* This story is set after the closing credits of The Miracle Worker.
* As you all know, they’re not my characters, they belong to those guys at Warner Brothers, Constant-C, or NBC.
* I’m English, so please excuse any strange words I come out with.
* The song featured is ‘Walking Softly’ by a British group called Spinning World.
* Feedback is appreciated. Thanks.
Walking Softly
by Jo
dynamojo26@hotmail.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Breathe and I’ll breathe with you
Laugh and I’ll laugh too
Cry and I will comfort you
Frown and I will smile for you
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had come as a surprise for Carol. Doug’s adamant refusal to come to mass that evening had not only surprised her, but it had disappointed her. She couldn’t understand why she felt so strongly about his stubbornness, as she had never been bothered about anyone else’s beliefs, in fact, she hated it when she saw others trying to force their religious opinions upon people.
But with Doug, it was different. Admittedly, she didn’t go to church very often anymore, in fact, only for weddings, christenings or special services, but she still believed in God. And she had expected that Doug would too.
Perhaps that had been foolish, she knew she was often guilty of expecting people to think the same as she did, to have the same opinions and the same feelings. It was an attitude that she tried hard to avoid, but one that resurfaced time and time again, and usually, she was the one who ended up getting hurt or disappointed.
This time, it had disappointed her even more. To find out that the man she was intending to spend the rest of her life with didn’t think exactly the same as she did actually hurt her. And then, when he had snapped at her about the priest, she realised that she wasn’t just disappointed in him, she was angry with him for brushing off the church so quickly.
The night before, Helen Hathaway had rung and asked Doug in person if he would attend mass with them. Carol had been overjoyed, as it was the first time that her mother had actually accepted Doug as a member of the family. She had anticipated that Doug would also be happy to be included in a very family occasion. But no, Doug had politely declined the invitation, swearing to stay at home and prepare for the late-night champagne and cheese party Helen was organising at her house.
Now, as Carol was finishing up her final patient, she wondered if he had even stayed, or if he had gone straight to her mother’s house. Feeling oddly angry, she flung the chart on the pile, crossed her name off the board and made her way to the lounge. "Hey, Carol..." came Doug’s voice down the corridor. "Are you going?"
"Yes, Doug," she said, her impatience with him showing unwittingly in her tone. He gave her a quick glance and then looked to the floor.
"Hold on, I’m nearly done... I need to speak to you."
"Can’t we talk later? I want to stop off at home before I go and help my mother with the things," Doug shrugged. He could tell that she didn’t want to talk, and was anxious to get away. "What, Doug?"
"Nothing," he said, joining her, leaving his patient to a nurse. "I just, I wanted to know what you want me to do whilst you go to church?"
Carol stared at him. He knew this was a tender topic, so why was he bringing it up again. "You know, Doug, do what you think you should... I’m tired of making concessions for you." She turned away from him and walked into the lounge. He followed her.
"Hey, Carol, I didn’t mean anything by that. I know you want me to come, but I just can’t..."
"Why can’t you?" She stood straight in front of him, staring at him hard. "Why is it so hard for you to just for once do what I want you to do?"
"Because it’s church, Carol... and..."
"And what?" she interrupted, feeling her anger bubbling up inside her. "Just tell me something Doug, when we get married, what are you gonna do, because there’s no way on earth that I’m getting married in a registry office. I want a church wedding, and they’ll be no other option on that front." Doug swallowed, his arms hanging limply by his sides.
"Look, I’ll come to church if you really want me to," he said slowly.
"I do want you to come, but I don’t want you to do it because of what I’ve just said to you, I want you to do it because you feel it’s the right thing to do under the circumstances. I thought that you’d have been amazed that my mother asked you to come to mass with us. You keep saying about how she doesn’t like you, but yet, when she does show an ounce of compassion, you throw it away."
Doug was silent. She was right, but it was painful admitting so. Suddenly, the door opened and Mark walked in, "Oh, sorry," he said, glancing at the scene in front of him. He quickly got himself a mug of coffee and then left. The tension was thick. Doug still said nothing. Finally, Carol gave up staring, and went to her locker and began pulling on her coat.
Doug sat down. "Carol," he pleaded gently. "I’ll come," She shook her head.
"No, Doug, you’ll feel like a hypocrite," she said, mirroring his words earlier in the day. He sighed. There was a difficult silence as she pulled on her hat.
"Okay," he murmured. "Fine, just don’t make me feel guilty for it."
"I’m not making you do anything." She paused and turned to look at him. "Look, I’m going now. It’s quarter past eleven. I’m going to nip home and pick up that cake for Ma, and then I’m going to meet them for church, okay?" She took a deep breath. "Come with me... or stay here. It’s your choice."
She straightened her hat and then headed for the door, unsmiling. Doug sat still for ten seconds, then suddenly, propelled by an inner force that came from nowhere he knew, he stood up, flung open his locker and yanked his coat out. He ran out of the lounge, calling her name. She had just walked through the ambulance bay doors, and his call was cut off by the doors shutting. He sprinted down the corridor, dodging a couple of patients, and ran after her.
It was snowing outside, and he bowed her head. Rushing up behind her, he squeezed her waist and spun around her, whispering in her ear as he did so, "I’m coming with you," She squeezed him back, letting him know that she was no longer angry, and his arm slipped around her back. She did the same, and they walked into the snow towards home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You know, I’m getting pretty good at these games
I’ve worked out exactly how to read your mind
I know what you’ll think so I don’t have a fear
But I still know your heart is fragile
So that’s why I’m always walking softly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Carol picked up the cake from the house as Doug waited on the porch. "Done?" he asked her as she locked the door behind them.
"Yep," Tucking the cake under her arm, she reached for his hand. "Let’s go and face the rabble." He chuckled,
"I s’pose that’s a fairly apt name for your family," She punched him lightly in the side.
"My family may be a little hot-blooded, but the poets, the scientists and the geniuses are those who don’t conform to societies expectations." Doug’s chuckle became a laugh.
"And which one of those are you? Hmm?"
Carol made a face. "Ah, you see," Doug smiled, tickling her waist. She twisted away from him and then stopped, suddenly remembering something.
"Oh no..." She paused and stared into the air. "I’m gonna have to go back. I’ve forgotten your present." Doug grabbed her forearm as she began walking.
"Hey, just give it to me when we get back... okay?"
"But..."
"But nothing... come on, or we’ll be late." She reluctantly agreed, and they continued walking. Snow was falling quite heavily by now, and was beginning to settle on the concrete. They headed through a little park, past a pond and a fountain that no longer worked. Suddenly, out of the blue, she stopped him and whispered,
"Doug, do you realise where we are?" She looked up at him and smiled. He glanced around, frowning,
"No, why?" Her smile widened.
"We’re standing where we had our first dance..." Carol’s eyes glazed over momentarily as she recalled the night.
It had been sometime in the summer, only about two months into their first relationship. Doug had taken her to a fancy restaurant, but he had managed to leave the headlights on his car and run the battery down. They were walking through the park when Doug had stopped her and asked her if she could hear the beautiful music. She had strained to hear whatever he was hearing, but could not and shook her head. "You can’t?" he had said, and then looked into her eyes with that wonderfully sexy twinkle in his own. "It must be in my head, then..." He had twirled her around and they had waltzed through the rest of the park, kissing as they went.
Doug smiled at her. "I can’t believe you remember that..."
"How could I forget it, Doug, it was about the only time you ever said anything remotely romantic to me." She grinned at him, showing him she wasn’t mad. A few seconds passed in silence, and then he spoke, softly and tenderly,
"I can still hear the music, you know, Carol... Put that cake down. I want to dance with you."
Giggling, Carol placed the cake on the edge of the pond and pressed into his chest, wrapping her arms around him, taking one hand in her own. He spun her around and took up a slow-paced waltz, gazing at her face. She could see his love for her written all across it. "I hear it, too, sweetheart..."
Doug smiled and captured her lips with his own. They kissed for a long, long moment, time slowing down and passing without either of them noticing, whilst they danced.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dance and I’ll dance with you
Stray and I’ll walk beside you
Tremble and I’ll hold you
Love me and I will love you too
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Come in, Carol... Doug," Helen Hathaway greeted them with a wide smile on the doorstep. "Have you had a good day?" she asked, leading them through to the sitting room, where Carol’s entire family were squashed like sardines, the wine flowing freely and the chatter loud and animated.
"It’s been pretty busy, but okay," Carol replied.
"And how are you, Doug?"
"I’m fine, thank you,"
"Good, good. So, here we are, everyone." The whole room uttered a surprised, ‘Carol!’, and leapt up to swamp her in hugs. She fought her way free and dished out a couple of kisses and some small talk. "This is Carol’s fiancé, everyone. This is Doug... he’s a doctor..." The room hummed it’s approval, and Doug smiled graciously.
"Carol, will you help me pour some drinks. Would you two like mulled wine?" Helen asked them.
"That would be great, thanks," Doug replied, and watched as Carol left with her mother. A small, wizened looking man strode up to Doug and thrust out his hand.
"Hello, I am Uncle Georg," he announced in a surprisingly booming voice. Doug nodded and shook his hand. "Helen told me a little about you," he said, revealing a set of yellowing, chipped teeth. Doug suddenly felt uneasy. He could only imagine what Helen had told her relatives about him, particularly if she hadn’t seen them for a long while. "I hear you’re quite the ladies man!" He grinned and winked. "Good for you, boy, that’s the only way to live...!"
Doug swallowed, surprised. "Well, not so much anymore..." He admitted.
"No, no, ah, you’ll lose your touch, boy... If you don’t keep in practice... Look at me," he confided, leaning into Doug as if passing a volatile secret. "When I was your age I was everybody’s... Now... now, I’m stuck with the Wicked Witch..." He grinned and pointed to an elderly lady seated in one of the armchairs. She had her feet resting on a footstool and was dishing out orders to a young man who was clearly her grandson. Doug stared at him a moment, then smiled,
"It’s like that, is it?"
"Oh, it is, boy, and she gets worse... Now, she thinks that because I’ve retired I can do everything for her..."
Suddenly, there was a call from the kitchen, "Doug, will you come here a minute!?" It was Carol.
"I’m so sorry," he said to Uncle Georg. "But I’m being called," He stepped away and headed for the kitchen. He entered, chuckling under his breath. "Carol? You called me?" he managed to utter.
"What’s so funny?" she inquired, looking up and seeing him grinning to himself.
"Uncle Georg..."
"Oh, Lord... don’t tell me he started talking to you about his bowels...?"
"No, more like his wife..."
Carol sighed. "Well that would be the other one. Uncle Georg doesn’t know how to keep a secret. He has to tell everyone everything. When he had a gallstone, we all knew about it. When he got salmonella poisoning, we all knew, and you don’t want to know the graphic detail he used when he got a dose of hemorrhoids..." Carol winced, "He really is the limit," Doug chuckled.
"It’s okay, I thought he was quite funny..."
"Yeah, I’m sure you did. You find my whole family funny." Doug shrugged, still grinning. "Here, drink that. See what it tastes like..."
Doug took a sip of the steaming liquid she offered him and nodded, making an agreeable face. "Nice." He grinned mischievously, and pulled her to him. "Here, you try it..." He kissed her quickly and slipped her tongue inside her mouth briefly, letting her taste the wine. She pulled away with a shocked expression, but nevertheless, still smiling.
"Doug!" she gasped. "There’s my whole family in the other room!"
"Oh well, I guess there’ll be something more to gossip about..." Carol blew air out through her teeth in exasperation and batted his arm.
The door to the hall opened and Helen walked into the kitchen, wearing a Russian hat and a long tweed coat. "Are you ready, you two?" Carol stared at her mother.
"Ma, we only just got here!"
"I know, but it’s eleven o’clock now. By the time we get through the traffic, it will be time for Mass."
"Yeah, but we haven’t had anything to eat... and Doug’s not played the tambourine..." she threw a sidelong grin at Doug, who rolled his eyes.
"Well, we will have to do that when we get back. Come on, let’s get your aunt into her wheelchair. Doug, will you help?"
"Mmm..." Doug replied, and followed Helen into the lounge.
Doug sat impassively throughout the majority of the sermon, his only movements were to receive communion, and to drop to his knee-cushion and join in with the prayers. Carol watched him out of the corner of his eye, and it was clear that he was not really present at all, but somewhere else entirely. During one of the carols, she peered at him out of the corner of her eye. He was staring straight ahead, at the altar, his eyes like chunks of stone, unmoving and seeing something she could not. She nudged him gently, and he turned his head and looked at her, his face still unreadable. "You okay?" she asked him.
He nodded slowly, and then smiled. "Yeah, I’m okay," He immediately went back to staring directly ahead, and remained that way for the rest of the service.
"Doug! Photograph!" Helen Hathaway called over the hub of her family. Doug turned and smiled at the camera, flashing his teeth briefly. Helen moved away after the picture had been taken and he was left standing alone.
The wind had got up, and was blowing icy tendrils across his face, and through his clothing. The service had been hard. He had not stepped inside a church since he had been to that funeral in California, and smelling the heady scent of the Christmas flower arrangements, lilies, roses, holly and carnations, he had been reminded of the smell of that church. It was what he had feared would happen, and he was glad to be outside, even if the wind was like a chill.
Carol came up beside him and wrapped her arms around him, looking up with concern in her eyes. "Hey," she whispered, smiling up at him. "Happy Christmas, baby." He smiled back at her, but it was strained.
"Happy Christmas..."
"Are you sure you’re okay?" she asked him again, the question fuelled by his quiet lack of cheer. He nodded,
"I’ll talk to you later... it’s not really the time or the place..." He paused, and scratched his chin. "It’s no big deal anyway. We’ll get the party out of the way before we head home..."
"Doug..." Carol said, her voice a gentle warning. "Come on, tell me now..." She pulled away from him and cocked her head on one side, trying to determine what was bothering him.
"Carol, it’s no big deal. I swear..."
"Okay. Fine, we’ll talk later then,"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You know, I’m getting pretty good at these games
I’ve worked out exactly how to read your mind
I know what you’ll think so I don’t have a fear
But still I know your heart is fragile
So that’s why I’m always walking softly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back at Helen’s house, the family were in joyous spirits, but Doug was finding trouble gelling with the happy mood. Carol was pulled into a game of Twister with her cousins, but Doug refused to join in, preferring to sit on the sidelines and laugh at her with her bottom in the air. He told her she looked sexy afterwards, but Carol could tell there was something still not quite right.
They ate nibbles, sang and Doug played Silent Night on the tambourine, much to his disgust. Carol caught the scene with her mother’s camera, and then teased him about it in the kitchen. "You were so funny, Doug... You’ve got no rhythm!" She giggled and poked his ribs. "As the saying goes, don’t give up your day job!"
Doug dodged her, and poured himself another glass of wine. "What’s the time?" he asked her.
"Nearly two... Do you want to go?" She looked at him closely.
"No, no. I was just wondering what time it was, that’s all."
"Well, just another half an hour. We’re not working tomorrow, so we can lie in..." She raised her eyebrows tantalisingly. He grinned back wickedly, but the grin was weaker than usual.
Carol took that half an hour to say goodbye to all her relatives, fielding questions about when the wedding was going to be, whether she would be having a summer one, or a winter one... She volleyed them off expertly, and Doug was reminded that she’d gone through this all once before.
As the clock struck half past two, they bundled themselves up in coats and scarves and headed out of the house, the whole Hathaway family waving madly out of the windows. As they set off down the street, she reached for Doug’s hand, but he pulled it away. "Are you mad?" she asked him.
"Me? No,"
They walked much of the way home in silence, and Carol was getting thoroughly pissed off by the time they got back. She opened the door, and then turned around, facing him as he took his coat off. "Look, Doug, will you tell me what’s wrong?!" she said in exasperation. "You’ve been like a real pain ever since we got back from the church! What’s the matter, for God’s sake?!"
He moved over to the sofa and motioned for her to sit next to him. Then, after a measured silence, he spoke, "I’m sorry... I got into that church and, I don’t know... the smell, the echo... it just reminded me of California, and having to go to that funeral. Seeing that little boy... his life wrecked..." Just like mine, he added silently. He let out a sigh of release, and looked at her. At first, she said nothing, but then, she smiled, and he knew she understood.
"Hey, Doug, that’s fine... that’s okay. I’m not mad at you..." She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "I’m sorry I didn’t realise..." The new-model Doug Ross was surprising her frequently these days. In the past, she would have doubted that Doug would have even remembered the incident with the father, but now, he was a lot more in touch with himself, and with his responsibilities, sometimes, a little too in touch. "Hey, forget it... hmm? It’s gone and done now, okay?" He smiled weakly, and then brightened a little.
"Thank you," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her. "Thank you for understanding..."
"That’s what I’m here for," she replied, kissing him back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Struggle and I’ll help you
Despair and I will be there
Be scared and I’ll be brave
Trust me and I will not leave.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They were seated on the bed, on top of the covers, piling up presents in giddy abandon. It was three in the morning, but neither of them cared. Carol had lit a half a dozen candles around the room, and there was a relaxing, yellow glow flickering around them and on the walls. "My pile’s bigger than yours!" Carol announced when she’d finished making her tower.
"Size isn’t everything, Nurse Hathaway..." Doug smiled.
"Well, that depends whether you’re talking about penises or present piles." She giggled and glanced at his crotch with a wicked leer. He bobbed his eyebrows at her, and then reached for a present.
"We’ll see later, won’t we? In the mean time, let’s see what’s in these..." He shook the rectangular box he was holding. "This is from you, yeah?" Carol nodded, eager for him to hurry up.
"Come on, baby!" she said excitedly, like a little kid. Doug tore open the wrapping and was greeted with a silver photograph frame.
"Oooh," he murmured, and tipped it out. "I guess this is a hint that I should have some more pictures in my office?" He placed the frame down, and then nodded to her, "It’s your turn now,"
Carol picked up a smallish box with a ribbon tied around it. Carefully untying it and removing the paper, not ripping it like Doug had, she extracted a little jeweler's box, navy blue velvet and snapped it open. Inside the ‘De Beers’ logo was embossed onto the satin and a pair of tiny drop diamond earrings gleamed out at her. She gasped, lost for words.
"They match your ring..." Doug told her, smiling at her shocked face.
"Oh, God, Doug, they’re gorgeous...!" she exclaimed. "Thank you so much!" She leaned over and kissed him, barely taking her eyes off the diamonds.
They tore open present after present. Carol had also bought Doug Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits, a bottle of twenty-year old Scotch and... a piece of paper... Doug stared at the printed paper and shook his head. "I don’t understand, Carol... what is this?"
"Turn it over," she told him. He did, and there, printed on the back was the explanation.
"Oh my! You bought me a racing ticket!"
Carol grinned. "Yep. One morning’s racing in a Ferrari F355 at the Indy Car Circuit. It’s valid until June, so you can wait till the warmer weather if you want..." Doug’s face was the picture of amazement and sheer happiness, he turned to her and pulled her to him, hugging her so tightly she thought he would never let go.
"No-one has ever given me something like that." he murmured into her neck. "No-one ever..." Carol smiled and kissed his cheek.
"Well, you deserve it, Doug," She pushed him gently away. "Come on, I have one more present for you..." He stared at her, narrowing his eyes slightly. She took his hand and led him upstairs, giggling intoxicatingly.
"Carol? What are you doing?"
"Just wait a minute, okay?"
She took him along the corridor and then turned him into the spare room. "Right, close your eyes a minute," she ordered, and left him standing just inside the door. She reached over and flipped on the light switch. "Okay, you can look now!" she called, and Doug opened his eyes.
Standing in the centre of the room was a large rocking horse, dapple gray with a black mane and tail, antique in style, but renovated and repainted. "Oh my..." Doug whispered, taking a few steps towards it. The horse was on a free-rocking base, painted pillar-box red, and had a beautiful leather saddle and bridle, dressed with a red rosette and metal thumb tacks. The eyes were made of glass marbles, with iridescent blue centres, sparkling in the light from the ceiling lamp. "This is a present for me?" he asked, smiling, but a little confused.
"Well, it’s a present for both of us, really. It’s so that we can watch our little one play." She grinned and reached for his hand, squeezing it.
"Where did you get him from?" Doug asked, passing his hand over the smoothly varnished wood.
"I saw him in a junk shop downtown. He was in the window, and he was a state!" She laughed, recalling the memory of the horse, on its last legs, so to speak, its paint chipped and its mane and tail gone. "I was just enchanted. I’d always wanted a rocking horse when I was a kid, but my parents couldn’t afford one... because they’re a fortune new. But I got him for $55, the guy in the shop told me he was ready to send him to the tip, because no-one wanted him." She walked around, and swung herself up onto the horse. He was tall for a rocking horse, an original English design, with arched neck and open, smiling mouth. "I took him to the renovators and they told me they knew a guy who specialised in rocking horses. I went to collect him the other day, and I was convinced they’d put another horse in his place."
Doug was astonished, and walked around to the horse’s head, noticing the metal bit in his mouth and the silk rosette. "Does he have a name?"
"Take a look on the side of the bridle, Doug," Carol said. He switched positions and saw, on a metal plaque glued onto the leather of the bridle, bearing the name, ‘Silver Lining’. Doug smiled.
"I thought it was kinda apt," Carol added, glancing at his face. "Every cloud has a..."
"Silver lining..." Doug interrupted, placing his hand on the horse’s forehead.
They were silent for a few moments, as Doug stared at the rocking horse, recognising what it symbolised. It was hope embodied. Finally, Doug reached for Carol’s hand and pulled her to him. "Thank you," he murmured, kissing her neck. "Thank you, thank you..." He pressed his lips to hers and simply held them there. It was a familiar gesture for him. Whenever he wanted to make her feel the love he felt for her, he would do it, holding her to him, joined like they were one being.
Carol did not move, she loved to feel him do this, as she could feel the raw emotion ripping through him, passing into her like static electricity. He slowly brought his hands up to her face and cradled it, and then, let his tongue caress her lips, implying that he wanted the kiss to go further. Carol did not object. She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him deeply, letting her own tongue roam in his mouth.
With slow, creeping hands, Doug began to unbutton her black cardigan, easing the heavy wooden buttons through the wool, his eyes focused as his fingers worked. Carol watched him. There was something enchanting about Doug when he was concentrating. He had so much energy, so much going on beneath that cool exterior, such centred application of his thoughts that sometimes, he appeared to be slipping out of reality, into his own private universe where nothing mattered except the task in hand. Carol found it intoxicating to think that at this moment, she was that task.
He stepped away once the last button had popped and watched with unabashed wonder as the cardigan slipped from her shoulders of its own accord, and fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. He was gazing at her, his eyes dark and gleaming with a life all of their own. "C’mere," he ordered in a low, almost growling voice. Carol felt her stomach turn a somersault in her gut, and took a small step towards him.
Reaching for her, he kissed her neck, trailing his tongue across her skin, occasionally nipping and pinching with his teeth, but never less than tender. Carol leaned into him, snuggling closer, and Doug’s hand closed around the back of her neck again, strong, urgent. She felt a rush of warm peace flood through her, so intense it felt physical. "I love you, Doug," she whispered in his ear, and felt his mouth smile against her.
She rubbed her face in his shirt, as a cat would rub against silk, murmuring indiscernible words under her breath. He smelt wonderful. As a child, Carol had loved the smell of her bedroom, a clean fresh scent that was somehow also tinged with homeliness, warm with security. Doug smelt like that. He hadn’t always done, but since he had moved in with her, and been sleeping in her bed, washing his clothes with hers and showering in her bathroom, the scent had grown on him until it was now ingrained into him. She pressed her nose against the shirt, breathing it in like a drug.
She sank to the floor, her legs giving way beneath her, pulling him down with her. Suddenly, she felt him tugging at her jeans, fighting them over her hips, his fingertips ghostly passes across her hip bones. She took his shirt off, then did the same with his jeans. Doug sat up, and pulled her to him, sitting her across his lap like a child, never letting up from kissing her.
She was making small sounds of thrills in her throat, and he reveled at them, reaching behind her to unsnap her bra. "Mmmm..." He let out a throaty moan and began touching her breasts, light, barely noticeable strokes becoming harder, pinching her nipples as he took his mouth away from hers and laid back, bringing her on top of him. Carol wriggled until she was comfortably lying between his legs, and let him play. She could feel the sweat tingling the back of her neck, and the longing in her core was now a throbbing, pulsating heat. "Doug, please..." she murmured.
"Turn around." He said in a low, breathy voice. Without a second thought, Carol flipped her body around, and began tugging at his boxer shorts. He adjusted his position beneath her, and then pulled her from her panties, flinging them to one side carelessly. Sighing together, both applied a little gentle pressure. Carol took Doug in her mouth, swinging her tongue around his tip, whilst he sucked slowly on her moist, burning skin.
Doug placed his hands on her backside and stroked as far along her back as he could reach. She was thrusting gently against him now, twitching and twisting, close to conclusion. He pushed his tongue inside her and tasted the sticky fluid lurking there, hidden, for his enjoyment only. Carol suddenly went very still, and then a second later, she was quivering out of control, gasping and fighting for breath. Doug sighed into her, happy to have given her this.
For a few seconds, she did not move, but then, she rolled over and sat on his hips, letting his length ease into her. Doug closed his eyes, summoning control over himself. Carol placed one hand on his thigh and one hand passed up to her breasts. He began thrusting, and she rode him, her wetness spreading over his balls and hair.
An enormous pressure was building inside Doug, and he sought blindly to release it. It grew and grew, throbbing and glowing in his head, behind his eyes. He reached up and pulled her onto him, wanting to feel her skin hot and damp against his. His breathing was fast and hard, racking in his chest, but still, he managed to kiss her. As their tongues made contact, the floodgates opened and the pressure was suddenly and torrentially released. Doug shook from head to toe, groaning out a ragged ‘I love you’ as he emptied his heat inside her.
Later, when they had cooled down, Doug extracted himself from her, and rolled onto his back, staring up at the unpainted ceiling. "You know, we’re really gonna have to get this place decorated..."
Carol stared at him, and the serious expression on his face, and burst into laughter. "Doug Ross! Of all people in the world, you are the last person I would have thought to utter a passing comment about ceilings after sex!" Doug grinned.
"Sorry," he added. He took up her hand and squeezed it. "That was fantastic, thank you,"
Carol smiled. "Getting better..."
"You were amazing. I’ve never felt so much in love in my life..." He paused and looked to her for approval. She arched an eyebrow. Doug, running out of words, rolled on top of her and kissed her passionately, wet and reaching. He pulled away and gazed at her, still smiling that infectious grin.
"Keep talking..." whispered Carol, and reached for him again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tell me there’s some hope ahead
Tell me that the future’s bright
I believe your every word
You’re all I’ve ever needed and adored
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End.