A Lonely Place

"Okay, stop right there."

"What? My dad is a good man!"

"The idea that I'm sleeping with my daughter creeps me out."

"You're planning on making this sleeping with me thing a habit?" Carmen said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, shut up and get in the car." George said, throwing up his hands in mock annoyance.

"Where are we going?" Carmen said. George opened the door for her and she got into the passenger seat.

"My house."

"Thought it was a disaster?"

"I remedied that," George said as he shut the door. He got into the driver side, and pulled into the street.

"May I smoke?" Carmen asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her coat pocket.

"Sure, as long as you roll the window down," George responded.

Carmen lit up, and smoked slowly. They were quiet for a few minutes.

"The other night, you said you were 'living in a lonely place'. What does that mean?" George asked, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

"It's something my father used to say about my mother. 'She lives in a lonely place, no one reaches her there,'" Carmen imitated her father's Mexican accent. "Mother never let anyone get too close. I feel the same way sometimes, especially the past two years. Living in a lonely place, not allowing anyone too close, atoning for my short lifetime of sins."

"You were never a bad person, Carmen."

She laughed bitterly. "No, but I was never a very good one, either. So, I'm not atoning so much for what I did, but what I didn't do. Know what I mean?"

"I think I do, Carmen. I think I do," George said quietly. He thought about why he became an agent in the first place, and the number of smaller injuries he caused while trying to help the greater good. All the people that got hurt because he had to keep quiet, and not blow the investigation.

"You didn't tell me you lived out in the country," Carmen said, breaking George's reverie.

George laughed. "It's not the country. It's the suburbs."

"It's got trees and it's quiet. That's country enough for me. I'm a city girl, remember?" Carmen said teasingly.

George shook his head, laughing. He felt lighter, like a weight he didn't realize he had, lifted.

"Here we are," he said, pulling into his driveway. They got out of the car. "It's not a very big house-"

Carmen stopped in the driveway, looking at his little 1940s one-story brick house. She looked wistful. "It's wonderful."

"Wait until you see the inside. You may change your mind. Come on."

He herded Carmen into the house, and into the kitchen. He took her coat, hanging it up, and handed her a large plastic pitcher of water for the flowers.

"Sorry, don't have a vase," he said. He threw his suit jacket over a chair at the table, and took off his tie. He rolled up his sleeves and started getting out food, pans and utensils to make dinner.

Carmen stood at the threshold between the kitchen and the living room, in awe. She took in the everyday clutter of living, the furniture, worn but comfy, George cooking food.

"This is too fucking weird," she said.

"What is?" George asked. He poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her. She took it, dazed.

"This. All of this," she gestured to include the whole house, including George. "It's so... so...normal." She took a swig of the wine. "The fact that you have wine, of all things. You wearing a suit. It's like you're cultured or something. I mean, we used to swill bad vodka from paper cups, and slept on a mattress on the floor of an abandoned warehouse."

George put the seasoned meat in the oven. He walked over to Carmen and pulled her into the kitchen. He sat down in a chair, settling her into his lap.

"You're not the person I knew," she said sadly. George stroked her hair back from her face.

"I am, in a lot of ways. In most ways, in fact. All of this-" George made the same all-encompassing gesture Carmen had made, "is just trappings. Have I treated you any differently as George than I did when I was Patrick?"

Carmen shook her head. She wouldn't look at George. He squeezed her gently.

"Why did you want to find me?" he asked. Carmen sighed, swirled the wine in her glass.

"At first, I wanted revenge. I wanted to make you hurt as much as I did. I felt used- that I was just a means to an end for you to get Tommy. As my search wore on, I realized that I actually cared for your arrogant ass, and wanted to make sure you were okay." She looked at George.

"Once I knew your real name, and that you were still amongst the living, I was going to leave you be. The lonely place took over, and I had enough to answer for without finding you and causing more damage. Believe it or not, you showing up at the diner was a coincidence. I saw you in the booth, and I couldn't resist. You looked like you were out in the lonely place, too."

George frowned to himself. "I suppose you're right. I've always existed there, though. I can't let people into my life, because they might get hurt, or killed, or they might endanger me when I'm undercover. The fewer people that know me, as George St. Germaine, the better."

"If we're both there, that means we can be a little less lonely, don't you think?" Carmen whispered.

"Yeah," George said as he took the wine glass from Carmen. He set it on the table. Carmen cupped George's face in her hands, rubbing her knuckles along his bristly jaw.

"Did you just use me, George?" she asked, looking deep into his eyes. George internally shrank from her intense gaze.

"No. Well, in the beginning, yes. You were the easiest way to Tommy. You had his confidence in a way no one else had. But by the end- no. I specifically told the agents in charge of the raid to grab you, and get you out. I called in a few favors to get the DA to offer you the best deal he could. Thankfully, you willingly gave him all the information he needed."

"In exchange for immunity. I wouldn't settle for less."

"Smart girl," George said, tapping her nose with his fingertip.

Carmen smiled. She leaned forward and kissed him, very light and teasing, more like just pressing her lips against his than a real kiss. She pulled back a fraction, then kissed him again, hard and hungry.

George's arms convulsed around her, hugging her tight. Carmen whimpered, and bit his lip while pressing herself against him. His whole body reacted at once. He crushed himself against her, wanting to crawl inside her skin. He was hard and desperate, and wanted her so, so badly. He envisioned throwing her down on his kitchen floor and thrusting himself into her, hard and deep. He imagined the howl of pleasure she let loose the other night, and wanted to hear it again.

He loosened his grip, and softened the kiss, trying to dampen the urgency raking at his body. He darted his tongue between Carmen's lips, played with hers. She sucked on his lower lip gently. He felt the desperation rising again when the timer on the oven went off.

"Dinner," Carmen murmured against his lips. The vibration from her voice moving across his lips made George's cock jump. He didn't think it was possible to get any harder, but somehow, he did.

George let his head fall back, and stared at the ceiling. "Yeah. Dinner."

"We can continue this after dinner, if you like. But I'm starving," she said. She nipped his chin with her teeth, and got off his lap.

"You're not the only one that's starving," he muttered. He groaned and hauled himself to his feet. Carmen busied herself setting the table and refilling wine glasses while George finished the meat and cooked some vegetables.

They sat down at the kitchen table. At first it was awkward. George felt like he was on a first date. In a way, he was- George dating Carmen, versus Patrick dating Carmen. Patrick didn't really date Carmen; he pestered her until she gave in. George felt that he needed to change that.

Eventually, conversation became easier. They talked a little about their families, told funny stories about their childhoods. They carefully avoided talking about their past together.

After finishing dinner, Carmen insisted on doing the dishes, despite the fact that George was willing to leave them dirty in the sink. Carmen rolled her eyes, muttering something about men and pigs in filth. Once everything was clean, George slid his arms around Carmen's waist.

"So, where were we?" he whispered as he kissed her. She stood on her toes, pressing her body against his.

"Right about here, I think," she said. She placed her hands on either side of his face, her fingers in his curly brown hair. She looked at George with kindness, her eyes soft. The urgency and desperation that had colored the evening earlier ebbed.

George led Carmen to the bedroom. She started to unbutton his shirt, but George took her hands away, and held them behind her back with one hand. He used his free hand to unzip her dress, slowly. The dress fell open, and he caressed her skin, starting from her throat, over the swell of her breasts, down her stomach. He stopped, cupping her between her legs. He pushed his fingers against the cloth of her panties, stroking.

Carmen breathed deeply, tipped her head back slightly and closed her eyes. George bend down and kissed her neck, where it met her shoulder. He let go of her hands and pushed off her dress, so that she stood only in her underwear. He stepped back from Carmen and admired her. She opened her eyes and looked at him, a question in her eyes.

"I didn't take a good look at you the other night," he said simply. He let his gaze wander from her face, soft and glowing, down. "You really are beautiful," he said as he kissed her again languidly.

George unclasped her bra, slid it off her shoulders. She tried to touch him, but he gently pushed her hands away. He wanted to explore her, without distraction. He cupped her breasts in his palms, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. Her nipples were deep brown, surrounded by tan skin. He felt them become erect. He rolled them lightly, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Carmen.

She watched George intently as he continued to caress her breasts. Her scrutiny nearly made him lose his control, so he buried his face in her hair. She smelled like soap, under the odor of diner food. He concentrated on her scent, willing his cock to calm down.

Once he regained his composure, he resumed his caresses. He slid his hands down her back, inside her panties. Her butt was smooth and round. He pushed the material off, so that she was completely naked.

He laid her down on his bed. She was quiet and still. He braced himself over her, and kissed her. He kissed her jaw, her neck, between her breasts, her stomach. He parted her legs, and ran his fingers through the tangle of dark pubic hair. He pressed his nose into the curls, breathing in. She was musky and sweet, like he remembered. He gently spread her labia with his fingers and touched her clit with the tip of his tongue. With a feather-touch, he passed his tongue over her clit, back and forth. Carmen arched her back, keeping her hips still.

George lowered himself to slip his arms under Carmen's thighs. He increased the pressure with his tongue, rubbing slightly harder with each pass across her clit. She gasped, and her hands fisted themselves in the blanket. George felt her hips buck.

His tongue continued massaging Carmen's clit, while he slid one finger inside her. She was slick. He used the wetness to slide a second finger inside. He pressed upwards with them. He changed the movement of his tongue to quickly pulsating it against her clit. Carmen let out a loud, shuddering sigh. She pulled on the blanket with her fists, her head thrown back hard.

George moved his fingers in and out of Carmen, slowly. Each time he entered, he pushed upwards, feeling the wall of her vagina. She let out a series of moans that got louder and longer, and arched her lower back against the bed, trying to keep her hips still. George kept pulsating his tongue against her clit, creating a rhythm between his fingers and his tongue.

Carmen arched her back once more, and came hard against George's fingers. He felt her vagina push on his fingers, and her body shudder. She cried out softly. George stopped moving his tongue, and slowed his fingers down. He laid his chin on her pelvis, watching her drift on the waves of the orgasm. Her vagina fluttered around his fingers a few more times before he slipped them out, and moved up her body to brace himself above her again.

Carmen's eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. He hovered his lips just above hers. She opened her eyes, and he kissed her.

"I want to feel you inside me," she whispered against his mouth.

She unbuttoned his shirt. He let her. He sat up next to her, took it off. She unbuckled his belt, and undid his button and zipper on his pants. He stood and pulled them off. She ran her fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers, then pushed them off.

George stood naked before her. She studied him as closely as he had studied her. She skimmed her hands over his jaw and chest, tugging lightly on his chest hair. She ran her hands over his hipbones, over the knife wound scar. She planted a small kiss on it. She stroked his cock with her hand. He was hard and aching, but clenched his fists and let her explore. He closed his eyes, and concentrated on breathing.

Carmen rose up to her knees, and kissed George. She touched her tongue to his lips, seeking entry. He opened his mouth, and she plundered it with her tongue.

"There's condoms on the dresser," he murmured. He gasped when she pinched his nipples on her way to the get one. She returned to kneeling on the bed. She opened the package, and put the condom on him.

"Now, please," George practically whimpered. He cursed himself for feeling like a randy teenager, but he didn't know how much longer he could last.

Carmen smiled. She took his hands, prying his fingers loose from their fists, and pulled him down on top of her. She arranged her legs around him, pelvis to pelvis. She took his erection in her hand, and guided him inside her. When he had buried himself completely, she put her hands on his ass, and held him inside.

"Slowly," she said. He felt her release some pressure on his ass. He pulled out, and then thrust back in when she pushed him.

"Slowly," she repeated. The release, pull out, push back in dance was repeated. George let himself be guided by her hands. Carmen felt relaxed underneath him. After a few more thrusts, she slid her hands up his back, resting them on his shoulder blades.

George gritted his teeth, and concentrated on keeping the pace Carmen had set for him. It was slow, so slow, it was torture. In, pause. Out, pause. He chanted in his head. Carmen watched him lazily.

Just when he thought he was going to die of the slow pace, Carmen whispered in his ear. "Faster. As fast as you want," she said.

George went in and out slowly once more, then he slammed himself into her. Carmen gripped his shoulders tightly and groaned. He thrust into her again, and she groaned louder. He began pumping faster, pushing himself as deep as he could. Carmen's nails dug into his shoulders.

He rode Carmen fast and hard. She groaned and kept pace underneath him. He felt the orgasm, building since before dinner, finally burst forth, racking his body. His fists bunched up the blanket on either side of Carmen's head. He gasped and moaned, and felt like his entire life was exploding out the end of his cock. He collapsed on top of Carmen, shaking.

Carmen pushed the hair out of his eyes, holding his head up to look at him. George struggled to stay awake. Carmen slipped out from underneath, rolling him onto his back. She removed the condom, threw it in the trash. She pulled the blanket loose, and draped it over their bodies. She snuggled up against him as he drifted off to sleep.

George drifted in the state between awake and asleep for a while. He felt good, like he was cocooned in warmth. Especially his dick. His dick felt like it was coated in thick, wet heat, like a hot towel, except much better. Alive. He sighed, and tried to shift. He found himself encumbered. He slowly rose through the layers of fog covering his brain, and realized what was going on.

Carmen had her mouth wrapped around his dick. That at least explained the warmth. He was about to protest, when his brain finally caught up with his cock. He slammed into consciousness, and gasped.

Her tongue was engaged in wrapping itself around the head, twisting. Then her tongue slid down the underside, moving the head to the back of her mouth. She bobbed her mouth up and down, while her hand pumped the shaft underneath. On the upward movement, she twisted her tongue around the head. Her hand gripped him tightly, moving the skin.

George moaned and groaned, and cursed himself again for being like a randy teenager. He was so close to coming. He could feel the pressure in the base of his cock, ready to surge forward any second. Carmen continued to move her mouth, hot and wet, on the head of his cock, while her hand squeezed the bottom.

George couldn't hold back any longer. He came, letting out an unrestrained howl. He felt himself spurting into Carmen's mouth. She swallowed, her throat working.

George sagged back onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling.

"I feel wrung out and hung out to dry," he muttered. He could barely move. Carmen bounced up to face him.

"Morning, sunshine," she said with a grin on her face. She kissed him quickly. He tasted the salty cum on her lips. If he hadn't just expended what remained of his life, he would have found it a turn on.

"Morning," he said. He turned his head to look at the alarm clock. 5am. Christ. "It's too early to be up."

"Not for me, it's not. I've got a double shift today. And you need to drive me back to the city," Carmen said cheerfully. She got out of bed, and started picking up her clothes, and putting them back on.

"Call in sick. I'm planning on it." Or dead, George thought. Yeah, calling in dead would be more accurate. He flung his arm across his eyes to block out the overhead light Carmen turned on.

"C'mon, lazy bones." Carmen cajoled him out of bed. He grumbled curses about morning people. He put on some clothes, and Carmen pushed him out the door to the car.

The next week flew by for George. He almost appreciated being stuck on desk duty, since he was distracted most of the time. One of the research assistants remarked that he was downright cheerful, and joked that he must have been sampling from the evidence room.

He picked up Carmen from the diner after her shift was over, and they had dinner, and sometimes watched a movie, or talked. He found that Carmen was a font of random and strange knowledge, as well as bad jokes from the old guys at the diner. They had some of the most mind-blowing sex George had ever had. Carmen had been good before, but now she had a confidence that seasoned it that made it even better. He was also finding that he was falling in love with her again, in a way that he couldn't before. He was just George, and she accepted him that way. The loneliness in his life eased.

George was eating his lunch at his desk, reviewing case files when his desk-mate-and- sometimes-partner, Parks, dropped a piece of paper on his desk.

"Seen that yet?" Parks asked, settling into his chair across from George. George mostly ignored the paper.

"Seen what yet?" he asked, jotting down notes onto a legal pad.

"Memo from Walsh. Seems Tommy Callaghan weaseled his way out of prison."

George's head snapped up. He grabbed the memo and read it.

It was short and direct. "Thomas Andrew Callaghan, sentenced to life in prison without parole, was released Tuesday."

George fought down the panic rising in his chest. "Why was he released?"