[Fiction] WCK: Exposed!

[Contessa]

The ever so glamorous Contessa Danae sat idly at her desk attempting to scrub off the remnants of an attack by a rogue lemon filled donut whom she was sure planned the attack before executing a yellow, slimy kamikaze bombardment onto her new work shirt. Lazily she scraped away at it grumbling under her breath and muttering short creative curses. Sure the shirt was probably eleven sizes too big for her, and the pants as well, but she liked them and the pattern had caught her eye the moment she saw them (secretly she just felt that the baggier the clothing the less emphasis it placed on her figure). Now, like always, she was cursing her luck at having to spend the rest of the day with crusty lemon jelly on her shirt.

After wiping away the last of her breakfast debacle she tossed her glasses on to the desk and sipped her coffee in an attempt to do something closely resembling ‘waking up’. No more all night play-by-post role playing sessions for you Contessa Danae. Ugh, I’m going to be so worthless today. She reprimanded herself while looking at her computer monitor wondering if she had the strength to push the little ‘on’ button. But it was so far away… and almost four whole inches off the desks surface.

“Tessa! Tessa, check it out!” An overly bubbly was heard far before its owner shot around the corner and into Contessa’s cubicle.

Lethargically Tessa managed to look over at Lisa, a cast away from some bubbly over excited manga. No matter what day it was she always had the energy of forty people. In her hands she held, with obvious joy and elation, a thirteen-inch tall action figure of the Windy City Knight called ‘Revenant’. Complete with custom machine pistols, black wings, and kung-fu grip. “Please tell me you didn’t spend money on that… thing, Lisa.” She managed to groan out.

“Duh, course’ I did. Isn’t it cool? He even talks, check it out!” Gingerly she pressed the button located between the action figures shoulder blades.

“The Lord ain’t comin’, might as well stop callin’ im’.”

<Gunshot> <gunshot <gunshot> “Freeze.”

Lisa gripped her action figure close and hugged him like he was a new puppy. “Ain’t he awesome? Ugh, I think he’s soooo cool.”

“He is a filthy barbarian, hardly worth the calories that were burned during his conception.” Contessa said plainly. “Nice body though.” She amended with a wry grin and a cocked eyebrow.

Lisa and her shared a giggle before Lisa quickly stammered out, “Oh! Mr. Dawson said for me to send you to him when you got in. That was about an hour ago, I figured you’d need some time to get settled. Were you up all night again?”

“Yeah.” Lisa shot her a look. “I know, I know… shut up. I’ll go see Mr. Dawson in a minute. I need more coffee… and a shot of adrenaline.” Contessa’s head hit her desk with an audible ‘thud’ as she mocked crying. She hated having to see her boss, Mr. Dawson.

---,---‘-{@ @}-‘---,---

Casually she walked into Mr. Dawson’s office. It wasn’t that she hated the guy, but he was a bit of a pig. During every conversation she had ever had with him he always seemed to stare more at her ‘assets’ than her eyes. Contessa was a nova, for the most part that was no secret around the office. She was also credited as an incredibly beautiful nova on top of that, something she wasn’t really to comfortable with. She had always been shy and now that her node had made her the center of attention it was sometimes too much to bear. She wore baggy clothes to escape wandering eyes, and little to no make-up in an attempt conceal her (un)natural beauty.

Mr. Dawson spun around in his chair holding a manila folder in his hand. His cheap cigar smelling up his office and Contessa felt like she was suddenly in some issue of Spider-Man coming to collect money for photos she took of herself.

“Sit down Danae!” He spoke with a stern, loud voice. The type that no one could ever deny that they didn’t hear a single word or take anything he said not heard clearly. “Second thought! Stand. You won’t be here that long.”

Ugh, he even talks like Jameson. Certainly smells like him.

“Tell me something Danae, what do you think of The Windy City Knights?” He asked, chewing on his foul cigar.

“Morons. Mostly. They are an axiomatic intravenous in Chicago, the city’s constant supply of chaos. Most can’t think, and all of them are barbaric, dribbling idiots. Every female member has left the team, running for their lives no doubt from the incessant advances of those testosterone driven lug heads. One female quit to become a lesbian. Another already was a full-blown lesbian. And another has to work from her secret lair on an island somewhere because she has a bad knee and probably couldn’t run away fast enough when one of them began drooling over her.”

“Excellent! Glad you feel that way.” His grin was almost ear-to-ear. “Because you’re doing an expose on them.”

I am Contessa raging bile duct. She turned green. It took all of her willpower not to scream at the top of her lungs. “Wha- Why? Why me?” She stood between the two chairs in front of his desk using one of them to help keep her balance. “Mr. Dawson, please, can’t someone else do this? I mean, Greg’ll do it. Oh, or Lisa! She loves that Revenant guy. She’ll gladly take the story. I’ll cover food shows, animal hospitals… anything just not those guys.”

“You’re the best writer I got Danae.” He pointed his stubby digits at her clamping his cigar between them. “Plus, you’re a nova. You got common ground with them, they’ll open up to you more, trust you.”

“Bu-“

“And, I pay your salary. Now get going, and for Christ’s sake, go see Evelyn and get rid of that dashiki you’re wearing. My god that thing is atrocious.”

She took a quick look at herself. “But… I like it. It’s a nice pattern.”

“You like it? HA! All the more reason to burn it! See Evelyn, that’s an order!”

Jerk She thought to herself as she left his office on her way to Evelyn’s office, if you could call it that. ‘Eve’ was the fashion consultant for the N!quirer, the magazine Contessa worked for. She really didn’t like going to see her since Tess had to cover a gala for the mayor last season and Eve picked out a gown for Contessa that Tessa really didn’t approve of. In fact, Tessa was quoted saying that she ‘would have been better off going naked’. However until that night Contessa was never aware her chest could be elevated that high.

---,---‘-{@ @}-‘---,---

Two hours and a short flight over Lake Michigan Contessa landed on a pier in a less crowded stretch of the shore and walked to the nearest intersection to hail a cab. The heels were already bothering her, and the blazer was so tight she could barely sit down in the cab comfortably. How people wear things like this everyday is beyond me. she complained silently tugging the knee length skirt that completed her business woman attire.

Evelyn had done it to her again. She took Contessa out and helped select a look for her that would scream professional business woman. Tessa had to wonder what profession Eve had in mind. The suit was nice, but wearing just the blazer and no blouse to show off her buoyancy was not anywhere near what Tessa had in mind when she thought of ‘professional business woman’. “Trust me, it’s all men there.” Eve said to her in the salon. “Show a little of this, a little of that, and trust me. They’ll hang on you’re every word.”

So, here she was, walking into the WCK Tower in Chicago with, her hair tight behind her in a ponytail and her glasses resting snuggly across the bridge of her nose. Aside from the heels, she had to admit there was a certain empowering feeling to looking like a corporate VP. With her bad morning slowly developing into a bad afternoon she decided to just grin and bear it, but not before she had a little fun with this whole ‘professional business woman’ thing.

May as well act the part. She thought as she approached the receptionist. “Excuse me. I’m here to see ‘Jager’ of the Windy City Knights. I’m Ms. Danae of the N!quierer, I have an appointment.”

The baseline receptionist hung on every word that passed through Tessa’s full ruby red lips. “One moment. Please. I’ll page him immediately.”

This could be fun. She grinned inwardly. No problem. These boys are not going to get the best of me. I’m not having it. Contessa Jane Danae, you are not going to let any of these crusty, low life, pond scum barbarians so much see one droplet of sweat. It’s game time girl. Grr.

[z-Sean McCline]

Sean jerked upright as his phone buzzed, a post-it note obscuring half of one eye. His large hands fumbled gracefully for the phone with one hand while he ripped the pink, heart-shaped note from his face. "Yeah," he grumbled into the phone as he sourly regarded the feminine note. The pad was a birthday gift from his daughter - the same daughter who had had a sleepover last night and had exiled him from their room. He'd had to hire a babysitter at fifteen an hour just to get one who'd come work at the tower. And he'd fallen asleep at his desk, instead of pulling the all-nighter he'd planned on. Which meant that he was still behind on his paperwork.

"Mr. McCline, I need your help," Anise said, her Southern-influenced voice twanging in his ear. "Mr. Jager had an appointment today, but he was called out on an emergency in DeKalb. Mr. Cade's talking with People today in their studio at NBC, Revenant's off-duty, Mr. Access is not answering my calls, Mr. Alchemist is-"

"Look, please, stop," Sean moaned. "I don't need the Windy City Knights roll call. I assume that I'm the first Knight you've reached who doesn't have plans?"

"Yep," she gleefully confirmed.

"Fu-Friggin' spectacular. May I also assume that you're telling me that I need to meet up with this appointment of his?"

"Yep."

"Sweet Je-Jacks," Sean sighed. "What kind of appointment is this?"

"A reporter, doing a piece on the Knights."

"Sonova b-Bangkok whore," Sean said, then winced when he realized he shouldn't have changed his words at all. Anise's soft snickering only made it worse. As a lesbian, she was one of the few receptionists who didn't treat Sean like a sizzlin' beefcake. Usually, he enjoyed it; today, he could have used some doe-eyed adoration to offset what was turning out to be a shitty day. "Alright. Give me five; I'll be right down."

He ran a comb through his hair - finding a paperclip in the process - and splashed some water on his face in the men's bathroom. He quickly changed his eufiber into a nice white shirt and black slacks; he even added a hunter green tie that accented his eyes. He almost looked respectable, save those damned black-rimmed eyes of his.

Rather than take the stairs, he stepped out his window and let his flight drop him the multiple stories to the sidewalk. Then he casually stepped into the lobby, smiling at Anise and ignoring the fact that the wind had tousled his hair again. The reporter could cope. "Hey, Anise, who is it?" he asked, looking around the bustling lobby. There were always people coming and going on this matter or that and any of them could be his reporter.

Why did he always get stuck with the shit jobs? Because you do them, moron, he told himself, turning as Anise pointed to a blonde woman he'd noted out of the corner of his eye. Become a anti-social asshole like Reven and watch this kind of bullshit pass you by. Then you won't have to be stuck hand-holding some shifty-eyed, nosy bitch in a cheap sui-

She was breath-taking. Sean's opinion did a one-hundred and eighty degree turn as his brain reoriented itself. -blue-eyed, dazzling woman in the hottest hot librarian suit I've ever seen. "Hi," he offered with a broad grin, stepping forward and extending his hand, "I'm Sean McCline of the Knights, and I'm going to be talking to you today instead of Jager. I'm afraid he got called away on business."

[Contessa]

She gracefully accepted the hand of the stunningly attractive Sean McCline of the Windy City Knights. Dear god is he beautiful. She thought as her sapphire shimmering eyes met his. She didn’t notice but she was now staring, and lazily shaking his hand up and down even though the initial greeting was long over with.

He was intoxicatingly attractive. His eyes were short of hypnotic and his body chiseled to nothing short of physical perfection. And his scent spun her mind into a direction that traveled to places on her body she had given little attention to in her twenty one years of life.

"I'm Sean McCline of the Knights, and I'm going to be talking to you today instead of Jager. I'm afraid he got called away on business."

“I’m wet… I mean… I’ll bet! I’ll bet. Hehe.” She squinted like an idiot while already turning red, hoping McCline would let it go, like Flea did during her meeting with him awhile back. “So. You’re the guy who drew the shortest straw today huh? You have to spend time with the media gal?”

Snap out of it girl. Game time remember… game time! Grr… GRR!. Don’t let em get to you.

“I’m Contessa. Contessa Danae, with the N!quierer. I’m here to do a piece on the men of the WCK.” She grinned the grin of an assassin plunging his dagger into the vitals. She had some knowledge of Sean, the self-proclaimed ladies man of the WCK. No fear girl. No fear. “Have you, by chance seen one around? I’m a bit pressed for time.”

[z-Sean McCline]

"Ah ha ha," Sean said, maintaining his good humor despite the virtual sensation of clippers clipping off his balls. Her eyes helped a lot, as did the deep crevice and shadow between the lapels of her jacket - which he was proud to say he only looked at once. "Witty. And low. Just about the depth I'd expect from someone from the N!quirer." He kept his grin loose and easy, trying to see if she could take it as well as dish it.

Deep inside, though he was a little bewildered at her opening salvo. No boogers, I checked that upstairs... have I pissed her off somewhere? I'm sure I haven't met her before. Or is she just in the practice of aiming low? But he knew he'd had an effect on her - the 'wet' comment along with the deep blush had been as clear a sign as letters of smoke written across the sky. If nothing else, they were a pleasant ego stroke, though he'd much rather she working stroking something else.

"Well, Contessa, Contessa Danae of the N!quirer, how do we want to do this? Would you like a tour, or just shoot straight to my office for a little one-on-one?" I didn't just say that. Oh, yes... yes, I did just say that. He gave her his best 'devil-may-care' smile, all too aware of the effect it had on women and men. He leaned closer, inhuman eyes sparkling as he murmured softly, "This is my first time being interviewed by such a beautiful, witty reporter; please, be gentle."

Okay, so he looked twice. He was only a man, after all. A man faced with a woman dressed like Van Halen video, who had the most glorious blue eyes and blonde hair; with a body that jiggled where it should, and didn't jiggle where it shouldn't.

Okay, it was three times now. Think about how nice her eyes are, and keep yours there. Before you come off as a lecherous jerk. A little voice told him that he was way too late for that, probably.

[Contessa]

Woah. Eve, good call. This guy is in Cleavage, Ohio getting more and more lost by the second. She grinned slightly for reasons unknown to Sean. While Contessa may have been a rather naïve young lady when it came to the subject of men, women, and sexuality. She was not however stupid. The mega intelligent nova woman had read more literature than was probably healthy. Deep down there were things she hoped she would one day explore, but for now she felt is was better to build her arsenal of knowledge. Play his game, get the story, and get out of this place. Tonight, I’ll send a long sweet e-mail to Tim to clear my mind.

“Well, Mr. McCline, aren’t we ambitious?” She giggled at the comment about going to his office. “Thank you by the way, compliments are always welcome.” Like I don’t hear that twenty times a day. Leech.

Smiling, she looked in his eyes, or at least tried to get a fix on them as they wandered. “Tell you what. Before a tour, why not you and I go to your office. There we can talk in private and perhaps refrain from embarrassing one another publicly. My words are getting twisted and your eyes can’t seem to find mine.” She paused there to inform him that she noticed him salivating over her well-compressed cleavage. “Let’s sit down, and start over? Hmm?”

[z-Sean McCline]

Sean sighed, glancing at the high ceiling in silent supplication. But God wasn't up there, and Sean was on his own. "Sure," he said, waving toward the elevator. "We can do whatever you want, Ms. Danae," he told her with a smile.

The elevator quickly delivered them to his floor, and his office was not far away. He showed her in, grimacing at the mess on his desk, and hoping that she interepted it as 'busy' rather than 'unorganized.' But given how she had been busting his balls up to this point, he held little hope.

Fine. Let's try the direct route. She sat down and he sat across from her, leaning forward and clasping his hands. "First, can I get you anything? Drink? Smoke, which no, sorry, is actually not allowed in the building, so... something to eat?"

"No, I can get it," she said, drawing out a digital recorder. Sean realized that she was also digging in his mini-fridge. "You have beer at work?"

"I..." His brain ran quickly through the possible answers before settling on an Occum's realization: cloning. And as his brain wrestled with that concept for a moment - jello wrestling, apparently - he answered, "Because it doesn't affect me in the least, but I like the taste of Blue Moon Belgian White. It's a wheat beer. Help yourself. Selves. If you want something stronger, I'll need to go get it from the kitchen."

"That's ok," Contessa said, taking the bottle from the clone. Sean gave her a smile, wondering if that was clone protocol, and she blushed much like the real Contessa had downstairs. This one did not commmit any verbal faux pas before disappearing in a rain of gold dust; Sean managed to not ask if the dust would get stuck in his carpet like Iharra's glitter did.

"And now, to start over. My name is Sean McCline and I work for the Knights," Sean sighed, wishing belatedly that he'd gotten a beer. "I'm sorry if- that I acted unprofessionally downstairs. I'm not very good at handling beautiful women; I admit it. In fact, all of my worst moments in life trace back to beautiful women. Not that I'm not saying that I haven't earned all that trouble... just I suck at it, and you're one of the prettiest women I've ever seen, so I'm in really deep trouble.

"Now that I've established that I'm not the best PR guy on the Knights," Sean said, leaning back and crossing his arms, "I'm sure you have some questions for me." He gave her a quick smile. "Go ahead - fire away." He nailed his eyes on her face and waited for the barrage.

[Contessa]

“Okay, Mr. McCline, can I be honest with you?” She started taking a sip straight from the bottle, which didn’t help Sean’s currently wandering imagination. “I did not want this assignment and frankly I’d like nothing more than to go home and leave you to your work.” She looked around at the clutter on his desk. “Or, leave you to locate your work for that matter. But, I can’t.”

She crossed her stocking sheathed leg over the other exposing a hint of the garter further up her skirt. “Thank you, I do appreciate your compliments, but if I had a dollar for every time someone called me beautiful I’d have retired by now.” Visibly Contessa sighed, her day was completely sucking, hardcore, and she was taking it out on Sean. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been having one of those days where nothing is going right. It’s not fair of me to take that out on you.”

Leaning forward she set the recorder and her open beer on the edge of his desk. “Here I promised a ‘start over’ and still I’m acting like a…” She paused looking at Sean’s expression, like would have no problem finishing her sentence for her. Yet, he remained calm, listening and remaining as impartial as he could despite her barrage of unpleasantries. “Well, you know. For starters, you can call me Contessa, or Tessa if you like. No point in being formal, I’m not your boss or anything.” She looked around at his desk, his unkempt hair, and the few empty beer bottles scattered here and there. She pushed her round wire-framed glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose. “And, lucky for you.” She added with a humored smile.

“So,” Tessa started, pulling her blazer down a bit unintentionally giving Sean a better view. He could tell the grilling was about to begin, not that he minded considering his new vantage point. Opening her attaché case she procured a file, the same one Mr. Dawson was reading earlier. “Sean Marion McCline.” Contessa giggled. “Marion? That’s cute.” Be nice, he doesn’t seem like that bad of a guy. “Age, Twenty-five…ish. Flight, speculated probability corruption, and varying degrees of strength and physical fortitude. Erupted at fifteen while in a hospital killing several and crippling many others.” She closed the file and adjusted her glasses. “Wow, so how does a Terat with close affiliates within the Primacy become a member of a team of municipal defenders? Quite a bit of blood on those hands Mr. McCline, is this your way for atoning?”

[z-Sean McCline]

She was a different person when she was on the hunt; stronger, tougher and more vicious. It suited her well; he wondered what she'd be like if she was that person all the time.

Between the hint of garter and the cleavage flash, Sean had an inspiration. Dude, you're being played. They're dangling warm T&A in front of you, and waiting for you to curl around it like a cat around a warm toaster, he realized. It made him sad, both that they'd try it and that he'd almost fallen for it. Hell, he may still fall for it; he hadn't lied about being weak.

Time to even things up a bit.

"First, a clarification," he said, leaning forward. "Your file forgot a detail; in addition to varying my physical fortitude, I can vary my appearance." His quantum flared, and he felt it crawl over his skin, evening his skin even more, reducing minor imperfections to nothingness. In a second, his beauty matched her own.

He gave her a beat to google, then spoke as if he had done nothing at all. "I joined the Teragen for the parties when I was fifteen; I was in the Primacy by eighteen. I was young and stupid and thought I was doing the right thing by supressing the evil baselines," he stated calmly enough, but his body language hinted at discomfort.

"And then I almost became a father, and I freaked out and was stupider," he continued, smoothing a wrinkle out of his sleeve. "Then I did become a father, and I had a wake-up call.

"I joined the Knights, well, maybe it was atonement," Sean shrugged. His green eyes settled directly on her, intense and green. "I don't want to call it that, because nothing I can do can make up for what I've done. All I can do is be better in the future." This was his standard line; he'd told it to dozens of people, again and again.

"Actually," he said, winking at her to signal that he was joking, "don't tell anyone, but I joined the Knights for the dental plan. It's fantastic.

"As for how I joined," he added, becoming serious again, "I just contacted Sandcaster and let her know I was interested. She interviewed me, and offered me a position here. I like to think that I've proven that I'm a reliable member of the team, and that I've earned some trust from the citizens of Chicago."

[Contessa]

Sean McCline’s new physical perfection swam over Contessa in a swarm of sensations. In an instant she fell in love (albeit in a pure physical sense) and suddenly discovered for herself why men swoon over her the way they do. In an instant a mix of desire, lust, and fear crawled over her skin. Unfortunately she was only familiar with one of those feelings out of the three so she did her best to ignore onslaught of mixed emotions.

She had felt it with Tim, and now with Sean. The more she was exposed to the world around her and faced with gentleman she couldn’t just turn away (or didn’t want to) the more feelings and odd sensations she felt. She was by no means was she ignorant, Contessa had studied human behavior and sexuality several times in preparation for the man she would marry in one of her far off fantasy realms she created when she was younger.

But let’s face it reading about it never holds a candle to having it shoved in your face like Green Eggs and Ham. Relax. He’s just one man. Quit staring! She scolded herself, but it was too late. Sean had her hook line and sinker. His little trick was now producing enough pheromones that Contessa was certainly distracted by the collecting moisture twixt her nethers.

“M-Mr. McCline” she managed to stammer out. “How, about the other member of your team? What are your opinions on them? It appears that all the WCK is comprised of is ex-terrorists, ex-elites, or ex-psychopaths using this a convenient medium to serve their sentence.”

Sean noticed as she clenched her thighs tighter, her mind more wrapped up in trying to not be distracted by his sudden appearance change in a modern day Adonis then on her questions.

Contessa’s aberration quickly felt the sudden intrusion of Sean’s quantum grace. And it wasn’t having it. Her node blessed her with her greatest desire when she erupted: to be a beautiful, perfect woman and the center of attention no matter where she went. (Yeah, talk about poorly worded wishes.) Already it had begun attempting to counter Sean’s little trick as best it could.

[z-Sean McCline]

He'd started a war of attrition, but he'd already fired his big gun. Well, not my biggest gun, an ugly voice leered in his head, and frankly we shouldn't fire that until we're in position. And by 'in' I mean 'inside,' and by 'position,' I mean 'her.'

Answer the goddamned questions! he snapped at himself. With effort, he focused on her question. "Revenant is the only one serving a sentence, and he's doing so willingly," Sean said firmly, his thumb rubbing against his thigh without his knowledge or approval. When he realized what he was doing, he tightened the eufiber over his crotch until the discomfort brought some clarity. "He is a valuable member of our team, who, while having some rough edges, has shown himself to be an outstanding law enforcement officer." It was the straight from the PR officer's desk. Sean had said it to the press so often that he sometimes said it in his sleep, or so Iharra had told him once.

"I've had no problems with any of my co-workers," Sean continued. "They are all fine, amazing examples of peace officers, and I am proud to serve with them." He sounded like he came out of a recruitment pamphlet, damn it. But it was the truth. "They're my buddies as well, and I'd trust any of them with my life, or any of my families' lives.

"Next? Got a harder question for me?" He smiled, locking his eyes into her's with the intensity of a dog seeing a steak. He wouldn't - couldn't look down. Not for anything. Never ever. Eyes. They're all she has. Brillant blue eyes. Awesome blue eyes.

I'm... drowning in them. Fuck me.

If only she would. If only she would.

[Contessa]

Aberrated quantum energies surged through Tessa who sat oblivious to the subtleties going to work within her body. Those gorgeous sapphire hued eyes that Sean adored so much became even more mesmerizing. Her full red lips became pouty and enticing to the Irish nova and he noticed her hair gloss over into a quantum tinted strawberry blonde. In the matter of an instant Contessa had become everything Sean McCline had ever wanted in a woman… and more.

And poor Contessa had no clue. Her aberration demanded she be the center of attention, even though all she desired was to get through this interview and be rid of this womanizing playboy knight as soon as she could. Sure, he was handsome (GAWD was he handsome!) but he was overconfident, and leading her along with text book PR answers stolen straight from the “How to be a Tool, for Dummies” handbook.

“Very well Mr. McCline, if you insist.” Her lips twisted into a mischievous grin that almost drove Sean’s libido over the edge. “About a year ago, rumor has it, that a Knight was kidnapped, in plain sight of one of their peers no less and the Knights had no warning, and contingency plan to deal with such an event?” She quickly loaded the second barrel and fired. “It seems that with a lack of security, like the aforementioned kidnapping, the escape of the White Rat, and The Wakinyan, the Windy City Knights have on more than one occasion proven their incompetence.” Might as well load the grenade launcher while I’m at it. “Continuously, female members of the team leave or insist on working away from the main tower. You’ve boasted on more than one occasion that you are the self proclaimed ‘Windy City Sex Machine’- do your sexual proclivities perhaps disrupt the work enviroment of your female compatriots?”

The leg she had crossed over her knee kicked gleefully back and forth inches from the lower edge of his desk. One heeled shoe dangled precariously from her foot, swaying idly as the long, flawless stretch of leg exposed by her skirt bounced tauntingly.

[z-Sean McCline]

He blinked. Rule number one in dealing with the press don't blink. Velvet had worked with him and cured him of many of the issues he'd had with the kidnapping. But nothing would ever erase the total tramua he'd experienced at Cage's hands, and nothing could stop the hard look that crossed his face. It was the expression of agony denied an outlet as Sean clamped down on it all and tackled the last question. "Hey, now, I'm hot stuff, but I'd never have a chance with Sandcaster," he grinned. "She's into girls, you know, and I am all male." He gave her a wink, noticing the effect he was having on her.

"Seriously," he added, getting a touch more somber, "I don't engage in sexual activities with my co-workers. Ever. This is a professional environment, not a bar. I don't try to use it as a place to pick women up in."

Leaning back in his chair, he put his arms behind his head. The motion stretched his upper form out, highlighting his well-muscled chest, arms and shoulders. And it gave him a better glimpse at creamy, half-hidden flesh. Wow... look at that. I bet her skin feels at least as silky as it looks. Softer than her hair.

Sean dropped his eyes to his desk, cursing himself. He wasn't helping himself. Come on, even Cade would have a hard time with this one. He'd have a hard on; difference is, with that Southern voice, he'd have her face planted in his lap already. Damn Southerns. "And... I'm sorry. What were the other questions again?"

[Contessa]

The growing agony of the fire burning down below Contessa’s posterior promised to leave Sean with, at the very least, a chair cushion he could take home to remember this day by. Everybody knows the feeling of arousal instinctually, for some however, what to do with that feeling remains clouded by the lack of ample opportunity to learn. Contessa was unfortunately one of those people.

Sitting in a room with the ‘Windy City Sex Machine’ Tessa was learning why his nickname was so well earned. He’s just doing this on purpose. Come on, buck up, don’t let him get to you. So he’s hot… okay he’s super hot. Vin Diesel hot… Andy Vance hot… Gambit hot… Wait… Tessa, girl… WAKE UP! He is the enemy, he’s a womanizing, irresponsible, poor excuse for a law enforcer and your going to expose this farce of an agency fro what it is: a waste of tax payer dollars. Quicker and quicker her crossed leg bounced, using it as something to focus, a movement or gesture that would keep her mind working.

Her next statement shook the atmosphere of the room and delivered the whole conversation into the arms of the Devil himself. “Tell you what, Mr. McCline.” She said ever word spoken seemed to come out as a sultry invite as Sean seemed totally seduced by her aberrated majesty. Frantically her leg continued bouncing keeping her mind on the job and off McCline. And then luck, albeit bad intervened. “Why don’t you just take me…” And in a sudden black suede streak Contessa’s shoe flew from her foot and soared through Sean’s office into the corner where it slammed on the third shelf of a bookcase shattering several picture frames and wreaking general havoc.

In all the following excitement Contessa forgot to utter the last part of her statement “-on a tour and we’ll talk about things as we go.”

Sean McCline was left with a shattered bookshelf and an open invitation.

[z-Sean McCline]

Sean wanted to be in front of her. Right that moment. Once he got in front of her, there were a myriad of options. But for now, getting to her was the first need. His flight kicked in without much thought, and he floated straight up and over the desk, putting a graceful spin on it.

The crunch of glass as he landed safed him. It reminded him of where he was, what he was doing - and who was with him. More importantly, it reminded him of what she was. But he couldn't quite turn it off, not now.

He gazed down at her with a dark glint in his eyes, that warm, knowing shadowed gaze that men get when they're looking at a woman and they know they have her - especially when they don't. His long arm reached out and plucked her shoe from the debris, tipping glass out of it.

Kneeling, unmindful of the glass being ground into the carpet beneath his knee, he carefully slipped the shoe back onto her foot. It was a slow slide, extremely gentle and turning something as simple as putting a shoe on a foot into a sensual sensation. His eyes were locked on hers; his fingers never touched her foot, but they were softly caressing the shoe.

When her heel slid slowly home, he took her knee with one hand and her shoe with the other. Careful to keep her legs decently shut, he unhooked her leg from where it crossed over her other knee and lowered her foot to the ground. "There's glass on the floor now," he murmured. "Isn't safe to have your shoes off."

God... her skin is soft... so incredibly soft, he moaned to himself, as his fingers unconsciously squeezed her knee before sliding off her leg in a rush of sensation. Like silk... I bet other parts are even smoother and softer.

"Thank you for the offer," he said, giving her a sultry, crooked grin, "but shouldn't we be moving on to the tour?" Yeah, time to get the fuck - no, no, don't use that word - out of here and into public areas where had a chance in hell of not flipping her over a desk. Shit, can I walk? I hope I can walk.

[Contessa]

She sat almost paralyzed. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” she said, but Sean was up and over to the accident before she had really decided on what to do about the whole matter. Casually he coasted to her and when their eyes met it was almost magical. His touch was soft, and gentle. His words were smooth, and gallant. Everything about Sean suddenly seemed to betray the nature she had strode into his office expecting.

Never had a man placed his hand on her knee so intimately, let alone one as lustful as Sean McCline, yet she was totally unafraid You can go higher… if you like. The mix of desire with a dab of a complete lack of common sense told her. Quickly her logical, if not a bit geeky side of her brain took the controls. Whoa… wake up sistah! Nuh uh… this guy equals big time predator. More than Arnold could have handled! Get… away!. She was only half listening to her rational side. He was treating her like she was suddenly the center of his world... until his mouth screwed it up.

“Thanks for the offer.” Sean said.

Contessa half grinned and looked away rather embarrassed, but still obviously enraptured. “That’s not wha-” She was swooned and she knew it. Underneath it all Contessa was actually enjoying the attention.

“But shouldn’t we be moving on to the tour?”

“Tour,” she said, quizzically lost in the tenderness of Sean’s charms. “Ahh, yes. The tour! Right. The tour.” She chuckled lightly and half-heartedly. She offered her hand to her ‘Knight’ negligent of the view it permitted the kneeling Sean McCline of her black satin panties beneath her skirt.

The scent of sex pushed his libido to its limit. Perched on the tips of his own toes Sean swiftly scooped Tessa from the chair, transferring her to his lap. Her legs rested off to his left side as he cradled her in a pose fit for a magazine shoot. He wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her from sliding off, or away. "Ya know, personally, I think that the tour sucks. Would you rather stay here and keep interrogating me?"

Stunned, and shocked, and several other words that meant anything akin to 'WTF' man! stormed through her mind. One minute he was gallant and sweet, and now he was grinding his crotch on her leg where her thigh met her butt. “Mr. McCline!” She said, completely startled. The sweet fog of rapture was blown away on the winds of male impetuousness. She looked into his eyes, her speech broken and unsure. “L-let m-me go. This is hardly profess-” His seductive gaze washed over her and her sentence fell short. “onal…”

Unsure and suddenly completely lost, Tessa bit gently on her lower lip, her eyes heavy-lidded behind her round wire framed glasses.

[z-Sean McCline]

Sean lost it. Later, he'd be mortified and he'd wonder if he was an idiot and worse. But now, there was only her, and only the one thing he hadn't had in a while: the softness of a woman. Later, he'd point out it had been years - YEARS! - for him, but right now, numbers were a pointless abstract that his sex-frenzied mind didn't have time for at the moment.

The glimpse of silky bits and the clear scent of her arousal had tripped him over the edge, but the lost look in her blue eyes carried him into madness. In truth, he lost himself in her, just as much as she was lost in sensations.

His face leaned in close to hers, his breath playing softly over her face. Thankfully, quantum augmentation of appearance applied to breath as well, and she only smelled sweet mint. He seemed seconds from kissing her, but he stopped a hair's breath from her lips. "Your lips speak soft sweetness/ Your touch a cool caress/ I am lost in your magic/ My heart beats within your chest/ I'll think of you each morning/ And will dream of you each night/ I think of your arms being around me/ And cannot express my delight/ Never have I fallen/ But I am quickly on my way/ You hold a heart in your hands/ That has never before been given away."

His hand at her waist spread wide, letting her feel the gentle strength in his fingers. The hand hooked under her knees rubbed at her leg just above the knee, and he cradled her closer still. His lips teased the air just over hers for a moment before he murmured, "You... you are amazing." His green eyes searched hers, then he moaned and ran his lips over her jaw. His lips were firm and softened by quantum, and he knew just how to nibble at the soft skin of her face.

[Contessa]

Her body shuttered and her heart ached. Contessa’s lips quivered with the beginnings of words that would never to be spoken drown in the captivating song that was Sean’s poetry. Basic human desire told her everything she wanted and needed but her sharp mind refused to concede, not here, and not like this. If Contessa were going to lose her purity it would not be here in the office of a cop whom she had just met not but twenty minutes ago.

“Sean?” A voice cooed like a dove behind him and suddenly Sean could feel hot breath upon the lobe of his ear and smell the sweet scent of Contessa’s berry flavored lip gloss assailed his senses. “I’d love for you to tell me more.” The unknown voice’s cheek rubbed gently against his.

Rather confused and a bit afraid Contessa attempted to casually place her feet on the floor hoping Sean would take the bait. Two attractive women were always far better than one.

[z-Sean McCline]

Two? Contessa had meant to disarm Sean, but all she had done was remove the last internal restriction he had. The last ounce of threadbare rational thought was crushed into nothingness between the two women.

With a low moan, he leaned forward and kissed Contessa, fervently pressing his lips to hers. She stiffened his arms, forcing her lips into a tight line - not out of disgust, but from inexperience. Meanwhile, one of his hands snaked back to the Clonetessa and rubbed up the back of her leg, leaving a warm trail of sensation against her skin.

A little off-put by her stiffness, Sean raised his head. "Relax," he whispered, nipping at her full lower lip with his teeth. "Let me... make you... melt... with just... one... kiss." He sucked at her lower lip lightly, then captured her mouth again, catching her lips half-parted.

The kiss was broken as hands caught at the side of Sean's face, pulling his head around and aggressively kissing him. The Clonetessa broke her kiss with Sean to whisper, "My turn, Sean." She was leaning over, giving Sean a full glimpse down her jacket.

He didn't kiss the clone again - or not on the lips, anyway. His head shot straight into her cleavage, tasting of rounded, honeyed skin as his hands flew to the buttons at the front of her jacket.

[Contessa]

She had been saving that one, first kiss. That one special moment in her life that she could give to her prince charming or white knight. Instead Sean McCline, the Windy City Sex Machine, had stolen that hope and light from her forever and there was little she could think of to keep her eyes from moistening. He kissed me? her mind raced around the thought as Clonetessa did her best to distract the ‘Knight’.

“Go…” Her clone mouthed silently while nodding her head in the direction of the door. “Go!”

Hastily she stood, her mind still a bit caught up in the loss of her first kiss. She took a single step and as she did so she left another clone in her place. She stood exactly where Tessa did and she wore the same confused expression that was so common on the young nova.

Sean never heard his office door open or close. Clonetessa kept his ears cupped tightly in a camouflaged gesture of keeping his face from going too far down into her cleavage. Vigorously Sean began undoing the buttons of her blazer and was two into the process when she tugged lightly on his hands signaling her desire for him to stand up face to face with her. “Ah, ah… come up here, there’s something I’ve been dying to tell you.” Her voice was sensual and smooth and crept through his senses like hands brushing across silk.

He was hard pressed to stand on his own but somehow managed. His breathing was short and came out in bated rasps of obvious excitement. Her chest was about free of the confining tight blazer and the black lace edges of her bra nearly drove Sean insane with anticipation. “Wh-what?” He asked, ready to get the conversation over with and continue work on her clothing.

“My eyes are up here sweetie.” The clone said softly luring his vision back in line with her own. “Do I have your attention?”

“One hundred percent.” Sean said through a seductive grin as he started to trail his index finger from her earlobe down to her chest.

“Goodbye.” She whispered. Her voice carried harmonies that could drive a man to the brink of ecstasy and before Sean could act on those erotic tones left that played havoc with his libido she was gone. His finger pressed lightly into a vaguely humanoid shape of golden glittery quantum essence before it lost its cohesiveness and fell lightly to the floor of his office like millions of feathers.

He turned to look around, and the office was empty. Sean McCline was alone.

---,---‘-{@ @}-‘---,---

Several blocks away Contessa Jane Danae sat on the rooftop of an unknown company in the heart of Chicago’s Downtown. Black streaks ran down cheeks slightly smeared by continuous attempts to wipe them away. She sniffled a few more times before raising her head and exposing her puffed teary eyes. That wasn’t meant for you. she silently thought as she sobbed. You had no right.

The more she thought about it the more angry she became at the thought of her first kiss being nothing like she had hoped it would be. She slid from her perch on an air-conditioning unit, hopping to the ground and staggering slightly as the heels of her shoes failed to give her footing on the loose gravel of the roof. Half on her feet and slightly leaning on the air conditioner, her eyes blurry with tears, she reached for her shoes pulling them off and while still sobbing threw them from the side of the building. “I can’t do this any more!” She cried, shouting it seemed at anyone who could hear her.

Her pitch changed as she whispered silently to herself with an expression that completely expressed defeat. “I quit.” Activating her node she rose slightly from the ground and coasted gently on the quantum breezes that would take her home.

[z-Sean McCline]

It took a full minute for what had happened to register with Sean, but when it did, it hit him with the force of a nova-powered bullet train. "FUCK!" he shouted, shoving himself into an upright sitting position against the front of his desk. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Each work was punctuated with his head slamming into the desk; on the last emphatic word, the front of the desk caved in, leaving Sean half-slumped in the debris.

The urge to flee was incredible. Two years ago, he would have. But today, he couldn't, and he knew it. With a grunt, he pulled clear of his desk, trying to think. Things were resettling; the blood in his body wasn't restricted to one area anymore. But as much as he knew that he was in trouble, there was someone else he was more concerned with.

Moving to his OpNet terminal, he started to do a search. Almost immediately, a crack arched up the center of his desk and the thick alloy broke in half. Sean jammed his knee up under the two halves and locked his leg into place, grumbling about shoddy workmanship as he found what he was looking for and then began to type in earnest.

The next time Contessa checked her work email, she'd find the following, sincere apology:

Ms. Danae,

I'm sitting down, trying to type out a suitable apology to you, but frankly, nothing I can say is enough. So I'll say that I acted in a terrible manner and I can only offer my more sincere apologies. I truly thought I had more self-control, but I clearly don't, and I'm sorry then I can say that you had to find that out the hard way.

If I can do anything for you - preferably from multiple miles away, I'm sure - I'll be happy to help.

Sincerely,

Sean McCline

After that was sent, he started on his next project - the completion of Leave of Absense form. This had gone on long enough; it was time for Sean to fix some things about himself, things he couldn't do here, with the Knights.

Maybe this time he could run toward something, instead of away from it.