Down on Your Knees

(First Class)

By Trynia Merin and Jade

07/15/01

Disclaimer: KISS, Gene Simmons, and "Stone Cold" Steve Austin are real persons, and the portrayal here is purely fictitious, with no harm intended to the individuals. Calen McGregor and associated characters of Luck of the Irish are property of Jade, © The Black Rose collection. Terri Mason is property of Trynia Merin, © Trynia's Journies. Please do not use without permission from either author.

Chapter 1

First class had always been something Terri had heard about, but until present circumstances she had rarely utilized. Now it seemed a way of life. For the last few months this life had been transformed from a workaday nine to five job to a globe girdling rush. It was the entire fault and doing of the man who she sat next to, scribbling notes into a leather planner.

Terri pushed hair out her face, and continued to depress keys on her laptop notebook. That screen she scrolled through now was filled with someone else's words. She realized now those entire scenes would have to be rewritten from scratch. It was a screenplay, derived from a novel called Forever Stirling, a beautiful love story, which had just reached the New York Times bestseller list. This novel had so impressed Gene and other producers that they had eagerly taken on the task of creating a motion picture. Unfortunately there had been a dispute between the screenwriter and some of the staff and cast members. This particular screenwriter had not interpreted the story to the satisfaction of the novel's author, and to the dismay of many of the cast and crew. His snotty reply and constant arrogant and offensive attitude to everyone besides the director had resulted in his dismissal by Gene, the motion picture's producer. Annoyed by Gene's so called impulsive action, the director demanded to know where he could find another screenwriter on such short notice, since there was a writer's strike pending in Hollywood.

That was when Gene gave a slow smile and admitted he knew a screenwriter who would be up to the challenge. A relative unknown who had penned a few scripts for the Practice, and assisted on the writing of the final episode of Voyager. In fact it was the woman who now sat next to him who had taken up the challenge of overhauling the script for a motion picture, and giving it the authenticity and flavor of a real Scottish town. She had taken out the comedy scenes and added 'padding' and converted it into a poignant romance, as the author had originally intended.

Unfortunately the project had consumed most of her waking hours, causing no end of frustration for her. She threw herself wholeheartedly into the project, even to the point of working on it during this transatlantic flight to the studios in Edinbourough. Both she and Gene were going to take the first revisions to the on location crew already at the filming sight at the actual town of Sterling. So into the revisions was she now that she failed to notice when the steward came by with the drink tray and leaned over them both.

Gene nudged Terri, and she almost pushed her laptop off her tray table. "You want anything love?" he asked her.

"Uh yeah…I'm not sure what though," she answered distractedly. However when she glanced into the slender face and cheerful blue eyes she couldn’t help but smile. Especially with that attractive accent and his striking resemblance to Hugh Grant. A rather young Hugh Grant.

"On second thought I could do with something hot…" she mused, winking at him.

"How about coffee? Very strong coffee…"

When the steward he had poured coffee for both of them, Gene glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. He watched her thoughtfully with his chin resting on his hand, stirring cream and sugar into her cup of java.

"Don't even start," she sighed. "I saw you undressing that stewardess with your eyes…"

"Who said I was complaining," Gene returned. "We're both entitled to look and sample the merchandise. We're not dead or blind, love."

"Well just so you know you can't have all the fun," she affirmed.

"Of course not. That would be intensely rude of me, and inconsiderate. Besides, you know how much more fun it is to see that look of desire on your face…"

"Indeed," she nodded back. Taking a swig of coffee, she turned her attention back to the laptop in front of her. She pushed the glasses further up her face and focussed on the latest scene.

"How is the screenplay coming?" he asked her nonchalantly, sipping his own coffee.

"I'm stuck on this one scene… how could this hack of a screenwriter leave out the impact of the line 'shockwaves of passion' from his version? When he kisses Victoria, the kiss should reflect that. It shouldn’t' be this tonsil hockey match, but a very gentle kiss… as if he were sampling a bottle of wine for the first time…"

Gene laughed at her terminology, for he noticed her worn copy of Forever Stirling at her left hand, folded open to the corresponding page. Nudging her he said, "Well this is a motion picture. I don't think shockwaves of passion quite translate in the same way to every writer. What you interpret as the visual meaning of shockwaves of passion doesn't translate the same to him…"

"That's the problem, getting a common denominator," Terri said, glancing at him. "I just don't know…"

"Well, just put yourself in the audience. Make this the movie you'd want to see. That's what Paul and I did when…"

"I know I know, you guys became the group you wanted to see. Well I just don't…"

"Now don't go losing your self confidence now," he teased. "And after all my hard work…"

"Your hard work?" she raised an eyebrow.

"To get you to admit that you are an extremely talented woman, that's all."

"You are entirely too good to me sometimes," she blushed. "But I have to get back to work. Speaking of hard work, how would you describe shockwaves of passion?"

"Good question," Gene smiled slowly. "What is the problem exactly? Is the problem that you can't put it into words, or that you can't visualize it?"

"Both and neither… my creative juices have dried up…"

"Let me help you then," he whispered knowingly.

"Gene…" she let out a warning groan.

"This is research," he laughed. "Now, what sort of a kiss were you thinking about, visualizing for the scene?"

"Something halfway between tender and firm… something like this…" she said. Leaning over she pressed a brief yet soft kiss to his lips.

"Nice," Gene commented, stroking her lips with his finger. "But if Ian got a kiss like that I don't think he'd be overly convinced of anything… except how scared she was… or else that she was giving him a 'friendly kiss-off' type kiss."

"Well Mister Smarty, what would you suggest?" she grumbled, almost ready to tear her hair out in frustration at her writer's block.

"Relax love. Perhaps a kiss like this…"

Leaning over he slipped his arm behind her neck and covered her lips with his own. They relaxed into each other's arms, leaning over the armrest to embrace each other. Her hand slipped under his leather jacket, stroking up and down his shirt.

"I'd say that was closer to what I had in mind," she sighed when she surfaced to catch her breath. Again he leaned forward; tugging her close in his leather sleeved arms. His eyes smoldered with that look that drove her crazy, as if to peer deep into her soul.

"The look is right…" she gasped. "But it's still rather difficult to imagine any sort of shockwaves--let alone any passion--when my neck is killing me…"

"Why didn't you say something?" he clicked his tongue. "Turn around…"

His fingers slipped under her collar, rubbing the trapezius muscle on her back lightly, then with more intensity. He probed just how tense the muscles seemed, even feeling the beginnings of a knot forming. It was a challenge to work out the kinks slowly without releasing it all at once, for that would result in a very painful outreach of the tension. Why was she always so tight when she was writing, he wondered. When he had first met her it was much worse, and gradually the problem eased over time. Now it was back, worse then ever. Like him, she wound herself up too tightly when it came to business.

"It's hard to work without you unbuttoning your shirt," he whispered.

"Gene, this is the middle of a transatlantic flight… on British Airways… a rather prestigious airline… first class!"

"So? It's the middle of the night and half these people are plastered or passed out from exhaustion anyway," he whispered back, lips vibrating against her sensitive ear as he lifted her hair aside.

"True, but still I prefer the cover of dark. Wait till they turn down the lights… it sets the scene much better… wouldn't you say?"

"Mmm hmm," he nodded. For now he'd continue to massage as she worked on the scene, using the opportunity to peer over her shoulder to see what she was typing. He slowly lifted the back of her shirt and unfastened her bra, reaching up under the fabric to rub his hands over her lower back and shoulders. She leaned against his knee, pulling her computer on her lap to work.

"Don't you have some more things to plan in your production schedule?" she asked.

"I'm doing a little prioritizing now…" he whispered, kissing the back of her neck gently.

She grabbed a blanket from under the seat and tossed it over them both, knowing it would be exceedingly difficult to wait till the lights went down to make her move.

"It was getting a little chilly," she said with a wink, settling down again. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, continuing to peer at the scene shaping up before him. "Hmm, seems as if you're adding a little extra material there…"

"Well it's dialogue that was cut by this screenwriter… I don't see why it has to be cut when he was trying to 'pad' the script!"

"What dialogue?"

"This whole page here!" she said. Terri pushed the novel into his hand and showed him where she had underlined in red. Gene compared the versions on screen and off. Halfway through Victoria's line he noticed Terri was only typing with her right hand now. He smiled when he felt something creeping up his leg under the blanket, working steadily upwards. Stealthily it wriggled its way into his front pocket. Arm around her shoulders he pulled her closer to him to peer at the screen blaring into the cabin.

He let out a low moan, pretending to keep his composure when she turned her head to glance at him. "I'd definitely put that part back in," he whispered.

"You do?"

"Most definitely…. But what have we got here?"

"I know what I have here. It never should have been cut out…"

The motion of her fingers melted his self-control every passing second. She knew exactly what she was doing, and he loved every bit of it. Her aloof nature was driving him wild, dragging out the tension as she continued to type with the one hand and explore him with the other.

"I thought you were working on the screenplay," he scolded.

"I am…" she winked at him.

"This film was supposed to only have an R rating," he said.

"Oh stop, I only have it up to a PG-13 so far," she groaned.

"Well, I do have some friends in some of the other studios who might be interested in an NC-17 version…"

"Oh knock it off," she laughed. "All they want is a good F-fest…they don't care if those movies have a plot or not…"

"Well I beg to differ," he laughed. "Every good B movie and porn flick should have a plot, even if it's to set up the sex scene. Makes it more interesting…"

"I don't think you want them to fire another screenwriter, do you?" she laughed.

"No way. Not after all the trouble I've gone through to find the perfect replacement," he said, stroking her chin as he leaned over her. Gently he traced her lips with his tongue alone, pressing a light, teasing kiss to her lips after the contact. It was too brief to satiate the hunger rushing through her, but just enough to wet her appetite for more.

Her laptop clattered as her shoulder bumped it in her effort to turn to face him. "Whoops," she said.

"Let me help you with that," Gene offered, reaching around to rescue it from the precarious edge of her knee. He snapped it shut with a definitive click, after hitting save on the menu. Shifting it into the bag, Gene pushed the tray table away and secured it. He felt her hand start to pull out of his pocket, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"Keep that there," he laughed lightly.

She returned his lascivious grin, leaning up into his arms to touch her lips to his. He worked his arms around her, pulling her close to him under the blanket. Lips met and explored hungrily as if for the first time, starting in a gentle touch that became something far more heated. Button by button he began to unfasten her blouse and slip his hand under it to caress her chest with his hand sliding between both their bodies.

"Gene, do you really think this is a good idea?" she whispered into his ear this time, nosing his dark hair aside.

"I don't just think it's a good idea, I know it's a good idea. Besides, they've just dimmed the lights now…"

"I know… I'm not blind," she quipped. Gene ignored her verbal jab, turning up the smolder in his gaze again.

"Ever joined the mile-high club?" he asked her.

"I don't believe so," she answered back, breaths heaving her chest up and down. At his amused smile she laughed ironically, "You're not seriously thinking… wait…scratch that. You would, of all people."

"How well she knows me…"

"Inside and out…" she added.

"I like the sound of that," he cooed, the undertone of Demon slipping into his lowered voice.

"I knew you would. But this isn't the KISS jet…"

"That's what makes it more fun. The possibility of getting caught. It's a big turn on…"

"You're awful…"

"Awful what?" he asked with a wicked grin. Indeed his hand had disappeared beneath the blanket, steadily creeping up her thigh to the hem of her skirt. By then it had tugged down on the pantyhose, his fingers slipping along the edge of her waistband. She bit her tongue to stifle the giggles in the dark. Her hand retaliated with a firm grip on him through the fabric of his pants.

"Ooh, now you're being a bad girl," he whispered, stifling his own groan, and shaking a finger at her. "And no bad deed goes unpunished."

"That's a fact. And what are you going to do about it?"

"How about… this…" he challenged, tugging down her stockings.

"Or if I did this…" she whispered back, moving her hand. He slipped a finger under the hem of her underwear now, working his own brand of mischief to match what she was doing to him.

"This is getting serious," she laughed.

"C'mere and say that," he said, slipping his hand out of her clothing. He unbuckled his seat belt and pulled her hand out of his front pocket.

"I dare you to change seats with me," she whispered. In such an exchange, everything Gene and her did would be clearly visible to any nosy patrons or flight attendants that happened to walk by. If Gene remained in the aisle seat he could block any view of her with his sizable body. Now the odds were raised of them being caught, and he enjoyed it.

"I like a woman that rises up to the challenge," he answered, unbuckling her seatbelt. Climbing over her while she shifted over, he sat down in the window seat now. Terri repositioned the blanket over them both once more. No one had noticed anything yet in the dimmed cabin, humming throughout with the whine of the jet engines.

"I thought you were supposed to do the rising, actually," she laughed. He couldn't resist a grin. At last she was getting into the spirit of things. About damned time, he thought. Since when had she become so type A all of a sudden?

Gene leaned his back against the cabin wall, extending one leg out past her while resting his foot on the floor. She shifted forwards and faced him with her hip turned to the side. Up and down his chest her fingers smoothed the fabric of his denim shirt, working at the buttons. Now their bared chests pressed together as they moved close for another soft hungry kiss. Her sensitive nipples firmed up under the silk of her bra as it stroked up and down the contours of his chest and belly.

"That's more like it," he whispered, parting to catch his breath.

Against her exploring hand he was firm under the denim of his pants. She worked her own underwear off, letting it slip to the floor. Gene reached down quickly and snatched it away before she could pick it up with her stockings. Taking both, he slipped them into his jacket pocket.

"Hey, give me that!" she said aloud, before feeling his finger on her lips. She tugged at the sleeves of his jacket, helping him lean forward to strip it aside.

"You're not going to lose them," he winked.

"Still, I would like them back. I didn't pack any extras in my carryon…"

"You could borrow mine," he laughed.

"And you'd wear these?" she laughed back.

"Sounds fun to me…" he said when he tugged her bra out of the way and pushed her shirt down off her arms. She reached down to tug his shirt free of his belt, reaching down momentarily inside.

"I can do without the air conditioning," she whispered. "And how can I borrow yours when you aren't wearing any, Smarty?"

The feel of her fingers unbuckling his belt and freeing him from the confines of the denim was difficult to resist. Especially when coupled with the sensation of her bare chest rubbing up against his, with the trappings of clothes still present. Leaning forward he pulled her hips and guided her to straddle him. He moved just enough for her to work her legs around his waist behind him and position himself so both were comfortable there. Thank God British Airways had the extra wide seats, he thought. Even though he couldn't have given a damn where they were the next few minutes, he didn't look forward to dealing with the possible cramps later.

Under her she pulled aside fabric and shifted into position very carefully. He let out a low sigh as he felt himself slip into her slowly. Even though it was a long flight, and they would both benefit from sleep, he knew she'd enjoy this as much as he would. Who really could sleep on planes as well as other places anyway?

"Relax, love," he whispered. Around him she seemed tense and tighter then usual. Especially considering how often they made love lately. This was serious, he realized.

"I can't help it…" she moaned, struggling to relax and enjoy how delicious he felt inside her.

"Even though I love how nice and tight you feel around me now, Terri, there's something bugging you. You've just been so tense lately. What's wrong?"

"Didn't you say the revisions had to be done by the time…"

"Don't think about that, right now," he said, through deep breaths. "You'll have plenty of time to work on it when we're there. After all, filming takes months… and right now you're not supposed to be thinking about work. You're supposed to be staying right with me here, and enjoying yourself just like I am…."

Her next protest blended into her low moan at his first gentle thrust upward. Her second cry she stifled by biting down hard on her tongue. He leaned forward, and whispered, "Stay with me. Let go…"

"I'm sorr…"

He cut her off with a deep kiss and a series of rocking thrusts upward into her. She gripped the sides of his face and buried her moans in the kiss, silently praying they wouldn't get caught. What could they do anyway, throw them off the plane? Gene thrust his tongue deep into her mouth to muffle his own moans. Her whimper through the kiss gladdened him, as she slowly began to relax inside. However it seemed as if she were holding back, resisting somehow.

"Sweetheart, are you all right?" he asked, pulling out of the latest kiss to catch his breath.

"For some reason I just can't… come," she said quietly, stiffening there on his lap. Still she felt embarrassed about using such simple crass terms to describe lovemaking, but considering whom she was with, what need was there for such formalities?

"Don't worry about it. Just let me help you get there, love. I'll take you where we both want to be this time. Just sit back and enjoy it. I certainly am…"

Gentle kisses around her face and neck combined with his hands massaging over her chest. All his efforts coalesced into one single effort to release the whole knot of tension her body became. His tongue bathed her neck and chest, following the path of the dim moonlight seeping into their pool of darkness. Through the cabin window she saw the moon peek over the wing, bathing Gene's hair in a cloud of silver highlights. Each soft lick pulled her closer to the edge of that chasm she struggled to hold onto, and Terri realized she just had to let go and let herself fall into the passion this time. His thrusts increased in tempo, matching her movements. She could sense him holding off his own pleasure for her to climb to the top first.

"Mm hmm that's perfect, sweetheart," he groaned. "Let go… give it to me… awwghhhhhh…"

"Oh…. Gene mmmmmm!" she groaned back, grabbing his face and kissing him deeply.

At last the pent up frustration exploded into a tide of bliss rushing outwards, and Gene felt her whole body tense, then relax. She buried her head in his shoulder; her teeth taking a fold of his skin between them and clamping down to stifle her cry. He still embedded himself firmly inside of her, continuing to work her to a second pinnacle to join him this time. His release surged into her sweetly, flooding her depths with nothing between them. He exhaled deeply, gathering her into his arms to savor the closeness they shared in this public place.

Terri felt the pounding blood in her ears slow to a stop into the drone of the engines. Was it the pressurization in the cabin, or just her ears refusing to pop, she wondered? Either way she was feeling a strange headrush that shot through to her outermost parts in a blistering rush of relief and well being.

"Oh Gene, thanks so much…that is just what I…" she whispered. "This is sounding so stupid but…"

"I know. You needed it, love. And there's nothing you have to worry about, trust me. You'll kick their verbal asses with those rewrites."

"You are entirely too good to me sometimes…"

"It's a dirty job but someone has to do it…" Gene breathed into her ear.

"Is that why I love you so much," she chuckled.

"You tell me sweetheart. I know I love hearing you say those words… and the lady saying them…"

She pulled up the blanket that had fallen onto the seat behind her, and draped it over her shoulders. She lay her head on his bared chest as he lay back, leaning his head on a pillow she shoved behind his neck. They shared a sigh of contentment, weariness setting in. Gene gingerly raised his other leg to rest it across the seat, shifting to get comfortable under her. It wasn't long before they both fell fast asleep.

Chapter 2

"Excuse me, Sir… Ma'am…"

"Hmm?" Terri muttered, opening one eye.

"Terribly sorry to bother you. Do you want breakfast?" someone was asking. Terri shifted in Gene's grasp, lifting her head from his chest.

"Give us a few minutes," she said, blinking in the daylight. Suddenly she remembered where they were and blushed profusely, laughing.

"Gene?" she nudged him gently under her, pushing a strand of hair from his face. Breathing lightly in his ear, she pressed a soft kiss to his temple, then to his lips.

"Rise and shine…"

"One of those I can manage, but not the other," he quipped, opening his eyes to look at her.

"Better wake up," she laughed, kissing him softly, on the lips this time. "Unless you want a rather rude awakening."

"Now how would that be possible, considering the scenery, love?" he asked, blinking in the morning sunlight that streamed in through the window next to them.

"Well considering some people don't share your sense of comfort about their bodies, I think it would be advisable to put ourselves together… unless you want to swim the rest of the way to merry ol' England…"

"All right, you win for now," he laughed, stirring under her. Under the blanket they helped put themselves back together. She buttoned up his shirt as she shifted off his lap, and they toweled each other off a bit. He helped to slip on her bra and blouse again, stepping over her to get into the aisle. Reaching up he shifted his backpack down and started to root through it, extracting his shaving kit.

"Be right back…" he promised, kissing the top of her head. Terri wrapped herself in the blanket as she finished dressing. So far people were just rubbing their eyes and mumbling to themselves. Across the aisle there had been no one, thankfully. The steward had not seen them both half-naked under the blanket; not that Gene would have given a damn in the least if they had.

"How can he be so comfortable about that?" she laughed to herself, working a comb through her hair. She got up and dug her makeup bag out of her overnight bag. Cool air hitting her legs reminded her she still didn't have her underwear. With a mischievous grin she grabbed Gene's backpack and whipped out all of his pairs of clean underwear, stuffing them into her bag except for one. She'd show him a thing or two about taking hers! She thought with a laugh of mischief.

When she returned he was in the window seat again, glancing over a morning edition of the Daily Mirror. He smiled when she sat down, and smoothed her skirt under her again.

"So did I kill your legs last night?" she joked.

"Mmn, not at all," Gene sighed, stretching luxuriously. "I love having a sexy woman fall asleep in my lap."

"Aww, he's in form today," she blushed, as he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. How spoiled she was with all the attention, but how she would not trade it for the world! Especially the past nine months, which had been a roller coaster ride of sweet pain and sweet pleasure. With Gene she had experienced many things that she had only dreamed of or written in stories, and here it seemed the most natural thing in the world to be riding with him in First class on a British Airways flight to Edinburgh!

They sipped coffee and ate their breakfast in relative peace and quiet, interrupted only by the sounds of the plane rousing to life around them. The flight had been pretty much booked, and would land in London's Heathrow airport. From there it was a quick trip to a private chartered flight up to Scotland. There came the distant cry of what sounded like a baby waking up in the coach class, behind the curtain to the rear of the compartment.

Terri couldn't help turn her head for a moment to listen, and caught Gene's thoughtful glance up from the paper. "Sounds like the natives are restless," she joked.

"Somebody get that kid a bottle, or something," he laughed.

Her face flushed when she suddenly recalled that he had children of his own. Granted they were living with their mother, when he had separated from his long time girlfriend Shannon Tweed of several years, in the mid-nineties. Yet it seemed to be a fact she had pushed back to the rear of her thoughts lately. She had met Shannon, who had been at Calen's home one particular day, and found her to be an intriguing and effervescent person, considering she had been a playboy playmate and B movie actress. Gene liked his women to have at least a few brains in their heads, after all.

Children. Something she had considered an option, but never thought she would be in a sort of relationship permanent enough to even contemplate recently. On the verge of thirty, Terri didn't exactly consider her biological clock ticking, but the thought crossed her mind how many women her age were already mothers of multiple children, or divorced a few times over. She felt as if she were frozen in time, on some shelf waiting for the right set of conditions, which would never come except in the proverbial blue moon, or the alignment of the planets.

Calen was in a similar phase in her life, anticipating children at some point in her future. However Calen insisted on a husband along with the package, and a stable household. It ran contrary to many Hollywood situations, but Terri was certain she wouldn't take "no" for an answer. Either total commitment or none at all was her rule.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" Gene asked her. She snapped out of her funk, and pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear nervously.

"Oh… nothing…"

"Don't play that game with me," he laughed. "I know you too well by now to know when you've got something on your mind. Worried about the screenplay… because if you are… we still have at least half a day till we get to where we're going…"

"Well… sort of," she confessed, pretending to finger through her purse all of a sudden, in an attempt to pull out her lipstick. Her hand brushed past the slender case containing the birth control pills she had started to take for the past six months. Strange how she'd never had a need for them before now.

"This may seem like a dumb question, but what is it like to be a parent, having kids? Considering you have a few of your own…"

"That's a jump in topic," he laughed. It was a statement, not a question she knew.

"I was thinking about Calen. She said she would love to have children some day, but considering the fact she's a celebrity… I don't know how well that would work… considering the second fact that most Hollywood marriages don't seem to last… and Calen…well she said she would prefer to be married when she had them…"

"If anyone in Hollywood is going to get married and stay that way, it's Calen," Gene said with certainty in his soft voice. "Believe me. There is no compromising with her…"

"You think she's found the lucky man?" she asked.

"Calen and Steve you mean?" Gene mused. "Hard to say. But he's the most promising in a long time… Say, why do I get the feeling that Calen's not what you're really talking about here…"

Just then the rest of his question was cut off by the announcement blaring over their personal speakers, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are on final approach for Heathrow Airport. Please buckle your seatbelts and return your tray tables to the upright position…"

Terri exhaled deeply, looking away so he could not see the red flush of embarrassment on her face at that moment. How easy it was to forget how slick Gene was, and how difficult it was for even an intelligent woman like her to put anything past him! She picked up the small customs card and began to peruse it in some vain attempt to keep the topic changed. Gene buried his head behind his paper, sensing her awkwardness.

********************************************************

That thought of Terri's musing that morning continued to nag Gene into their charter flight to Scotland. It seemed related to Calen having children, which seemed a natural issue for a woman of Terri's age and circumstance as well. After all, she had no children either, and was unmarried in the midst of her career. Would she expect such a development in their relationship? Gene already had two children that he knew about by his former lover Shannon Tweed. They were almost teenagers by now, and would spend a good amount of their vacations with him till recently. Both he and Shannon remained friends after the separation, which was a good thing for both parties involved, for shortly after that he had begun dating Allison. Both had gone their separate ways in their careers, citing differences in objectives as the reason for their separation. It had been for the best, they had both said.

They could not avoid the issue for long, Gene nodded. It was inevitable a question as any in a relationship. He and Allison had even discussed it, and her answer had been a clear 'not right now'. Although now she had been dating Brad steadily for the last two years, and both of them were expecting their first baby, due in four months. How suddenly things could change in a relationship, which proved to be as dynamic and fluid as change itself.

Terri had buried her head in her laptop again, as Gene had dove headfirst into the latest stack of production reports for the movie. There were many budgetary concerns, they had the executive producer, and the director tossed all. Unlike a director or a screenwriter, the term producer was nebulous at best, referring to some contributor in a financial or creative manner. In Gene's case it involved some degree of finance, and some degree of suggestions on casting. He'd been the one to suggest Calen as the leading lady, a decision wholeheartedly supported by the rest of the production team.

He heard a click as Teri closed her laptop and settled down in her seat. Laying her head against his shoulder she soon drifted asleep. Jet lag started to claim Gene too, and he pushed aside the reports for a more scintillating pursuit. Slipping an arm behind her he pulled her to rest more comfortably on his chest, stroking her soft silky hair with his hand. Carefully he tugged off her glasses and slipped them into her pocketbook to keep them from getting crushed. Outside the landscape undulated, playing peek-a-boo under the wisps of mist and fog. It never failed to rain in Scotland, Calen had said. The last time Gene had been to Scotland and England was on the KISS reunion tour in 1996. Terri had mentioned she had been to England before, but never Scotland.

Reaching up under her skirt, he teasingly ran his fingers along her stockings. His hand brushed against the strap of a garter, and he chuckled to himself. She insisted it was a practical solution to the frustrations of putting on pantyhose, for she once complained it was so easy for her to put a run in conventional hosiery. A more frivolous one displaced that former question of Terri's musings over children when he slipped his hand higher. When his hand contacted cotton instead of soft silk, he raised a curious eyebrow.

"Son of a bitch," he laughed. "That's where they disappeared to!"

Reaching a hand into his leather jacket he tugged out her underwear, black silk lined with lace. Not a thong, but a high cut silky creation by Victoria Secret. In her sleep Terri moaned and stirred, prompting Gene to press a soft kiss to her forehead and lips as he withdrew his hand. He would have to find some interesting location and opportunity to remedy this turn of events.
 
 

Chapter 3

At the hotel, they checked in, and got their belongings in order. Terri and Gene wandered down to the pub connected to the hotel lounge, finding a seat at the bar. Both had heard that the production team would meet them there, and Terri tried hard to hide her nervousness.

All in all, it went well, and Terri was both glad and relieved to have it over as soon as possible. Gene watched quietly as she delivered her proposed script to the other script editors for revisions. Then they were advised to relax and adjourn for the night.

The Scottish hotel was quaint yet cozy, with spacious rooms furnished in antique style. The large bed on which Gene reclined and watched television was canopied, set with richly crocheted covers and lace sheets. Terri sat at a rolltop desk, typing on her laptop.

"Sweetheart, why don't you turn that thing off and come on over here and keep me company for a change?" Gene asked, a low tone of Demon underlying his voice.

"I guess I could stand a break again," she smiled as she moved over to sit next to him on the bed. He extended his hand to her, and she took it. He pulled her to lie next to him, and pillowed her head on his chest.

"I thought we could have high tea," Terri whispered to Gene.

"All these customs," he chuckled. "Here or down in the restaurant?"

"Here," she nodded and lightly moved him aside as she picked up the phone.

Minutes later their tea arrived in a fine gleaming set of silver. She poured them both steaming, hot tea into two cups that seemed as if they were left over from the Victorian era. Leaning over the bed she pressed a light kiss to his ear.

"Man, this would blow the hell outta anyone's damned diet," Gene shook his head as he felt his resistance melting into nothing at sight of the eclairs and other various treats.

"Since when did you complain about dessert?" she asked him.

"I'm just jerking you around," he laughed.

"I love the sound of that…" she laughed back, stroking his knee lightly through the leather pants.

"Hmm, bread and butter comes first right? That's what Calen told me about this British stuff…"

"Wait, you've got to try scones," she suggested. "This is a cream tea I ordered…"

"Interesting," Gene nodded, playing her game. It was nice to see her take the initiative for a change. Taking his teacup from him, she placed it on the table, and leaned over him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "What do I eat on a scone, since you're the Anglophile?"

"Just what you'd put on bagels, except instead of cream cheese it's clotted cream. Strawberry jelly, and clotted cream…"

She reached for a scone, and then dipped her spoon in the jelly, dolloping it on the surface of the cut pastry. Then she slathered cream on it.

"Clotted what?" Gene asked with a chuckle. Terri shoved a piece of scone into his mouth to shut him up, and he looked at her with surprise.

"Not bad. But I know what would be even better with this…"

A dollop of cream landed on Terri's shirt and she groaned. Gene leaned over and lapped the mess off, and then their eyes met, smoldering brown to smoldering brown. Terri pushed him back on the bed, and started to stroke her hands over his shirt. She slowly unbuttoned it, kissing softly after each was undone.

He reached for the strawberry jam and clotted cream, and suddenly Terri got a wicked look in her eyes. They seemed to be thinking the same naughty thoughts when she spooned some of the cream on his chest and belly, following it with a smooth smear of butter and strawberry jelly. Leaning over she began to lick off the sticky mess. Gene sighed with deep pleasure at the feel of her tongue on his body, and slowly began to unbutton her blouse as well. Lightly he pushed her off of him, and indicated the eclairs.

"My turn next…" he said with a grin.

Later, much later they lay on the bed with towels under their nude forms to protect the precious bedsheets, licking up the rest of the cream and chocolate that had smeared over them. Terri had smears of chocolate and éclair crumbs on her chest, while Gene was sticky from strawberry jam, and streaks of cream still clotted his dark hair and goatee. Reaching over he picked up a teacup and poured a portion of steaming hot Darjeeling for her. Raising the cup to her lips he tipped a bit for her to sip.

"I'll have to hand it to the British for some customs that I could live with," he laughed, letting her hold the teacup to his lips and tip a bit into his mouth.

"I don't think this was what they had in mind," she laughed, lapping off the rest of the cream. Gene set aside the cup to one side of the table, and pulled her close to him. Her lips tasted of strawberry jelly mingled with chocolate, and hungrily he thrust his tongue past them to taste the sweetness of her inside. Under the pounding of the blood in his ears Gene heard the television blaring with a news program overtop of the end of the movie they had on in the background.

Reaching around Terri, he lifted the remote to turn the channel. Still he kept the kiss unbroken, pulling her on top of him as he wrapped himself around her and continued his exploration of her soft sweet mouth, and other parts he loved so much.

Just then his blood ran cold, and he stopped in mid kiss, as he heard the next words, "Calen McGregor, 31, best known for her Oscar nominated role in Braveheart is right now fighting for her life in a Los Angeles hospital. Sources say that she was found at the bottom of her stairs outside of her Beverly Hills home this afternoon, but no other information was forthcoming. The nature of her injuries is sketchy, but her condition is listed as critical. Local police have not ruled out the possibility of foul play."

"Holy shit…" Gene got out as he turned around, and flicked up the volume. "No fucking way…"

"Calen?" Terri asked. "Damn… are you sure…"

"Crystal clear as fucking day!" Gene snapped, getting off the bed. Terri grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Gene, don't lose it now…"

"What the hell am I supposed to fucking do?" he shouted.

"Stop shouting for one damn minute and let me think!" Terri yelled back, her grip on his wrist tightening. Even though her hands were small, the strength in her fingers pinched Gene's wrist tight enough to snap him out of his tirade.

"This isn't helping Calen!" she continued firmly. "Why don't we call someone she knows and see if we can find anything else out before we do anything else?"

"Yes…" Gene nodded, scrambling for his cell phone. Terri heaved herself out of the bed and helped him to look, both still stark naked. Grabbing it out of his briefcase he stabbed buttons anxiously.

Terri sank back onto the bed, aghast at his reaction. While Calen was a good friend of Gene, that paleness and shock in his face scared her. She had seen such a look in someone's eyes before, when her mother had been in an automobile accident, and her father picked up the phone just as the police called.

It had been a look of desperation, at the thought of a loved one's life being precariously close to death. Just what was the magnitude of Gene's affections for her? His hand shook when he tensely listened to whoever it was on the other end of the line. Terri put on her bathrobe, and sat on the bed, not knowing what to do. Anxiously Gene glanced in her direction.

"So… how is she?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Dark eyes went duller with each passing minute. It was far more serious, Terri's gut told her. Far more serious then the television report. Slowly she began to toss her clothes into her suitcase, almost anticipating a quick trip back. When she reached Gene's things, she began to fold them automatically. Gene clicked the phone off, and saw her packing.

"How is she?" Terri asked, trying to keep her quavering voice under control. "It's bad, isn't it…"

"Yes," Gene nodded soberly, gripping the phone tightly. He grabbed a shirt from the pile of his things, and threw it on, hunting for a pair of pants. Terri shoved the pair she was holding into his grasp.

"Want me to call for reservations?" she asked, trying to get some control of the situation, any control as Gene got dressed.

"No I'll do it. You just get yourself ready to go as soon as you can okay? We're gonna get the hell back there!"

Before long Gene had called for the next flight out of Scotland direct to New York, which fortunately was a nighttime flight that they could reach within the next two hours. They got a ride from one of the film crew and anxiously boarded the plane, unsure of what they would find…

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Fear mounted more with each passing second the closer they seemed to approach, and Gene's mood went from tense to dark. Terri saw the transformation and couldn't help but be disturbed by it. How much did Calen mean to him, she wondered? Were there some unrequited feelings he had never revealed to her for this woman? How close were they, and how close had they been? Calen had said that Gene and she were never lovers. It was possible for Gene to care deeply for a woman without wanting to bed her, she knew. But the anger and fear she saw in his eyes haunted her. It was a part of him she would probably never share, and that too frightened her. Of course there would always be places of each other's lives they could never share together, and that was natural. There were so many details of their lives that remained secret, that a new morsel could be released each day for discovery. Wasn't that the pleasure and pain of loving someone?

Unfortunately, not every secret would be pleasant; Terri reflected staring down at the cluster of lights that revealed the presence of New York City far below. Four more hours would take them to Los Angeles, and the unknown. Calen was now part of that unknown fear that faced them both. Would she live or die, Terri wondered. It sobered her to think this woman she had come to know, so vital and strong, being on the knife's edge between life and death.

At first Gene sat quietly aloof and alone, while they flew from Edinburgh to New York. Terri had left him sit there in his pool of silent contemplation to withdraw to his own private thoughts. Hers wandered into uncomfortable realms of dark uncertainty before surfacing at the voice of the steward.

"Ma'am please, could you put your tray table up? We're about to come in for a landing…"

"All right," she said, and reached over to refasten Gene's table as well. He slumped against the side of the airplane in the window seat, fast asleep. She pulled him to rest his head on her shoulder, for the long descent.

As far as they had come, there were three thousand miles more to go. Three thousand miles could be crossed in a matter of hours, but it did not increase her sense of relief. It seemed that whatever Calen's state was, she had the horrible fear that they could never be there in time.