Summary: Irina having escaped CIA custody decides to take a holiday from her life as a terrorist/criminal. She wants to see Jack again. It is five weeks after Panama. She has to find out. Did she still love him after all these years? Did he love her?
Rating: NC-17
IRINA’S DAY
By Lenafan
It was dark when she walked up to the door to Jack’s apartment. There were no lights on so probably Jack was still at work. She looked around and saw no one on the street or watching from next door. That apartment too was dark—or empty. Laughing softly to herself, Irina Derevko jimmied the lock with a pick and entered. She felt excited by the expected encounter.
Arvin and Sark thought she was in Cypress looking for property, but, instead, she had the pilot fly her to Rome, stating she would go on from there and he should return to Switzerland. He did not object and left her at the gate. Armed with new papers and identity, Irina walked into the main terminal and to a ticket counter where she purchased a round trip flight to Toronto. No one knew that she had a private plane and a pilot who had been on her payroll for several years. She pulled out her cell and made a call.
Now here she was…where she wanted to be. The night in Panama had been a revelation to her. The sex was better than she hoped and she knew that deep down inside he was still in love with her as she was with him. They had connected. That he planted a passive tracker on her didn’t matter. She knew he was smart and Jack now proved he was no fool. She had paid the penalty of betraying the CIA. Now she was about to betray Sloane, who she knew was no fool, but was so caught up in grief over the loss of Emily he would accept whatever Sark told him. Sark didn’t know either.
She laughed softly again as she waited for her eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. As they did, she could barely make out the sofa, chair, and television. The coffee table and two lamps on either side of the sofa were barely visible. The kitchen was small. She could see the refrigerator and stove. She opened the door and looked inside.
What she saw made her shake her head. Jack’s eating habits were not good.
Suddenly she heard a car door slam. She glanced around and saw a closet. The weather was comfortable so she guessed he didn’t have an umbrella or overcoat. She stepped inside just as a key was turning in the lock. It was dark, but she had a keen sense of hearing. She heard his footsteps and then the keys hitting the counter close by. The refrigerator door opened and then the freezer. She knew he was probably contemplating his choices, which were few.
Five minutes went by. She leaned back into the few articles of clothing hanging behind her. She sniffed softly. His smell was on them. She turned to the jacket, burying her face into the soft suede. A tear formed in one eye as she remembered how god damned good he smelled. Thoughts of their life together thirty years ago forged their way to the forefront of her mind.
There was a clink of glass on glass. He was pouring a drink. She licked her lips, thinking it would taste just as good to her. She was thirsty. She heard him heave a sigh and wondered what it was about...her or Sydney it could be either one. She listened as he walked by the closet down the hall. Minutes later, she heard the shower.
Stepping out of the closet, she pulled the gun from the waistband of her pants. This was the dangerous part. Irina knew Jack, Sydney, and the CIA were after her and Sloane. How committed was Jack at this moment. She walked to the doorway. He was in the shower. Steam billowed out into the small room. The drink was on the counter. She took a step inside, took the glass, and sipped at the liquor leaning against the door.
Minutes later, the shower door opened and she heard him step out. He began toweling himself off. In a minute, he’d be looking for the glass. Now he stepped into sight the towel wrapped around his waist. She smiled as he reached for the glass that wasn’t there.
“Hello Jack,” she said huskily.
Startled, he turned and the towel dropped. Her eyes took in everything. Other than some thickening around his waist, he looked wonderful. The hair on his body was turning into a mixture of dark and silver. It rather became him, she thought. The hair on his arms and legs also showed the same coloring.
“You took my drink,” he said in a matter of fact voice. It was as if he expected her. He reached for the robe behind the door.
“Don’t,” Irina said softly, still looking at him. “I’d like a truce, just for tonight.”
“What are you doing here,” he asked and she noticed his voice cracked a little as though he were trying to maintain his dignity in a rather awkward situation.
She straightened a little, “To see you. The thought of another twenty years without…” Irina smiled again. “I never forgot you…or Sydney,” she said licking her lips. “I’d like a truce. Tonight.”
She watched him stare at her. She knew he was calculating should he or shouldn’t he? All the passion and desire she once had with him came back. She knew he felt the same way. Time stopped for those few hours.
“I don’t see why not,” he answered.
Irina finished off the drink. “Then, come to the bed, Jack, and take off my clothes.” The last few words were whispered as she stepped back into the shadows toward the bed. She put the glass and gun down on the nightstand. There was small lamp and clock on it. She did not turn on the light. The moon was up and the light from it and the bathroom were all either needed.
They kissed. His mouth searched, exploring her mouth and tongue. She let him. She didn’t know how long they stood, kissing, but it felt so damn good.
“Kick off your shoes,” he ordered. She didn’t want to let go, but stepped back and did as he asked.
Now she felt his hands at her blouse, unbuttoning it, moving his mouth from her lips to that spot underneath her left ear, and then working his way around her jaw line to her neck. The blouse came off, but she hardly realized it. His hands fumbled at the back of her bra. He didn’t waste time. It fell to the floor on top of the blouse. She looked into his eyes. In the moonlight, she could see desire.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. She leaned forward a little and kissed him on the chest.
“I didn’t plan too,” he answered huskily.
He pushed her back. She felt his hands, those wonderful big hands cupping her breasts. She closed her eyes, feeling his thumbs and forefingers, massaging and rubbing her nipples. She felt the twinge between her legs. He took her lips again, but didn’t stop there. Instead, his lips kissed her again and again, moving down her lean muscular body toward the top of her pants. His hands unbuckled her belt. She moaned as he pulled her pants off, leaving her standing in only her red bikini panties. He drew them down her long legs, kissing her belly button and ending at the patch of dark hair between her legs that was already wet.
Her heart was pounding as waves of desire shattered Irina’s cool interior. She thought of nothing, but him. She was burning and needed him to give her release. He stood up and she felt him, knowing he was ready too, but he didn’t put her on the bed. He kissed both her breasts, sucking softly at first one then the other. His hands moved slowly over her back and buttocks, stroking and massaging. She squirmed.
“Jack,” Irina cried, her voice seemed to strangle on itself as she pleaded for him to finish. Her mouth opened to emit another soft moan.
“Irina, be patient. Remember, you came to me,” and he was right. She wanted him so desperately she flew eight thousand miles risking capture just for this moment. “We may have a truce. You and I may not see each other again, but I promise you that you won’t forget this night.”
Irina’s eyes reflected an instant of fear, but that disappeared as her body screamed for him to complete their coupling. “Jack, don’t wait too long.”
She felt his hands push her back onto the bed. She looked up as moonlight played across his face. His eyes took in everything: her, the bed, and the nightstand where her gun rested. She opened her legs, inviting him to take her. He kneeled, moving her right leg up and pushed himself inside. She lifted her other leg and for the briefest of moments, neither moved. She savored the feel of him and him of her.
“I love you, Jack,” she whispered. She reached down and gently squeezed his testicles.
“Are you sure,” he whispered, almost strangling on the words. She felt him thrust deeper inside and pull back, then thrust repeatedly. She moved. They were rocking the bed and she barely heard the headboard slam against the wall. He was grunting with exertion.
“Yes…yes…yes…f*uck me, Jack.” She could feel it coming, the orgasm, from deep inside and it was going to explode any second. He thrust again. “God, f*uck me!” She screamed as her orgasm exploded and she felt him come at the same time. She bucked again and again, keeping him with her.
Her body had a fine sheen of perspiration. Jack too! Neither cared. Irina, for some reason, thought about the first time she and Jack made love, a couple of months before they married. He had been so good then. For a moment, she thought she was twenty-two and he, a year older. Time stood still. She could not remember any time that they had not been good to each other the ten years they were married.
Jack pulled out and rolled over beside her. He sighed in satisfaction and relief. “I love you too,” he mumbled, sighing again, “that’s why I never…” and to her surprise was sound asleep.
“Never what, Jack?” She said. Irina couldn’t shake him. She turned her head to look at the clock. Ten o’clock. She reset the alarm for three. She reached down and pulled the sheet and blanket over them.
Irina awakened before the alarm went off. She picked up her gun and clothes. Jack was snoring softly. She showered quickly, dressed, and walked into the front of the apartment. From the sparsely stocked refrigerator, she took an apple. Biting into it, she opened the front door and stepped out into darkness. She had to walk a couple of blocks to where she parked the rental car.
That evening she returned to the house Sloane had rented. Of course, he was only slightly interested in her trip and asked if she had any success. She reported there was nothing they could use on Cypress.
“You didn’t have any trouble, did you?” Sark asked, staring at her.
“None,” she answered. “None at all.” She smiled.
Rating: NC-17
IRINA’S DAY
By Lenafan
It was dark when she walked up to the door to Jack’s apartment. There were no lights on so probably Jack was still at work. She looked around and saw no one on the street or watching from next door. That apartment too was dark—or empty. Laughing softly to herself, Irina Derevko jimmied the lock with a pick and entered. She felt excited by the expected encounter.
Arvin and Sark thought she was in Cypress looking for property, but, instead, she had the pilot fly her to Rome, stating she would go on from there and he should return to Switzerland. He did not object and left her at the gate. Armed with new papers and identity, Irina walked into the main terminal and to a ticket counter where she purchased a round trip flight to Toronto. No one knew that she had a private plane and a pilot who had been on her payroll for several years. She pulled out her cell and made a call.
Now here she was…where she wanted to be. The night in Panama had been a revelation to her. The sex was better than she hoped and she knew that deep down inside he was still in love with her as she was with him. They had connected. That he planted a passive tracker on her didn’t matter. She knew he was smart and Jack now proved he was no fool. She had paid the penalty of betraying the CIA. Now she was about to betray Sloane, who she knew was no fool, but was so caught up in grief over the loss of Emily he would accept whatever Sark told him. Sark didn’t know either.
She laughed softly again as she waited for her eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. As they did, she could barely make out the sofa, chair, and television. The coffee table and two lamps on either side of the sofa were barely visible. The kitchen was small. She could see the refrigerator and stove. She opened the door and looked inside.
What she saw made her shake her head. Jack’s eating habits were not good.
Suddenly she heard a car door slam. She glanced around and saw a closet. The weather was comfortable so she guessed he didn’t have an umbrella or overcoat. She stepped inside just as a key was turning in the lock. It was dark, but she had a keen sense of hearing. She heard his footsteps and then the keys hitting the counter close by. The refrigerator door opened and then the freezer. She knew he was probably contemplating his choices, which were few.
Five minutes went by. She leaned back into the few articles of clothing hanging behind her. She sniffed softly. His smell was on them. She turned to the jacket, burying her face into the soft suede. A tear formed in one eye as she remembered how god damned good he smelled. Thoughts of their life together thirty years ago forged their way to the forefront of her mind.
There was a clink of glass on glass. He was pouring a drink. She licked her lips, thinking it would taste just as good to her. She was thirsty. She heard him heave a sigh and wondered what it was about...her or Sydney it could be either one. She listened as he walked by the closet down the hall. Minutes later, she heard the shower.
Stepping out of the closet, she pulled the gun from the waistband of her pants. This was the dangerous part. Irina knew Jack, Sydney, and the CIA were after her and Sloane. How committed was Jack at this moment. She walked to the doorway. He was in the shower. Steam billowed out into the small room. The drink was on the counter. She took a step inside, took the glass, and sipped at the liquor leaning against the door.
Minutes later, the shower door opened and she heard him step out. He began toweling himself off. In a minute, he’d be looking for the glass. Now he stepped into sight the towel wrapped around his waist. She smiled as he reached for the glass that wasn’t there.
“Hello Jack,” she said huskily.
Startled, he turned and the towel dropped. Her eyes took in everything. Other than some thickening around his waist, he looked wonderful. The hair on his body was turning into a mixture of dark and silver. It rather became him, she thought. The hair on his arms and legs also showed the same coloring.
“You took my drink,” he said in a matter of fact voice. It was as if he expected her. He reached for the robe behind the door.
“Don’t,” Irina said softly, still looking at him. “I’d like a truce, just for tonight.”
“What are you doing here,” he asked and she noticed his voice cracked a little as though he were trying to maintain his dignity in a rather awkward situation.
She straightened a little, “To see you. The thought of another twenty years without…” Irina smiled again. “I never forgot you…or Sydney,” she said licking her lips. “I’d like a truce. Tonight.”
She watched him stare at her. She knew he was calculating should he or shouldn’t he? All the passion and desire she once had with him came back. She knew he felt the same way. Time stopped for those few hours.
“I don’t see why not,” he answered.
Irina finished off the drink. “Then, come to the bed, Jack, and take off my clothes.” The last few words were whispered as she stepped back into the shadows toward the bed. She put the glass and gun down on the nightstand. There was small lamp and clock on it. She did not turn on the light. The moon was up and the light from it and the bathroom were all either needed.
They kissed. His mouth searched, exploring her mouth and tongue. She let him. She didn’t know how long they stood, kissing, but it felt so damn good.
“Kick off your shoes,” he ordered. She didn’t want to let go, but stepped back and did as he asked.
Now she felt his hands at her blouse, unbuttoning it, moving his mouth from her lips to that spot underneath her left ear, and then working his way around her jaw line to her neck. The blouse came off, but she hardly realized it. His hands fumbled at the back of her bra. He didn’t waste time. It fell to the floor on top of the blouse. She looked into his eyes. In the moonlight, she could see desire.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. She leaned forward a little and kissed him on the chest.
“I didn’t plan too,” he answered huskily.
He pushed her back. She felt his hands, those wonderful big hands cupping her breasts. She closed her eyes, feeling his thumbs and forefingers, massaging and rubbing her nipples. She felt the twinge between her legs. He took her lips again, but didn’t stop there. Instead, his lips kissed her again and again, moving down her lean muscular body toward the top of her pants. His hands unbuckled her belt. She moaned as he pulled her pants off, leaving her standing in only her red bikini panties. He drew them down her long legs, kissing her belly button and ending at the patch of dark hair between her legs that was already wet.
Her heart was pounding as waves of desire shattered Irina’s cool interior. She thought of nothing, but him. She was burning and needed him to give her release. He stood up and she felt him, knowing he was ready too, but he didn’t put her on the bed. He kissed both her breasts, sucking softly at first one then the other. His hands moved slowly over her back and buttocks, stroking and massaging. She squirmed.
“Jack,” Irina cried, her voice seemed to strangle on itself as she pleaded for him to finish. Her mouth opened to emit another soft moan.
“Irina, be patient. Remember, you came to me,” and he was right. She wanted him so desperately she flew eight thousand miles risking capture just for this moment. “We may have a truce. You and I may not see each other again, but I promise you that you won’t forget this night.”
Irina’s eyes reflected an instant of fear, but that disappeared as her body screamed for him to complete their coupling. “Jack, don’t wait too long.”
She felt his hands push her back onto the bed. She looked up as moonlight played across his face. His eyes took in everything: her, the bed, and the nightstand where her gun rested. She opened her legs, inviting him to take her. He kneeled, moving her right leg up and pushed himself inside. She lifted her other leg and for the briefest of moments, neither moved. She savored the feel of him and him of her.
“I love you, Jack,” she whispered. She reached down and gently squeezed his testicles.
“Are you sure,” he whispered, almost strangling on the words. She felt him thrust deeper inside and pull back, then thrust repeatedly. She moved. They were rocking the bed and she barely heard the headboard slam against the wall. He was grunting with exertion.
“Yes…yes…yes…f*uck me, Jack.” She could feel it coming, the orgasm, from deep inside and it was going to explode any second. He thrust again. “God, f*uck me!” She screamed as her orgasm exploded and she felt him come at the same time. She bucked again and again, keeping him with her.
Her body had a fine sheen of perspiration. Jack too! Neither cared. Irina, for some reason, thought about the first time she and Jack made love, a couple of months before they married. He had been so good then. For a moment, she thought she was twenty-two and he, a year older. Time stood still. She could not remember any time that they had not been good to each other the ten years they were married.
Jack pulled out and rolled over beside her. He sighed in satisfaction and relief. “I love you too,” he mumbled, sighing again, “that’s why I never…” and to her surprise was sound asleep.
“Never what, Jack?” She said. Irina couldn’t shake him. She turned her head to look at the clock. Ten o’clock. She reset the alarm for three. She reached down and pulled the sheet and blanket over them.
Irina awakened before the alarm went off. She picked up her gun and clothes. Jack was snoring softly. She showered quickly, dressed, and walked into the front of the apartment. From the sparsely stocked refrigerator, she took an apple. Biting into it, she opened the front door and stepped out into darkness. She had to walk a couple of blocks to where she parked the rental car.
That evening she returned to the house Sloane had rented. Of course, he was only slightly interested in her trip and asked if she had any success. She reported there was nothing they could use on Cypress.
“You didn’t have any trouble, did you?” Sark asked, staring at her.
“None,” she answered. “None at all.” She smiled.