Tracy

040:

The fire in her room had been built too hot, or else she was still overheated from the evening.

She threw herself back on her bed and hugged her arms over her chest. The outfit Richard had bought her--- the cream lace now stretched tightly over her ribcage, the lace fallen to her hips as she kicked her moccasin covered feet in the air to untie the laces--- was perfect. No outfit had ever been as perfect. It was her, elegant--- and leather. Like the Stevie Nicks and Don Henley song she admired. Leather and Lace. Man, she loved that song, and yes, she loved the outfit.

She felt like a girl. A teenager--- a college girl.

For once in her life, she simply felt free.

Even the ocean had not given her this side of herself.

She tossed the moccasins across the room and unclasped the fringed belt, to toss it alongside them. The dress, now released from restraints loosened the scooped neck and she ran her hands down her sides, retracing forbidden touches-- remembering.

They'd danced--- all three, oddly enough, together. Line dancing was popular, disco and rock and roll. Austin was certainly enthusiastic, and quite athletic, and could stomp and posture with the best. But Richard was a dancer--- he'd admitted his early training. There was nothing like dancing with him.

She sat up.

Water---

I need water.

There was the little sink near her bathroom, but it didn't have ice, and if she didn't cool down, she'd have to go out in the snow. In bare feet, she padded up the stairs, the light on over the stove, and the place was silent. The tiles felt cooler, but not cool enough.

She filled a glass with ice and added the water, leaning against the sink as she sipped. Yeah, tonight had been exquisite. She'd never, never had so much fun dancing. No image to uphold, no reporters or paparazzi to impress, no gig impending, no Casey.

Her eyes slid to Richard's bedroom door. No tell-tale light under the crack, but she knew he'd be awake. It hadn't been an hour since they'd got home. The digital clock on the microwave read 2:45.

She set the glass down and tiptoed across the hallway, clearly visible in the reflected lights off the slopes, even though it was one thick impenetrable cloud, it glowed. And Austin always kept the curtains and blinds open for their view.

She stood outside his door, listened at the wood and heard the faint sounds of music.

Should she disturb him? He was awake, she was sure. She just wanted to thank him again. His idea had been unwanted, and unnecessary, but so ideal. Her lace swayed against her legs to attest to that fact. She turned the handle, pushed the door open just slightly and peeked inside. If he slept nude, she didn't want to know.

She couldn't see. There was light, but it was too dim. His room faced the slopes as well, but it was obvious he had the blinds at least partially drawn. She smelled an odd scent, sweat? Lotion?

The door creaked as she breathed on it, and it glided open.

Richard's eyes met hers. They weren't in shadow--- she could see him clearly in the mirror reflection from his closet and the bathroom, and the mirror in his lap as he sniffed his line.

And he was naked.

A queer shiver raced through her. She'd been in the room when Jules and Casey did cocaine years ago, and had caught Jules as recently as one year ago. Casey in the car over a month. But she hadn't expected to see Richard--the sight was bizarre to say the least. Her breath caught, not in a gasp, which would have been condemning, and she didn't want to be that. But in realization.

"Shit."

Was that his voice or hers? She reached for the doorknob as Richard scattered his accoutrements all over his bed.

"No."

He was making that scramble--to cover himself or to get to the door? She whirled around, looking for a place to go. She felt a funny bubble clog her throat, a sharp crack of breath. He caught her arm as she hesitated.

"Trace--."

"No!" She tried to jerk away but he forced his arms around her, drawing her back to his front--a huge mistake--she groaned feeling his arousal. Oh, God--

"Hey, sorry, I thought you were asleep."

"Let me go!"

"Don't leave." He didn't loosen his hold, but kept both her arms tightly pinned to her own chest.

"Richard, I don't want to be here--- I mean, go back to--oh shit."

He waited till she'd stilled, and then eased up his strangle-hold.

"Are you still unclothed?"

"Yeah, unashamedly I might add. But too much for your moral little eyes to behold, I'm sure."

"I wasn't coming to you for that." She hissed, struggling, not hard enough to get away or cause a hallway disturbance, where Austin might get involved.

"I wasn't offering it to you."

She sagged momentarily in exasperation, and then resumed her struggles going from embarrassed, and annoyed, to enraged.

"You're here, though." His voice in her ear was so familiar now. Sending the kind of shivers she didn't want to acknowledge. "What did you want?"

"Never mind. Seriously, Richard. What I have to say, I can say when you're fully clothed, not high and not---- ." She didn't know how to say ready for sex, so she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pry his fingers loose.

He seriously laced his fingers with hers, easing up even more on her. "I want you to say it now."

She shook her head. "I can't."

He chuckled. "Why not?"

She pried his fingers loose, ran a few steps and then turned and covering her eyes, faced him. "This isn't a memory I want with you."

He laughed outright, standing there buck naked, completely aroused and with a complete lack of modesty. His eyes were now in the shadow that hadn't shielded him before.

"Please go get dressed." She pleaded, knowing her face was hot, not from a build, but from a blush. "Please, Richard."

He turned and sauntered back into the bedroom, wiggling his hips, knowing she was watching.

As soon as he disappeared, she flew down the steps, as fast as her feet could carry her. She ran across the carpet soundlessly, shut her bedroom door and locked it in one deft move. Leaning against it, she closed her eyes and tried really hard to think of 'It's a Small World' at Disneyland.

*****