[MGW] 128 - Elevator
Nov. 25th, 2008 03:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elementof_riskThe First
The doors were almost closing, and he supposed he could have waited for the next one, but that would have involved, well, waiting, and there would be enough of that later. With a bit of force he inserted his briefcase between the doors of the elevator and then shot the young woman inside a smile as he followed the case in. He gave the other occupant a glance, then a second. She was lovely. Not that he should be bothering to look, given that he was here to work, not for pleasure, but the job really shouldn't take that long, and she was really exceptional. Unfortunately, she did not look overly impressed with him, giving him a prim sort of look out of the corner of her eyes under glasses that screamed naughty librarian and caused him to smirk as he let his eyes drop to her nametag.
"So Lydia, you here on business?" He kept the American accent with ease, though it really did grate on his ears.
"Yes." Did she sound slightly annoyed? "The geek conference." Ah.
He winced playfully and gave her a charmingly boyish and somewhat awkward smile, hoping it would help. "You heard that, huh?"
It didn't seem to. "I did."
The doors opened and Lydia stepped out. His floor as well, and with a wry sort of smile, Sark followed her, trailing a bit behind, admiring the view. She could be as prim and proper and annoyed as she pleased; if she was going to wear skirts like that with legs like that, he was going to enjoy for as long as he could. When she paused by a room, he glanced at the number, then held back a laugh and bit his lower lip, as he pulled out his key, glancing at the room across from hers--his.
"What are the odds, huh?"
Lydia looked even less impressed, and with a resigned shrug Sark slid his keycard smoothly in the door and let himself into the room. He had work to do.
The Second
His hand held the cold metal back, the other gesturing for her with a small smile that she returned as she stepped inside. He followed, allowing himself the luxury of standing closer to her, and the slight smugness of a touch of triumph that she didn't move away from him. Instead, they both seemed to move together, reaching to press the button for their mutual floor, and her skin was warm when his brushed over it. Allowing the touch to linger for a moment, he gave her a smile, then pulled back, wondering just how much more she would allow, and if she felt the same delicious tension coiling through her that he did. The job was done, for the most part. All he had to do now was wait for Basarov’s transmission to come through, then send it on. Until then...he was free. And she had done what she'd come to do. And the night was still young.
He contemplated the possibilities down the hall until they lingered outside their doors, and she smiled that beautiful smile at him.
"So, um… thank you for keeping me company." Her accent really was a lovely touch of a place as near to home as he was ever like to have.
"It was my pleasure." And, surprisingly? As banal as bar chit chat could be, it really had been. He hadn't smiled so much in one night in a very long time. He took a chance, leaning in to kiss her, very briefly, testing the waters, then withdrew, holding her gaze, wondering at the expression there.
"Good night." Not what he wanted to hear, but she didn't really sound certain.
"Good night." He made to move back, but then she was moving forward and so did she, and the kiss this time was far more than brief, and far more than friendly, and her hand was in his hair and his tangled in hers and he could taste the vodka and juice from her drink mingling with the beer he'd consumed in his guise as an American on his tongue and underneath it something else that was just her, something new and different. He backed her up toward her door, because making out in hotel hallways really only led to one thing, and he was terribly pleased she was thinking the same thing he was.
"Do you have your key?"
"Oh, no, we can’t go in my room. There are clothes all over the place. Can’t we go to yours?" She backed him back across the hall toward his door, appealing look in her blue eyes, and he wanted to tell her that he didn't mind her clothes all over the place.
"Please?" She looked even more appealingly up at him.
He hesitated, running over his room in his mind. The laptop was closed and password protected. His passport was in the name Bob Brown and didn't have his final destination. His PDA was also encrypted, nothing she could hack that he wouldn't catch....her lips moved to his ear.
Her whisper sent a shiver run down his spine, "Please."
Kissing her again, he felt the last of his reservations fall away. There wasn't anything in there that she could use against him, and gods, but he wanted her. "What the hell."
He slipped the key card into the door, and pulled Lydia into the room with him, kissing her again and already tugging at her clothes as he let the door fall shut behind them. What could possibly go wrong?
The doors were almost closing, and he supposed he could have waited for the next one, but that would have involved, well, waiting, and there would be enough of that later. With a bit of force he inserted his briefcase between the doors of the elevator and then shot the young woman inside a smile as he followed the case in. He gave the other occupant a glance, then a second. She was lovely. Not that he should be bothering to look, given that he was here to work, not for pleasure, but the job really shouldn't take that long, and she was really exceptional. Unfortunately, she did not look overly impressed with him, giving him a prim sort of look out of the corner of her eyes under glasses that screamed naughty librarian and caused him to smirk as he let his eyes drop to her nametag.
"So Lydia, you here on business?" He kept the American accent with ease, though it really did grate on his ears.
"Yes." Did she sound slightly annoyed? "The geek conference." Ah.
He winced playfully and gave her a charmingly boyish and somewhat awkward smile, hoping it would help. "You heard that, huh?"
It didn't seem to. "I did."
The doors opened and Lydia stepped out. His floor as well, and with a wry sort of smile, Sark followed her, trailing a bit behind, admiring the view. She could be as prim and proper and annoyed as she pleased; if she was going to wear skirts like that with legs like that, he was going to enjoy for as long as he could. When she paused by a room, he glanced at the number, then held back a laugh and bit his lower lip, as he pulled out his key, glancing at the room across from hers--his.
"What are the odds, huh?"
Lydia looked even less impressed, and with a resigned shrug Sark slid his keycard smoothly in the door and let himself into the room. He had work to do.
The Second
His hand held the cold metal back, the other gesturing for her with a small smile that she returned as she stepped inside. He followed, allowing himself the luxury of standing closer to her, and the slight smugness of a touch of triumph that she didn't move away from him. Instead, they both seemed to move together, reaching to press the button for their mutual floor, and her skin was warm when his brushed over it. Allowing the touch to linger for a moment, he gave her a smile, then pulled back, wondering just how much more she would allow, and if she felt the same delicious tension coiling through her that he did. The job was done, for the most part. All he had to do now was wait for Basarov’s transmission to come through, then send it on. Until then...he was free. And she had done what she'd come to do. And the night was still young.
He contemplated the possibilities down the hall until they lingered outside their doors, and she smiled that beautiful smile at him.
"So, um… thank you for keeping me company." Her accent really was a lovely touch of a place as near to home as he was ever like to have.
"It was my pleasure." And, surprisingly? As banal as bar chit chat could be, it really had been. He hadn't smiled so much in one night in a very long time. He took a chance, leaning in to kiss her, very briefly, testing the waters, then withdrew, holding her gaze, wondering at the expression there.
"Good night." Not what he wanted to hear, but she didn't really sound certain.
"Good night." He made to move back, but then she was moving forward and so did she, and the kiss this time was far more than brief, and far more than friendly, and her hand was in his hair and his tangled in hers and he could taste the vodka and juice from her drink mingling with the beer he'd consumed in his guise as an American on his tongue and underneath it something else that was just her, something new and different. He backed her up toward her door, because making out in hotel hallways really only led to one thing, and he was terribly pleased she was thinking the same thing he was.
"Do you have your key?"
"Oh, no, we can’t go in my room. There are clothes all over the place. Can’t we go to yours?" She backed him back across the hall toward his door, appealing look in her blue eyes, and he wanted to tell her that he didn't mind her clothes all over the place.
"Please?" She looked even more appealingly up at him.
He hesitated, running over his room in his mind. The laptop was closed and password protected. His passport was in the name Bob Brown and didn't have his final destination. His PDA was also encrypted, nothing she could hack that he wouldn't catch....her lips moved to his ear.
Her whisper sent a shiver run down his spine, "Please."
Kissing her again, he felt the last of his reservations fall away. There wasn't anything in there that she could use against him, and gods, but he wanted her. "What the hell."
He slipped the key card into the door, and pulled Lydia into the room with him, kissing her again and already tugging at her clothes as he let the door fall shut behind them. What could possibly go wrong?
