Strictly Business [Closed] - Printable Version
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RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 02-09-2019
The fallout of meeting Darcias and that brief tense conversation with Drusilla left him with a knot in the pit of his stomach that continued to tighten for weeks on end. When he thought of her, of Julianna, he felt like the world was slipping out from under feet. Her friendliness with his own friends made him sick with jealousy.
Was she slipping away. The question ever on his mind. The question drive him crazy. He tried to seem aloof but he was tuned in when her phone would tinkle with a message, when she would leave work with obvious plans to go out, when she took a call and went out on the porch. Everything he didn't know was a stab in the heart. He took it so damn personally.
His anxiety left him often in brittle moods. He had one of those moods on the night he bloodied Kent's nose at the Halloween party. What did Kent expect anyway? Owen sent clear signals to his friends to leave her be in the romantic department. She was his even when she wasn't. That night was the height of his rabid jealousy.
It left him feeling entirely embarrassed. He agonized over what message he had sent her. That he was controlling. A stalker maybe. Violent. A bit unhinged. All the worst kind of signals.
Sophia was no longer the fun distraction she had once been. The vast gulf in the way he felt about Sophia and the way she felt about him was unfair and he knew it. He kept bandaging their relationship and kept it limping along. He couldn't say why. Hadn't Julianna basically admitted she wouldn't mind making a go at it with him? Wasn't that what he wanted?
Except he was more insecure with where he stood with her than ever. She was painfully professional with him. Her loyalty and dedication at work no longer had that rosy romantic feel that left him warm all over. Her professionalism spelled she wasn't interested. He supposed she was tired of him. He wouldn't know, it wasn't as if he'd made any passes at her.
However, as the holidays approached, things started to feel different again. They attended Thanksgiving at the Strafford's cabin in the mountains. Nothing bad happened except when he shattered a picture and bruised his shoulder doing sock slides on the wood floor with the kids. If anything the antics during the weekend at the cabin smoothed the tension their friend group and with her.
Then she asked his permission to decorate for the holidays. The way her tail twitched all mischievously intrigued him enough to encourage her to have at it. No limitations. He liked watching her throw herself into the activity. It had nothing whatsoever to do with his work and they both knew it but he paid her to turn his house into a winter wonderland. What she did with the house was no less than stunning, of course.
Maybe Thanksgiving and the decorations alone wouldn't have been enough to turn their ship around but she then bought him a coat. That could have easily fell within the lines of her job description. She had bought him clothes before. His entire wardrobe was essentially her doing. The coat though felt different. It felt more personal. It gave him a very puzzling sparkly-flighty feeling when he put it on.
The coat and that glittery garland she'd put all over the house was doing serious battle with his usual holiday blues. He could be such a sentimental doofus about that time of year. It always made him feel lonely and needy. Maybe she could tell. They were gentler with each other. Less professional again. He was soon wasting too much time in the morning chatting with her about Keiavan and the weekend and the news.
Everything was different again.
****
It was the second week in December and so much snow had fallen already that Owen had taken to driving a CAF issued Suburban equipped with snow tires. His usual ride was rendered near useless the weather had been so terrible. He drove the thing home on autopilot. His solo trip to base had left him with news of an implication that shocked him.A blast of frigid air greeted him in his daze when be opened the car door and braved the walkway to his house.
He was still hunched into his new coat over his uniform. He wore the collar high to cover his neck. Snow flurries were melting on his lapel as he walked through the house to find his assistant.
She was working in her usual spot. The breakfast nook. She'd made a mess of the space with papers spread out and all her pens in a pile. They were working furiously on a project handed down to him.
“Hey.” He slid into the booth across from her and folded his arms on the table in front of him. “So.” He drew the ‘s’ out too long. “You're the fanciest person I know.” He paused before adding quickly. “I mean that as a compliment.”
“Do you think...you could...do like a whole Miss Congeniality on me? Or maybe a Princess Diaries? You know a shitty to pretty kind of thing?” He rested his elbow on the table and dropped his cheek to his fist. His eyes twinkled with the joke.
“Because I was invited to the Officer's Ball this year.”
Not just anybody got invited. The ‘Officer's Ball’ was a bit of a misnomer for an event that not all officers were invited to. It was a gala for the who's who in the industry. The illusive CAF board members would be there, venture capitalists, the who's who in the weapons manufacturing industry, government officials, other military top brass. It was a big deal and an invitation signaled a young officer's rise.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 02-18-2019
To be honest, Drusilla didn't know what to make of the situation between them. It was true that things has returned to normal. She wasn't entirely sure what normal was between them, but they were...comfortable. Just not quite as comfortable as they had been before. Which was, Drusilla thought, for the best. Ears twitched to the sound of the front door opening. Sophia had been away from a few days, but Drusilla already knew it was Owen from the rumbling of the overlarge vehicle he was driving now, and the cadence of his steps across the tile as he made his was to the kitchen.
She considered not looking up at him when he appeared. She considered many things these days. Would acknowledging him immediately make her seem too eager? They both knew she knew he was there, and her pen had stopped moving across the pages of her planner. Ears rotated to high attention as she glanced up at him. The sight of him made her heart ache, and it was becoming a sensation that was too much to bear. Slowly melting snow glistened in his hair and across his shoulders covered in the coat she had bought him. Since it was warm and cozy inside the house, and she'd had no reason to leave, Drusilla wore a knee-length and form fitting dress. It featured a velvety blue material and a square neckline that showed off her collarbones. A thin, decorative black belt drew attention to her waist and matched her suede pumps.
"Hello," she replied, cooly, ears falling off either side of her head as he sat across from her. She could tell he wanted something. Her brow furrowed, then smoothed again as he went through the opening lines of his request. She left all of her various work accoutrement on the table between them. As if she didn't want to create any space for them to be closer than they were. He leaned forward, and she sat up straighter. Her ears came up again and she cocked her head as he slowly described what he wanted her to do.
"Oh," she murmured piecing his request together. "Oh!" She said, again, realizing what an invitation to the Officer's Ball meant. "That's so exciting." She flipped to an empty page in one of her notebooks that she pulled closer, and pulled the fountain pen she always used for him out of the pile. The dark blue ink flowed smoothly as her delicate handwriting titled the page Officer's Ball.
"So, what exactly did you have in mind? We will need to get you fitted for a new tuxedo obviously." This became her first bullet point. "What do you need to know?"
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 02-20-2019
Owen cocked his head to better see what she was writing on the page in her practiced hand. The pen swirled with the motions of her hand as she drew out her typical elegant script. The line of his gaze moved upwards from her hand to her bare arms and the dark fabric that clung at her shoulders. The tell-tale sheen on the fabric spelled velvet. His gaze naturally moved to the hollow of her neck right where her exposed collarbones were directing his eyes. Her throat moved when she spoke and he realized she was asking him something. He delayed in answering, shrugging out of his coat to cover for the fact that he tuned out of reality for a moment. “Last two years guest lists matched with photos and a one-sentence description. Memorized. I’m sure that won’t be a problem for you.” He gestured dismissively. “I’ll need you around to whisper in my ear who everyone is because fuck if I can remember.”
“Tux, you already said that. You need something to wear.” He ticked two fingers off. Owen was delaying by listing off these two useless and obvious items. Stalling before having to admit what he was really worried about. “I need to learn how to dance.” He glossed over his main item and moved quickly on to something else. “And we’ll have to rent some kind of town car or limo service because you can’t just drive to the thing. You have to arrive.”
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 03-03-2019
Julianna nodded and hummed thoughtfully as she documented the things he said on her little to-do list. As well as some other details that popped into her head as he spoke. She stopped writing when he mentioned a tux again, and pointed out that she would need something to wear. A silly thing to mention, as if it would be difficult for her of all people to look the part. She looked up at him. Her left ear twitched as she waited silently for him to get to a point he was avoiding. Ah, of course. Dancing.
"Would you like me to arrange lessons for you and Ms. Kingston? I could research public studios or perhapds find you a qualified private teacher." Her attention quickly dropped away from him and back to the notebook. Her tone somehow becoming more professional. "I will also arrange a fitting for her at a lovely boutique in town. If you have no preference for color, I will allow Ms. Kingston to choose." She concluded her notes with 'transportation' written sharply at the bottom. "Is there anything else?" Julianna sat straight, stiff as a board and she looked more annoyed that she did queenly. She checked her watch. The blue band matched her dress. "Have you eaten?"
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 03-10-2019
“No, no, no, no.” A quick succession of clipped words were spoken over Drusilla's suggestions for fittings and dancing lessons. Owen shook his head. “That's not - this is not - I thought you could just-” He paused in speaking over her to let her finish. “To be honest, I’m not sure if she’s going. She may have to work that night.” He shrugged. That was wishful thinking.
Truth was he hadn't told her. He wanted to find a way out of having Sophia there.
“This is going to be about work, not -” He stopped himself from saying ‘romancing Sophia’ knowing how awful that would have sounded. "Sophia knows not to expect much from me that night, if she goes." A bold faced lie.
Ignoring her question as to his nutritional status, Owen explained. “The Madame Commander will be there. Rumor has it she likes to have a dance with some of the younger officers.” Owen leaned back and rolled his eyes. “I want to make a good impression. That's all. I figured you know what you're doing, right? Some pointers is probably all I need. We could just do it here.”
He folded his arms defensively over his chest. “And, no. I have not eaten.”
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 03-15-2019
Drusilla finished speaking, and Owen discontinue trying to cut her off in unison. She exhaled sharply through her nose, and there was a silence for a moment. Her ears were standing at attention, but swiveled towards the side, which was a general sign of annoyance from her. She had gone and pissed herself off thinking about Owen going to the ball with Sophia. He'd look so dashing in a tailored suit. It wasn't that Sophia's beauty wouldn't complement him, it's just that Drusilla would very obviously like to attend as more than just his assistant.
"Well, I don't want to wait until the last minute to find out if she's going." Drusilla spoke very matter-of-fact. Her fingers reached for the pen she had abandoned and toyed with it idly. Turning it over between her fingers. Fidgeting was unusual for her. The diamonds in the face of her matching watch shone in the kitchen light. "These things take time to plan." She looked away from him and down to her fiddling hand.
As quickly as it began the extra movements stopped and she looked at him again. The pen dropped back from the table. "You haven't told Sophia," she accused. Which was quite bold of her. She was making an assumption that he was keeping Sophia out of it because of whatever was going on with them. Which at present, was nothing. She worked for him, and that was the end of it.
"Fine. I have time to show you a few things." She stood. "A basic waltz will get you through the night. If you pick it up well enough perhaps I'll teach you something else." Dusilla sauntered towards the living room without waiting for his confirmation. She inhaled deeply, willing herself to be professional even though she was aware that this lesson would have them closer than they had been in a while. Closer, than they really should have been given their circumstances.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 03-26-2019
Owen’s hands fell away from his chest. One brow arched higher before falling back into place. He was somewhat surprised at her insistent pushback. And in a way… flattered. However veiled in feline agitation, there was evidence of her preference for him. Why was he continually surprised by signs of that preference?“Alright.” He conceded gently, although he didn’t specify how he would address her complaints. Statuesque, he folded his hands in front of him on the table and watched her fidget. She was nervous movement. He was motionless.
A frown fell over his face like a curtain when she accused him. He opened his mouth and a vowel fell out. “I--” he closed his mouth again. She called his bluff. He had no answer. No excuse.
He was left alone in the booth when she got up. He stared daggers at her blue velvet bottom as she walked into the other room. The tip of her tail was the last thing he saw as she turned the corner. He let out a frustrated scoff.
Before he joined her in the other room, Owen poured himself a drink. He couldn’t be expected to dance with anyone, especially her, without loosening his inhibitions a smidge. He brought his square-shaped glass and a bottle and set them on the fireplace mantle that overlooked living room.
He gave her a long look and swallowed his pride. "Maybe I would rather take you.”
He dropped a little bomb and then moved into the center of the room to pick up the coffee table and clear floorspace. He turned and brandished his hands at the room indicating that the space would have to do for their lesson.
He then moved back to the safety of his alcohol. He took his glass and frowned down into it before swallowing a gulp.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 03-29-2019
Drusilla waited for him to join her in the living area. Tail twitching too and fro in waves that matched the roil of her emotions. She couldn't settled on thrill or dread. She longed to have his hands on her and simultaneously wanted to keep him at a distance. Her shoulders felt tight. Her ears fell off the side of her head as she turned to face him when he appeared in the space. They stared at each other for what seemed like ages as he sipped the amber liquid pensively.
He'd rather take her...
Ears sprang to attention and her face softened. It was a bomb of a statement, but she recovered quickly. "I will be attending as your assistant," she reminded him. "Strictly professional."
Owen rearranged the room, and she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. The soft velvet did nothing to calm her nerves. He returned to his drink and she gestured for him to put it down. "Here," she ordered, making motions to the space directly in front of her. "When you approach a partner to dance, you offer your arm. Not your hand." She demonstrated by holding her arm cocked at an angle, in such a way that was universally recognizable as an invitation.
"You must be very conscious of where you put your hands," she continued. Drusilla stepped closer to Owen. She felt hesitant, but it was not apparent in her movements. She directed one of his arms around her back, settling his hand just below her shoulder. "Here." She moved his hand bit further down, to the small of her back. "To here. No further, unless you're a pervert." This was meant to be a joke, but her tone was too bland for it to register.
Placing one hand on his shoulder, she used her free hand to hold his remaining one. Mimicking the perfect stance of a waltz. "Are you following?" she asked, even though they had no gotten to the more difficult parts of the lesson. Looking up at him, she thought that he should have been too tall for her. That they should not have fit together as well as they did, even with the benefit of her heels. They were just standing there now, holding each other, as she waited for him to indicate that he was ready to continue.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 03-30-2019
Encouragement flashed in him like a spark in pitch black. And then it was gone again with the return of her staunch professionalism. The rejection stung painfully. He was left feeling stupid for having waved his feelings around like a banner for a moment. He acquiesced to the beginning of the lesson, forcing himself to focus on the information she taught to take his mind off what he had said to her and the way she'd responded.
She guided his hand to her back and he felt the soft fabric of her dress. The frost of that recent rejection melted as she guided his hand down her back. The ache of longing coursed through him as his heart took up a faster rhythm. Though softening on the inside, every one of his muscles remained tense and stiff. He stared at her ears while he took in the lesson. Easier than looking in her eyes.
He must have looked like he wasn't paying attention. He figured his blank expression was why she was asking if he was following along.
“Give a girl an elbow. Don't get handsy.” He distilled her instructions into his own more harsh, but purely Owen interpretation.
“I've got it.” He said as his eyes drifted down to hers. He seemed to come back into himself.
As if demonstrating that he understood where he was allowed to touch, he moved his hand up her spine to its original placement and down again to the lowest acceptable point. Except his touch was less purely demonstrative and more a caress, more a smoothing of the velvet beneath his palm and a tracing of the curve of her spine. If the gesture said anything it was that it wasn't where one touched but how that made the difference.
“What next?”
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 04-07-2019
Drusilla knew she had wounded him. A rare moment of vulnerability and she had shot him down. She didn't feel like she was wrong though. She didn't know how much longer she could keep clinging to her feelings for a man that wasn't ready to move forward with her. He hid behind his relationship with Sophia to avoid any real commitment. If he was going to use the other woman like a barrier, Drusilla was going to yield to it. He acquiesced to her moving him around easily enough. Owen allowed her to guide him, but it was kind of like trying to move a robot. "Relax," she said gently. She squeezed his shoulder, focusing on the badge pinned to his chest. "You're all tensed up. Don't be nervous. It's easy." She didn't have much room to talk. Her nerves endings had gone all tingly since he had put his hands on her. Case in point, he smoothed his hand over her back and her tail fluffed up. Ears twitching rapidly, she cleared her throat. "Yes, you seem to have that part under control."
"Next comes the dancing." She leaned forward to push her knee in between his. It brought them closer for a moment and forced him to widen his stance. The fabric of his uniform was soft against her bare leg. She stepped back to her original position. "Follow me," she instructed, taking a step backwards. "We're essentially just going to go in a fancy circle." She stepped to the left. "Personally I prefer a nice Viennese Waltz, but this will do for now." She wasn't looking at him now, watching their feet as the moved slowly around the living room.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 04-11-2019
Owen rolled his shoulders a couple of times to shake out the tension. Or at least look like he was making an effort to. “I am relaxed.” He insisted though it was obvious that neither of them were. Inside him were the butterflies of excitement of being close with his...crush.
For lack of a better word.
He hated to think of her that way. It was so sophomoric.
He gazed down the length of their bodies at her knee scooting his legs apart. He shifted his stance wider. He would have preferred being the one putting his knee between her legs. But here they were -- dancing. A close second to what he would rather have been doing.
There was an involuntary smirk of amusement on his face as she led him in the steps of the dance. With her head tilted down watching their feet, he was left half-grinning at the crown of her head and the tops of her ears.
He caught their reflection in the black screen of his television. Although he had intuitive sense of what his feet needed to be doing, he nonetheless looked like a lumbering gorilla stuffed into a fancy uniform. And she was the soft dame caught in the grasp of King Kong. “I look so stupid.”
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 05-08-2019
Drusilla wasn't paying attention. She didn't see what he saw until he said something. She looked up and followed his line of sight. "You look handsome," she said, in earnest. She thought they looked charming together. He was so tall and broad and she looked fragile and lithe in his arms. Moving in unison, so close together like he was protecting her from something. "You always look nice in your uniform," she continued. "It suits you."
While she was speaking, she changed directions. She was no longer leading the dance, moving backwards with him and forcing him to take control. Her ears twitched on top of her head, and she smoothed her hand up and down his arm. Trying to reassure him. "You will look great in your tux, too. I am thinking Sophia would look very nice in a wine red color." She continued to take him through the steps, a pleasant melody running through her head and timing the movements. "You will look perfect together. You will impress everyone."
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 05-09-2019
Owen looked away from their reflection when she contradicted him. She wasn't arguing but merely telling him how she saw him. Her version was convincing. He was easily swayed by her gentle encouragement and her touch. He accepted the lead in their dancing, moving her to the pace she had already established. Where she heard some melody in her mind, he counted methodically. The classically trained musical part of his brain activated in the background counting measures of music unheard.
Her compliments continued but switched to the subject of Owen and Sophia as a unit. He wished she wouldn't mention it. He wished she would stop saying Sophia's name to him.
She was looking somewhere at the level of his collar when he responded, “You would look good in blue. Maybe something satin. Luxurious.” He separated their hands that were clasped together so formally, but otherwise kept their dance going. He brushed his freed hand over her shoulder, the back of his knuckles touched the side of her neck. “Off shoulder.” He gathered some curls in his hand and swept them all to one side and cocked his head as if he had a clear vision of what she would look like. As if he already put a fair bit of thought into it. “Like that.”
The rhythm dropped from his mind and he interrupted their dance. He stared down at her for a moment. Green eyes and a classic red lip looked up at him. She seemed expectant. Or taken off guard by his remarks.
His lips parted and he unthinkingly bent down in a sudden motion and pressed his mouth to hers. The tension he had been holding in his body seemed to release the moment he kissed her. His hand at her lower back pressed her forward into him. The hand in her hair swept around her shoulders trapping her against his front.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 05-11-2019
Blue.
How easily that color had come to have some secret meaning between them. She had once told him that he looked good in blue, and that he was blue to her. It was as if he was saying they would look good together. Or was she imagining a meaning that wasn't there?
Desperate. She scolded herself as they danced. Her gaze focusing on the topmost button of his uniform. If she was going to be forced to go to the Officer's Ball and watch him make nice with all the general's with another woman on his arm, she was going to wear blue.
She looked up at him as their dance came to a slow halt. No longer taking steps, they mostly swayed together as he kept one hand on her waist. The other moved to her hair. Those brief touches, grazing her neck and her shoulder set her skin on fire.
Julianna had not expected him to kiss her. Though, when it happened she felt as if she could have predicted it. Weren't all the signs there. How close they had become over the tenure of her employ with him. She felt him melt against her as that nervous tension flooded away from him. She lifted up on her toes and her hands moved to his face. Encouraging. Begging him not to pull away as her mouth opened to deepen the kiss. He responded by pulling her closer, engulfing her in an embrace.
While she never expected it to happen, Julianna knew from that moment she would never want to stop kissing him. Which was exactly when the phone in his office started ringing.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 05-27-2019
He wasn't sure what he expected from the kiss. More hesitancy? Or maybe that she would just stand there and tolerate him. The way she eagerly reached for him, lips parting for him was more than he could have hoped for.He breathed her in smoothing his hand over her lower back. His pinky and ring fingers felt the soft fur at the base of her tail as he tasted her mouth.
Then the phone rang.
It seemed for a moment as if he didn't hear it. Or wouldn't respond. He waited until the middle of the third full ring before he broke the kiss. His arm left her shoulders as he briefly glanced at his watch. Still technically business hours.
“I have to get that.” He said breathlessly. He wasn't quick to pull away, seeming to linger with his hand pressing her into him a moment longer. Once he broke contact he was off in a trot to his office with long-legged, brisk strides.
Arriving at the back of his desk, he snatched the phone from the receiver.
“Lieutenant Colonel Hart.” His greeting sounded breathless from the combination of the kiss and his rush to the phone.
He glanced over his shoulder. She hadn't followed and he didn't have an angle to the living room. Just the hallway wall.
What was she thinking? Was she mortified?