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

February 14, 2000

"Come on, Mac. It will be okay. No one will ever know," I say, and she looks stunned. No, beyond stunned. Her eyes are the size of harvest moons, brimming with astonishment. It is as if she has never seen me before and I just materialized out of thin air.  She is mouthing words and no sound is coming out. While reading her lips, I think the words 'insane' and 'court martial' and 'Leavenworth' might have come up, but I could be mistaken.

Finally, her short period of being at a loss for words ends and I almost wish it hadn't.

"Harm, have you gone insane! Do you know what will happen if anybody finds out?" she asks excitedly, her voice rising in pitch the longer she talks. "If we get to remain in the military, which is unlikely, you and I will be working supply somewhere a hell of a lot colder than it is here."

I put my fork down and close the plastic lid on the remainder of my salad. It's leftover from today's lunch and it has satisfied me thoroughly. Well, in the food department anyway. Mac's half eaten Beltway Burger has been forgotten, its greasy remains sitting on the corner of my desk.

Mac's eyes are focused on mine, all chocolate brown and bewilderment, hardly believing I would put forth such an idea. Finally she looks away, choosing to stare out the window. Heavy snow has been coming down for hours now, and Mac and I are stuck working on a case that was supposed to go to a hearing tomorrow morning. Now we are also stuck in the building, hearing or no hearing. Blowing in on a massive winter storm that has threatened to blanket the entire Atlantic seaboard, snow has filled the parking lot, covered the road out of here and buried our cars. We are held hostage in the office, unable to go anywhere. And on Valentine's day even. Damn. I didn't even buy her a card.

"No one will ever know," I repeat, leaning forward, using my most sincere tone of voice to invoke a sense of confidence in her. Our uniform jackets have been discarded hours ago and I'm dying to roll up my shirtsleeves. "Everybody has been gone for hours and no one can get back here. Not unless they drive a snowplow."

"Harm, do you know exactly what you are suggesting?" she asks, the frequency of her voice finally coming down to its old self. She leans toward me, placing her hands on top of the files we were just working on.

"I know exactly what I'm suggesting. Mac, DC and the surrounding states are all under a severe weather advisory. We are trapped here. You and me. Alone. When will we ever get another chance like this?" I ask. I put my hands on top of hers. They are cold. It is cold in here, but I know a way we could stay warm. "Besides, it isn't the most daring thing you've done this month."

With that reminder, I give her my best 'please do this for me' smile, hoping that it can even overcome her worries about this. It hasn't failed me yet.

She fidgets around in her seat, ignoring my smile. Ignoring me entirely, actually. She's lost in her thoughts. I know she wants to do this as badly as I do. Becoming lovers was no easy step for the two of us, but it was inevitable. And a snow storm is a perfect excuse to visit that part of our relationship again. Work is the only thing that really gets in the way.

We have managed to stay out of trouble so far, but I'm tired of sneaking around after midnight to see her. Now it is Valentine's Day, we are trapped here alone, and I want to be with her.

Mac gives me a look and I recognize right away that I've won. She's going to go along with my little plan, as wrong as it may be.

This is a plan neither of us will ever forget.

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

After making sure the door is locked, Mac closes the blinds. It is doubtful anyone could see through the heavy curtain of snow coming down, but she's really taking no chances with this. I stand in the middle of the dark room, watching her go about making this as covert as possible.

I'm tempted to light a fire but that would be hard to hide. They need to get the furnace fixed. It is freezing in here and there is only one way to stay warm now.

"This is your fantasy. What now?" she asks. The room is lit only by the bulb in the desk lamp, and that light barely manages to spill over the edges of the heavy, wooden desk.

"Come on, Mac. You've never even considered doing this in here?" I ask, going behind the desk and sinking into the leather chair. I lean back, ready to put my feet up when she answers.

"Not with you," she mutters under her breath, eyes set a glimmer by whatever thought is traveling across her mind. I nearly topple over backwards in the chair but catch myself, looking like an ice skater doing windmills with their arms to avoid landing on their ass.

Mac sits down on the desk in front of me, sliding up on the ever-present blotter. She is back lit from the desk lamp, and it gives her a soft, halogen bulb halo effect. Her legs are crossed neatly, the hemline of her skirt pulled over her knees. I plan to take care of that. The chair creaks as I lean forward, coming closer to her, and as quickly as she crossed them, her legs come uncrossed.

I take off one of her pumps followed by the other, tossing them aside. My hand runs up the silky smoothness of her expensive hosiery, dipping under her skirt hem and up her thigh. Mac, my tough Marine Colonel, wears thigh high hose, and I tug one down with the tip of my finger, rolling it off.

She sits up there, on the Admiral's desk, watching this all unfold. I'm sure the Admiral wouldn't be amused by what we are doing, but so far, he hasn't said anything about the rumors of the new status of our relationship. Some day, he will have to, but for now, he just walks off in quiet resignation whenever he sees us together. Not that we have ever done anything this blatant in the office. We wouldn't dream of it. Not until now.

Mac puts her feet on my thighs, parting her legs slightly. I roll her remaining stocking off and cast it away with the shoes. Both my hands go up under skirt, feeling the smooth coolness of her skin. I loop my fingers through the sides of her panties, some thong made of a few scraps of silk and lace, enjoying the feel of it. Tracing the front down to the apex of her sex, I dip a finger in to discover how warm and wet she is. And she is pretending not to enjoy this.

"Lift up," I say, and she does so long enough for me to do away with her panties. We both smile at the scrap of fabric now in my hands. Red silk with a tiny heart cut out in lace on the front. So, she did have some Valentine's day plans but just not this.

Her skirt is hiked up around her waist, leaving her exposed to just me. Now I can do some work the likes of which have probably never been done on this desk before. I put one of her legs over each of my shoulders and tug her toward me. She catches herself, holding on to the edge of the desk and I hone in on my target.

My tongue swirls around her clit, and she slides further off the desk, meeting my mouth. She is as silky as the panties that just graced this part of her body and I love the way she trembles when my lips make contact with her. Her curls are still neatly waxed into a tiny V for the bikini weather we were just in, and I'm suddenly envious of the person who gets to do that job. I never asked about it. Never thought about it.

My fingers part her folds a little more, allowing my tongue even better access. In and out of her I explore, enjoying the taste of her sweet wetness. I go back to that tiny nub of nerves and she moans, thrusting into my face, seeking satisfaction. The more I move, the more the leather creaks beneath me. A moan and then a creak, sounding sexier than anything I've heard in my life.

I sit back, letting my fingers finish what my mouth has begun. I want to watch her come . . . see her face twist with pleasure. My thumb circles and circles. Her hips grind out little circles of their own, echoing my motions.

"No . . . stop," she gasps, pushing my hand away. Her legs unloop from around my neck and she struggles to come down from that pre-orgasmic high I put her on.

"What?" I ask, puzzled. "Did I do something wrong?"

"I want to come with you in me," she says, sliding down from the desk and onto my lap. Her fingers undo my tie and then the buttons down the front of my shirt, but she doesn't take it off. Mac just draws a figure over my heart and I can guess what it is.

"How do you want to do this?" I ask, and before she answers, she kisses me. Lips seek out more and her tongue slides across mine. I taste of her, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"I want to do you on this chair. And every time I ever hear it creak again, I will think of you," she says, as our mouths part ways. Mac's hands deftly unfasten my belt and pants and she has to stand while I slide them down, taking off my boxers, too. The smooth leather is cold against my ass but she is so warm. My hard on is already begging for some sort of contact and she provides it quickly.

"Is it okay . . ." I ask. She went back on the pill recently, but I have no idea what the whole biochemical mechanics of those things entail.

"Yes. . ." she moans, her voice barely a desire-filled whisper.

"Because if it isn't, you wouldn't believe what the Admiral has in his drawer," I say, and she doesn't seem surprised. She just smiles.

I scoot forward on the chair and she straddles me easily. Thank God for big, leather executive chairs. Mac teases me, rubbing me with her wetness, driving me to beg her to let me enter. She sinks down on me easily, taking all of my erection in. We are eye to eye, locked in an intense staring contest neither of us can break.

I thrust up into her and she thrusts back. . .  the chair creaking under the strain of our motions, a constant squeak squeak squeak of leather that is sensual in itself.

Mac reaches down between us, touching herself, completely uninhibited in front of me. She can be such a free spirit when she wants to be. Her other hand is on the back of the chair behind me, using it for leverage. I wish I would have thought to unbutton her shirt so I could have access to her breasts. They are beautiful, especially now that they are tan.

Instead, I watch her eyes . . . watch the fire build in them, working up to an explosive heat. She comes, her eyes finally slamming shut as her body shudders on top of mine. The winter begins to thaw around us simply from her heat and I know I'm not too far behind. I'll be melting soon, too.

She focuses on me again, both her hands now on my shoulders as she begins to ride me faster. This chair is so damn noisy that if there was anybody in the building they would surely hear this. Thank God for stormy weather and deep snow.

It only takes a moment before I'm following her into heaven, closing my eyes to the blinding light that comes with my orgasm. I release everything into her and she takes it, holding on to me.

Soon my body returns to earth and she moves off of me.

"What a mess!" she says, looking down at the chair beneath us.

"Good thing leather cleans up easily," I say, grabbing a tissue box off the desk. Now his blotter on the other hand . . . well, I don't know what to do about that.

Mac begins to get dressed again while I clean up and get dressed myself. We kiss each other passionately while we are still here, knowing we do have to go back to work . . . away from this fantasy we just lived.

We both jump when we hear a rattle outside the door. Shit! Well, at least we are dressed. The question as to why we would be standing in the Admiral's office with the door locked will still be hard to answer . . . but at least we have our sixes back in uniforms. Still, the room smells heavily of sex. There is no denying that.

Mac and I pretend we are looking for something when the door swings open. Bud and Harriet stand there, looking stunned. They are still in their heavy jackets but I can tell they didn't come here to work.

"What are you doing here?" Mac asks suspiciously, and the two of them start to talk over each other.

"We didn't expect anyone to still be here!" Harriet says, eying the office up.

"Shouldn't you two be at home?" Bud asks, acting far too guilty.

"No . . . we have that hearing . . .  we will be here for a while," I say, watching their expressions fall flat. "Where is baby AJ?"

"My parents are here to visit, sir. They've been here for two weeks and we . . ." Harriet starts to say before realizing she's saying too much.

"And you wanted to get away?" Mac asks, looking at me.

"We'll be going now," Bud says, taking Harriet's hand.

"That would probably be a good idea," I say, and the two of them scurry off together back out into the snow.

Mac begins to laugh as soon as they're gone. "Seems the Admiral's desk is a pretty popular place," she says, looking back at his office. Every item is back in place and the leather chair is tucked in neatly. I have no idea how I'm going to attend a meeting in here again without grinning my ass of.

Yes, this is a pretty damn popular place. Hopefully . . . someday, it will be mine, squeaky chair and all.

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

The End