More Than Darkness

More than Darkness

An OUATIM story by S&M

Disclaimer: Sands isn't ours. He belongs to Robert Rodriguez and we're only borrowing him.

Authors’ Notes: This is a crossover smutty story featuring the character of Tess/Salida ie Tess’ Voice in Neon Dasies’ OUATIM fics on ff.net, More Than Eyes Alone Can See, and More Than Life, and Sands/Jeffrey from Merrie’s OUATIM fic on ff.net, Darkness Rising. This story will make some sense, probably, if you read it without having read either of our stories, but it’ll make a hell of a lot more if you just read them. They’re all worth reading, we promise. Anyway, on with the show.

Rated: Who knows? If not NC-17, then at least a “hard” R for strong language, violence, and above all, lots of sexual content. The fun stuff, basically.

******

Jeffrey walked down the wide street, a perpetual scowl on his face. Whose bright idea was it to come to Boston anyway? This place sucks, he thought to himself. Probably Sands. He would like a place like this. It’s got ‘culture,’ he sneered within his head.

Jeffrey stopped in front of a place that Sands would no doubt consider cultured, by the name: Cafe Armandé. “What the hell kind of name is that?” he muttered to himself, looking it over, his scowl deepening. “There doesn’t seem to be anything special about it to me.” He almost turned away, but curiosity got the better of him, and with a martyred sigh, he pushed the cafe door open, frowning as the sound of a high pitched bell hung above the door assaulted his ears. It looks just like every other cafe, he thought to himself, unimpressed. It even seems to have the same people. His eyes scanned across the room. And dear God, they’re reading poetry. He was about to turn tail and leave, his curiosity satisfied, when his eyes set upon a woman across the room sitting at one of the tables. His eyes widened slightly as he took in her outfit, and with a smirk, he made his way over to her.

Salida was more than pleased with herself. It wasn’t easy getting Tessa to sleepwalk, but when she did . . . she really slept. Which gave Salida all night to enjoy herself, something she got once in a blue moon. Tess really wasn’t the life of the party . . . she didn’t even really have a life. So when Salida got the chance to take control, she did all the things that Tess never did. She went out and met people. She ate chocolate. Drank coffee. Watched ‘inappropriate’ movies. And generally had a good time.

She hummed as she took a sip of coffee. Amaretto. It was great stuff. So was caffeine. And the chocolate cake in front of her . . . well, that was only so-so, but it was better than nothing.

Salida looked around the room, making fun of the people who surrounded her. Beatnik wannabe’s every single one of them. In their all black clothes and their little berets and the men with their scant goatees. And the poetry. It almost hurt to listen to. But every once in awhile, she met interesting people in small places like these, so she was willing to sit it out until she’d at least finished her cake.

She was shifting in her seat when someone in the corner of her eye caught her attention. The long hair, the dark clothes, the patently bored air about him . . . Just another Lennon wannabe. Pity. Other than that, he looks like he’d be worth my time.

Jeffrey saw the woman eying him like a piece of horseflesh as he walked over to her table, and he had to admit, it turned him on more than a little bit. He had never met a woman who had looked at him quite that way, as if she were judging him good or not to eat. He took a seat at the table across from her without an invitation, deciding to be bold. From the slightly smoldering look in her eyes, she could be interested, if he could convince her. And he could be very convincing when he wanted to be.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, and Jeffrey was growing annoyed. Why isn’t she saying anything? He thought to himself, refusing to let his emotions show on his face. From the looks of the woman in front of him she’d see that as a weakness. By God, if she yawns I’m going to fucking strangle her. As soon as the thought crossed his mind however, he knew he wouldn’t. This . . . creature . . . in front of him was too intriguing for the moment to do her any harm. There was no promises about later though. He sat in silence, trying his best to ignore the utterly awful poetry coming from a fat man in a black t-shirt several sizes too small for him, and finally decided he had had enough.

Her continued refusal to speak had put him on the offensive and the first words out of his mouth had bite, “What’s the matter? Couldn’t afford a whole shirt?” As soon as the words passed his lips however, he had to fight down a groan. God, that was fucking childish. Who is this woman?

Salida rolled her eyes, unimpressed by the caliber of his comment. “If that’s the best you’ve got junior,” she mimed a yawn, “I suggest you find new hunting grounds.”

Jeffrey’s hands twitched as he saw the yawn. I could still strangle her. It’s a bit public, but. . . . He put a cap down on that thought right away. This woman had already gotten him thinking homicidal thoughts and she had only said a few words.

“Oh, I can do much better than that, sugarbutt. Don’t worry. We’ve got all night. And sometimes actions are better than words, don’t you agree?” he asked, reaching over to grasp her hand, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it, sincerely hoping he wouldn’t get slapped. That would definitely put a damper on the evening.

“All night, hmm?” Salida watched, somewhat bemused as the stranger tried to play the young gallant. “I suppose I must give you credit for being so self-confident. Most men – and women for that matter – are scared of me. Which makes me wonder why you’re still here. Are you overly confident, stupid, or insane?”

“Oh, a little of all three, with an emphasis on the last,” Jeffrey said with a smirk. “And why would any man be afraid of such a gentle creature as yourself?”

“Remember Loraina Bobbett?” Salida flashed him a rather blood-thirsty smile. “I was rooting for her.”

Jeffrey couldn’t stop a slow intake of breath in the form of a hiss at that. “Well, it takes all kinds. And yet, I’m still here. I like a challenge.”

Salida raised an eyebrow, but refused to pick up the gauntlet. If he wanted to have ‘all night,’ he was going to have to work for it. So far she was impressed, but not enough to leave with him.

Salida and Jeffrey sat in silence for another five minutes or so as bad poetry and poorly thought out alliterations filled the air. She was impressed by the fact that he was still sitting across from her . . . most men scampered off by now, after they’d realized just how far over their heads they’d gotten. She ignored his probing stare, ignored the fact that he was trying to come up with some sort of plan of attack. Instead, she took another bite of chocolate cake, moaning softly as if it was the best thing she’d ever tasted, slowly pulling the fork out of her mouth after making sure that it was clean as a whistle. Having done this, she looked over at her companion, noticing how his attention had been diverted to her little show. Men. “So, are you going to give me a name, or are you the strong, silent type? Because you act more like the mouthy type that got the crap beat out of him as a kid.”

Jeffrey darted his eyes back up to her face, annoyed that he had fallen for such an obvious ploy. Oh well, he thought to himself. Never let it be said that the blood in my body always flowed in the direction of my brain. “Jeffrey,” he said, refusing to rise to the bait. He didn’t necessarily care for how this woman had turned the tables on him so easily, but he would live with it. For now. “And is there a name to match that wit of yours? Or should I just call you ‘woman’?” he said with a bit of a sneer. God, she was really riling him. He found he rather liked it.

She smiled. This one had spirit. “Well, I wouldn't mind being called ‘woman’ under the right circumstances, but you can call me Salida.” She smiled at her own private joke. Tess would have a heart attack if she knew about that. It was a pity her alter ego was such a delicate little thing. Tess would never be able to take a man like this one.

Jeffrey quirked an eyebrow at the name, “Sunrise? What, were your parents Spanish hippies or something?” he couldn't help but asking.

Salida felt Tess start to rouse at the mention of family, but she quickly calmed her hostess, sending thoughts of safety and peace to the other woman. The evening and all the others that came after it would be ruined if this little secret got out. Tess still didn’t know that Salida could take over at times.

When she noticed that several moments had gone by without her answering, she cursed. She’d just lost control of the conversation. But it’d do her no good to let ‘Jeffrey’ know that she was upset. Doing her best to hide her agitation, she answered, “Actually, it’s not really my name, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Jeffrey waved a hand absently at that in answer to her question. Of course he didn’t mind. She could call herself Brunhilda, Queen of the Vikings as long as went to bed with him.

“It doesn’t matter. Jeffrey’s not technically my name either.”

“Well, there’s nothing like trust to build a relationship on.” Salida stirred her drink. “So, Jeffrey, what are you doing around here? You don’t sound like you were raised in the area.”

“No, I’m in this fucking boring town on vacation, although it wasn’t my idea to come here,” he said, and then cursed himself for his almost slip. “I’m from DC myself,” he went on, hoping she didn’t notice the slip.

“Yes, this wouldn’t have been my first choice for a prolonged stay either,” she drawled.

“Well then, why are you here? You're definitely not from around here either. Not with that accent and those looks. Don’t tell me you got dragged on a fucking vacation too?”

“Nothing quite so pleasant. I’m finishing up my doctorate at the school.” The thought brought a dark look to Salida’s face. “And I didn’t have much of a choice to come. If I had, I would have chosen someplace that was a bit more lively. Everything around here is rather bland.”

“I’ll have to agree with that. How about we get the fuck out of here, and find some real entertainment?” Jeffrey said, not quite meaning it as an innuendo, but if that’s the way she wanted to take it, he wasn’t going to tell her different. He really did want to get away from these pathetic saps and their ‘poor me’ poetry.

Salida looked at the man for a moment, taking in his relaxed posture and – if she wasn’t mistaken – red silk shirt. He almost looked like a spoiled rich brat, but there was something about him that reminded her vaguely of . . . herself. A kindred spirit perhaps? That would be interesting. “Just one question before I agree to leave the café with you – you’re not a psychopathic murderer, are you? Or even a sociopathic one for that matter? Because if you are,” she smiled, “I’d like to be prepared.”

Jeffrey debated on whether or not to give her the whole truth, and decided what the hell and went for it. “What would you say if I told you I was both? Would you still want to go out with me tonight?”

Interesting. Interesting and rather arousing. “I guess that would depend on how you felt about going out with a clinical schizophrenic – one that really doesn’t have any morals . . . at least when the right personality is in charge.” The smile on her lips left doubt as to who was in charge. She could be enigmatic, especially if he insisted on acting like the Cheshire cat. “And you never did answer the part about being a murderer. Or homicidally inclined.”

Did she say what I think she just said? Jeffrey asked himself and conferred with Sands for a brief second to find that he had heard it too. “What if I told you that I’m a schizophrenic as well, though never diagnosed, and taking my worse half out for a night on the town? As for being homicidally inclined . . . well, I won’t tell if you won’t. But I’ve got a good idea that you could hold your own when it came down to it. So what are you worried about?”

“I’d say it sounds like you’ve already got a date and I don’t feel like being the third wheel.” She sipped her coffee, wincing as another ‘poet’ with an incredibly nasal voice and a reputation for epics came to the stage. “Although, at this point, I think staying here is more of a danger than leaving. Even with you.” Leisurely she stood, stretching and watching as Jeffrey’s eyes locked on the flash of skin the maneuver showed off. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand, junior.”

She reached for the back of her chair, lifting the leather coat that’d been waiting there for her. When Jeffrey moved to help her into it, she backed away and playfully shook her head. “Uh-uh. I get the feeling that I’m going to need to watch my back around you. I don’t want to leave too much evidence for my roommate to pick up on, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t know what you mean, but I’m willing to let it slide. Shall we walk out side by side then? With neither of us at the others’ back?”

“Yeah, just let me pay my bill first. I’ll meet you by the door.”

As Salida paid her bill with Tessa’s money, she wondered about the man she was leaving with. The way he spoke . . . it sounded like his alter ego was ever so much more cooperative than Tess was. She wondered if his other half could hear and see what was going on . . . and then she wondered if he’d be able to later on. The evening definitely had the promise of ending in sex, and she’d never been in a threesome before.

Jeffrey noticed her evil grin when she walked over to meet him.

"I'm not sure I want to know what you're smirking about," Jeffrey said, giving her a wry look. "But I bet it could be fun. Let's get the fuck out of this place." He didn't bother offering her his arm as an escort, he wasn't that desperate, and together the two of them walked out of the cafe from hell and out onto the street.

"Oh, something tells me you'd enjoy this thought . . . but I'll save it for later. I wouldn't want to shock you, junior." Salida tucked her hands in her pockets after zipping up her coat. She didn't know why she'd been sent to the 'extreme north' - whatever had happened had not been her fault - but she hated it. It was too cold. She preferred hot and steamy to cold and windy. To distract herself, she asked Jeffrey, "So, what's your version of the 'ideal date.' I want to know what I've gotten myself into here."

Jeffrey thought for a minute about the numerous ways he could ask such a loaded question; most of them involving comments that would probably get him killed, or worse. He shuddered at the images that thought brought. The woman before him was a man eater, and while that didn't really bother him in the slightest, it put him on his guard just a little. "Something that'll make an impression, not that anything will in this boring fucking city. Although you've certainly made an impression on me already," he said with a charming grin, knowing she wouldn't fall for it, but unable to resist. He could no more turn off his charm that a tiger could change its stripes, and he knew it.

Salida stopped in her tracks. "I appreciate charm as much as the next woman, Jeffrey, but I'd really appreciate a bit more honesty." She looked him up and down before meeting his eyes again. "I don't make a habit of turning back after making a decision, and apparently I've decided to grace you with my presence this evening. But if you can't be blunt . . ." she shrugged, "then I guess we'll just wander around all night before I have to go back home. It wouldn't do for my alter ego to wake up and not know where she was or who she was with. She'd drug me into submission so fast, I wouldn't even get to chance to give you a good-night kiss." She looked around. "I'm crazy. Or at least, I'm not sane in a conventional sense. I'll try anything once."

Jeffrey couldn't stop a corner of his mouth from quirking into a smirk at the images that sentence brought. "You want blunt, sugarabutt? I can do that. I plan to go out an get a drink, maybe find something worthwhile in this town to do for awhile, not fucking likely, and then take you back to my hotel and fuck you until we both go blind. Or I suppose it can be your place. I'm not a picky man. Was that blunt enough for you?"

Salida didn't react outwardly, but inside she quivered. She liked his course language for some reason. She also liked that he knew what he wanted. Her. "You know, junior, I had you pegged as a rich mama's boy, but you're not so bad. And as for the matter of your place or mine . . . Tess had to go and rent a house with some friends. We won't get any privacy there. And they would definitely quiz her if she brought a strange man home." Winking, she said, "I hope that bed of yours has clean sheets though. Dirty ones are something of a turn-off for me."

"While I am rich, I'm definitely not a mama's boy. In fact, my worse half seems to have killed our mother." He said nonchalantly. "As for the clean sheets, that can be arranged," he said, his ever-present smirk fixed firmly on his face. "Do you want to walk, or drive? Sands may be a rich pussy, but he does have good taste in cars, I'll have to give the bastard that."

Salida shrugged. "Anything to get out of this wind. It's as cold as hell out here."

Jeffrey looked at her, trying to guess if she were joking. It was 65 degrees out for fuck's sake. But he decided to humor her and turned to lead her to Sands' black Jag. "This way then," he said, leading the way.

Jeffrey led Salida to Sands' Jag, not missing the derisive snort that emanated from her as she saw it. Something like, "rich people." Jeffrey didn't let it bother him because he had actually started to like the car, not that he'd ever admit it to Sands of course. He also didn't bother opening the door for her, he had had enough of being the gentleman for one evening. It didn't suit him. He merely got into the car and waited for her to do the same. Once she had, he started the car, letting a small smile creep to his face as he heard the powerful engine purr. "Is there anywhere in particular you would care to go?" he asked, deciding to put the ball in her court. At least, for now anyway.

"Yeah, sure. There's a place downtown named 'Micky's' that caters to singles more than college kids. It'll be a bit quieter, but lively enough at this time of night. They serve pretty much everything, and I hear you can even get a decent game of pool in, if you want to."

"Pool huh?" Jeffrey asked with a wicked smirk. "The possibilities for sexual innuendos are practically endless. But if that's where you want to go, why the fuck not? As long as it doesn't have poetry, it's fine with me."

***

Mickey's lived up to its name. Like the bar made famous by 'Cheers', it was underground and seemed to have its own set of regular customers, as well as people who'd just come by for an after dinner drink or a game of pool. To Salida's disappointment, all the pool tables were taken for the moment. Pity. The sooner they got out of here, the sooner the real games could begin. Oh well, it was just a little past nine still. They had plenty of time.

She surprised Jeffrey by taking him by the hand and leading him over to an empty booth.

Jeffrey was still a bit shocked at the warmth his hand now held, transferred from Salida's own. That had been the last thing he had expected. Innuendos, perhaps a little teasing sure, but nothing quite like that. He found he inexplicably liked it. He frowned slightly at that. This was no time for such thoughts. This was to be one night stand. That was all. He was no Mr. Commitment by any stretch of the imagination. After a moment's thought, he cursed himself for being a pathetic sap. Salida wasn't one for commitment either. He didn't even know if her alter ego was aware of what was going on. He thought about asking her, but decided he didn't care. He turned and locked eyes with one of the waiters hovering throughout the place, and motioned him over.

"What can I get you?" the waiter asked.

"I'd like a double scotch," Jeffrey said first, not bothering to be chivalrous and let her go first. He was paying for her drink. That was enough for now.

The waiter looked at Salida, a silent inquiry as to what she'd like. "Gin and tonic." The waiter left and Salida looked at her companion. "So, is there anything in particular you want to talk about, or so I just start measuring you up to other men I've known?"

"You can measure later if you like," Jeffrey said, his smirk lavicious this time.

"Don't think I haven't already."

I like this girl, Jeffrey thought to himself. His smirked turned into a grin. Normally, he'd kill a woman for one-upping him at his own game, but this girl was different. He'd even consider letting her be on top later in the evening's "entertainments." He thought for a second about all the things he didn't want to talk about, hating stereotypical conversations, and tried to think of something original. "I like to kill people for fun, how about you?" he cursed himself for his unoriginality, but it had just popped out of his mouth before he could stop it. If he didn't know better, he'd think that Sands had put him up to it.

A part of him worried about telling this girl he'd just met about his extracurricular, "activities," but something about her made him more blunt and honest than he normally would have been. That, and if she threatened to go to the authorities, he could just kill her.

"Well, it's hard to have fun when you're locked up inside of someone else's mind for a majority of your days, but I suppose what I do for fun is try to get free. Some days I get rather close to taking over. On others, Tess - my friend - manages to keep me under lock and key. But most days I argue with her constantly, and try to get her to finally give in to me. And on the rare occasion, I can slip out while she's sleeping. Thus, my being here tonight."

"Well thank God for sleep then," and toasted her with the scotch that had just been set down on the table in front of him. "My own worse half, Sands, is up here somewhere," he said after taking a long swallow of scotch, tapping a temple with the first two fingers of his right hand. "But he doesn't have the strength to fight me any longer. He's always been somewhat of a pansy. If I get my way, I'll take over and he won't even exist any longer." He took another reflexive sip of his drink and looked at her across the table for a moment and then smirked. "Do you realize how fucking nutty this is? Two schizophrenics meeting up to have drinks. It sounds like the line of a bad joke. Something starting with 'two schizophrenics walked into a bar, or something inane like that."

"Wouldn't that be 'two schizophrenics walk into four bars?' Or perhaps the other way around. It's hard to keep all these numbers straight. I'm much better when it comes to hands on problem-solving." Salida winked, taking a sip of her own drink.

That's more like it, Jeffrey thought to himself. No more nonsense about commitment, pure well not so pure, fun, innuendos. I can deal with those. "That makes two of us. Speaking of hands on, would you like go over to the pool table now? A table has opened up. That's where the real fun will begin, I'm sure. I promise I'll let you touch my stick," he said with a wink of his own, heading over to the pool tables before Salida had a chance to comment.

Arrogant bastard. Salida stood up, abandoning her drink, thinking it was just as well. She wanted a clear head when dealing with this man. Tess rarely drank so the body they shared was unused to alcohol. And it was hard to spit out snappy comebacks when one couldn't get one's tongue to work.

Ignoring Jeffrey, Salida chose a cue, chalking the end nonchalantly as she wandered over to the table. "Should I rack them up, or should you? And don't say what I think you're going to."

"What, something about you've already got a rack? And a rather nice one, I might add. Is that what you didn't want me to say?"

"Alright then, I'll just keep my mouth shut and play pool," Jeffrey said, grabbing a cue of his own. "You rack," he said, his eyes twinkling.

Salida glared at him for a moment, before her lips quirked up into a smile. Jeffrey stared at it uneasily. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was going to make him pay for that later. Except he did know better.

'Oh well, it was fucking worth it to see that look on her face,' he thought to himself, now grinning like an idiot. 'And I'm sure that whatever little 'pay-back' she has in mind will be worth it as well.' His eyes followed her, not missing the chance to look down that scrap of cloth she insisted on calling a shirt when she bent over the table to rack the pool balls.

She looked up at him before he could advert his gaze, a wry smile twisting her lips. Bitch. He thought, realizing she'd done that on purpose.

Salida just held back a laugh. "Cool your jets, hot stuff. We'll make time for show and tell later." As she said that, she bent so her top gaped even more. "But you're welcome to enjoy the previews."

That was devious, he thought to himself. If I didn't think I'd kill her after the first night I think I could marry this girl, he laughed softly to himself at that. "Since you're a regular ball-breaker, you go first," he said with a wink.

"Are you so sure Sands is the worse half?" Salida murmured as she lined up her shot. "Never mind. From what I've heard he sounds like a match for Tessa. Maybe we should hook them up. Then she'd be happy and might let me out to play more." In a smooth motion, she sent the cue ball flying into the midst of the others. Unfortunately, none of them went into a pocket.

Jeffrey quirked an eyebrow at that, leaning on the cue stick he had propped up on the floor. "Playing match-maker for Sands, now there's a thought. Not an entirely unpleasant one, I'll admit. I think I'd like seeing you unleashed more often. And as for that," he gestured toward the still ball filled pool table, "Well, while you're living up to your reputation as a ball breaker, it looks like you're leaving it up to me to get them into the pockets." While his actual words were honest, he somehow managed to every other word out of his mouth into an innuendo. It was a gift. He picked up the cue and moved it to where it lined up on the Communist red ball, and smoothly sent it into the middle left pocket. "Solids."

"I suppose this is where I tell you to keep your balls in your pockets then." She wasn't sure that had come out the way she wanted, but she let it lie. "I always like the stripes anyway. There's just something about how they're divided into two hemispheres."

Jeffrey smirked at her comment and then looked pensive. "Yes, I suppose there would be something appealing to a schizophrenic about the stripes. I only like the solids because of the Communist red ball." He paused and turned to give her a direct look over the table, still smirking. "I've read that people who focus on red are two things, passionate lovers, and psychotics. Lucky you, I'm both."

"Well, that's yet to be proven. As a doctor in training, I've studied things like the scientific process. Most of its rot, but there's some parts of it I support . . . like gathering evidence."

"And I'm more than willing to allow you to gather that evidence, doctor," Sands said with a smile. "If you're a doctor in training, does that mean you've got one of those tight little nurses' outfits?" Jeffrey asked, an eyebrow raised in anticipation of her answer.

"No, it means I'm very good with a scalpel, and I've been practicing amputations."

"Yeouch," Jeffrey said, but he was undaunted and he could tell she knew it. "I suppose if you're into that kind of thing, it could be fun too. Not the amputations that is, I'm rather attached to everything on my body, but scalpels can be fun if you want them to be."

"Hhmm. I'm glad you think so too. If I'm not mistaken, I might have one in my purse." Salida grinned and waited for Jeffrey to take his next shot. "Although, I should probably run some tests on you first, just to make sure you're up to par."

"Oooh, sounds kinky. I like it. I look forward to meeting your expectations," he said, sinking another solid ball.

As he moved on to his next, Salida watched, taking in the way his body moved and finding that part at least was completely acceptable. Then, just as he was getting ready to sink another, she moved to say in his ear, "I did want to start some of those tests now." The ball missed the pocket, and Salida skipped away before he could grab her, an impish smile on her face. She could tell he was upset with her, but that really didn't phase her . . . she just started talking before he could. "I was thinking that I should check all your teeth, first. Not to mention that I have certain standards for men who . . . are interested in doing the same to me."

The feeling as if he were being inspected like a piece of horseflesh returned and Jeffrey's ego swelled a bit. "Oh, I'll give you a thorough inspection, top to bottom. Have no worries about that, sugarbutt," he said with a wink. "And you'll pay for that, you little vixen."

"I'm willing to give the down payment now," Salida said, looking at Jeffrey through her lashes, wondering if he'd get the clue that she wanted him to kiss her. She could just take what she wanted, but she wanted to save that little surprise for later.

God he wanted to kiss her. The way she was looking at him right now sent a wave of molten fire through his body, and he could feel his pants getting a bit tight. 'Oh what the hell. You only live once,' he thought to himself and moved with purpose around the pool table and locked his lips to hers in a passionate embrace, the game of pool forgotten and unmourned.

Salida moaned as Jeffrey took complete control of her mouth with his kiss. Distantly she admitted that perhaps he hadn't been bragging with the 'passionate lover bit,' but she didn't waste a lot of time thinking about that. Most of her concentration was focused on keeping her knees locked. It helped keep her both upright, and from throwing him on the pool table and fucking him then and there. In a compromise, she pressed herself against him, dropping her cue to wrap her arms around him, one hand tangling in his hair, her lips parting in unconscious response to the wave of masculine desire that was swamping her and getting her own hormones in an uproar.

Jeffrey felt a swell of masculine "pride" to hear Salida moan under the onslaught of his kiss. When she pressed against him however and her hand found its way into his hair, he couldn't help but let out a small moan himself before deepening the kiss even further, his tongue warring for dominance in the century-old battle.

"Hey!" a voice called out, and they parted quickly but reluctantly. They turned to see an older gentleman giving them both a death glare from one of the other pool tables. "If you're going to be getting on like that, take it somewhere else! Damn college kids," he muttered to himself, returning to his game without another word.

Jeffrey pulled back to look at Salida, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and desired filled eyes. "It seems we've been rousted," he said with a smirk. "Shall we continue this somewhere more...private?"

"I don't know," she murmured. "Good things come to those who wait." She looked at their just started game. "Besides, think of what fun we could have if we made a bet on the outcome of the game." She looked back at Jeffrey, taking note that he was only a few inches taller than her, and that his eyes were still heavy with desire . . . as were certain other parts of his anatomy. "What do you think?"

"Merciless tease," he muttered under his breath. "Fine, you seem to be in the mood for games, so I'll play. For now. You mentioned something about a wager. What are your terms?"

She grinned, moving away from his warm body regretfully. "Like I said earlier, I'll try anything once. You can set terms for both of us . . . as long as they don't get too kinky."

Jeffrey's eyes widened a bit at that. She was letting him set the terms? Oh, the possibilities abounded. "Alright then, have it your way. If you win, we go back to my hotel room and I let you have your wicked way with me. If I win, you let me have my wicked way with you anywhere I want. Including that pool table right there," he said, laying a hand down on the edge of said pool table. “I've always been a bit of an exhibitionist, what can I say? And getting Sands arrested could be amusing for awhile. And it would most certainly be worth it," he said with a wink.

Salida's head spun with the possibilities. Those were very good terms, and she agreed with all of them . . . except one point. "As much as I'd love to have sex with you right here on the pool table, getting arrested for public indecency would not be helpful to me. If you're really ever interested in the remotest chance of seeing me again, sex in a public place is going to have to be crossed off the list. Tessa will have a fit if I get her arrested, and I don't really look forward to spending the rest of my days in a drug haze." Despite her best efforts, there was a trace of real fear in her voice.

Jeffrey picked up on that fear, and he felt a wave of sympathy wash through him, dampening his arousal just enough to agree with her without remorse. He had often thought about whether or not Sands would get fed up with him and drug him into oblivion. The thought was not a happy one and he frowned. "I understand better than I want to," he muttered. "Alright, I can be a good boy; relatively. A public pool table in the middle of a popular bar isn't exactly the place I'd want to be having sex either. Can you dig it?"

"Yeah." Salida swallowed hard and picked up her cue. When she turned back to Jeffrey, her face was composed again. "But anywhere with a bit of privacy would definitely be alright."

Hey I'm supposedly the spoiled rich little mama's boy, right? I can afford any room in this whole fucking city. You want privacy, I want to get laid, I think we could work something out," he said, his smirk returning. He then looked over at the scattered colored balls on the pool table. "Whose turn is it again?"

Salida smirked. Yes. They could definitely work something out. "Mine. You missed your last shot." She leaned over to play, but felt someone's eyes on her. She looked up to find a trio of single guys watching her intently. "Oh, and by the by, there's some guys over their checking out what I believe are your previews. If you'd go block their view, I'd be eternally grateful, or something along those lines." Not to mention it'll keep you from pulling the same trick I pulled on you. But then an even better idea occurred to her. "Or you can get over here and help me out a bit. I think my strokes could use some work." She winked.

"Oh, anything to help, sugarbutt," he said with a wink, moving around behind her. "Practice makes perfect, they say." He stood behind her, placing his arms on hers, not able to pass up the opportunity to lay a handful of feather-light kisses on her bare neck merely inches away from his nose. Once he had kissed her enough for her breath to begin to quicken, he returned his attention to the pool table. If she wanted to tease, he could too.
"Now let’s see if we can work on your stroking."

Salida kept of purr of contentment in her throat as Jeffrey moved closer to her, his hand enveloping hers. He kept talking - most likely making more innuendos - but she ignored it and simply moved with him, taking in the heat of his body as if he were a very large and very heavy blanket. That smelled very good.

"Are you listening to me? Because if you'd rather concede defeat and end the game right here, I wouldn't say no," Jeffrey said with a smirk, resting his chin on her shoulder lightly. He couldn't pass up the opportunity to smell her hair as it tickled his nose. 'God, she smells good,' he thought, not knowing that her own thoughts were running along a similar path.

"No, I’m not listening to you. I'm using this as an excuse to both get close to you without making old men yell at us, and to distract you from your game." Having said that, she went on to sink three balls in quick succession, before missing the pocket on the fourth. She turned back to Jeffrey innocently. "But you must admit that it was fun."

Jeffrey couldn't hold back a laugh at that, no matter how much he tried. "Oh you're definitely right about that, you little vixen. I do believe I've met my match in manipulators." He placed a hand over his heart and continued on in a melodramatic voice. "Where have you been all of my life?" he said with a chuckle before turning back to the pool table and assessing the situation. Salida was ahead by one, having sunk three to his two. There were 10 balls left on the board, and he was losing. It's time to get messy, he thought to himself, lining up and sinking 4 balls in succession before scratching on the last shot. "Fuck," he muttered in dismay. He had been on a fucking role. "I guess it's your turn then," he muttered. The outcome to either side of the bet was a favorable one, but he didn't like to lose.

Salida didn't think she could manage to sink all four of her balls without missing a shot. She was good at geometry, and had been doing good so far, but how often did she play pool? Once a year? Maybe twice? Still, she didn't let any of her doubts show as she moved around the table, trying to decide on her first shot.

Despite her fears, she did alright for the first three shots, barely noticing as Jeffrey started to show agitation. She supposed she should worry about that - the man was at the very least psychopathic - but there would be time for that later. Right now she had to worry about the fact that her last ball was practically touching the eight ball . . . and the eight ball was less than an inch away from a pocket. If she didn't do this perfectly, she was going to lose.

Taking a deep breath and making sure that Jeffrey was nowhere near her - she didn't think he'd mind cheating to win - she closed her eyes briefly, then opened them to focus on the two balls. Carefully she drew her arm back, preparing hit the cue ball, then in a single swift, decisive motion, sent the ball flying.

When the eight ball went into the nearby pocket, and her last striped ball stopped an inch from its pocket, she collapsed facedown on the table, biting back curses and the angry groan that was fighting to be heard. She'd been beaten, but that was no reason to be any more put out than she had to be . . . especially since Jeffrey was bound to gloat.

Jeffrey couldn't stop a self-indulgent smirk from crossing his face as he saw Salida slump on the pool table, the game lost. "Shall we go then? I'd like to collect on my winnings," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, his pool cue still in hand, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Don't let it get you down, sugarbutt. You played a hell of a game. You just weren't quite good enough. But I'm more than sure you'll make up for it in other...areas." If his smirk got any larger, his face threatened to split in two.

"Fuck you," Salida muttered, not bothering to lift her face from the pool table. She hoped he didn't hear her, because she knew exactly what he would say, and while she didn't exactly dread the rest of the night, she was starting to regret letting him make the terms. Not that it would have mattered. He would have chosen that even if she had set her own terms.

"But I thought you said you didn't want to be arrested for public indecency? If you changed your mind..." Jeffrey trailed off with a laugh letting her know he was joking. "Let's get out of this fucking place."

With a sigh, Salida pushed herself upright. "Not much chance of that happening. Those two grumps would have interrupted us before anything interesting happened anyway," she muttered, clearly in a bad mood from losing.

"Aww, buck up little trooper. This night will be no fun if you're going to have a fucking rain cloud hanging over your head all evening, and I intend to have fun. You played, and well, and lost. Them's the breaks, darlin'," he drawled with a smile. "Don't let it get your panties in a fucking twist. That's my job," Jeffrey's smirk returned.

She glared at him, thinking about what she'd like to break, but decided he was right. She'd lost to him in pool, but that was no reason to admit premature defeat in other arenas. "Who says I'm wearing any?" she asked him as she went to collect her coat, smirking in triumph as she noticed him pause. She was of course, but just the thought that he'd be wondering about that was enough to return her to her previous good humor. It was time to get this party started.

Did she just say what I think she did? Jeffrey thought to himself as he watched her get her coat from where she had left on a nearby barstool, their booth having been taken by another young insipid-looking couple. Oh, I do indeed like this girl. "Let's get the fuck out of here," he said, making his way outside to Sands' Jag, not bothering to pay for their drinks. They were speeding out of the parking lot long before their waiter even noticed.