Duo in the Dark
By
She’s bouncing.
She’s actually bouncing, quivering like a Labrador puppy tracking a tennis ball, and I can’t help but grin a little. Rose, normally the calm and serene significant other of my existence is full of questions she can’t quite ask, full of comments she wants to blurt but doesn’t dare distract me yet. I pretend not to notice her little quivers as she flicks her long braid over her shoulder and shoots little glances my way.
We’re standing in the apex of the South Bay Museum of Natural History’s main hall. It’s large and airy, with a fair crowd of tour groups and students on field trips. We’re in front of the interactive signpost, watching kids push buttons to see where various exhibits are located. To our right, the Prehistoric Wing, with dinosaurs; to our left, the hall of geology. Straight ahead, we’ve got the cultures of the World, along with physics, animal habitats and a billion other neat little exhibits.
Rose is shifting from foot to foot. I glance at her.
“We’re casing the joint—“ she blurts. It takes all of my determination not to crack up. I raise my eyebrows at her.
“We are assessing the Museum’s security arrangements,” I correct her, dropping my hands on her shoulders in a vain attempt to make her settle down. She grins.
“Nuh uh—We’re casing the joint getting ready to pull a heist, Boss.”
“Rose—“ where does she GET these notions? I love the woman dearly, but sometimes out of the blue she latches onto an idea and not only runs with it, she heads straight to Siberia.
“Look, are you or are you not checking the access to the exhibits?” she demands. I nod, my fingers rubbing her shoulders through her thin silk shirt. Purely platonic you know. She winks at me.
“And further, aren’t you coming back tonight in a sanctioned attempt to simulate a B &E at the requested challenge of Weston Security?”
“Yesssss—“ I have to admit. The rubbing is getting more concentrated; Rose looks down at my left hand. Guiltily I remove it. She continues with complete confidence.
“So you’re pulling a heist, darling. A daring excursion to snatch one item from each area and drop them on Dan Weston’s desk. I want in.”
“You want in? This isn’t Ocean’s Eleven, Rose! Dan’s the only one who knows I’m going to try this, and aside from little drawbacks like locks, guards, various security systems and a limited amount of time, there’s always the chance I’m going to get caught by the cops.”
She turns her head and kisses my hand. Now I quiver a tiny bit.
“You won’t—you’re too good. Oh please Mac; it’s going to be a hell of a lot of fun! I don’t want to be sitting at home watching reruns of Twilight Zone while you get to do the cat burglar thing!”
I look down into her blue eyes, and that’s my undoing, as it usually is. Rose doesn’t ask for much, not really. She reminds me to take my vitamins, she insists I put the toilet seat down, but on the whole she lets me handle most of what I do with a kiss and a smile. When she wants something, she asks, straight out, no guessing or game playing, and expects the same of me. It makes our lives work, from the practical stuff like paying bills, to the passionate stuff like making love.
“You’re—worked up--about this—“ I probe gently. My answer is her blush, her little wriggle. Damn!
“Well, yeah. I’ve always had a sort of a crush on, you know—“
“--Debonair criminal masterminds?”
“—Suave guys who climb out windows—“
I roll my eyes; I’m perfectly aware of Rose’s movie preferences, which run to spy thrillers and caper films. The woman has almost every Bond film ever made, even the parodies. She lives for car chases and gadgets, and I know part of my reluctance to tell her about this job stemmed from just this mania.
However, given her reaction, taking her along for the night could be—fun. I owe her a good time, privately speaking, and this might be just the way to do it. Weston’s challenge didn’t have any stipulations about how many of us I give it a few second’s thought-- By all means, if Rose wants to play cat burglar with me, why not?
I cup her chin and lock gazes with her.
“Do what I say, Doll, and I might let you come along for the job, Capice?”
Ooh, that got her; the eyes go big and she’s practically whimpering with delight.
This is going to be a lot more fun than I thought.
We slowly make the circuit of the Museum, letting kids and tourists move around us. Rose keeps glancing at me and biting her lip.
“What?” I ask testily, trying to look serious. It’s hard when I’m playing with a plastic stegosaurus leg. She looks around before leaning close to me.
“What are we nabbing from this room?”
“The T. Rx tooth,” I reply, pointing with my chin to the well lit pedestal case. The fang is as big as my hand. She nods, and pulls out a little notebook from her purse, jotting it down and making me smile to myself at how seriously Rose is taking all this. We sally forth to the other side of the museum, taking it slow. Rose keeps writing stuff down, and I take a moment to peek over her shoulder at her graceful scribbles.
Two exits, one fire extinguisher—rubber-soled shoes—
I give an approving nod, and look carefully at the wall display of geode crystals. With a little tap, I point to the cut and polished amethyst pendant on the green cushion.
“That one.”
“Ooooh, nice,” Rose approves, licking her bottom lip. I raise an eyebrow and study it again.
“Yeah, I can see you wearing nothing but that in bed—“
“Mac!” Rose squeaks at me, shooting a nervous look over the heads of a couple of second graders who are mashing their noses on the glass. I nod slowly.
“Come on—Dan doesn’t need it back right away—“ I drawl, watching her go pink as she flushes. Hastily she jams the pen and notebook back in her purse.
“You’re teasing me.”
“Me? Perish the thought—“ I respond loftily, “Just thinking of how my evening’s
going to end. Let’s see what’s worth snatching in the hall of cultures.”
*** *** ***
I know what I’m after and I know what I’m up against. Dan Weston is fairly confident that his security service is more than enough for the museum, but Pete and I suspect differently. The director told me I was welcome to attempt a break in, and Dan threw in the added incentive of a bet—a pair of tickets to the Stanley semi-finals in late March. I ask you, could any sane man refuse?
So here I am in the jeep sensibly decked out in black from my knit cap to my sneakers and half gloves. I have one nylon bag with my usual goodies in it: tool kit, duct tape, assorted tricks of the trade. I also have Rose.
Sigh.
She’s in black too, but not looking inconspicuous, noooo. For one thing her shirt’s tight and way too short, so she keeps flashing her tight stomach and little innie belly button every time she raises her arms. Very—distracting. She’s got low slung black sweats and black hightops on and has managed to pin the hair up under her cap, but wisps of it are coming out.
She smells like lilacs too, which I really like.
“Okay, so we want the fang, the necklace, the ceremonial dagger and the tarantula—“ she rattles off.
“We’re not getting the tarantula!” I snap at her. I don’t care if she IS on good terms with most arachnids—I have my limits, personally. She sighs.
“But Mac, darling—think what a daring coup that would be—Dan expects you to get the easy stuff. Besides, I have a specimen box and everything.”
“No! No tarantulas! I’m running this escapade, and spiders are OFF the list,” I warn her with a stern look. She does not look the least bit intimidated by my scowl.
“Fine—“ she concedes loftily, checking her lipstick in the mirror on the back of the shade flap. It’s one of those feminine habits that intrigues me, and I find myself smirking.
“Lipstick, Rose? Were you planning on getting your picture taken or something?”
“It’s my good luck thing. I always get lucky when I where this shade,” she blushes, waving the tube at me.
“Pink.”
“Not pink, it’s called Lickable Lilac!”
Oy! Temptation on a plate, here. I manage not to smirk, but both of us know better. I pull the Jeep into a parking garage one block up from the museum and check my watch: eleven twenty. Rose grins, waiting to hear my plan. Wish I had one.
“Are we going to sneak over the rooftops?” she asks breathlessly.
“Nope.”
“Are we going through the back alley windows?”
“Nope.”
“Are we disguising ourselves as the cleaning crew or security guards?”
“Nope.”
“Okaaaaay—“ Rose scrunches up her face and thinks hard. I climb out of the jeep and scoop up the nylon bag of goodies. She trails behind me as we head for the elevator. The night air is cool, the streets fairly quiet, which is what I expected. Most of this section of town is shopping, so almost all of the businesses are closed for the night.
“We’re going right up the steps and through the front door, Brat,” I tell her as I punch the buttons in the car.
Rose grabs my sleeve, and the cynical look on her face is highly amusing.
“Just—walk right in? Mac, the door’s locked!”
“No it’s not. About fifteen minutes before the shift change, the guard on the lower level comes and unlocks it for his relief to get in. The graveyard guy locks it up behind himself after he’s inside.”
“How do you know that?”
“I talked to the kid who works the graveyard shift—he was in earlier to straighten out a paycheck problem while Dan and I were in the office.”
“Oooohhhhhh---“ a little more impressed, Rose shoots me a look with more respect. I nod.
“The guard’s not supposed to unlock the door until he sees his replacement there, but they’ve gotten lazy, and that’s going to be our way in.”
We move down the dark street, and just my luck, a patrol car is cruising our way. I grab Rose around the waist and pull her into one of the Plexiglas bus stop shelters in front of the museum.
“We’ve got company—cuddle up--“
She giggles and wraps around me obligingly. Oh, I adore her topography, especially when it’s pressed up against my own. Niiiiice. The patrol car moves past us; the officer barely spares us a glance. Rose burrows into my neck and I’m trying very hard not to lose focus here.
“Maaac, stop it!” she tells me, trying to pull away. I tighten my grip as the number fifteen downtown bus lumbers up and stops. I wave it on; the driver gives me the sort of grin that makes me wink back.
After the bus pulls away, Rose sighs.
“You can let go of my butt anytime now, Mac—“
“Now why would I want to do that?” a quick nuzzle assures me she’s NOT as cool as she thinks she is. She nips my earlobe.
Because we’ll miss that window of opportunity if we just stay here, Mastermind.”
“Ah. Good point.” I concede, reluctantly loosening my hold and trying to regain my status as the brains of this operation. Rose picks up the bag and waits until I check my watch again.
“He’ll unlock the door at eleven thirty, and we’ll go in after he heads off on his last circuit of the place. We need to go to the right first.”
“For The big T. tooth,” she nods. I nod. We slip around the side of the building and wait. It’s a little cold, so I keep an arm around Rose. Just for warmth you understand. She’s all trembly with anticipation, and trying not to wiggle.
“This takes me back, Mac—man, I remember staying out all night a few times when I was in seventh grade—“
“What the heck were you doing?”” I ask abruptly, images of a wild child Rose not doing my concentration ANY good.
“Ooooooooh a lot of risky things—“ she breathes, a distinctly naughty smile on that lilac mouth. I blink.
“Good. That’s good. Means you’re ready for the big time—“ I mumble. She preens a little, and we hear the rattle of the guard unlocking the pushbar of the glass door. I count to seventy and we move up the steps. Crouching low, I pull the door open then herd Rose inside. Like the obedient little sidekick she is, she scoots along the wall to the right wing. I follow her.
“Damn!”
A problem. The wing is locked up with a metal fence over the hallway—the same sort of gate that stores in malls roll down over their shops. In the dark, Rose crosses her arms and shoots me an amused look, her bellybutton flashing at me again.
“What now?”
“I’m thinking—“
The lock on the bottom of the gate isn’t a problem, I can pick it easily enough, but keeping it rolled up long enough for Rose and me to slip in and out is problematic. I don’t want to use duct tape, which would be too sticky and hard to take off—
Take off—
Got an idea.
“Rose, give me your bra—“ I snap, kneeling to work the awl point of my knife into the keyhole. She makes a gasping noise.
“What?” she hisses back at me. I flash a grin at her.
“I’m serious, I need your bra.”
“This better be a legitimate reason—“ Rose grumbles, turning around and pulling her shirt up. I refrain from peeking until she drops it into my waiting hand. A nice black satin one. Still warm, too.
“Okay, what’s it for?”
“For THIS—“ deftly I roll up part of the gate until we have a gap between it and the floor, a space of two feet. I loop the bra like a bungee cord under the gate, and close the hooks so that the bra is holding the rolled gate up.
“Wow—good thing it’s an underwire—“ she giggles softly. There really isn’t an answer for that I can give that doesn’t sound smutty, so I wince a little and slide under the gate, motioning her to follow me. On the other side we pause to look around. I try very hard not to be aware of the fact that a warm sweet woman with a too short, too tight shirt and no bra is pressed up against my side.
I am failing. Badly. Hey, sue me, I DO have testosterone.
Rose isn’t fairing very well either judging by her quick breathing, so I take a chance and gently kiss her ear.
“Tooth—“ I manage in a husky voice. She sighs.
“Yeah—“
We walk over to the pedestal and both of us look at it carefully. Rose sighs.
“It’s an easy lock pick, but the tooth’s gripped by a plastic clips on the edges—“
“—But with a little of THIS—“ I dig out a bottle of baby oil, “We can work it out of the clips. You’ve got smaller hands so you get to do the massaging.”
“Okay-“ Rose playfully cracks her knuckles as I work on the lock. By the time I have the door open she’s pouring a little oil in her hand. I step back.
“All yours---“
“Time for a hand job—“
Oof, didn’t need to hear THAT—Rose is chuckling, knowing perfectly well what her words are doing to me, but I can’t say I don’t deserve the teasing. I watch as she gently works her fingers along the edge of the fang. Slow steady strokes, loooong smooth strokes. I’m getting warm here, need to look somewhere else. Rose grunts a little.
“It’s hard.”
“No kidding.” I gulp.
“Mac!”
“Just—never mind,” I sigh, keeping an eye on the gate. I can see the dim lights of various geology exhibits way across the central entryway. The necklace is in the wall case, which means we’ll have to get behind it somehow—
“Got it!” Rose beams, holding the now shiny fang in the light. I reach for it, but between the two of us fumbling it starts to fall; I grab, Rose lurches forward and down we go in a pile on the marble floor.
We’ve got it pinned between us, a nice hard eight-inch tooth--among other things. Rose is under me, muffling her giggles against my shoulder.
“Is that a fang in your pocket or--?”
“Shhhhhhhhh—“ I tell her in loving exasperation. I’m not in any hurry to move, actually, but she doesn’t need to know that. Rose goes quiet, listening. I pretend to squint towards the gate. We hear nothing. Rose squirms and it’s nice. Really. Nice.
“Move—“ she pushes my shoulders, leaving a faint scent of baby oil. I drop my head slowly and my mouth takes hers, warm and deep and Ohhhh so good. Rose tastes uniquely sweet, and I love kissing her. The first time I ever did, it was like turning a somersault underwater, like the hanging moment before the roller coaster goes down the drop, a breathless, wild sensual plunge I’ll never get tired of. Here I am on a museum floor, shamelessly making out instead of getting on with the job of embarrassing Dan Weston.
Ohh well---
“M-m-m-m-Mac—“ Rose mutters between kisses, “We have to—get going—“
Yeah. I know. Reluctantly I scramble off of her and hold out a hand to help her up from the floor. She tucks the tooth into the bag and I reach for its replacement, setting it artistically in the display case.
Rose giggles softly because it’s a big, brass Phoenix Foundation paperweight.
“That’s kind of rubbing it in—“ she observes. I shrug.
“A good cat burglar always has a signature you know.”
We slip back under the gate and I unhook the bra, stuffing it into my pocket. Rose protests until I point out we’ll need it for the gate on the other side of the hall. Moving along the walls we manage to reach the other side. Beyond the rolled gate I can see the Geology hall, and the wall display case where the necklace resides. We repeat the procedure with this gate, slip under, and then move to look at the case.
This one’s going to be tougher, since the entire showcase is recessed in the wall; however, there is a panel to change the lights near the top that might work. I can unlock it, but reaching down and in will be impossible unless I stand on something. It’s just too high. I tug on Rose’s sleeve.
“I’m going to boost you up, Brat. Reach in around the light fixtures to pull out the necklace, all right? Here, Take the paperweight too.”
“Umm, Okay—“ she agrees. I lace my fingers and let her step into my hands while I brace my back against the wall. Rose’s warm stomach presses up against me as she leans to reach into the open light panel. I’m not smothering, exactly, but the heated rub of lilac and bare tummy over my face is making me a little dizzy. Don’t want to break her concentration, so I resist the urge to kiss that soft flesh.
“Higher—“ comes her request, and manfully I lift a little more, until her hips are level with my head, and all of a sudden certain sensory input is damn near overwhelming. I’ve got an acute sense of smell, and Rose’s sweet personally feminine fragrance is blowing my mind to be perfectly honest. That combined with the press of her thighs against my chin is enough to make me weak in my OWN knees.
“Rose—“
“--Got it—“ she calls softly, and squirms against me, SQUIRMS! I nip her thigh in revenge, getting a little squeal from her as I loosen my grip and Rose slides down the length of my body. Her eyes are wide with annoyed surprise.
“Why’d you do THAT?”
“Because you were rubbing my face on purpose!” I hiss, not so much annoyed as aroused. Considering how she’s pressing up against me, Rose can’t miss this.
She purrs, rolling her hips wickedly. I bite my lip and count to three.
“Got the necklace?” I rasp, a little hoarsely. She nods.
“Good. Put it on—that’s the easiest way to carry it,” I tell her. She reaches around to do up the clasp, flashing more stomach. It’s too much, and I yank her to me, sliding one hand up under that shirt as I cradle the back of her neck and dive into that mouth of hers.
You know, there’s something about realizing you could get caught at any moment that makes making out incendiary. Cupping Rose’s silky round breast, toying with that hard nipple while kissing her has me hyperventilating. I really, really LOVE this.
Her, I mean.
Hell, the whole scenario. The adrenaline rush you know.
I haven’t done anything this potentially dangerous in a long time, and throwing Rose into the mix is gasoline on a fire that’s been smoldering for a while—gotta wonder who’s getting the most out of this escapade.
She writhes, grinding against me, helpless against the desires of her own body as much as my strength. In everyday life try not to use my height and build over her too much, but right now it’s a moot point. I want her so badly that I’m willing to use any advantage here. Not that Rose is resisting, mind you—
She gurgles, little hands thumping on my ribcage, and the cold heavy weight of the necklace against my side annoyingly reminds me we still have a job to do. I draw in as deep a breath as I can and pin Rose against me, seeking her ear.
“Okay, both of us have got to stop with the teasing or I’m not going to be responsible for what happens, Brat of mine—“
“Okay, okay Boss—“ she gasps. I can feel her heartbeat thumping hard against my chest, her little frame tense with desire. We are SO not being good right now, and she’s the only one who’s ever going to know I’m not nearly as mild-mannered as I appear on the surface.
She steps out of my arms and finishes putting the necklace on, tucking it under the shirt out of sight. I look to see that the paperweight is in place, then follow her back to the gate and slide under. I unhook the bra, let the gate down and check the long entry hall. Rose is squatting next to me, waiting for directions like a good little minion.
I lead the way. We hug the walls, moving slowly down the hall, slipping in and out of alcoves and avoiding the track lighting that throws a soft glow on the floor around us. When we reach the Hall of Cultures, I pause and take stock.
This hall is air conditioned to keep the delicate, antique costumes from deteriorating, so it’s closed off with glass doors and a retracting metal screen. I can pick the lock of the screen, but the glass doors are wired by a time lock to the central air conditioning unit. Dan mentioned it with pride, telling me that this was where the most valuable property was kept. I sigh. Rose stiffens.
“The guard!”
I check my watch; he’s right on time for his round. With a quick lunge, I drop under one of the stone benches in the alcove to the bathrooms. Rose grabs the bag and darts under the other bench, the one facing mine. We hear the slow footsteps, the out of tune whistling—a really mangled version of Lady of Spain I think, and he’s passing by. After a few more minutes I catch Rose’s eye and slowly slide out from under the bench, unfolding myself.
“That was close—“ she sighs. I shake my head.
“That was ME, getting distracted. Back to work—“
I pick the lock on the metal gate and slowly roll it back—we have only twenty minutes until the next time the guard walks through. Rose waggles the bag.
“Okay, Felix, what’s in here that’s going to fix THIS?”
“Let me think—“ I mutter, studying the lock carefully.
It’s got a keypad and a timer on it and I know the code. Fortunately I have a few ideas about how to fool the temperature gauge. I reach in and pull out a Co2 cartridge.
“I’m going to open this lock and when I do, you need to direct this into the edge of the door,” I tell her, “This door, the one with the keypad.
“Aside from the fact you told me to—why?”
“Because there’s a connection plate that’s temperature sensitive. The co2 will keep the temperature low enough to fool the system into thinking that it’s closed. You stand here and hold this in place while I go grab a souvenir.”
“And the code?”
“It’s W-e-s-t-o-n—it would have to be something simple and Dan’s got enough of an ego to name it after himself.”
Rose shoots me a doubtful glance; I give a little smirk and tap the keypad—937866. The door opens with a slight hiss and Rose jabs the co2 cartridge along the silver plated edge. We’ve got about two minutes until the co2 is gone, so I grab another item out of the bag and move swiftly to the prize I earmarked earlier. A scoop, a roll and over my shoulder goes the thick little Chinese rug. I drop the Foundation doormat I brought in its place. Rose lets me squeeze back by her and takes the rug from me while I grab the co2 cartridge she’s holding against the edge. Carefully we begin to pull the glass doors shut, and at the very last sputter of co2, manage to close it shut with a click. The keypad LED wavers a bit, then settles down again. Rose wipes a little trickle of sweat from under my bangs.
“Close?”
“Maybe a little—“ I admit. We get the metal gate rolled shut and locked again, then cautiously work our way down the hall to the Fun with Physics center. This is the interactive section for kids, with lots of hands-on, jump around, climb on exhibits that provide lots of cover for us. I shamelessly have to admit that both Rose and I had more than our share of fun here earlier in the day playing with the ping pong ball drop machine and the strobe light shadowmaker. Neither of these exhibits is my goal at the moment; instead I drag her over to the moonbouncer room.
“What’s in here?” she asks when I push her gently inside. It’s a small net enclosed room with huge foam mats over air mattresses—perfect for little kids to jump around and feel the effects of gravity. It’s also in an alcove, very dark, and by the feel of it, wonderfully comfortable.
“Most important part of the job—“ I assure her, “Be right back.”
Now for some insurance.
I head over the Creation Station and snag a piece of construction paper a marker and some tape.
CLOSED FOR CLEANING
Taping that to the outside of the door, I close it behind us and climb in next to Rose, stretching out on the flexible surface of the moonbouncer.
“Ooooh, pliant!” she giggles softly. In the dark, we can barely see each other. With my foot I carefully shove the bag of tricks into the furthest corner before turning my attention to the bemused woman next to me.
“And now—“
“And now?” she prompts; actually thinking I’ve got a legitimate reason for locking us up in a dark comfortable place. I can’t help but grin—I’m generally considered clean cut, but Rose is positively naïve.
“You have to take your shirt off for this part to work—“ I tell her, keeping my voice serious. She hesitates and I keep up the charade.
“Com’on, hurry—I need the sleeves—“
My tone of voice does it, and Rose peels out of that short shirt, her hair pouring in a silky cascade over her little shoulders. She hands me the shirt and I can see the puzzled tilt of her head.
“Okay—here,“ She murmurs uncertainly. I take it from her and drape it over the bag. She gasps.
“Hey! I thought you needed the sleeves!”
“Shhhhhh. I will, just not right this second,” I murmur, sliding my hands around her and pulling her to me. I pounce, she squeals but not for long since I manage to get my tongue between her lips before much noise escapes.
Ohh the taste of her—Rose is sweet and tangy, and totally uninhibited about kissing. We pretty much end up deep in each other’s mouths, which gets her squirming nicely against me, and considering what I have for her to squirm against, I am feeling No Pain.
What I AM feeling are possible the most delectable breasts I’ve ever had the privilege to indulge in—high, firm, and completely mine in the possessive sense, which is pretty amazing considering I’m not normally so hormonally driven. It’s funny but a lot of people are under the mistaken impression that I’m wholesome and straight laced when it comes to matters of the heart and body, but nothing could be further from the truth. For the record I’m as unabashedly horny and dirty-minded at the next red-blooded man—I just hide it better.
I’ve got the vocabulary, but I can’t use it, thanks to a vigilant mother and Lava soap. It’s true—I can barely whisper most four-letter words because anything louder brings back memories of that soapy taste in a hurry. And since that’s the case I just let my fingers do the talking for me.
Fortunately, Rose’s body is an explosive dialog in erotica, hot and lush. It took long enough for the two of us to get to some serious body talk and we’ve been making up for missed conversations with a vengeance. She’s sleek and sweet, curvy and full of unexpected thrills for hands like mine. I can cup her butt comfortably in my hands but not her chest, which puts an unbearably exciting definition on abundance. All of those curves and muscles are mine for the touching and stroking and kissing, oh yeah.
At the moment I’m seriously striving for a full body Braille lesson. From the squirming and whimpering I’m to saying a lot and Rose is definitely into the conversation.
I trail my mouth down her chin and over the hollow at the base of her throat as my hands toy with her chest. In the dark it’s like being back in the tree house, sixteen and hopelessly horny, half afraid of being caught, and desperately loving ever inch of skin I can get. Rose is no slouch, and she’s managed to claw my shirt up enough to reach my flesh. It’s pointless in acting the Shy Boy now, not with her determined little hands sliding up my back and her teeth in my shoulder.
I’m gasping a bit as Rose wrestles me down and proceeds to kiss the living daylights out of me. One little hand goes over my mouth and she nibbles down my chest, taking a nip or two on the way. Panting, me? Umm, that’s a definite yes. She fumbles at my fly, and suddenly I’m being taken rather sensually in hand while I squirm against those other fingers against my lips.
“Shhhhhh—quiet, Mastermind!” she warns playfully with a soft squeeze up the length of me. Oh this is bad. I mean VERY bad—my brain figures it’s done enough work tonight and is shutting down while other urgent parts of me are playing into Rose’s hands as she half straddles me. Hand. God WHAT a hand. Stroking, nice, NICE stroking, lovely just PERFECT stroking—
“You LIKE that—“ Rose accuses me. I don’t feel I can actually deny this as I rock my hips and shudder a bit.
“Lies have no place---ung!-- in our relationship—“ I gasp. She giggles.
“You’re very big, Mac—what do you want to do?”
She’s going to try and make me say it. She knows I can’t, not outside the actual throes of passion, but she keeps trying and I keep circumventing her.
“Want to do YOU,” I grunt.
“Do WHAT to me, you evil-minded criminal mastermind?” Oh God her fingers are rubbing, she’s got that lovely chest in my face—I lock my hands on each of her hips and yank on those sweats. She squeaks.
“Give you a lesson in lubricity and friction—“ I hiss triumphantly. Quivering with glee and lust my bouncy minion shifts herself until I have her right where she NEEDS to be.
Utterly sweet and searingly hot; both of us moan as she straddles me in this bare honest moment of desire and need. I want Rose, NEED Rose for my body’s lust and my soul’s peace. She completes me, brings me a serenity I never thought I would find in all my years of loving and looking. Lips press to mine; my tongue glides home into her mouth and we love.
*** *** ***
Baby wipes can be used for SO much. In this case I’m wiping MY baby and she’s giggling again.
“So considerate! Did you bring—“ she yawns, “—A pillow?”
I tap my chest and she snuggles down comfortably for the moment. I check my watch.
“So we rest up for a bit and break out?”
“Nope—we’re sleeping in—the museum doesn’t open until ten,” I tell her, bagging the wipes and sticking them back in the bag. Rose yawns again.
“Are you nuts? They’re going to catch us?”
“Nope—trust me, it’ll be fine. Get some sleep, Sidekick—“
I feel her drop off, her breathing evening out softly.
I used to have a paper route years ago, and the conditioned reflex for waking
up at any given hour is still in me. By eight thirty, I’m alert and surprisingly
well rested. If you’ve never had the chance to sleep on a moon bouncer, I highly
recommend it. Of course, having phenomenal sex on one is pretty magnificent
too—
I wake Rose, who’s a tad groggy.
“Wha--?”
“Morning babe—time to haul our loot off and make Dan think twice about security—“
“Okayyyy—“ she closes her eyes again and it takes a bit of shaking on my part to get her to actually wake up. She grouses.
“I want my toothbrush and I need a bathroom!”
“Right outside the bouncer and to the left—“ I remind her. She shoots me a suspicious look.
“Just—go right out?”
“Sure—but put this on FIRST.”
Out of the bag I pull a colorful apron and toss it at her; she grins.
“A docent smock! We’re going to—“
“Work here. I figured we could hang out here in the Interactive center for a while and then take off—“
Rose pulls the smock on and ties it up, adjusting the nametag that reads DAISY before smirking at me.
“Does that make you Donald?”
“Nope, I get to be Sam—“ I reply, pulling out my own smock.
The staff lounge door was easy to pick, and in a few minutes I’ve got the coffeemaker going; a few other docents wander in.
“New?” A thin guy with a frizzy ponytail asks, pouring himself a cup.
“Yeah, Daisy and I got our paperwork finished Thursday—I’m Sam Addams—“ I tell him. He nods with disinterest, perking up only when Rose comes sauntering in.
“Ooooh—“
“Too late—she’s married,” I tell him before munching on my pop tart at one of the tiny Formica tables. Rose shakes his hand.
“Daisy Miller—“ she lies through her smile.
“Randy Larson,” he nods. Another docent, an older woman with dazzling teeth walks up to him with a clipboard.
“Randy, we need the lenses cleaned on the microscope table, and someone’s got to pick all the balls up from the ball pit—“
He turns and points to us with his chin.
“Those two—“
By noon the place is packed, and I can see that Rose is actually having a blast
over at the Shadowmaker wall. She’s encouraging the kids to dance and jump while
I’m patiently trying to get two eight year olds to stop poking each other long
enough to look in the microscope. I check my watch once more. It’s time.
“Okay, Drew, Lou—enough!” I hand a stopwatch to the nearest one. “Breath holding contest—time your brother and then switch—winner gets extra time in the moon bouncer—“
They shut up in a hurry and I saunter off towards Rose, nodding at her. She follows me.
“Time to head out—“
We walk out slowly, still wearing our smocks, carrying the bag and chatting away. No one looks twice at us, even in the crowds of visitors—I mean, what’s to see? Two docents coming off their shift, going home.
With the equivalent of 28 thousand dollars in their bag.
EPILOG
Well it took almost six hours before anyone at the museum admitted that they’d been robbed. Dan was nearly apoplectic, and had to be shown the paperweights and floor mat. By the time I got the call from Pete to come back with the goods, Rose and I were on the verge of making dinner and plans for a movie. Much as I wanted to make Dan wait, we returned, loot in tow.
Dan had a strange look on his face, a grim bemused expression that put me on edge. Pete was openly smirking.
“And?”
“Well. Not much to say, really. We definitely need to beef up security, and we’ll take into advisement most of your suggestions, MacGyver. In fact, considering that the Foundation is going to be contracted for it, you MAY want this as a down payment—“
He hands over a videotape.
I’m confused.
“The museum doesn’t have any surveillance cameras,” Rose comments slowly. Dan grins.
“Not in the exhibit halls, no. But with child abductions being so prevalent in the news, we installed a few—in the Interactive center.”
Rose blushes. Pete smirks. Dan shakes his head slowly. I’m stunned. A camera?
“Ahhh—“ I can’t think of a single thing to say! Dan grins.
“Shall we call it a draw, MacGyver?”
And then they’re all laughing, even Rose, who takes the tape and hugs me.
“Our own caper, preserved on film—“ she croons in my ear, “You’re SUCH a mastermind!”
What can I say? We Cat Burglar geniuses are gifted.
END