Tokio told herself she was *not* going to move as the very large, nasty looking cockroach skittered within centimeters of her shoes, which she was quite thankful, *weren’t* the open-toed variety that she preferred wearing in the summer, or she would have done far more than just think about moving. She would have taken a flying leap at the overhead light fixtures (or at Captain Saitoh) to get out of its way. Even though some of the residuals from the kill landed on the toe of one of her Mary Janes, she nodded her thanks to the tall officer who’d made sure the creature had seen its last day, sparing her from any further encounters of the cockroach kind. Oh, but didn’t these things travel in packs, she thought to herself. Ugh. No…wolves traveled in packs.
She was going to pretend she didn’t hear the rustling behind the waste can, no sense looking for trouble if you couldn’t see it. Besides, she had nothing to fear in the company of this man. He kept her safe around human vermin yesterday, so she was quite confident that he would protect her from the animal kind today.
Nope, she’d never worn this kind of armor before. He was right. All they gave her at the previous armory were second hand models, some even sporting holes to show how effective they *hadn’t* been when it came to protecting their former owners. The best stuff -for very good reason- was issued to the cops; attorneys were expendable. For some reason, she thought it best to keep that bit of info to herself. She hated to think there might be repercussions on her brother, Mori, since he was the one in charge of operations for the entire Yokohama branch of the DOJ, including arms and armaments.
The Captain was being so nice about this, not calling her an ‘ahou’ as some would have done to her for being so clueless and putting the thing on backwards. He was even trying to assure her there was no reason for her to be upset because of her mistake. His quip about ‘not fussing’ made her feel as though he was a mother hen tending to her chick. Again, she was sure -somehow- that he was granting *her* more leeway than he did to others.
The tugging and pulling began in earnest. Her tightly constricted breasts, already beginning to whine about the contraption, did not appreciate his attempts to extract them from the vest’s vise-like grip. Scrunching her eyes together, she tried to push back the thought that this wasn’t the first time *this* particular man had done some pulling and tugging on certain parts of her upper anatomy, and there was no flak jacket involved that time. Paling at her last thought, she realized that she could, finally, take the breath she’d been craving. The thing was still very tight, but now it shouldn’t cause any tender parts to bruise or ache.
Secretly, she was relieved that the blame for the disastrous fitting session lay with a wheezened geriatric case. That Saitoh was not pleased in the least with the old man’s sense of humor was easy to tell. Was that a protective nature poking to the surface of this stoic man? Again she felt like a vulnerable chick being shielded by its mother
She could feel his frustration at not being able to release her from her poly-Kevlar prison. The sensation of his fingers sliding across her skin, as he attempted to get a firm hold on the vest’s shoulder section, sent the mother of all shivers right down her back. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t pull away. She just dutifully obeyed his request that she raise her arms. He was trying his best to help her. She knew that, just as she knew he wasn’t trying to make her heart feel like it was going to beat right out of her chest. But that was exactly what happened, the instant his hand brushed her bare skin, just like at the diner yesterday. It was beyond her understanding how a man, virtually a stranger, could elicit such a response.
It warmed her heart when Saitoh had a murderous impulse toward the armory master.
“I think killing him would be too good for him…he needs to be locked in here to rot along with his garbage. You’re right. No one would ever find him. It smells so bad in here now, that no one would notice the aroma of a decaying cadaver.” She was usually more charitable with people, but this practical joker was toying with her life…*her* life.
The continuous tugging, yanking, and twisting seemed to produce results as she felt the vest rise over her head. With a gasp of horror, and a stiffening body, she realized that the vest wasn’t the only item headed toward the ceiling. Her sports bra was intent on keeping it company. How did those two items of body wear get so chummy that they just had to stick together now? But the most surprising thing was the gentle touch that pulled her errant bra back to where it belonged. He did it so naturally, without thought, as if he had done it so many times before…to her. She was shocked beyond words when she realized that it wasn’t what he *did* that bothered her; it was her response to it. It felt….so…normal.
Mentally kicking herself in the head, she reminded herself that the man had been married for who knew how many years. It was no stretch to think that a husband would be roped into helping his wife with some of the more annoying aspects of getting dressed or undressed, whichever might be the case. From personal experience she knew that some items of women’s clothing did not always cooperate when you tried to get them on or off. A little black dress with a cranky zipper sewn in the back came to mind.
That did it. She was now on sensory overload, especially when he pressed a reassuring hand to her bare back, telling her to be at ease, reminding her that his intentions were honorable before coaxing her to turn and face him. She was speechless, afraid to open her mouth, afraid of what she might admit. Here he was apologizing to her for his misstep, and she wanted to tell him…’oh..don’t worry…you are quite welcome to do that any time…you want.’ Whatever she was feeling towards him…about him..she couldn’t put into sensible thoughts or words…she just knew that she never wanted to…she just never wanted to what?
Their gazes locked, as he made adjustments to the vest he now held in his hands, slipping it back over her head when he was finished. Was there something to read in those amber eyes of his? Was her body temperatue rising? She was sure that he could see into her soul…a soul that seemed to be calling to him, for a reason that she was almost on the brink of understanding.
“Better?” he asked her. She could only respond with an affirmative nod. The darn thing fit like a glove. He wasn’t kidding when he told the old guy that he knew her measurements. That fact only caused her traitorous heart to keep hammering away at an even faster pace.
He was giving her instructions now, telling her to watch him carefully, which she did, before she followed his example adjusting her own armor to fit her contours. She really did need to know and remember how this contraption worked. He would not be with her every day to help her, or remind her about what to do. Why did she feel like that was a loss?
“Do you feel this?” he asked her as he took her hand, pressing it to his rib cage.
Now that he had taken her hand and pressed it to his side, she had to fight to concentrate on his words. It was *those* feelings again. Why did he do this to her? Most important was *how* did he do this to her? Was there really an intimate connection in their past? She shuddered at the thought as she tried to keep her composure. Were those her arms that were trembling?
‘Do I feel *what*?’ she asked herself, as he continued pressing her hand to his side. ‘Do I feel the flat planes of your stomach that I saw only a few minutes ago?’ Then, yes, I do. ‘Do I feel the warmth of your body under my hand, in spite of the poly-Kevlar gel in between us?’ Then, yes I do. ‘Do I feel myself beginning to believe that fantastic, unbelievable story you told me?’ Then, yes, I do, she answered to herself, honestly.
His emotional torture was not yet finished. She closed her eyes when he brushed stray hair behind her ear. He hesitated a moment before lightly trailing his fingers along her jaw and down her neck. His touch was unbelievably soft. It was warm; it was familiar. Again that feeling of belonging enveloped her in response to his gentle hand. How did he ever expect her to remember anything about electricity and poly-Kevlar when he was distracting her like this?
His warning of a few moments ago came back into focus now, his hand on her hair almost made her forget his cautionary words. She couldn’t help but feel…no…she couldn’t help but *know* that he was *not* talking to a mere colleague about personal safety…he was...it was…it was as if he was a husband speaking to his wife…the woman who held a special place in his life..
She remembered what he’d told her in his office…she’d all but dismissed him as someone on crack. She’d just brushed him off, thinking that he couldn’t possibly be serious about them being married so many years ago. The past had been -almost, but not quite, she began to realize- completely erased from her conscious mind.
She was beginning to suspect that the feelings she’d been having for the last 24 hours…weren’t just coming from nowhere… It seemed totally irrational…but she finally admitted to herself that they could be glimpses of a past she shared with him. Those images and feelings seemed to rush into her consciousness whenever he was nearby….or whenever he *touched* her…for even the most innocent reason as he did a few minutes ago, when his hands brushed between her shoulder and the vest as he tugged it off of her.
“One slip up, one mistake is all it takes and you’re gone. I would ask that you never put yourself, or those who care for you in such a position.”
His words made her heart ache for him, because she knew that he was speaking of Yaso, and what had happened to them…to their family. He must have loved Yaso so much. ‘Did he love me that way?’ The deep reaches of her mind asked in response to her conscious thoughts.
Her mind was still spinning when he activated her vest; then did the same for his own. As their armor folded them into the blue and white light…wrapping them in -what seemed to Tokio- ethereal arms from the past, she reached up with her delicate hands, gently cupping his face, smiling at him, trying to communicate without words that she… although not yet completely ready to tell *him*she was beginning to believe what he said about their past…did want to explore a future that included them, together. She felt connected to him, something she had never felt with anyone before. The two remained that way until the light surrounding them faded. Slowly she dropped her hands to her sides, desperately wanting to reposition them around his waist, but she resisted the urge. ‘No not yet,’ she said to herself.’ It’s not our time yet.’
no subject
She was going to pretend she didn’t hear the rustling behind the waste can, no sense looking for trouble if you couldn’t see it. Besides, she had nothing to fear in the company of this man. He kept her safe around human vermin yesterday, so she was quite confident that he would protect her from the animal kind today.
Nope, she’d never worn this kind of armor before. He was right. All they gave her at the previous armory were second hand models, some even sporting holes to show how effective they *hadn’t* been when it came to protecting their former owners. The best stuff -for very good reason- was issued to the cops; attorneys were expendable. For some reason, she thought it best to keep that bit of info to herself. She hated to think there might be repercussions on her brother, Mori, since he was the one in charge of operations for the entire Yokohama branch of the DOJ, including arms and armaments.
The Captain was being so nice about this, not calling her an ‘ahou’ as some would have done to her for being so clueless and putting the thing on backwards. He was even trying to assure her there was no reason for her to be upset because of her mistake. His quip about ‘not fussing’ made her feel as though he was a mother hen tending to her chick. Again, she was sure -somehow- that he was granting *her* more leeway than he did to others.
The tugging and pulling began in earnest. Her tightly constricted breasts, already beginning to whine about the contraption, did not appreciate his attempts to extract them from the vest’s vise-like grip. Scrunching her eyes together, she tried to push back the thought that this wasn’t the first time *this* particular man had done some pulling and tugging on certain parts of her upper anatomy, and there was no flak jacket involved that time. Paling at her last thought, she realized that she could, finally, take the breath she’d been craving. The thing was still very tight, but now it shouldn’t cause any tender parts to bruise or ache.
Secretly, she was relieved that the blame for the disastrous fitting session lay with a wheezened geriatric case. That Saitoh was not pleased in the least with the old man’s sense of humor was easy to tell. Was that a protective nature poking to the surface of this stoic man? Again she felt like a vulnerable chick being shielded by its mother
She could feel his frustration at not being able to release her from her poly-Kevlar prison. The sensation of his fingers sliding across her skin, as he attempted to get a firm hold on the vest’s shoulder section, sent the mother of all shivers right down her back. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t pull away. She just dutifully obeyed his request that she raise her arms. He was trying his best to help her. She knew that, just as she knew he wasn’t trying to make her heart feel like it was going to beat right out of her chest. But that was exactly what happened, the instant his hand brushed her bare skin, just like at the diner yesterday. It was beyond her understanding how a man, virtually a stranger, could elicit such a response.
It warmed her heart when Saitoh had a murderous impulse toward the armory master.
“I think killing him would be too good for him…he needs to be locked in here to rot along with his garbage. You’re right. No one would ever find him. It smells so bad in here now, that no one would notice the aroma of a decaying cadaver.” She was usually more charitable with people, but this practical joker was toying with her life…*her* life.
The continuous tugging, yanking, and twisting seemed to produce results as she felt the vest rise over her head. With a gasp of horror, and a stiffening body, she realized that the vest wasn’t the only item headed toward the ceiling. Her sports bra was intent on keeping it company. How did those two items of body wear get so chummy that they just had to stick together now?
But the most surprising thing was the gentle touch that pulled her errant bra back to where it belonged. He did it so naturally, without thought, as if he had done it so many times before…to her. She was shocked beyond words when she realized that it wasn’t what he *did* that bothered her; it was her response to it. It felt….so…normal.
Mentally kicking herself in the head, she reminded herself that the man had been married for who knew how many years. It was no stretch to think that a husband would be roped into helping his wife with some of the more annoying aspects of getting dressed or undressed, whichever might be the case. From personal experience she knew that some items of women’s clothing did not always cooperate when you tried to get them on or off. A little black dress with a cranky zipper sewn in the back came to mind.
That did it. She was now on sensory overload, especially when he pressed a reassuring hand to her bare back, telling her to be at ease, reminding her that his intentions were honorable before coaxing her to turn and face him. She was speechless, afraid to open her mouth, afraid of what she might admit. Here he was apologizing to her for his misstep, and she wanted to tell him…’oh..don’t worry…you are quite welcome to do that any time…you want.’ Whatever she was feeling towards him…about him..she couldn’t put into sensible thoughts or words…she just knew that she never wanted to…she just never wanted to what?
Their gazes locked, as he made adjustments to the vest he now held in his hands, slipping it back over her head when he was finished. Was there something to read in those amber eyes of his? Was her body temperatue rising? She was sure that he could see into her soul…a soul that seemed to be calling to him, for a reason that she was almost on the brink of understanding.
“Better?” he asked her. She could only respond with an affirmative nod. The darn thing fit like a glove. He wasn’t kidding when he told the old guy that he knew her measurements. That fact only caused her traitorous heart to keep hammering away at an even faster pace.
He was giving her instructions now, telling her to watch him carefully, which she did, before she followed his example adjusting her own armor to fit her contours. She really did need to know and remember how this contraption worked. He would not be with her every day to help her, or remind her about what to do. Why did she feel like that was a loss?
“Do you feel this?” he asked her as he took her hand, pressing it to his rib cage.
Now that he had taken her hand and pressed it to his side, she had to fight to concentrate on his words. It was *those* feelings again. Why did he do this to her? Most important was *how* did he do this to her? Was there really an intimate connection in their past? She shuddered at the thought as she tried to keep her composure. Were those her arms that were trembling?
‘Do I feel *what*?’ she asked herself, as he continued pressing her hand to his side. ‘Do I feel the flat planes of your stomach that I saw only a few minutes ago?’ Then, yes, I do. ‘Do I feel the warmth of your body under my hand, in spite of the poly-Kevlar gel in between us?’ Then, yes I do. ‘Do I feel myself beginning to believe that fantastic, unbelievable story you told me?’ Then, yes, I do, she answered to herself, honestly.
His emotional torture was not yet finished. She closed her eyes when he brushed stray hair behind her ear. He hesitated a moment before lightly trailing his fingers along her jaw and down her neck. His touch was unbelievably soft. It was warm; it was familiar. Again that feeling of belonging enveloped her in response to his gentle hand. How did he ever expect her to remember anything about electricity and poly-Kevlar when he was distracting her like this?
His warning of a few moments ago came back into focus now, his hand on her hair almost made her forget his cautionary words. She couldn’t help but feel…no…she couldn’t help but *know* that he was *not* talking to a mere colleague about personal safety…he was...it was…it was as if he was a husband speaking to his wife…the woman who held a special place in his life..
She remembered what he’d told her in his office…she’d all but dismissed him as someone on crack. She’d just brushed him off, thinking that he couldn’t possibly be serious about them being married so many years ago. The past had been -almost, but not quite, she began to realize- completely erased from her conscious mind.
She was beginning to suspect that the feelings she’d been having for the last 24 hours…weren’t just coming from nowhere… It seemed totally irrational…but she finally admitted to herself that they could be glimpses of a past she shared with him. Those images and feelings seemed to rush into her consciousness whenever he was nearby….or whenever he *touched* her…for even the most innocent reason as he did a few minutes ago, when his hands brushed between her shoulder and the vest as he tugged it off of her.
“One slip up, one mistake is all it takes and you’re gone. I would ask that you never put yourself, or those who care for you in such a position.”
His words made her heart ache for him, because she knew that he was speaking of Yaso, and what had happened to them…to their family. He must have loved Yaso so much. ‘Did he love me that way?’ The deep reaches of her mind asked in response to her conscious thoughts.
Her mind was still spinning when he activated her vest; then did the same for his own. As their armor folded them into the blue and white light…wrapping them in -what seemed to Tokio- ethereal arms from the past, she reached up with her delicate hands, gently cupping his face, smiling at him, trying to communicate without words that she… although not yet completely ready to tell *him*she was beginning to believe what he said about their past…did want to explore a future that included them, together. She felt connected to him, something she had never felt with anyone before. The two remained that way until the light surrounding them faded. Slowly she dropped her hands to her sides, desperately wanting to reposition them around his waist, but she resisted the urge. ‘No not yet,’ she said to herself.’ It’s not our time yet.’