"Dr. Weaver, call for you on line 3."
"Thank you, Chuny. Who is it?"
"Didn't say, only that it was urgent."
"All right. I'll be in the lounge if anyone needs me."
"You got it."
"Morning, Chief." "Hi, Dr. Weaver."
"Good to see you both keeping up with your paperwork. Excuse me, I've got to take this. Hello, this is Dr. Weaver. Can I help you?"
"Hey, lady. I certainly hope so. Are you alone?"
"Not really, no."
"Kerry, why the hell don't you have an office? Who else is in there with you?"
"I'm not at liberty to divulge that information."
"So it's either someone who's fairly perceptive or someone who can't keep a secret to save his grandmother's life. Ohhh, this could really be fun. Hmm... Carter or Malucci?"
"That would be correct on both counts."
"Heh. You are so screwed, Kerry."
"I don't believe that this is the appropriate time for this discussion."
"I happen to know that there is exactly one patient in the ED at the moment, and that it'll probably be hours before he passes the ring he swallowed. I doubt very much that you'll be required to supervise a nurse for diaper watch. Why not indulge in a little frivolity with me for a while?"
"I have some serious reservations about that course of action."
"You are so hot when you're in Super Administrator mode. Now. Are you sitting down?"
"Is that pertinent? Let's just get this in motion."
"That's my Kerry, straight to the point. Okay. Imagine... it's late at night, and it's snowing like crazy. We're in the study, on the rug in front of the fireplace. Billie Holliday's wailing her heart out."
"Which records are under review?"
"Umm... the Verve boxed set. We're up to 'Moonglow' on disc 2."
"That's acceptable. What is the stated anesthetic protocol?"
"25-year-old Lagavulin; don't know about you but I'm a little buzzed. The fire's blazing and it's almost uncomfortably warm in the room, even though it's freezing outside. At least, I'm uncomfortable; you're not, because you're naked."
"Why should my department risk that kind of exposure?"
"Because this is my fantasy. I love the way your skin glows in the low light, sort of absorbs it a little before reflecting it, like Carrera marble."
"Can I expect any sort of coverage from your section?"
"I'm wearing my favorite old plaid flannel shirt -– which happens to be missing its top three buttons because a certain impatient redhead tore them off earlier in the evening -– and nothing else."
"And the hospital's position on this matter?"
"You're on your stomach with your arms crossed under your head, watching me, your eyes half closed. I'm lying next to you, on my side, running my hand slowly up and down your back. Your skin is so soft, so smooth, so responsive. I can feel the muscles ripple deep below the surface."
"... Go on."
"Careful, there. Don't want to break character in front of the children."
"Um. I'll take that under advisement."
"That's better. I gradually change my pattern so that my fingers randomly caress the curve of your hip, the underside of your breast. Your breathing grows shallower, more rapid. I brush the nape of your neck; the hair is so soft and fine there that I can barely feel it, except with my lips."
"How do I respond to this provocation?"
"You don't. The second you move, even in the slightest -– I stop. Whatever I'm doing, wherever I am."
"I... see. That scarcely seems equitable."
"It's not supposed to be. I imagine that for you it might actually be rather liberating. Think about it. No responsibility, no worry about reciprocation. Let yourself go, Kerry. Just feel. And don't... move..."
"Not time to call for him yet; we've hardly started. I'm kneeling beside you now, tracing little curlicues over your shoulders, under your arms -– you're a little ticklish there -– along your sides, and finally down to your ass. You have a lovely ass, Kerry, warm and firm and round. It fits so perfectly in my hands."
"I'm glad that we can salvage something positive out of the situation."
"I could sonnet you sonnets and sing you songs in praise of the perfection of your ass, but right now I'm content to fondle and kiss it. Did you know that it turns a beautiful rosy shade of pink? Especially when I bite down -– "
"Hey, Chief, you okay?"
"Fine, Malucci. Why the hell wouldn't I be?"
"You, uh... squeaked?"
"It was a hiccup. Mind your own damn business. I'm sorry, you were saying?"
"Malucci would give his left arm and probably one of his nuts to watch what I'm going to do to you. Slowly, carefully I spread the cheeks apart. You're as ripe and red as a split summer fruit. I could get drunk on the scent. I want to drown in it."
"That might be an attainable goal in the very near future."
"I dip into your folds for just a taste. Your asshole quivers; it looks almost like a newborn kitten's face. Every time I pulse the flat of my tongue against it I can feel the jolt through your entire body. You're breathing raggedly now, in little panting gasps, but still you don't move. I am completely in awe of your self-control."
"Before this gets even further out of hand, I think we need to discuss it face to face."
"I have an even better idea. Why don't you come upstairs for a personal psych consult?"
"I'll allow the liberty on this occasion. But just remember one thing."
"Paybacks are a bitch."
"I'm counting on it. My office. Five minutes."
"I wouldn't know. I wasn't paying attention."
"That's crap, Carter, you were listening same as me."
Carter snorted. "Well, it's not either of us or she wouldn't have talked while we were in here."
"Yeah, whatever. But usually when she's mad she goes kind of pale. I've never seen her all flushed like that -– even her ears were red. Must've been really pissed."
"Finish your charts, Dave."
Malucci was done and on his way home before Carter had made it halfway through his stack. Something about Weaver's entire conversation had struck him as just a little odd, but he couldn't put his finger on it. On an impulse, he went over to the phone and hit the Recall button, frowning slightly when the number flashed on the display. Why the hell would Psych...
"Nah, can't be." Carter shook his head and went back to work.