Via Sub Rosa, by Scifinerdgrl Part 8

CHAPTER 28

"Donna Reed and Danny Thomas -- TV parents from the fifties,"
John explained.  I bet the rest of the files there are just as
bogus."

Monica sighed and turned to walk away.  John ran up behind her. 
"I'm sorry, Mon," he said, pulling her until her back was resting
against his chest.  Whispering into the hair over her ear, he
added, "I wanted to find answers for you."

"It's okay," she said, resting in his arms.  "It would have been
nice, but I never expected to find out."  She turned her head to
look into his eyes, and he smiled.  "Thank you for trying," she
said, then kissed his cheek.  She turned in his arms and brushed
her lips against his.  "I've been thinking more about my future
than my past, lately, anyway."

"Is that right?" he grinned.  "And what does the future hold for
you?"  He let his arms drop to her waist and their bodies formed
a "V" as they leaned back, their eyes fixed on each other.

"Depends on whether you're talking near or distant," Monica
responded coyly.  "The near future involves finding interesting
ways to say welcome home to my fianc‚."

"That sounds good to me," he said, moving his hands to her
asscheeks.  "And in the distant future?"

"More of the same... lots more," she said, moving her hands lower
to match his.  They exchanged silly grins for a few seconds until
their moment was interrupted.

"Hands above the waist!" Gibson shouted, as he and Lita walked
past them hand-in-hand.

"Very funny!" Monica called out, but she couldn't help grinning,
and John couldn't help grinning with her.

"Should we chaperone them?" he asked, winking.

"I think we can trust them," she said thoughtfully.  "But I don't
know... Maybe we should..."  She started moving in the teens'
direction but John pulled her back.

"We can trust them," he said, smoothing her hair.  "We want
Gibson to have a normal life, remember?  Making out with his
first girlfriend on monastery grounds surrounded by telepathic
nuns isn't normal, but it's as close as he's going to get to it." 
He kissed her lightly on the lips and she could feel her skin
grow warmer.  "Let him be normal," he urged.  "He'll be alright."

He kissed her again and she melted into him.  "You can be very
persuasive," she whispered.  He wrapped his arms closer around
her and she breathed deeply.  "John," she said softly, rubbing
her hands over his chest.  "Let's lock the garage doors..."

He chuckled into her hair.  "Here?  You want to do it here?"

"In the truck," she purred.  "You've spent so many hours there...
"  With evocative movements she led him toward the truck's rear
doors, then opened one.  "Look," she said.  "There's plenty of
room..."

John pulled her back and slammed the door shut.  "Not here," he
insisted, afraid he might relive the experience in his mind while
driving with Gibson.  He grabbed her hand and continued pulling
her away and toward the garage door.  They stood at the door for
a moment and he put his hands on her cheeks as his eyes looked
lovingly into hers.  "When we're back at home, our real home...
we'll inaugurate the truck, the garage, the kitchen..." He kissed
her tenderly, eliciting a sensuous moan from deep within her
soul.  "The bathtub, the shower, the sofa." he added, pausing
between each word to kiss her, and finding a different place on
her neck with each kiss.  "We're still guests here," he said in a
deep whisper.  "Let's save the fun stuff for our own home."

"I can't wait," she whispered, then laid her head on his
shoulder.  On hand traced random patterns over his chest as the
other slipped behind him.  "I want that normal life too."

He rubbed a hand over her lower back, making wider and wider
circles until he was reaching toward her.  "We'll have it," he
murmured.  "Mr. and Mrs. Doggett will be the next Donna Reed and
Danny Thomas."

Monica's hand ran lightly over his shirt pocket, and when she
felt the hardness in it she reached in and pulled out the
computer disk.  Looking at it with a wistfulness and apprehension
that John wanted to wash away.  "I haven't looked into it," he
said.  Her expression didn't change as she continued turning the
disk over in her hand while hanging onto his rear belt loop with
her other hand.  He sighed, not sure what to say next, then
decided to leave it to her.

After a moment she said with hard-fought determination, "I want
to see what's in here."

"Okay," he said.  "Want me to stay with you?"

As if coming to from a dream she looked into his eyes.  "Of
course!" she answered, affectionately rubbing her hand over the
small of his back.  "I always want you with me!"  She could see
the hesitation in his face as he struggled with his next words,
then added, "If you only knew..."  She kissed his cheek and he
smiled weakly.  "You have no idea, do you?" she asked. He seemed
puzzled but she enjoyed this mystery, and she wasn't entirely
sure how to express her feelings about him.  She smiled
enigmatically and resolved to work more on her vow.  She should
tell him in front of everyone how much she relied on his
strength, courage, and morality.  But for now, she simply took
his hand and led him to the library, where they popped the disk
into the computer.

"Dammit!" Monica yelled when the screen asked for a password.

John stood behind her, massaging her shoulders as he read the
screen with her.  "Think it'll be something we could guess?"

Monica sighed then typed several phrases:  Via Sub Rosa, Gibson
Praise, December 22, 2012... Nothing worked.  "I don't know," she
leaned her head against his stomach, enjoying the feel of his
hands on her shoulders.  "Maybe it's not meant to be.  Maybe I'll
never know..."

"Let me try," he said, moving his hands off her shoulders and
onto the keyboard.  He tried a few combinations of words that
seemed to recur on his delivery route, but with no success. 
Monica put her hands on the outsides of his arms and started
rubbing, making him want to hug her and kiss away her worries. 
He leaned down, resting his chin on the top of her head, and in
the password box typed "John loves Monica," then pulled his arms
around her chest in a comforting hug.

To the amazement of both, a window opened, revealing a neatly
organized file tree, each branch seemingly in code.  "At least we
got in," John said, moving his chin to her shoulder and nuzzling
her neck.  "Maybe someone here knows this code..."

"I know this code," Monica said.  "It's Lita's code.  She started
teaching me."  She grabbed the mouse and clicked on a few
branches of the tree then said, "It's organized by date, using
the Mayan calendar..."  After a few more clicks of the mouse she
leaned back with a triumphant grin on her face.  "There they are. 
My parents," she announced.

"Monica..." John whispered.  "They were military.  Both of them."

"I know," she stared at the screen, not sure what to say next. 
John pulled up a chair and sat next to her, leaning closer to the
screen to see the rest of the details.  She placed an arm around
his shoulders, absently running her fingers along the worn seam
of his T-shirt.  "I thought knowing who they were would change
something, but I don't feel any different," she said,
disappointed.  "I don't feel anything."

"You said so yourself," John pointed out.  "Your real parents are
your adoptive parents.  They loved you and you love them."

Blinking away tears, Monica took a deep breath then closed the
file.  "That's all there is then," she concluded.  "Just a couple
of names, an address.  They're still not real people to me."

"And now you have two birthdays I can help you celebrate," he
said, giving her his most encouraging smile.

When Monica closed the window on her birth parents, and the tree
reappeared on the screen, John turned his head slightly, studying
the patterns.  "There may be more here than you realize," he
said.  He took the mouse and clicked on a few files.  "See these
numbers?  They seem to relate to the files but notice how they
also relate to the other records..."

Monica grabbed the mouse from him and started clicking, opening
file after file, growing more animated as she started to see
patterns developing. "You're right! This isn't just a file
structure," she said. "It's family trees.... Several of them! But
these numbers...?" she looked at John in confusion. "I don't see
anything there." 

"You have a relatively low number, but look here..." he clicked
on a file he'd opened earlier. "This person has a higher number,
as do the parents. Your mother had a high number, but your
father's number was zero. And notice here..." he clicked on
another file. "Both parents have low numbers and the child has a
low number. Monica, I think this is some kind of rating system." 

"Rating what?" she asked, but realized what the answer was before
the words were out. "We're all people of the via? But some are
stronger than others? How would they know in babies?" 

"Maybe not ability," John said thoughtfully. "Maybe something
else." 
"What?" Monica asked, looking into John's eyes for answers. 
At the sight of her troubled, chocolate eyes, John's breath
caught. His own eyes softened, and he stroked her hair. "We'll
figure it out. But don't worry," he said softly. "Whatever it is,
it won't take away from who you are."

She smiled briefly then looked again at the computer screen.
"There must be a key somewhere...." She made several more clicks
then gasped as she read one of the files that opened. "John---"

John leaned over and looked at the name on the file: "John Jay
Doggett.


CHAPTER 29

"What the...?" John cried out.  "I wasn't adopted!"

"You're sure?" Monica asked tentatively.  "Maybe you just
didn't..."

"I'm sure," he shot back.  "Damn sure!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean..." Monica stammered.  "It's just that..."

"Yeah, I know," he said apologetically.  "I thought all these
people were adopted.  But there's no doubt I'm not adopted.  When
Luke was born we had to do a genetic screening to be sure...."

Seeing John's face go blank as he conjured up a dim recollection,
Monica sat calmly with her hands in her lap, waiting for him to
say whatever had to be said.  Her attempt not to disturb him was
more effective than she'd expected, and he seemed not to notice
her presence as he clicked on several files.  His eyes darted
across each screen and his brow grew more furrowed as he read
each one.  Almost to himself, he said, "Gibson's not here. 
Neither is William."

"Recognize any names, though?" Monica asked, with a slight shake
of her head.  "Anybody from here? from your deliveries?  from the
X-Files?"  She slid her chair to the side and let him continue
clicking and scanning until he suddenly sighed deeply and sat
back with pursed lips.

"Before you joined the X-Files," John began, still staring at the
screen.  "I was led to a computer file of names, and it was
something like this.  They were people who were being targeted
for abduction and replacement based on their genetic profiles."

Monica's lips turned down and she gulped with some difficulty. 
"You mean I'm going to be abducted?"

He took her hand and stroked it, but kept his eyes on the files. 
Thoughtfully, he said, "Maybe, but I don't think so.  I don't
recognize any names here except yours and mine.  But look here,"
he said clicking on a file that seemed to be the last in its
tree.  Like many of the icons on the other end of the tree, the
file's icon had an "X" over it.  The file opened, and Jon said,
"Luke.  He had that genetic test after he was born.  The doctor
said there was something in Barbara's and my family histories
that put him at risk for some rare disorder, only neither Barbara
or me ever heard of any relative being sick like that."

"What do you think the test was about?" Monica asked, but before
John could speak she heard his answer in her mind, and she
verbalized it to be sure.  "It's about this?  The Via?  They've
been keeping track of people like us?"

"Looks like it," John said.  "But without knowing more of these
people..."

Monica grabbed the mouse and scanned the screen until she found a
row of X-ed out folders that ended in one without an "X."  She
clicked on it, then said affectionately, "Lita.  Catherine was
right.  She's the last of her line."

"Holy cow," John exclaimed.  "Look at that number!  That's the
highest number we've seen in these files."

"So it is a rating of ability," Monica conjectured.  "But why did
Luke have a number?"

"Maybe not ability, but potential," John suggested.  "Why else
have Luke tested?  Someone was keeping track of people who were
candidates for becoming super soldiers.  Maybe someone else was
keeping track of people who were candidates for becoming
something else."

"Or maybe," Monica said, thinking out loud.  "Maybe they're not
candidates.  Maybe they... or we.... already are something else. 
Maybe Lita's not just the last of the Toltec Mayans, maybe she's
something else."

"Where did you get that disk?" Catherine's angry voice rang out
behind them.

John quickly removed the disk and put it in his pocket.  "We were
just...." he stammered, then realizing the futility of lying to
this woman he confessed, "On my deliveries.  At the orphanage."

Catherine sighed and sat down heavily on a nearby chair.  "You
have no idea how much I hate to hear you say that."

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

"Why?" John asked, turning in his seat.  Monica turned in her
seat and Catherine found herself looking on a pair of identically
quizzical expressions.

"Because," she sighed.  "It means time is short.  Someone's
looking for you, and maybe he's found out too much."

"Brad," Monica said.  "You said he was looking for us before..."

"But besides our locations, what could he have found that's so
terrible?" John asked, his eyebrows raised, challenging the old
woman to come clean.

"Not terrible," she said calmly.  "But terribly important."

"Names of people, people of the Via?" Monica suggested.

Catherine shifted in her seat, as if preparing to tell a bedtime
story to children.  "A long time ago, thousands of years in fact,
the People of the Via lived openly.  We weren't in hiding like we
are now."  She paused to see how much the pair facing her had
gleaned from her mind, and deducing they hadn't learned much, she
continued in detail.  "As you already know, we were once
religious leaders, as we have been during other ages, but there's
something else.  We were leaders in every sphere, all across the
world.  It was our job to govern over the people who built the
pyramids, mined for gold and jewels, tilled the land....  We were
the lords of the manors, the kings and princes of nations, and
some of us were the famous despots reviled by history.  We were
the overseers, using our abilities to control and manipulate
others, and when that didn't work we killed them."

Monica and John seemed suitably shocked, but after checking their
reactions, Catherine continued as if it was an old,
well-rehearsed story.  "This was during the first invasion, and
soon our creators saw that we weren't so easily controlled. 
Peace-loving overseers refused to cooperate.  They were the ones
who founded monasteries and lived as heretics.  Others became
tyrants and made war on each other, destroying the booty our
masters had created us to collect.  Lita's people, the Mayans,
squandered their gifts making war on each other, and her line
only survived because they were sent to the Isla de las Mujeres
for protection from the Spaniards."

"Wait a minute," John interrupted.  "First invasion?  The
Spaniards?  They didn't invade until..."

"The first alien invasion," Catherine explained with a somewhat
patronizing tone.  "They created our ancestors, needing a race of
overseers to control the masses.  These overseers were part
human, part alien, and they had incredible telepathic power.  But
the aliens made a terrible mistake.  They underestimated the
power of the human will.  The couldn't control their creations,
and the invasion plans fell apart."

"And these overseers," Monica asked with as much objectivity as
she could muster.  "We're their descendants?  John? Me? Lita?"

"I am too," Catherine said.  "Over time our powers were diluted
through interbreeding, and our ability to control others was
diluted too.  That's when we became outcasts and had to go
underground."  John and Monica sat riveted as Catherine continued
the story. "Most of us never knew why we were different from
others, what was in our DNA that made us sense others' feelings
and thoughts. But a few kept the history, and kept it from
becoming known."

"Like Lita's family," Monica added.

"And the adoption agencies and orphanages that track where we are
nowadays," Catherine said, nodding to the computer.  "Now more
than ever, we need to stick together."

"Why now?" John asked with as innocent a mind as he could
project.

Catherine smiled at John's weak attempt to conceal his thoughts. 
"We need to find each other, because the new generation of
overseers is looking for us."

"The supersoldiers," Monica said, leaning back in what John
feared might be a faint.  "They want to kill *us?*"

John took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.  "They see us as
a threat?" he asked.  "Why?  You'd think they'd want to kidnap us
and turn us into supersoldiers like them!"

"They're kidnaping people with different genetic profiles,"
Catherine said somewhat haughtily.  "They want people they can
control.  People who *aren't* descended from the original
experiment."  She paused as John and Monica nodded and thought
about the implications of what she'd said, then she added, "This
time they want to get it right."

"So we're safe?" Monica asked.  "Or are we in danger? I don't
understand."

Catherine gulped and looked into Monica's eyes.  "We're
humanity's only chance.  We *have* to stay safe.  It's our duty,
our opus dei."

"How are we humanity's only chance?" Doggett asked.  "Surely
there are others who..."

"In the government?" Catherine finished with one eyebrow raised. 
"The government has been infiltrated.  The military has been
infiltrated.  The United Nations..."

"Okay I get it," Doggett said.  "Only I can't believe there are
just a few people who will resist.  You said they underestimated
the human will.  What's to say they aren't still underestimating
it?  I've already met a supersoldier who's switched sides."

"He's right," Monica joined in.  "Throughout history there has
been slavery but there have also been slave revolts.  Human
beings won't tolerate it again now that we've known freedom."

"You don't understand!" Catherine shouted.  "They've given up on
mental control.  They're using brute strength this time.  And
you've seen for yourselves how difficult it is to kill them.  The
one you met," she nodded to John.  "She was created in the
mid-eighties.  But the latest ones, the ones made using
replication within the last few years, their will can be
completely subverted, but only when needed.  At all other times
they appear normal and have normal human will."

Monica sighed and looked John, whose intense eyes were fixed on
Catherine as she continued, "Those of us who can spot them need
to be organized.  We need to go on the offensive.  We need to..."
Catherine shut her mouth suddenly then added calmly, "It's up to
the People of the Via to protect the rest.... to protect not just
humanity, but what makes humans human.  It's about more than the
survival of our genes.  This is about the survival of free will."

"Okay, I can't argue with that," Doggett conceded.  "But say
you're right, that only a few people can spot these new
overseers.  What does that have to do with Monica and me?  We
can't spot them.  I get a headache just trying to send her a
picture of an apple for Chrissakes!"  Catherine cringed at his
last remark.  "Sorry, Mother Catherine," he added contritely.

Catherine took a deep breath and let John know that she was
overlooking his verbal slip.  "There aren't enough people like
Lita and Tomas.  The rest of us need to protect them.  And we
need to make sure that the children, the naturally born children,
are safe."

"Like those kids at the orphanage?" Doggett asked.  "Are they all
part of this?"

"Not all," Catherine sighed.  "We've been tracking children with
potential ever since we first caught wind of this new invasion. 
But there's a little complication now."

"We know about that," Reyes said sadly.  "Babies born to
abductees?"

Catherine nodded.  "The latest experiment.  These babies are
hybrids, like our ancestors, but with that supersoldier strength. 
The question is, can they be controlled?"

Monica and John looked at each other, sharing their thoughts. 
After a tense moment, Monica asked, "And what if one of these
babies receives a shot of some sort, to make him normal?  Will he
still be one of them in other ways?"

"And how long does that shot last, anyway?"  John asked.  "And
what was in it?  It can't have affected his DNA?  Or could it? 
Was it some kind of virus?"

"Or an antibody to a virus?" Reyes chimed in.

"And how much of this stuff is out there?"  John added, his arms
waving as he stood to pace.  "Does it work on adults? Can we
un-do all these replications and return people to who they were?"

"And if that's possible, why aren't we looking for the stockpile
of this stuff?" Reyes asked.  "Or manufacturing it?"

"And if it works on hybrids, will it work on purebred aliens?"
John's voice was rising.  "And where did this stuff come from
anyway?  How did this guy get it if he was being beat up by
whoever did that to him?"

Catherine remained impassive as the pair grew more animated, and
as each took a deep breath she answered, "All good questions."

"And the answers?" Doggett pressed.  "Got any?"

"Want any?" Catherine shot back.  "Sure you want that
responsibility?"

"Responsibility?" Reyes asked.  "Responsibility for what?"

"After you know those answers, can you go back to your jobs in
the FBI?  Can you have that normal life you want and let such a
pressing need go unmet?"

Reyes and Doggett sat in silence for a moment until Catherine
said, "I thought so.  Taking care of Gibson, rescuing your friend
Mulder, that's as far as you'll go?"

"We're not giving up," Reyes said resolutely.  "We're in this for
the long haul."  Doggett looked at her with admiration.  Yes, he
thought.  She would not back down even in the face of an
unstoppable foe.  And he would be at her side, sharing her belief
in the rightness of their cause.

Catherine looked at Doggett and nodded, almost forcing him to
speak for himself.  "Yeah, what she said.  We can't stand by and
watch this thing happen. Not without putting up a fight."

"Even if it costs you your lives?" she challenged.

"Even if it costs us our lives," he answered, studying Reyes's
eyes on his, her head nodding in agreement.

"Yes," Reyes added.  "We may go down, but we'll go down
fighting."

Catherine studied their faces while probing their minds. 
Finally, she said, "Yes, I believe you."

"So tell me this," Doggett said with more curiosity than urgency. 
"What is our role in all of this, exactly?"

"You ask too many questions," Catherine snorted.  "Remember, the
less you know the less danger you're in."

"And the less information we give up if we're caught," Reyes
pointed out.  Catherine nodded.  "Can you at least explain one
thing to me?  There are these people, people who appear normal
but who can pose as anybody they want.  How do they fit into
this?"

"The bounty hunters," Catherine nodded and smoothed the fabric
over her legs.  "They are still among us.  And I hope you will be
able to resist them.  From what Martha tells me Gibson will."

"Resist?" Doggett asked.  "But they're not supersoldiers.  They
can be killed."

"You're right.  They're completely different.  When the aliens
gave up after the first invasion some of the overseers went with
them.  While those who stayed on Earth became more and more
human, those who left became more and more like the aliens. 
Their powers became stronger, not weaker, but they are still
similar enough to humans to walk among us."

"If they're similar to us," Reyes asked, knitting her brow.  "How
do they switch identities like they do?"

"They don't," Catherine answered matter-of-factly.  "Remember how
Tomas planted an image in your mind?"  Reyes nodded.  "They
search your mind for the image of someone you trust, then they
plant that image in your mind when you're looking at them.  They
don't physically change shape.  It's an illusion."

"Or a delusion," Doggett said with disgust.

"How do we fight that?" Reyes asked, then before Catherine could
answer she realized for herself that their training was enabling
them to do just that.  "Ohhhh," she said.  "Block them?  Sense
when they're invading..."

"You're both very new at it, but now that you understand what's
at stake I hope you'll develop your potential."  Catherine stood
and looked at each upturned face briefly.  "Another duty you
have, considering the gift you've inherited, is to pass it on." 
She left the room, closing the door quietly as Reyes and Doggett
looked at each other with equally puzzled expressions.

Then and at the same time they realized what she meant.

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

John leaned back in his chair and smirked.  "Well, that answers
one of my questions anyway."

"Which is...?" Reyes arched an eyebrow at him, hoping she'd
guessed his meaning.

"Which is why the Catholic Church doesn't seem to mind us living
in sin together on their property."  He reached for her hands and
clasped them between his.  "They want us to procreate."

"Have a baby?" Monica asked.  "I haven't even given that a
thought."

"You haven't?" John asked skeptically.  "Even after we decided to
get married?"

She shook her head.  "After what you've been through," she said,
pulling her hands free and lightly stroking his chest.  "This is
one decision I'm leaving up to you."

"That's the most important decision to make together," he said
gravely.  "I wouldn't..."

"I mean," Monica rested the palm of her hand against the center
of his chest and stared into his eyes.  "That I want what you
want."  She smiled warmly at him, making his heart skip a beat. 
"And I wouldn't press you to do anything you're not ready for."

"Yeah, I've noticed," he smiled.  "You waited a long time for me
to come around."  He stood and helped her to her feet.  "Have I
ever thanked you for that?"

"In your way, yes," Monica smiled, her eyes glistening with what
John recognized as desire.  "But if you want to thank me
again..."

They walked hand-in-hand to the cottage, and for the first time
didn't worry that their thoughts might be overheard.  Once inside
they threw themselves onto the bed and began tearing at each
other's clothes.  "Wait," Monica said.

John sighed loudly.  "What is it this time?"

Monica reached over him to the bedside table, extracting a small
vial from the drawer.  "We still have some oil."

"We don't have time for oil," John said, with a touch of
desperation.  "Dinner's in..."

Before he could calculate the time they had, she'd warmed some
oil in the palms of her hands and wormed her arms under his shirt
to massage his muscles.  "You've been working so hard," she said
soothingly.  As she massaged his muscles she pushed up on his
shirt, and he helped her remove it.  "All that physical
exertion..." She pulled down on his jeans.  "You must be
exhausted."  She threw his jeans into a corner.  "After all that
driving."  She cupped the bulge in his underwear.  "We should
take this slowly..."  At either side she slipped a finger under
the waistband.  "And enjoy every moment."  She started pulling
downward, letting the nails scrape lightly against the sensitive
skin.

"I'm not sure I can," John protested, his voice acquiring the
gravelly tone she lived for.  "We don't want to miss dinner... 
ahhhh" He gave up all pretense of resistance as she slid her
mouth over his throbbing member.  His hands went to her hair and
combed through her tresses.  "You know how that makes me...
ahhhh"  One of her hands cupped his balls and started gently
kneading as her other hand ran over his chest and stomach. 
"Mon..." he tried to warn her, but it was too late.  After three
days away from the love of his life, slow love-making just wasn't
in the cards.  "I'm sorry," he whispered, stroking her hair as
she lapped up his mistake.  "I just couldn't..."

Without saying a word, Monica scooted to the end of the bed and
stood facing him, licking her lips.  Very slowly, she unbuttoned
her shirt and dropped it on top of his jeans.  Then she turned
away from him and pulled her jeans down, revealing herself to him
inch by excruciating inch.  When she'd reached the bottom her
hair fell over her face, allowing her to sneak a peak a his
reaction.  Despite his apologies, he seemed interested, and she
continued her tease.  She stepped out of her jeans, keeping her
body bent for his inspection, then gradually straightened
herself, her hands sliding seductively up the outsides of her
legs until they reached the upper band of her panties.  As she'd
done to him, she slipped one finger under the elastic on either
side and slowly slid them down until she was again doubled over
with her hands on the floor.  This time she drew her hands up the
insides of her legs, slower than before, until she heard John's
breathing deepening behind her.  She turned to face him, then
finished her tease upward until her hands met the panty lines
she'd just revealed.  Tracing up the line on each side in mirror
images, her hands slid a few inches then angled upward, riding
the contours of her well-toned body until reaching lace-covered
curves.  She popped the hook, then opened her bra as if it were
the double doors to a great cathedral.  John gasped, and his eyes
glazed over as she traced lazy patterns over the rosy centers of
her breasts.  "Mon..." he growled.  "Come here..." He patted the
mattress and slid invitingly to one side.

She obeyed him, but approached slowly, as slowly as her strip
tease had been, and by the time she lay next to him, all John's
apologies seemed unnecessary.