I have an unhealthy addicton to writing Alex's POV.
So, I took a fairly unoriginal idea and spiced it up with a little figurative language and some weird sentence structure. Yep. I've turned into Annie Proulx. I'm not sure it's a good thing, since I've never really liked any of her work. Movies based on her writing, yes. (Brokeback Mountain, The Shipping News) The actual writing, no. (The Shipping News, Accordian Crimes) But Whatever.
Also, someone (you know who you are) suggested to me the idea of using song lyrics as titles. Which I like because then I don't feel like the entire song has to reflect the feeling of the story, just that specific lyric. It's all about specificity, people. I'm going to try it out. I'll identify the song and album at the end of the story.
Speaking of the story...
Here t'is:
Dirty and Sweet
Alex thought it was sweet that she'd offered to show him around the city. He knew she was enjoying it too. Getting to play tour guide. Still, it was sweet.
Because really, she could have been at the hotel preparing for tomorrow. Or catching up on sleep. They'd missed out on a night's worth during their flight.
Still, she had offered to show him around. Do the tourist thing. She said she enjoyed seeing the city from a visitor's perspective. Said she refused to surrender to jet-lag.
He suspected she didn't want him getting lost.
Well, he could deal with that. Truthfully, he probably would have been lost without her. New York was a little overwhelming.
It helped having a native with him. And frankly, he found it sexy.
There really wasn't any other word for it. The way she knew her way around the city was sexy. The way she hailed a cab was sexy. And he'd almost passed out on the escalator. Where she'd taken him by the collar and gently pulled him to the right before leaning into him and whispering,
"You're blocking traffic."
The sound of her voice pitched so low was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. And her nearness. He could feel her breath on his cheek. The intoxicating smell of her lingered in his nostrils long after she retreated to a more appropriate distance.
Yeah. She was sexy.
They had fun too. She knew how to show a visitor a good time. She was easy to get along with.
He found himself chatting and joking more than usual because the conversation felt comfortable. She asked him what he thought of the city. He told her it took some getting used to. Everything either stacked sky high or buried underground.
Having grown up in Iowa he was used to a world that was pretty much flat.
"Actually I think some of the dudes I wrestled with in high school really believed that if you walked far enough you'd just fall off the edge."
"Obviously, most wrestlers are morons. You must be the exception," she smiled.
"Is that a compliment?"
"I don't give compliments."
They were masters at dancing the line between flirtation and professionalism. Sometimes he wanted desperately to cross it. Peel away layers of clothing. Taste her lips. Her skin. Whisper things into her hair as he moved inside her. The sexual tension between them was like a tightly coiled spring. One more twist and it might snap.
And God sometimes he wanted it to.
Other times the professional respect they had for one another seemed far too important to jeopardize. The stirrings of accomplishment, of pride, she could inspire in him were equally powerful to those stirrings he felt watching the swing of her hips beneath a tight skirt.
She'd had him in mind.
He was in her office during the phone call. Overheard her discussing the facts of a specialty case. It had all seemed very routine.
"Gestation?
"That's cutting it a little short, don't you think?
"No, of course I'd be willing to fly out.
"I'll have to clear it with my Chief of Surgery but it shouldn't be a problem?
"Yes.
"The seventeenth?
"O.k."
And then...
"Just one more thing. You're aware Seattle Grace is a teaching hospital?
"Yes, I'd like to bring an intern to assist me on the case. I have someone in mind."
I have someone in mind.
She'd given him a look as she said that. Raised her eyebrows. Half smiled. Letting him know he was her first choice.
He'd walked on air for the rest of the day.
They'd spent the plane ride discussing the case. Going over papers and textbooks. It was mostly for his benefit. She was already an expert.
She brought up the possibility of him taking a fellowship at Mount Sinai.
"I know it wont come up for a while but you should keep it in mind while we're there. Get a feel for the hospital. Start thinking about whether you'd be interested. It's a competitive program but I think you'd be good enough to go for it."
I think you'd be good enough to go for it
Those words echoed in his mind for most of the day. A compliment like that from Addison Montgomery was huge. Huger than The Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty combined. And there was no way he was going to be able to focus on the landmarks after she'd said something like that. Instead he found himself focusing on her.
New York suited her. The backdrop of tall, slender skyscrapers complimented her height. Made her legs seem longer if that was even possible. She was happy too so she took longer strides. Shoes slicing the pavement.
She was confidence in tailored pants and a blazer. Black. All women in New York seemed to wear black. But her hair made her stand out.
She drew attention. Or maybe it was just that he was so captivated by her that he assumed everyone else must be as well. Transfixed by the curl of her lips, somewhere between a sneer and a smile. Her eyes, heavy lidded, seeming to drip sex. Her skin, ivory, porcelain, flower petal soft...
They parted ways in the hotel lobby. He to the gift shop in search of a toothbrush, she to the elevator and then their rooms. The hospital had arranged a suite.
He swept his key card and found her seated on the carpet in yoga pants and a "T.Rex, Electric Warrior " T-shirt. Hair down and no makeup.
She looked beautiful.
She was painting her toenails a chintzy, bubblegum pink he knew no one would ever see because she didn't consider open-toed shoes appropriate for the workplace. He was reminded of the salmon scrubs she'd worn during her first weeks at Seattle Grace.
He dropped onto the couch and flicked on the television. Found a sports network and muted it. She finished painting her toenails and returned the polish to her purse. The zipper purred closed. Silence.
Then she said,
"So they seem to think we're sleeping together."
He blinked. Stunned. Then swallowed his surprise and managed a weak,
"What?"
She nodded towards the bedroom and he saw immediately what she meant.
"Personally, I don't blame them." Barely perceptible sarcasm. She was joking. He recognized the deadpan delivery that allowed her to be funny without sacrificing dignity. "I mean, you hear Seattle Grace and it's only natural to assume..." She laughed. "I called the front desk and apparently there's nothing they can do about it until tomorrow. So..."
He gulped nervously.
"Well, it's not like... I mean... It's a pretty big bed."
She turned towards him, raising an eyebrow.
"You know, a gentleman would have offered to sleep on the couch."
He flushed. Felt himself going red. Ears burning.
"I mean... Right. Yeah. You're totally right."
"Relax." She shrugged, lips curling into a smile. "I'd rather you were well rested. It's a big bed."
2:17 am and he couldn't get to sleep. Staring at the ceiling.
Over starched sheets rustled against his skin, hypersensitive because of his close proximity to her. He could sense her every movement. Knew without looking that she was lying on her side with her back to him. Knew the position would accentuate the curve of her hips, her narrow waist. Knew every flexure would be visible through the delicate, Egyptian linen bedspread.
2:38 am. He stole a glance.
In the darkened room her hair looked the colour of red wine. Spilling over her shoulders and pooling on the pillows. He was painfully aware that she was close enough to touch. He could reach out and have his fingers in that hair. He grunted and quickly turned away.
"Stop fidgeting. I'm trying to sleep." Her voice cut through the silent room, jolting him from his half conscious state.
He gulped.
"You're awake?"
"Yeah," she sighed, rolling towards him. "Couldn't sleep."
"Same." He stayed flat on his back, hands tucked behind his head.
Suddenly she was half on top of him, elbows digging into his ribs, as she groped for the clock radio. Squinted at the digital display.
He froze under her. Stomach clenched. Held his breath until she rolled away again, swearing.
"Shit. It's two-forty-one."
"Yeah. That hurt, by the way." He could still feel her imprint burned into his torso.
"Sorry."
She sighed. "We have to be at the hospital in six hours and nineteen minutes. We haven't had any sleep in atleast thirty-six hours. We should not be awake right now. This obviously isn't working."
"No."
She glanced at him, chewing her lip.
"Look, this is going to sound crazy..." She was nervous.
He swallowed.
"This is going to sound crazy but... Never mind."
"Look, if you've got something to say then just..."
She kissed him.
Lips rolling over his. Tongue snaking into his mouth.
Then he was pulling her into him. And his hands were in her hair. And a tug on the front of his shirt and a half roll and he was on top of her. Straddling her hips. And she was gazing up at him with her hooded, half lidded eyes. And a look on her face that could only be interpreted as,
"D' you wanna?"
He felt a dorky grin spreading across his face. Twisted it into a cocky smirk.
She smiled a lazy, sexy smile and whispered,
"Just to help us get to sleep."
"Yeah. Totally." The barely concealed eagerness in his voice reminded him a little of George O'Mally.
Not a sexy thought.
She laughed.
Then she took the collar of his shirt. Gently pulled him to her and kissed him again.
And her hands went under his shirt. Mapping his spine. His chest. His stomach.
His own hands traced her ribs. Circled her breasts. Trying to feel everything at once as he slowly inched her shirt up her abdomen. Exposed a smooth expanse of well-toned muscle and skin. Flawless. His hands looked so dark against that skin.
He trailed his fingers over her. Pulled her shirt over her head and Oh God Addison was half naked underneath him.
He shed his own shirt and lowered himself to her. Attacking that skin with hands and mouth. Cupping her breasts. Dragging his teeth over her throat. Kissing. Licking.
And she moaned and writhed beneath him.
Then he paused for breath. Relaxed. And their hurried groping became a slow, smouldering exploration of each other's bodies.
He tangled his fingers with hers and drew her own hands up and down her sides with his. Then pinned one hand over her head and trailed kisses from her wrist to the soft skin at the inside of her upper arm. Keeping their fingers twined and looping his other arm around her waist he drew her against him. Kissed across her shoulder to the hallow above her collar bone.
She gasped when he closed her skin in his teeth. Then giggled when he licked the mark and then blew softly on her wet skin. He continued to kiss up her neck. Felt her pulse against his lips. Kissed along her jaw line. The corner of her mouth curling into a smile as he kissed her there. Then their lips met again and both sighed and sank into each other.
Addison's kiss was an invitation, soft and yielding, filled with slow, smooth heat. Her hands stroked his jaw lightly, not pulling him to her but asking that he take her to him. He slipped an arm beneath her, drawing her to his chest. Their skin touched, their bodies melted together and everything dissolved into a dizzying haze of pleasure.
He experienced wave after wave of sensation, a touch, a smell, a sound. Brief moments of clarity that dazzled him with their beauty and intensity.
Addison arching her long back and letting her head fall onto the pillows as his mouth closed over her breast.
Addison's mouth falling open in a noiseless gasp as his tongue circled her nipple.
Addison watching him toy with the lace edging her panties. Head tilted sideways. Mouth quirking into an amused smile. Teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
The slippery smoothness of Addison's hair.
The smell of her skin.
Her wet heat against his fingers through her panties.
The way that just rubbing his stubble against her inner thigh was enough to make her entire body tremble after the slow build of two sticky sweet hours of drowsy arousal.
Addison staring him in the eye as she slipped a hand inside his boxers.
Addison staring him in the eye as he slipped inside of her.
Addison's eyes fluttering shut as she neared her first orgasm.
Addison on top of him, hair spilling over her shoulders to tickle his chest. One long strand curled around her nipple.
Early morning sunlight glowing golden against Addison's sweat-slicked skin. Then setting her hair on fire beneath his fingers.
The buzzing of the alarm clock mingling with Addison's final breathless scream.
They lay against each other, a tangle of naked, sweaty arms and legs. Spent. Silent. The digital display of the alarm clock blinking noiseless accusations at them. Addison started to laugh. Softly.
"So much for helping us get to sleep."
"Whatever," he yawned. "It was worth it."
She laughed again. Shook her head from side to side. Then slipped away to the bathroom, calling over her shoulder,
"You're not allowed to fall asleep on me today."
He groaned and stumbled to the coffee-maker. Almost dozed off to the gurgling hiss of the machine. The sound of Addison's shower in the background. He wondered if they would ever discuss what had happened. Probably not.
Later the Chief of Surgery at Mount Sinai would apologize personally for the mix up with the rooms and Addison would respond,
"It's alright. We dealt with the situation. Doctor Karev and I are professionals."
Song: "Get It On" T.Rex, Electric Warrior
Well you're dirty and sweet,
Clad in Black,
Don't look back,
And I love you.
You're dirty and sweet, oh yea.
Anyone interested in a sequel? I have a couple ideas floating around, so if there's interest...
Review please.