by Radclyffe
“No. I was just lying here plotting my escape.”
Cam laughed with just a hint of sarcasm. “Why is it that I believe you?”
A faint smile flickered across Blair’s full lips. For an instant, her eyes sparkled with a youthful joy that had not been present for many years. “Perhaps because you’re starting to learn my tricks.”
Cameron edged the chair close to the side of the bed and sat, leaning forward so that Blair could see her. Softly she said, “I doubt very much that I will ever recognize all of your tricks.”
“You might,” Blair whispered, “if you gave me the chance to teach you.”
It was Cameron’s turn to smile. She chose to ignore the remark, instinctively sensing Blair’s vulnerability, and recognizing that this was not a time for them to struggle. She stared at Blair’s hand, lying motionless on the thin hospital-issue covers. She remembered the grace with which that same hand had moved across the sketch pad, capturing her own likeness with startling perceptiveness. No one since her mother had been able to portray her so accurately. Without meaning to, Cameron gently covered Blair’s slender fingers with her own. She had meant to reassure her, and found herself reassured instead.
For a brief moment on the mountainside, she had thought that Blair was injured. Her choking fear was much more than just her concern for the person she guarded. She could not bear the thought of Blair being harmed, and she dared not examine too closely the reasons why.
Cameron cleared her throat, trying to ignore the sudden tingling in her fingers as Blair intertwined her fingers with Cam’s. “Your assailant was a 16 your old boy who decided he was going to ski downhill through the trees from an adjoining trail. He wasn’t even supposed to be there, but somehow no one was watching that particular part of the course. He had no idea who you were, and in fact I still don’t think he does.”
“So I’m safe for the moment?” Blair asked with just a hint of bitterness.
Cam nodded. “We’ve managed to keep this very low profile, and I don’t think there’s going to be much publication about it in the media.”
Blair sighed gratefully. “Thank you. I want to get out of here this afternoon and go back to the lodge.”
“Why does that not surprise me either?” Cam said with resignation. “I’ve taken the liberty of checking with your physicians, and they told me that if your headache is okay, they’d be willing to discharge you.”
“Good. I feel like I’m in a fish bowl in here.”
Cameron stood, resisting the urge to brush the errant strands of blond hair off Blair’s cheek. “I’ll see to the arrangements.”
Cameron was almost to the door before Blair spoke. “Thank you for protecting me this afternoon,” she said softly. She still felt the unexpected comfort of Cameron’s embrace as she had lain in Cam’s arms in the snow.
Cameron gripped the handle so hard her fingers ached. For a brief moment, she felt again the sheer terror she had experienced as she watched Blair fall. She could not afford to feel that for her. She could not afford to feel anything for her. In a tone harsher than she intended, she said sharply, “I was only doing in my job, Ms. Powell.”
Then she was gone, and Blair was alone once more.
Chapter Fifteen
“How’s your head?” Cam asked as she slipped into the seat next to Blair.
“I’ll live,” Blair responded, strangely subdued. In fact, the slightest vertical movement of the aircraft produced a wave of nausea that threatened to overpower her considerable self-control. Fortunately, the skies were clear and the jet streaked toward New York City with very little turbulence. Otherwise, she was very much afraid she would embarrass herself.
It didn’t escape Cam’s notice that Blair’s face was chalk white, and her normally crystal clear blue eyes clouded with pain. Cam inclined her head closer, although the other agents and Diane were 10 rows further forward, engaged in conversation or napping. She and Blair were quite alone. Nevertheless, Cam did not want their private conversation overheard. “You don’t have to be a hero, you know. Why don’t you take a couple of pain pills and try to rest.”
Blair started to shake her head, and abruptly stopped when the slight movement caused her stomach to lurch. “Believe me, Commander, I am no hero. The problem is, the pain pills tend to make me sicker than the pain.”
Cam laughed softly as she shifted in her seat and pushed the center arm rest up out of the way. She laid her left arm along the backs of the seats and offered Blair her shoulder. “Just try to close your eyes for the rest of the flight. It’s probably the only thing that will do any good. Believe me, I’ve been in your position more than once. The only way to get through it is pills or sleep.”
Blair knew instinctively that Cam’s offer of comfort was prompted by sympathy, and no special feelings for her. Nevertheless, what she needed at that moment was precisely what Cameron offered. Simple human comfort. She allowed her body to relax against Cam’s side, and rested her head in the curve of Cam’s arm. She knew she wouldn’t sleep, but perhaps if she closed her eyes the pain would lessen.
Cam gently stretched her legs out in front of her and settled back into the seat. In only a minute or two, she knew from the rhythmic motion of Blair’s breathing that she had settled into sleep. The faint background drone of the engines and the warmth of Blair’s body along her side lulled her into a sense of peacefulness that she had long forgotten. She stared out the window, and thought of nothing. For those few precious hours, Blair’s presence was all she needed. As she dozed, she rested her cheek on the fragrant softness of Blair’s hair.
———
As the plane touched down, Cam and Blair awoke together. Neither of them moved. Cam’s hand had drifted down from the seat and was curled gently along Blair’s side, resting just beneath her breast. In her sleep, Blair had turned to thread her arm around Cam’s waist. She lay with her head tucked beneath Cam’s chin, resting in her arms. They held each other as if it had always been.
As the others in the cabin began to stand and stretch, Cam lifted her arm from around Blair’s body, acutely aware of how much she did not want to let her go. “Ms. Powell, we need to depart.”
With a sigh, Blair pushed herself upright and brushed her hands through her wild tresses. She noted with just a hint of surprise that her headache was gone. “Yes, of course we do.”
She glanced at Cameron, startled to see a fleeting look that might have been regret cross her handsome face. Then, the professional impenetrable mask returned, and Cam simply smiled in agreement.
Cam left her then to move forward and speak to her people regarding the plans for transportation back to the townhouse. Diane worked her way down the aisle to Cam’s vacant seat. “You two looked very cozy together,” she remarked dryly.
“Leave it alone, Diane,” Blair said quietly.
Diane bit back the retort she had been about to make. There was something in her old friend’s voice that warned her off. In fact, they had looked very good together. Too good together. They looked as if they had held each other a thousand times before. Diane simply shook her head and left unspoken her words of caution. Something told her that Blair was beyond hearing.
———
Cameron sat her paper cup of coffee down on the worktable and glanced over at Mac with a quizzical lift of her eyebrow. “Is she still upstairs?”
“Yup, three days straight,” Mac said with a shake of his head.
Cameron wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she knew she didn’t like it. Ever since they had touched down at JFK, Blair had not been herself. She had sent word that she intended to work in her studio, and would not require daily meetings with Cameron. Cam had not protested, feeling that to do so would be a further invasion of Blair’s privacy. Nevertheless, the atmosphere in the command center resembled the calm before the storm. All of them expected Blair to burst forth from her isolation at any moment, and lead them once again on a merry chase. For her part, Cam almost wished she would. There was
something unnerving about the sudden change in Blair’s behavior.
Better the enemy I know, Cam muttered to herself. She picked up her coffee and headed to her small glass enclosed office. Mac looked after her, thinking that Blair Powell wasn’t the only one who was not acting like themselves.
Things continued much the same for another week. The agents came and went, whiling away the hours of their shift reading, talking in hushed tones, and generally wondering when the bomb would drop. Cam spent as little time as possible within the confines of the command center. She jogged, she worked out, she read in her apartment. She left strict orders to be called the moment Blair gave any indication that she was preparing to leave the building. On the night of the eighth day, the call finally came.
“She just got into a cab and is headed downtown,” Mac informed her.
“Shit,” Cam cursed. “How did you let that happen?”
Mac’s discomfort was nearly palpable, even over the phone. “There wasn’t anything we could do short of physically stopping her. She just walked out of the building, stepped into the street, and flagged a checkered down. We were lucky to get the car out fast enough to follow her.”
Cam sighed slightly in relief. “Then you have her in sight?”
“Roger that. Hold on a second—”
Cam paced the confines of her living room, the cellular phone gripped tightly in her hand. Although they had had no further contact from whoever had left the note outside Blair’s door, she was worried that they weren’t the only ones watching the President’s daughter. Anytime Blair was without an escort, Cam was fearful for her safety.
“She just went into a bar on Houston,” Mac informed her.
“Name and address?” Cam asked tersely.
“Rendezvous,” Mac stated. After a second, he gave her the address as well.
“I’m on my way.”
Less than 15 minutes later, Cam was in the bar, scanning the already crowded dance floor and surrounding tables for Blair. It was approaching midnight on a Saturday night, and the room was packed. The lighting was dim and the air thick with smoke, making it difficult for her to see across the room. She began threading her way through the crowd at the perimeter of the room, guessing that Blair would be in the shadows somewhere. Sure enough, she finally saw her talking to a young woman with impressive tattoos encircling both upper arms.
The woman with Blair was obviously a serious body builder, and her tight white tank top was clearly meant to display her hard-earned physique. She wore low-cut button fly jeans that showed off her muscular thighs to full advantage. At the moment, her hand was stroking the length of the Blair’s bare arm, drawing closer to Blair’s breast with each movement. Cam gritted her teeth, and tried to ignore the seduction in progress. She watched as Blair pressed closer to the other woman, remembering the moment when Blair had moved against her like that, claiming her insistently with a kiss. Cam’s body immediately stirred to the memory, her clitoris hardening almost instantly.
Jesus Christ, what the hell is the matter with you? Cameron forced herself to ignore the throbbing in her belly. Nevertheless, she found herself averting her gaze when Blair cupped the woman’s face in her hand and licked slowly along the edge of her jaw, finally thrusting her tongue between her lips. That was the moment when Cam finally admitted to herself that she couldn’t do what she had come there to do. Anger surged through her as she spoke harshly into her collar microphone.
“I want the first team in here now to take over this surveillance.” She abruptly turned her back as the two women began to kiss ferociously, their hands roaming over each other’s bodies with abandon. As soon as she saw her people enter the bar, she pushed her way through the crowd and out onto the street. She crossed quickly to her car and radioed headquarters.
“Mac, I want you to take over for me for the next twelve hours. If there’s an emergency, page me. Otherwise, I’m unavailable.”
She didn’t wait for his reply but drove directly to JFK airport. As she waited in a terminal for her flight, she dialed a familiar number in Washington D.C., and arranged for the only hope she had of driving Blair from her consciousness.
Chapter Sixteen
“Ah, god—I can’t,” Cam gasped hoarsely, “I’m sorry—I just—can’t.”
The blonde raised her head, gazing up the long expanse of Cams torso. “That’s not what your body is saying.” She rested her cheek against Cams thigh, one hand softly stroking between Cams legs. “Besides, I’m not done yet.”
Cam gently insinuated her fingers into the hair at the back of her visitor’s neck. She tugged softly. “Come up and lie beside me,” she whispered.
Claire slipped from between Cam’s legs and moved up to recline against Cam’s body, resting her head on Cam’s shoulder. Her hand lay lightly on Cam’s belly.
Cam shifted slightly, brushing a kiss across Claire’s forehead. “Let me make love you,” she said softly. It was the first time she had ever suggested it.
“That’s not what this is about. I don’t need you to do that.”
“I need to,” Cam insisted. “After all this time, I want to give you something back.”
Claire nodded, hearing what Cam wasn’t saying. She knew that Cam wanted more than to thank her. Cam wanted to say goodbye. Over the years, there had been many goodbyes. This was one that was going to be hard.
“Just hold me,” Claire requested. “That’s all I need.”
Cam was weary, too weary to protest. She cradled the other woman closer, closed her eyes, and tried to empty her mind. She tried not to think about her anger and confusion every time she imagined Blair making love to yet another stranger. She tried to ignore what she knew very well was jealousy. She tried to ignore the simple fact that she wanted it to be her that Blair was caressing.
Claire ran her fingers lightly over Cam’s flushed skin, tracing the outline of her ribs and hip, stroking the soft curve of the underside of her breasts, smoothing the flat of her hand over the taut muscles of her stomach. Slowly, Cam relaxed under her touch.
Eventually, Cam’s thoughts were eclipsed by an awareness of her body’s response to Claire’s attention. Her skin began to tingle, her leg muscles tightened, and her hips began to rock slightly as her clitoris once again swelled in anticipation. This time, her urgency was gone, and she allowed herself the luxury of simply accepting the pleasure. Her mind collapsed into a single point of sensation, centered within the pulsating pressure between her legs. She groaned, and lifted her pelvis higher, silently urging Claire’s hand lower. Her breath escaped on a sigh as two fingers enclosed the shaft of her clitoris, milking it slowly and firmly from the base to the tip. She felt wetness spread along the inside of her thighs, and when one soft stroke brushed the warm moisture over the exposed tip of her clitoris, she moaned again.
“God, that makes me want to come,” she murmured breathlessly.
Clara smiled faintly, her fingers slipping inside, then back out and upward, a steady rhythm that matched Cam’s unconscious movements. She sensed the building pressure, and felt the tender tissues beneath her fingertips thicken even more, swelling to the point of explosion.
Cam gripped the sheets convulsively in her left hand, her right arm holding Claire tightly. She turned her face into the sweet comfort of Claire’s hair, and allowed her body to surrender to the inevitable. As her stomach clenched and a hoarse cry was wrenched from her depths, Blair Powell’s face flickered across the inner surface of her eyelids.
———
300 miles away, Blair stood in a small apartment on the fourth floor of a building in Greenwich Village. She casually studied the clothes hanging on a rack that had been pushed into the corner of a small bedroom, seeming to have forgotten the woman who had brought her there.
“Nice collection of ties you have here,” Blair commented as she fingered the lengths of silk and cotton draped over a hanger at the end of the rack. Without looking at the other woman, she continued, “Let’s see what kind of use we c
an put these to. Why don’t you take your clothes off and lie face down on the bed.”
The young butch stared at her in amazement. Clearly, Blair’s shoulder length blonde hair, tight white T-shirt, full breasts and graceful carriage did not necessarily spell ‘femme’. As much as she hated to relinquish her butch dominance, she was intrigued and more than a little excited by the commanding town in Blair’s voice. Trying to maintain her façade of nonchalance, the dark-haired body builder removed her leather and denim, pulled off her briefs, and shed her boots and socks. Naked, and feeling more than a little uncertain, she lay face down on her own bed, welcoming the pillow that allowed her to hide her face.
Blair crossed to her side, and slipped a loop fashioned from one of the ties around the woman’s right wrist. She ran the length of fabric over the mattress and around the bed frame, quickly following suit with the other wrist and both ankles. Once the woman was totally immobilized, she removed the pillow.
“I want you to be able to breathe. But keep your eyes closed.”
Blair stepped back, lit several candles she had noticed on the windowsill, and placed them on the small bedside table. In the flickering candlelight, she allowed herself to study the woman’s body. She was beautiful. Smooth tight skin; muscles rippling under the sweat-slick surface; thick lustrous hair just beginning to curl at the base of her neck. Her face in profile was sharply defined and arrogant even in repose. Altogether she was a fine specimen of young butch sexuality. Still, Blair struggled not to compare her form to the long lean lines of Cam’s body. She did not want to remember the alluring maturity etched into Cam’s elegant features, or the smoldering sensuality in her dark eyes, or the aching softness of her full lips. Blair had tried to eliminate the memory of Cam’s arms around her with hours upon days of work in her secluded loft, and she had failed. The only way she could drive thoughts of Cam from her awareness was to fill her senses with the sight, and sound, and feel of another woman.
