Arena Ch. 04

Book #2: Arena

Chapter 4

Most mornings Rick wakes before Giselle, especially on weekday mornings, but Giselle disentangling herself from the mess that is their bed wakes him. Except for another layer of the bed's decorative cover being thrown over them for warmth, they are very nearly in the same position they went to sleep in the night before. She pulls herself out of the snuggle, throwing back the linens draped over them.

He follows her into the bathroom and, as she relieves herself, looks at himself in the mirror. He looks like hell. His upper lip is swollen on the right side, his chest, back, arms, and the upper part of his legs are dotted with bruises, and that's not mentioning the nasty-looking scratches on his left bicep and right shoulder. All in all, he looks like he's come out second best in a bar fight. She steps in close, looking at his battle scars in the dim glow of the house's safety lights, tears forming in her eyes as she surveys the damage.

"Don't you dare apologize," he says softly, stroking her cheek. "I'm fine, and there's nothing to apologize for." He pauses, then trying to lighten her mood, adds, "Well, I'll be fine as soon as I pee." She sniffs as he slips past her.

When he comes out of the bathroom he finds her once again lying nude on the bed, the view making his penis twitch. Sometime in the night the power had come back on, so he checks the time. 5:18. Normally he'd be waking up in ten minutes, getting ready for work, but seeing her lying there makes him rethink his habit of arriving an hour early to work, at least for today.

"How much do you hurt?" she asks as he lies down in the bed beside her, propping on an elbow so he can look into her face.

"My lip is pretty sore where you hit me, and I swear, I think you loosened a couple ribs on my right side when you tried to kick me in the nuts. And my back hurts where you clawed me. And my arm. And shoulder." He uses a light and playful tone, teasing her more than actually complaining, but she isn't smiling.

"I'm so sor—" she begins before he places a hand gently over her mouth, cutting her off.

He would have covered her mouth with his own, but his lip hurts like a bitch. "No apologies," he says quietly, before removing his hand. "I asked for it, I wanted it, and I'll do it again tomorrow if necessary." He pauses, studying her, her face scrunching up like she might cry. "No tears either. There's nothing to be sorry for." And this time he does kiss her lightly on the lips.

She looks at his face, feeling awful for what she's done to him. "I'm sorry I hit you Rick," she says, needing to apologize. "I don't know what came over me, but I was so mad. When you started holding me down, I was so mad that I wanted to kill you."

"And you tried," he chuckles.

"It's not funny, Rick!"

"No, it's not, but you needed to get that out of your system. Don't you feel better now that you have?"

She realizes that she does feel more like her old self than she has since Thursday. "I suppose, but I shouldn't be taking my anger out on you."

"Why not? If that's what it takes for you to let it go, then I'm fine with that." He waggles his eyebrows at her. "Then we can make up later."

She giggles. "Well, the make up sex last night was pretty good."

He looks at her in amazement. "Pretty good? It must have been better for me then because that was the most amazing sexual experience I've ever had. Ever."

She giggles again, "Okay, maybe a little better than pretty good," she says, before turning serious. "I worry about what that means for us though."

"What do you mean?"

"The fact that our lovemaking was so... spectacular... after our fight."

"I don't think it means anything. We really didn't fight. You were mad, but I wasn't. And that thunderstorm, don't you think that played into it as well? I know it did for me. Us going at it like that with the storm pounding outside..." He can feel himself getting hard just thinking about it. "It's called arousal transference. The transference of one arousal state to another. You were mad, I was upset that you were mad, and the storm probably added some element of fear way back in the back of brain where the animal in all of us lives. So those feelings of anger and fear, they transferred to the feelings of passion and desire." She looks at him with wide eyes, surprise clear on her face. "You learn a lot dating a marriage counselor," he says with a shrug.

"So because I was pissed off, I wanted you more?"

"That's it in a nutshell. In fact, that's where my idea for the gladiator sex came from. One of Sheryl's standard bits of advice for couples that were having trouble in their marriage, where the marriage is basically strong but the spark has gone out of it, is to wrestle. Get a wrestling mat, toss it on the garage floor, get naked, and get busy. The aggression and the desire to win, along with the naked bodies... Aggression becomes lust, and bada-boom, bada-bing, suddenly there is passion where there was none before."

"I suppose," she says uncertainly.

"Trust me. There is nothing to worry about here. Nothing. Were you mad at me? Are you mad at me now?"

"No, I wasn't mad at you. Not really. I was just mad at the world."

"Are you mad at me now?"

"No," she says softly.

"I love you more now than ever," he says, touching her cheek. "Do you still love me?"

"Of course. More than I can tell you," she replies tenderly.

"There... is... no... problem... here," Rick says, clearly enunciating each word as he slowly leans in to kiss her gently on the lips.

The moment his lips touch hers, she pulls him to her, needing to feel him close, rolling onto her back and pulling him with her, kissing him deeply, feeling his lips, his body on hers. Oh, why couldn't he have picked the fight Saturday night, so they could work all of the pent up desire out her system yesterday? She breaks off the kiss, feeling him moving to cover her body with his own, but they didn't have enough time! As much as she wants him, she needs to get ready for work.

"No, not now Rick. Tonight," she whispers into his ear.

"We have time," he murmurs, positioning himself to enter her.

She groans, torn between desires. "We have to get ready for work," she says, kissing him on her ear.

"We have time," he repeats, pushing his penis gently into her, burying his face in her neck, kissing her lightly in deference to his sore lip. She is slightly dry, but as he slowly enters her, her wetness comes.

She moans as he enters her, pulling him tight as he nuzzles her neck. "We have to stop," she moans as he makes slow erotic love to her. "Oh God, Rick! Please, we have to stop. We don't..." she begins, her voice dragging to a stop.

"No," he breathes, kissing her neck, drawing the word out as he thrusts into her. "The jobs can wait. The world can wait. It is just you and me now."

He mans up, ignores the soreness of his lip, and kisses her passionately, sinking lower onto her, pressing their bodies together.

"Yes..." she sighs into his kiss, no longer caring if she were late, or if she went to work at all.

He feels her finally give herself over to their lovemaking, relaxing in his embrace. Now that he has her attention, he focuses on giving her as much pleasure as he can. Normally he would stop and attack her with his lips and tongue, but because his lip hurts so damn much, especially after those last couple of kisses, he decides to continue what he's doing, but increases the power and speed of his thrusting.

She's lost herself in their lovemaking. Normally she'd be working her way up to an orgasm by now, but she's relaxed, feeling no urgency, enjoying the connection between a man and a woman in love, tenderly kissing him on the lips as he pleases her.

They make love slowly, gently, kissing, touching, and stroking each other for the next half-hour, and the only change is the rate of Rick's thrusting, speeding up, slowing down, adjusting his rhythm to please Giselle and himself. He doesn't believe he'll come this morning, his body, his passions wrung dry the night before, but as she begins to move and keen, his desire begins to rise with hers.

She's luxuriating in their lazy morning lovemaking, their ravaging of each other the previous night purging her of need. His tender touching has not driven her into a frenzy of lust and allows her to enjoy their closeness, but the feeling of him sliding comfortably inside her, along with his kisses and caresses, are finally beginning to inflame her passions. As they make love, her need builds, stalking her, demanding satisfaction. Finally she can suppress it no more and she kisses him more fervently, moaning with desires, moving in time with him, allowing her orgasm to come as it grows in power.

He kisses her, their tongues intertwining, fighting the urge to pull back because of the pain from his lip. He leans into the kiss, accepting the pain, embracing it, his desire for her swelling as he sucks gently on her lower lip, pushing her toward release. She gasps, breaking the kiss, pulling him tight to her as she thrusts her hips in time with his own. He drives into her with more urgency, the lazy lovemaking past as he drives them toward their orgasm, his own orgasm no so far away after all.

She feels his breath hot on her neck as he begins to slam forcibly into her, his breaths coming in pants from exertion and, she hopes, desire. Orgasm building, she grips him tighter still, pulling her climax forward, reaching for it, straining for it.

"Are you going to come?" she pants, her orgasm beginning to close in around her.

"Yes," he breathes into her neck, his rapture edging closer with each plunging thrust. "Are you?"

"Oh God... yes..." she gasps out, the last word held long as she slips into her orgasm, quivering as pleasure pours through her.

She falls into her climax, shaking slightly as it flows through her, and she grips him tight, arm pressing on the scratches on his shoulder. Though not as painful as his lip, the pain from his shoulder sings through him, reminding him of the fire from the previous night as he and Giselle writhed together, each caught in passion neither could control. With a deep grunt, he drives himself deep into her, holding himself there, as he comes.

She's coming out of her orgasm when Rick stiffen, thrusting himself into her with a hard grunt as his wetness splashes into her. He's tense for a moment, holding himself deep inside her before he relaxes with a deep exhalation of relief.

"I am so glad you never listen to me," she says, stroking his back.

He says nothing for a moment and then a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "I was listening to you," he says, kissing her gently on her neck, "I was listening to your body language, not your words."

"I'm glad that my body doesn't listen to me then," she says with a smile before nudging him to roll off her.

He goes willingly enough, but she follows him, lying on his chest, looking at his wounds, touching and kissing his hurts. Rick is a big, powerful, heavily-built man, kept trim by their passion for tennis, but that doesn't mean that he can't be hurt. She looks at the bruises and scratches she inflicted on him, and some of them look like they hurt indeed.

He can see she is tearing up again as she inventories his bumps and bruises. "No tears," he says, caressing her cheek with the back on his hand. "None of this hurts half as much as watching you suffer did. Giselle, you need to let it go. I'm not hurt, and I'm ready for round two anytime you need it." He smiles at her tenderly. "Please, let it go... for me."

Giselle gasps out a tearful laugh. "So anytime I feel the need to kick the shit out of someone, I should come see you?"

"You know where to find me," he says with a smile.

As she looks into his eyes, drowning in the love she sees there, her chip lets her know it's time for her to wake up, an alarm of Mozart's Symphony 40, which only she can hear, sounding in her ears. She groans, not wanting to move.

"My alarm went off. Now I really do need to get up," she says as she bends down for another kiss, gently this time and on the left side of his mouth to avoid the painful-looking swelling on the right. With a deep sigh, she rolls off of him and pads into the bathroom.

Rick watches her go, staring after her until he hears the shower start.

Rick has to endure a few wise-ass comments at work about his lip, the rest of the bruises hidden by his long-sleeved shirt, a shirt he selected for this reason. He takes the ribbing good-naturedly, knowing that once the novelty wears off, it will be forgotten.

He spends his morning looking for a particularly elusive bug in the latest release of the immersion recorder software. Sometimes the timer won't start if the recording time is set to start precisely at midnight. He's staring at the printed code—that's how desperate he's become, resorting to printing the timer subroutine out—waiting for inspiration to strike, when Charlie pings him. Grateful for the distraction he accepts the ping.

"Hello Charlie."

"Good morning Rick," Charlie says, almost giddy. "I have some good news."

"I could use some good news about now. What have you got?"

"I just heard from Sierra. She's agreed to be in Arena, but she wants part of the immersion."

"Part of the immersion? What does that mean?"

"She wants a cut of the profits."

"A cut? How much?"

"Fifteen percent of gross, with a fifty-thousand guarantee."

Rick frowns. "So basically we assume the risk, but if we hit it big, she gets a piece of the action? Am I understanding that right?"

"That about sums it up," she says, giving nothing away. "It's a fairly standard bargaining ploy."

Rick mulls it over. "Let's talk about it, but my first reaction is that I don't like it. Fifteen percent of gross? That seems like a lot. What do you and Todd think?"

"Todd is fine with it. I'm not so sure. I think we should go with either a piece of the action, or a fixed contract, but not both. As you said, she doesn't have any skin in the game—" she giggles, "—so to speak, if she has both."

"Okay. Let's tell her we'll think about it while we go ahead and try to match her up with someone. If worst comes to worst, we'll give her to Giselle. By the time Giselle gets done with her, she'll be paying us to be in the immersion," he says, smiling at the thought.

"There is one other demand," she says causing him to groan. "No, no, I think this one is much more reasonable. Sierra wants to have final approval over her co-star. I think we should agree to this. After all, it's her safety she's putting on the line. If she isn't comfortable with her co-star, I don't think we're going to get as good a performance out of her as we might."

He pauses, thinking it over. Charlie makes a good point. While they'll do everything they can to ensure the safety of the participants, it really is Sierra that's putting herself out there. "Agreed," he says, then smiles. "Maybe if we seem reasonable on this, she won't play hardball in the contract negotiations."

Charlie laughs. "You can hope, but I don't think this girl has it in her to back off. We'll see, though. I'll start bringing in the guys this week. I think the selection of the guy is going to go a lot easier. The hardest thing is probably going to be weeding out those that want to do it just so they can rough up a woman."

"I agree. Thinking about that has kept me up at nights. That's why I don't have a problem letting Sierra having a voice in this. I think we should let Giselle give them a look-see as well. If all three of you think the guy is on the up-and-up, then maybe it'll be alright."

"Good idea. I have one guy in mind, but I doubt we will get him. I'm going to bring him in first, and if he works out, I won't even bother with the rest."

"Who is it?"

"You've probably never heard of him, but his name is Paul Bell. He looks like a gladiator, stunningly good looking, and has a bit of acting experience. That should help him be more relaxed with what we're doing, and that should in turn help Sierra relax as well."

"You're right. I've never heard of him. What vid's has he played in?"

"He was in a vid called Jungle Snow—my God, what an awful vid—but he's suddenly become much more well known as a voice actor. He was just in a Disney vid called Leapfrog."

Rick grunts. "Our timing sucks, as usual. If you think he's the guy, do what you can to get him. Just don't bankrupt the company," he teases.

"You worry about the technical stuff and let me worry about the people," she says with a smile in her voice. "I have to go now. Got to try and get in touch with a frog."

Giselle looks up with the knock on her office door. Ted Beckel is standing there. "May I come in?" he asks.

"Of course, Mr. Beckel."

Ted steps into Giselle's off and closes the door before sitting down across from Giselle. "So, it's Mr. Beckel now, is it? I guess I can understand that. I heard about the kerfuffle on Thursday. I came by to apologize. Dex filled me in Friday, but I didn't have a chance to talk to you before you left. I was going to catch you that afternoon, but I saw Dick in your office. Anyway, Dex and I are in agreement that we, the firm I mean, were out of line. At the next partners meeting I'll be bringing this up and I suspect you will be issued a formal apology. But until that time, I wanted to offer you my personal apology."

"I'm sorry Mr. Beck... Ted, that it's come to this. I don't think what I did reflects poorly on the firm," she says. Her voice is soft but there is steel there.

"Giselle, I experienced Rick's immersion this weekend. Let me assure you, my dear, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Of all the partners, only Don doesn't have any skeletons in his closet. What you and Rick have is wonderful. I'm glad you've found someone that loves you as much as he does. You deserve it."

She feels herself soften, so much so that she wants to cry, but she bites back the tears. "Thank you Ted, that means a lot to me."

"When I brought you into the firm, I thought you'd be one of our best and brightest, and you haven't disappointed. I planned, still plan, to put you up for partner. Normally I wouldn't tell someone they were being considered, but with all of this..." He raises his hands, palm up in front of him as he looks around the office. "I wanted you to know, as a carrot, so to speak, to entice you to stay until this blows over."

She's surprised that he would tell her such a thing. She's always wanted to make partner, and she's worked her ass off while making sure she isn't perceived as just another bitch lawyer with an axe to grind, but now she's completely ambivalent about the whole thing.

"Thank you for considering me Ted, but I have to tell you, my entire outlook of Richards, Beckel & Lively has changed. I used to want a partnership more than anything. Now, I'm not so sure."

He smiles a little sadly. "I was afraid you might say that, and that's why I wanted to tell you. I don't want you to leave, Giselle. The three original partners are getting old. I'll be seventy-one in August. We need young blood to take over the firm. Back when we first selected Don to become a partner, we agreed that we'd select our replacements. You're my selection, and personally, I think you are the best among us here. The best person and the best contract lawyer. Don and Dick are good administrators, but I think that a law firm should be run by lawyers, and that's why we need you. Just give us a chance to make it up to you."

She smiles. "Okay. I won't leave today."

He smiles broadly at her. "That's a start. I may stop in tomorrow and see if I can get the same agreement." He rises out of his chair and extends his hand. "Thank you for all you have done for us."