Intimate Exposures

The show ER and all characters and situations borrowed from it are property of Constant-C, NBC, Warner Bros., etc. This fanfiction is for entertainment only and no profit is derived from it.  This story contains language and consensual, heterosexual sex scenes which may be offensive to some and are inappropriate for those under 18.

A Note (and minor spoiler for non-US viewers): Not that it matters (except to me), but just for the record, I wrote this story - and the bathtub scene contained herein - during October 1998, well before "Stuck on You" aired.  Watching that episode, I was struck by how extremely similar that bathtub scene was to the mental picture I had in my mind as I was writing. ;-)

I'm always grateful to my wonderful editors, Claire and Jordan, for sharing their time and their insights into these characters with me. This story was particularly difficult to write, however, and their help was especially crucial. So thanks, guys. You're the best.:-)


Intimate Exposures
by Elizabeth
Eliz1296@aol.com


This story is set in ER's Season Four, between "When the Bough Breaks" and "Good Touch, Bad Touch"
_____________________________________________

Don't walk too close,
Don't breathe so soft
Don't talk so sweet
Don't sing
Don't lay, oh, so near
Please, don't let me fall in love with you again.

"Don't," Jewel
_____________________________________________

Doug didn't drink like he used to.

It was one of the first things Carol noticed that summer, after they became lovers again so unexpectedly.

A couple of beers after work, a cocktail when they went out. But his eyes were clear, his gaze steady. He didn't have that glazed-over look. And he didn't hang out in bars.

His old restlessness was gone too, the feeling Carol always had that he was unsatisfied, searching, looking for something that was just beyond his reach. Now, when he was with her, he was really *with* her, not just biding time until he could move on.

Three and a half years. Everything was so different. So much had changed. And everything was so much the same.

Three and a half years, all turned around by one of his gambles, a risk: A little kiss that turned into a passionate night and then more nights together after that, and days, and then weeks that had stretched into months.

And Doug and Carol found that they were comfortable together, colleagues who shared a passionate concern about the most vulnerable of their patients and good friends who could spend hours just talking. And good lovers who could spend hours in each others' arms, communicating without the need for words.

Doug opened himself to her now like never before, and Carol listened to him, beginning to understand why he'd been so closed, so cut-off emotionally from her before. He told her stories of abuse and neglect, painted a picture of a boy growing up far too soon, exposed to the ugly side of life long before his time.

She realized how little she'd really known him, finally comprehending how he had learned, early on, that he had to shield himself from the possibility of more pain, more abandonment. And she recognized with a shock how much they had misunderstood each other, long ago.

****************

Carol could cook.

It was one of the first things Doug noticed that summer, after she returned his kiss on the porch and let him back into her life, back into  her arms where he'd wanted to be, waited to be, for years.

Carol made dinner for him and breakfast sometimes, when he spent the night at her house, and he could tell she was confident about it, no longer hesitant about measuring up. So different from before, when she always felt so inadequate.

She hadn't wanted to tell him, at first, that it was Shep who'd taught her to cook. She wasn't sure how he'd react. But gradually she relaxed and talked about Shep, how he shared all his best recipes with her. And she would laugh, telling Doug about how goofy the guy was and how much he loved to eat.

When she shared her stories, off-handedly, Doug shielded his heart against the jealousy he felt, hearing about Carol being happy without him, even though he knew he couldn't have made her happy in those days, when his life was still spiraling out of control. So, he listened and laughed with her. And he tried not to let his jealousy show.
_____________________________________________

ROLLERBLADING

Doug learned that Shep was also responsible for introducing Carol to rollerblading, something she still enjoyed and wanted Doug to try.

So they went rollerblading together one morning when they both were scheduled for late shifts. And Doug enjoyed himself, despite one bad fall, mainly because he was outdoors on a sunny day with Carol and he loved seeing her have fun.

He realized he'd never really known what she liked to do when she wasn't with him. He'd never spent enough time with her to share any hobbies.

"I guess you never picked up anything useful from me," Doug said, still beating himself up for the past. "Except maybe the addresses of a few crummy bars I used to drag you to."

Carol skated past him, effortlessly, then looped around and caught his hands, skating backwards in front of him, steadying him. "Oh, I don't know about that. You taught me a lot about sports, you know."

"Really? Sports?" He thought about it - he'd been so selfish when they were together, he remembered them spending most of their time drinking or in bed. Or both. He didn't remember her being particularly interested in sports, though they might have gone to the occasional Cubs or Bulls game.

Doug gave her a quizzical look.

"Well, I mean indoor sports. You know, the kind you play on the kitchen floor," Carol said, grinning mischeviously.

He grinned back, catching her meaning. "Oh, I didn't have to teach you about that, did I? I remember you were pretty much a natural." Doug caught her around the waist, chuckling to himself.

She skated closer to him and pointed to a bench along the walkway, pulling him toward it and sitting down rapidly, Doug catching the edge of it to stop himself.

"Whoa," he laughed, sitting down beside her. Carol wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him lightly. "Thanks for doing this with me. It's fun. And by the way, Doug, you taught me everything I know about indoor sports."

He laughed, not quite sure what she meant, feeling a little off-balance still.

"Doug, I'm serious. You mean you didn't know that?"

"No. What do you mean?"

"I was a girl ... naive, inexperienced ... when I first met you," she said. She lowered her voice: "You showed me that making love could be wonderful. In fact, you were the first man to make love to me."

Now he looked really surprised. "Carol. That's not true ... is it?"

"I don't mean you're the first guy I had sex with, Doug. I mean you're the first man who ever *made love* to me. It was different - totally different - with you. Something I'd never felt before. Do you remember ..." she hesitated, embarrassed, then looked away smiling.

"What?" Now he was intrigued. "Oh no, you can't do that. C'mon Carol ... c'mon." He leaned around her, laughing, trying to see her face.

She turned toward him, still embarrassed. "Do you remember I ... I used to ...um, I used to get so turned on that I actually, uh, y'know, *came* a couple times, just kissing you? You know, when we were, uh, fooling around together." She was blushing furiously by now and she lowered her face onto his chest.

He raised his eyebrows and laughed, surprised. "No, I don't remember that. Actually, I think I was drunk a lot of the time, Carol. I don't remember some of the things that I should from those days," he said.

She moved away from him a little, her smile fading, and a shadow crossed her face. "Yeah, I know. Maybe that's for the best."

He took her arms and slid her back toward him and hugged her. "Yeah. But hey, thanks for telling me that."

She smiled again.

"Thank *you.* And don't say you didn't do anything for me before, okay? 'Cause it's not true. Not at all."

She kissed him and he chuckled, pulling her up to stand next to him and reaching down her back, pressing her hips against his groin, gyrating sensuously against her. "So, do you want to re-live old times?" he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

"Doug!" she pulled back from his embrace and hit him playfully. "I knew I shouldn't have told you that. Now I'll never hear the end of it."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head, pulling her back into his waiting arms. "Hey, I'm just glad to know I was good for something, that's all."

Carol didn't want anyone to know that she and Doug were back together. She had achieved so much in the past few years. It was a good feeling, to be on her own - without her mother or a boyfriend propping her up financially and emotionally for once. She owned a home and had a meaningful career doing something she was good at. She could finally admit, for the first time in her life, that she liked herself.

And she was happy.

And then Doug had come back into her life, and she felt it again - that kinship they'd shared, that intense physical and emotional bond that Carol had let herself believe in once, against all the odds.

They'd always been so alike: Two people filled with insecurities and terrified of emotional intimacy. Carol holding on to her fear of betrayal, Doug terminally unwilling to commit.

But this time around Doug quickly made it clear that he was after more than occasional sex with Carol. She stayed on her guard for weeks, waiting for him to leave, to panic, back off. But he didn't. In fact, he kept pursuing her steadily, seemingly unafraid of the emotional intensity of their reunion.

He started staying at her house two or three nights a week, waiting for her after work and going home with her or taking her out. One Saturday, he brought over a paper bag full of socks and underwear and dumped it out in the dresser drawer she'd gift-wrapped for him. The next thing Carol knew, he bought an antique wardrobe and moved it into the bedroom, filling it with clothes he brought over in a suitcase. Then Doug claimed "his side" of the medicine cabinet.

He bought groceries and even offered to help her with the mortgage payment.  Carol knew without a doubt that he would move in with her in a heartbeat if she asked him to.

But she couldn't. Not yet. She needed the safety net of his apartment, a place for him to go if her worst fears were realized and things just didn't work out.
_____________________________________________

THE HOUSE

"Doug, hand me the roller please. No, not that one. That one's shot. The one   over there in the corner."

Carol was standing on a ladder in the hall, scraping paint off the ceiling and sanding, then rolling primer over the bare spots.

Doug put down his trim brush and walked over to get the roller she wanted. He dipped it carefully in the tray.

"Don't be stingy, Doug. Get some paint on there."

"You don't want to use too much. You don't need a lot, Carol."

"Oh, you're such an expert at this, Doug?"

"Yes, Carol, I am an expert. I'll have you know I painted every dive in every trailer park my mom and I lived in when I was a kid."

Doug handed her the roller tentatively.

She applied the paint carefully, dodging the thick, globby drips that rained down around her head.

"Oh man! Here, take it! It's dripping all over me!"

"Okay, hold on, hold on. Okay," Doug took the roller carefully out of her hand and put it back in the tray.

"Okay, I think that's the last spot. Ready to take a break, Doug?"

"Yeah. Lemme just finish this doorway."

He brushed rich brown wood stain into the intricate carvings of the old wooden door frame, making another little corner of the old house come to life again after many years of neglect. He loved it, working with his hands, taking pride in Carol's house, putting time and energy into something worthwhile.  Slowly but surely they were investing in the future - their unspoken future together - with cautious optimism. And over the months, their efforts were starting to turn the place from an eyesore into something really beautiful.

Doug wiped his sleeve across his brow and put the brush in a bucket of paint thinner. He glanced up at Carol in time to see her leaning over the top of the ladder, her backside tightly outlined in her paint-splotched jeans.

She glanced quickly over her shoulder, noticing his admiring look. She enjoyed playing hard to get lately. He noticed her flaunting her body when he was around, brushing past him, tantalizing him, knowing the effect she had on him, being so close. She liked making him pursue her, putting him off a little, keeping him on his toes.

Doug didn't mind her little games. They both knew that when he got near her, when he touched her, she could never hold out for long.

He reached up, grabbing her waist, needing to feel the substance of her body next to his. He started tugging her off the ladder.

Carol protested loudly: "Doug! Watch out, you're gonna make me fall!"

"I've got you, Carol. Let go."

She did. He pulled her into his arms and looked her in the eye.

"Anyone ever told you that you're a tease?"

"What? Who, me?" She gave him an extremely innocent look, raising her eyebrows and trying hard not to smile.

"Yeah, you. I know just what you're doing, you know."

"Doug, don't be ridiculous. I'm just trying to get this ceiling done before next year. That's all I'm doing."

Carol tried to pull away from him, but he hung on.

"Right. That's why it's driving me crazy, watching you," he said and he pulled her close to him again.

She struggled, but he held her tighter and began to kiss her, moving his body against hers as his tongue slid over her lips until she gently parted them, allowing him entry into her mouth. She moaned quietly then and ceased struggling, melting into him. And he felt a thrill of triumph, secure in the knowledge that even if he could not reach her any other way, he could always make Carol respond to him when he held her in his arms.

She reached her hands up to caress his face and nuzzled up to him, rubbing her nose against his and letting him kiss her hungrily again.

"Oh, I want you," he said, starting to pull her to the floor.

"Doug! This place is covered with paint. I'm dirty enough already." Carol was brought back to her senses for a moment by the thought of trying to get wood stain and primer out of her hair.

"So, why don't we clean up - take a shower?" he murmured, smiling suggestively.

They got in the water together, washing each other's bodies and caressing each other with soap and washcloths. And they made love afterwards, clean and wet, coming together in her bedroom, licking the moisture off each other, drinking from each other, both getting cold and wet all over again from her mass of dripping hair.

Afterwards, Carol broiled steaks and made baked potatoes and the garlic string beans that Doug loved, while he laid a fire in the fireplace. It was raining out and Carol pulled two pillows off her couch and brought their plates out to the living room. They sat in front of the fire cozily and ate together and laughed and drank a couple of beers.

Doug was appreciative, amazed at how good everything tasted. "Thanks, Carol. That was great," he said. "Let me clean up." So he gathered up their plates and silverware and took them back to the kitchen, rinsing them and stacking the dishwasher.

She lay back on the floor and watched him, waiting to see if he would go by the hall table to pick up his car keys. Instead, he came back to the living room, carrying two more beers.

"Here ya' go," he said, handing her one.

"Thanks. So, you gonna stick around tonight?"

"Uh, yeah ... if that's okay with you?"

"Sure."

He stretched himself out alongside her, looking at her seriously the way he did when something was on his mind.

Carol turned over on her side, propping her head in her hand, and took a sip of her beer.

"It's different, uh, ... being .. *together* so much ... isn't it?" he asked.

Uh-oh. *Different?* Carol didn't like the sound of that. She felt her defenses go up quickly and - from out of nowhere - a small lump of dread arose in her stomach. She swallowed and tried to keep her voice steady.

"Being together? Do you mean sex, Doug? Yeah, it's different. You're just noticing that?"

"No, I'm just ... I don't know. Thinking out loud."

Carol steeled herself. "Getting bored, maybe?"

He looked at her, surprised.

"No Carol, no. That's not what I meant ... not at all."

He seemed sincere, reaching immediately for her hand, setting her beer bottle aside and drawing her palm to his mouth, kissing it and then rubbing it across the roughness of his cheek. The gesture was unusual for him, and oddly endearing.

Carol felt herself softening. Maybe she'd jumped to conclusions. "So then, how is it different? Having sex ... being together ... so much."

"Well, I mean ... You're gonna laugh at this, but I used to spend a lot of time alone. Not that I wasn't pretty successful with women ... but, I mean, being ... getting sex wasn't always this easy. I ..."

Carol withdrew her hand from his abruptly and he looked over to see her shaking with laughter, her head buried in her pillow.

"What?"

"Oh Doug! You really know how to cut to the chase, don't you?" she choked out, her laughter taking on a bitter tone, suddenly. "Sex is easy now - is that why you hang around here so much? Doesn't take too much effort to get me into bed, does it?"

Doug looked at her, dismayed, knowing his words had come out all wrong. She was angry and offended, covering up her hurt feelings with humor.

He took her hand back in his and looked down at it, not wanting to face her.

"Carol, I'm sorry. That's ... that's not what I meant at all. It's ... what I was trying to say was that sex ... *making love* ... with you is so much better now. Really. I mean, it was always good - always better with you than with ... anyone else..."

He looked up, tentatively, to see if she was still angry.

"But now, being here a lot, spending time with you, thinking about you, looking forward to making love with you ... it's great. It's even more ... it's better than ever. I want you more than I ever did. I don't know if I'm saying it right, but ... do you know what I mean?"

Carol was watching him, trying to decide whether he was sincere or just trying to recover from the bald honesty of his earlier statement. She kept quiet.

"I used to be scared, you know? Of going ... of getting past the physical part, with a woman. But I don't feel that way, anymore. And that makes it ... better, somehow."

She knew what he meant. Sex didn't have that same frantic, desperate quality it once did when she never knew if they would be together again. It *was* better like this, sweeter somehow, richer. With the emotional closeness between them as well as the intense physical passion, which only seemed to grow over time.

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean, Doug. This ... what you're talking about ... it's just part of being in a real relationship. Things change - hopefully for the better."

"Yeah. For the better." Doug kissed her hand again and smiled, glad that she understood him, that he was starting to learn how to navigate a full-time relationship with Carol - something that wasn't easy to do, given her infamous moodiness and her tendency to hide what she was feeling.

"So..." Doug looked at her, grinning. "Should we try it again, just to test out the theory?"

"I think you'd better learn to pace yourself, Doug," Carol said, kissing his hand this time and snuggling closer to him on the floor. "At this rate, you're going to burn out early. And I really can't have that happening."

_____________________________________________

Please let me forget
all those sweet smiles,
all of the passion,
all of the heat, the peace, the pain,
and all those blue skies...
where your words were my freedom.
Please, don't let me fall in love with you again.
_____________________________________________

Doug knew that underneath Carol's cool, composed exterior there was always far more going on than she would ever admit, even to herself.

Sometimes, when they were making love and things got intense, when he was on the verge of telling her that he loved her, he felt her pulling away. Distancing herself from him.

It was after those times that she would make a casual reference to his apartment, about how he probably ought to go over and water his plants, or check his mail. Or she would explain again why she didn't want everyone at work gossiping about them, or how she couldn't deal with telling her mother about them right now.

It hurt him.

But he recognized her small cruelties for what they were, and tolerated them patiently: The way she took the El into the hospital instead of letting him drive her, the way she refused to wait for him after work, her insistence on keeping their relationship a secret. He knew what that was all about.

She was afraid, worried that he would go back to his old ways. Get bored and start looking elsewhere. She didn't want to commit herself because she feared getting hurt, as she had in the past. He knew she hadn't forgotten the nights she waited for him and he didn't show up, the disappointments and betrayals he put her through.

What she was doing now was her way of proving that she didn't need him. Oh, she might admit she liked having him around, but she wasn't about to need him again. Not for a minute.
_____________________________________________

THE COLD

They shared a cold, passing it back and forth for weeks that winter, like they shared secrets and cautious optimism and long-hidden feelings for each other.

Inevitably, they both came down with the flu.

And so they spent three long days at Carol's house, dozing and watching television, taking turns getting up for medicine and orange juice and Kleenex and soup. Somehow, they found, being miserable together wasn't nearly as bad as being alone.

One night, Carol's fever spiked high and she became delirious, babbling in her sleep and waking Doug.

She scared him, tossing and turning and calling out one name over and over again.

He got up and turned on the light on her nightstand and went to get her some Tylenol and a damp washcloth. Then he managed to get the pills down her and sat on the edge of the bed next to her and sponged off her forehead and wrists and bathed the nape of her neck.

Just as he started to panic, pacing the room with his heart racing, thinking about bundling her up and taking her into the ER, Carol cooled down and seemed to be lucid again. He touched her and realized her fever had broken. Relief flooded over him. She opened her eyes and looked up.

"Hey, Carol ... you scared me for a minute there. You're really sick," he told her quietly, brushing the hair out of her face. "You were talking, delirious. You kept asking for your dad."

Carol licked her dry lips and tears filled her eyes, suddenly.

"No, no, Carol, I'm sorry... Don't cry - I don't want you to get dehydrated." He held out the water bottle that sat on her nightstand. "Can you drink this?"

She reached for it and tried to sit up but failed. It scared her, being so weak. He helped her sit up and held the straw to her mouth. She sipped from it obediently as he wiped a couple of small tears from her cheeks.

"You're drenched," he said, noticing that her T-shirt was clinging to her in sweaty, damp patches. He pulled it off over her head and bunched it up, using a dry corner to wipe her face and chest, lifting her hair and drying her neck and back. He tossed the garment into the laundry basket and pulled a clean one from her drawer, easing it over her head gently. Then he flipped her rumpled pillow over.

"Okay. You feeling better now?"

"Yeah," Carol said uncertainly, her brown eyes confused and frightened, her vision blurred.

"You need to go back to sleep," he said, preparing to tuck her back under the covers.

But she resisted, whispering: "No. Wait. Stay here a little."

He hesitated a moment, but she put her arms around his waist, holding onto him softly and resting her head on his shoulder.

"Carol."

She nestled her face against the crook of his neck, where she could inhale his warmth and the familiar scent of his skin, and closed her eyes, willing herself to relax.

"Shhh, shhhh, shhhh ..." He held her, sitting on the edge of her bed, their two figures bathed in lamplight, the rest of the room dark. His hands wandered soothingly over her back and stroked her hair softly, his arms unconsciously rocking her body close to his.

This - being here, holding her, taking care of her - this is love.

Doug realized he had never done this, never been there for someone like this, never even seen it modeled, except maybe years ago when his mother had comforted him as a child. His father had never been there for him or for his mother. Doug had never done anything like this - without thought of payback for himself - with any other woman.

And yet it felt so natural with Carol, so easy, to do this for her. He held her tighter, closing his eyes and burying his face in her hair, overcome with feelings for her.

Within a couple of minutes, her soft breathing and limp body let him know she was asleep. He laid her back onto her pillow and brought the covers up, then sat there watching her for a moment.

The look on her face was so sweet and vulnerable. So open. So different from the way she usually presented herself to the world, so determined to be self-sufficient, to be strong all the time.

He watched her, as she breathed easy, face calm and peaceful, then he turned out the light and went back to his side of the bed in the darkness.

*********

When Doug woke up the next morning he felt fully recovered. He rolled out of Carol's bed and into the shower, amazed at how good it was to get cleaned up. When he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist, he went back to the bedroom and stood in the doorway. Carol was awake but still in bed.

"How you feeling?"

"Not as good as you. You look like you're feeling great."

"Yeah, I am. You know, that shower really helped. I'm gonna run you a bath. Would you like that?"

"That'd be wonderful, Doug."

He patted the door frame - his way of agreeing - and turned his back, heading down the hall again. Her quiet words stopped him, made him glance back over his shoulder at her. "Doug - thanks. I mean for being here last night, taking care of me. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here."

"I'm glad I was here, Carol," he said, smiling. Then he dropped his head. "But you know what? You would have been fine without me. You're pretty good at taking care of yourself."

He looked up at her for a moment, knowing how much it meant to her - being independent, not needing him - then walked out of the room.

A minute later, she heard the water running into the clawfoot bathtub. They'd found it at an antique sale last summer and Doug had installed it for her himself.

Doug tested the water, spread the bathmat down and put a clean towel out for her, then regarded himself in the mirror with a grimace. Three days' beard growth. Pretty gruesome.

Carol stumbled into the bathroom stiffly, yawned and yanked her T-shirt off, dropping it to the floor. Then she walked to the tub and dipped a toe into the water.

Doug looked at her, appreciating her naked figure as she eased into the tub gingerly. Long, shapely legs, the rounded curve of her buttocks flowing into the small of her soft, delicate back. She turned sideways and sat down slowly, giving him a view of the upward tilt of her rounded breast and the arch of her long, sleek neck and her hair spilling over her shoulders. 

Oh my. She's so beautiful. "Is it too hot?" he asked.

"No, it's great."

"I remembered how you always like it hot," he said, grinning when he saw by her raised eyebrows that his double entendre did not go unappreciated.

"You really *must* be feeling better," she said, smiling slightly, then she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the edge of the tub.

Doug went back to the bedroom and discarded the towel he was wearing, pulling a pair of boxers on gingerly, due to the immediate physical reaction he'd had at the sight of Carol a few minutes earlier. He chastised himself: She's sick. You can't expect her to do it right now.

He pulled the rumpled sheets off the bed and remade it with clean ones, proud of himself for finding them on the first try.

He went back into the bathroom and started shaving, but found he was constantly distracted by the glimpses he caught of Carol in the mirror over the sink. She was sliding the soap up and down over her arms and legs, her body slick with moisture, her hand disappearing into the water and then rubbing the white lather across her shoulders and her breasts.

God, what a sight.

"Something wrong?" She had caught him staring, he realized, and was looking at him in the mirror, smiling teasingly.

"No," he grinned back. Absolutely nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all.

"So ... we must have set a record, huh, Carol? All that time in bed together and all we did was ... sleep," he said, drawing the razor down the side of his cheek toward his chin.

"Yep, that's gotta be a first. Would you get my shampoo, Doug? I think it's in the shower."

"Sure." He splashed water over his face, rinsing off the flecks of foam still there, and rubbed a towel across his chin as he walked to the stall shower on the other side of the bathroom, found the shampoo bottle and took it to her.

"Thanks." She started to take it from his hand, but he held onto it.

"Let me do it," he said, sinking to his knees beside the tub and opening the bottle.

"What?" She looked at him, surprised.

"Let me wash your hair, Carol."

"I can do it, Doug, it's okay. I'm not that sick."

"I want to do it." Let me do it, Carol. Let me take care of you. Let me be the strong one, for once.

He poured a small amount of the shampoo into his hand and applied it gently to the top of her head.

Carol continued to look at him, wordless, and raised her eyebrows.

"What? Is it so weird?"

"No, it's nice. I just ... I don't know, Doug. Sometimes I feel like I don't
know you. You're like a stranger."

He chuckled. "Lay your head back," he instructed. "It's gonna take some doing to get all this hair wet.... So, what do you think of this strange guy you've been keeping around your house lately?"

She continued to watch him. "Oh, he's all right, I guess," she said, smiling at him. "He keeps surprising me, is all."

He smiled back and started to massage the thick, fragrant liquid into her head, rubbing her scalp with his strong fingers and working the lather all the way back through her long mass of black curls. She sighed and closed her eyes.

"That feels great."

"Good."

"Doug? Did I ... you said I was calling my father last night? Did I ... say anything else?"

"No. You were just asking for your dad, y'know, over and over. Sounded like a little kid. It scared me."

"I'm sorry, Doug."

"It's okay, Carol. I'm just glad you're feeling better."

Doug cleared his throat, realizing she was uncomfortable. Her father's death was a painful subject for her and she didn't like to talk about it.

"Y'know what? ... I love your shampoo."

Carol's eyes flew open and she looked at him, incredulous. "Really? I didn't think you even noticed things like that. It's the only thing that doesn't make my hair really frizzy after I wash it. I've used it forever."

"I know. I remember .... from before, the way it smells. It. .. that smell always reminded me of you. It always ... made me want you."

He looked at her, his hands still tangled in her hair, gazed down at her perfect body under the water and at her eyes, looking up at him so seriously all of a sudden.

"Doug..."

He leaned over and kissed her slowly, lingering a minute over her lips, then lay her back in the water, rinsing the lather from her hair.

"Doug..." she whispered, struggling to bring her mouth up to meet his again. He pulled her up and she reached her hands up to his face and pulled it close to hers.

"Do you want me now?" she asked.

But before he could answer she was kissing him again, delicate, tiny kisses on his mouth, over and over, then sliding her hands over his  shoulders and down his arms, pulling him toward her, urging him into the water with her.

Doug put his hands under the warm water, exploring her. She was still kissing him, hard by now, her tongue in his mouth making him wild with desire for her.

He broke off the kiss and grinned, gripping the sides of the tub and stepping over the rim, lowering himself down over Carol as she sat up to meet him.

And it was then that the water rose and gushed over the sides of the old bathtub, spilling noisily onto the tile floor.

And neither one of them even noticed.

_____________________________________________

Too many times
I've cared too much
I stood on the edge
and I saw that you held my hand,
knowing too well
I couldn't hide from those eyes.
Please, don't let me fall .... please.
Don't let me fall in love with you again.
_____________________________________________

So, over time, Doug and Carol learned how to talk, to share their feelings, to care for each other, to trust each other - at least a little.

The relationship was moving slowly, too slowly for Doug, but he found he had seemingly limitless patience with Carol this time around. She had always been so generous with him, before. Taking whatever closeness he was able to give and rarely demanding more.

Now, he tried to do the same for her. Let her move at her own pace, trying not to push her, even though he wanted so much to tell her how he felt about her. How he'd loved her for years and waited for her. How he'd anguished the day she was supposed to marry Tag. How he'd hated it every time he saw her with Shep.

How he hoped that she could love him again. Hoped that she could finally forgive him for what happened so long ago.

Because he'd never forgiven himself - not really. Never lost the image of her, emerging from the shadows, walking slowly to the door of her apartment the first time he'd seen her after her suicide attempt. Like a ghost: Her face so white, her thin body shrouded in a white cotton nightgown.

Yes. This was why he'd been afraid to get out of his car and come to her door. Because he feared her face would be just like this: so sallow, so sad, her eyes so wounded.

"Hi... You look beautiful."

She looked tired, pale, drawn. But beautiful, just for being alive. Just because she was there, walking to him, like she had walked to this door, to him, so many nights before.

He held some flowers out and saw her dimple flash for an instant as she reached for them.

"How've you been?"

Her voice, then, so quiet. Hardly above a whisper.

"Okay."

Then her smile faded, engulfed by the absolute seriousness of her face as her eyes turned on him fully. The look that was there made him break into a sweat. He couldn't take it. Doug mumbled a few words, laughed a little, nervously. Then he panicked and walked away.

The memory of that night, of that sight - her face as she looked at him - never failed to shake him.

He wanted to make it up to her so much. If only she could learn to trust him.
_____________________________________________

THE VIDEO

"You're kidding. You've got to be kidding, Doug," Carol said, unlocking the front door and walking inside, Doug right behind her.

"Not kidding. I rented the camera this morning, while you were out shopping," he said, as he hung his coat and scarf on the rack beside the front door.

"Oh my god, you're serious," she said, stopping in her tracks and looking at him.

"Yeah ... what? You're the one who said we should make a tape sometime." He smiled, a glint in his eye. "Well, I figured - no time like the present."

"That was a joke, Doug," Carol said, shaking her head and smiling slightly, then turning and starting down the hall.

Doug reached out and caught her arm as she walked by. He didn't want to pressure her into something. He pulled her toward him.

"Hey. It's just an idea. If ... if you don't want to, if you feel uncomfortable, then we can forget about it. We don't have to do it - I'll take all the stuff back in the morning."

Carol looked up at him, noticing how his eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled, seeing the patient, caring look there.

He really wants this, she thought.

"No, it's ... it's okay. I mean, I was kidding but, it's just for us, right? No one else will ever see it. I ... I think it'll be fun."

Doug tilted his head and kept looking at her, evaluating. She's nervous, tense. Scared.

"Okay, well, let's open some wine and go get comfortable and then we'll see how we feel about it, okay?"

He kissed her lightly and gave her a reassuring pat on the thigh, then went to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of Cabernet from the rack he'd installed in the pantry a couple of weeks earlier. He opened the bottle, extracting the cork expertly, and took two glasses from the cabinet.

He felt a thrill of anticipation, thinking about what they were about to do. He was delighted when Carol had mentioned, while making love one night, that they ought to videotape themselves sometime.

Doug had had the same thought, but had not wanted to bring it up for fear he would scare her or make her feel pressured. There was just something so beautiful about Carol when they were making love. He'd tried to express to her what it was, but he knew she didn't understand. He wanted her to see it for herself.

She was so unselfconscious, so completely free in their lovemaking. Doug had never seen quite the same quality in any of the other women he had been with. So many of them were only half-involved in sex, participating with their bodies but just watching, mentally - sitting on the sidelines and evaluating themselves or critiquing him.

But not Carol. Never. She was so honest in bed - trusting him so freely with her body. In fact, he thought, it was the only place she'd ever trusted him completely. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

**********

Carol stopped at the door to her bedroom, taken aback for a moment at the sight of the video camera set up on a tripod at the foot of the bed, a
VCR underneath it.

Oh man. Am I really going to be able to do this?

She smiled, not sure if she was excited or intimidated, then changed out of her clothes, folding her jeans neatly and hanging them on Doug's wardrobe. She pulled her long gray T-shirt over her head and flipped her hair out onto her back.

Doug came in with the wine, poured them each a glass and set it down on Carol's nightstand. She watched him dubiously as he turned the covers of her bed down carefully and plumped their pillows up against the headboard.

Carol cleared her throat. "So, I was telling you about this idea I had, for starting a clinic, a free clinic, in the ER? Other hospitals have done it, Doug.

"Uh-huh," Doug was pulling his clothes off, balling them up and chucking them, basketball-style, across the room in the general direction of the laundry hamper.

"Damn. 0 for 3."

He walked to the bathroom and returned a few minutes later dressed in boxers and a T-shirt. Carol was still talking about work, but looking more relaxed now, he noticed, sitting on the bed, leaning back against her pillow and sipping her wine, her long legs crossed in front of her.

"Hey," he said, hanging his head and grinning as he crawled onto the bed, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "What do you think? Should we get crazy and do this?"

He really does want this, she thought. "Uh, yeah. Why not? Sure, Doug," she said, smiling up at him, then raising her eyebrows suggestively.

"Okay. Hold that thought," he said, chuckling and climbing off the bed to turn his attention to the camera equipment, knowing she was still scared.

"How the hell are you supposed to set this thing up to record? I don't even see a record button..."

"Didn't they show you how it worked?"

"Nah, I told them I knew how to work it."

"Doug. You're such a guy."

"Volume. Should we turn the volume up, Carol?" he looked over at her, grinning.

"Oh god." She rolled her eyes and reached for the wine again, nervously, deciding to change the subject.

"There could be some kind of counseling - for teenaged mothers, abuse victims, y'know? ... Doug?"

"Listening." He was tilting the camera down now, peering through the lens at her, laying back on the bed, waiting for him. The sight was enticing.

"I think a clinic's a good way to keep track of people who fall through the cracks."

"Here we go - I got it ... Well, it's a good idea, but I just don't know that Kerry Weaver's looking for new ways to spend money."

"It would be on a volunteer basis."

"Well, it's worth a try ... all right. You ready?"

He pushed a button and Carol heard a whirring sound. A bright light came on as he clambered onto his side of the bed.

"Yeah ... I'm ready if you are."

She put her arm around him, tentatively.

"If *I* am? This was your idea ... hang on."

Something wasn't right. The record button still wasn't lit up. He got up and went back to the camera.

"Doug! I was kidding! I didn't actually think you'd go out and rent equipment."

"Now ... you talked about this fantasy years ago."

"I did not!" she said, shocked then puzzled. "Did I?"

Doug pressed record and settled back against the pillows, feeling her arm around his shoulders again.

"Ah, actually, I think you accused me of taping myself with various
20-year-olds."

He slipped his arm over her waist, leaning down to nuzzle her breasts.

"Oh, that was harsh," she said, pulling his face up gently, remembering all the other things she'd accused him of.

"Yeah." He looked in her eyes, so beautiful.

"Was I right?"

He hesitated, various lurid scenes flashing briefly through his mind. None of them - that he could remember - involved videotape.

Carol raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth in mock surprise.

"Uh, no ..." he said, hastily changing the subject. "You see all this stuff?" he leaned in to kiss her. "I did it because I wanna make you happy."

She looked at him as he laid his head on her shoulder, feeling herself drawn in, as usual, by his smile and the intense sweetness of his gaze. She slipped her arms around his neck.

"Really."

"Uh-huh..."

"You did all of this for me."

"I'd do anything for you."

The immediacy of his response, his voice, his eyes so close, his smile - it all overwhelmed Carol. The joy she felt welling up in her heart showed on her face for an instant and she glowed with happiness and surprise. Then she sighed and touched his face as she leaned in for a kiss. Why did he say things like that? He was making her fall in love with him all over again.

Doug kissed Carol back and took the opportunity to pull her down further into the bed and run his hands across her back.

He kept kissing her, taking her breath away, running his hands over her body. In the next instant, he was working the T-shirt up around her hips and sliding his hands underneath.

Too fast. She froze.

"Carol?"

"Doug, I ..."

"Carol, what's wrong? Don't be embarrassed. You're beautiful."

"Doug, c'mon. I don't exactly ... I mean, my body wouldn't exactly sell very many sex tapes."

"What? Are you kidding? Your body is perfect, it's great. I think it's terrific."

"Well, thank you, but I think you're just being nice."

"Oh no, I'm not, but I'd be *very* nice to you if you'd let me," he murmured, chuckling slightly and pulling her closer to him so she could feel his erection pressing against her.

"See what you do to me? I can't resist you much longer." Doug was nuzzling her neck, his hand reaching up toward her breast.

She stiffened again and held his hand back, looking at him. "What is it about me that's so irresistible?" she asked, smiling slightly, asking for time.

Doug stopped and looked at her, then backed off and lay quietly beside her, deciding not to rush her.

"Okay, well, let's see..." His head was propped up in his hand as he looked over her body appreciatively. The gleam in his eye and the little chuckle in his voice sent a tingle up Carol's spine.

He lifted the T-shirt up again, slowly this time, tentatively, and slipped his hand underneath without fully exposing her. She didn't stop him. His hand slid over the curve of her hip and followed the line of her side, stopping just underneath her breast.

"For starters, there's this part right here," he said. "This is so soft and smooth." He inched the shirt up and leaned down to kiss along the line his hand had just traveled.

She shivered a little, goosebumps appearing where his mouth grazed her skin.

"Of course, there's always this..." His hand traveled back down over her hip and then slipped backwards and stroked her ass, gripping lightly. "This is incredible, this part here. I can't take my eyes off you sometimes, at work, you look so sexy walking down the hall in those scrubs." He looked at her, his face serious, his eyes laughing.

Carol laughed a little, feeling herself relaxing. Oh you liar, she thought. Keep talking.

Doug nudged her over onto her back and his hand reached for her breast again, pulling the other side of her T-shirt up. This time she let him go there, arching towards him a little and pressing her legs against his.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot your feet."

Carol burst out laughing, breaking the spell of the moment. "My feet?!" she asked. "What's that about! I didn't know we were playing true confessions."

Doug smiled at her. "There's no confession, it's just some peoples' feet are very - uh, you know, unappealing. You happen to have very nice feet. They're pretty."

She smiled back and turned to face him, kissing him softly and sliding one foot playfully up his leg.

"Oh yeah ... and your toes are really long ... and ... um ... I like how you paint them sometimes..." Her foot had found him by then and he was losing his train of thought. He kissed her harder and his voice trailed off.

Doug rolled on top of her, pulling off his T-shirt and then slipping hers off as well, noticing with pleasure that she did not object anymore.

He held her hands up over her head and kissed her harder. She looked into his eyes and realized they filled her vision. She couldn't see anything but him, gazing down at her intensely. He nuzzled her neck. "Umm," she moaned.

"This is my favorite part, right here," he murmured, kissing up the soft inside of her upper arm as it lay exposed on her pillow. "It's so nice."

He slid his hands up her arms until his fingers laced with hers over her head. "You have beautiful hands, too," he said, his fingers stroking hers gently. "Your fingers are really slim and they're all ... I don't know, they're ... just right."

He kept kissing her, caressing her all over. He always seemed to know how to make her want him.

"And your skin is so warm, so hot ..." he said.

Carol sighed.

"So," he murmured. "What do you like about me?"

Carol smiled slowly, still aware of the camera and knowing that Doug was too. Playing to it now, instead of shying away.

"Doug, you know there's only one thing about you that's really any good, don't you?"

"Uh, no, I didn't know that," he said, lifting his head and looking at her, taking in her teasing grin.

Carol reached for him, swiftly, boldly reaching inside his shorts and grabbing his erection firmly, laughing wickedly.

"Oh, geez. I get it. I'm making love to you, going on about your arms and your fingers and your feet, and you just wanna *get some*, huh?" Doug grinned, delighted at her impudence, glad to see her relax and have fun.

"Uh, yeah, that's about it ... stud," she said, laughing. "Except, well, you do ... ah, you're pretty nice all over, but you know that. You don't need me to say it."

"Sure I do."

"Oh, your ego is pretty well-fed by all your patients' mothers and by all the nurses at the hospital, isn't it?"

"Them? Hell, I don't care what they think of me. I just want to know that I'm ... uh, attractive to you."

"Doug ... saying that I'm attracted to you would be the biggest understatement of my life."

"Oh, really?"

He had eased off of her and was laying next to her by now, his head on her pillow beside hers, one finger lazily tracing figure-eights on the small of her back.

"I like the sound of that. So, go on, elaborate a little."

She just looked at him silently for a moment. Oh, Doug, what you do to me... How can I begin to tell you? How you make me lose control every time? How I get wet just looking at you, knowing that you want me?

Carol smiled: "Doug, I think there's too much dialogue and not enough action in this movie." She pulled him back on top of her and wriggled a little, underneath him, until his erection was pressing against her in just the right place. Then she slid her hands in the waistband of his shorts and pushed them down, stroking his ass and kissing him.

"Okay ... you don't have to convince me," Doug said, smiling at her. He kicked his shorts off, then started systematically kissing her all over - her mouth, her arms and her sides, her fingers, her breasts, her stomach. He slid down between her legs and pulled her thighs apart slowly, making her writhe and tingle in anticipation of his mouth on her.

With his index fingers, he parted her outer lips, sighing with pleasure when he saw how aroused she was already. He probed inside with his thumb, searching out her clitoris and finding that it was slick with wetness and already engorged.

Carol tensed, watching Doug as he sensuously extended his tongue and probed around her, tasting, licking her tentatively and then sucking, flicking his tongue over her and driving her mad.

"Oh god," she moaned, closing her eyes in ecstasy as he ministered to her, lowering his mouth fully over her, engulfing her in heat and wetness, increasing the pace of his tongue's friction on her and then pausing occasionally to slide - maddeningly slowly - along the length of her slit and penetrate her.

Carol gasped and put her hands alongside his head, whispering: "Doug, I'm not gonna ... last."

"Don't hold out, Carol. You're so sexy when you come. I wanna watch," he murmured, pressing his head deeper between her legs and flicking his tongue over her again and again.

That comment and his mouth on her did it. "Oh .... oh," she whimpered and her body tensed, her legs reaching and her back arched, her head thrown back. Doug looked up in time to watch, entranced, as she winced almost as if in pain, and then went over the edge, moaning and writhing in pleasure, her body contracting, twitching, her breath coming fast.

This is what I love to see, he thought. I love knowing I can do this to you, make you lose yourself like this.

He brought himself up to lay next to her and put his arms around her, holding her until she stopped shaking, then he turned her over, gently, and parted her thighs from behind.

"Do you want me?" he asked, kissing her neck and reaching under her body to fondle her breast.

"Um-hmm," she sighed, still too overcome to put any words together.

He ran two fingers down her spine, making her shiver, then rubbed her back lightly, his hand lingering in the sensuous curve of her lower back, which he loved. He lusted fiercely at the sight of her lying underneath him, submissive, her hair spreading softly over the pillow and over her shoulders and upper back.

He reached both hands down and pulled her hips toward him, rubbing against her, stimulating her again and getting wet.

"Carol," he said, and she raised up, allowing him to enter her from behind. He noticed pleasurably how her orgasm had lubricated her tight, hot passageway and he closed his eyes and moaned at the delicious sensations she was treating him to.

He fucked her slowly, bending down to kiss the back of her neck and suck her earlobe, watching her face as she became aroused again quickly and responded to his thrusting, pushing herself back into him, meeting him halfway.

You're so incredible, so beautiful Carol, he thought. I love it when we do this. I love you.

He felt her muscles convulsing around him, gripping him. She started to moan again, softly, enjoying herself. He pushed in and out of her faster, feeling like his entire being was gathering itself in his groin.

"Oh, oh, Carol," he let out a groan, then dropped his head onto her shoulder, coming inside her, pulsing and shuddering into her, holding her tightly.

She lay under him, reveling in the moment, ecstatic at the feel of him inside her again. I want it all, give me all of you, Doug, she thought. I love this... I love you.

**********

"So, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Doug walking out of the bathroom toward the bed where Carol lay motionless, only half-awake now that the camera was still and the lights were off.

"Ummmm. No, not too bad," she murmured, smiling lazily up at him. "Can you find my T-shirt? I'm cold."

"Yeah, here it is." He bent over and picked up the soft, gray garment from the floor and handed it to her, then pulled the covers up around her and, walking to his side of the bed, climbed in beside her.

"So, do you want to watch it now?"

"Umm ... maybe later. I'm not sure I could watch myself ... right afterwards, y'know? Actually, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to watch it at all."

"Oh, you will," he smirked. "I think you're gonna like it a lot."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him over to her side of the bed and kissing him softly. "If you're in it, I'll like it. You're my favorite porn star, you know that?"

"Oh, I am? Your favorite, huh? And just who else are you watching?" He chuckled, loving the feeling of being in her arms, in her bed. Secure.

"No one else. Not ever. Don't you know, I only have eyes for you?"

THE END