letsallchant (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
letsallchant) wrote2011-10-30 06:42 am
letsallchant) wrote2011-10-30 06:42 am
The Five Times Alexandra Eames Fucked and Ran
Note: Based on the classic Liz Phair song. Much like that song, not everything here literal. Also, this is longer than what was originally posted.
1. She was 12 and still wanted to be an actress. It was the summer her Uncle Mike and Uncle Jeff sent her to a drama camp that turned out to be a cornucopia of rich privileged products of fruitful enabling and woeful neglect.
The other children scared and fascinated her, their blind, bold entitlement both comical and foreign to her. She instinctively knew she didn't belong, that rich or poor, she wasn't meant for this. She remembers coming home 2 weeks earlier than planned after begging her parents to come and get her.
"That camp cost your uncles a lot of money Alexandra," her mother warned in that wrenching voice that still has the power to make her feel guilty 30 years after the fact.
Yet, whenever she goes undercover, just for a minute, she's that same little girl playing a role in front of her mirror. She relishes it every chance she gets.
2.
It was a backseat affair, as most things are at that age. She remembers the faux leather sticking against her thighs, the sounds of Cheap Trick on the radio as his sweaty hands tugged impatiently at her hair, guiding her, nearly gagging her in the process. However, it didn't hurt as much as when he harshly pushed inside her, or when he gave her a "oh fuck, that was so good" for her efforts.
When she shut the car door, sore, disappointed, bleeding a little, and unimpressed with such a much ballyhooed act as sex, she waved goodbye.
"Hey Alex..... it'll be better next time. I promise. You'll get used to it."
Yeah right, that's a whole seven minutes I'll never get back, she thought as he sped away in his camaro.
The next day at school, she was decidingly cooler than she was the day before--especially with the male population. She felt a shame both new, yet strangely familiar. She wished she could be anyone else, preferably a different gender.
When he offered to take her on a real date, she said yes.
Yet, that Friday night, while Ryan Marino waited for hours, looking at hordes of tiny blonds, desperately searching for her, finally leaving the movieplex in anger, she hung out after hours at the football field with the rest of the cheerleading team. She made a lot of good friends that night. They'd share secrets, lipstick, bottles of booze, disappointment and all the other things that came with being young and female. With this, she felt a sense of renewal, of who she would be.
She'd decided right then and there, she would never fall for Ryan or other guys like him ever again. Yet, as much as she would hate to admit it, Ryan Marino was the catalyst that culminated in her getting crowned prom queen four years later. She never forgot him, but she learned many things about herself, none of it to do with him.
3.
"You're leaving--just like that?" he asked in that annoying Boston accent of his as she fastened her bra.
"Just like that," she buttoned up her shirt crookedly, missing a few in the process.
"I'd like to call you sometime. We could you know... go out on a real date."
She was trying to make this swift and painless, but he was making it hard. Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose, bracing herself.
"Look, we don't have much in common. We go to the same academy. That's it. There's no future. You know this." She bit the inside of her cheek, looking over at the Red Sox poster on his wall. What had she been thinking?
"This never happened," she said, shutting the door behind her.
Three years later on her wedding day, she ruminated over this chance encounter.
She'd been an idiot. A stubborn one at that. If she hadn't finally let up, and if he hadn't run after her like a huge overgrown puppy that didn't know any better, she would have missed out on some of the happiest years of her life.
4.
It all started with drinks.
They had just worked their first and only case together, feeling the need for a nice cold drink. They hadn't spoken much before this, but they really hit off. Each of them had a lot in common, rogue, unpredictable partners notwithstanding.
"So this is might be my last night here."
Alex never thought she'd be getting the whole "shipping off tomorrow" speech, but here they were, the statement lingering in the air, carrying undertones and opportunity with it.
An hour later into good conversation, and it was closing time.
"Come on, I've got some better scotch at my place."
"He did what?"
"Yeah."
"Well... at least yours doesn't have onion breath 24/7"
"So...do you like working with Goren?"
Alex shrugged, "It's....interesting. He's interesting. But it's not as tough as it looks. We get along."
"Are you two..." She could tell Megan wished she hadn't said it as quickly as she thought it.
"No. NO." Alex laughed, putting her at ease. "I mean, don't get me wrong, he's not a bad guy, he can be sweet and all, but I could NEVER....plus, I mean, have you seen him when he's really into a case?"
"Oh, he must be intense.....you know, tough to follow along."
Alex frowned, "Well not that tough."
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way. I mean, you're really smart. And quick. And-"
"Megan, I'm messing with you. I know I'm smart. I mean, really." She rolled her eyes, taking a exaggerated. disapproving sip of her martini.
There was beat before they both start laughing. As their laughter died down, there was something strange in the air, a vibe of some sort. Before she could even vaguely identitfy it, it happened.
Megan kissed her, shocking her in the process. It was a hot, direct, soft and passionate--full of everything she wanted, yet hadn't been receiving in a long time. There was no pretense, no thought, no bullshit games, just their mouths, and Megan hands softly caressing her face - this small gesture strangely affected her the most.
She pulled away. Alex spied some panic, embarrassment, and a little remorse there too.
"Alex...I'm sorry--I shouldn't have assumed that you wanted or that you were......I'm sorry."
"Uh, it's ok. I've just never, you know," she gestured feebly at nothing.
She really didn't know how to feel about all of this. On one hand, she had never kissed another woman, or even realistically thought about doing it before. Her lips had felt so foreign on her, yet they didn't feel terrible either. She'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the soft, delicate feel of her mouth on her. Maybe this wouldn't be bad. And would it really be so different with another woman?
In the end, Alex's curiosity and adventurous streak took hold of her mind and body.
Resolutely, she caught her eyes, remarking on the green. Swallowing her courage, she climbed onto her lap, straddling her, resting her hands on her narrow shoulders-- and she felt odd doing this, but at the time, she was only relying on instinct. She ran her fingers along the skin of Megan's bare collarbone and, sliding down past the lightweight fabric encasing small breasts, waking up erect nipples before kissing the swell of each breast.. Feeling her tremble underneath her, flattered by the reaction she was getting, impulsively, she bent her head down, tasting the soft, supple skin on her neck that had been secretly beckoning her all night. She felt her arousal already settling in.
"It doesn't....*nip*....have to...*suck*.....be anything...." Alex paused before opening Megan's mouth with her own.
They barely made it to the bedroom. Clothes strewn, hearts beating, things had become rushed.
"Alex you don't have to-" Megan said as she lifted her hips and Alex slid off her underwear.
"I..." she began before Megan groaned as Alex rose up and took a nipple into her mouth, doing the same with the other one.
"...want to" she said after she finished her worship of her breasts.
"Alex are you sure?.....oh my god.....where did you...I didn't know you..." she trailed off as Alex slyly continued, a satisfied smile wanting to curl up, even though she was otherwise occupied.
They were all hands, mouths, tongues, and gasps, their pleasure seemingly having no end, and no beginning. They existed in some other plane, Alex couldn't classify it as fucking, but she was hardly convinced it was love either. To her, it was absolutely perfect.
She woke up the next morning, sated and legs entwined, the smell of sex still lingering, along with a long freckled arm wrapped up around waist. Relief washed across her as she remembered the conversation from last night. This wasn't anything, she thought, as she slowly broke apart from a slack Megan, still sleeping off the gin. "Lightweight," she thought as she shook her head and smiled, ruffling her auburn hair. Tracing the freckles on Megan's shoulder, she fought the urge to kiss her there and connect them all with her tongue the way she had done all over Megan's body last night. She'd never slept with anyone this freckled.
She didn't regret a minute of it.
Six months later, she was in for a surprise as Megan Wheeler walked back into the squad room. They made brief eye contact as she breezed by.
"Alex."
"You're back..... how was, uh, Europe?"
She spied an engagement ring on her finger. She was equal parts relieved and disappointed.
5.
The bitter sting of the cold water is getting worse.
She knew she couldn't stay in there forever. But she figures a measly 5 more minutes wouldn't hurt.
And so she stood there, in the corner as her feet got redder and more frozen with every second. Every now and then she stopped to peak around the shower curtain to check the clock.
She has to endure this. Otherwise she would have to face him, and she just can't handle that right now. "Its the cowards way out, and Eames aren't cowards," Johnny Eames would have said in cliche-sprouting way. She thinks her dad would've made an exception for this.
She blames herself for letting this happen. She could have told him to stop. Or refrained from kissing him back. Also, she probably should have just held off on pushing him down on her bed and practically attacking him.
When she faces him from across their desks the next day, she ignores his searching looks and open vulnerability, and a little part of her dies in the process. Sadly, she knows this one won't run after her.
She's lost many things, she thinks, as a dull pain swells up inside of her, what was one more?
Afraid, yet brave, the contradictions that stirred in her made her want to pull her hair out and just call it quits.
Maybe she could move to Alaska. Get a mundane, yet comforting job. Attempt get a another pet.
Or best yet. Feign sick and go home.
"I think I'm getting that bug that's been going around. Captain....if you don't mind-" It was all she had to say. It was juvenile really, but she was desperate.
"Eames?" he called out after she left the Captain's office, picking up her coat and bag.
"I have to go," she called out behind her.
It was that easy.
She feels the same panic she felt in the shower the morning before.
He kept calling. And now he's at the door, and she's touched by this, and so surprised that she wants to either laugh or cry.
She can't hide anymore. She readies herself, shrugging aside the shame, remembering her other one-night stands before this, and of how she handled it. Then briefly remembering Joe - the thoughts and memories creeping up at the oddest, most inopportune times. She's not ready for this. She assumes he isn't either. She wants to curse him, tell him to leave. But this is it. She's never been ready. She knows what's going to happen tonight, she braces herself as she prepares to accept everything that will result after this, of how her life is going to change once again.
"Come in Bobby."
1. She was 12 and still wanted to be an actress. It was the summer her Uncle Mike and Uncle Jeff sent her to a drama camp that turned out to be a cornucopia of rich privileged products of fruitful enabling and woeful neglect.
The other children scared and fascinated her, their blind, bold entitlement both comical and foreign to her. She instinctively knew she didn't belong, that rich or poor, she wasn't meant for this. She remembers coming home 2 weeks earlier than planned after begging her parents to come and get her.
"That camp cost your uncles a lot of money Alexandra," her mother warned in that wrenching voice that still has the power to make her feel guilty 30 years after the fact.
Yet, whenever she goes undercover, just for a minute, she's that same little girl playing a role in front of her mirror. She relishes it every chance she gets.
2.
It was a backseat affair, as most things are at that age. She remembers the faux leather sticking against her thighs, the sounds of Cheap Trick on the radio as his sweaty hands tugged impatiently at her hair, guiding her, nearly gagging her in the process. However, it didn't hurt as much as when he harshly pushed inside her, or when he gave her a "oh fuck, that was so good" for her efforts.
When she shut the car door, sore, disappointed, bleeding a little, and unimpressed with such a much ballyhooed act as sex, she waved goodbye.
"Hey Alex..... it'll be better next time. I promise. You'll get used to it."
Yeah right, that's a whole seven minutes I'll never get back, she thought as he sped away in his camaro.
The next day at school, she was decidingly cooler than she was the day before--especially with the male population. She felt a shame both new, yet strangely familiar. She wished she could be anyone else, preferably a different gender.
When he offered to take her on a real date, she said yes.
Yet, that Friday night, while Ryan Marino waited for hours, looking at hordes of tiny blonds, desperately searching for her, finally leaving the movieplex in anger, she hung out after hours at the football field with the rest of the cheerleading team. She made a lot of good friends that night. They'd share secrets, lipstick, bottles of booze, disappointment and all the other things that came with being young and female. With this, she felt a sense of renewal, of who she would be.
She'd decided right then and there, she would never fall for Ryan or other guys like him ever again. Yet, as much as she would hate to admit it, Ryan Marino was the catalyst that culminated in her getting crowned prom queen four years later. She never forgot him, but she learned many things about herself, none of it to do with him.
3.
"You're leaving--just like that?" he asked in that annoying Boston accent of his as she fastened her bra.
"Just like that," she buttoned up her shirt crookedly, missing a few in the process.
"I'd like to call you sometime. We could you know... go out on a real date."
She was trying to make this swift and painless, but he was making it hard. Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose, bracing herself.
"Look, we don't have much in common. We go to the same academy. That's it. There's no future. You know this." She bit the inside of her cheek, looking over at the Red Sox poster on his wall. What had she been thinking?
"This never happened," she said, shutting the door behind her.
Three years later on her wedding day, she ruminated over this chance encounter.
She'd been an idiot. A stubborn one at that. If she hadn't finally let up, and if he hadn't run after her like a huge overgrown puppy that didn't know any better, she would have missed out on some of the happiest years of her life.
4.
It all started with drinks.
They had just worked their first and only case together, feeling the need for a nice cold drink. They hadn't spoken much before this, but they really hit off. Each of them had a lot in common, rogue, unpredictable partners notwithstanding.
"So this is might be my last night here."
Alex never thought she'd be getting the whole "shipping off tomorrow" speech, but here they were, the statement lingering in the air, carrying undertones and opportunity with it.
An hour later into good conversation, and it was closing time.
"Come on, I've got some better scotch at my place."
"He did what?"
"Yeah."
"Well... at least yours doesn't have onion breath 24/7"
"So...do you like working with Goren?"
Alex shrugged, "It's....interesting. He's interesting. But it's not as tough as it looks. We get along."
"Are you two..." She could tell Megan wished she hadn't said it as quickly as she thought it.
"No. NO." Alex laughed, putting her at ease. "I mean, don't get me wrong, he's not a bad guy, he can be sweet and all, but I could NEVER....plus, I mean, have you seen him when he's really into a case?"
"Oh, he must be intense.....you know, tough to follow along."
Alex frowned, "Well not that tough."
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way. I mean, you're really smart. And quick. And-"
"Megan, I'm messing with you. I know I'm smart. I mean, really." She rolled her eyes, taking a exaggerated. disapproving sip of her martini.
There was beat before they both start laughing. As their laughter died down, there was something strange in the air, a vibe of some sort. Before she could even vaguely identitfy it, it happened.
Megan kissed her, shocking her in the process. It was a hot, direct, soft and passionate--full of everything she wanted, yet hadn't been receiving in a long time. There was no pretense, no thought, no bullshit games, just their mouths, and Megan hands softly caressing her face - this small gesture strangely affected her the most.
She pulled away. Alex spied some panic, embarrassment, and a little remorse there too.
"Alex...I'm sorry--I shouldn't have assumed that you wanted or that you were......I'm sorry."
"Uh, it's ok. I've just never, you know," she gestured feebly at nothing.
She really didn't know how to feel about all of this. On one hand, she had never kissed another woman, or even realistically thought about doing it before. Her lips had felt so foreign on her, yet they didn't feel terrible either. She'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the soft, delicate feel of her mouth on her. Maybe this wouldn't be bad. And would it really be so different with another woman?
In the end, Alex's curiosity and adventurous streak took hold of her mind and body.
Resolutely, she caught her eyes, remarking on the green. Swallowing her courage, she climbed onto her lap, straddling her, resting her hands on her narrow shoulders-- and she felt odd doing this, but at the time, she was only relying on instinct. She ran her fingers along the skin of Megan's bare collarbone and, sliding down past the lightweight fabric encasing small breasts, waking up erect nipples before kissing the swell of each breast.. Feeling her tremble underneath her, flattered by the reaction she was getting, impulsively, she bent her head down, tasting the soft, supple skin on her neck that had been secretly beckoning her all night. She felt her arousal already settling in.
"It doesn't....*nip*....have to...*suck*.....be anything...." Alex paused before opening Megan's mouth with her own.
They barely made it to the bedroom. Clothes strewn, hearts beating, things had become rushed.
"Alex you don't have to-" Megan said as she lifted her hips and Alex slid off her underwear.
"I..." she began before Megan groaned as Alex rose up and took a nipple into her mouth, doing the same with the other one.
"...want to" she said after she finished her worship of her breasts.
"Alex are you sure?.....oh my god.....where did you...I didn't know you..." she trailed off as Alex slyly continued, a satisfied smile wanting to curl up, even though she was otherwise occupied.
They were all hands, mouths, tongues, and gasps, their pleasure seemingly having no end, and no beginning. They existed in some other plane, Alex couldn't classify it as fucking, but she was hardly convinced it was love either. To her, it was absolutely perfect.
She woke up the next morning, sated and legs entwined, the smell of sex still lingering, along with a long freckled arm wrapped up around waist. Relief washed across her as she remembered the conversation from last night. This wasn't anything, she thought, as she slowly broke apart from a slack Megan, still sleeping off the gin. "Lightweight," she thought as she shook her head and smiled, ruffling her auburn hair. Tracing the freckles on Megan's shoulder, she fought the urge to kiss her there and connect them all with her tongue the way she had done all over Megan's body last night. She'd never slept with anyone this freckled.
She didn't regret a minute of it.
Six months later, she was in for a surprise as Megan Wheeler walked back into the squad room. They made brief eye contact as she breezed by.
"Alex."
"You're back..... how was, uh, Europe?"
She spied an engagement ring on her finger. She was equal parts relieved and disappointed.
5.
The bitter sting of the cold water is getting worse.
She knew she couldn't stay in there forever. But she figures a measly 5 more minutes wouldn't hurt.
And so she stood there, in the corner as her feet got redder and more frozen with every second. Every now and then she stopped to peak around the shower curtain to check the clock.
She has to endure this. Otherwise she would have to face him, and she just can't handle that right now. "Its the cowards way out, and Eames aren't cowards," Johnny Eames would have said in cliche-sprouting way. She thinks her dad would've made an exception for this.
She blames herself for letting this happen. She could have told him to stop. Or refrained from kissing him back. Also, she probably should have just held off on pushing him down on her bed and practically attacking him.
When she faces him from across their desks the next day, she ignores his searching looks and open vulnerability, and a little part of her dies in the process. Sadly, she knows this one won't run after her.
She's lost many things, she thinks, as a dull pain swells up inside of her, what was one more?
Afraid, yet brave, the contradictions that stirred in her made her want to pull her hair out and just call it quits.
Maybe she could move to Alaska. Get a mundane, yet comforting job. Attempt get a another pet.
Or best yet. Feign sick and go home.
"I think I'm getting that bug that's been going around. Captain....if you don't mind-" It was all she had to say. It was juvenile really, but she was desperate.
"Eames?" he called out after she left the Captain's office, picking up her coat and bag.
"I have to go," she called out behind her.
It was that easy.
She feels the same panic she felt in the shower the morning before.
He kept calling. And now he's at the door, and she's touched by this, and so surprised that she wants to either laugh or cry.
She can't hide anymore. She readies herself, shrugging aside the shame, remembering her other one-night stands before this, and of how she handled it. Then briefly remembering Joe - the thoughts and memories creeping up at the oddest, most inopportune times. She's not ready for this. She assumes he isn't either. She wants to curse him, tell him to leave. But this is it. She's never been ready. She knows what's going to happen tonight, she braces herself as she prepares to accept everything that will result after this, of how her life is going to change once again.
"Come in Bobby."