Tonya Muir - Exposure Season 1

Kelsey laughs and shrugs her shoulders. I think she’s as reluctant to be alone as I am. It seems like we’ve been together forever and it will be strange to be apart. "Maybe we could find a gay bar," I suggest, pulling into traffic.

She gives me a withering look. "What in the hell would I want with a gay bar, Tabloid?"

"Hmm." I look to Olson through the rearview mirror and he appears suddenly interested in our conversation. "Good point," I say and wink at her.

She shakes her head but she’s smiling. Somewhere along the line we made a truce of sorts and I’m glad. I always liked her; it’s nice to have the feeling returned. Besides, it bodes well for my future plans that involve her naked and screaming.

"Maybe drinking and dancing?"

Kelsey shrugs slightly. "Sure."

* * *

When I come down the hall, dressed appropriately in jeans and a fresh denim shirt, Kelsey’s door is slightly open. I knock on it as I push it inwards. "Little Roo?"

"Come in," she calls from the bathroom and I do, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

I bounce on it slowly, testing the resiliency. Nice bed for a hotel, I muse.

Moments later, Kelsey emerges from the bathroom, pulling still damp hair back into a ponytail. She’s wearing jeans and a tight white shirt. She looks fabulous, though I admit to being biased.

"Okay?" she queries, looking for my approval. I nod.

"Better than okay, cher," I tease her, letting my Cajun come out.

She laughs, better able to take my bantering than before.

"You have a message," I tell her. Just now I’ve noticed the light on her phone is blinking.

Kelsey looks at me warily. "Is it from you?"

"Nope." I hold my hands up. "Not me." I scoot over so she can sit by the nightstand.

She listens to the message silently and angrily slaps the phone back into the cradle.

"Kels?"

She waves me off and returns to the bathroom. "I’ll be ready in a minute," she assures me but her voice sounds strained, like she’s on the verge of tears.

I jump to my feet but she’s already sealed herself into the smaller room. "Kels, come on. Is everything okay? I meant it when I said you could talk to me about anything."

"I’m fine." Her voice is muffled. "Give me a sec."

I know I shouldn’t. I know she deserves her privacy, but I’m worried about her. I also know she didn’t hit any buttons when she hung up the phone and I can probably retrieve whatever it was that sent her off in tears. I convince myself I’m doing it for her benefit and pick up the receiver, dialing the message retrieval number.

The voice on the recording is clipped and formal, sounding a bit like Kelsey did during our first meetings. It’s colder, though, than Kelsey’s tones could ever be.

"Kelsey, it’s your mother. I saw on the news you were in a bit of a mess with that silly job of yours. I just need to know if you can make that court date against your Father. It’s vital for my case that you be there. And if he calls, tell him to find his own damn witness. Let me know."

I’m stunned as I replace the receiver softly. That was her mother? Didn’t ask how she was or what happened? Didn’t appear to care that her daughter had nearly died? I’d spent a good twenty minutes trying to get my parents off the phone so I could shower, they’d been so worried about me and what they had seen. Kelsey’s mother didn’t care at all.

Suddenly, I feel sobered. I understand a little more about my partner and why she does some of the things she does. I wish I could show her what a family is supposed to be like; maybe I’ll take her home with me for Thanksgiving. Instead, I decide to show her what a friend can be.

"Little Roo." I knock on the door to the bathroom. "Let’s go turn this town upside down."

She’s quiet for a long time. "You listened, didn’t you." She sounds more relieved that I know than angry that I invaded her privacy.

There’s no reason to lie. "Fuck her, Kels. Come with me. She can stick her stupid court date up her tight ass and we’ll have fun without her."

Without a word, she opens the door and looks at me with slightly watery eyes. They’re bloodshot but I’m pretty sure it’s not from her recent tears and I feel a twinge of guilt again for the overspray.

I don’t say anything either, as I take her hand and tug her out of the hotel room. Omaha, here we come. Line dancing and cheap beer, sounds like a perfect night.

Scenes from Next Week’s Must Read TV:

<fade in>

When my brain decides it’s okay to function again, I become aware of several things at once. One, I am hung over. Not the "Please God, let me die" kind of hangover, but a "I can’t quite remember last night" kind of hangover.

<cut to>

One drink led to at least eight and that’s where the problems start.

<fade out>

When my brain decides it’s okay to function again, I become aware of several things at once. One, I am hung over. Not the "begging God to let you live" kind of hangover, but a "I can’t quite remember last night" kind of hangover.

Two, there is an incredible body spooned to my back and a strong arm draped over my waist. As I run my hand over that arm, I also realize we are both totally nude. My breath catches, forcing me to inhale.

I smell the rain and forest and sea and …

Oh my God!

Oh my God! No.

It can’t be.

I’d know that scent anywhere. Before I can roll over to confirm my suspicion, she stretches and her entire body goes taut against mine and it’s all I can do to keep from moaning aloud.

She relaxes and curls back around me. As she does, she murmurs something as she kisses my shoulder. My entire body shudders with pleasure and I know have to stop this. "Harper?" I manage to get out as I give her arm a little squeeze.

"Hmmm?"

Oh, Jesus, it is her.

"Harper… umm… wake up."

"No. No reason to get up. Day off." She sounds like a kid in the morning, her voice all petulant and sleepy.

I roll over in her arms and open my eyes. Oh yeah, it’s her. God, she looks sexy in the morning.

Now that my eyes are working I really should see how bad it is. I slowly lift the blankets. Oh yeah. Totally naked. Oh my, Harper, nice little navel ring there. That must be fun to play with. Stop it, Kels! But what a view! This should be illegal in most states.

No, no, I take that back. It IS illegal in most states.

Okay, Kels, why in the hell haven’t you moved yet? Could it be you don’t want to wake her because she is positively the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen? Or, maybe, just maybe, it’s because she’s been rubbing her entire body against you for the last few minutes?

I clear my throat just a little. "Harper?"

"Hmm?" Her head moves forward and she brushes her lips against mine.

Oh my God, I gotta stop and gotta stop right now.

I take the sheet and wrap it tightly around myself. I leave the blanket for Harper, which I have to straighten out (so to speak) over her before I lose all my will to get out of this bed. If any of her body parts remain on display, my resolve is toast.

As I sit on the edge of the bed, my mind swims, trying to put together everything that happened last night. We gave statements to the cops for forever. Then we dropped Jims off at the hotel, and Harper and I decided to go out to dinner. After dinner, we decided to blow off steam with some dancing and a drink or two. I seem to recall a country and western bar and line dancing. One or two drinks led to at least eight and that’s where the problems start.

I get up and move across the room toward the bathroom. On my way I pass the dresser mirror and stop. I look at my reflection and see the deep purple bruise on my neck. "Oh my God," I mumble as I run my fingers over it. "Okay, Kels, breathe, a hickey does not mean anything happened."

Slowly I open the sheet and inspect the rest of my body. Umm … well, now those marks probably mean a little more. Oh Lord, what did we do? It doesn’t quite feel like a morning after, but it sure looks like one.

I close up the sheet and begin looking around for my clothes. The first thing I find is Harper’s shirt. All the buttons are missing. "Did I do that?"

"Un-huh," a low voice agrees from the bed.

I look up. She’s awake now, leaning back on her elbows with a huge smile on her face and nothing at all on her chest. This is not helping my concentration.

"You bit the first two off then you just ripped it open."

"Oh please. I have never in my life bitten off a button. Let alone two."

"Well," she smirks lazily, "you did seem to find ripping them off far more satisfying."

"Harper." I rest my cheek in my hand as I lean against the doorframe to the bathroom. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Umm-hmm."

"Will you answer it honestly?"

"Umm-hmm."

"What happened?"

"You mean you don’t remember?" Her tone is teasing.

Oh, I just know I’m gonna choke on this next word. "No." Okay, I don’t need the laughter coming from the bed. I throw her shirt at her. "Go to hell."

"Ah, come on, Kels…" I hear her as I head into the bathroom. I need a shower. I close the door behind me, leaning against it and trying to rattle my brain into remembering anything. And I don’t know what my body is telling me, talk about mixed signals. Oh God, I can’t believe this is happening.

The knock on the door brings me back. "Leave me alone!"

"That’s not what you said last night."

"Fuck you."

"Yup, that’s what you said last night. See, Kels, it’s all coming back to you now."

"Harper, if you have a kind bone in your body, you’ll let me take a shower in peace."

"No problem." Her voice is subdued suddenly. "Could you hand me a robe first?"

I take the robe down from the hook and open the door. And gape.

I should have known she’d be naked; I just should have known it. I swallow hard and try not to look. Wonder if a prayer to be struck blind would do me any good? Because my damned eyes are certainly not obeying my brain’s command not to look. "Here." I shove the robe at her and close the door.

"Do you want breakfast? I’ll have room service send something up."

I don’t answer, assuming the question to be rhetorical. She’ll do what she wants, I imagine. God, what did she want to do last night? What did we do?

And what am I going to do now?

* * *

I am having a wonderful dream. I’m in Louisiana, staying at one of the old plantation houses, and the scent of magnolia is drifting in an open window. I’m in an upstairs bedroom, laying on a plump feather bed, being embraced by both its softness and a small body in front of me. She’s snuggled up against me tightly, leaving no room between our bodies, which is just fine with me. Her head is resting on my left arm and my other arm is thrown around her waist, under the fullness of her breasts. Her skin is soft and smooth and smells wonderful, even better than the flowers outside.

I feel her hand stroke my arm. It feels so good, so gentle. I stretch lazily, like my fat cat, and enjoy the feel of our skin sliding against one another. I kiss her shoulder. "Stay. Nice," I whisper. No need for this dream to end anytime soon.

"Harper?" My dream asks.

"Hmmm?"

"Harper … umm … wake up."

"No," I protest. This is too nice. "No reason to get up. Day off." I deserve one, especially after the last few days and the hostage situation. Surely, the world can continue on without me for awhile.

I relax again into sleep, letting it take me back without protest.

My dream girl turns in my arms, stirring me again. I fold my arms around her, pulling her close. She needs to learn to be still, enjoy the quiet of the morning. Instead, she’s plucking at the heirloom quilt covering our bodies and letting cool air hit warm skin.

"Harper?"

Honey, it’s early morning. Maybe she feels awkward here. I can fix that. I kiss her gently, enjoying the taste of her lips. It’s familiar, surprising me; I didn’t think I knew her, other than in a Biblical sense.

Then, my dream does the unexpected: she pulls away from me. I feel the sheet disappear and the quilt tucked tightly around my body. What’s going on here? This was supposed to be a nice dream.