Title: Testing The Boundaries

Author: Tracy

(hmtomcat@hotmail.com)

Rating: NC-17

Classification: F/F Slash (Mac/Harriet)

Summary: Mac and Harriet find comfort with each other when Harriet and Bud are having problems and after Mac's breakup with Dalton. This takes place in the third season right after the episode 'Chains of Command', the same night as the bar scene at the end.

Spoilers: Chains of Command mostly, with slight ones for Full Engagement

Disclaimers: I think you all have figured out by now that they are not mine.

Archiving: Definitely, please ask me first on this one due to the subject matter. It can be found at my website at http://dresswhites.server101.com/protect/testing.htm You must have my NC-17 username and password to access the story.

Author's Notes: I've been tossing the idea of a Mac/Harriet fic back and forth in my head for a while and decided to write one after someone asked about Mac/Harriet smut on one of the lists I'm on. This is my first time writing slash and is one of two stories I've had in my head for a while (the other being a Harm/Clay piece). I figured this one would be easier to write first time out of the gate. And I know I promised this a few days ago, but the story kind of got away from me and evolved from what I originally envisioned. Please let me know what you think.


TESTING THE BOUNDARIES
By Tracy
~*~*~*~

I'm at something of a loss about what to do with myself now that I'm home after making sure Harm and Bud both got home safely. Sitting in McMurphy's with the two of them, sharing our sorrows, it was easier not to let what happened with Dalton get me down. Not that I'm sorry Dalton's gone - okay, maybe I am a little. I nearly gave up everything that means anything to me for him. I guess that's why his betrayal hurts so much. He isn't worth the sacrifices I made for him.

Maybe I should watch a movie - one of those sappy romances that I usually can't stand, but which should provide a good distraction as I laugh about how sugary sweet it is. Or maybe an old horror film, where I can snicker about how fake the blood and gore is. And maybe a batch of gooey, chocolaty brownies that will put me into sugar shock. Anything that will make me forget for a few hours about how badly I screwed up by trusting the wrong person.

Satisfied with my plans, I'm about to head into the kitchen to check if I have the ingredients to make brownies when someone knocks at the door. I know it's not Harm or Bud - although they're not falling down drunk, I did threaten both of them with bodily harm if either of them got behind the wheel of a car anytime tonight. Bud wasn't quite sure whether or not I was joking, but Harm knows enough about my background to know that I was very serious. I would hope Dalton wouldn't be stupid enough to come over here after what he pulled, but that's probably who it is since he doesn't think he did anything wrong. Bracing myself, I glance through the peephole, stepping back in surprise when I see Harriet standing on the other side of the door.

I open the door with a smile and motion her in. It's always good to see Harriet, even if it's a little puzzling that she'd just show up at my apartment. Has she ever been here before? Thinking back over the year and a half I've lived here, I'm pretty sure Harm's the only coworker who's dropped by. Everyone else I know, when I see them outside of work, it's always been somewhere else. "What can I do for you, Harriet?" I ask as I close the door behind her.

I turn around to find Harriet staring at the door with an uncertain expression on her face, as if she's not sure why she came here. I think I know what this is about, judging by Bud's forlorn expression at McMurphy's, but I'm not going to push her. I don't really want to. I'm not really good at relationship counseling - just look at my own messed up love life - and I don't think this is going to be as simple as just engineering things so that Bud and Harriet dance together at a ball. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Ma'am .. " she begins nervously.

"First, Harriet," I say, curling up at one end of the couch and patting the cushion beside me, "You're in my home and I'm not in uniform. It's okay to call me Mac." She hesitates a moment, then sits down, still looking a bit uncomfortable. "Second, you're not disturbing me. I was just trying to decide what kind of movie would provide a good diversion and how much chocolate it would take to put me into a coma." She shoots me a puzzled look and I add, "Dalton and I aren't seeing each other anymore."

"I'm sorry, Ma'a .. Mac," she says. "I thought you two seemed okay, in spite of the Master Chief's case."

"I thought we were, too," I say, hesitating on the rest. From what I've seen and heard the last few days, Bud blames Harriet for leaking the information that Dalton threatened to go to the media with. I'm not sure if it will help or hurt for her to know that it's really my fault. After debating with myself for a moment, I decide that she deserves the truth. "The information that Dalton threatened to go public with - he copied it out of some files on my desk." I motion towards my desk on the other side of the room. "He came over offering to take me out to dinner the night before his press conference and while I was changing, he went through my files on the case."

She looks stunned for a moment, then blurts out, her eyes flashing with anger, "Why do men have to be such .. idiots? Bud just assumed that because I was working with him, I was the one who gave Mr. Lowne those names. He didn't even give me the chance to protest. And how could Mr. Lowne betray you like that?"

"I wish I knew," I say, shaking my head. If I could figure that one out, maybe I would have seen this coming. "When I figured out how Dalton had gotten the names, I confronted him and he acted like it was no big deal. He thought I should just forgive and forget. No, that's not quite right. I thought I should just forget about it because there was nothing to forgive."

"I don't want to forgive and forget right now," she says angrily. "If he won't even talk to me, give me a chance to tell my side .." I consider telling Harriet that Bud does feel bad about what happened between them, but that wouldn't be the entire truth. He still seems to think she did it. He appears to just feel bad that he placed his trust in the wrong person. I think Harm suspects what really happened - he's never thought very highly of Dalton and he's probably clearheaded enough to realize that Harriet wouldn't have done it. I'm mildly surprised that he hasn't said anything, but maybe he just doesn't want to make me feel any worse. He really seemed to be restraining himself when I told him tonight that Dalton is gone for good.

Deciding that it will be better if I don't say anything on that subject right now, I offer instead, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," she admits with a shrug. "I was just getting tired of staring at my apartment walls. I guess I just needed some company and you are one of my closest friends .. we are friends, aren't we?"

"Of course," I say, touched that she would come to me like this, even as it bothers me a little that she would even have to ask that question. But maybe that's my fault. I've never had a lot of women friends - or a lot of friends of either sex. When I was younger, the people I hung with were drinking buddies. They weren't the kind of people I'd share confidences with unless I was too drunk to keep my mouth shut. Once I turned my life around and became focused on first becoming a Marine, then a lawyer, I was *very* focused on that, often to the exclusion of personal relationships. I still haven't figured out what it is about my co-workers at JAG that makes it so easy to build relationships with them. Whatever it is leads to the next words that come out of my mouth. "I could use the company, too. How do you feel about watching a movie or two and eating ourselves into oblivion together?"

She manages a laugh as she replies, "Sounds good me to, Mac." She shoots me a grateful look and I begin to feel better. Sharing my misery with Harm and Bud was okay, but maybe there's some things that only another woman can understand.


~*~*~*~

After a stop at the grocery store for ingredients for the brownies I want to make - I don't cook much, so my cabinets are woefully bare of what I need - we head to a video store a few blocks from my apartment. "How about this one?" Harriet asks, holding up a box. I stifle a groan as I make out the title.

"I get enough of arrogant flyboys at work," I say with a laugh, shaking my head.

"I don't care about that," she says with a laugh as she puts the movie back on the shelf. "I was thinking about all the cute guys. Remember the volleyball scene? Yum."

"Just what I need," I mutter, just loud enough that she can hear. "More cute guys."

"Mac .." she says, sounding like someone who's discovered the most fascinating information. I think I know where this is heading. "Are you attracted to Commander Rabb?"

"Where did you come up with that? Anyway, Harm's with Annie," I remind her, although I know they're having problems as well. But I'm not about to touch the subject of Harm with a ten-foot pole, not even with myself. I'm still not sure what's going on there myself and I'm not sure I can handle knowing.

"So?" she says, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Doesn't mean you can't look or think about it."

"I've had it with men right now," I declare firmly. "They're nothing but trouble." And I figure Harm would be more trouble than most. But she's right. Doesn't mean I can't look .. or think. I've definitely done a lot of that. But it's still more trouble than I need.

Her expression falls a little as she agrees, "Unfortunately, I'm there with you. I don't know why it can't be simple."

"It doesn't work that way," I say, pretending to look over a shelf of movies. Most of my uncomplicated relationships were that way only because I was too drunk to worry about making them too complex. Since I have no desire to go back to those days, I guess it's time to swear off relationships for a while until I can deal with the complexities. I just won't hold my breath waiting for that to happen.

"Why can't we make it that way?" she asks. "I had this relationship in college. It was my third semester and I was still, um, testing the boundaries, I guess." She looks away as she says that, her cheeks flushing slightly, and I wonder just how far she went in testing those boundaries. I have a hard time imagining sweet Harriet as a wild child. "I'd had a relationship my first year which had ended badly and met someone pretty much in the same situation. I guess it started out with us comforting each other. We weren't really serious - we just had a lot of fun together in and out of bed. It ended when the other person graduated the end of that year."

"Doesn't sound like any relationship I've ever had," I laugh. I guess my early relationships were fun - if you call being falling down drunk fun. But my most serious relationships since then - well, I guess I've always had too much stuff hanging over my head to really let myself enjoy being in a relationship.

She looks thoughtful for a moment, but before I can ask what she's thinking about, she shakes her head. "It's nothing," she says in response to my unspoken question. She selects a movie from another shelf and holds it out for my inspection. "How about the ultimate chick flick - 'Thelma and Louise'?"

"I've never seen this before," I say, taking the box from her and reading the description on the back. Where was I in 1991 when this came out? Busy making a career for myself in the Marines. Always busy. That's been the story of my life post-drying out.

"They're best friends and they go on the run after Louise kills a guy who tried to rape Thelma at a bar," Harriet explains.

"This is what's considered a chick flick?" I ask in amazement. Maybe there's a reason why I've never seen this movie ..

"It mostly centers around the close friendship and camaraderie between the two," she clarifies. "They'd do anything for each other. That's why they went on the run. Louise had been in trouble with the law before and no one witnessed the attempted rape, so they didn't think anyone would believe their story. Plus, it's got a young Brad Pitt. I think it was his first movie role."

I'm still not quite sure about the merits of this movie, but nod in agreement anyway. "What about you?" Harriet asks, looking over my shoulder at the selections on the shelf in front of me. For some reason I can't explain, it startles me. Maybe I just didn't realize that she had moved to stand behind me. I guess I'm just not used to people invading my personal space like that. That has to be it. "Got a movie you really want to see?"

I frown thoughtfully as I consider the question. This evening isn't turning out quite like I had planned, from the company to the choice of movies. "Well, we could go with 'Top Gun' just for all the cute guys," I suggest with a shrug. Still not my first choice, but maybe it's time to just go with the flow and do something spontaneous.

"If you sure .." she begins uncertainly. I nod and she picks the movie up off the shelf again. She brightens and adds, "Unless there's something else you want to see, this and a chocolate brownie overdose should be enough to guarantee a few hours of fun."

"Sure," I say, not entirely convinced. Harriet laughs and nudges me with her shoulder as she walks by me, nearly causing me to jump in surprise. "With all due respect, Ma'am, even Marines are allowed to have fun once in a while." She glances back over her shoulder at me as she walks up to the checkout, still smiling.

That's strange, I think, rubbing my shoulder thoughtfully as I slowly follow her to the front of the store. I could have sworn .. but it has to be my imagination. I haven't even had thoughts like that since I was young and drunk and didn't care who .. Get a grip, Mackenzie, I order myself, trying to banish the thought. This is Harriet, one of your best friends, who'd probably die of shock if she could read the thought that just crossed your mind. Not to mention everything else that needs to be considered.

I reach the counter to find Harriet watching me with concern. "Are you okay, Mac?" she asks, her gaze remaining fixed on me as she passed the clerk some money for the movies.

I force what I hope is a convincing smile and nod. "I'm fine," I reply, hoping I sound relaxed and unconcerned.

She stares at me for a long moment, her gaze seeming to bore straight through me. I want to look away, but force myself to return the look unflinchingly. She looks like she's about to say something, but before she can, the clerk interrupts, handing her back her change and instructing her to step around the counter and through the security barrier to pick up the movies. As we walk out of the store, I inwardly breathe a sigh of relief that she seems to have dropped the subject, because I sure as hell don't think I can - or want to - explain this.


~*~*~*~

"Where did you get this recipe?" Harriet asks, laughing as she reads over the index card on which is written my favorite brownie recipe. "These instructions don't make any sense."

"They make sense to me," I counter, grabbing the card from her so I can read the next step. "I wrote them down exactly as they were told to me by my Uncle Matt's wife Kathleen, who was one of the best cooks. Every year she would send me a huge box of cookies and brownies and fudge at Christmas. I always looked forward to that, especially when I was in Okinawa and later in Bosnia. Two Christmases ago, the first after she died, I would pick up the mail every day and I would be disappointed for a moment that I didn't have a package from her before I remembered that there wouldn't be one that year." It didn't help either that same Christmas was spent preparing for Uncle Matt's trial. Sometimes I wondered if it all would have happened if she'd still been alive. But then I wouldn't have come to JAG HQ and then I wouldn't have met all my friends. It's funny how life works sometimes.

"My dad's mother used to do our Christmas baking for us," she says, cocking her head to the side as she remembers. "My mother definitely does not cook and Grandmother used to say that it wasn't Christmas if I didn't get to enjoy something home baked. She died about a month after I was stationed aboard the Sea Hawk, so I know what you mean about expecting a package that would never come. Before I'd left, she'd promised that she'd send me care packages of baked goods at least once a month .. so that I wouldn't forget what real food tasted like."

She grabs a handful of walnuts from the open bag on the counter and pops a few in her mouth. "Hey," I protest, slapping her arm playfully, "we need those for the brownies. The more nuts, the better."

She tosses her head back and laughs. I guess we both needed this. Things are so much more relaxed and I'm pretty sure that I was just imagining things at the video store. "I thought it was the more chocolate, the better?" she teases.

"That too," I reply with a smile, pushing her out of the way and grabbing a few walnuts myself before dumping the rest of the bag in the bowl. I turn to Harriet as I begin stirring the mixture. "Why don't you go put in one of the movies? By the time the half-hour of previews are finished, I should have this in the oven."

"'Thelma and Louise' okay?" she asks, dipping her finger in the brownie mixture. She places her chocolate-covered finger in her mouth, slowly sucking on it, and I have to turn away before my expression betrays my thoughts. What the hell am I thinking? I haven't even had thoughts like this since I was too drunk to care. But I'm not drunk now, so why can't I stop thinking like this? And I'd just about had myself convinced that I was simply imagining things. Damn.

"It's fine," I murmur, pretending to take a great interest in the consistency of the batter. I find a lump in the mix and poke at it with the spoon, breaking it apart. "I'll be out there in a few minutes."

Before I realize what she's doing, she steps up behind me, leaning over my shoulder as she wraps her arms around me and gives a quick squeeze, her cheek pressed against mine. "This is a great idea. Thank you for inviting me to stay." Just as quickly, she releases me and heads into the living room, leaving me alone to contemplate the tingling feeling where her body was pressed against mine.

I set the bowl down and press my palms flat against the countertop, drawing in a ragged breath. I just have to get through this. If I ask her to leave now, she'll know for certain that something's up. So I'll just somehow make it through at least one of the movies. By then it will be getting late and I'll just claim that I'm tired from everything that's been going on. That sounds reasonable, doesn't it?


~*~*~*~

When I join Harriet in the living room twenty-eight minutes later, she's got the movie on pause and is curled up sitting sideways on the couch, one arm draped over the back. She turns and smiles at me as I approach and I swallow nervously. This is going to be harder than I thought. I pass her a bottle of water - trying not to linger as ours hands brush together, nor make it look like I'm obviously pulling away - as I sit at the other end of the couch, propping my feet up on the coffee table. "We didn't think of getting drinks when we were out," I explain as she unscrews the top and takes a sip of water, "and all I have is water."

"This is fine," she assures me, her tongue darting out to lick a drop from her upper lip. I shiver involuntarily and cross my arms over my chest as I turn my attention to the television, extremely fascinated in the pause lines going across the screen, my own water bottle still clutched in one hand. In my head, I can see this almost perfect image of the two of us, our bodies pressed together, her tongue trailing across my heated flesh just as it moved across her lip. As I try to shake myself out of it, I realize that she's calling my name. Great. Now she definitely has to realize that something's wrong. "Mac?"

"Yes?" I ask, not trusting myself to say more right now. What would I say? 'Harriet, I know this is in violation of the same UCMJ that I've sworn to uphold, but right now I can't get this idea out of my head that I want you.' Well, it wouldn't be the first time I've violated the UCMJ. But that doesn't really bother me, even though I know it should. Maybe it's easier after you've already done it once. I just can't decide if I'm more worried about considering things I haven't thought about since I was young and didn't care or losing a good friend when she realizes that I'm turned on sexually by her.

"You know, you asked me this," she says, her blue eyes carefully studying me. I almost get the feeling that she can see right through me and I have to force myself not to squirm under the scrutiny. "But I never thought to ask you, even after you said that you and Mr. Lowne were finished - are *you* okay?"

I shrug. "Maybe it's bothering me more than I thought," I say. Excuses, excuses. But maybe that is it. Perhaps it is bothering me more than I want to admit and I'm looking for an escape, any escape. People don't just starting thinking what I've been thinking about all of a sudden, without a stressor being involved .. or those feelings already being there, albeit buried. But wouldn't I have realized that one before if that were the case? "He wasn't worth all the effort I put into the relationship."

"Maybe that's the problem," she suggests, placing her hand on my shoulder in what I guess is supposed to be a comforting gesture. When did she move closer to me? Her nearness is suddenly overwhelming. I tell myself that I should push her hand away, but if I touch her, it might just be to pull her closer. "You put too much into the relationship without him putting in an equal effort in return."

Despite my nerves, it's comforting that she seems to understand that as far as my relationship with Dalton goes. "Something like that," I concur. Her eyes search mine and she opens her mouth as if she wants to say something, but then almost immediately closes it again. "Was there something else?" I wish I could take the words back because I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

"I don't know," she says softly, shaking her head. "It's .. I get the feeling there's something else on your mind."

"Like what?" I shoot back, almost a challenge. I just can't stop myself, but maybe I need her to figure it out. Then she can tell me to go to hell or something and I can work on forgetting all about this.

She quiet for what seems like forever and I wonder if she's working things out in her head, connecting the dots between the nervousness I can't quite hide and the times tonight when she's been just a little too close or has touched me in a seemingly innocent way.

As the silence drags on, I become aware that her hand is no longer just resting against my shoulder, but her fingers are moving lazily over my skin at the edge of my shirt. I just stare at her hand, wondering what it means. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her eyes following mine, but I can't read the expression on her face. Was it an unconscious gesture or does she realize exactly what she is doing? We lift our eyes at almost the same moment and as our gazes lock, I could swear that I see reflected in her eyes the same want and need that I'm feeling. I'm not sure which of us makes the first move, but one moment we're staring at each other and the next our lips are brushing together experimentally, testing the waters.

When neither of us utters one word in protest, the kiss deepens and we move closer together. The hand she had on my shoulder has moved to the back of my neck, slowly massaging the sensitive skin there, as her other hand slowly moves up and down my back, fanning the flames flickering inside me. My hands aren't idle either, one moving through her hair while the other moves down her back and over her hip, gently pulling her even closer until she's halfway sitting in my lap.

It seems to go on forever, so soft and sweet, with an underlying intensity which is almost overpowering. Eventually, we do pull apart somewhat breathlessly. Harriet rests her head against the back of the couch, her cheeks flushed pink, and says softly, her eyes sparkling, "Wow." I almost laugh - that sounds like something she would say and the familiarity is almost relaxing. I lean my head against the couch as well, our foreheads almost touching, one of my hands lazily moving over her. She clasps my hand in hers, her thumb rubbing over the palm of my hand, the electricity from that simple contact igniting a thousand nerve endings. She looks down at our joined hands, then looks back up at me. "Um .."

"It's okay, Harriet," I jump in when she seems to stumble over what to say. Not that I'm any more sure myself. "If you're not comfortable .."

"It's not like that," she says. She pauses a moment as if to collect her thoughts, then continues, almost in a whisper, "There's got to be about a thousand rules against this, but it feels .. no one would ever have to know, would they?"

"No one but us," I reply, the words out of my mouth before I can even think about it. What am I thinking contemplating violating the UCMJ without even giving a damn about the potential consequences, let alone allowing another officer to do the same? But now, knowing that Harriet's been thinking and feeling the same things I've been trying to hide tonight, I can't stop myself. I mean, who would ever know .. or even suspect? Harm and I have stayed together on several occasions - the Appalachians, the night he broke out of the brig - and no one's ever jumped to the conclusion that we're having an affair.

She moves her head fractionally, her lips about to touch mine when a buzzer sounds from the kitchen. "The brownies," I murmur as she pulls back, startled. Is it enough to bring her to her senses, to cause her to question this? I give her a quick kiss, maybe to remind her that this is something that we both want, then stand. "Let me just go and pull those out of the oven before they burn."

When I return from the kitchen, having just set the baking dish on the counter and covered it with a towel, Harriet is still on the couch, but the television is now off, the movie having turned itself off a while ago after being stuck on pause for so long. She stands as I reach her and I smile at her, still sensing a little unease from her. She smiles in return as I take her hand and lead her towards my bedroom. I ask, giving her a chance to back out, "Are you sure?"

Her eyes meet mine and she doesn't even hesitate before she answers, "I want this so much."

"So do I," I return, deciding that such unflinching honesty deserves the same in return. I sit on the edge of the bed, pulling her with me so that she's straddling my legs. We just look our fill of each other for a long moment, as if neither of us can quite believe where we are, what we are about to do. She makes the first move, nuzzling her lips against my throat as her hands pull my shirt from the waistband of my jeans and roam up and down my back. Her touch is so light and sensual, igniting a slow burning spreading inside me.

She pulls back slightly and draws my shirt over my head and tosses it away before letting her eyes travel slowly over me, as if she wants to memorize every feature. It's different - most men's gazes fall immediately either to my breasts or between my legs - but I like it. Maybe it's that women find different features attractive. Or maybe as a woman she's had her own experiences of men focusing on certain features to the exclusion of others. Whatever it is, I love the attention and it warms and arouses me even more. I almost feel like I'm being worshipped.

My breasts are the last thing she chooses to look at, her eyes flitting back and forth between them, her lips parting slightly. Then she lets her hands roam over me, her palms pressed flat against my skin, following the same path as her eyes previously had followed. By the time she cups my breasts in her hands, they're aching to be touched and I arch against her, leaning back and supporting my weight on my hands. She traces along the edge of my bra, letting her fingernails scrape gently over my skin, occasionally speeding up or slowing down her movements, as if trying to discover what kind of touch I like best based on my reactions.

Lifting her head, she gives me a long, deep kiss, her tongue sweeping into my mouth as she reaches behind me and unfastens the clasp of my bra. Her mouth moves down my neck as she pulls the straps off my shoulders and drops it off the edge of the bed. She alternates between light, butterfly kisses and tracing a path down my throat with the tip of her tongue while her hands cup my breasts, gently kneading the aching mounds as her thumbs flick across my taut nipples.

Balancing myself on one arm, I cover one of her hands with mine to guide it, showing her just how I like to be touched. She looks down, watching our hands in fascination as I arch and writhe against her. "Just like that," I gasp as she lightly tugs on my nipple in just the right way to send shockwaves coursing through me. She glances up, smiling softly at the praise and I can't resist the urge to reach up and kiss her. She's just as good with her mouth as with her hands and I tingle pleasurably at the thought of her mouth moving over me.

"You're good at that," I whisper against her mouth as we pull apart. She gives me two quick kisses then pushes me back onto the bed, causing me to gasp softly in surprise. I never imagined sweet Harriet could be so .. assertive, I guess. Then I remember what she said earlier about testing the boundaries. That's what this is, isn't it? Testing the boundaries? She slides back a little and dips her head down, circling my navel with her tongue, causing me to shiver. I was right. She is good. She moves over my stomach, lingering every so often at one spot or another as she moves up my body.

As her mouth finally closes around an aching nipple, I nearly arch off the bed as the slow burn becomes a raging inferno. I can't remember the last time I was so completely aroused that the slightly touch threatened to send me over the edge. It's almost enough to make me wish that this could last beyond here and now, but it can't. There are more consequences than either of us could deal with.

Harriet lifts her head and our eyes meet. I can see it in her eyes, too. She knows that this intense passion between us is fleeting. I open my mouth to speak, but she shakes her head, quieting me with a soft "Shhh." As she moves to my other breast, I close my eyes, resolving to concentrate only on what is happening here, on the incredible sensations she is making me feel.

As I feel her hands at the waistband of my jeans, I open my eyes and push up against her until we're sitting up. I smile, moistening my dry lips with the tip of my tongue as I reach for the top button of her blouse. "My turn," I whisper, leaning forward to press a kiss against the small patch of exposed skin. Unhurried, I undo each button in turn, then move my lips over newly revealed skin, pushing her to lie on her back as I move down to allow me easier access. As she did, I linger now and then as a catch in her breath or a soft moan alerts me to a particularly sensitive area.

She laughs lightly as I brush my lips back and forth across a spot just below her ribs on the left side, the sound turning to a moan as I swipe my tongue over the apparently ticklish spot. I find another sensitive place on one side of her throat where it meets her shoulder and linger there, lightly nipping, as I slip my hands between us, flicking open the front clasp of her bra, moaning against her throat as my breasts rub against hers.

She wraps her arms around me, hooking one leg over my hip, her moans echoing mine as our bodies move together. It's a different sensation that I'm used to, but that might make it even more arousing - the discovery of new feelings. Or maybe it's the thrill of exploring the forbidden. Whatever it is, I can't get enough of it and it seems that neither can Harriet. What are we supposed to do when this has to end?

Pushing the thought from my mind, I close my mouth around one erect nipple, teasing it harder with my tongue and teeth. She weaves her fingers through my hair, holding me against her, murmuring soft words of encouragement. "Harder .. yesss .. just like .. God .." My mouth moving to her other breast, I let one hand slide down her stomach, enjoying how she quivers beneath my touch as my fingers dance across her skin.

I slip the button at the waist of her jeans from its hole and slowly slide the zipper down. I push myself off her and sit to the side as I slide her jeans down, Harriet lifting her hips to assist me. I toss her jeans and socks away, then let one hand slowly slide back up her leg. Her breath catches as I move over the back of her knee and I hesitate there, lightly tracing circles.

I then continue up her thigh, trailing a single finger up and down her soft inner thigh. She lifts her hips, seeking, but I only move to the edge of her panties before letting my hand slide back down again. "Please .. " she gasps, pleading for release. I keep up the torturous movements for a few more moments, then hook my fingers under the waistband of her panties and pull them down her legs.

I settle on my stomach between her legs, licking my lips lightly as my eyes move over her, tentatively running a finger along her swollen folds. She's so wet and I imagine that it won't take much to bring her to climax. That both excites me in that *I'm* the one who has done this to her and saddens me in that it could possibly be over far too soon.

I part her folds and circle a finger around her swollen bud, varying the amount of pressure I apply, delighting in her gasps and moans as I find a rhythm that she likes. Dipping my head down, I tentatively flick my tongue against her clit, then circle it as I slide a finger inside her. "Oh .." she gasps, struggling for breath. Emboldened by her reaction, I withdraw my finger and thrust two inside as I draw her clit into my mouth, gently sucking on it as I thrust my fingers in and out of her.

Her body tenses against me and around me and I pull my mouth away, resting my cheek against her thigh as I ease my movements, gently stroking the walls of her sheath as I draw her back from the edge. She laughs softly between ragged breaths. "You're teasing me," she says, arching her hips against my hand.

I plant a kiss on the inside of her thigh and lift my eyes to hers. She's pulled a couple of pillows under her head and has apparently been watching me the entire time while her hands slowly move over her breasts and stomach in a tender caress. "But you like it," I counter, half statement, half question.

"Too good," she murmurs with just a trace of sadness.

Lowering my eyes, I let my lips slide down her leg and resume teasing her nub as I speed up the movement of my fingers, burying them to the hilt before pulling them back out again. In a brief moment, she climaxes with a sharp cry, her body trembling with the force of her peak. I caress her stomach and thighs with my mouth and hands as she comes down off her high, laying my head against her stomach as her tremors finally ease.

I close my eyes and feel her hand on my cheek, lightly stroking, occasionally running her fingers through my hair before moving them down to dance across my upper back. I murmur contentedly, my fingers caressing her stomach, tracing random patterns over her soft skin. "Mac?" she asks, her voice soft and full of wonder.

I prop myself up on an elbow and as I look up at her, I find the same expression in her eyes and I smile at the thought that I'm the one who did this to her. I never realized that I could find so much satisfaction in giving pleasure to someone else. It's never felt quite like this before. "Hmm?"

"Thank you," she says, blushing slightly. My mouth opens in surprise - I don't think I've ever been thanked for something like this before - and I feel my own cheeks flush.

"My pleasure," I pun.

She nibbles on her lower lip, her expression suddenly serious, then tugs on my upper arm. "Come here," she requests. I scoot up on the bed and settle in her arms, my lips meeting hers in a soft kiss. She pulls back and grasps my hand, drawing my fingers into her mouth, her tongue swirling around, licking her juices from them. She releases them with a 'pop' and lets her fingers slide up my arm to caress my shoulder.

I rest my head against her shoulder, shifting position slightly so that one of her legs is trapped between mine and I slowly rub myself against her, gasping at the shockwaves that travel through me. I'm so close and I think that she realizes as well that it won't take much to push me over the edge. She places a hand on my hips to still me, then moves around and undoes the fastening on my jeans and slides the zipper down, her hands slipping under the waistband to caress my ass.

Harriet rolls us over so that I'm on my back under her and pushes my jeans and panties off my hips. I assist her by kicking them off and she sits back on her haunches next to me, letting a hand roam up my leg. She pauses when she reaches the scar on my right leg, tracing the imperfection. I almost laugh at the attention she pays to it. "Dalton thought I should see someone about getting rid of that," I say with a snort of derision. I don't really want to contemplate the reasons why, or the person wrapped up in those reasons, but I'm kind of attached to it.

"Dalton was an idiot," she laughs. "I thought we'd already established that. There's nothing wrong with having a scar. I think it's kind of expected of a Marine to have at least one scar." She bends over me and circles the tip of her tongue around the puckered skin then proceeds to kiss her way up my thigh. I arch against her, craving her touch, but she skirts around my aching sex, trailing kisses across my stomach and down my other thigh. I can't help the plea that escapes my lips, but she simple shakes her head and continues teasing me with her hands and mouth.

Finally, I feel the gentle pressure of her fingers brushing against my slick folds and I push against her hand, but she keeps her touch light while avoiding my clit. If she touches me there, it will be all over and I'm torn between needing more and the sweet satisfying ache of release. I clutch the comforter tightly in my fingers as the burning need builds and intensifies.

I sense something wet and warm and realize that her tongue has replaced her fingers in teasing me. She pushes one finger into me then pulls it out and adds a second while her tongue continues teasing me. Then she just barely touches my clit with the tip of her tongue and I come hard, squeezing my eyes shut against the blinding haze as I shudder and quake.

When my eyes flutter open, it's to find Harriet slowly moving back up my body, her hands softly moving over me. She settles on her side next to me, tangling her legs with mine. I grasp her hand and lick them clean, then press my palm against hers, entwining our fingers as I roll onto my side to face her. For a long moment, we simply look at each other, our breathing slightly ragged, then she breaks the silence, her voice quiet and full of sadness. "It would be so easy .."

I don't have to ask what she's talking about, because it's all too obvious after what we just shared. "To turn this into more, you mean," I say with certainty.

She nods, her eyes drawn to our clasped hands. "If either of us were willing to give up our careers," she adds. "But we're not, so .. I guess eventually I have to get up and walk out of here and everything goes back to the way it was."

"Eventually .." I echo, considering. I can't believe what I'm thinking .. or maybe I can after what we just did with each other. We just made love and although I can never admit it to another soul, it was one of the best experiences of my life. She made me feel things, touched me in ways that few have or could. "What if it doesn't have to end, at least not yet?"

I can see the conflict in her eyes, the war between what we both want and what we have to do. "What do you mean?" she asks, just a hint of hope creeping into her voice.

"It's Friday," I point out, taking a deep breath. "I don't know about you, but I don't have anywhere to be this weekend. I - I want you to stay. Or you can leave if it would make you feel more comfortable. Hmmm .." I trial off, not sure what else to say. What does a person say in a situation like this.

"We spend the weekend together," she concludes, "and then we go to work on Monday and it's as if this never happened .. except for these memories that I'll have for the rest of my life."

"Me, too," I whisper, just loud enough that she hears me and she smiles sadly.

"But we knew that going in," she continues, "that this couldn't go anywhere. For that reason, my head is saying that I need to get dressed and walk out of here and make myself forget all about this." I close my eyes, preparing myself to let all of this go. "But I can't make myself do it .. not after what we just shared. So yes, I will stay and on Monday, we just have to start learning to live with going back to the way things were."

My hand at the back of her head, I pull her towards me and press my lips to hers, parting her lips with my tongue and exploring her mouth, my tongue wrestling with her, the flames sparking in me all over again. Yes, we'll have these few short days and then we have to learn to live .. with what we're shared and can never experience again.


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