Relations

When he entered the gym, everyone noticed. Who could miss such a volatile presence? Anger practically shimmered around Jack as his hunters eyes scanned the open floor. He must have dressed according to his mood that day, because he was in head to toe black as he braced his hands on his hips and honed in on his target. Everyone could only stare as the master chief advanced, the scowl of death frozen on his features. Despite a deceptively lazy gait, it was clear he was going to catch fire the instant he got what he came for.

"Sergeant Cortez," Jack's call was more like a roar, "approach!" Master Chief Urgayle planted himself and waited while the reluctant recruit obeyed.

Cortez swiftly disengaged from the martial arts class and steeled himself for what was to come. The master chief got right in his face, those pale, insane eyes boring a hole in his skull. To everyone's shock, the chief proceeded to ream Cortez out in an eerily quiet, yet hostile reprimand. His face remained a mask of wrath, but the words were spoken as if Jack were initiating a conversation in a library. Once Cortez was dismissed. Jack stayed rooted in the middle of the floor, arms still akimbo. He glanced around as if searching for another victim.

Immediately, everyone turned away, trying to pretend they hadn't noticed the man whose foul disposition had sucked all the air from the vast building. Somehow, Jack's angular jaw squared even more, the dimpled chin more prominent. He was searching for another victim. Nothing would please him more than to let loose on someone else today. But all he had to do was give it time. These fuck ups in training never ceased to disappoint his inner beast. And they all went back to their tasks, not wanting to confront his glacial ire until they had to. All, except one, wanted to avoid Jack when he got this way.

Gigi was the only soul brave enough to absorb the chill of the master chief's stare. Whatever repelled the others from him seemed to draw her in. But as they stood, locked on one another, Jack's eyes changed. From frigid, icy seas to warm gulf streams. The change wasn't long, but it was long enough for Gigi to realize that something was wrong. Jack wasn't always this way. He didn't get off on berating people, although it was part of his job. Then, as if he realized she was reading his mind, the chief closed off again, shuttered his expression, then left. He was done here, certain that he had stayed much to long.
**********************************************
"I'm not goin' fifty feet of that guy!"

"Maybe one of the tadpoles can do it."

"Do what?" Gigi came back into the gym after packing some equipment into her car. Her two training partners from the kung fu school were standing around looking like somebody pissed in their cornflakes. "Where's Lee?"

"He had to jet, " Donny, the bouncer from Philadelphia answered, tapping a manilla envelope against his muscular thigh.

"Some appointment he forgot. Left us with a little chore." Mike, the San Francisco native informed Gigi and Donny held up the envelope. "One of us has to deliver that to the Monster Chief ... like today." Mike tried to scrunch his face to show his diastase, but the Botox was working overtime. Mike was a 45 year-old model and detested his youthful competition.

Gigi had to laugh at this. "Oh, come on! You strapping studs are afraid of the chief? He really isn't that bad."

"You see that guy today?" Donny exclaimed. "Tellin' you ... if there was no eyewitnesses, Cortez...he'd be gone. Wouldn't shit be left of his rangy ass. Monster Chief woulda fucked him up! I've seen motherfuckas get that look in their eye...Shiiit! You don't fuck with them crazy bastards."

"Donny, stop!" She couldn't stop laughing. "He wasn't mad at us."

"That one is mad at the world, sweetheart." Mike added wryly, "but if you feel so secure, you can take the envelope over. Lee's changing some of the basic program. Chief has to sign off on it. Doubt he'll try to push you around. He's got about a hundred pounds and twelve inches on your frame. Wouldn't fit his manly image to beat the crap out of you, Gi."

"He's not the Incredible Hulk." Gigi glanced from Donny to Mike in amusement. "Fine, I'll take it damned envelope." She snatched it from Donny and walked away, shaking her head in disbelief. "Oh my God! You guys are really pathetic."

"Don't worry," Donny joked, "if you go missin' we'll just tell the 5-0 last time we saw you, you was goin' to see the Monster Chief. Yo, Mike...dead woman walkin' !"
**********************************************
Gigi thought of how silly Donny and Mike were being until she got to the command center to find no reception on duty. She had planned to drop the envelope off with someone to give to Jack. Now that she had to go to his office, she was a bit hesitant. His display of temper in the gym today wasn't rare. Him being really upset was rare. When the master chief rode somebody into the ground, it wasn't personal it was a requirement. Every one of his tadpoles caught some of his big, bad Master Chief Navy SEAL, salty to the bone attitude. That was work. Something else touched him today...something personal. Gigi admonished herself for wondering what it was, but the man was interesting. All that machismo he exuded and he liked poetry. He opened doors and saw that she got into the house safely. He handled a stranger in a bar for her and paid for her drink. Jack knew she hated her father.

When Gigi found the master chief's name plate, she tapped lightly on the door. She had to make her feet move when he barked for whoever it was to come in. Sharply, Jack looked up from something he was writing and stood automatically at the sight of the female. It was her identity that made him frown. What the hell was she doing in his office?

She closed the door and smiled up at him. He tried to look mad, but to her, Jack appeared more perplexed. "I know you're busy, but I just -"

"It's all right," his interruption was gentle. Jack took in her nylon running pants, loose tee shirt and sneakers. Thick hair in a french braid and no makeup. Very different from last night. "Is there something I can do for you Miss Giancarlo?"

That surprised her. "Miss Giancarlo? Are we back to that already?"

For a moment Jack didn't know what to say. 'Miss Giancarlo' just came out. But, in light of his very vivid dreams, maybe it was best this way. "I apologize, I may have been forward last night," his words came out too fast and Jack didn't look at Gigi, "you don't owe me any gratitude, in any way, for...the guy in the bar."

Gigi's mouth dropped. An apology? He may have been too forward? By using her first name? By defending her honor? "Look, that isn't why I'm here. I am thankful that someone was there to keep me from kicking that guy's ass and maybe ending up in jail. But, believe me, I'm not some starry-eyed damsel who sits around waiting for a hero to come to the rescue. I know I don't owe you anything. My principles don't revolve around a value system. Besides, I do alright on my own. I was just..." Her mouth finally clamped shut and Gigi thought about what she was saying. "The lady doth protest too much."

Jack actually laughed. "Yes, I think she does."

"Okay, let's start over." Gigi went back out into the hall and knocked again. This time, Jack beckoned her entrance in a calmer manner. Breezily she entered and held up the envelope. "Sorry to intrude, Master Chief, but Lee wanted me to drop some info about the training program for you to give your okay. Okay?"

Carefully controlling a grin, Jack took the envelope and leveled a precarious gaze on her lovely face. "Thank you...Miss...Giavanna."

"You're welcome...Jack." Okay, they were all right now, but before Gigi left him to his privacy, she glanced around the small neat office. A shelf of books caught her eye and she wandered over to the little shelf by the window. "More poetry?"

Jack was poised to discourage Gigi's perusal, but he just got that little tickle on the inside of his belly again and let it go. Fuck it!

"No, not poetry," Gigi murmured to herself and boldly pulled a few titles free. "Hmmm...deep. 'Interpreting the Self: Autobiography in the Arabic Literary Tradition.' 'One Sheaf, One Vine: Racially Conscious White Americans Talk About Race.' Deeper. 'The Narrative of Antonio Munoz Molina: Self-Conscious Realism and "El Desencanto" (Currents in Comparative Romance Languages and Literature).'" A brow quirked up at Jack, "¿Usted habla español?"

"Sí. ¿usted?"

"Technically no. I'm Italian so that's my official second language. It's close to Spanish and French. I can get by. But what of this one, 'Interpreting the Self: Autobiography in the Arabic Literary Tradition?' Arabic, too?"

"It's required when you're part of a West Coast SEAL team." Jack leaned against his desk, "I became more interested in the language, the writings of the culture."

"So, where did you go to college?" Most of Gigi's attention returned to his reading material.

"Why do you assume?" He wanted to know more about what she thought of him. Stupid, male pride.

"I thought only women fished for compliments."

"Excuse me," his arms crossed, head cocked.

"I'm joking! Obviously you aren't the typical career soldier." She threw a cunning smile over her shoulder. "I just wonder where you picked up some of these interests. Either college, your parents were missionaries, or you grew up in a culturally diverse environment. I doubt the last part though. You've got a Southern accent. Not much diversity in confederate territory."

"That's not necessarily true," Jack contradicted. "When people immigrate to the United States, many of them end up living in the South...especially Texas."

"Where you're from?" A book by Marquis De Sade caught her eye.

"Yes. Near Houston, actually."

"Big cities don't count." She shrugged absently.

Jack shook his head. Young people tended to hear only what they wanted to hear, "I said near Houston. I grew up on a cattle ranch and I saw plenty of diversity. My family did business with Mexicans, Blacks, Asians, Middle Easterners, Native Americans..."

"I think in business, the only color that matters is the green money. People don't have to make an effort to get to know one another. Just be open enough to trade goods. That's the easy way to exposure, isn't it? To gain that kind of passive knowledge of others? To only be willing to interact because a profit is guaranteed when the day is over?"

"Nothing is passive about your behavior if you are a willing participant." He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with her. "You choose to be in a particular place at a particular time, for one reason or another. Any kind of knowledge that may be garnered, was done so because you accepted the empirical terms of social interaction."

"Are you saying that you, personally, have had those kinds of experiences, then you consciously chose to expand on the most interesting bits and pieces from those interactions?"

"Yes, but we all do. Whether we like it or not, we've made ourselves what we are."

"A cattle ranch huh?" Gigi gave Jack a nod. Yes, she could see him on a ranch rustling up cattle and such...in chaps and a Stetson. "Guess that rules out your parents being missionaries. Where did you choose to expand on you knowledge and make yourself what you are...besides the military, of course?"

"Florida State."

"Play any football?"

"No. I was in the Navy at the time."

Finished spying the reading material, Gigi faced Jack and noted that she had never seen him look so open. "Major?"

"Double. Mechanical engineering...and comparative literature. " Jack finally gave up a reluctant grin.

Gigi nodded, studied him. "That's very fitting...the variation of your studies. Do you always try to engage your full brain? Give the left and right side the necessary amount of stimulation?"

"No," Jack's honest answer bothered him.

"Well, don't worry, even people who are highly self-aware can falter. Can't be Ayn Rand all the time, right? Hey, look at that." Gigi moved around Jack, to his desk. She missed the surprised gleam in his eyes. She read Ayn Rand? This kid? Instead she picked up the picture that sat on the desk.

He watched her closely as she scrutinized every inch of the photo. 'Intrigued' was as well as Jack could come to interpreting Gigi at the moment. He couldn't believe how he just stood dumbfounded, following her attentions as she cased his office.

"This is," the pretty young girl smiled at Gigi. High cheekbones, slightly full mouth, aquatic eyes, "this is your daughter." She held the picture up to Jack as if he didn't already know. "Are you married?"

Before Jack could skirt the question, he noticed Gigi's fingernails. Short, neat and functional. Amazingly, he hadn't thought much about the dream since this morning. The exasperating conversation with his daughter's mother caused that. But now he remembered...his back...the scratches. Gigi scratched him while she was coming. Coming with Jack buried deep inside her. But that wasn't real! It had to have been Lynelle! Except, Jack didn't fuck her last night. He could only stare at those clearly polished nails and wonder what the hell was happening to his mind. This girl did nothing to put it at ease.

"Uhh...look, Miss...uhh, Giavanna," he was suddenly agitated, "I need to get back to work. Thank you for the bringing the papers over." Jack's accent was always more distinguishable when he was unsure of himself in some way.

Gigi put the photo back on his desk. She had pushed too hard. The guy was either separated from his wife and daughter or recently divorced and still feeling the effects of it. "Sure, no problem," she backed away as if Jack had just morphed into a bear. Well, he had morphed into...something. "It was good talking to you again, Jack. I'll...see you around I guess."

He didn't speak, only watched her until she was gone. When the door closed, Jack exhaled a breath he wasn''t even aware he had been holding. All right, it was settled, he was staying far away from that bedazzling little imp. Who knew what she may do to him in his next dream. God forbid the kid was into whips and chains.
**********************************************
Minutes after Gigi left, another visitor was knocking on Jack's door. Before he got the chance to growl in frustration, Lieutenant Sam Quinn poked his curly ebony head into the office. His mischievous blue eyes danced with interest at the lady who just left his best buddy's company.

"Whoa stud!" Sam grinned lecherously. "Who was that compact little honey?" He invited himself in and slid into the chair across from Jack at the desk.

Jack's thoughtful scowl relaxed at the sight of Sam. Every since he had been stuck in Santa Octavia, his SEAL teammate, best friend and spiritual little brother had come to visit often, sometimes bringing along other Team 23 comrades. Sometimes Jack suspected that Sam just missed fucking with him, since he was the only person on the team who seemed to be the complete opposite of Sam. But somehow, Jack and Sam had grown on each other over the past six years and to the bewilderment of others were as close as blood brothers, their differences somehow settling comfortably between them. That was not to say that the younger, much too good-looking lieutenant didn't still exasperate the master chief at times, but Jack had to admit he was always glad to see Sam; just not after Sam saw Giavanna Giancarlo leaving his office.

"Shut the door," Jack greeted wearily.

Sam reared himself back in his seat and tapped the door with his fingertips, then eased the chair legs back to the floor. Once the door was securely closed, he watched Jack expectantly. "Well, who is she?"

"Missed you too, brother, " Jack quipped drily.

"Awww...you know I love you." Sam blew Jack a kiss and fluttered his long lashes. His natural tawny complexion had deepened from hours of physical activity in the sun, giving his white teeth an extra brightness, "but I love the ladies more. Now," he sat forward anxiously, "tell me about that particular lady. Who is she? And what does she look like out of those sweats?"

"Oh, fuck," Jack groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wished he didn't know what Gigi looked like out of her sweats.

"I knew it! Something's up with her, right? You're banging that, Jack?" Sam's excitement was palpable. "You sly son of a bitch! My fucking hero!"

Stark terror crossed Jack's face. "Are you fucking crazy? Hell, no! She's a child, Sam. No way am I going there."

"Shit, she looked grown up to me." He had checked Gigi out thoroughly.

The smile Sam exposed was full of intent. Jack had seen it many, many times. He fixed Sam with an almost callous regard. "Don't even think about it," a tinge of protectiveness raced up Jack's spine. Sam Quinn was a shameless philanderer, slept with any woman who was effected by his movie star looks and seductive charm. Those women were legion. Gigi was too young...and smart to be among them. "Giavanna isn't your usual type."

"Giavanna, huh. Nice. So how do you know she isn't my type?"

"Did she give you a second look?" Somehow Jack was confident in the knowledge that she hadn't even noticed Sam.

Sam's fair features pulled a contemplative frown. "No, she didn't, " he answered slowly, almost offended. "She must be a lesbo."

Jack laughed out loud in thorough amusement. "That young lady is not gay. Get over yourself."

Sam pursed his full lips, "umm-hmm...so what's her connection to you, anyway?"

Jack sighed heavily, leaned back in his chair. "She's an assistant to the martial arts instructor -"

"Get the fuck outta here! Her? Can she kick ass?" Sam was shocked and fascinated.

"She can hold her own," Jack answered pensively.

"Well, fuck me! Where was she when I was in training?"

"Thankfully, she was in grade school, " Jack muttered with a smirk.

"Why are you so hung up on her age? She's legal, right"

"Yes, she's legal."

"Then why is her age such a big issue," Sam shrugged.

"Giavanna may be an adult, but she's still too young for you, and most other men who break their necks looking at her till she's out of sight."

"Don't tell me, with a woman that fine, your papa bear instincts are kicking in." Sam was beside himself with disbelief. "Shit, maybe you are getting old...or just too used to those geriatric broads you've been dicking lately."

Jack's skull drilling stare didn't work on Sam. Never had. "Who I dick is none of your fucking business. Am I supposed to apologize because I like women who are way past puberty? Fuck you. And if I were you Samuel, I would not criticize my choice of female partners."

"Ahh, hell." Sam was truly contrite. "I'm sorry Mack. You still seeing that redhead..." he snapped his fingers, trying to recollect. "What's her name again?"

"Lynelle," Jack supplied testily.

"Oh, yeah."

"Oh, yeah," Jack mocked, "and no one would ever mistake Lynelle for my daughter."

"So that's your problem? You don't ever want to come off as some kind of cradle-robbing pervert," Sam asked pointedly.

Jack could see that Sam had no such reservations. "If you get lucky enough to have a daughter, you'll begin to see women differently."

"I'm sure...which is why I want to put fatherhood off as long as possible. How's Erin doing anyway?"

A wide smile lit Jack's face, lit the whole office. "She's coming for a visit in a couple of weeks."

"Damn, I won't get to see my pretty pumpkin." Sam was very fond of his 12 year-old 'niece.' "How the hell did you get Teresa to agree to a visit?"

Jack rubbed his hands over his face and recalled the telephone conversation that had him on edge all morning. "She gave me a whole lot of shit about it. Busted my balls, but Erin's still coming out. That's all that matters."

"I want to get her something," Sam already had a cool gift picked out, "leave it for when she gets here."

Jack nodded cautiously, "fine. Just don't get her a weapon. That didn't go over so well the last time."

"It was an air gun!" Sam protested with a laugh.

"No more weapons." Jack was firm despite the amusement in his eyes.

"Yes, sir." Sam saluted then propped his feet on the desk and gazed at the chief. Big brother looked stressed. "How are you doing?" The query was casual.

Jack knew what Sam was after. "I'm feeling like getting back to life in Coronado...back to the team. I feel fine."

"And if you don't get back to the team?"

Jack frowned, "why ask me that question?"

Sam shrugged, "at one time you were seriously talking about taking over operations of you parents ranch. They would prefer you to your brothers and sister. Of course, that was before you got shot to shit then turned into the six million dollar man. You rebuilt yourself and it seems like you forgot about the ranch."

"Bullshit, Sam! The commander thinks I a liability?" He had to ask even though the answer was already clear.

"He's the only one...yeah. Unfortunately, Commander Paulson is the only one who matters." Sam sat up and rested his forearms on the desk, fixing Jack with a solid regard, "just think about things, Jack. If you hate it here at Rock Island...really hate it, not just because you think it was a punishment, but because you honestly can't stomach the thought of this being your final command...then leave the whole SEAL life behind and retire. Go home to the ranch and be happy. Do what you always knew you would eventually do. So what if it's a few years sooner than you thought."

Jack's bitter laugh gave his opinion of Sam's advice. "Since BUD/S I've never quit one goddamned thing. Paulson is being an idiot."

"Yeah, he is. Just covering his ass though. Can't have you dying on his watch."

"With my kind of experience, some other team will have me." Jack knew his worth within the Navy and the SEAL program. "And some other commander will have me active."

"But for how long? Shit man, I'm thirty-four and these shiny new recruits make me work for mine everyday...just to keep up!"

"Then you retire Sam. I didn't do all this rehabilitation for nothing. I did it with a clear goal in mind. I'm not going to abandon that goal."

"Things change, Jack. You always tell me that. Hell, you might come to like Santa Octavia. That Lynelle might be somebody you don't want to leave. Erin might like it better here. You'd have more time for her."

Jack sighed, rubbed his eyes. He knew Sam was right, but he wasn't in any mood to plot his future at that very moment. "I need to get out of here. Feels like these walls are closing in on me today."

Sam sprang to his feet, "then knock off early and lets get off this fucking base. Your fun half is in town, Mack. Time to find some trouble." Sam's devilish grin was infectious.

"My fun half huh, Mighty?" Jack and Sam used their team nicknames. Mack came from the song 'Mack the Knife.' Since Jack had always been particularly handy with knives and weapons and Mack rhymed with Jack...Sam began using the nickname and so had most of the other teammates. Sam was Mighty due to his last name; Quinn. Obviously, taken from the title of the movie, 'The Mighty Quinn.' Other teammates included Zulu, Frankenstein, Jinx and Hoss. Team 23 was colorfully monikered.

"Your fun half. You can't deny it! Let's go into the city and unwind. More women there too."

"Alright Casanova," Jack was in a better mood already, "the city it is."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

UnderGround was a hipster hangout. It was one of the newer nightclubs in the city and boasted a swanky jazz club on the lower level and a throbbing dance club above. People of all ages and tastes were attracted to UG. It was the kind of business that reflected the people who drove the economy in the area; diverse, ambitious and urbane. UG was an hour long drive from Santa Octavia. The SEALs from Rock Island never came this far inland for entertainment, usually preferring the simpler strip bars and dives closer to base. That was the reason one of the bouncers at UG was so stunned at the identity of one of the patrons waiting in line to get in. Even more unbelievable was the woman hanging all over him.

"Boss, you ain't never gonna believe who's in line!" Donny spoke into the headset that all security personnel and the operating manager wore to keep in constant contact.

"Who," the manager asked distractedly while pouring drinks at the upstairs bar, covering for a bartender on break.

"Monster chief!" Donny whispered through a laugh.

The manager dropped a bottle of rum. "Say what? Nooooo!"

"Yes! Yes! Yesssss! And the real messed up part is the chick he's with."

"Well, shit Don...I'd believe anything about now. Who's he with?"

"The one and only...Condom Lady."

"SHUT! UP!" The manager ignored many peculiar stares.

Donny was just too tickled. "You gotta see this, boss."

"Oh, lord. I can't. That poor man. The master chief is going around with the Condom Lady? Are you sure they're together? She's all over everybody, all the time." The manager just couldn't imagine a put-together guy like Master Chief Urgayle and the woman all the employees of UG had dubbed the Condom Lady! She was here all the time. Never with the same man twice and always in the ladies room raiding the condom machines before she left with whichever Tom, Dick or Harry. Tonight she would be leaving with a Jack.

"Oh, yeah. They are together. Chief just kissed her." Donny smirked. "Like he's gettin' something nobody's had before. Damn, never thought I'd have anything in common with that man."

The manager was quiet for a moment at that statement. "You and the Condom Lady...? Donny, you...you slept with her?"

"We ain't do no sleepin', boss."

"Oh my freaking God! This is too much." The manager stealthily poured a shot of tequila and slipped away to toss it back. Ohhh, the warmth was nice.

"She hooked herself a nutty motherfucka tonight, though. Monster Chief is probably gonna work that shit out. He's too uptight anyway. Needs to get laid."

After another surreptitious shot of Cuervo, the manager blew out a hot breath. "Hell with it, I've got to see those two together for myself."
**********************************************
Jack was pissed...at himself for allowing Lynelle to wrangle an invitation out of him during Sam's last night in town. So, instead of relaxing with a few beers...for the third night in a row, he and Sam were dragged to some nightclub they had to stand in line for. Jack hated those kinds of places. Usually full of pretentious fakes who only cared about how much money they could make and how expensive their car was. But this was Lynelle's choice of a hangout. She seemed to know a lot of people there, but Jack could never remember her mentioning having been to UnderGround before. Mercifully, the place was part jazz bar. At least they wouldn't have to listen to some of that God awful crap that was called music these days. He liked music...real music, by genuinely talented artists. The shit that was cranked out today was a sick joke to his senses.

"Better than I expected." Sam elbowed Jack in the ribs.

"The club or the women?" Jack grinned.

"Both."

"Is this what you two have been doing when you go out together," Lynelle flipped her lush auburn curls, "talking about women?"

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Jack interrupted. Sam had made no secret of his dislike for Lynelle. "We talk about whatever we find interesting at the time. Just like you and your friends." Jack answered patiently. "Speaking of, you seem to know a lot of people around here."

Lynelle glanced around the jazz bar, recognizing several of her most recent one nighters. Coyly, she responded, "I've been here a couple of times. The people are interesting. Do me a favor, honey," she dropped her hand onto Jack's crotch, "order a drink for me and I'll be right back."

Lynelle rose from her seat elegantly and 'accidentally' brushed her spandex-clad behind against Sam's head. With a corrupt grin, she slunk off to the lady's room.

"Mack," Sam was barely keeping cool, "she put her ass on my head." He informed through clenched teeth.

"I know," Jack sighed and motioned for a waitress, "I'm sorry. What can I do? You're hot, man." He ordered a white wine for Lynelle and two bourbons with water for Sam and himself.

"That's funny." Sam smiled silkily at a Halle Berry look-alike. "Very fucking funny. Something's not right about her. She touches me again, I'll choke her with all that goddamned devil hair."

"Gee, it really hurts that you don't like my lady, Sam." Jack put on his best stricken expression. "Especially since you said that she may be someone I may not want to leave."

"Stop fucking with me. You know she's not right. She hates to read. I mean, she said that out loud, for Christ's sake! She thinks these phonies are interesting," he made quotation marks with his fingers. "And she flirts with your best friend right in front of you. Hey, I'm not even going to pretend that I take up with the most decent women, but shit, they better show some respect while I'm around."

"I'm tired of the game, Sam." Jack became serious. "I'm not saying I'm settling with or for Lynelle, but I am saying I haven't gotten sick of her yet."

"She's a good-looking woman, but is the sex that good?"

Jack shook his head. "Classy as ever Mighty."

"Now that is a woman, right thurrr." Sam inclined his head toward a striking, dark brunette approaching their table.

Jack followed Sam's line of sight and nearly fell off his chair. Giavanna Giancarlo was...she seemed to be floating toward them. And her keen emerald gaze was fixed on him. Jack couldn't take his eyes off her. What a get up! A halter top that secured at the back of her neck, plunged in front and revealed her flat, but hardly washboard belly. Her pants were as funky and sexy as the top. Lacy, tight and flared at the bottom. Hair pulled up into a tousled ponytail and high heeled sandals on feet that Jack had once noticed were kind of long for a shorter woman. Although he had seen her dressed provocatively before, this night, Jack noticed that Gigi was kind of fleshy. Femininely soft. She didn't seem so while in kick-ass mode in the gym on base. Perception. He had to smile to himself as he and Sam stood politely.

"Good evening Jack," Gigi thought Jack looked like a GQ model. He was so well dressed, freshly groomed. The guy sitting with him was a pretty thing, but Jack was just a picture of handsome ruggedness. For the first time she realized just how sexy he was. Even wore a dress shirt that matched his aqua eyes. Eyes that gave her a good once over. And he smelled like heaven. How the hell had the Condom Lady snagged this man? "This is a surprise...but welcome to my club; UnderGround."

"Your club?" He frowned in disbelief. "You told me you worked in music...for your uncle."

"UG is owned by Terranova Records, upstairs. That's my uncle's company. I'm the operations manager down here as well as a producer."

"A multi talented woman. And absolutely beautiful," Sam spoke up. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

Her brows rose, "again?"

Jack stifled a laugh. He knew she hadn't noticed Sam before.

Sam cleared his throat. "At the command center a few days ago. We passed one another in the hall outside Jack's office," the silky smile was bestowed on her. "Lieutenant Sam Quinn," he held out his hand.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't see you...but hello," she shook the offered hand. "Gigi Giancarlo."

Didn't see him? Hiding his irritation at the slight, Sam brought Gigi's hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "The pleasure is profoundly mine," his deep voice rasped.

Now, this guy got snatch by the pound. Gigi was sure if it. He knew how good-looking he was and had a smooth assumptive way with women. He expected every woman with a pulse to want him. Nine times out of ten the lieutenant's expectations were met. Tonight, Gigi was his unlucky number ten. She slipped her hand out of Sam's gracefully.

Gigi glimpsed about, wondering if Donny was joking about the Condom Lady. She wasn't with Jack, but that didn't mean she wasn't there. Gigi was still determined to see Jack with this woman...with her own eyes. "Is this your first time here?" She asked Jack, stalling for time and getting her fill of his cologne. Her mind could only process his presence as he answered her question. Gigi wasn't even sure of everything he said. This man had her twisted tonight and it wasn't just because he looked and smelled so damned good. It was those unique eyes of his and the way they changed when he looked at her. Jack liked her...reluctantly, Gigi could feel that. The reason for the reluctance wasn't so clear. Maybe the message in his eyes was telling her she could come a little closer...but don't get comfortable.

"Yes, first time here." Jack answered and slipped his hands into his pockets, worried he may do something stupid, like tuck that loose lock of hair behind Gigi's ear. "It's very sophisticated. Actually, my girlfriend suggested we come here." Fuck! Why did he say that?

Gigi's smile froze. Girlfriend? Jack considered the Condom Lady his girlfriend? "Well, I hope she likes the place, too. How about you Sam," she had to stop staring at Jack or she get hypnotized by that omniscient regard of his. Then she'd end up telling him all about his 'girlfriend.'

"The decor is awesome. It's one of the best clubs I've been in." He watched Gigi and Jack during their inane chatter. They gazed at each other like they just found the answer to some burning question and were amazed they hadn't known all along. If Jack believed he wasn't into this woman, he had his head up his ass. And Gigi looked up at Jack like he hung the moon just for her. The waitress who brought their drinks also whispered something in Gigi's ear. She excused herself and went off towards the entrance to the dance club.

Sam watched Jack for a moment then asked, "are you sure you're not fucking her?"
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Gigi rubbed the back of her neck in irritation. "I don't have time for this conversation, Andy. It's busy tonight. You could have just left a message."

"I don't speak to lackeys, Giavanna. I barely tolerate speaking to you. I would much rather conduct business with your father." The caller's tone was as disdainful as his words.

She sat up straight in the chair behind her desk. When the waitress told Gigi she had a phone call in her office, she knew who would be on the other end. "Then why don't you call Giuseppe? He's more willing to kiss your ass than some mere lackey, isn't he Andy? I don't have anything to say, so if you're done insulting me-"

"You better not hang up on me," the warning was softly lethal. "You're needed in New York. Pronto, young lady. Now, enough of your smart mouth. Start showing some fucking respect...to your father and your husband."

With a shaking hand, Gigi slammed the phone down. She paced the length of her office praying Andy wouldn't call back. But then, why should he? He already got her attention...gave Gigi her orders. New York. Pronto. What could those vultures want with her now?

She went back to work, trying to forget her life outside the club. As Gigi made her way toward the kitchen, she heard muffled moans from a darkened corner. Oh, for crying out loud! Were people fucking in her club? Already in a bad mood, she stalked toward the sounds, ready to cuss out whoever was getting their rocks off. Then she saw a flash of red hair, bouncing in time with some heavy grunting. Gigi backed up and hid in the darkness. Stealthily she peered around a corner and saw the woman's face, her mouth hanging slack as she was being plowed from behind. Jack's girlfriend. Jack's girlfriend was getting screwed by some other guy while he was in the same building! Gigi clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. On tiptoe, she scurried off and through the first unlocked door in the nearest hall.

Inside the restroom, Gigi let out an exasperated breath. She braced herself on the counter at line of sinks and looked at herself in the mirror under the flattering light. God, there were tears in her eyes! What was bothering her more; was it Andy and her father or was it the Condom Lady's startlingly bold antics? Did anybody give a damn about anybody else?

After splashing some cold water on her face, Gigi meant to go, but the door swung open and in walked a disheveled Lynelle. Gigi openly stared at the woman as she used paper towels to wipe sweat from under her arms and between her breasts, then straightened her clothing. That had been some wild tryst. Exciting and wild. Lynelle was oblivious to the black-clad young woman watching her. She had to get back to Jack. Satisfied by her revamped appearance, the Condom Lady stayed true to form. After extracting several dollars from her purse, she loaded the money into the machine of choice. Gigi knew too much, now. Lynelle bought several Mega-Man condoms...made for generously endowed men. She had to turn away, the feeling that her knowledge disrespected Jack in some way. When Lynelle sauntered out, Gigi followed her and hovered at the entrance of the jazz club. Sure enough, Condom Lady went straight to Jack's table. He and Sam stood, as they had done for herself, then Lynelle gave Jack an intimate kiss on the neck. Yes, they were definitely together. And Gigi was definitely going to be sick.

As if he felt her there, Jack turned and looked directly at Gigi. His head tilted in curiosity, his brow furrowed in concern. Without hesitation, Jack stood and approached her. Stunned, Gigi darted out of the club, but before she could make it up the stairs and out of sight, someone grabbed her by the wrist. Two security guards ran over immediately.

"Gigi, is this man bothering you," a large blonde man with a crisp British accent gave Jack a scathing glare.

She noticed that Jack hadn't let go of her. "No, Eric. I'm fine. You and Shane can go back to your posts."

Eric turned sharply and Shane gave a final glance at Jack over his retreating shoulder. Jack never took his eyes off Gigi.

"What's wrong," he asked quietly, trying to catch her gaze. Gigi wouldn't look at him. "Did something happen? Is that why you had to leave earlier?"

"I...nothing. Look, you have friends with you. I just need to get some things done before I go. I'm flying to New York to see my parents tonight," she confided dourly.

"Are your parents-"

"They're fine."

Jack knew that was a load of bullshit. If Gigi hated her father, he couldn't be a fine man. Maybe Sam was right. He was developing a kind of paternal interest in Gigi. Jack didn't know what he would have to do, besides behave abusively, for Erin to hate him. Had Gigi's father abused her? The thought made Jack wince.

"When will you be back?"

"Not soon enough," she quipped.

"All right," he realized Gigi was drawing away. Didn't want to talk. "Have a safe trip."

Gigi watched Jack walk back into the jazz club. That purposeful, confident stride. His daughter probably adored him. Of course she adored him. He was a good man...a man who had never even looked at her with the slightest hint of a leer. Oh, Jack noticed her beauty, but he was man enough to handle himself around her, to not be swayed by his hormones. Jack was behaving like a decent older man who thought she was a damaged young woman lacking fatherly influence. Meanwhile she was standing there trying to forget that she knew the master chief was well-hung and that his girlfriend was a slut.
*********************************************
As soon as they slammed through the door of Lynelle's apartment, Jack had her up against the wall. She gasped in surprise at his aggression. He had been so distracted during the drive home. But he was kissing her, biting her, tearing her skirt and stockings away...digging into her purse for the never-ending supply of rubbers. After quickly covering himself, Jack drove his cock into Lynelle's suspended body. He held her up and set a pace that would bring him to orgasm quickly. His breath fanned her skin in hot waves while his strong body bounced Lynelle on his groin. She gave little yelps as if Jack were hurting her. Truth was, she was still slightly sore from her earlier activities. Soon, Jack began fucking Lynelle into the wall like a man possessed. He had to get this tension out of his system, had to get Gigi out of his head. Why had she been looking at him so intently that night? Why had he wanted to touch her so badly? On a harsh cry, Jack rose up on his toes, felt his legs quiver. His cock throbbed and a rush of sensation seized every nerve in his body. He rode the sharp pleasure wave, gripping Lynelle so tightly she was sure to be bruised for at least two weeks. It was over too quickly. After Jack finished cumming, he backed away and let her slide to the floor.

Oh, God ... it wasn't enough. He was still hot and tense. Idly he stroked himself, debating whether he wanted to fuck Lynelle again, but his hand felt better. Jack stood there, pants pulled down to his thighs, belt buckle jingling while he jerked off, his imagination more arousing to him than the real thing. Languidly, his eyes slipped shut, blocking out the woman crumpled on the floor watching him. Instead, he let another woman in. Before long, both hands were active, pulling on a newly erect prick and massaging his balls. A moan escaped him as his fantasies sent a tingling flush over his glistening skin. What he must have looked like standing there beating off in the moonlight. A hand flew over the turgid flesh, another kept fondling the testicles that were drawing up with his excitement. The purple head of Jack's cock got the most of his amorous attention. Over and over, his fist squeezed and pulled that sensitive area until he fell to his knees, body convulsing almost painfully. This was what he needed... a purging. His harsh breathing escaped in pants while his thick cum spurted onto the carpet below. If Jack hadn't grabbed onto the coffee table, he would have fallen over. It took long moments to catch his breath, but when he did, realized there was not reason to stay. Jack pulled his pants up and left...no remorse for what he had just done.