by SarAdora ~~~
Disclaimer: This story is fan fiction. It involves characters on the former television show JAG. Those characters are the legal property of Bellisarius Productions. Their use in my original story involving them is posted for entertainment purposes only - not for profit - and is not intended as infringement on the Bellisarius copyright.
Note: This story has NO redeeming characteristics. There is no plot. It is nothing more than unadulterated sex. I wrote this quite a few years ago when JAG was still airing new episodes and Cowboy was at sea. I was... hmmm... missing him.
Falls Church, Virginia
The bullpen was a flurry of activity for a sunny Saturday afternoon. A JAG charity function, Christmas in July, was for the benefit of the children's wing at Bethesda Naval Hospital. To mark the special occasion, the Admiral's yeoman had hung a branch of mistletoe over the door marked 'Private.' AJ promised to give each little girl who passed under it a peck on the cheek. Currently, CIA Special Agent Clayton Webb was standing under it, looking grim.
"Forget it, Webb." AJ looked at the special agent and grimaced. "I don't think I could kiss you if my life depended on it. Unless..." he chuckled, "you were looking for a tap on the nose."
"Stuff it, AJ. I'm only here to see the SecNav." With a constant eye on his watch, the dapper man paced back and forth under the mistletoe. Out of the corner of his eye, he surreptitiously caught the activity in the bullpen, amazed that JAG ops went in for this sort of thing. Where the hell is the SecNav? I don't have all day, he thought somewhat exasperated that he was at JAG HQ on a Saturday.
Regardless, when he exited the elevator, he had noted the artfully decorated Christmas trees in the corridor and the wreaths hanging in strategic places. The pots of bright red poinsettias - out of season - surprised him. Probably shipped in from California.
With an inscrutable expression, Webb nodded to the Gunny as the marine tried to skirt around him to get into the admiral's office. With his arms overloaded with shopping bags and toys, Gunny barely nodded back.
"What? You're not going to kiss me, either?" Webb's posture and indignant tone of voice gave Gunny pause to look at him.
"No sir. I'm not. You're not my type."
Webb smirked. Not your type? You got that right, Gunny! Not even on my worst day.
He heard AJ tell the marine to see if Lieutenant Singer was available to help him stuff the stockings and watched the man stiffen slightly at the order. What's that all about?
Lieutenant Lauren Singer was delighted to help with the stockings. It wasn't that she loved Christmas. She just loved being in charge of it today. She had already supervised the juice and cookie table, rearranging all the platters to suit herself. Then she had the marine guards move each and every potted plant to different areas of the bullpen, corridors, courtrooms and conference room - several times over - until she was satisfied with their placement. After following her orders for over an hour, there wasn't one of them who wouldn't have jumped at the chance to exchange this day with her for a week of duty in Bosnia.
The Christmas trees were left untouched, however, because the Admiral had put Lt. Harriet Sims in charge of them. Everyone knew he had a soft spot for the sweet Lieutenant and even Lt. Singer wasn't going to purposefully incur her C.O.'s wrath. She generally avoided Lt. Sims at all costs; just being around the perky blonde gave her too much of a sugar load.
When Lauren spied the mistletoe over the Admiral's door as she passed under it, she paused only a second to reach up and kiss Clayton Webb on the cheek. She proceeded into the Admiral's office without so much as greeting the special agent.
Webb was startled and looked closely at the thin little blonde for the first time. Mmmm, wonder if there are possibilities under that particular uniform? He appraised her figure and gave it serious consideration.
Lauren directed Gunny to empty all the shopping bags so she could inventory their contents. He bent over to spread them out so she could survey the array. Lauren stood behind him out of his way and out of the corner of her eye, took notice of Gunny's rear end. Hmmm, nice ass. How come I never noticed that before? She also bent down to start grouping the toys she wanted to use first.
Webb watched the Lieutenant out of the corner of his eye and as soon as Lauren bent over, his eyes were riveted to her backside. Webb was a connoisseur. He also liked to inventory... things. He tugged at the bottom of his vest, flicked an imaginary piece of lint off a sleeve, stood a little straighter and slipped his hands into his pockets. He gave her bottom his undivided attention. Nice round cheeks - not too round, looks firm - probably works out - legs are ok - small waist. I like small waists. Shorter than me - that's good. That's enough. I'm sold.
"Lieutenant?" Webb decided to get the ball rolling in his direction. He carefully sidestepped around Gunny and moved closer to her. "Looks like you could use a little help with those toys."
"Thank you, Mr. Webb. That's... thoughtful of you." She looked at the well-dressed spy with a great deal of interest as well as an experienced and discerning eye. He always wore three-piece suits and she liked men in vests. Mmmm, a vest. I do like vests, especially when... She favored him with a slight smile and with no conscience at all, slowly and purposefully ran her tongue over her top lip.
Webb took a step back, slightly startled by her intense scrutiny. Why do I suddenly feel like a specimen on a glass slide under her microscope?
Lauren realized she had just made him uneasy and didn't want to scare him off. She flashed a warmer more inviting smile in his direction.
Correction, he thought. I do believe I am the sweetest choice currently being offered on her dessert tray! Yes!
"Excuse me, Lieutenant. Since Mr. Webb is helping you, will you be needing me any longer?" Gunny asked.
Lauren handed Webb the toys she had chosen for one of the stockings. "I'm not sure Gunny, so just stay close by for a few minutes."
She gave him a cursory glance as if making sure he was still there. Then, deciding he needed to be where she told him to be, she handed him several toys for another stocking. Best looking jarhead I've seen since that Marine General I deposed for the Matheson case my last year of law school. Talk about a hunk. Too bad he wouldn't let me fuck him. Under the pretense of selecting more toys, she watched Gunny stoop down to retie a shoelace. Hmmm, speaking of fucking a marine...
The three of them finally got the stockings filled. "Well, that task is accomplished, Lieutenant," Webb smiled at her with all the charm he could muster knowing full well the Admiral was witnessing his little performance. "Who would have thought that stuffing stockings could be..." a prelude to sex.... He slyly smiled at her.
You can stuff my stocking any time. She licked her lips, observed his slightly flushed face. "Mmmm," she agreed and nodded.
"I...realize this is short notice, but..." Webb paused momentarily. He was never hesitant around women and while this woman was desirable, he knew damn well that she was also a barracuda. Hell! I like fish. He automatically fingered his tie as if it was a CIA regulation and precursor to conversation. Leaning closer, he spoke softly. "Can I interest you in dinner this evening?"
"Yes," she smiled and licking her lips, she quickly made a visual assessment of his person as if appraising an item she might bid on. "Then afterwards," she added huskily. "Perhaps, I can interest you in dessert?"
"Perhaps, you can," he smiled back.
Having heard that the SecNav was crossing the bullpen, AJ told Singer and Gunny that they were dismissed.
"Webb!" AJ barked as he watched the agent follow Lauren out of the office. Webb saw the SecNav, finally remembered why he had come to JAG on a Saturday, turned 180 degrees and followed him back into AJ's office.
Lauren Singer's Apartment
Falls Church, Virginia
Lauren looked Webb up and down and up again as he stood in the doorway of her apartment. Oh yes! He'll do very nicely. She licked her lips in delicious anticipation and smiled at him.
Nervously, the spy smiled back while he quickly took in her attire. Her long blonde hair framed her face and he was eager to touch its silkiness. Her black floor-length dress was tasteful and showed just enough cleavage; one leg was visible through the slit in the side almost all the way up to her...
"Good evening, Lieutenant, uh Lauren. You're looking lovely this evening." He saw her run her tongue over her lips and relaxing a little, he mimicked the gesture, licking his own.
"Come in, Mr. Webb. Let me take your jacket."
"Call me Clay. My jacket? I thought we were going to eat first. I mean..."
"I know what you meant and yes, *you're* going to eat first." She pulled him into her apartment and kicked the door shut. Placing her arms on his chest, she moved them up under his jacket, pulled it off his shoulders, and reached for his mouth. "I want you *now.* Do you want me?"
"Y...yes, I do," he normally erudite spy stuttered.
"I'm yours, Mr. Webb. And forget about the Clayton bit. I like Webb better." Lauren pulled him over to the oversized couch and pushed him onto it with a determined hand. Standing in front of him, she smiled at the handsome man.
Suddenly, the hair stood up on Webb's neck. Shit! Why do I suddenly feel like a fly in a spider's web?
She placed a high-heeled foot on his crotch.
"Take it off, Mr. Webb."
Quickly, he slipped her shoe off, leaving her stocking clad foot in place. Clayton Webb, not only a CIA spy but a direct descendant of Beau Brummel and a fastidious fashionista as well, didn't want that shoe on his neatly pressed pants. And where the hell did my jacket end up? Cripes! A two-thousand dollar suit!
She pulled the floor-length skirt of her gown higher on her leg giving him a glimpse of thigh covered by a sheer black silk stocking. A drop of saliva inched its way out of the corner of his mouth. But not one to pass on such a sweet opportunity, he sat up and slowly slid both hands up her leg. He was in his element now.
"Feel good, Lieutenant Lauren?" Two can play this name game. His voice was suddenly raw and his mouth felt dry. He knew the itch in his groin was going to be unbearable very quickly and so he began the one dance that could ease that ache.
His fingers made little circles on her ankle and then bigger circles as they tiptoed up her calf, slid halfway down and tiptoed up again. He paused to feather stroke the back of her knee and just when he reached the middle of her thigh, he stopped.
"Don't stop," she ordered. "Don't stop now or I will make you regret it."
Webb smiled. He loved threats, especially during sex. And that's what this was - plain, unadulterated - no kind of commitment - just the way he liked it - sex - raw sex with a barracuda.
He moved a hand to her crotch and was surprised she wasn't wearing panties. Oh yeah! the arrogant spy smiled. She wants me bad. He was not at all surprised to find her curls already damp. She thinks she's going to order me around like she does all the little sailor boys at JAG. Just the thought made him chuckle softly. Grabbing a handful of curls, he tugged gently - but not too gently - while his other hand stroked her inner thigh and then circled around the mouth of her sex, teasing, stroking, and teasing some more.
Lauren almost lost her balance but he quickly grabbed her butt pulling her to him. He slid down the couch until only his upper back rested on the cushions and pushing her dress out of his way, pulled her to his mouth, and placed his lips at her clit.
Before she knew what happened, Lauren was straddling his face and moaning louder than a decent, law abiding, Naval officer should. "Oh God, oh God, oh God," she moaned grinding her hips on his mouth. "Oh my God!" She threw her head back and felt the shivers ice skate down her back.
He sucked hard, then nipped, then sucked hard again. Lauren was lost. It was pain; it was pleasure; it was unlike any feeling she had ever known and she wanted more. She thought she knew what cunnilingus was all about. She didn't know squat. *This* was what it was all about. She took several uneven breaths and finally asked, "Did they teach you how to do this in spy school?"
Webb grinned and momentarily came up for air. "No, not in spy school," he chuckled. "I learned it during my internship years abroad."
"Lucky teachers," she moaned and fell over the top of the couch as she climaxed.
Webb slid out from under her, turned her over and while she tried to regain her breath, he methodically removed the rest of her clothing. He fanned her long blonde hair away from her face, and then spread her legs. Studying her body with an experienced eye, he clucked his tongue and dropped her stockings over her crotch. The woman has no modesty at all.
He removed his shoes and socks and unbuttoned his vest while he roamed around the apartment. Finding his jacket, he noted the wrinkles, tried to shake them out and hung it on the back of a chair. Wandering into the kitchen, he discovered a chilled bottle of wine and two goblets. Returning to the living room, he found her sitting up with her legs crossed.
"Come here," she invited. "My turn for appetizers."
"Would you like a little wine with it?"
He opened the bottle, poured a little into each glass and handed her one. She drank it all in one long swallow.
"Would you like some more?" He politely offered.
"Yes." She relieved him of the bottle, lifted it to her lips and drank.
With her face just a little flushed, Lauren reached for him. Webb obliged her by sitting on the couch next to her. When it looked like she was going to undress him, he sat back and watched.
Lauren was in a hurry. She wanted him and she didn't waste any time getting his clothes off. She yanked his shirt out of his pants, removed his cufflinks, unbuttoned a couple of buttons and pulled it and his T-shirt over his head.
"Stand up a minute," she ordered. He did. She unbuckled his belt, yanked his zipper down and removed his slacks.
So much for finesse and romance, he thought. "You want me, don't you?" A wicked grin lit his face.