Jumping Him

These events take place approximately two months after the events of Her Private Dick.

Hazen Allen smiled as she turned her bright red Mercedes into Josh's apartment complex. It seemed she was smiling a lot these last couple of months. Not only had the charges of AWOL--Absent Without Leave--against her brother been dropped, thanks in large part to Josh's testimony, but she and Josh were doing great!

After rescuing Koda, and Josh having his name splashed all over the national news for a day, and the local news for a couple of days after that, Josh had become a most eligible bachelor, and his small investigation firm, Joshua Stallard Investigations, had seen a noticeable uptick in interest. Nothing as interesting or exciting as helping a desperate woman track down her missing brother and then rescuing him from treasure ship plundering pirates, but he seemed much happier now that he wasn't spending all his time taking pictures of cheating spouses. The sudden increase in his income hadn't hurt his feelings either. Her smile spread slightly. She liked to think that in addition to the change in fortune with his firm, part of the reason he seemed happier now was because of her. She was certainly happier having met him.

She hadn't seen Koda since he was taken into custody by the Navy in Miami because he'd been confined to base during the AWOL investigation, and then afterwards as a disciplinary measure, but she was very interested to hear about Koda's experience after he returned from his deployment. Hopefully he'd no longer be confined to base and she could hear more details about his ordeal and what his crewmates had to say about him being kidnapped by pirates. Until he returned from sea, and was free to leave the base, she'd have to content herself listening to Josh's stories.

She pulled her car into a parking space beside Josh's Honda. His apartment was on the front side of the building, ground floor, and he was on his patio, wearing running shorts and sneakers with headphones on. Better than the shorts was the fact he was shirtless and sweating, his light brown hair plastered to his head as he skipped rope, his feet quickly moving in a complicated pattern as he bounced. She'd thought the black mat on the patio was to wipe feet on, but she now knew it had a different purpose. He was facing the door to his small, outside, storage closet and hadn't noticed her arrival.

Switching off her car, she sat watching, almost mesmerized by his graceful fluidity. When she'd first met him, she'd noticed his nice arms, but she'd severely underestimated the rest of him. While he wasn't bulky like a bodybuilder, after seeing him in all his male glory, she'd realized he was a serious stud-muffin. Standing around six-feet, he had just enough fat on him to make him comfortable to snuggle into, but that didn't detract in the least from his leanly muscled body. His stomach, though flat, wasn't rippled, but his chest, arms, legs, and ass, more than made up that tiny shortcoming. She knew he had to work out somehow to keep the body he had, and this was apparently his exercise of choice. A small leer tickled her lips. Watching him now explained his fantastic ass and legs, and probably his chest and arms as well.

During their time in Miami, she'd taught him to dance... sort of. They hadn't been dancing since because things had gotten hectic with his sudden notoriety, but she hadn't forgotten her promise to herself to work with him. He always moved with such fluid grace, she knew there was a dancer inside him just begging to be set free, and as she watched, her mouth drying as her womanhood moistened, she realized her biggest challenge would be simply convincing him that he could dance.

He quickly pivoted ninety degrees to face the parking lot and then immediately stopped... much to her disappointment. He smiled broadly and removed his headphones as she opened the door to her car and stepped out.

"You've been holding out on me," she said as she mirrored his smile.

As she shut the door, she noticed the blinds swaying gently as a woman across the parking lot stepped away from her patio door. She had the impression the woman had been watching Josh, and her smile grew even larger.

"What do you mean?" he panted as she approached.

He kissed her quickly on the lips, holding himself slightly away, clearly trying to avoid getting sweat on her suit.

"You said you couldn't dance." He looked at her quizzically. "What do you think you were just doing?"

"This?" he asked, holding the rope out slightly. She nodded. "Skipping rope."

"That wasn't just skipping rope."

"What do you mean?"

She smiled again and rolled her eyes. He was a total sweetheart, but sometimes he was absolutely clueless. She nodded at the headset. "What were you listening too?"

He looked at the headphones and shrugged. "Don't know. Some mix I found on the internet."

She pulled the headset from his hand and slid it over her head, listening a moment before removing the device. There were no lyrics, at least in the short bit she'd listened to, but the beat was fast and energetic. She handed the headphones back to him.

"That was dancing."

"No..." he said, drawing the word out as he grinned, "that was foot work."

She snickered. "What do you think dancing is, dumbass?"

"Babe, what I was doing was nothing like what you can do. The only thing I was doing was moving my feet."

"To the beat of the music?"

He shrugged. "I don't know... maybe."

"Show me."

"What do you mean, 'Show me.'?" he asked.

Without answering, she returned to her car. She rolled the windows down, searched the XM channels until she found something called Dance Town and cranked the volume. She stepped out of the car and shut the door. The music was clearly audible.

"Show me."

"Hazen, I--"

"Show me," she demanded again, pointing at the rope. She'd made her voice hard and insistent, but she was certain the smirk she couldn't erase gave away her amusement. He was used to her making demands... usually when in the bedroom.

He rolled his eyes, handed her the headphones, took a step back to the pad, bounced a couple of times... and then Goddamn if he didn't flick one of the rope's handles out before snapping it back to catch in his other hand, and then begin skipping rope again. She could tell he was showing off for her, his feet moving so fast it took her a moment to piece together the steps, but then he flicked the handle out and back again while changing his footwork.

To say she was damned impressed would be an understatement. She began to giggle while slowly shaking her head. He smiled broadly, tossed the rope handle from his left hand into his right without slowing, whipped it around his head and under his feet a few times, and then tossed the handle back to his left hand where he resumed his rope skipping with yet another set of blindingly fast steps she could barely follow while crossing his hands.

When the song ended, he finished with a flourish, the rope audibly whizzing through the air to one side as he quickly stepped back and forth through the loop before he flicked one of the handles out again and caught it, both grips in one hand with the rope hanging at his side like an obedient dog.

Giggling again as he panted, she clapped softly in delight before kissing him more fully than they had the first time. "I'm impressed," she said as she returned to her car and switched off the stereo. "That was most definitely dancing," she proclaimed as she closed the car's door and returned to him.

"No..." he said again, drawing the word out even longer this time, "that was foot work. Dancing is when your whole body moves." He leered at her playfully. "You should know that better than anyone."

"You ever seen tap dancers?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, but even they're moving. I'm just spinning a rope and jumping it."

"Bullshit," she growled as she led him inside. "If that's all you're doing, what was with the fancy footwork then, and that rope throwing thing?"

Josh followed her inside. His apartment was like him... unassuming but masculine. His home was smaller than hers, probably no more than seven hundred square feet, and he'd done a lot with a little. His furniture was discount store chic with simple lines and neutral colors, but like his office, he kept his space clean and tidy, with a few nick-nacks on display to give the place a little warmth. He had a moderately sized television, but no stereo, and most interestingly, no art on the walls. When she'd asked about the lack of art, he'd explained he'd only recently gotten his apartment fully furnished, and having a place to sit and sleep was more important to him than having pictures on the wall. That was when she'd realized his occasional comments about being broke all the time wasn't him being modest. Fortunately, it seemed his really tough times were finally behind him and JSI seemed to be well poised to become successful.

"Have you ever skipped rope?" he asked as he slid the door closed behind them.

"Not since I was little, no."

"Then let me tell you, it's boring as hell if you don't do something to entertain yourself."

She grinned. "Then let me tell you something... that something you were doing was anything but boring." Her smile spread. "The chick across the parking lot was certainly entertained."

"What chick?"

"The woman who lives directly across from you. I saw her watching you when I drove up."

"Really?"

She rolled her eyes again. "Yes, really. Jesus, Josh, you really are clueless sometimes." How could he not know how sexy he was?

"Hey!" he objected with a scowl, but his voice was playful.

She pulled her jacket off and laid it across a chair before tapping at her phone. After a moment, music began playing from the Bluetooth speaker she'd bought to leave with him a few weeks ago.

"Dance with me," she said, holding her hands out.

He slumped. "Are we back to that again? I'd thought you'd forgotten."

She began swaying her hips. "Never... especially now."

She waggled her fingers, calling him to her as a hard driving song played, the music speaking to her. She suppressed her giggle as he sighed heavily, tossed the rope into a chair, and began to dance with her. Gone was the high-energy dancer she'd seen only moments before, and the old Josh was back. He was trying, but he'd obviously forgotten what she'd taught him and fumbled his way along. She grimaced at him playfully and stopped.

"What are you doing?"

"Dancing... sort of. I've forgotten what you told me."

She snickered as she shook her head. "No... I mean why are you dancing like that?"

"Because..." he said with a drawl, "I don't know how to dance. You know that."

"I think you just don't want to."

"That's not it at all!"

"Then do what you were doing outside. Pretend you have the rope in your hands if you have to."

"But..."

She waved her hands beside her face, cutting him off with a smile. "I know, that's just footwork. Just do what you were doing. Trust me."

She began dancing again, and after watching her a moment, he bounced on his toes like he had before... and then he danced. He was stiff from the waist up, like traditional Irish dancers, but Jesus Christ could the man move his feet!

"That's it!" she cheered. "Keep it up!"

They danced their asses off through that song and the next one before she stopped, panting slightly. As the third song started, she melted into him, and he kissed her thoroughly. She smiled and sighed as she slowly pulled back from the kiss. He was stiff just below the waist now as well.

"I got you sweaty," he whispered.

"Don't care," she breathed. "You're going to get me sweaty again later."

"I am?" he rumbled.

She slowly caressed his manhood. "Oh... yeah..." she drawled. After watching him skip rope, and then dancing with her, he was going to be jumping more than a rope later.

He kissed her again before slowly letting her go. "I better get a shower." He paused as a mischievous grin danced across his lips. "Want to join me?"

She considered it. "I better not or dinner will be late."

"Don't care."

She smiled. "Normally I wouldn't either, but you're going to need your strength tonight."

He chuckled. "Oh, God..."

She giggled. "Go. I'll start dinner."

"Already done," he said. "The chicken and potatoes are in the oven and should be done in about..." he glanced at the clock, "ten- or fifteen-minutes."

"What kind of chicken?"

"Roasted rosemary chicken and potatoes."

"Yum," she purred. "You better hurry. I'll make us a salad."

He smiled. "See you in ten."

He stepped out of his bedroom freshly scrubbed and dressed. Hazen was standing at the counter, tearing lettuce as her hips gently swayed to the music coming from the speaker. She wasn't dancing exactly, but the way she moved never failed to speak to him. With her Samoan and Filipino linage, she was exotically beautiful. She might not be as heavy chested as her mother's enhanced breasts, or as lushly figured as her sister, but there was no question she was all woman.

With dark hair and eyes, she was petite in stature, but that was the only thing petite about her. She was a strong, confident, independent woman who knew exactly what she wanted, and wasn't afraid to fight for it. When she'd arrived in his office, he hadn't realized how subdued and weighed down by concern she'd been. Now, with the charges against Koda dropped, she'd come alive. The way she looked and moved never failed to excite him... even if she was only preparing a salad.

He'd just joined her in the kitchen when the timer began to beep, announcing that the chicken was finished. As she finished ripping lettuce, he pulled the chicken from the oven and checked it for doneness.

"Where'd you learn to jump rope?" Hazen asked as they worked.

"The Marines."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Whoever said, 'War is long moments of boredom punctuated by terror,' was clearly in the service. Some guys hit the weights, others played cards, whatever. Anything to have something to do. I started skipping rope. It was something I could do by myself for a few minutes at a time pretty much anywhere." He shrugged.

"Interesting. You're good at it."

He grinned. "I should be. I've been doing it for... what... nearly fifteen years now?"

"Do you go to the gym too?"

"Why?"

She carried the salads to the table as Josh forked potatoes and chicken onto plates. "Just curious."

"No. Lifting weights isn't really my thing. Being big wouldn't help me and could be a detriment if where I wanted to set up was tight."

"When you were still a sniper?" she asked as he brought the plates to the table.

"Yeah. If I ever got into close quarter fighting, I was already fucked. Skipping rope kept me loose, agile, and light on my feet, and helped me with my balance... much more useful skills when I was skulking around on rooftops." He grinned. "Toting around that M40A5 and the rest of the heavy shit we had to carry was enough weightlifting for me."

She smiled. "Got it. And now that you're out?"

He shrugged as they sat. "I've kept it up so I wouldn't turn into a lard-ass."

She snickered. "Babe, you're anything but a lard-ass."

As they ate, they talked about their days. Nothing exciting, but he enjoyed the conversation all the same. Hazen wasn't his first lover, but he was drawn to her like no woman before her... even with her crazy-ass family. He'd only seen them a couple of times since his first introduction, less than an hour after he'd accepted Hazen as a client, but his opinion of them hadn't changed. They were nice enough, and they were extremely grateful for what he'd done to help their son, but they were still a bit off putting with their sexually open, swinging lifestyle. He was perfectly happy with just Hazen's company and keeping her family at arm's length, and she didn't seem to mind the arrangement either.

After dinner and tidying up the kitchen, they snuggled as they listened to the music on Hazen's phone, speaking little as they enjoyed each other's closeness. She preferred music over television, and he was totally fine with that. He was a reader himself, so previous to Hazen he'd treated music as little more than background noise. He didn't own a stereo, hence her bringing the speaker, but holding her close while gently caressing her gave his hands something much more interesting to do than grasping a book.

They didn't see each other every night, and even when they did, they didn't always sleep together. They didn't have a set schedule, but saw each other every chance they had, and it wasn't often they didn't wake up in each other's arms. So far they'd only missed a few nights when Josh had to work or get up especially early the next morning, when Hazen had family obligations, and the two days when she was suffering through a violently upset stomach. The last had caused some concern because she was worried she was pregnant, despite being on the pill and not missing her period. Feeling like warmed over shit, the second day she'd dragged herself to the local drug store for a test. Though he hadn't said anything, Josh had wondered the same thing. The test had shown she wasn't pregnant, much to her relief, and they'd had a good laugh about it afterwards when he'd admitted he'd also worried she was pregnant. They'd teasingly planned an elaborate wedding, debated which night it would have been that she'd gotten pregnant, and ribbed each other about how much come he'd pumped into her since their first time together in Miami.

"Can you stay?" he whispered as their lips slowly parted, his fingers gently caressing the center of her breast.

"Yes," she murmured in reply, her hand resting lightly on his manhood.

He brought his lips to hers again for another long, slow kiss. "Ready for bed?" he asked, his voice slow and low in the way she liked, what she called his bedroom voice.

"I thought you'd never ask," she purred in reply.

He wanted her, he wanted her badly, but she seemed to be in no hurry to leave his embrace and he desperately wanted to taste her lips again. He brought his lips to hers for another long, slow caress. With a sigh, they parted but kept their lips close as she brought her hand to the side of his face.

"I want you," he whispered.

They kissed again. "And I want you," she replied, her voice as slow and soft as his.

He took the hand pressed against his cheek as he rose and gently pulled her to her feet. She melted into his chest, and he wrapped her up, holding her close and tight as their lips found each other's again.

As their kiss dissolved, she took a leisurely step back. He also took a step back while tugging her hand, but she resisted and drew her hand away from his. With a smile that promised much pleasure, she picked up her phone and the speaker she'd given him.

He smiled. When she brought her music into the bedroom, he knew he was going to have a long night of extraordinary pleasure. Hazen had something she called her 'fuck mix,' a collection of over fifty songs that she liked to fuck by. They'd tried several times to fuck the entire list, but so far had only been able to manage to last through about half the songs. The list was set to random, so neither of them knew what song would play, and they often matched their fucking to the song... slow and easy or hard and fast, depending on the selection. Most of the songs he'd never heard before they played the first time as they pleasured each other. Some compositions he recognized as having heard elsewhere, but he didn't know the song's name nor artist. There were only a few tracks where he knew the song well enough to recall the tune's name or artist, but he had to admit, all of them were great mood setters. Her mix was an eclectic blend of pop, rock, and jazz, that ranged from the seventies until now.