Author ‘s Notes: Please, nobody take this little story seriously. It‘s just a little smut biscuit because I was feeling a bit down, so I wrotesomething really smutty to cheer myself up. No plot involved here. I wasreading some old favorites (yes, they were smut too, and deliciously so,I might add), when I realized I ‘ve never written anything truly plotless.So here it is.

Ah, and in case you ‘re wondering about the title: Whilst reading mywell thumbed copy of Star Trek: The Next Generation Companion I becameintrigued with the idea of a bottle show. A bottle show being when a seriesis running low on cash, so it will write a script that doesn ‘t need ahuge budget, perhaps setting it all in the one place. I thought, what wouldhappen if a Pretender story was set all in the one place? What if it wasset all in the one room? What if Miss Parker and Jarod were in the oneroom? What if they were hot, causing one or more of them to start sheddingclothes? Then I spent half an hour staring into space. Then I took a shower.I painted my nails and stared into space a bit more. Then I heated up somecanned dead meat and ate it with toast. And finally I went and WROTE THESTORY.

Here is the result. Sorry for my abnormally long ramblings...
 
 

Ten feet wide and twelve feet long. A TV that was made before Christ,and a double bed that used to be a queens size, but has now shrunken intotight little lumps. A mini-fridge full of beer, cheese and crackers, aceiling fan on the verge of giving up the ghost and a wobbly wooden bedsidetable. Some shelves with some musty smelling bed linen on it. A microscopicbathroom that hasn ‘t been cleaned since Reagan was in.  And a verylocked door.

This has to be Jarod ‘s fault.

‘This has to be your fault.’‘ I tell him. Jarod turns away from thevery locked door to glare at me.

‘Don ‘t. Start.’‘ He enunciates carefully, then turns back to the door.I pull out a nail file, shifting my ass on the bed to try and get comfy.

 Jarod turns around again, staring at my nail file. My long, thin,metal nail file.

‘Give me that!’‘ Jarod demands harshly. I roll my eyes, passing it tohim. I know what he ‘s thinking and I ‘ve already thought of that.

‘I know what you ‘re thinking and I ‘ve already thought of that!’‘ Isay, too loudly. Jarod turns back to the door, swearing when he realisesthe hinges are on the other side. He turns to the keyhole.

‘Hello! Big bolt on the other side, genius, we both heard it slide home.‘‘I yell. I study my nails. ‘Can I have my file back now?’‘

‘So, what?’‘ Jarod snarls, thrusting the file at me. ‘We sit here inthis steam room and wait to be found?’‘

‘The windows are just waiting to be opened.’‘ I sigh, and wave at thewindows. The two long windows with enough bars across them so that there‘s no chance in hell of either of us climbing through it, even if I didwant to ruin my two hundred dollar dress. Not to mention the shoes. And*silk* stockings. Not pantyhose, but stockings. Garters and all. I wasmeant to be having a good time today.

‘Fine.’‘ Jarod mutters, and leaps up onto the bed. I squeal as he rocksthe bed, striding across the bed and reaching for the windows. He standsover my legs, shoving the windows open. Brilliant. They ‘re the kind thatonly open halfway. So much for a cool breeze. I hate Louisiana. In fact,I hate everywhere right now. Jarod hops down from the bed, crashing hisway into the bathroom. No window there, either. He swears again, emergingto stand over the bed, glowering at me. I file my nails. Polish needs atouch-up.

‘I can ‘t believe you.’‘ He finally growls in disgust. I shrug, andone silk shoulder strap slips.  The bodice of my gorgeous dress dropsa little. Jarod sheds his suit jacket, and flops on the bed beside me indefeat.

We sit in silence. A fly buzzes in, bats around a bit then buzzes outagain. The fan overhead turns slowly, moving the hot air around but notcooling it. Sweat is beginning to make my dress stick in all the wrongplaces.  Then again, Jarod ‘s casting sidelong glances at me. Maybeit is in all the right places. I uncross my legs, my back against the headboard,shift, then recross them. Jarod watches every move.

‘Nice dress.’‘ He says gruffly. I smile tightly. A peace offering.

‘Nice suit.’‘ I tell him. He shrugs. An unspoken truce.

‘Versace?’‘ he asks. I nod.

‘Armani?’‘ I ask. He nods.

‘Only the best.’‘ Jarod murmurs. I snicker.

‘Anybody would think you were gay. Does the words ‘Martha Stewart ‘make you go all tingly, Jarod?’‘ I sneer. Dead silence. A beat. Two beats.A whole moment passes. Then there ‘s a sound that ‘s a little like a strangledcough. I look at Jarod.

‘You ‘re laughing!’‘ I accuse. Jarod tries to pull a straight face.

‘I am not!’‘ he exclaims solemnly, then ruins the effect by making achoked giggle. He ‘s teetering on the edge of open amusement.

‘Martha Stewart.’‘ Jarod mumbles to himself, and drops his head to hischest in an attempt to hide a smile. I grin. The moment passes.

‘What the hell were you doing at Veronica Dolliag ‘s garden party?’‘He asks finally. I smile bitterly.

‘Daddy sent me. They used to date. One of the family had to attend topay their respects, and I drew the short straw.’‘ I explain. Jarod nods.‘And you?’‘ I ask.

‘Investigating Dr Charles Dolliag. He invited me to his mother ‘s birthdayparty.’‘ Jarod tells me. I ‘m not surprised. Everybody likes Jarod, eventhe people he ‘s out to get.

‘That must be the reason he took great offence to you rummaging throughhis things, suspected both of us and pulled a gun.’‘

Jarod shrugs.

‘Not my fault you followed me into the study. We ‘re just lucky thatthe good doctor didn ‘t want to ruin his mother ‘s party by redecorating.Wall paper a la brain matter.’‘ Jarod jokes. I chuckle, then contemplatemy adorable shoes.

‘Can ‘t believe the old bag finally turned sixty.’‘ I mutter. Jarodchuckles.

‘I ‘ve been told that Veronica ‘s parties are always the social spotlightof the season.’‘ Jarod murmurs. I snort derisively.

‘The Mardi Gras is the spotlight, Jarod. Veronica ‘s parties are a dimglobe rigged with gaffer tape off to one side of the main stage.’‘

‘Ah.’‘

I hate awkward silences.  And this has to be the most uncomfortablebed in human history. We ‘d better get out of here before tomorrow. I donot want to sleep here.

‘Where ‘s your cell?’‘ Jarod asks suddenly, reaching for my purse. Isnatch it away from him, sniffing disdainfully.

‘Delaware. Along with my beeper and my gun. Thank your lucky stars forthat last one.’‘ I really, really wish I had my gun right now. Jarod sagsback against the bed.

‘Thought you took your cell everywhere...’‘ he mumbles.

‘Well, in some twisted way, it makes sense that I stumble across youthe one time I leave it behind.’‘ I grumble. Jarod nods absentmindedly,staring at the wall. Afternoon sunshine falls across the bed. Its hot,and its going to get hotter. I grab Jarod ‘s wrist and check his watch.Rolex?  Just past one. I drop his wrist. Jarod frowns.

‘You paint your toenails?’‘ he gasps incredulously, his nose wrinkledup a bit. I look down at my strappy stiletto sandals, said nails shininga glossy pink. Matches my dress.

‘Women do it a lot Jarod.’‘ I say, and Jarod stares at my feet in bemusement.In fact, I had the whole deal, pedicure, manicure and facial.

‘Whatever.’‘ He mumbles under his breath. I elbow him in the ribs. Hemakes an ‘ooph ‘ noise, and wriggles.

‘Quit squirming.’‘ I snap. He shrugs, and rests his head back on theheadboard. Stares at the ceiling for awhile.

‘He ‘s not coming back, is he?’‘ Jarod finally says. I shake my head.

‘This isn ‘t a practical joke Jarod. He ‘s locked us in the middle offrikkin ‘ nowhere, and he ‘s gone back to Veronica ‘s little garden party.Maybe he ‘ll be back after that, but thanks to your poking around, it willprobably be to kill us. Thankyou very much.’‘

‘How long do Veronica ‘s ‘little garden parties ‘ usually last?’‘

‘The weekend.’‘ I state. I know. I had to go a few years ago. I gotas drunk as possible as quickly as possible and spent the weekend fendingof Charles and his pals more amorous advances.

‘Sorry Parker. I ‘ll find a way out.’‘ Jarod says quietly. Damn him.

‘You ‘re not on my Christmas card list anymore.’‘ I say belligerently. Jarod tries to suppress a laugh, but fails miserably.

My thighs are beginning to stick together. Damn this heat.

‘You smell nice!’‘ Jarod says abruptly. I glower at him.

‘If that ‘s some attempt to be funny, I swear to God-’‘

‘No, really, you smell nice!’‘ Jarod interrupts. He leans into me andsniffs delicately. ‘Kinda tangy. Bit musky. Sweet.’‘ I remember the dabsof perfume I put on this morning. Behind my ears, on my wrists, betweenmy breasts. Named simply B04711, the perfume my mother used to wear. Jarodleans in even closer to my neck and snuffles around some more. I open mypurse and pull out a tiny glass bottle, unscrewing the lid. I wave it underhis nose.

‘Like this?’‘ Jarod sits back, taking the bottle from me, closing hiseyes and inhaling.

‘Very nice.’‘ He purrs. He ‘s got this look of bliss on his face. Igrab the bottle away, screw the lid on and put it away. Jarod eyes my purse.

‘What else you got in there?’‘ he ventures with a smile. Just what Idon ‘t need. Playful Jarod. He grabs the purse before I can protest, rummagingthrough it. Might as well let him. He ‘ll sook unless he gets to play withmy stuff.

Jarod pulls out my lipstick, takes the lid of, winds the stick up andgazes at the colour. He looks at my lips, looks at the colour, then looksat my breasts. I frown.

‘Go like this.’‘ Jarod drags his eyes back up to mine and demonstratesa pout. I groan. ‘Come on. I ‘ve never put make-up on a woman before.‘‘He pleads. I close my eyes, lean forward and pout.

‘Jarod, most men have never put lipstick on a woman before.’‘ I mumble.

‘Hold still.’‘

 Jarod catches my chin with his hand, bringing it forward. He mustbe close, I can feel his breath on my cheek. Then comes the familiar sensationof lipstick being applied, the waxy texture sliding across my mouth. Jarod‘s breathing has grown a little erratic, and he smudges more colour overmy lips. The firm press of the lipstick leaves, but his hand on my chindoesn ‘t. I rub my lips together to spread the colour. Jarod sighs. I hearthe lid snapping back on the lipstick, but his hand doesn ‘t let me go. In fact, it drops lower, cupping the arch of my throat. I keep my eyesclosed. I feel one long finger slide across my collar bone, and the otherstrap of my dress slip off my shoulder. I am so completely aware that thismust leave my breasts half exposed. Almost to the nipple, perhaps.

‘All done.’‘ Jarod breathes. He withdraws his hands and the slight fanof his breath is no longer on my cheek. I open my eyes, furious.

‘You fucker!’‘ I growl, and storm into the bathroom, slamming the doorbehind me. I can hear Jarod laughing on the other side.

****

It ‘s hotter in the bathroom than the other room, and after only twentyminutes I ‘m sweating like Roseanne after a quick walk. Damn him. I canhear him shifting about, the TV on. Cartoons or something, the way he ‘slaughing with glee. I ‘ll make him suffer for what he did to me. I ‘llmake him suffer in the worse way. I fling the door open and stan

d in the doorway, glaring at him. Jarod spares a quick glance from theTV to look at me, then quickly looks away. He chuckles as Wile E Coyotefalls off yet another cliff.

I stroll over to ‘my ‘ side of the bed, picking up my purse. I reallyam starting to smell. I take out my little bottle of perfume, and poura few drops onto my hands. Jarod casts another quick glance at me, butI pointedly ignore him. Then I arch my back, tip my head back and startsmoothing the perfume onto my neck in long, caressing strokes. Jarod gulps.A few more drops on my hands and I start on my chest. My dress has donewonderful things to my breasts, being tight across the bodice, pressingthem up and out. I smooth my hands down my breastbone and across the topsof my breasts, which bounce invitingly with the motion. Jarod now has hiseyes glued to my chest. Time for phase 2.

The beer, straight from the mini-fridge, is refreshingly cool in myhot little hands. I deliberately knock it on the fridge door on the wayout, then twist the lid off. Good little thing that it is, it froths, andruns over a little. What a mess, have to clean that up straight away. Withmy tongue of course. I have Jarod ‘s complete and undivided attention asI lick the dribble of overflowing beer from the side of the bottle. Makingsure to catch every drop, I make slow progress, licking and lapping atthe long, thick, bottle, finally reaching the top, only to wrap my moutharound the rim tightly and throw my head back, taking a long, deep draw...

I think he groaned. Or, at least, tried to stifle a groan. Phase three.

The temperature is close to unbearable, and I can see Jarod is sweatingquite heavily in his dark trousers and business shirt. At some stage he‘s shed his shoes and socks, leaving him barefoot. Very carefully I placemy beer on top of the fridge and step out of my sandals. Jarod gulps asI reach under my skirt, letting it ride up a bit, and begin to remove onestocking, smoothing it down my leg with my open palms, revealing bare,silky skin. I happen to know that my legs are my best asset, and I ‘llmake sure that Jarod fully appreciates that. Jarod makes a strangled noisewhen I toss the discarded stocking on the bed near him, and is damn closeto panting as I start on the other stocking.

This time I prop my leg up on the bed, the skirt of my dress fallingso that Jarod just barely avoids getting an eyeful. I finally tug the scrapof sheer silk off my toes and toss it on the bed. Jarod ‘s eyes are asbig as saucers as I clamber up onto the bed beside him, crawling over tobring my lips close to his ear, making sure my breasts are pressing againsthis arm. I can see his hands twitching in his lap, like he wants to touchme but doesn ‘t dare.
 

‘Jarod?’‘ I sigh in his ear, porn star-esque. He makes some little chokedup noises which I take to be an answer. I place my hand on his shoulderand rub my breasts against him.

‘Don ‘t ever fuck with the master!’‘ I snap, and shove. Jarod topplesoff the bed, landing on his ass with a thud and staring up at me in surprise.I cackle with laughter.

--------

Mandy.
 
 
 

Feedback please  to Mandy at :kitty_amazon@yahoo.com
 
 

part 2