Fishin and Kissen
Fishen and Kissen
Jamileh and Johny
Thistlewood Creek, Ute Sector
Johny has, assuming she called, given Jamileh directions to his favorite fishing hole. He's currently seated on the cut-out bench near the River swing, a pole in the water, a beer in his hand and a straw hat on his head.

His silver BMW appears mid-day, and from it emerges his young protegee, clad in what looks like a man's shirt, draped long enough to cover most of her khaki shorts. The sleeves are rolled up, and her smile is enough to illuminate the entire canyon. "Oi, Johny, g'day then."

Johny turns over to look her up and down, a grin on his features, split around the stalk of wheat between his lips. "Whats up, Hon?" He asks, gesturing then to the bench beside him. "You look happy."

That look only makes her smile more. She flops beside him on the ground and gestures around them. "I bloody love it here."

Johny grunts as he hands the woman a beer. "It's nice country. It's why I bought it." He says with a grin.
Jamileh opens the beer but blinks as she repeats, "You bought it?"

Johny nods. "Ayep. I own the whole valley." He eyes the tip of the pole as it dips a bit, but then lets it go as the line goes slack. "Yeah. Good fishing. I built the house about a half mile up the river… I gave it to Maya though."

"Does…does she live there?" She looks upstream, frowning now, almost petulant.

"She." A pause. "Is 6 months old. And she does."

Jamileh murmurs, "Your daughter, right?"

Johny shakes his head. "No. Thats Viviana. She lives in Scicily with her mother. Maya is Aladriel and KAssandra's daughter. Thistlewood was made for a childs laughter. It didn't feel right so empty."

Jamileh, coloring, says, "I'm sorry, I forgot. Um…they have a daughter? I didn't know that." She pulls a sheaf of grass from the ground beside her, toying with it to give her hands something to do.

"If they don't have a daughter, I don't know where Maya came from, but she could be an evil space slug in a costume. I mean, she's bent those two women utterly to her will. They clean, cook and live their lives based around her. That sort of mental domination comes not easy."

Nodding, the young woman admits after some hesitation, "I don't know where that comes from. I don't have a bloody maternal bone in my body."

Johny shrugs. "It comes when you have one. It's just the way it works. Whats on your mind, Jam?" He asks, looking over to the woman, reaching for his beer.

"Someone I met last night offered me work." She raises up off one cheek to remove a business card from the left pocket of her shorts. "Here, ever heard of 'im?"

Johny sits forward, taking the card, eyeing it curiously.

"While I was chatting him up, some big bloody bloke named … strewth, I didn't ge this name. Big bloke, like Linc big. Anyways, he came in and offered us work, but I don't take work without knowing who and what."

Johny raises an eyebrow. "The old Toymaker. He's good. Used to be a fantastic sniper. Did a lot of wetwork. Now he's… mellowed. GOt this weird white-hat thing going on. Damndest thing I ever saw, a sniper who doesn't like to kill." he shrugs then. "Finest gun and armorsmith in north America." A pause at the bigger man being commented on. "Get a name on that one?":

Jamileh shakes her head. "I think I heard Dwayne, but I can't remember. Pops…I was going to ask him to teach me small arms. I says I remind him of an old friend of his, bloke named Geist."

Johny raises an eyebrow. "Who's Geist?"

"Another B&E bloke, someone else good at getting into places without being seen," answers Jamileh with a shrug. "Named himself 'ghost' in German."

Johny nods, sipping the beer again. "That I did."

That sound you hear? It's Jamileh's jaw hitting the floor.

Johny grins then, self-amused. "When you are in the night, the ghost is your fear. When you are the night, you are the ghost." (German)

Jamileh blink blink blink.

Johny ooohs as the pole dips again. He snatches forward, blinding speed, to grab the pole and yank it back, setting the hook.

Jamileh is still stunned. "That…that was you?"

Johny glances at Jamileh.. "Who, what? It all depends." He says, grunting as he fights with a river-trout. "What did you hear?"

"Just that you were…that you could do what I do, only probably better," she explains lamely.

Johny nods as he brings the fish closer to shore.. "Yeah. I'm decent. I do a lot of shit these days. Not just B and E. More social engineering."

The smile earlier shown diminishes a bit while she watches the fish being hauled in. "I must look like a complete tosser to you."

"Nope." He says, bringing it in closer to the shore now. The powerful fish ripples the water with a torque of its body, sending a splash out. "Look. You're young. You're green. That's only going to change in time. But you're not stupid. You're not incapable. You can learn. You want to know the truth?" He says, looking over to her, letting some more slack in to the line. "THe truth is I'm a decker, a surgeon, a driver, an assasian, a B&E man and host of smaller things. I can hit the ass of a gant at 50 meters with a pistol, I can decimate a room with a knife in the blink of an eye. I can crack any lock and I can deck any system. But." A pause.

"I am only one man. ONE man. And I? I am a tosser. Because I lost sight of team work for a long while, working on my own. I need -people-. I need -You-. SO swallow the self-doubt and be who you are."

Jamileh listens to this remark, focusing her gaze on the fish's struggle against its captor rather than watching Johny. Then she stands up, but not to leave; shirking her shirt, then her khakis to show the bikini below, she states, "I'm not worried about who I am, love, just don't want to look foolish. I'll learn. Always have. I'm bloody smart. That tire swing still sound?"

Johny watches her strip down as he brings the fish to the shore now, one hand reaching down to pull up the foot and a half long rainbow trout… "Yeah, let me get my hook out of the water here…" He says, eyes still on the dark complected woman. "You really are… so very beautiful, Jamileh." He offers quietly, one hand holding a squriming fish. MAke of that metaphor what you will.

Her expression softens, and a corner of her mouth twitches upward. "Thanks," she acknowledges softly. "Nice to know I can compete with a fish for your attention." Then there comes a wink, and she makes a lovely, athletic dive into the water.

And surfaces with a bellow. "Bloody blooming HELL!"


Jamileh shakes herself and dives back under, then emerges again with a stream of profanities that would make proud a good Anglo-Saxon. She swims toward the shore, muttering more oaths.

Johny offers a hand down to the woman, just laughing his ass off. It's the sort of laugh that comes from watching a kid drop a peanut butter covered bit of bread, then pick it up, have the bright idea to wash it off and then wonder why their bread is wet. NO, that's not personal experience. I was always FAR TO smart for such a thing. Okay, not really. He's not laughing at her, so much at the situation, there's no scorn or derision in his tone. "Oh honey, thats why I have a pool."

Jamileh pushes up enough to reach Johny's hand to take it, and then, in stark retribution for him laughing his ass off, she gives that hand a good yank. He should be bent forward, so his weight will help.

Johny was bent forward, indeed, but was surprisingly solid. However, physics works in her favor; when he does not bend or break, the ground beneath him does. He had expected the attack, and was prepared… but the river bank beneat his feet was not. His eyes show surprise as he suddenly has no leverage, and finds himself cartwheeling in to the water.

Uh huh. Who's laughing now, bucko? Jamileh turns as the water from his landing washes over her, eliciting another squeal that turns into outright chortling. No, giggling. "Bloody serves you right, mate!"

He hits the water with a splash and goes underneath the surface. He comes up sputtering, tossing his head to send droplets everywhere. "Goddamn son of a bitch whore ballshrinking cold!" He calls out as the current carries him a bit down river. HE then strokes against, pulling up along side her, giving her a sidelong, mock-hateful glance. "Wench."

Jamileh's grin says that oh, it was all worth it. She pushes on the bank to pull herself out, noting, "You deserved that."

"For what?" He asks, splashing her as he makes his way up on to land, shaking the water off. "For laughing when you leapt before you looked?"

Jamileh, shivering violently, reaches for the shirt recently abandoned and replies tartly, "For laughing when you could have bloody warned me, knowing what I was going to do."

Johny shrugs as he snatches her wrist, snake like. He pulls her close, letting his body come to hers, as another hand comes up to grab the hair at the back of her head, pulling down just slightly. "THere are better ways to get warm."

Which stops her cold, so to speak, and elicits a slight tremble that has nothing to do with the cold. Drawing closer to him, her body pressing against his and one arm winding about his neck, she fuses her mouth to his in a decidedly hungry manner.

Theres a tree near by. It finds itself confused by the meatpeople that play at the shoreline. Moreso still when it's bulk is used as a brace by the larger of the meatpeople to pin the smaller of the meatpeople. It's so inelegant, so vulgar, the actions of the meatpeople. Really, touching to reproduce? How barbaric.

Alas, poor greenery, so ill used in a mindless moment of these bipedal creatures. The smaller of the pair does make a soft sound of protest on impact against the trunk, but then other sounds are smothered in the embrace. Dominance game, perhaps? Another barbarism.

For shame.

Johny's hands are moving, sliding over her body. Not gliding, as that implies a certain level of gentility. No, this isn't gentle, this is more heated, this is more animalistic. He's pressed against her, obvious in all his various forms, his lips to hers for a long, passionate moment. Heat rises, among other things.

Ah heat, blessed heat, so welcome at this moment as blood flow sharpens with the increase in appetite. Could be, too, that the chill is merely being forgotten in the ardor of the embrace. A gasp comes from her the instant their lips separate, and one leg lifts to wind about his thighs. For stability and shared warmth, right?

Right. Absolutely. It's all about stability. And shared warmth. There's a shifting and then he pulls back, at least, in the face… Watching her, intently. No words, no clear communication, just, watching her eyes.

Her eyes are dialated, pupils large within the pale brown of her irises today, and her chest rises and falls in a steady, if accelerated, pace. The tip of her tongue moves out to moisten her lips, and her hands catch in the fabric on his soaked shirt before spreading against his pectorals. Waiting.

"You have…" A pause as his voice stetches in to the pause.. "No idea how badly I want you, Jamileh.." He shifts slightly, his desire apparent. "But not like this… not… impulsively."

Jamileh's left hand slides off his chest to cup his cheek, and while her lower lip quivers, her voice is quiet and strong. "You're worth any wait to me," she assures him, "but for my part…I can't think of a better place to make love with you than right here."

He nods slowly, leaning in to kiss her again, this time slower, but no less passionately. "I have been. Making love…" He says, moving his lips to hear ear.. "And sex… are very different things."

Jamileh shivers, the hand that had been on his cheek now on the back of his head. "I don't know that I figured that out until I met you. I'm…Johny, I'm so bloody mad for you." And her voice has, briefly, a twinge of helplessness to it. "If you want to wait, I can wait."

His hands find the small of her back, bringing her closer to him, grinding their bodies together. "Horses. Cathedrals. Castles. Or.." a pause as he traces the line of her spine with his fingertips. "Perhaps…" he kisses her again, this time coming in along the line of her jaw. "Or Opulence. Choose one."

A slender mew of appreciation comes out in response to those busses along her jawline, and as she tilts her head back she whispers, "Horses. I have no use for the rest."

Johny grunts quietly, but not an inarticulate sort of grunt. "Then East Prior Mountain it is." He says quietly.

Jamileh's eyes open to regard him again, expression lost. "I don't understand."

Johny chuckles quietly.. "I own another ranch out in the Sioux Nation, on the Wild Horse Range…" A pause. "30 acres of horse ranch. On the side of East Prior Mountain. The snow should be clear now… my stables cleaned out… the mustangs in rutting season."

"The Sioux don't mind?" she queries, her right hand, previously on his hip, sliding lower on his back to cup one of his buttocks.

"I am the Sioux." He says with a grin, affectating a montana rancher accent, a sort of cowboy-esque thing… "Never underestimate the powah of a good false identity and genetic libraries…"

Jamileh ohs, smirking despite herself, then chuckling. "Being with you is like being with any number of men at once. I feel like I am bloody cheating on you WITH you, love."

Smirking now… He winks. "That, could be arranged, but I don't know how I'd feel about such a thing." He says, bringing his hands down to the apex of her hips, gripping the flesh and bone there.

A small gasp that mixes pain and pleasure comes forth, and she leans forward to kiss a space between buttons on his shirt. "I think the idea of being with anyone else is basically rubbed out of existence in my mind," she mumbles against him.

Johny smiles… "Thats good. Because I can be anyone else… and still rub… you… out." A grin as he lifts her up, laying her over his shoulder like a child. "Come on now! Time to get dry, to match the warm!"

Jamileh squeals and does the requisite beating on his back. "Where are we going?"

"Planet Ten!"


Johny pauses, looking over to the womans face near his own. "Long story. It starts in the mid 1980s. It's hard to explain." He says, then tromping up to the road where his truck is parked.

Jamileh bounces along as comfortably as she can, riding his shoulder thus, and replies, "Bloody hell, Johan Wulfson, you're hard to understand sometimes. AND you're tossing away a free tumble with ME."

"Not tossing it away." He says with a grin, setting her then, with a twist of his body, on the front fender of the Ford. "Saving it. Savoring it. Making sure that what we have isn't going to be… just sex. If I just want a tumble, theres a hundred women in Denver I could tumble with, right here, right now." A pause as he moves to touch her cheek. "But I ain't in it for a tumble."

"Neither am I, but strewth, Johan, I don't know what more to say to prove to you I'm not just interested in a quick…" She pauses, then mumbles something against the side of his head.

"You have." He says, moving to climb the side of the truck now, pressing her back with his chest, on to the warm sun-baked hood of the vehicle… "I just want to… give you something worth remembering…"

Jamileh grunts at the contact of very warm metal against cold, wet and bare back, then hooks both arms around his neck. "You already have. You don't bloody see that, do you? No matter what else happens, I can't and won't forget you."

He leans in, body poised in the air above her, legs between her thighs, lips hovering over hers. "I know. But I can always do better…"

Jamileh's swallow is rough, and her complexion has attained again that flushed, aroused color that he seems so adept at inspiring in her. "Kiss me," she murmurs after a few gulps of air, and for her? It's a demand.

Funny thing about ladies of a darker color; it's almost impossible to see them blush. "So demanding…" He leans in then, doing as demanded, as required, atop the truck in the warm sun, kissing her with a fury.

Almost impossible, but her complexion is not as dark as all that. Still, the reflexion of heat is more telling than the subtle change in hue, as is the quickening of her breath and the fact that all four limbs wind about him. Her own embrace is less fury and frenzy than appetite, and its intensity ebbs and flows like the tide.

He slides down her body, kissing at her neck, then across her decolletage, over the line of her swimsuit. Each kiss is individually placed, a sort of worshipful attention to detail, making sure each one is complete without rushing, hands sliding down her abdomen. Good thing this is a private road.

He did say he owned the place. Another tremble courses through her, again completely separate of whatever moisture lingers from her quick dip in the freezing river. "What," she mumbles between gulps of air, "happened to that fish you caught?"

"I tossed it back." He says, his lips and tongue sliding over the taut skin near the navel, eyes flickering back up to hers for a moment. "Decidedly odd question to ask…"

"My brain's fried like a dead jillaroo's arse in the Outback heat," she answers with a tight sort of laugh. "For God's sake, don't stop what you were doing, love."

Johny chuckles quietly, the rumble in his chest transferring as vibration to what's beneath. "I never planned it.." He says, his lips trailing lower still on her form, along the line where thigh meets abdomen, the tight muscle there, over the line of the swimsuit.

Sighs, very low ones, accompany his moment as she notes, "After all these years you've done without, I hope -I- give -you- something memorable too."

"It has been. It will be." He lets his hands slide up the insides of her thighs, spreading out at the flair of her hips to, not avoid… but encircle those more cloth-protected areas of flesh. He places a single kiss to the cloth, above the mons, still in perfectly PG-13 areas, before he pulls back, his hands drawing along her body as he does so. "I'm enjoying the trip."

She draws in a quick breath, between her teeth, and arches her spine ever so slightly as she answers, "A few weeks ago, I wouldn't have thought the wait was worth it. But it is. You are. Like three bloody weeks of foreplay."

He looks down at her, offering a hand to her as he balances on the front bumper of the big truck. "Come on. I'm hungry. And yes. Foreplay starts with a look. It ends when we die."
Jamileh barely pauses before putting a hand in his to let him take her where he will. Ultimate trust.

Johny pulls her close to him then, one foot sliding off the bumper to hang in the air, shifting gravity and balance to accomidate for holding the woman. "You're a dangerous woman, Jamileh. The sort of woman a man can fall in to and never find his way out of."

"I'm a dangerous woman?" she echoes with bemusement. "You're a bundle of fascination wrapped in a very, very alluring package, Johan. I don't know that I'd wait for anyone else like I have for you. I'm not usually that patient, you know?"

"I know." He says with a grin that says in its own smugness, he knows exactly, and more. "Now, I just have to live up to the hype. It's a lot of pressure on a man."

Jamileh snorts. "Are you fooling me, love? You have me so bloody wound up that just a touch in the right place will send me into spasms."

He takes a moment to ensure her balence is correct before he steps off the truck bumper, taking the ground with ease. "That, is so far, the point. To create a world in which you are hyper stimulated and desiring everything I can offer… and vise versa… Do not think for a moment, my dear… that it is a one way street."

Her features are illuminated to a brilliant degree thanks to the smile his compliment elicits, and her hand reaches for his cheek as she whispers, "Sexiest thing anyone's ever said to me, love, to think you're as wound up as I am, so much it gets bloody hard to sleep at night."

Johny chuckles then, a deep, bawdy sort of laugh. "My dear, it is precisely too hard to sleep at night at times…"

One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand… "HA!" She laughs and laughs and, rather in the same spirit as his chuckle, she touches the place to which he just alluded.

She finds the shape of masculinity in its attentive form. He tilts his head, an eyebrow raising. "I am fully functional." He murmurs, shifting slightly, but not away. "Did you just want to check under the hood?"

Her smile returns, her fingers remain where they are, resting lightly against him. "The whole bloody chassis, Johan. Top to bottom."

He grins then, sliding away from her touch, even as his body posture indicates he does not wish to… "Well, I assure you, I've had my 90 thousand mile overhawl."

"You sure there's no part that could use, oh, I dunno…" She grints right back. "A lube job?"

He just gawks for a moment, something caught in his throat.

Jamileh laughs, licks her finger and "chalks one up" for herself. "Me one, you nil."

Blink blink. "If you think my score is nil, honey…" He shakes his head with a rueful grin. "Wait till you see the second half."

"No, no…wait until -you- see the second half," she counters in a cheeky tone.

He looks her up and down before he reaches a hand to shift his package a slight bit. "I can't wait. There's this hotspring up on the side of Mount Prior… it's gorgeous. It looks out over the whole ranch, you can see the herds moving across the landscape…"

"Is that where we're heading?" The question sounds innocent enough, but the caress below his waist, still light? Anything but.

He is quiet as she takes him again, undoing the artful shift of pressure in a single touch. He's off center, for just that moment, uncertainty playing across his features, a rare thing. "This…" He licks his lips then, whetting them… "This weekend, yes… I'll fly us up…"

Jamileh murmurs, "I'm listening," as she makes her touch a little more purposeful, though ensuring that she neither presses nor grabs, simply stroking the defined ridge with the same sort of affection she might have his hand. But with different results.

He places one hand on her wrist. "I.. you…" A swallow, his adams apple dipping as he does so. "You neeed to stop that…" He doesn't move away though, not quite having the will power for that.

"No," comes her very soft answer, "I need not to stop it."

«Auto-Judge[]» Johny (#799) rolls Willpower for "Mrmmmm.":
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His hand finds her wrist as his composure returns, a tightness to the sides of his lips. "Jamileh." His voice stoic… "I want… nothing more than to pin you to the side of the truck and take you. To take you until I am sated and you are a mueling pile of flesh that doesn't understand quite what just happened." He moves the hand away from his crotch… "But… I can't do that. Not here. Not now. I… I would regret it."

«Auto-Judge[]» Jamileh (#2025) rolls Willpower:
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Jamileh's eyes open, her mouth moves a little, and a petulant expression creases her forehead. After a small eternity she mentions lightly, "Your gear and my shirt and shorts are at the river still. I'll go get them."

"Okay… okay…" He says, stepping close then to kiss her firmly, powerfully… "I want you, Vruken, unda Mera-a-a-arg, I want you. But I cannot have you yet."

Jamileh returns the kiss, but perhaps not with quite the same fervor as before. Then she tries to wriggle loose to do as she indicated and go get their things. Distance, you see.

When she comes back, he's got the tailgate on the truck down, seated on it. His boots are off, the socks drying on the truck bed. He is drinking a bottle of water and has some energy bars sitting next to him. He watches her as she comes out of the forest, eyes steady.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, back up to the truck she walks, wearing her shorts and shirt again and carrying his fishing gear. The clothing is plastered to her, and her teeth chatter ever so slightly: she is freshly soaked. "Here."

Johny reaches out, touching her cheek. "I'm sorry to be so frustrating, Jam…" He says, taking his fishing gear which she kindly brought him. "I'm… really sorry."

"Please," she answers quietly, "please don't apologize for being yourself. I'm not asking anyone to change for me. I said I'd wait, and I'll wait." Looking past him at the BMW parked nearby, Jam adds more softly yet, "Just let me be a frog in a sock a bit, all right?"

Johny quirks a brow. "… Eh?"

Jamileh smirks. "Angry. Let me be bloody cranky a bit. Remind me that you're having as much trouble waiting as I am."

He looks down then. "I wish I could show you what its like to look out my eyes, to see you, so beautiful and desirable, and desiring me… to want to be within you, inside you, touching you in places only a man can… by god, Jam… I want you so very much. I just… I need to do this on my terms. For me as well as you."

"I know, Johan, I keep telling myself that," comes her gentle reply as she turns her gaze back to him, "and I get to that point eventually, once I'm cooled off. I'll wait for what you need, then we'll have what we want. Yeah?"

Johny nods as he exhales, turning to the truck. "I just… want you to respect me, and I want to show you the respect you are due. No ones done that in your life, and by god, I want to be clear, you are -worth- something."

Jamileh puts a hand on Johny's back, massaging lightly and silently, then she leans her head against a spot near that hand to breathe, "When you say things like that, my heart turns over and I just want to hold you forever."

Johny pauses at her touch. "I want you, Jam. But I want you in a way more than my flesh inside your own."

No response at all this time, but her other arm reaches around his waist to hold herself there against him.

He doesn't have to say anything else. She doesn't have to say anything else. But he IS getting wet thanks to her position and that drenched shirt she's wearing.

Johny pulls away after a few moments, lookign back to her. "I'll see you later today." He says, smiling then. "I need to go home and take a hot shower, work out and then go … to work."

Jamileh kisses the back of his neck, pulls away, and turns to trot back to the Beemer.

After giving his backside a good whack.

Johny gets up in the truck, looking back to the woman as he puts the truck in gear. He blows her a kiss, then roars off down the road.

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