The Palpable Prosecutor

by Lubrican

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Chapter Five

Lacey woke first, and her movement woke Bob instantly.  She had slept like the dead all night long, and this was the first time she'd moved.

He realized this could be very awkward.  He should have left once she was asleep.

"I'm sorry," he said.  "I fell asleep.  I meant to leave, once you got warm."

Lacey said nothing.  At that moment a whole new rush of thoughts was making her mind whirl.  Her recognition of where she was, who was in bed with her, and the fact they were both naked, brought back memories of how that had come to be.  She had just spent her first night in bed with a man.  But, again, her expectations about that had not been fulfilled.  His arms were still around her.  Their chests were pressed together.  She should be alarmed ... horrified ... aghast!  But she wasn't.  It just felt good.

Except for the fact that she had to pee.  That was annoying.

She moved her arm, which had somehow gotten across his waist.  Had she hugged him?  Her hand hit cloth and her attention was drawn there.  Her natural urge to explore that, to determine what it was, made her fingers move on the cloth before she could stop them.

His boxers.  He was wearing his underwear.  He wasn't completely naked.

Again her mind was assailed by doubt.  Men didn't do this.  They didn't act this way.  He hadn't raped her.  She didn't know how she knew that, but she did.  They had not had sex.  How could this be?  Her mother had been so forceful in explaining that men couldn't control their urges, that the beast in them could not be tamed.  That's why it was so important never to get into a situation like she had gotten in last night.

Except that there had been nothing about Bob that was even remotely forceful, beastlike, or untamed.  The wall she'd built to keep men out cracked ... leaned, its foundations undermined.

"I'm really sorry," he said, intruding on her thoughts.  "I'll pack my stuff and leave."

"No." she said.  Just one word.  It was all she could manage at the moment.

"I'll get up," he said, relieved that she wasn't screaming at him.  He could just imagine one of the marshals rushing through the door, gun drawn, to find Bob in bed with the protectee. That wouldn't go well at all, whether he was fired or not.  "My clothes are just over there.  You need to stay in bed and rest.  I think you were suffering from hypothermia when I found you. I had to do something to warm you back up.  But you're fine now.  Just stay there.  I'll go fix you something for breakfast.  Do you want me to have one of the marshals do that?"

He was babbling, in his relief, and when he realized that he stopped talking completely.  He slid out of bed and got back into his clothes as quickly as he could.  He had morning wood, but was able to hide that from her by turning his back while he put his clothes on.  When he was clothed again, he turned, to find her eyes peering at him.  The covers were pulled up to her nose.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Okay."  He started to move.

"You," she said.

He stopped.

"Me?"

"You bring my breakfast."

"Okay.  Got it.  Thank you for being so understanding about this."

He left, closing the door firmly behind him.  She turned her head to look at it.  She needed to pee badly.  If he hadn't moved it, her nightgown was still in the bathroom, and both her robes were in the closet.  He was busy preparing breakfast.

She slid out from under the covers and tried to dart to the bathroom.  She staggered on the way, veering off course, but then corrected as her muscles responded.  She hadn't felt that weak while she was lying there.  She gave a long sigh of relief as she sat on the commode and let her bladder loose.  The cool air around her reminded her of how cold she'd felt the night before.  And that made her think about how warm he'd felt against her.  Her nightgown was hanging on a hook where she'd left it.

She'd seen those boxers when he got up.  He could have removed them and slept with her naked.  He could have done anything he wanted to, for that matter.  She'd been completely helpless.  But he hadn't done anything other than warm her up.  It was shocking. It turned everything she knew about men on its head.

She looked at the nightgown.  She could put it on and get back in bed. Something, though, something she didn't understand, made her want to leave it right where it was and go back to bed naked.  Without thinking on it further, she got up and hurried back to bed.  She felt a little stronger now, and slid under the covers, grateful to feel the residual warmth her body had left.

Their bodies had left.

She felt like she was in a dream.  Or some new world she'd been transported to through some science fiction machine.  She had no idea what to do.  He would be coming back with her breakfast soon. What could she say to him?  She had no idea how to talk to a man she'd slept with.  The very concept of talking to a man she'd slept with was insane.

But she had slept with a man.  That much was simple fact, as amazing as it might be.  She didn't have to imagine that.  She could remember some of the details of that experience.  She remembered his hands ... moving ... all over her.

With sudden stark realization she remembered pulling her hand from around him.  Her hand must have been on his back, too.  Where those scars were ... the scars she had imagined touching.  She had touched them last night.  She must have.  But she couldn't remember that part.  She'd had the chance to feel those terrible scars, but couldn't remember doing so.  She felt a sense of loss.

There was a tap at the door.  He didn't just come in this time.  She realized he was waiting for permission, so she called out for him to come in.

He had a plate in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other.  Suddenly she was ravenous.  She sat up without thinking and the covers fell, baring her breasts.  Feeling panic she lay back down and pulled the covers up to recover her modesty.  Then she felt the world twist in her mind again as she realized he'd seen them the night before.  He'd rubbed them dry with a towel.  And then he'd pressed his chest against them.

"It's okay," he said, as if he could hear her thoughts in his head.  "I'll just put this down and leave.  Where's your robe?  I'll get it for you."

Thinking more clearly, now, she knew what to say.  That didn't mean it was any easier to speak to him, though.

"Closet."

He went there, set the plate and glass down on top of the dresser, nearby, and opened the bi-fold closet doors.  He pulled out the blue robe and looked over his shoulder.

"Do you want anything else?"

"No.  I'll get dressed later."

He brought her the robe and laid it on the covers beside her hip.

"I'll go outside while you get your robe on, and then, once you're back in bed I'll come back in and bring you your food," he suggested.

"Wait," she said.  She wondered why she'd said it.  She had no idea why she wanted him to wait.  It just felt right to say it.

He did, standing patiently.

The thought that flowed into her mind was like honey, pure and golden, moving slowly.  She wondered where on Earth it had come from.

"Help me with my robe," she said, softly.

This was crazy!  She was going to get out of bed ... naked ... and let this man put her robe on for her!  She didn't need any help.  But she could already imagine it, feeling the sleeves of the robe sliding up her arms and over her shoulders.  The front would close, cutting off his view of her nudity. 

But before that he would see.

Why did she want him to see?  She had never wanted a man to see her like that before.  If anything she had gone to extraordinary lengths to ensure her modesty at all times.  Especially her breasts.

But he'd already seen them.  And everything else as well.  He had touched her everywhere.  Lightning had not struck.  Brimstone hadn't fallen from the sky to bury her in burning coals.  Her skin had not erupted in boils.  Leprosy had not covered her body.

Nothing had happened at all.  Except that he gave her his warmth, and made her feel safe.

"Are you sure?" he asked, sounding puzzled.

"I'm sure," she said.

"Okay," he replied, accepting the situation.

She wondered what he was thinking as she slid back out of bed.  She felt like that bolt of lightning might arrive any second as she watched his eyes rake over her body.  With complete astonishment, she saw what her mother was talking about in his eyes, that wild, animal, hungry ... lustful look.  But he didn't do anything, except to reach for the robe.  He let it fall, lengthwise and held it out for her.  Somehow she was able to turn her back to him.

Then, just as she had imagined it, she felt the slick cloth travel up her arms and over her shoulders to cover her breasts.  He moved his hands clear around her, to fold the robe, covering her securely.  It wasn't a hug, but it felt something like it.  Her hands went to find the belt and bring it up to cinch the robe closed.

"Thank you," she said.

"Oh, you're more than welcome.  Believe me."

The innuendo in his voice was clear, even to an inexperienced woman like Lacey.  But it wasn't scary.  It didn't generate the kind of fear that things associated with men had in the past.

"I'm starving," she said.

He went to get her food off the dresser.  She sat on the edge of the bed.

"You can eat sitting up, but as soon as I leave, you have to go back to bed," he said.

"All right," she said.

He stood, holding the orange juice while she forked eggs into her mouth.  She picked up a piece of bacon and bit it with repeated tiny bites until the whole piece was in her mouth. She chewed industriously. Putting the fork on her plate, she reached for the orange juice, taking a sip and then handing it back to him as if he were a servant.

Within a minute her plate was clean and she'd polished off the orange juice.  She handed the plate and glass back to Bob.

"Thank you," she said. "It was delicious."

"Back to bed with you," he said.

"Don't be so bossy," she groused.

"After last night, you need your rest," he said. 

"About last night," she said, looking up at him.

"It was the only thing I could think of to warm you up. We can talk about that when you're fully rested.  Right now -"

"I know, I know, I need to get back into bed."

She stood up.  Something inside her had to do it again.  She didn't understand why she had this urge, but she did.

"Help me with my robe, please," she said.  "I don't want to sleep in it."

That look came into his eyes again, but only in a quick flash, and then it was gone.  Why did that thrill her so much?

She turned her back to him and untied the robe.  The act was similar to, but the reverse of, before, as the soft cloth slid off her shoulders and down her arms.  The panic was back, but it was manageable and she was able to turn to face him, her arms at her sides.

"Thank you," she said, trying to just sound polite.

"You're welcome," he said, drinking her in through those hot eyes.

Then she had to dive under the covers, to seek their safety, as a child sometimes hides from monsters under the covers.  She didn't conceal her head, though.

"I tried to find a blanket last night," he said.

"They're downstairs in my storage locker," she said.

"I couldn't find the key last night."

"It should be in the top right drawer, under my ... panties."  The last word was delivered faintly.

Without embarrassment he went to look and found the key where she said it would be. It was small and in a corner. He'd missed it in his haste the night before.

"There's a green plastic tote," she said.  "The blankets are in it."

He left the room, and she finally had time to think.  She knew her mother had exaggerated things.  But she hadn't thought it had been just plain propaganda.  Now, she wondered.  Bob seemed like a normal man in every way she could think of.  Perhaps his skill set and experience set him apart from other men, in one sense, but in his every day comportment he seemed like an average guy.  What confused her was that she was well aware that men did, in fact, operate on a level of lust from time to time. She'd seen it in college.  She went to the movies too.  She'd even been to a few Broadway plays in which the male libido had been discussed.

That is where Bob seemed to differ from the norm.  That said, she was beginning to think she didn't know much about the norm.  And that included her own norm as well as that of the outside world.  She had flaunted her naked body ... twice!  It had been an impulse she could have controlled, but didn't want to.  She didn't understand that.  And all he had done was enjoy looking at her.  That was crystal clear.  She had seen admiration in his eyes. She'd seen the lust too, but somehow that was just a small part of the admiration.  It was like looking at a fresh-baked loaf of bread.  The eyes were involved, and the nose was involved, and the taste buds anticipating a bite were involved.  None of them were in complete control of the senses.

His desire, a desire that was nothing like what her mother had described, was as plain as day.  And what made that so amazingly important was that she had been helpless, and he had not acted on those impulses to take advantage of her.

Instead, he had cared for her, shared his warmth with her.  Made her feel safe.

There was a tap at the door, which opened immediately, as was his habit.  He had the tote in his hands.  He set it on the end of the bed and unclipped the top.  She knew he was looking at plastic bags with a nozzle on them that she could attach her vacuum hose to.  She'd seen them marketed on TV and ordered a set.  She was very happy with them so far.

"The red one," she said.  Her hands were holding the top of her covers, making her look like Kilroy again, except that her chin was also exposed.

He figured out the closure and she heard a slight hiss of indrawn air as he broke the seal.  He pulled the red blanket out, snapped it open and then snapped it again to let air pressure spread it over her.

"I'll put the box over here, for now," he said, moving the tote.  "One other thing and then I'll let you sleep.  You missed a couple of doses of medicine last night.  I want you to take one now."

"Okay," she said.

"I'll go get it."

While he was gone, her mind kept processing things.  She didn't know it then, but major changes were going on inside Lacey Cragg, changes that would alter her lifestyle to the point that people who knew her in the past, even the recent past, might not even recognize her the next time they saw her.

The first manifestation of those changes was evidenced when he returned with her pill, and a glass of water.

She sat up in bed, letting the covers fall to expose her breasts again.

Then, with just a slight tremor in her hand, she took her medicine.

He didn't check on her until noon. She was still asleep, so he left her alone.  He debated with himself about informing the USMS men about what had happened, but decided it was an internal matter.   The threat hadn't come from outside.  He had done his job and dealt with the issue.  Lacey hadn't fired him. He didn't want the marshals making any waves.

It turned out that Dick Hooker liked to cook.  He offered to make soup for lunch.  He'd brought the ingredients with him when he came to work.

"You watch the door and I'll make us something good to eat," he'd said.

So Bob sat with the radio in his hand and leafed through an American Rifleman that one of the deputies had brought in.

The scent of the chowder made his mouth water.  He was spooning the rich, steaming soup into his mouth when Lacey came out of the bedroom.  She was wearing the blue robe again.  Her hair was tousled and the first thing Bob thought of was that she looked happy, like a woman whose man has treated her well in bed.

"What smells so good?" she asked.

"Dick made clam chowder," said Bob.  "Want some?"

"I'd kill for a bowl," she said.

She walked to Bob and, to his astonishment, took his bowl and spoon and started eating with gusto. 

"Gee.  Hungry?" he teased.

"Is there more?" she asked, scraping the bottom of the bowl and scooping that into her mouth.

"Yes, there's more," he laughed.

He got himself another bowl and spoon while she dipped more chowder into his former bowl.

"It's a good thing I don't have herpes or anything like that," he teased.

"What?"

"You're eating with my spoon," he said.

"Oh. Sorry.  I was just famished.  Here."

She shoved his spoon at him and when he took it, looking amused, she took the clean one he'd gotten.

"I don't have herpes either," she said, with a straight face.

This was a new Lacey.  He'd been sure she'd be embarrassed about the previous night.  But her actions that morning had quashed that worry.  Still, he didn't understand how she could be so blatant about showing herself to him.  It just wasn't the Lacey Cragg he knew, and had been hired by.

But a man with his experience is used to adapting, improvising, and overcoming obstacles.   Not that she had been an obstacle.  But change, even startling change, was something Bob could deal with pretty easily.

So he simply adapted to this new Lacey.  Perhaps they'd talk about it sometime.  Perhaps they wouldn't.  But he wasn't going to worry about it any longer. She obviously wasn't offended by what he'd done, and that was the important part of things.

She paused between bites.

"Thank you," she said.

"Dick made it," he replied.

"I don't mean the soup. I mean last night."

"Oh," he said.  She could still startle him.  "You're welcome."

"You keep saving my life," she said.  "What is that ... four times?" 

"Who's counting?"  He smiled. "I'm not sure that poor little bat counts, though."

"He could have had rabies," she said, between bites.

"Okay. We'll count him too.  But you hired me to save your life, remember?"

"Yes, I did," she said.

Then she went back to eating.

Lacey went back to bed after she ate.  He hadn't awakened her for her noon dose of medication and then had forgotten it while she ate, so Bob took it to her bedroom and tapped on the door.

"Come in," she called.

When he went in, the only thing visible was her head.  When she saw it was him, she seemed to relax.

"You missed another pill," he said.

"Oh."

When he walked around the end of the bed, he intended to just set the pill and water glass on her night stand, but she sat up again, and the blankets fell to her lap.

She was still naked. 

She reached for the glass and held out her hand, open palm up, to receive the pill.

"This is new," he said, taking in her breasts.

"I'm very aware of that," she said.

"Want to explain it?"

"I'm not sure I can."

"Not that I'm complaining," he said, smiling. "You're quite beautiful when you want to be."

"I'm not trying to be beautiful," she said, swallowing the pill.  She took a sip of water and reached to put the glass on her night stand.

"What are you trying to be?"

"I wish I knew," she said.  "I'm a little confused right now."

"I'm willing to listen," he offered.

"Because you can see my breasts?"

"Cover them up.  I'll still stay and listen."

"That's what I don't get," she said, lying back down.  She did, in fact, pull the covers up to her chin.  "I was raised to believe that men can't control their base instincts ... their lust.  But you obviously did."

He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You needed to get warm," he said.  "I knew that was all you needed."

"You could have done anything to me you wanted to," she said.

"And if I had, how would you feel right now?"

"I'd hate you."

"I don't want you to hate me," he said.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"That's a complicated question," he responded.  "To answer that might take a while."

"I have plenty of time," she said.

"You might not like what you hear," he warned.

"Bob, my whole world has been turned upside down since I met you.  People are trying to kill me.  I almost killed myself.  You've saved my life, not once, but three times!  Last night was ... I can't even describe what last night was like.  I have this sinking feeling that my parents lied to me ... brainwashed me.  I'm not sure anything you could say would be that upsetting."

Bob thought about it.  He recognized that her attitude and behavior had undergone a radical shift since he'd met her.  Obviously last night was responsible for the most radical part of her change, but he'd seen other things altering too.  She was less uptight, more outgoing, more friendly.  Not a lot, at least up until this morning, but enough to catch his interest.

"When I first met you, you were all business and no play," he said.  "I watched you work, and you poured all your energy into that.  That guy Summers?  He acted like an asshole, but you let it roll off of you like water off a duck.  And people did try to kill you.  Your average person would fall apart if that happened.  But you just took a breath and kept driving on.

"Now, I'm a man, and you're a woman, and during all this I couldn't help but think about the part of you that is female, too.  Mostly you've been a bang-up prosecutor and professional attorney.  But there were little hints that you were feminine too.  You tried to hide them.  Those breasts you've been flashing at me today were part of that.  How do you get them so flat when you go to work?"

"I bind them," she said.  "My mother taught me to do that.  To deflect the attention of men.  She taught me that men are animals ... dangerous."

"Some are," admitted Bob.  "Doesn't that hurt when you do that?"

"I'm used to it," she said.

"The first time I saw you in your nightgown, when the bat was in here?  That was the first time I saw you with your hair down, too.  There was potential there."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I saw you could cultivate your feminine side and be beautiful, instead of hard and dangerous."

"I'm not dangerous," she scoffed.

"Why do you think people are trying to kill you?" he asked.

She was silent for a few seconds.

"I didn't think of it like that," she finally said.

"There are people who are terrified you're going to put this Boruskiev person in prison for the rest of his life.  He's one of them, but there are others, too."

"That's just my job," said Lacey.

"I had a job too, and people were afraid of me too.  They tried to kill me constantly," he said.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"I'm glad.  I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"Is that why you got me those robes?  And the hair clips?  To help me look more feminine?"

"Yes.  I also got you some nail polish."

"Really? Where is it?"

"It's in my room.  I was waiting until I thought you might feel comfortable with me intruding in your personal life a little more."

"I think you've intruded into my personal life about as much as possible," she said.

"Not at all," he replied, softly.

"What do you mean?"

"This is the part you might not like," he warned.

"Go on."

"Last night?  When I warmed you up?"

She nodded.

"I wanted to do a lot more than that."

"Why didn't you?"

"I already told you. You'd have been furious with me.  It would have amounted to rape.  I'm not a rapist.  And besides, you were on your last legs. I probably should have called an ambulance and had you taken to the hospital.  I'm not a doctor, and hypothermia can be a killer.  But I couldn't resist feeling your skin against me.  I was weak.  Yes, I wanted to warm you up.  Yes, I wanted you healthy again.  But after I saw you in that bathtub, I did get a little animal.  I'm sorry for that part."

"If that was animal ..."  She stopped.

"I think you're a beautiful, intelligent, strong woman," he said.  "I didn't intend to develop any feelings for you when I took this job.  I didn't think I could develop feelings for you.  But that seems to have happened."

"You want to go to bed with me," she whispered.  "For sex," she added.

"You don't have to worry about that," he said. "Despite what your mother told you, some men can control their desires."

"But you want to," she said.

He knew she wasn't talking about wanting to control his desires.  He'd never answered her first question.

"Yes," he said, softly.  "I admit I do."

She seemed completely unfazed by his admission.

"You want to know something funny?" she said.

"Sure."

"You're the first man who ever said that to me."

"You're joking."

"No, I'm not.  Before today, no man has ever said to me, that he wanted to take me to bed and have sex with me."

"Wow," said Bob.  "I'm kind of shocked by that.  I mean I saw through that tough shell you wear in public.  I'm sure other men have seen through it, too."

"You had the advantage of living with me," she said.  "No other man has ever done that, either."

"How about your breasts?  Anybody seen them?"

"You must be joking!" she barked.

"Really?  You have no idea how honored that makes me feel."

"That is the root of my current problems," she said.  "When you look at me the way you do, and say things like that, it makes me feel things I've never felt before. I don't know what to do about that.  You're turning my world upside down, Bob Shepard."

"Well, since you haven't fired me for intruding on your bath last night, I guess that means we have some time to work all that out."

"Why did you intrude on my bath?"

"Well, it wasn't to see you naked," he said.  "That was just a wonderful side effect.  You forgot to take your meds and I was bringing you a pill.  When you didn't answer and I saw the bed hadn't been slept in, I was pretty sure you were still in the bath you'd talked about taking.  When you didn't answer that knock either I got worried and went on in."

"I'm glad you did," she said.

"Even if I got to see those breasts you've made a practice of hiding from the world?"

"I believe you understand that I have decided it's alright to let you see them," she said.

"I do," he said, grinning.

"Now, if only I understood that," she sighed.

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