His Cold Blue Command

by A. J. Downey

  I gave her the time to fully process those thoughts and feelings, washing her hair for her, lovingly slathering my hands over her skin with soap, caressing every dip and curve of her physique while she calmed. My touch was intended to soothe and it did. I was pleased with how responsive she was to my attentions and to my moods, it strengthened my resolve that she was the one for me. No mistakes, no going back. God, why would I ever want to go back?

  She shivered a little as I wrapped a towel around my hips and handed her one for her long hair. She bowed, wrapping it up into one of those turbans girls were so fond of before trying to take the towel I had for her body. I wouldn’t let her have it. Instead, I rubbed her briskly through the terrycloth and told her, “Get under the covers and get warm. I’m going to start your clothes in the dryer and then I’m having my dessert first.”

  I gave her a playful slap on the ass and she jumped, yipping in surprise. She went to the bed, suddenly all happy and glowing and I loved that.

  Her clothes drying, I went back to my room and spent the next twenty or thirty minutes making her howl. It was a good way to start the night, one I wouldn’t mind repeating every Friday night from here on out, but I didn’t want to get too ahead of myself. I needed to make sure for myself and for her that this was good for us both. Healthy in a way that no other relationship I had before, was. I was fairly certain of it, however. Especially considering that everything about what was blossoming between Ally and me felt different from anything that had come before.

  I watched her, in the mirror beside mine as she put the finishing touches on her makeup. She had found some sort of over-large women’s country blouse, a plaid pattern in salmon, yellows, purple, and white. By itself, it was crazy to think she could do anything with it, but she had also found a slim, brown leather belt and a pair of sandals that matched. She rolled the sleeves to her elbows and used the little straps on the inside of them to hold them back.

  I leaned against the vanity and crossed my arms over my simple tee shirt and jeans ensemble and watched her as she applied a shimmery peachy-gloss to her sensual lips and turned to me, asking, “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re going to lose the panties and I think that it will do for tonight because you’re fucking gorgeous, but at the same time, this is the last time you get on the back of my bike dressed for the ride and not for the slide.”

  She swallowed hard and asked, “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a late summer out there,” I said with a shrug. “Hot, so you won’t be cold and you’re probably going to enjoy the ride – but if something were to happen? If I laid the bike with you dressed like that?” I shook my head.

  “So lend me a pair of jeans. I’ll put my sneakers back on and when we get there, two minutes in the bathroom and I’ll be back to this.”

  I smiled, “Love the practicality…” I pulled her close and kissed her forehead so I wouldn’t ruin her lips she’d just put on. “I mean it about the panties, though. They’re gone.”

  “Yes, sir,” she murmured, breathy.

  Accommodations made to her outfit, we headed out for the 10-13. She held onto me, and smiled the whole ride, letting the wind wash over her. She was a different woman than a week or two ago. Lighter somehow, the veil of somberness lifted from her. Her burdens less. I was pleased that I could do that for her, and relieved of my own heavy weight at the same time. She did that for me, simply by trusting and accepting me. For loving me the way I was, without caveats or condition.

  I honestly hadn’t thought I would ever have that.

  I knew I was in for it the moment we walked through the door at the 10-13, but I was in far too good of a mood to let it bother me when Pasquale, Chrissy’s drag queen, nurse, friend barked in my direction, “Mm-mmm, motherfucker! No! I cannot believe you held out on me, crushing a sister’s hopes and dreams!” I laughed slightly. He was somewhere between man and woman tonight, his short dark hair slicked back tight to his skull, makeup done to the nines. His brown eyes were lined in dark kohl in a perfect cat’s-eye and magenta shadow graced all the way to his brow bone.

  His outfit was something else. Torn skinny jeans and a Lisa Frank white kitten tee shirt hanging off one shoulder.

  “Who is that?” Ally asked me softly, her arms wrapped around my one.

  “Who am I? Who am I?” Pasquale tossed back his head and snapped out a fan, waving it at himself in full airs-and-graces. I laughed. Everyone was lightly laughing and chuckling. It just was who he was and he didn't pay us any mind about it either. A born entertainer, that one.

  “Restroom is back that way on the other side of the restaurant. Do your thing and hurry back here. What do you want to drink?” I asked Ally.

  “Something girly, something fruity,” she said blushing faintly, trying to read Pasquale, to see if she had actually offended him.

  “On it,” I murmured and kissed her lips, lightly, mine coming away tacky with gloss. She could fix it.

  “Okay, Yale. Who is miss Little Bo Peep? Who, on god’s green earth, could steal one of my most handsome men away from me?”

  More laughter, a bunch of the Knights hanging their heads and fighting off semi-uncomfortable blushes at Pasquale’s penchant for collecting us all like fucking Pokémon or something.

  “Seriously, short dark and handsome, dish. I have got to know.” Pasquale fixed me with a look that said he would not be denied, and laughing, I stepped up to the table.

  “She is beauty, she is grace, now put that in your fucking face,” I said with a wink. “Seriously, talk to her yourself and figure it out. She’s a fantastic girl and I couldn’t do her justice to explain it, nor do I need to talk behind her back.”

  “All right, all right, rich boy. I’ll put the claws away… for now.”

  “Man you need to be quittin’ with those hormones you been takin’ or some shit,” Oz muttered, and Pasquale rounded on him, shoulders back, hand poised, eyebrow raised.

  “Oh, the drag queen make you uncomfortable, Milk Chocolate?” he asked and Oz started cracking up.

  “Hey, he’s Mexican chocolate, man. Get it right,” Golden declared. “Got some cinnamon in there.”

  “I know that’s right,” Oz declared. “This chocolate goes into milk, not the other way around, homeboy.”

  Oz reached out and clapped hands with Golden and they laughed while Blaze shook his head and said, “You racist, homophobic, motherfuckers.”

  Oz made a tsking sound, “Man how many times I gotta tell you? I ain’t racist; I got a color TV at home same as you.”

  “Okay, what the fuck?” Pasquale asked as the whole table busted up laughing around him.

  “I notice you ain’t deny the homophobia,” Backdraft said taking a sip of his beer.

  “It’s in a man’s nature to fear what he can’t understand,” Oz said philosophically, adding, “I’m tryin’ to, though.”

  “Well I, for one, am not offended by any of y’all and am happy to call you friends,” Pasquale said raising his glass.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Youngblood declared, and glasses rang all around as Ally returned, smoothly tucking herself under my arm and into my side.

  “What are we toasting to?” she asked.

  “To comfort in friendship and not being offended by every-motherfucking-thing,” Pasquale interjected before anyone else could say anything. “Except,” he declared, “The fact you stole my favorite fuckin’ man, now why you gotta destroy my hopes and dreams like that, sugar? You seem like such a nice girl and I really hate to have to hate you!”

  Ally laughed and looked at me, “I don’t know,” she said softly, “We just sort of… fit.”

  “D’awwwww!” Golden declared, and there was more laughter and cutting up around the table.

  I had slid up onto one of the stools and Ally leaned back against me, fitting easily between my knees, her head against my sternum thanks to the changes in height. No one either noticed or cared when my hand slipped inside the neckline of her
shirt-dress to cup one of her breasts. Of course, there were so many broad shoulders and backs between us and the rest of the restaurant I somehow doubted anyone would notice.

  “So, what do you do?” Blaze asked her and she smiled.

  “Ally works at the café Yale and I get our coffee at across from the DA’s office,” Chrissy said and Ally nodded.

  “Nice, how long you been doing that?”

  I listened to my brothers in the club make small talk with my girl and watched, making my small remarks here and there. I know I probably seemed aloof and removed, but I wanted to see how things would go and if they would accept her. So far, so good, but I needn’t worry about it. Not really. Ally was an exceptional woman in that she was both sweet and personable. She laughed easily and cuddled back into me as we sipped drinks and waited for our food.

  “Dude, are you even listening to me?” Golden’s sharp accusation caused Ally and I to turn at the same time where the Hispanic brother was frowning at Backdraft. We followed Backdraft’s gaze with interest to a nearby two-person booth, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. Golden scowled and asked the firefighter, “Did that dude just say what I think he said?”

  “Uh-oh, looks like Backdraft’s putting out a different sort of fire,” Pasquale remarked and suddenly became very interested in the bottom of his glass.

  “What is it?” I asked Ally when she shifted in my grasp.

  “I could swear I know that woman from somewhere,” she said.

  “The table Backdraft is at?”

  “Yeah. I recognize her, I just don’t know where from, and it won’t come to me.”

  “Hmm,” I murmured, but then our food arrived, and we turned to rejoin the smattering of other conversation and to eat.

  “Yo, Backdraft! Seriously?” Golden held out his hands and I looked over. He was standing at the table the couple had been seated at, the woman behind him and the man, looking irritated, in front of him. The woman’s fingers were laced with Backdraft’s and he was about to follow her to the front door.

  “Later!” Backdraft barked and he gave her hand a light tug in the direction of the door, indicating she should precede him out.

  The man she’d been with pulled a money clip out of his pocket and hurriedly peeled off some bills, leaving them on the table. I swept my gaze ahead of him and out the door while he scrambled to get out there with his girlfriend. Ally was watching the exchange just as intently as I was.

  “I feel so bad for her,” she said, cuddling back into me as we watched the girl and Backdraft stalk around the corner, the guy she’d been with trailing after them like a lost puppy. I knew he wouldn’t do something so drastic without just cause so I wasn’t worried about the why of it. However, I was concerned for his safety. How many domestic disturbance cases had I prosecuted in this city where bystanders with good intentions had tried to help? Where those same bystanders had been injured because of it? Too many, but this was Backdraft, and though he wasn’t law enforcement, he trained with the rest of us.

  Hell, I may be law enforcement but I wasn’t front lines by any means. I could handle myself and Backdraft was a hell of a lot more imposing that I would ever be. He was physically fit and intimidating to an extreme.

  “I wouldn’t worry,” I told Ally. “Backdraft can handle himself.”

  “I still swear I know her from somewhere,” she said and I could tell it was bothering her.

  “The café?” I asked, and she frowned.

  “No. Someplace else. I seriously can’t place it and it’s driving me nuts.” I chuckled and kissed her behind her ear to the music of her contented sigh.

  “It will come to you eventually, Bright Eyes.”

  “I hope so. I hate it when this happens.”

  I smiled, we finished our food, we talked and played darts and I was rather taken by how seamlessly she fit with everyone. Even though, to hear him say it, she crushed Pasquale’s hopes and dreams and irreparably broke his heart, by the end of the evening even he admitted he liked her and I should keep her.

  “Stay with me tonight,” I growled into her ear as things were winding down and the lot of us were beginning to go our separate ways.

  She sighed unhappily and turned, putting her arms around my neck, looking into my eyes with regret clouding her own. Disappointment flared in my chest before she even had the chance to say ‘no.’

  “I wish I could, but I promised Dawnie I would take her to the library for the blind and I have to make my grandmother and me dessert for our Sunday dinner.”

  “I understand,” I said gently and though the disappointment was there, I did get it. I stroked a thumb along her cheek and she smiled at the little touch.

  “I really wish I could, and I would invite you to stay with me but everyone knows who you are and I don’t know that it would be a good idea – for you or for me.”

  “It’s a valid concern, Bright Eyes, and a pretty well-founded one.” I kissed her forehead. “I’ll drop you off and maybe we can plan for sometime next week?”

  “I like the sound of that,” she said softly.

  “Oh, puh-leeze! I am going to take it back that I like you, sweetheart, if you’re gonna rub it in like this.”

  Ally smiled and turned to Pasquale and said, “My deepest apologies, but you know, I might be willing to share…”

  “Oh, Lord…” Oz muttered, and I echoed the sentiment. I shot a wink in his direction and he grinned back. None of us minded playing along with Pasquale’s feigned infatuation. It was, after all, all in good fun.

  28

  Ally…

  The late summer heat blurred into temperate fall days and by mid-September, it was all about jeans, boots, and my-very-favorite-sweater weather. Today was no exception. The sky was leaden out there, the clouds pregnant with rain that just refused to fall and it was humid in the café as a result. Steam gathered against the windows in drifts, and it just made the shop cozier.

  I swept out front of the counter while Dawnie sat at one of the window tables soaking up light she couldn’t see, crocheting on a project she could only feel. Meanwhile, Millie was behind the counter, wiping things down. We were all in a light mood, the café empty for now, between the morning and afternoon rushes, the conversation loose and flowing from one topic to another, but inevitably drifting back to their favorite, mostly because of how it made me blush and stammer.

  “So, how are things going with Damien Parnell?” Millie asked.

  “Don’t bother,” Dawnie said, looping yarn over her hook and pulling it through. “If she won’t share any of the good stuff with me, she won’t share with anyone else.” Her smile beneath her round hippie sunglasses took any sting out of what she said, as did her light tone. I had shared a few details. Just enough to keep her happy and so she’d understand why Damien and I were so private about our relationship. With a little explanation of our point of view, she’d understood just how misunderstood we could be, how damaging it could be to Damien’s career if it ever got out.

  “Hey, not fair!” I declared in Dawnie’s direction anyway. To Millie, I said, “Really well. We’re taking things slowly and carefully.” My phone buzzed in my apron pocket, ringing. I checked it, didn’t recognize the number, so I declined the call. They could speak to my voicemail, and I would get back to them as long as they weren’t selling anything or trying to collect a bill I had no money for.

  “He’s always been such a mysterious sort,” Millie commented lightly. “What’s he really like?”

  I smiled and dragged the broom across the tiny blue and white octagonal tiles of the café’s floor. Sighing lightly, I said, “Well, he can be bossy, but in a good way. He’s kind, very intent on my safety.” I rolled my eyes at that last one. If anything he could be a little too over-protective, but nothing I couldn’t fend off with a gentle reminder that I had taken care of myself thus far.

  Millie made a happy, dreamy sort of noise and leaned on the counter, “If I were twenty years younger…” she said
wistfully.

  “Millie!” Dawnie cried. “That’s her boyfriend.”

  “What? I’m getting older, I’m not dead!” she declared, and we laughed. My phone began buzzing in my pocket, the same number, but seeing as they hadn’t left a voicemail after the first call, I hit ignore again. I was working; I could call it back on my break.

  “You’re making it hard to live vicariously through you, Ally Cat,” Millie said, and Dawnie laughed, a mocking bray.

  “Oh, ho, ho! Don’t I know it?” she asked, and I rolled my eyes.

  “What on earth could I tell you, to assuage your curiosity?” I asked, and that was a mistake. There was a deep, pregnant pause between the three of us, and Millie and Dawnie burst out laughing while I blushed deeply and said, “Um, no… pick something else; anything else.” My sex life with Damien was ‒so‒ not up for discussion in the café.

  Millie gave a mock long-suffering sigh and said, “Fine, what did you guys do last weekend?”

  “Oh, we didn’t do much,” I said, carefully. “Stayed in on Friday night and watched a movie. On Saturday, he went thrift shopping with me.”

  “He willingly went shopping with you? That’s a keeper,” Millie declared, and I smiled.

  “What movie?” Dawnie asked, innocently, ferreting out my small white lie.

  I didn’t bother glaring at her because she wouldn’t see it but I was sure she picked up on my displeasure all the same, by way of my frosty tone when I said, “Some action thing, I fell asleep so I don’t really remember.” Of course, that was even more of a lie. I had spent my last Friday evening tied to Damien’s bed, blindfolded, while he’d spent hours titillating me with a variety of sensations. Hot, cold, sharp, and soft. His lips against my skin, his fingertips trailing along my body as he used it as his own personal playground. I had to press my thighs tighter together just thinking about it.

  My daydreaming about it was interrupted by my phone buzzing in my apron pocket again. Dawnie tilted her chin down and one ear up, cocking her head to the side, which was basically her version of rolling her eyes.