When Tomorrow Comes

by Pic

Rated: A

Pairing: KTG - Dustin Yarma/OFC - het relationship

Summary: Dustin has to come to terms with the future

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters aren't mine.

Author's Notes: This list is to blame for this story - without it - it wouldn't have had a home (and more than likely wouldn't have been written).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today - The house

My life had gone to hell in just a few weeks. Girlfriend threw me over for another guy, the same guy who moved in on my idea for a TV movie and ran with it. Minnow. The bane of my existence. He calls himself my conscience, but I don't need another one. My own shows me the girl I hit with a champagne bottle at very regular intervals. Far too regular for me to be completely sane. But, hey, who is in this town?

Time heals all wounds. Somebody far wiser than me said that and someone with more foresight than I'll ever dream of having wrote it down. It's been almost two years since my life spiraled out of control. Hard to believe, really. That it's been that long. That things have worked out like they have. Or haven't.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Four months prior - The office

"Dustin, Kirsten McCall is here to see you."

Looking up from a very average screenplay, Dustin nodded at his assistant. Suzanne had become more and more of a partner as he'd slowly and carefully pieced his professional life back together after Minnow had torn it apart and flung it to the four winds. Relying on someone else was a learned behavior for Dustin; he still wasn't very good at it. Tabling pointless self-analysis, Dustin asked, "Did you ever find out what she wants to pitch?"

With an eloquent shrug, Suzanne replied, "She isn't saying. Her people aren't either. Even the rumor mill is silent. Death and Taxes is all anyone knows anything about and that's a done deal."

"I'm curious. That I'll admit. Send her in."

"You have lunch with Drew at 1:00 pm. Her agent says she's very excited about Female Facts."

"Karl says she's too young," Dustin observed offhandedly. When he caught Suzanne's look, he smiled. "I know she isn't. I'll bring him around. You worry too much."

"Maybe. Just don't be late."

"I won't."

Not thirty seconds after his office door had closed, it reopened to admit one of the hottest female directors in film. Bold and beautiful in juxtaposition with brash and borderline belligerent, Kirsten McCall had gotten the reputation of being a ball buster. That rep was difficult to reconcile with the smiling, casually dressed brunette who approached his desk with her right hand extended, but appearances lied. Dustin knew that as well as anyone.

"Hello, Dustin. Thank you for seeing me."

Firm handshake. Pretty eyes. Deliberately not checking out the rest of the package, Yarma considered how he should play this. They hadn't met, so he opted for formal. "Ms. McCall, I --"

"Kirsten."

Her interruption was firm but not insultingly so. Dustin nodded and tried again. "Kirsten, just so you know, I don't have a lot of time and I have no idea why you're here."

"Understood. I'll be brief. It's about Death and Taxes."

Yarma was confused. Dreamworks had that locked; everyone knew that. Yet his instincts were telling him to pay attention. "What about it?" he prompted.

"Creative control."

Ah. "Whose thumb are you under?"

"Don't ask. But make that was under. I pulled it. You interested?"

They were both still standing, so Dustin gestured toward a plush guest chair and waited for Kirsten to sit before settling himself back behind his desk. Politeness, in this case, was calculated. He'd bought himself a few moments to think about her offer. "The studio would certainly-."

"I don't give a shit about the studio. I'm looking for a producer." "Why me?"

"Why not? You put your name behind it; it gets made. Everything you touch is gold - has been since that ridiculous shipwreck in tropical paradise thing."

That was true. He'd shut down for a while after the "incident." When he'd poked his head out of self-imposed exile and no one had bitten it off, Dustin had thrown himself into work. His shrink kept telling him that he was trying to prove himself. Dustin knew better. Work was all he had that was safe from Minnow. The bum-turned-blackmailer- turned-producer didn't like it. Dabbling with Dustin's ideas, charming actresses and hanging around sets until he tired of them was one thing. The day-to-day grind of sifting through treatments and hustling new deals was quite another. Minnow hated it. He was on the studio payroll, but did as little as it was possible to do to remain there. Truth be told, Dustin had encouraged Minnow to focus on the winner everyone thought they put together as a team. That had kept Minnow occupied and allowed Dustin to distance himself from the project and explore other things. He had, enjoying an unprecedented run of luck. Minnow had been left in his wake. Recently, Minnow had started making "team" noises again. Dustin had ignored him.

"Dustin?"

Coming back to himself, he blushed slightly and muttered, "I'm sorry. I ah lost my train of thought."

"What's her name?"

Kirsten was smiling indulgently at him, and Dustin struggled to figure out what she meant. "Who?"

"Whoever distracted you from my well-thought-out and repeatedly rehearsed compliment."

He raised an eyebrow before deciding to ignore her supposition. "You want me to produce Death and Taxes?" After she nodded, eyes twinkling a little at what she probably thought was an evasion on his part, he proceeded, "When are you scheduled to shoot?"

"Three weeks."

"Late to be switching horses, Kirsten."

She seemed surprised by his soft-spoken observation but recovered quickly. "If I want something that isn't candy coated or watered down beyond recognition, I've got to move it." The mounting frustration of a highly creative woman was evident in her tense question. "What do you say, Dustin?"

He grinned. "What kind of deal did you have in mind?"

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Ten weeks later - The set

"Boss man," Kirsten McCall's assistant stage whispered when Dustin Yarma strolled onto the Death and Taxes set.

Kirsten sighed and announced, "Give me a minute, people."

The well-dressed man watched Kirsten approach and quietly noted, "You didn't have to do that. I'm just looking in to make sure you aren't embarrassing me."

She stopped a pace from him and whispered, "What embarrasses you, Dustin?"

He blinked twice, trying to interpret her ambiguous tone. Giving up, he chuckled and offered, "A lot of things. Stilted acting. Contrived story lines. Uppity directors. You know, the typical laments."

"I see," she murmured, measuring him with critical eye. Unexpectedly, Kirsten took a step forward and placed a hand on his chest lightly. "Electric blue suits you. Keeps that black suit from being too relentless. Going to a funeral from here?"

"A funeral? No, that would definitely be a white shirt event. I am the bearer of bad news though." Seeing her wince, he hastily added, "For someone else, not you."

"My PA thinks you're a hottie. Stay away from her, ok? I need her focused fourteen hours a day right now."

Keeping up with Kirsten's stream of consciousness mode of conversation wasn't easy. It was the required effort, Dustin decided later, that overcame the reticence he'd used as a shield for so long. "The blonde?" he asked with a grin that Jared would've recognized and envied, and that at one point would've inspired Darcy to jump him, regardless of where they were or who else was around.

"She's twenty-two."

"Trainable. Always a plus."

"I would've thought," Kirsten began as she slid an arm around his waist, "that a man of your experience would want his women to have a bit more finesse."

He thought about finesse, even while appreciating the fine display of if. The production assistant in question's eyes got huge when she spotted them. From her angle, he and Kirsten had to look like they were very cozy. Message delivered, Kirsten backed up a step, bit her bottom lip and looked up at him, curious as to what he would do. Playing along, Dustin winked at her. They both chuckled when his cellular telephone rang.

Dustin waved Kirsten back toward her cast and crew, thumbing the connection with practiced ease. "Yeah."

"Mr. Yarma, it's Enrico."

The anguish in his caterer's tone got Dustin's attention. "What's wrong?"

"It's Monique. She's quit. We're in a frenzy."

"A frenzy?" The thought of that collection of Greeks and Italians in such a state was scary, and the word had attracted Kirsten's attention, interestingly enough. Dustin shrugged her way, as he inquired, "Is that bad?"

"Catastrophic, Mr. Yarma. I'll be shorthanded for your party unless there's a miracle. Praise God and pray he blesses us with one."

"Rico-."

"She always prepared the spicy prawns; I know they're your favorite."

No prawns? Impossible! "Have someone else make them."

Enrico gasped, as if Dustin had uttered blasphemy. "Monique is brilliant with shellfish, Mr. Yarma. Brilliant! The rest of us can't compare."

Dustin paced, listening to Enrico's histrionics and aware only peripherally of the scene being set up to his right. Mind racing, he sought a solution to this unexpected problem.

"Trouble?"

Startled, he jumped and whirled on Kirsten. "Yeah, but again, nothing to do with your project." When she regarded him with a small ironic smile, he added, "My caterer."

Still smiling that smile, she took his arm and gently steered him away from her people. "A couple weeks too early for you to be planning the wrap party. I hear you throw a mean one."

Covering the audio component of his cellular, he allowed himself to be led off of the set, realizing that they were ready to roll. "It's a studio thing." Impulsively, he stated what he knew that his boss would expect. "You should come."

"I wasn't fishing for an invitation, Dustin."

"I know. I should've asked before this; I've just been too damn busy. Oh, and bring anyone you like."

Now she was laughing and he found himself smiling. That was unusual; Dustin had very low tolerance for jokes he didn't get. Kirsten laconically informed him, "I won't be inviting Terri."

Baffled again, he asked, "Who's Terri?"

"The blonde girl that would sleep with you in a heartbeat."

"You're a harsh woman, Kirsten."

"And that's why you like me."

Dustin Yarma hadn't thought about whether or not he liked Kirsten McCall. He respected her; she knew her business and got a lot out of her actors. Her crew was fiercely loyal, something of a rarity in Hollywood these days. But what did he feel about her? She looked over her shoulder at him as she walked back onto the set, and he was forced to admit that he felt ambivalent. Best not to mention that.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Eight days later - The house

"Hey, Dustin. Long time no see."

Minnow. Fuck. Shit. Damn. Not now. Not while I'm in the process of stealing Brigitte Michel from Paramount.

Yarma forced himself to take a calming breath and to look at the bright side -- Minnow didn't live here anymore. Dustin's somewhat tarnished silver tongue had convinced Minnow that he deserved a place of his own.

Fixing a bland expression on his face, Dustin asked, "How's Buxom is Better doing?"

Minnow shrugged and smiled winningly. "A little less share than we hoped."

There's an understatement, Minnow, my man. It was cancelled after only three shows aired to dismal ratings and horrific reviews. "Sorry to hear that," Dustin shamelessly lied. Sighing and apologizing to Brigitte with his eyes, Yarma dutifully asked, "Have you met Ms. Michel?"

"I haven't had the pleasure," Minnow oozed. "My name is Minnow, lovely lady."

Brigitte soared in Dustin's estimations when she smiled vaguely at his nemesis and returned to their interrupted discussion. "Send me the script, Dustin. Drew and I would be interesting counterpoints."

"You'll have it tomorrow morning. I promise."

Elated, Dustin took the first opportunity to return Brigitte to the protection of her agent and to excuse himself. He then found a quiet corner and left Suzanne a message about what had just transpired. She'd see to it that the script reached its destination on time.

Dustin had a spring in his step when he returned to party central by his pool, but his good humor dampened when he saw Darcy clinging to Minnow. He'd heard they were quits. Again. Evidently that hadn't lasted. Again. It was strange, but he felt responsible for the shit that Minnow put Darcy through. Dustin had slept around a little when they were together, but he'd never thrown it in her face the way Minnow did.

A quick scan satisfied Dustin that the party was another success. What's more, he could relax because he'd concluded his business. That also meant that he could have a drink. Yarma had taken a half step toward the bar when Kirsten McCall barred his way and offered him a glass of champagne. Dustin stared at it for a moment. He hadn't had champagne since the night that a bottle of it had served as a blunt instrument.

"You don't like champagne or is the presentation below your standards?"

Startled out of the bad memories into noticing the silk tank top-leather skirt ensemble, he blurted, "No and no."

Dustin knew that her laughter had attracted attention, so he had no choice. Making the best of it, he smiled, took the proffered champagne flute and lifted it in a silent toast.

Kirsten supplied, "Here's to longer term associations."

"What does that mean?"

"That I've got a proposition for you."

Fighting the grin he could feel wanting to form, Dustin countered, "You're propositioning me? You know I'm saving myself for Terri."

Smirking, she moved to his side and gestured expansively to encompass the entire patio area. "Nothing out there interests you, Dustin? None of those starvation dieters, gym junkies, boob jobs or strategic tucks? Why do I find that hard to believe?"

"So what's this proposition?"

He'd tried, but he hadn't been able to keep the edge out of his voice. It might have been left over from the encounter with Minnow, but Dustin wasn't sure. He'd heard disapproval in Kirsten's tone and it made him angry. He wasn't profligate. Not anymore. Not since - then. He didn't trust himself to be. Some might say that he'd taken the concept to extremes, but he had to live with what he'd done in his own way.

"Did I say something wrong?"

So much for her not noticing the tension or letting it pass, Dustin thought. "No."

"I was only teasing. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"Forget it. I'm a little tense. That's all. Ok?"

She nodded, but her big brown eyes were gazing at him concernedly.

"The proposition?" When Kirsten didn't respond, he determinedly lightened his tone and added, "Is this a dramatic pause or is there a password I'm supposed to guess?"

Kirsten relented. "A friend of mine and I have an idea that we'd like you to consider. Three films, loosely related to each other. I promised her I'd ask for a meeting once I'd gotten some alcohol in you. Since you didn't drink to my toast, I've failed her."

Making an effort to be agreeable, Dustin drained his champagne before inquiring, "Not Shannon Kelberg?"

Moving closer and taking his arm, Kirsten managed to create the sense of a private conversation despite the people milling all around them. "The one and only. Shanny's so committed to this trilogy that she's making everyone crazy. Fair warning."

"What's the timing?"

"She wants to start pre-production when I'm doing post for D&T. She's been planning this forever, Dustin. Shanny can have it in place by then."

"That's close." Pulling his palm pilot out of his suit coat pocket, Dustin deftly brought up his calendar. It didn't look good. He had too many irons in the fire. But a McCall/Kelberg collaboration would be something if the script quality was even close to the directorial talent. "My next week sucks. What about Sunday?"

"Day after tomorrow, Sunday?"

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Here? Everything will be cleaned up by then, and I really hate going to the studio on Sundays."

"Sunday it is." Kirsten leaned close and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Thank you, Dustin. You won't regret this."

He didn't. Not the meeting, anyway. The kiss, however, was a red flag to a bull named Minnow. The bastard was already wending his way toward them, dragging Darcy in his wake. Something had to be done.

"Kirsten, can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure, producer o' mine, you just saved me from being reamed a new asshole by my best friend. 'Do something useful if you're going out dressed like a tramp,' Shanny insisted."

"You don't look like a tramp." Dustin mentally slapped himself for inanity the moment the words were spoken.

Kirsten smiled and clarified, "Anything more feminine than jeans and t-shirt is trampish if Shanny's in a mood because she wants something. But, tell me. What can I do for you, Dustin?"

Her abrupt change in tone from informative to sultry made him grin. "There's a blonde guy headed our way. He's something of a professional pain in my ass, and the woman with him is an ex. A conversation with either I do not want or need. Could you - I don't know - cop an attitude with them or something?"

In response, Kirsten squeezed his arm and inquired, "What kind of attitude?"

"I'll leave that to you."

They were sharing a laugh when the couple reached them. Darcy, always secure in exposing as much of her body as possible, sidled up to her former lover and purred, "Hello, Dustin. You look good."

"Thanks."

Darcy never could take a hint, so his clipped tone and closed posture went unheeded. "Who's your friend?"

The woman herself responded, "Kirsten McCall."

Minnow, ever the charmer, asked, "Death and Taxes, right?"

Smoothly, Kirsten replied, "That's right. Angst and misplaced aggression. Black comedy with a rueful twist. I'm very proud of it."

Not wanting to lose momentum, Dustin added, "She's incredibly talented."

His ex eyed him significantly. "At what, sweetie?"

"Filmmaking, Darcy."

Kirsten's lips attached themselves to Dustin's left ear and she barely breathed, "Is that all, baby?" directly into it.

His slightly nervous laugh at what they hadn't heard agitated Minnow and Darcy. They shared a glance. Then Darcy glared at Dustin as though he drowned puppies for fun.

Minnow spoke. "Does your friend know everything about you, Dustin?"

Yarma froze; Minnow smirked; Darcy allowed herself to be shepherded away by her escort with only one superior backward glance. Dustin figured he ought to count himself lucky it hadn't been any worse.

"You wasted your time with her? I better introduce you to Terri; she has better fashion sense and way better taste in men."

Recognizing the telltale signs of an impeding bout of brooding and really not wanting to go there tonight, Dustin softly admitted, "It didn't seem like a waste at the time."

"Never does."

Smiling ruefully, he murmured, "Thanks, Kirsten."

"I think I'll stay on your arm for a while. Those two are trouble."

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Poolside

Satisfied that he'd cleared everyone out, Dustin Yarma returned to the poolside deck, anxious to continue his conversation with Kirsten McCall. He didn't really believe that Shannon Kelberg wouldn't forgive Kirsten for previewing their pitch tonight. But he knew he was already more than half way hooked on the idea.

Approaching the pool, he stopped short, puzzled. Where was she? He'd left her in the chaise lounge he was standing next to not twenty minutes prior. She had been right here.

Unbidden, an image of Kirsten flew into his mind, her lifeless eyes staring up at him from the cold concrete. Concrete became sand. Rhythmic splashes transformed into the sound of the surf. Panic rising, Dustin's eyes darted frantically, but they showed him a different setting on a different night.

This can't be happening. There's no possible way. Where the fuck is she?

Finally, his fevered brain accepted the splashes for what they actually were. Kirsten was in the pool, naked and doing a lazy crawl toward the ladder. Relief flooded though Dustin and his irrational fear subsided as she climbed the ladder with grace and athleticism. Standing before him, bathed in the light of the moon, Kirsten looked like she should have artists demanding to paint her. She was certainly beautiful enough to make her living in front of the cameras.

Unable to see her face, hidden as it was in the shadows, he whispered, "I should get you a towel."

"Don't bother. It's still so warm." Stepping closer and tilting her head so the moonlight illuminated her facial features, she instructed, "Kiss me, Dustin."

Certain he'd heard wrong, he asked, "What?"

"You heard me."

"Are you drunk? It's dangerous to swim when you're drunk."

Kirsten slid her arms around his neck and pressed against him. "I'm not drunk. I am fully in command of my faculties."

Feeling foolish with his hands at his sides, Dustin tentatively placed them on her hips. "Then your faculties aren't what they should be."

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you want me to kiss you?"

Stroking his neck with her fingernails, she murmured, "Have you looked in a mirror lately, Dustin? You, sir, are gorgeous."

"I'm an asshole, though."

She continued her light tactile exploration of his skin. "Maybe, but are you good in bed? That's the question for tonight. And I'm betting the answer's yes, if Ms. Bare Midriff paid you any attention."

"Bed?" he croaked as Kirsten slipped his suit jacket off his shoulders. Dustin was only dimly aware of it falling to the ground in a heap.

Kirsten cocked her head and smirked up at him. "We could do it out here if I can be on top."

"I meant I thought everyone says that you and Kelberg are an item."

"Is that relevant?"

Oh God. She was touching him though his silk shirt, lightly and insistently. This shouldn't be happening, he thought. No, he corrected himself forcefully. It can't happen.

Sex over the last two years was something that Dustin scheduled. Competent and highly discreet professionals had taken care of him when his own hand wasn't good enough any longer. It was better that way. Safe. Controllable. Nothing out of the ordinary or life ruining could happen.

Almost as important, the strategy drove Minnow nuts. He'd gotten off on Dustin's mad fluctuation between insanely jealous and missing Darcy terribly. Ever since Yarma had put Darcy behind him, he knew that Minnow had been hoping to relive the experience. The 'Dustin gets-Minnow takes' cycle, the shithead called it.

"What are you thinking?"

"Huh?" Dustin knew he should be thinking of a graceful way out of this, but his thoughts were too fragmented. Automatically, he offered a reassuring "I'm paying attention" smile while his thoughts came fast and furious.

Ok, so this isn't like we're madly in love or anything. Hell, we barely know each other. And we're working together, and- what the hell is she doing? Dustin tried to ask his question, but all he managed aloud was a groaned, "What?"

"Like that?"

He couldn't keep quiet. "Yeah. Christ, yeah." With barely a pause to smile at him, Kirsten's tongue wet the silk of his shirt where it covered his other nipple and repeated the tease with fingertips, lips and teeth.

When he began to squirm, she pulled back and re-stated his orders. "Kiss me, Dustin."

Yarma leaned down and gently touched his lips to hers. She whispered, "Why not do it like you mean it, gorgeous?" against his lips and he obliged. Before long, Dustin had one hand on the small of her back holding her close, and the other tangled in her long dark hair. Kirsten had opened her mouth underneath his and the temptation had been more than his tongue could resist. It had been too damn long.

When they came up for air, their eyes met and held. Stroking his chest, she murmured, "Shanny's got a squeeze, and she is female, but she isn't me."

Dustin nodded, struggling to get his breathing back under control. "Kirsten, um I don't think--."

She murmured, "Perfect," as she nipped at his ear lobe.

Desperately, he groaned, "Business should stay business. We we're business."

"What have you got against pleasure, Dustin?"

"Nuh Jesus, nothing. Kirsten, please don't."

Her, "Why not?" was spoken directly into his open mouth, stealing his breath.

Dustin Yarma wasn't thinking very clearly; every cell in his body was responding to the Kirsten's proximity. That was the only way he could explain his whispered, "Darcy."

She laughed out loud, disbelief obvious. "You still have a thing for her? Get past that, Dustin. She plays in the shallow end of the pool."

"You go go off the high dive. Is Jesus Christ, Kirsten, stop that. Is that it?"

Despite his breathless demand, her hands never ceased moving, although they'd seemed satisfied at the moment with caressing his ass through his summer wool suit pants. He had to concentrate to hear Kirsten's whisper over his loudly beating heart.

"I swim with the sharks, Dustin. Out there with the rest of the real women."

Sharks? Shit! He panted out his rejoinder. "Real women. Sharks. I get that."

"Did shallow girl hurt you?"

What's the harm, Dustin? Admit it. Might do you good. "Yeah."

She was laughing again, but this time affectionately. "I'm not going to hurt you, little boy. Not much, anyway."

Little boy? What the fuck? Eyes blazing, he pulled away. "What the hell do you mean, little boy?"

Kirsten met his gaze calmly, pressing close to him once again. "Don't worry, I won't throw you back."

It took a moment or two for Dustin to interpret her words. He chuckled when he did. Big enough, huh? A backhanded compliment, but a compliment nonetheless, and a fishing reference, no less. Something in him broke free of its chains when he'd connected those dots.

Feeling him relax, she pressed, "Bed?"

It wasn't easy, but Dustin was focusing. She'd talked about hurting him. "I'm not into pain, Kirsten."

"That's because you haven't met the right woman."

Hissing in pleasure as her touch grew even bolder, he demurred, "No, it's because I'm well adjusted." There's the big lie, Dustin. Had to tell one. You always do.

Chuckling as she continued to torment him, Kirsten allowed, "We'll see, gorgeous. We certainly shall see. And who knows? Maybe I can maladjust you."

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

The next morning - The house

Dustin Yarma opened his eyes reluctantly. He ached. His head didn't hurt, so he hadn't had too much to drink. Still, it was always a relief to awaken in his own bed with the California sun streaming in through the windows, and, this time, everything back to normal after the dreams he'd had. Jesus, Kirsten McCall naked was a call to any heterosexual male. Masturbate now. The things she'd done to him in REM sleep were nothing short of amazing.

Refusing to consider how long it had been since he'd had those sorts of dreams, Dustin propped himself up on an elbow and sighed. Before he could motivate himself to attain a true sitting position, he noticed the piece of paper on the pillow next to him. Picking it up with a suddenly too-rapidly beating heart, he read:

Dustin,

I'm sorry, but we're starting early on D&T today. Sunshine as a backdrop for angst and pain, don't you know? I wish I could be there to kiss you senseless the moment you opened those lovely green eyes and get your cardio work-out taken care of first thing, but duty calls, gorgeous. Please understand. See you Sunday.

Ki

Holy Mother of God, it hadn't been a dream. He'd begged to come like a high school boy at the mercy of an oversexed divorcee. Christ Almighty.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

The following Sunday - The house

Dustin Yarma focused on the two women sitting on his couch, making occasional notes in his palm pilot about the McCall/Kelberg trilogy. It was fucking brilliant. They wanted to cast the same four leads to carry all three films. The actors and actresses would each play three different characters in three distinct settings, yet the three scripts told a cohesive story of pain and pride. The first in the series was beautiful and incredibly complex, something that could make a legitimate run at Cannes. The type of film the studio always said they wanted to do and never did.

"What do you think, Dustin?"

Kirsten was tense and gazing at him expectantly, a far cry from the supremely confident woman who had strolled into his house a few hours ago and eyed him with an air of possession. Dustin had done his best to ignore both the annoyance and the excitement that her actions had inspired in him. When the women started their tag team pitch, he'd forgotten all about the other night.

He met Shannon's eyes first and smiled slightly before addressing Kirsten's question. "I have an offer for you, but I'm not going to make it. It doesn't fit the project."

"What does that mean?"

Kelberg's growl didn't hurry Dustin's response. "That you give me twenty-four hours to adjust it."

"Tomorrow then?"

"Name your time. It'd help if you could give me at least until noon to put it together."

Kirsten smiled at him and smoothly overrode her directorial colleague. "We can see you at 3:00 pm."

But when can I see you? Yarma was proud that he merely nodded and checked his palm pilot rather than speaking his mental question aloud. "I can make that, I think. If you don't mind if I'm a few minutes late."

"We'll spot you ten, Dustin, but after than we make no promises to go easy on you."

"Understood, Ms. Kelberg." Deciding to play the end of this meeting as cool as he could, Yarma stood and waited for the ladies to follow suit. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me here. I appreciate it."

"It was the least we could do," Kirsten offered.

Dustin managed not to laugh at the disgusted look that Shannon sent Kirsten's way. And he maintained a relatively neutral expression when Kirsten gracefully took his arm to walk to the front door.

They paused in the foyer. Yarma shook Shannon's hand. "Tomorrow, no later than 3:10 pm."

He shifted his feet slightly and offered his hand to Kirsten. She released his arm, took his hand but instead of shaking it, she lifted it to her lips. An open-mouthed sensuous kiss on his palm sent a shiver of desire through Dustin. Playful flicks of her tongue, as she regarded him with mischievous eyes, made Yarma aware of the dryness of his throat. He was losing the battle not to think of her tongue anywhere else on his body.

"Behave," Kelberg ordered. "He has a deal to get done."

"Bye," Kirsten murmured as she released his hand, and the two women crossed his threshold.

Dustin watched them go, ruthlessly refusing to acknowledge that he was pleased that Kirsten looked over her shoulder and waved before they climbed into their car.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Several days later - The office

"Dustin, stop."

Leafing through the packet his assistant had already handed him, Yarma distractedly muttered, "Hmmm."

Suzanne smiled at him and held up three expensive pens. "Don't forget these."

"I'm sure they have pens, Suzanne."

Undaunted, she slipped the writing implements into the inside pocket of his brand new Hugo Boss suit coat. "Shannon Kelberg loves Waterman and has been coveting her PA's green and black version. That's the one you give her. And I have it on good authority that blue is Kirsten McCall's favorite color. The black one's yours. It's you."

He chuckled, but his question was serious. "You think those women will go for the signing souvenir thing?"

"I know it. Trust me."

"I think you're trying to ruin my New Hollywood image; that's what I think."

Suzanne smiled as she pushed him toward the door. "Paranoia is bad for your complexion. Better watch that if you want to keep the ladies panting."

"Ladies pant? Really? I hadn't heard that."

She gave him that look, the one that clearly indicated that she didn't find him amusing at all. "Get moving, Dustin. Contract signing at 6:00 pm. You were on time to deliver the offer; let's make it two for two."

Glancing at his watch, Yarma knew the speed limit wouldn't cut it. "I'll be there."

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

A restaurant

He was only fifteen minutes late, but Dustin knew the moment he entered the restaurant that Shannon Kelberg wasn't happy. Exuding every ounce of charm he possessed and ably aided by Kirsten McCall, he soothed Shannon and pulled out the contract.

Dustin signed the three copies first, pocketed his pen and offered the blue one and the stack of paperwork to Kirsten. She met his eyes and allowed a slow smile to form on her face. Yarma's breath started coming a little faster, so he decided to allow one of his trademark grins to speak for him. To excellent effect, he noted with pride. Kirsten looked away first and signed. Pushing the pile toward Shannon, Kirsten offered her friend her pen.

"Try this one," Dustin interjected, proffering Suzanne's suggested pen.

Shannon looked at the pen and then at him. "Is this mine?"

"Suzanne insisted."

"Give her a raise, Dustin. A big one." With that, Shannon signed with a flourish and collected one of the copies and her pen. Standing, she rested a hand on Kirsten's shoulder and murmured, "I'll see you tomorrow, Ki," before turning on her heel and striding away.

That was how Dustin discovered that Ki rhymed with sky as opposed to bee, an important fact to his mind. It was also how he ended up alone at a hip, happening restaurant way too early for an LA dinner with Kirsten McCall.

"So, here we are."

He smiled at her flippant tone. But before he could think of a suitable rejoinder, he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, Dustin, everything go ok? I almost got run down by Shannon Kelberg; she looked like she might be angry." Winking at Kirsten, Minnow confided, "Boss asked me to look after him; he's been spread too thin lately."

Yarma didn't believe that for a moment. He'd firmly re-established his golden boy image. Annoyance gave way to anger when he caught Kirsten's sympathetic look, yet Dustin kept his voice even. "The contract's signed and sealed. I'll deliver it tomorrow."

"He wants it today."

"Then I'll swing by the studio after Kirsten and I are finished."

Dustin knew the slight edge that had crept into his tone was music to Minnow's ears and cursed himself for the lapse in control. Minnow was grinning as he leaned forward and asked, "You two plotting something else? Isn't four movies with the same director way over your quota, Dustin?"

Doing his best to evince boredom, Dustin laconically noted, "There are exceptions to every rule."

"Particularly when the director is so exceptional." Minnow paused to let his compliment hang in the air before continuing lightly, "Pardon me, then. I'll be at the bar if you need anything. Either of you."

Minnow retreated, and Dustin took several deep breaths.

He hadn't had much luck getting his runaway emotions in check when Kirsten asked, "What's his deal?"

"I'm not sure." Dustin didn't like admitting that he didn't get Minnow's angle. That was a dangerous state of affairs.

Kirsten nodded and advised, "Get your plastic ready, Dustin. Our waitress is headed this way, and I really don't think we need a chaperone."

Yarma nodded; he could feel Minnow's eyes on them and his own blood pressure rising to what had to be an unhealthy level. They paid, retrieved Dustin's car and exceeded the legal speed limit first to the studio and then to his house. When they pulled into the driveway, Dustin faced Kirsten with a sheepish expression. "I'm sorry, Ki, I didn't even ask. Did you want to go somewhere else?"

"This'll do, little boy," she countered, stepping out of his car. "For what I have in mind."

Dustin followed and was about to ask the obvious question when he spotted something leaning against his front door. Heart pounding, Dustin moved toward it.

Kirsten had seen it too. "That's a bit morbid."

Dustin had to agree. It was about a foot and a half high. A wooden box in the shape of a coffin. Painted black with a black ribbon tied around it. Yarma carefully picked it up; the item screamed Minnow.

"What is it?"

Yarma shrugged and opened the door. Once Ki was inside, he closed it, fastening the deadbolt and activating the new alarm system he'd had installed the day after Minnow had moved out.

"What's going on, Dustin?"

Forcing a passable, devilish smile, he replied, "I don't want any interruptions."

As he'd hoped, Ki grinned. He was flush with that success when she plucked the coffin out of his hands.

Weakly, he managed, "Where are you taking that?"

"Kitchen. I want to see what's inside."

Coming up behind her, Dustin slid his arms around her waist and pressed his lips to the base of her throat. "That's really what you want?"

"Um hm." She giggled as he nipped at her earlobe. "And later I want you. Slow. I want it to last forever tonight, little boy. You willing?"

He'd promise her anything if she'd leave Minnow's present alone. But Ki was determined. She'd already pried the box part way open with his good bread knife.

Direct was his only option. "Whatever you want, Ki. Just leave that. Ok?"

"Why? You have some goth chick sending you black candles, a hooded robe and a leather thong for your next date?"

He was laughing at how her mind worked when she triumphantly ripped the top off of the box. His laughter died in his throat. It contained a bottle of Dom Perignon, a comic book and a blonde wig.

"Kinky," Kirsten murmured. "You have to tell me the story behind this." She picked up the champagne and turned toward him. "It's chilled. Do you want to have - Dustin? Are you ok?"

"Throw that away!" Yarma's voice was raw with emotion; his hands were shaking.

"Dustin, what--?"

"Throw. It. Away."

Kirsten tossed the champagne into the trashcan without further hesitation. Something she saw in his face convinced her to throw the rest away as well. An awkward silence descended.

After a few moments, Kirsten softly ventured, "Red wine?"

"Fine."

Yarma stood in his kitchen, staring at the trashcan while Kirsten selected a bottle from the wine rack and opened it. She carried two glasses and the opened wine bottle past Dustin and into the living room. After a moment or two, she called, "Will you come and sit with me?"

Knowing that she had to be thinking he was unstable, Dustin relaxed as best he could and joined her on the couch. Fortunately, he caught himself before he refused her unspoken request for him to raise his glass in a toast. That was all she needed, more evidence that her producer was psychotic. He picked up his glass and waited, not even noticing that he was holding his breath.

"To the trilogy." When he smiled and lifted his glass, she added, "And going very slow."

They drank the toast and silence fell. It was more or less companionable this time, and Kirsten shifted to lean against Dustin's chest. When both of their glasses were empty, Kirsten took Dustin's from him and placed both on the coffee table. Instead of refilling them, she slowly traced his lips with a fingertip.

Suddenly and inexplicably panicked, Dustin opened his mouth to protest - what he wasn't exactly sure. Her gentleness?

"Ssh," she whispered before replacing her fingertip with her lips. He was stiff and tense, but Kirsten didn't stop. She kissed him, slowly and thoroughly. Licked his lips playfully. Kissed him again, opening her mouth and tempting him with her tongue. He didn't succumb, but that didn't faze her. She next devoted exquisite attention to his bottom lip. Gently sucking on it before taking it between her teeth and apologizing for the minor aggression with her tongue.

His breathless, "Ki," was her reward and she gloried in it. Her lips went back to work, assisted by tongue and teeth. Slowly and sensually, she overwhelmed Dustin's mouth and he could feel her smile against his lips when his arms came around her. She chuckled, as he began to aggressively return her kisses.

Dodging him with a small smile, she said, "Dustin, wait."

"What?" he breathed.

"Put your hands here, little boy," she suggested, guiding them to his sides. "Let me love you."

He obeyed through her next sensual onslaught, but protested when she had allowed him to inhale sufficient air. "But but I want to touch you." "

There's plenty of time for that, Dustin. We have all night."

"All night?"

Kirsten kissed him on the nose in response to the anguish in his tone. "You aren't going to get impatient on me, are you, little boy."

"Stop calling me that!"

Her only response was to stand and lift his legs from the floor and to the couch.

"What are you--?"

His half asked question was answered when Ki chuckled, pushed him into a reclined position and covered his body with hers. The mouth-to-mouth work began again. After some unknown amount of time had passed, Dustin felt like he was going to go out of his mind. He hadn't spent this much time kissing since college and his body was howling for release. Ki had at least allowed him to put his arms around her, but kissing seemed to be all that she wanted to do. Much more of this and he was going to embarrass himself.

"How's my little boy?"

He growled at the nickname, but she turned that into a groan with a small shift of her hips.

"Are you desperate to fuck me yet?"

Pride made him shake his head in the negative.

"Good," she murmured as she leaned in to kiss him some more.

Fuck pride. "Ki, please."

"You want to go into the bedroom, little boy?" When he frowned slightly, she added, "You are my little boy, Dustin. Get used to it."

Knowing he wasn't going to win and having better things to do with her than fight, Dustin asked, "Did you say something about the bedroom?"

She admitted that she had and Dustin sighed in relief. Little had he known. They went into the bedroom. He sat on the bed and she put on some jazz with heavy bass and stripped for him. Slowly. Unbuttoning and unzipping had never been so erotic. The damn woman almost made him lose it slipping her feet out of her pumps. That was when he'd begun to fear for his sanity.

Kirsten encouraged him to stand and demanded that he remain perfectly still as she undressed him. Slowly. Even though he was trembling with the need to bury himself inside her, Dustin managed to hang onto his control until she unbuckled his belt. He hadn't ever uttered the word "please" that many times in so short a duration in his life. She was unmoved.

He climbed into bed first. Doing as he was told. She joined him and held him close, pressing her breasts into his back and making soothing noises. When he ceased pleading, she tormented an erect nipple with a fingernail and teasingly asked, "Are you my little boy, Dustin?"

"Yes. Christ, yes. I'll be whatever you want, just just, please, Ki."

"Face me."

He rolled over immediately, trying and failing not to look hopeful. She smiled and inquired, "Can you go slow for me, Dustin?"

Yarma had been bracing for "little boy" and gratitude swelled up in him that she'd said his name. Her affectionate smile let him know that she understood, but he was too aroused to give a damn. "I can try."

"Then we'll just look at each other and think about how wonderful you moving slowly inside me will feel until you know you can."

"What am I - the little engine that could?"

Giggling, she replied, "Something like that, yes."

With as much conviction he could muster, knowing that the side position would help matters a bit, Dustin asserted, "I know I can."

"Take me."

The hunger in her voice was almost his undoing. He barely checked his impulse to lunge for her while she placed a condom on him. With shaking hands, he guided himself inside. Slowly. He groaned as she surrounded him and nearly screamed when Ki playfully clenched her vaginal muscles around him. "Don't don't do that. I won't I can't Jesus, Ki, you feel so good."

Getting himself under a measure of control, Dustin set a rhythm that Kirsten seemed to like and concentrated on not coming. He did it well. After a while, Kirsten was clutching at him and moaning. Hearing the woman who had controlled the encounter to this point demanding to be fucked harder made Dustin smile. Three sharp counterthrusts by Ki sent her over the edge. Dustin rode it out and continued with his rhythmic movements.

Ki was beaming at him, her eyes a little unfocused from her first orgasm. Dustin was determined to bring her to another one. They both lost control the second time and Yarma felt as though his head was going to explode before he climaxed. Fortunately, he was wrong. They lay together for several long moments before admitting to being uncomfortably damp. After sharing a shower and changing the sheets, they tumbled back into bed. It wasn't long before they fell asleep in each other's arms.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Two weeks ago - The office

Dustin Yarma had two large stacks of scripts and treatments in front of him and a smaller, unread pile off to his right. The script in his hands was making his head hurt. It wouldn't be so bad if at least one of the characters did something at some point that made sense. Dustin was on page twenty-six and he wasn't willing to read any further to see if that ever happened. With a sigh, he put Barnburners on what he thought of as the "really bad" stack.

"Anything interesting?"

Dustin looked up, maintaining a bland neutral expression to face a smirking Minnow. "Some."

"Mind if I have a look?"

Gesturing in a vague "have at it" way, Yarma watched Minnow curiously. Dustin couldn't figure out what the other man's game was, but Minnow seemed amused as he ran his fingertips over each stacks in turn.

"Which pile should I scan?"

Dustin shrugged. Barnburners would appeal to Minnow. It had a lot of ditzy women in it who didn't wear very much in the way of clothing. If he could get it made, Minnow could set up a turnstile for the actresses in his bedroom. There was worse incentive. Consequently, Dustin pushed that stack toward Minnow.

Smirk now bearing a hint of malice, Minnow placed a hand on the "utterly awful" stack. "I think I'll take these for a spin."

"Suit yourself."

Minnow leaned over the desk, invading Dustin's personal space. Yarma wasn't in the mood for scare tactics, so he sat back in his chair and glared. The phone rang, sounding loud in the tension-filled room.

Without hesitation, Dustin took the call. "Yarma."

"How's my little boy?"

Even the stupid nickname couldn't keep a smile away. Kirsten McCall's voice was a welcome sound. "Fine."

"Not lonely?"

Dustin laughed at the mild indignation in her tone, but he sobered when he realized that Minnow had taken a seat. The bastard had the gall to pretend to be looking at scripts while avidly listening to Dustin's side of the conversation.

"Maybe a little. What's it to you?"

"I thought maybe we could cut out of the wrap party early and keep each other company. Sound good?"

Wrap party? A quick glance at his palm pilot confirmed that the Death and Taxes soire was tonight. That also explained the green file folder on his desk that he hadn't yet opened, because Suzanne had declared today a reading day for him. She was a fanatic for color coding - green meant event.

"Dustin? Are you still there?"

Kirsten's voice refocused his scattering thoughts. "I don't usually--."

"I know, but I was hoping you'd make an exception. We don't have to stay long. And it would mean so much to Terri."

Dustin could hear the laughter in her voice and grinned. It froze on his face when Minnow moved to stand next to his chair. Irritably, Dustin switched the receiver to his other ear.

"What time?"

"I don't want to be there any later than 10:00 pm."

"So you'll be looking for me around 9:55 pm?"

"9:45 pm. One drink, Dustin. Then we hit it. Agreed?"

She liked those things less than he did from the sound of it, but before Dustin could comment, Minnow bent down and whispered, "Who's calling, Dustin? You got a girlfriend you've been hiding from me? Or maybe a boyfriend? Someone you think can protect your sorry ass from me?"

Covering the mouthpiece, Dustin hissed, "Do you mind?"

Minnow smirked at him. "You've been so insular lately. Darcy and I worry."

"I'll bet," Yarma growled.

"What's going on? Is someone there?"

When Kirsten spoke, Dustin turned his back on Minnow, something he usually avoided. "I'll see you later, ok?"

"At the party?"

"Yeah. I've got to go now. Bye."

Yarma cut the connection, hoping Kirsten wouldn't be angry at the abruptness. "Minnow, take your pile of crap and get the hell out."

"Touchy today. Not getting enough, Dustin?"

"Get. Out."

"Maybe I could talk to her or him for you. I could explain--."

Dustin stood and itched to take out his frustration by slamming a fist into Minnow's face. "Save your explaining for Darcy."

Laughing, Minnow turned toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he looked at Dustin with a wounded expression on his face. "This is the thanks I get. After all I've done for you."

It took every ounce of self-control Dustin could muster not to throw something at the back of Minnow's head.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

The wrap party

Minnow hadn't gotten to him like that in a while, and Yarma hadn't calmed down by the time he arrived at the wrap party. Scanning the crowd didn't improve his mood. Where the hell was Ki? If she had left already, he would get her back somehow. He was fuming; he knew it was irrational, but he couldn't stop.

"Hi!"

Dustin spun toward the high-pitched greeting, primed to light into someone. He choked back a snarl when confronted by a young, fresh-faced blonde woman who could only be the infamous Terri. "Hi," he mumbled, trying to force a smile and not be obvious about looking around the room for Kirsten.

Blushing, she decided to steamroll into a conversation. "I'm Terri. Kirsten's assistant. She's been waiting for you."

"Where is she?"

"Oh, um she was over by the bar last I saw her."

Forcing himself to remain at least outwardly calm, Dustin inquired lightly, "Which bar?"

"That one, and she was oh, here she comes."

Seeing Kirsten McCall wending her way toward them, Dustin relaxed and decided to see if Ki was right about her assistant. Smiling at Terri, he gently placed a hand on her upper arm and murmured, "Thank you, Terri. And call me Dustin, please."

"Sure, Dustin."

She smiled shyly at him and he returned it with one of his best efforts. Terri picked up the invitation in it and moved closer to him, prompting Dustin to extend their chat.

"Kirsten speaks very highly of you. I hope she isn't too demanding."

"She runs a tight ship, that's for sure, but she's good to us. The crew, I mean."

"That's excellent, Terri."

Dustin had been told that his deep, raspy voice did very pleasant things to women. It seemed to in this case, as Terri breathlessly murmured, "Yeah, I think so."

Kirsten McCall walked right up to Yarma, slipped her arms around his neck and lured Dustin into a slow sensual kiss. He thought he heard some sort of yelp from Terri, but he couldn't be sure. Dustin was enjoying Ki's "hello" far too much.

"You're tense," Kirsten observed softly. "Rough day?"

"Yeah.

"Well, we'll have to do something about that."

He returned her smile a bit halfheartedly; no matter what the inspiration - and Ki was prime motivation - he didn't have the energy for sex tonight. Minnow had wormed his way into Dustin's psyche and dealing with the anger, aggression and helplessness took a toll.

So he hedged, "I don't know, Ki."

"I do. Let's get you home."

Dustin's polite goodbye to Terri provided Kirsten with a monologue topic for the ride. Needling him for teasing her production assistant seemed to lighten Ki's mood but it did nothing for Dustin's. He drove, half-listening to his companion and seething at the presumption that had infused Minnow's every word.

When he became aware that he was moving through his house in Kirsten's wake and realized that he didn't remember parking the car, Dustin stopped. "Ki, I "

"Trust me, little boy. I'm looking out for your best interests."

Yarma had thought that his back muscles couldn't get any tighter. He was wrong and tried to tell himself that it was the pain that put the bitterness in his tone. "No one gives a damn about anyone else's best interests."

Kirsten halted and slowly retraced her steps. When she got close enough, she took his hand, entwining her fingers with his. Gently tugging in the direction she'd been walking, Ki whispered, "That's too jaded, even for Tinsel Town. You see, I'm thinking that tonight my little boy needs a massage and sleep. Am I warm?"

Amazed, he murmured, "Very."

"Follow me, take off your clothes and let me show you what relaxed feels like."

In the next hour and a half to two hours, she redefined the word for him. First, Kirsten had attended to the mood. While he undressed, she put mellow flute music on his stereo. Where that CD had come from, Dustin wasn't certain. She lit a few candles while he made himself comfortable on the bed.

And, finally, after coming across some oil that Darcy had left behind, her hands worked him over slowly and skillfully. All the while, she softly spoke. Talking to him about him. About how she admired his bone structure and musculature. Her appreciation of his style and sense of humor; the dedication he'd shown to her projects as well as a number of other things. Nothing overtly sexual, but the effect was incredibly sensual. Dustin dozed, his limbs slowly turning to Jell-O, as her words washed over him and her hands manipulated his muscles.

He didn't even twitch when she stopped; he was so comfortable. Yarma only opened his eyes when she gently caressed his shoulder and whispered, "Let's get you between the sheets, Dustin."

"Don't wanna move."

Chuckling, she slipped under the covers and slid closer, flatly proclaiming, "I want to hold you." Her lips were almost touching his when she asked, "Will you let me, little boy?"

Dustin's heart beat a little faster, but the rest of him remained completely at ease. With a sigh, he mumbled, "Ok," and joined her.

Sighing contentedly, Kirsten wrapped herself around him and murmured, "Good night."

The scent of almonds reached his nose. It wasn't the oil; that had been unscented. A few moments of the most careful attention he was able to muster suggested it was Ki. Her hair, he suspected. "You smell good."

"Thanks." She hugged him briefly before commanding, "Go to sleep."

He did, with a smile on his face.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

One week ago - Shannon Kelberg's house

Dustin Yarma was mildly surprised when Shannon Kelberg took his arm, extracting him from the group Kirsten had left him with when she disappeared. He knew it was Shannon's party and didn't expect to be singled out by the hostess, who he suspected didn't like him all that much. Still, he was grateful. The conversation had been a technical one about new 16 mm camera models. Mild interest for a very limited time was all he could fake.

"Do you know why you're here tonight, Dustin?" Shannon asked conversationally, a wry smile on her face.

Puzzled, he replied, "Ki wanted to come to your party. Isn't that obvious?"

"That's why Ki's here."

Yarma's recently honed instincts for trouble were screaming at him. Loudly. Warily, he muttered, "We spend time together; you know that."

"I do. Know, I mean. I'm interested in what you don't."

"You know something I don't know about Ki? What's surprising about that? You've known her for years."

Shannon seemed to enjoy his exasperation. She even patted him on the shoulder, when she mused, "Most women who like men, misguided though they may be, would leap at the chance to take you to a party. I mean, why not? Handsome, successful Hollywood producer is trophy enough for most."

Darcy's penchant for what she called "showing him off" immediately sprung to mind. Her strutting had been an ego stroke for him at first, but after a while it had become just another irritating thing that she did. Shannon Kelberg's casual mention of the Darcy syndrome in relation to Ki threw him a bit, but Dustin persisted, "So I'm a walking talking Oscar tonight?"

"No. Not at all."

"Huh?" was all he could say. He wasn't following Shannon at all. She was worse than Ki at changing subjects.

"Ki is definitely not "most women."

Taking a moment to replay the conversation in his head, Dustin found the referent. "Are you saying she didn't want to bring me? She asked me for Christ's sake; I didn't just tag along."

"Late notice?"

About an hour before the party qualified. "Yeah. But neither of us is much for planning social stuff. We just do whatever, you know?" When Shannon didn't speak, Dustin found himself asking, "Why do you think she doesn't want me here?"

"Because she has to share you."

"Share me?" he sputtered with a glance back at the 16 mm camera technogeeks. "I don't think so."

Kelberg laughed heartily. "I'm not talking orgy, Dustin; this is about privacy. And maybe a little bit about obsession."

Dustin had learned how much he valued his privacy when Minnow had invaded it but obsession was a disturbing concept. Feeling out of his depth in this conversation, he admitted, "I don't know what you're talking about, Shannon. Maybe you better just lay it out for me."

"I've only seen Ki this bad once before and never this quickly."

Cursing under his breath about women who wouldn't just say what was on their mind, Dustin prompted, "This bad? I need a little more."

Seeing Ki return to the room and head for the geek group, Shannon pointed her out and stood at his side, whispering her concerns. "Look at her, Dustin." Ki had stopped when she realized that Dustin wasn't where she expected him to be and the look on her face as she scanned the room could only be characterized as stricken.

Without thinking, Dustin took a step toward Ki. Shannon moved with him and put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

"Do you get 'this bad' now?" Without waiting for him to reply, she continued, "She wants you all to herself. You. Her. No one else is necessary or desirable. A room, or worse a house full of people is not the environment she has in mind. But, she's stuck. If she doesn't take you places with her, you'll get the wrong idea. Think she's not interested or doesn't care or is running around on you or whatever it is that men think in that situation. To make matters worse, she hasn't known you for very long, so she isn't comfortable talking to you about it. Afraid she'll scare you off. That you'll hear the dreaded C-word in everything she says."

"C-word?" Yarma softly inquired, although he thought he knew.

"Commitment." Arching an eyebrow at him, Shannon inquired, "So now that you know, what are you going to do about it, Dustin?"

As he considered Kelberg's challenge, Dustin noticed that Kirsten had seen the two of them and was moving their way. Turning to Shannon, he asked, "Is there somewhere Ki and I can talk?"

Shannon was grinning approvingly at him. "The bedroom that she uses when she stays here. It's quiet. And don't worry, I'll make sure no one bothers you."

When Kirsten reached them, Dustin wasted no time. He smiled, pulled her into his arms and kissed her quickly. "Don't abandon me again, ok, Ki?"

Her return smile took his breath away. Ki's emotions seemed to be careening somewhat too, as she barely managed, "Ok."

Shannon nudged him in the back, but Dustin didn't need it. He was all over this. Focusing on Kirsten, he asked, "Can we get away from all these people for a few minutes?"

"Use the back bedroom, Ki," Shannon suggested softly.

Kirsten nodded, took Dustin's hand and silently led him up the stairs and toward the rear of the house. He was trying to think of something to say when Ki opened a door and stepped into the specified room. Dustin halted at the threshold, stunned. Red walls. Black ceiling. A huge bed with an intense looking, wrought iron frame. Heavy, rough- hewn, dark wood armoire and dresser. It looked almost medieval. If you ignored the red walls or imagined they were uniformly blood stained, that is.

When Ki released his hand, Dustin muttered, "Where are the broad swords, manacles and torch sconces?"

For the first time that evening as far as he could remember, Ki laughed genuinely. "Shanny doesn't leave that stuff out. Freaks out the maid service."

"Oh." Not quite trying for another laugh, Dustin asked, "Are we going to leave them in storage tonight?"

She nodded curtly and looked away.

"Hey, Ki, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that. It's just well, this room sort of screams interior designer on mescaline."

He got his second laugh. Encouraged, Dustin took a deep breath and entered. Kirsten kicked off her shoes and plopped on the bed. Her, "What do you want to talk about?" was barely audible.

"You. About what's up with you."

"Nothing's up with me, Dustin."

"Nothing? You've been acting like you expect me to run for the door the moment your back is turned. Ki, if I didn't want to be here with you, I wouldn't be. I don't have the energy to play at shit."

Voice flat and distant, Ki stated, "Shanny talked to you. What did she say?"

"I didn't need her to talk to me; the vibe is easy to pick up." When she didn't speak, Dustin sat on the bed and prompted, "Look, let's not waste time with Kelberg and her advice. Tell me what you need." Yarma couldn't believe what he'd just heard himself say. Darcy would've laughed in his face if he'd made an open ended offer like that. He opened his mouth to retract it with what humor he could muster when he realized something potentially important - Ki wasn't laughing. She was looking at him with tears in her eyes. Dustin swallowed hard and waited.

"Hold me," Ki requested in a small voice that didn't even sound like her to Dustin.

"Sure," he replied, slowly gathering her into his arms, kissing the top of her head after positioning it to rest on his chest.

They stayed like that for a long time, she leaning on him and he running his fingers through her hair. Surprisingly, Dustin didn't begin to fidget. He was too focused, seeking signs that Ki was feeling better. Slowly but surely, she relaxed. When she sighed and snuggled still closer, Dustin smiled. But when she lifted her head, his heart leapt to his throat. She looked so sad.

Reacting rather than thinking, Dustin cupped her chin in his hand and whispered, "Tell me." Ki shook her head. So did Dustin. Then he leaned in and kissed her as gently as he knew how. Staring into her eyes, he murmured, "Please."

"I'm scared."

"Of what, Ki? Not of me!"

"Of me. I'm scared of me."

Dustin nodded in acknowledgement that he'd heard her words but knew he wasn't any closer to understanding. "Are you going to hurt yourself?" he asked tentatively.

She nodded slowly.

"Jesus, Ki, what the hell are you thinking?"

"Not not like that."

"Like what, then?" Dustin winced at her slight flinch.

Shaking her head, Kirsten asserted her own agenda. "What would you say if I said that I wanted to tie you down and dominate you?"

Dustin's mouth dropped open in surprise, but his initial supposition that she was kidding died when he looked into her eyes. Ki was serious. Instinctively, he tried to match her mood. "You don't have to tie me down to dominate me. All you have to do is smile or lick your lips or any of a number of other things. And you don't need me to tell you that." Just as he growled his last statement, Dustin had a revelation. "Did you need to hear me say it, Ki?"

Chin up, she whispered, "What would you say if I said that I wanted us to be exclusive?"

"I'd say, we are. Aren't we?"

"What if I said that I wanted more of your time?"

Dustin had already been thinking that he needed to spend more time with her if she felt like this underneath her "real woman" exterior. "I'd say that I'll see what I can do. And I'd mean it."

Eyes intensely boring into his, she asked, "What if I said that I wanted us to be forever?"

Forever? She wasn't playing around; she was invoking the C-word. Not consciously acknowledging his fear, Dustin ventured, "Forever's a long time, Ki. How about we start with the decade?"

She responded grudgingly to his coaxing smile. "All I get's a decade."

"With an option on the next one."

"Decade with option?"

Dustin shrugged to hide his nervousness. Evasion, however good humored, didn't look like it was going to cut it. "Here's where I stand on the forever issue, ok? We've only known each other a couple of months, but I'm willing to consider it. Seriously. That's the best I can do, babe." He took a deep breath and murmured, "Does that work for you?"

After a long, drawn out sigh, she replied, "It'll do, little boy."

Eyes widening slightly, he realized that that was the first time she'd called him that tonight. She definitely wasn't faking this. Whatever this was exactly.

"I'm exhausted," Ki admitted. "Can we just cuddle tonight?"

Finally, an easy question. "Ok."

Kirsten kissed him and settled against him more comfortably, prompting Dustin to ask, "Here? In the dungeon bedroom?"

"Can we? I don't want to get back in the car."

"I guess. Can I take off my jacket and belt at least?"

"Take off however much you like."

Laughing, Dustin shrugged out of his jacket. "How much are you going to take off?

"Everything. But I was planning on wearing your shirt so I don't tempt you to break the cuddle only rule."

"Good idea."

Before long, the two were comfortably ensconced under the blankets and in each other's arms. The kisses were caring and supportive, rather than passionate. And Dustin realized that it wouldn't be difficult to sleep, even in their somewhat forbidding surroundings. Just before he drifted off, Dustin thought about how Ki had awakened him the morning after she'd given him a killer massage. The woman had an amazing mouth. Returning the favor had a certain appeal.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Four days ago - The office

Dustin Yarma didn't bother to look up at the sound of a quick double knock. He recognized Suzanne's signature tap and didn't let it disrupt his concentration on the treatment he was reviewing. Slowly, he became aware of the presence of more than one other person in the room. A giggle lifted his eyes from the paper.

Five administrative assistants were standing in a rough semi-circle on the other side of his desk. Suzanne was holding a dozen roses in what looked to be a crystal vase. A second had a bottle of Perrier-Joulet champagne with a huge white ribbon around its neck. The others were holding boxes of various sizes.

"What's all this?"

"Deliveries for you," Suzanne informed him with a smirk as she set the flowers down on his desk. "Here's the card."

Understanding that they weren't going to leave until they saw everything there was to see, Dustin sighed and opened the card.

Congratulations on the casting coup of the year. Let's hope that Drew and Brigitte finish the shoot before the catfights begin.

Oh - about your gifts - some assembly is required. The boxes are numbered. Go in order. I'll present myself for "unwrapping" as early as I can.

Ki

Laughing, Yarma asked, "Can I have box number one?"

"Here it is," Roger said. "Way too heavy for any of these lovely ladies to carry from reception."

Painfully aware of their scrutiny and that Suzanne would demand to see the card later, Dustin slowly opened the box. A bag of ice. Smiling, he glanced at the champagne bottle and asked, "Two?"

Elaine offered a relatively large, square one. Dustin lifted the lid and his eyes widened. An ultra-modern design, sterling silver wine bucket.

"I think I can assemble this without supervision," Dustin asserted as he tore open the bag of ice and set about chilling the champagne.

"There're still these two," Linda noted, gesturing with the packages she held for emphasis.

When he hesitated, Suzanne instructed, "Open them, Dustin."

Reluctantly, Yarma reached for the smaller rectangular box. Resisting the urge to shake it, he simply lifted the lid. He regarded the blue tissue paper with a frown; there was no way for him to see what this was before his hovering assistant did. Accepting his fate, Dustin moved the paper and gasped. Exquisite and extremely fragile crystal champagne flutes were carefully nestled inside. He examined one more closely to satisfy his curiosity. Made in Sweden. Excellent. The admiring noises from around the room convinced Dustin that he wasn't alone in his assessment.

The final package also worried him. It was lighter than the rest and a number of embarrassing possibilities as to its contents flashed through his mind. A quick glance confirmed his suspicion that his audience was waiting with decreasing patience. With some trepidation, Yarma opened the box and saw silk, high quality, blue and black. The card atop the gift attracted Dustin's attention, so he put the present down on his desk to attend to it.

He had barely gotten the card out of the envelope when Suzanne breathed, "Oh my God, Dustin, it's beautiful."

His assistant was holding up the silk robe, and Dustin smiled as he remembered Ki saying that she liked electric blue on him.

Linda and Elaine were each fingering a different sleeve, whispering and eyeing him surreptitiously, and he suddenly wasn't sure how he was going to go about getting the robe safely back into its box.

He also recognized that he couldn't afford to worry too much about the robe right now. Suzanne had gone into speculative mode; Dustin recognized that look. Silence wasn't a good idea when she got like that. "My colors," he murmured and hoped that he didn't have a stupid smile on his face.

"According to who?" Roger asked with a smirk.

"Someone with a better understanding of the color wheel than I do," Dustin offered. Gesturing toward the door with the card he held in his hand, he stated, "Ok, people, show's over. Time to get back to work."

Suzanne's colleagues slowly made their exit; she carefully folded his robe. Dustin pretended he didn't notice, focusing his attention on the card.

I've rented a place over the Thanksgiving weekend. Could I convince you to join me if I promise that this is the only thing I'll let you wear for five whole days? What do you say, little boy? How 'bout, "Yes, ma'am?"

Ki

Without looking up, Dustin ordered, "Clear my calendar from the Wednesday before through the Monday after Thanksgiving."

"Did you say clear?" When Yarma nodded as casually as he could, Suzanne grinned at him and drawled, "Dustin's taking a vacation. With only a little over a week's notice. My, my, my, Mackey will think you're defecting."

"Do me a favor," Dustin requested, returning her grin, "and don't tell him I'm not. I think I've earned a raise and a little fear might just get me one. And, I'll make you a deal. I get a raise before the end of the year, so do you."

"Sounds good. But enough shop talk, Dustin. Who are you vacationing with?"

He'd come to value Suzanne highly and had always told her about his girlfriends in the past. He hadn't mentioned his increasing interest in Kirsten. And Dustin knew why. It wasn't that he didn't trust Suzanne. He did. It was himself that he didn't trust.

Taking a deep breath, Yarma met Suzanne's eyes. "Kirsten McCall."

"No way."

In reply, Dustin offered the card that had come with the flowers for Suzanne's inspection.

"Ki, huh? I didn't think she liked boys."

"I think she cultivates that impression to keep from getting pawed constantly."

Suzanne giggled. "Oh, and you've been the perfect gentleman."

"I have, more or less." Indignant and a trifle embarrassed, Dustin muttered, "You'd be proud; I wait for permission these days. Safer."

"Why? Does she have a bodyguard for the bedroom?"

"Worse than that-Shannon Kelberg watches me like a hawk."

Suzanne was laughing as she moved toward the door. "I'll clear your calendar for Thanksgiving and the rest of today after Kirsten gets here. Ok?"

"Perfect. Thanks."

When she reached the door, she added, "Let's get us those raises."

Dustin nodded, arranged his presents on his desk and tried to collect his thoughts. Eventually, he managed to refocus on the treatment he'd been reading, but it was torture to work when all he wanted to do was think about celebrating Thanksgiving with Kirsten. For the first time in a long time, Dustin actually felt thankful. For a man who had everything he did, that was a damning admission.

Just as he tossed the treatment aside in admission of his preoccupation, Kirsten McCall walked into his office. Smiling, she nodded at the flowers and chilling champagne among the paperwork littered across his desk. Dustin stood and held his arms open for her.

Kirsten slipped into his embrace and whispered, "Congrats, Dustin," before allowing him to kiss her. What started out as a gentle "thank you," transformed into a deeper, highly sensual and far more meaningful bit of non-verbal communication.

When he lifted his head, Dustin was trapped by the intensity in her eyes. He couldn't look away or stop his hands from gently framing her face. Appreciating the significance of the moment without really understanding it, Dustin murmured, "Thank you, Ki."

"You're welcome," she said, smiling jauntily up at him and kissing him quickly on the nose. "But I'm just taking care of my little boy."

"Good care, sweetheart," he allowed before admitting, "I'm not used to that."

Kirsten hugged him before encouraging him to sit down. "Well, you better get used to it," she announced as she settled onto his lap. "I like spoiling my men."

After that day, Dustin had very pleasant memories of sipping champagne in the aftermath of amazing sex. They'd made a huge mess when they had taken the action to his desk. And they'd laughed and laughed when they'd realized his office door had been unlocked all the while.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Yesterday - The house

Dustin strolled into the main part of his house, looking forward to some peace and quiet. Keeping Drew Barrymore's people from strangling Brigitte Michel's hadn't been easy. They were arguing about billing. Dustin had managed to finesse the contracts, specifying only that the billing would be "mutually agreeable." Now, everyone was working overtime to find something that worked for both actresses.

"Hey, baby."

The movie producer looked up quickly from the mail he was halfheartedly sorting. He hadn't expected Kirsten to use her key tonight and couldn't keep from smiling. This alternative to a quiet evening alone he could accept. "Hello, Ki."

As she approached, he noticed that she was wearing one of his dress shirts and speculated that her outfit included not much else. Just like in Kelberg's bizarre bedroom.

Before he could comment, she turned sultry, asking, "What do you want, little boy?"

His jaw tensed slightly as he admitted, "You." "That's the right answer, gorgeous. Take that jacket off. Now!"

Dustin shrugged out of the silk suit coat he was wearing, eyes glued to hers. Damn it, no other woman had ever done this to him. They all demanded his complete attention, but Kirsten actually got it. He wasn't sure why.

"Lose the belt."

He did and reached for her. She stepped out of range and asked, "Shoes? What do you need those for?"

Never hesitating, he kicked off the offending footwear and sent the socks the way of the shoes as fast as he could. Kirsten glanced briefly over Dustin's shoulder. Puzzled, he started to turn.

Dustin froze when she growled, "Look at me. There's no reason to look anywhere but at me. Hands at your sides, Dustin."

Frowning, he tried not to react. But when she was like this, his body betrayed him. Particularly when, as now, she was smiling at him, her eyes promising all sorts of very good things.

"Keep still. And relax, baby, I've had a very good day and I want to end it the same way."

Dustin wondered what had put her into this mood. Kirsten moved closer and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. She made sure that she teased and kissed and licked every inch of the skin she was baring. He'd lost track of time and was trembling uncontrollably when she whispered, "Take it off, Dustin," into his abdominal muscles.

It? Oh, the shirt. He managed to comply, trying to stay still otherwise and failing miserably.

By the time Kirsten had paused in her efforts, he was whimpering. His need was palpable and she luxuriated in it as she slipped out of the shirt she was wearing. After biting his shoulder to get his attention, she kissed him, slowly and thoroughly. Dustin was lost. He didn't care. He couldn't. He had no control.

By the time Kirsten let him up for air, he was bucking against her body like a randy boy. She frowned in displeasure. He looked at her with apologetic and helpless eyes, and she decided it was indeed appropriate to attend to his pants. Yarma was groaning as he kicked out of his confining garments. Finally, they faced each other, naked and aroused.

Kirsten, sensing that her advantage was total, pressed it. Clever fingers soon had Dustin arching into her hand and moaning incoherently. She maintained the stimulation and he broke.

"Oh God, please, Ki, please, Jesus, God, fuck, baby, sweetheart, don't don't stop. That's that's so damn good, babe, please, just, oh God, please, please, shit yeah, oh, Jesus ."

When she dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth, he lost the ability to form words other than her name. Kirsten looked up at Dustin, and his eyes were closed and he was repeating it as though it were a mantra.

She withdrew her mouth and stood, kissing Dustin before he could protest, trapping his erection between their bodies. Their tongues dueled until Dustin sought air. Kirsten began to whisper in his ear almost immediately. "Bed, Dustin. Take me to bed. I need you. Right now."

Roughly, he pulled to him and kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth. When she met his aggression with a clever tongue, teasing hands and maddening motion of her hips, he moaned, "Let me fuck you, Ki. Don't tease, babe. I'm so damn hard; you're making me crazy."

"Bedroom, Dustin. And watch your language."

Kirsten giggled when he picked her up and moved with a purpose to his bedroom.

"Can't fucking think and she wants me to actively edit."

She giggled again when he tossed her on the bed and covered her body with his.

"Laughing at me, little girl. We'll see about that."

Laughter gave way to other sounds and amusement to other emotions.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Back to today - The house

Ki waited until we were holding each other on the verge of sleep to tell me. That Minnow had been there when I got home that night. Making himself a drink and inventing new ways to proposition her. I never even saw him. I remembered Kirsten looking over my shoulder vaguely, but I hadn't turned around. Good thing, she said, and I have to agree. The bastard had been masturbating as he watched us. To the same rhythm she set for me, Ki said.

I don't know what I would've done if I had turned around. And I don't know what to do now, regardless of having lain awake all night trying to figure that out. It's only a matter of time before Minnow fucks this up. Jesus, Ki and I are a 'this.' How did that happen? How could I let myself become part of a 'this?' So what now? Maybe I should just end it before it gets ugly. That would serve Minnow right. Only problem is Kirsten. She won't let me. Stubborn doesn't begin to cover it with her.

"Dustin? You look exhausted. Didn't you sleep?"

It was only when Kirsten spoke that Yarma realized that he'd been peripherally aware of the waking up movements of the woman in his bed. "I ah ."

Eyes concerned, she brushed stray locks of hair off of his forehead and whispered, "Is something wrong?"

Suddenly, he was certain, an unusual feeling of late outside of the work context. "Yeah. There is. Do you have to go right now?"

She glanced at the clock on his bedside table before replying, "I've got some time. Talk to me, Dustin."

He knew that they shouldn't have this conversation in bed, but he couldn't bring himself to change the venue. In all likelihood, Ki wouldn't want to have anything to do with him after he told his tale, and Dustin recognized that he wanted to hold her for as long as he possibly could. The warmth of her body was a drug; he was addicted.

And once he started talking, he didn't trust himself to stop for fear that he'd never get started again. "It's about Minnow and how I met him. And it's kind of a long story, but you need to know this about me. So, here goes. After a really boring awards dinner, some friends of mine and I went out to a bar. Several bars, actually. Along the way, we picked up a couple of girls and some bottles of champagne. We were really drunk and stopped at the beach. And ."

When Dustin finished, he risked a look at Kirsten. She was thinking, her expression unreadable. Knowing he had nothing more to say, he waited. The silence extended uncomfortably. Dustin's mind raced, frantic to come up with something to break the tension. All that came to mind were glib and not so glib lies. He didn't have the will to utter any of them. With a sigh, Yarma threw back the bedclothes, determined to make it to the shower with some remnants of his dignity intact.

"How long ago was this?"

Startled, he blurted, "About two years."

"And he's stuck to you ever since?

Hesitantly, Dustin admitted, "More or less, yeah."

"Do you realize what you've done?"

Anger and shame colored his snarled, "I just told you."

"I meant by the act of telling me."

"Kirsten, this wasn't easy for me; I'm not at my most clairvoyant. Tell me whatever it is, don't make me guess."

In the spirit of keeping him off balance, it seemed to Dustin, Ki moved closer and kissed him lightly. "You've taken Minnow's power away."

"Taken what?" Dustin had graduated to full fledged confusion. He didn't take; Minnow did. But Ki was smiling at him. And she shifted to straddle his thighs and put her arms around his neck, so that he couldn't get out of bed without lifting her off of him, something he discovered that he didn't want to do. She seemed ok with this, and he didn't know why. But Dustin was sure of one thing -- he needed to understand. "How do you figure?"

"Think about it. I've told you that the pumped up look and the "You're so beautiful" schtick don't work for me. The only thing Minnow could have done to us was to tell me that story before you did."

"Yeah, well, it isn't like he couldn't tell--."

"Who, Dustin? Who's he going to tell?" When Dustin didn't reply, she offered a possible answer. "Your boss? Mackey's got you slated to take over and is probably making offerings of virgins to pagan gods that one of the majors doesn't steal you from him first. He'd laugh Minnow out of his office."

Kirsten tapped Dustin on the nose before she continued her speculations. "The police? Please! It doesn't matter who swung the bottle; you both hid the body. And neither of you said anything to the cops over all of this time. You're co-conspirators. You'd both go to prison for about the same length of time. Minnow doesn't want that."

Yarma nodded slowly. "I told him that when he was debating moving out of here. I think it helped him decide."

She ran both hands through his hair and proceeded with her litany. "The press? No way. With Minnow's recent track record at the studio, it would look like jealousy. Very petty. His ego's too big to go that route. So who does that leave? Your friends? Any family? Your assistant?"

"No one else knows," Yarma admitted softly.

Ki's eyes widened at that, but she recovered quickly and reminded, "You do have choices, little boy."

This time that particular term of endearment brought a small smile to his face.

Ki noticed and cupped his chin in her hand before elaborating, "You tell the ones you can trust. Otherwise, you perfect your indignant look. I can work with you, if you want. And, worst case, a few of them believe him. Are they really going to run out and turn you in?"

When she said it, the rationale sounded more plausible than when he thought it. Still unsure, he muttered, "I don't know."

"I do. They might steer clear of you, but that's it. People don't go looking for trouble." When he shrugged noncommittally, she continued, "Besides, it was an accident, Dustin. I saw your face when you described hitting that girl. I'm not gullible and I believe you had every intention of connecting with Minnow's skull if you could've. But not hers."

Quietly, Dustin stated, "I would've killed him that night. And I wouldn't have regretted it for a minute. I regret what did happen every day." Somehow saying those things with Ki on his lap and sunshine streaming into his bedroom window lifted a little of the weight from his heart.

"You should regret it. No question. But you can't let Minnow manipulate you anymore. He has nothing to hold over you." Kirsten stared into his eyes for a long moment before demanding, "Promise me that it ends here."

Her strength bolstered his. And Ki's belief in him that made Dustin think that he might be able to do as she asked. Biting back the confident lie because Ki had earned better, Dustin said, "I'll try. I promise."

"And I won't let you fail." Ki smiled wickedly as she added, "But I will let you do lots of other things, little boy."

Dustin smiled, leaned back and rolled over so that Ki was beneath him. "What sort of things?"

Her eyes were serious when she whispered, "I want you, Dustin."

For the first time since a few minutes after that ill-fated swing of a champagne bottle, Dustin felt as though he deserved the things he had, even if he'd been incredibly lucky with respect to the new woman in his life.

It felt good.

End

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

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