Steele Dreaming

Vol. 3; Ch. 3

By R.J. Harrington,

Laura leaned under the flow of water and smoothed her hair from her face as the shower washed the suds over her body. She soaked in the comfort of the vibrating streams that worked to relieve the tension from her muscles. She hadn't planned another trip to bathe, but she needed to relax before attempting sleep.

Her breathing slowed to shallow gasps and her eyes closed. As her mind wandered into a daydream she felt the faint touch of hands on her bare shoulders and a whisper in her hair. He was standing behind her letting his fingers glide, dip and sample the nooks and crannies of her body. She lost track of time reliving every moment he'd ever touched her, kissed her … held her. Her imagination took her beyond where the memories ended.

Without warning, the dream vanished as she was drenched in ice.

Startled, Laura's eyes popped open and she reached for the handle to turn for warmth, but found none. She had used every bit of hot water. How long have I been in here? She was short of breath and her heart was thumping in her chest. She turned off the water and opened the door. The room was so thick with steam she could hardly make out the mint green towel on the bar. She snatched the towel and gently patted her skin dry, then wrapped it around her hair.

She cleared steam from a spot on the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her cheeks were flush and her skin glistening. She sighed. She grabbed her baby blue terrycloth robe and walked to her bedroom to slip on a gown. She decided to forego undergarments until she cooled from the humidity. She picked up a worn paperback from the nightstand and headed for the chair in the living room, plopping into the cushion. She slung her legs over the side and leaned against the back, positioning the pages under the lamp.

Just as she found where she'd left off, a loud pounding struck the door. Frustrated, she snatched her robe from the couch and slowly walked to the entrance, turning the lock and sliding it open.

"Ah, Laura. At home on a Friday night I see," Remington walked past her and studied the loft, searching for signs of other roosters in the hen house.

Laura stepped back and watched him pass. "And, hello to you too."

"The intrigue. The love of a man and a woman, struggling to fulfill their promise; their destiny intertwined with fate." Remington said nonsensically as he headed for the wine rack in the kitchen.

"A little dramatic wouldn't you say, Mr. Steele?"

"Nothing of the sort, Miss Holt. The poetry of love is all consuming. It gnaws at the seed of passion, begging for release." By now, Remington was nearly yelling his prose from the kitchen as he clamored in the drawer for a cork screw. "Ah, here we are."

"You should have called. I might have been out." Laura said as she rounded the corner and stood beside him, arms crossed.

"Yes, well, I saw the Rabbit, and you didn't mention plans as you rushed from the office this evening."

As he balanced the wine bottle on the counter and plunged the twisted metal inside, Laura leaned against the edge. "I'll have you know I do have plans, very elaborate plans."

"Umm. Hmm." Remington popped the cork.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Do you mind grabbing a couple of those glasses?" he said, gesturing with his elbow.

Laura retrieved the red wine glasses from behind the matching champagne flutes and set them next to the bottle. Remington filled the goblets, handed one to Laura and turned to walk to the couch with Laura in tow. She remained standing at the arm of the chair as he sat on the couch, placing the bottle on the table.

Who the hell does he think he is, showing up at my home, breaking open a bottle of my wine and taking over my evening? She wanted to speak, but there was something irresistible about his brashness. He knew what he was doing and small things such as personal boundaries and correctness weren't going to get in his way.

"Care to join me, Miss Holt?" Remington leaned into the cushions with goblet in hand and legs crossed. Laura smirked at his audacity. She sat in the chair with her legs pulled up beside her. Remington lifted his glass and moved it toward her. "To an evening full of surprises."

"Don't forget your seeds of passion, Mr. Steele."

"And to seeds of passion." Remington gently tapped his glass against Laura's, then sat back to sip the wine. "Very good vintage. Someone has excellent taste in aged cabernet."

"I got the bottle from you."

Remington smiled, drawing a laugh from Laura. He sat up with pride, immensely satisfied with his ability to break Laura's barriers and lighten her mood. He noticed the book on the table, and reached for the novel. In a panic, Laura snatched it before Remington's fingers could reach.

"That wouldn't happen to be a romance novel would it?"

"Certainly not. It's a collection of works from 18th Century French poets."

"I see." Remington smiled.

Laura quickly set her glass on the table and stashed the book under the cushion of the chair before sitting back down. "What are you doing here, Mr. Steele?"

"I thought I would help you out of your predicament."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come now, Laura, you and I both know what's going on here. You have a crush on me, which is certainly understandable."

"A crush!? You think this is about a crush? You underestimate me, Mr. Steele."

"Then, perhaps an explanation is in order."

"An explanation? You want an explanation?" Exasperated, Laura stood and began to pace with one hand propped on her hip and the other on her forehead. Every two turns along her route, she stopped and looked at Remington, then shook her head and continued pacing. Remington simply watched with anticipation. He noticed she no longer wore her robe and was merely clad in a thin nightgown – which when she stood in the right light appeared to have nothing underneath.

Finally, Laura stopped and sat on the edge of the coffee table facing Remington on the couch. She reached to touch his hand, then quickly let go. She clasped her hands in her lap with her head bowed. Why is he just staring at me? Doesn't he know how hard this is for me? Or maybe he does know and is enjoying it too much? God, I just want to push him against the couch and …. Laura looked up.

She caught his eyes sparkling in the lamplight with a genuine look of concern. "Laura?" He tilted his head and leaned toward her.

Don't think; just do it. Tell him. Tell him.

"I want y … what I'm trying to say is, well, you are … Oh hell." She shoved off the edge of the table and planted her lips on his, pushing him to the back of the couch, and nearly out of reach. She climbed onto her knees and straddled him as their kiss deepened. He moved his hands up her thighs, leaving Laura suddenly aware of her nakedness. She clambered to her feet and quickly walked to the other side of the table.

She stared at him, struggling for air and smoothing her hair into place. Remington returned her wanton glare as he stood and walked around the table. Without hesitation, he took her face in his hands and leaned to kiss her. She kept her arms at her side, letting him caress her face and hair and lips before succumbing to his desire and pulling him to her. They feverishly groped until the kiss waned and their lips parted.

Laura glanced up at him and gently kissed his lips once more before walking away. "I can't do this."

"Why not?"

"Because I have a hard enough time controlling you as it is. Can you imagine if we cross that line?

"What are you afraid of Laura?"

She turned around to look at him in silence, knowing she didn't have a rational reason for her hesitation. They gazed at each other still trying to catch their breath. "I'm afraid you'll leave me."

Remington didn't know what to say. The depth of honesty was a little unexpected. He'd hoped to merely tease Laura about her dreams and help her get past them by forcing them into the open. He didn't expect this. "Laura, I know I can't make guarantees, at least not the ones you want to hear, but I'm here aren't I? I've had plenty of chances to lead you astray, to follow the next opportunity, to go off with Daniel on another wild scheme – but I haven't. I've stayed here with you. Doesn't that count for anything?"

Laura bowed her head and fidgeted with her hands. "Do you know why I've been avoiding you?"

"I can venture a guess as to why."

"Those dreams. Those damn dreams."

"What's so horrible about them?"

"They involve more than your run-of-the-mill detective work, Mr. Steele." Remington didn't say a word; afraid to spoil what he hoped came next. "They, um, well, they are, uh, very erotic," she looked up at Remington and trapped his stare. His mouth hung open slightly and he wasn't breathing. "They are with you."

Remington was paralyzed. Did she say what I think she said? He couldn't speak.

"Well, say something."

"Laura, I didn't know, I mean I didn't think it was that bad."

"Well, it's not; that's the problem."

"But, I thought you wanted to eradicate these fantasies, banish them as it were."

"They frighten me a little, but they are also very passionate and …" she paused, "enjoyable."

Remington smiled.

"Don't laugh."

"I'm sorry. No doubt you need to be alone. I have merely exacerbated the situation." Remington swilled the last of his wine and grabbed his overcoat. "See you in the morning, Miss Holt."

Just as Remington reached the door to the loft, Laura spoke quietly. "Don't go."

Remington stopped and slowly turned around. He stared at her as a wave of desire rushed through him. His brain told him to say goodbye and keep walking. Laura was clearly unsure about what she wanted. But, his heart -- in agreement with the rest of his body -- couldn't wait to touch her. He could express in deeds what he couldn't express in words. Just as his heart was winning the battle, Laura smiled. It was sweet and youthful and longing. The tinge of hesitation vanished. Remington threw his coat on the piano bench and walked within inches of Laura. He touched her shoulder and slid his hand down her arm until he reached her hand. He lifted it to kiss it, never losing eye contact.

"You're the woman of my dreams, Laura." She smiled, then stared at the floor. He raised her chin with his fingertips and grinned. "But, I can wait. God knows I don't want to, but I can."

Laura was stunned. She certainly didn't expect that. But, he wasn't the only one with a choice here. She leapt into action.

"Well, I can't!"

She threw her arms around his neck and dove into a kiss that skipped gentle and went straight to passionate. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him to her, and pushed onto her toes. The kiss continued until she could no longer breathe. They broke the connection and watched each other mentally work through what they were about to do.

Laura smiled and grabbed Remington's hand. She led him up the stairs to her bedroom and stopped beside the bed. She slowly pulled his belt from his waist and watched his reaction as she unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her hands inside to stroke his chest.

"What about your plans, Miss Holt?" Remington said with a smile.

"They just got a lot more interesting."

"And, if your dreams are any indication, a lot more passionate."

"Just shut up and kiss me."

So, he did.

The End