moment - and Jarod didn?t want her to have control of that
decision. So he took it out of her hands, laying back and resting his head on his hands,
closing his eyes. He knew this move would confuse her; they'd almost been flirting, or at
least having a friendly conversation, and his sudden retreat was sure to make her wonder
what she had done, why he had backed away.
He wondered if she had ever been slowly, carefully seduced before, with patience
and intelligence. Her own methods of seduction were probably based on sexual power and
bold moves, he decided, and a lot of men would be in such sexual awe of her, that they
wouldn't consider a slow and steady assault on her defences. He was carefully easing her
out of her known perimeters and into his - he would ultimately have complete control, as only
he would know what was coming next. It was a slow, deliberate dance, and she didn?t even
know the tempo.
He felt her shifting restlessly beside him, as if wanting his attention but not wanting to
attract it, before her weight left the bed and he heard her footsteps leading into the
kitchenette. "Miss Parker?" he called, and heard her pause, "When you do open that
champagne, don't forget to share."
Author: Mandy
E-mail: kitty_amazon@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17