Monsters Under Mistletoe

2. Jake

Chapter 2

Jake

T he new 'office' in Seattle was an old building that used to be a swanky hotel in Pioneer Square. It had majestic sweeping ceilings with a crystal chandelier, crown molding, heavy oak and cedar furniture that looked like it had been reupholstered many times. There were a dozen rooms upstairs that would act as housing for the agents in training and the staff, while the office spaces on the ground floor were supposed to be set up to facilitate training. For all that the building was a gorgeous marvel of turn of the century architecture, it was also a decrepit mess.

A large garden area in the back was overgrown with blackberry bushes, roses and some kind vine to the point that I could only go a few feet before meeting a wall of the stuff. I had a call in to a landscaping company to come clear it out, then another to put down pavers so we could train back there.

The plumbing groaned and shook whenever someone used two sinks at the same time, or gods forbid, flushed the toilet while the shower was on. Some kind of oozing substance was on the wall of the laundry room on the far east side of the building, and there was a distinct scent of burning any time the furnace came on to heat the place. Which was often considering it was the middle of December and snow was in the forecast.

I'd come out early to get the place ready, and it was a good thing I had because there was no way we were ready to receive students at this point. My co-leader was supposed to be here today, but it was four hours past when she was supposed to land at Sea-Tac according to her email, so I suspected that inclement weather might've delayed her. It was two days after Christmas, so the holiday travel rush was still in full swing and that could've also been causing problems.

Which was not good considering I was currently stuck under a sink as I tried to fix a rather bad leak in the pipes, only to discover that it wasn't so much a leak as a section of pipe had rotted. My body was at an angle, with my head under the part of the under the sink cabinet that was somehow still solid as a rock so I couldn't bust out the side and get any leverage to push myself. The part of my body sticking out was from the waist down, and it was hard to get traction with my feet. At least I'd taken off my dress shirt so it wouldn't get dirty, but now my back was against damp, probably rotted, tile flooring and the wooden cabinet of the sink was currently scratching the hell out of my stomach and low back.

I pushed on the wall of the cabinet to try to dislodge my large body from the tight space and only succeeded in hurting myself.

"Damn it!" I yelled.

I used to be a field agent until a mission gone wrong cost my entire team. After that, I couldn't stand the thought of going out again. I thought my days at the archive were finished until the new director had asked me to come out here and help train the new agents. I wasn't sure I wanted it, but if I was being honest with myself, I wasn't fit for much else.

I tried to wiggle my way out of the space and the scratches on my shoulder opened up and stung. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation since it reminded me of that woman I'd met at the Christmas party a week ago. I was never one for relationships. My line of work really didn't lend itself to long-term anything. But there was a moment when I'd looked into her moss green eyes and thought that I could be talked into trying something like that with her.

But she was back in London, and I was here. We hadn't even exchanged names.

Because it was a fuck, nothing else. I'm getting sentimental in my old age.

"Hello?" a female voice called. "Is anyone here?"

"Yeah, hey, back here!" I screamed.

"What was that?"

"Back here!"

Her foot falls were getting closer, but then they stopped.

"Where are you?" she asked, closer now but not in the laundry room or she'd see me.

"Laundry room, to the back, south-east corner."

Her steps came closer and then there was a snorting laugh.

"Um...you okay?"

"No, I'm not fucking okay. Do I look okay?"

"Not even a little. Are you Jake Grims?"

"Yeah, who's asking?"

"Moira Dobbs, your knew co-leader."

"Great, can you get me out of here?"

She came over and the top part of the sink cabinet was blocking me from seeing much more than her legs in soft gray leggings and a pair of boots with fur at the top.

"You're wedged in, huh?"

"Yes," I replied, irritation thick.

"Hmmm...okay, do you have any butter or cooking oil?"

"Why, you gonna cook dinner?"

"Wow, you are grumpy."

"You would be too if you were stuck under this fucking sink with water dripping on your face."

"Good point. Where's the kitchen-- oh never mind, I see it. I'll be right back."

I waited, still trying to shimmy my way out, when she returned with a tin of Crisco that I must've been at least a decade old. When she took a big dollop of it on her fingers and reached forward toward where my stomach was wedged against the wooden door of the cabinet, I knew exactly what she had in mind.

I cringed and made a disgusted grunt in the back of my throat.

"I know, it's gonna feel icky, but it should work," she said.

I still really couldn't see her face, but the way she was kneeling down I could see a pair of very nice tits under a black sweater that hung a little askew on her shoulders.

She smeared the disgusting stuff on my stomach just above and above where the wood had me trapped, then did the same to my back. Her fingers were soft and insistent against my skin and it sent ripples of recognition through me. The sharpness of her red nails reminded me of that anonymous woman, and my dick stirred at the memory.

"Okay, try wiggling a little."

I did and felt the Crisco slide against my skin as I slowly slid out from under the cabinet. I rolled onto all fours and took a breath before climbing to my feet.

"Thanks," I said, my back to my new partner as I snagged a washcloth and wiped the Crisco from my stomach.

"It was nothing. Good thing you had..." her voice faded away as I turned around.

My heart jumped up into my throat and for a second, I thought maybe I was having another PTSD hallucination, but that was impossible because she'd helped me. There was physical proof she was real, but just in case, I poked her shoulder with a finger.

She stared at me, wide eyed, and lips parted. When I touched her, she squeaked and jumped back.

"Um...you're..." she started.

"I'm...Jake."

"Moira," she pointed at herself.

We stood there, gaping at one another for at least another minute, before her eyes skated down my torso and I realized I was still shirtless. A blush rose to her creamy skin like it had when I'd been watching her finger herself on that desk. The thought made my cock stir, and I turned away before she saw it.

I tried to wipe the grease off my back but couldn't really reach.

"Um...here, let me."

She took the washcloth and rinsed off in another sink, bringing it warm and soft to my back. her breath feathered across my skin as she cleaned me off and goose flesh pebbled on me.

"There," she said, tossing the washcloth in the other, working sink, "all clean."

I snagged my shirt off the nearby chair and started buttoning it up.

"This is unbelievable," she breathed, "I didn't...I mean I wasn't stalking you at the party."

I turned around with a confused frown.

"I never said you were."

"Right...okay. Because this," she gestured between us, "is a really weird coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidences. Do you?"

She swallowed, guilt flitting across her face.

"No."

My instincts fired and walked toward her slowly.

"Spill."

"What?"

"I can tell when someone isn't being honest or holding something back. So, what is it?"

She leaned against the wall and rubbed her fingers across her forehead like she was getting a headache.

"I borrowed an artifact the night of the party, just something to...get lucky with."

My eyebrows winged up.

"You roofied me with an artifact?"

"No! It doesn't override free will, just enhances desires. I got it from...a friend."

"Uh-huh, okay, but you're obviously thinking it might have something to do with this situation, aren't you?"

"Well yes! This is weird, right?"

I shrugged.

"I've seen weirder. Did the friend you borrowed it from neutralize it after you returned it?"

"Absolutely."

"Then this isn't the artifact."

"Sometimes neutralization doesn't negate the effects of an artifact on willing participants."

"Gods help me, you sound like a manual."

"What's wrong with knowing all the ins and outs? And besides, I wrote one of the manuals, so there."

Her pouty mouth was quirking up at the ends and I swear I was hypnotized by the sight. I'd actually dreamed of her mouth around my dick since that night. Now, here she was, and I should be angry about what she did, or at least report her. But I couldn't find it in me to be upset that she was here, in front of me. If it was an artifact, well, it was the first time one had done anything remotely good for me. And as much as I might've been reluctant to admit it, seeing her here was definitely good.

"You hungry?" I asked. "It was a long flight. You must be."

Moira's mouth opened and close, her eyebrows drew down in an adorably confusing frown.

"I mean... yeah but--."

"There's a pub around the corner that serves pretty good food. Come on, get your coat."

"Are you taking me out for dinner?"

"Well, it's a meal in the evening, so yeah."

She rolled her eyes and gave me a dazzling smile before walking out of the sad-looking laundry room ahead of me. The hem of her sweater hit just above her plump ass, which was hugged by her leggings in a way that made jealous. I traced the sway of her hips down the muscular line of her thighs and calves, all the way to her feet, hidden in those boots. She'd been wearing heels that night, showing off her legs to perfection, but even this warmer, more casual outfit couldn't hide how beautiful her body was.

We got out to the lobby, where her suitcases were piled near a seating area with heavy couches, intricately carved coffee tables and a few chairs were covered in dust clothes. The overhead lights in that part of the hotel weren't on, so it was cast half in shadow from the lights above the front desk area, where I stopped to grab my own coat and wallet.

"It's a bit creepy," she said, glancing around. "And beautiful all at the same time. Have you had the spectral investigators out to see if it's got any ghosts?"

"Not yet. It's on my long list of to-dos."

"I'll take half that list tomorrow and together we'll have this place ready for the agents in no time," she said with a bright tone in her voice.

"You're pretty optimistic, aren't you?" I asked as we stepped outside.

"Yes, and you're probably not, are you?"

"Not usually."

"Well, then I'd say we were perfectly matched," then she hurriedly added. "For the job, I mean."

I slid my gaze over to her as we walked the half block to the pub. She was flushed again, and her eyes were sparking as she gazed around Pioneer Square. It was very pretty this time of year, with all the white lights and every shop and pub decked out for the holidays.

We walked in silence, the surrounding streets not nearly as packed as they had been before the holiday. I usually felt the need to fill a silence like this, but walking beside Moira in her oversized coat and a floppy black knit hat on her mass of dark curls, I was relaxed. It was strange and nice after the stress of the last few days.

When we entered the pub, the sign said to seat ourselves and so we did, finding a booth in the back. We looked at the menu in silence, but I couldn't help glancing at her over my menu, catching her doing the same once. I was back in my mundane glamour, and I wondered which she preferred, this or my true Orc form?

Not that it mattered, of course. We were going to work together, and even if she wasn't my subordinate, I still wasn't sure it was a good idea to mix work and pleasure.

Such a shame too, because I would've loved to find out how long it would take her to come with my tongue in her pussy.

I shifted in my seat, my dick pressed against my zipper as the image of her splayed out on this table assaulted my senses.

When the waitress came by, we ordered and then there was nothing left to distract us.

Moira looked around, and I got the distinct impression she was trying to avoid me.

"This is awkward, isn't it?" I asked, desperate not to let us descend into strained silence.

"Yes," she said with an exhale. "I mean, I had such a good time with you that night and I wanted to say that, but then I worried it would be too forward and you just might want to forget all about it."

"Why would I want to forget it?"

"I don't know, because we have to work together, and this could complicate things."

"Only if we let it," I challenged, and let myself give her a crooked smile. "And I had a good time, too."

She flushed deeper and bit her bottom lip. I stifled a groan as my dick became even harder and was grateful for the distraction of our drinks arriving. Mine was a little over full and spilled over the edge. When we both reached for the napkin, our fingers met, charging the air between us. I didn't move my fingers right away, instead I let them linger for a second, relishing the soft heat of her touch.

"Were you a field agent?" she asked, withdrawing her hand.

"Yeah," I took a sip of my beer, "I was a team lead."

I usually stopped the story there, unwilling to open up the wound of losing my entire team. But I looked up into her bright eyes, and I somehow knew that she would understand my story, that I'd find empathy, not pity there. So, I told her about the mission, how it was supposed to be easy, a non-volatile artifact. And how it became a death trap in mere seconds.

"I don't know how I survived," I whispered, "but I did and I... I just couldn't stomach the thought of leading more people to their deaths. So, I asked for a transfer, and they sent me here."

"I'm sorry," she said, "I know what it's like to lose people on an op. It doesn't get easier."

"No, it doesn't. What about you? What's your story?"

The food arrived then, bringing a short pause to the conversation. Moira dug into her fish and chips with gusto, and I was relieved that she wasn't a salad with no dressing kind of woman.

"I had an accident on a mission," she said after a few minutes. "It caused damage to my back and... well, to be honest, I have flashbacks. Just the thought of going into the field makes me nauseous. So, I asked for a transfer too."

I grunted out a chuckle.

"They put two agents who wanted out of the field on training duty for the next generation of field agents. What were they thinking?"

"Maybe that we could give them a valuable perspective."

"Which is?"

She took a thoughtful bite of her food before answering, and I appreciated that she was taking this seriously.

"That bad things happen and what to do when they occur. That not everyone will make it back and if you do, you might not be the same. And that fact doesn't have to be the end."

I stared at her, the words lingering between us.

"You disagree?" she asked.

"No, I just...I never thought of it that way." I wiped my mouth and tossed my napkin down. "Honestly, I thought my career was just over. That being sent here was a pretty good indication that I was washed up and useless, but the way you describe our job...I guess it gives me hope that there's use for me yet."

"Of course there is," she said with a smile, head tilted to the side. "I mean, I understand the impulse. I felt very much the same until I stopped and thought about what I had to offer, what I might've wanted someone to say to me when I was training. I'm excited about the chance to help them, to make them into agents that might just survive long enough to retire."

"That's a tall order."

"Yeah, well, we've already established that I'm the optimist."

I chuckled at that, and we started talking about nothing and everything as we ate.

What books we liked to read, movies we watched, things on our Seattle bucket list. We didn't have a lot in common, but that just made her all the more interesting. By the time we finished, and I paid for our dinner, I felt as if I'd known Moira for much longer than just two interactions.

When we arrived back at the hotel, I helped Moira take her bags up to her room, which was down the hall from mine. I'd placed her there before I knew who she was, and now I wished that I'd put her closer to me.

All the rooms had been cleaned yesterday and there were fresh linens on the bed. The colors were a warm maple that went well with the burgundy wallpaper.

"This is nice," she said, her smile sending warmth through me.

"I'm glad."

We stood in the middle of the room, the ease we'd cultivated at dinner was now gone and I wasn't sure what to say.

"Um...the thermostat is touchy, the furnace is old and I've got someone coming out tomorrow to replace it, so if you're cold just add blankets."

"Right...okay."

We stared at each other, and I gave her a nervous grin.

"Well...if you need anything, I'm just down the hall."

"Okay, thanks."

I turned to go, cringing at how awkward I was being.

"Thanks for dinner," she said.

"Yeah...it was nice."

"It was."

I opened the door and looked back at her, that mouth of hers plump and pink, tempting me.

She's my co-worker, I can't...right?

"Good night Moira."

"Good night Jake."