Possessing Morgan:
A Matter of Conviction
by Aurelia
Part8
Chapter 8
Blackness gave way to gray, except for the pulsing red wash that beat in time to her heart. The pain was truly extraordinary. Like a hungry beast it clamored for her attention, and received it with very little fight. She could barely breathe from the excruciating intensity of it, pulsing along with that red wash behind her eyelids. The pain killers had worn off and Morgan knew she was going to have to take those damned pills she had hoped to avoid, really wanting to find that fine line between tolerable pain and unconsciousness.
Slowly she opened her eyes as night became day and dark became light. The brightness scalded the back of her eyeballs and she could nearly feel her brain boiling in its own juices. Her pain threshold had reached its limit, screaming at her “Oh God, please take me now," and was seriously in danger of blowing a gasket. Passed out, however, in the counselor’s bedroom was not exactly where she wanted to be found. She looked down at the cast, feeling a tightness constricting the limb. It was nasty. Battered, bruised and swollen. Morgan thought she could see the thing pulse, angrily twitching from time to time. Her fingers were useless, restricted, swollen, and sticking out of the end of the cast like small fat raw sausages. This was not good, not good at all. She was worse than useless, she was an invalid.
Struggling to sit up, she looked around for her boots. Damn… There was no way on God’s green earth she was going to be able to tie the laces. She slumped back in the chair, a quiet depression settling over her as her mind scurried in a number of different directions, discovering a litany of problems in just day-to-day living, let alone problems that would arise at work. A crippled invalid, unloved and alone in a great big world, she thought, with her lower lip sticking out in a pout.
Oh c’mon, Morgan. Where’s that O’Callaghan fighting spirit?
Where? It was drowning in a sea of pain, confusion, and despair. She was discovering very quickly how much she relied on both her hands for even the most basic of needs.
Finally, her world slowly righted itself. There wasn’t a damned thing she could do about this so she would adapt. She had to adapt.
Sitting awkwardly, Morgan wrestled on her boots, tucking the loose laces into the tops so she wouldn’t trip. Here was another problem to add to her growing list of complications, shopping for a pair of loafers. Standing, she swayed for a moment, pain and dizziness swirling around inside her until she found her equilibrium. She looked at the bed to see the sleeping counselor, blanket long discarded, revealing the nearly naked body underneath. Tip-toeing in work boots seemed a contradiction in terms but somehow Morgan managed to do so, stopping at the foot of the bed.
The tall detective felt her heart beat double-time looking down at the sleeping woman, so innocent and yet so sensual. Despite the constant pain thumping through her, her body couldn’t help but react to the sight. She closed her eyes, allowing the pain to sweep over her, to wash away her lecherous thoughts and snap her focus back to the myriad of other problems. No, last night was a moment out of time that would not happen again. She had shamelessly taken advantage of a woman who was drunk and a bit curious. Life would move on and she would live with her dreams and memories.
“And just where do you think you’re goin’ to?” The low Southern drawl vibrated through her, alerting her to Andrea’s awakening. “Oh God, why did I yell?”
“I’ve got to go and get ready for work, as do you, Counselor.”
“Stop breathing, you’re too loud.”
“Okay, I’ll try, but I doubt I’ll succeed.”
“Ha ha.” Andrea grabbed her head. “Ohhh. Big mistake. Big, big mistake.”
“I won’t say I told you so.”
“Good. If you did that I’d have to hurt you.”
“Having problems?” Morgan just couldn’t help but smile, Andrea’s hangover taking a little of her own pain away for the moment.
Dark brown eyes traveled over her, from her mussed hair to her waist, stopping momentarily at the plaster cast. “That looks nasty.”
“Tell me about it. I can barely breathe.” Pale eyebrows met, deep furrows forming on her brow as she felt the other woman’s pain. She looked up into stress-laden green eyes, barely able to focus under the strain.
Andrea got out of bed, not hiding her state of undress. What was the point? Morgan had seen her last night. Hiding now was like closing the barn door after the horse had bolted.
“I’ve really got to get home, Andy.”
“I know, and I’m coming with you.”
“Ohhhhh nooooo…”
“Look, you can’t even tie your damned boots. What hope do you have of getting ready for work? Huh?” Pain lanced through Andrea’s fuzzy brain. “Why didn’t you stop me last night? This is killing me!”
“And would you have listened?”
The small woman tried to think and decided any warning would have been unheeded. “And your point being?”
“No point. I’m not going to lecture you. You seemed to be enjoying yourself and who am I to stop you?”
“Maybe you should have insisted. I’m dying here!”
“And I’m not? Cause if you’re complaining I’d gladly trade with you.”
Andrea hung her head. “I’m being selfish, I’m sorry. If I can get rid of this damned headache then I can concentrate on you.” She picked up the phone for room service. “Hello. It’s room four eleven. Can you send up your latest cure for a hangover? Thank you.” Gingerly, she walked over to her suitcase, each step jarring her body. Bleary eyes looked over to Morgan cradling her arm. “Come on, give me half an hour and we’ll get you home.”
“No. I have to learn to manage.”
“And you will, in time. You’re barely standing up straight now. You need help. End of argument. Now sit your butt down.” She had hardly ever used her angry voice to a friend, but this woman was being a stubborn ass, and she was not in the mood to waste time arguing when she could be getting ready for work. Andrea grabbed a glass of water and handed it to the sprawled-out Morgan. “Where are your pills?” The redhead removed the bottle from her pocket. Carefully, the blonde read the prescription. “Take two tablets every six hours. What do you want to do?”
“I gotta go to work. There’s too much going on.”
“Okay, this is what we’ll do…” She picked up the phone and ordered breakfast for two. “When the food arrives, eat. I don’t care if you feel like throwing up, you eat. If you take these on an empty stomach, you won’t be going anywhere.” She looked at Morgan to see her nod in agreement. So far, so good… “And maybe start with one tablet. It may be enough to make the pain tolerable without making you pass out. You can take two of them at night before bed.”
“I can live with that.”
“You’d better, Detective.” She paused for a moment then came and sat down next to her on the bed. “I didn’t get the chance before to say thank you for saving my life. I… I know things sort of got out of hand last night…”
“No. I’m as much to blame here…”
“No, you’re not. You were in pain and incapacitated and I took advantage of that. I am so very sorry.”
Morgan could feel her heart breaking. She had hoped that the woman really did feel something for her, that she was as miserable as she herself was. “Are you really sorry? Was last night all a…” she swallowed nervously, “…a mistake?”
Andrea looked down at her legs, sliding her hands up and down them in agitation. For the moment they were oblivious to her near-nakedness. A number of times she tried to say the word that her heart was crying out. “No.” She stood up and began pacing the floor. “This is all such a mess. I don’t know what to do.” The dull pounding in her head didn’t help her situation. This was serious stuff and she was battling the hangover from hell.
“There is nothing. Nothing is going to happen. We are not going to happen. I told you that right from the beginning.”
“How can you sit there and say that?”
“Because I have to. My God, you are getting married! I could not live with myself knowing that I broke up a wedding! If you want to be difficult just think of it as one final fling before settling down to married life. You have satisfied your curiosity now life begins with Joel.”
Andrea stood there, not sure things were quite as simple as that. For now, she would acquiesce to Morgan’s request. However, she was not sure she could adhere to it. “I’m going to go take a shower. You sit here and let in room service with breakfast. Then I’ll take you home and get you dressed.”
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea…”
“You are the most stubborn end of a west bound mule... don't argue with me. You'll lose. I am a professional when it comes to arguments. Just do what I ask, okay?” Morgan watched the small woman stand there indignant in her underwear, her fists planted on her waist and meaning a whole lot of trouble. Damn, she was so cute.
“Yes, ma’am.” A small smile graced her pink lips, finally giving her something to think about besides her injury.
“You have got to be the most infuriating, stubborn, pig-headed…” Andrea mumbled as she fussed around the room, pulling out a new suit and underwear for her day in court. Just before disappearing into the bathroom she turned on her patient, “…and if you so much as move a muscle from there, Detective, I will come after you and bodily haul you into a shower butt-assed naked. Understand me? I will strip you naked and scrub you down!” Her chest heaved with agitation, dark eyes sparking with anger. “You behave and I will be lenient and allow you some modesty.”
Wow. Morgan was glad she was not facing the counselor in court today because she was going to be a harpy. Hell, she was probably going to feel her wrath just getting ready for work.
She didn’t have to wait long for room service and she took advantage of the spare time to eat. Andrea was right. Ignoring food was just plain stupid. Taking pain medication on an empty stomach - she may as well just swallow a stick of dynamite. God knows she already felt bad enough without that added pain. Despite how she felt Morgan was surprised to see how much damage she had inflicted on the food tray. Andrea emerged from the bathroom all fresh and dressed to kill just as Morgan was enjoying a cup of hot coffee. It seemed decadent, sitting there sipping her beverage as the counselor perched her sweet ass on the edge of the bed and pulled on her pantyhose. Thirsty eyes never left those hands as they slowly brushed the smooth muscular legs with the stockings.
Morgan shook out a pain pill, mindlessly swilling it down with a mouthful of coffee as she watched the blonde continue dressing. Her eyes never left Andrea, arousal subtly mixing with pain, as the small woman moved around the room. She reached for a glass of muddy-looking liquid sitting on the breakfast tray and presented it to Andrea. “As requested…”
“Oh sweet Jesus in the morning, what the hell is that?” Andrea hoped this was some joke; that maybe room service detoured to the bathroom before delivering the concoction.
“Hey, they never promised that it would taste good. Drink it.”
“I’m having second thoughts.”
“After all the fuss you kicked up, you drink it young lady!” Morgan could only manage a smile as Andrea downed the liquid, her small pink tongue extending out her mouth at the vile taste.
“You know, you really should find an apartment. This must be costing you a fortune.”
“Tell me about it. I’m waiting for… Damn. I can’t even say his name.”
“Don’t do this to yourself.”
“It’s too late, and you know it.”
What could she say? Now even Andrea believed it. “Counselor… Andy… it can’t… it won’t happen. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I won’t deny what I feel for you, it’s a bit pointless now, but I won’t be responsible for this.” She looked up at the woman standing in front of her. “Last night… well, last night was what it was… but it can’t happen again.”
Andrea could see that Morgan was not going to give in, and she was right. Should she throw away everything on a mistake? A mistake? No, it wasn’t a mistake, it was a revelation. Now all she had to do was convince two people of the rightness of her discovery.
“One thing before we go, Andy. I want you to take your workout clothes - the tank top and shorts.”
“Why? You’re in no shape to go to the gym.”
Morgan hesitated, not wishing to scare the young woman. “I’m going to ask Henry to teach you some moves. You know, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“Well, it being a big city and all. And that car last night? I think it was trying to run you down, Andy. I think the man behind the wheel was trying to run you over....on purpose.”
“Oh, no, no, no… I walked out into the street when I shouldn’t have. I was stupid.”
With her good hand Morgan grabbed Andrea. “No, listen to me. He sped up to get to you. I barely got to you in time. That was no damned accident.”
The counselor sat down with a thud. Someone tried to kill her? Who?
Morgan watched the news sink in, her hand resting on the young woman’s thigh. “I’m sorry…” she whispered.
“Don’t be, it’s not your fault.” Andrea’s mind frantically rifled through her memories for a possible culprit. It could not have been someone here in New York. She had barely been in the city for a week. Her mind traveled back to Charleston and Columbia, searching through the catalog of cases she had handled there, visual images of men and women flipping past. A handful of remote possibilities came to mind but none of them had been serious enough to earn her a death sentence.
Morgan watched the counselor’s face, knowing very well she was racking her brain for any possible explanation. After all, that’s what the detective part of her would be doing. “Come on. Grab your workout clothes. We’re gonna make sure that if the need arises you can fight back…”
* * *
By the time they had reached her apartment Morgan was having serious doubts that she would survive the day. Andrea nearly had a fit on the way when she refused to go to the doctor, calming down only when Morgan agreed to stop in at a drugstore. Talking to the pharmacist about her medication he agreed with their decision that she could survive on one tablet if she wanted to work, but that two would be needed to get some sleep at night. He did suggest, however, that the swelling could be helped with a sling. She steadfastly refused to wear it until he told her “elevate it or go back to the hospital”. Damn, she hated being incapacitated.
The detective stood at her front door, key in hand, anxious about the counselor seeing where she lived. The woman standing next to her came from a wealthy family, very wealthy. She stayed in a nice ass hotel, probably lived in a huge ass house...mansion... with expensive furniture and expensive clothes. She blew out a breath. Now she was stepping into her world. While one half of her mind saw it as an opportunity to drive the woman away, the other half was ashamed that she didn’t have something better to offer.
“Well, you asked for this…” she muttered as she turned the key in the lock, opening the door to her life. She eyed the small woman uncertainly as she wandered around inside. How she lived her life was no one’s business but her own but somehow this woman’s opinion mattered.
“Hmmm…. Interesting… very eclectic.”
“Is that like saying ‘ya live in a dump’ with a smile on your face?”
“Not at all. It’s very… you. A lot of… antique… pieces, I see.”
“I learned a long time ago never to buy anything new while living here. It doesn’t take long before it’s stolen. So, for now, I make do with ‘eclectic’ pieces as you call them. Sounds a lot nicer than saying crap furniture.”
A gentle laugh passed those perfectly lipstick-covered lips. “Okay, Detective, we don't have a lot of time. Strip!”
“You’ve been waiting all morning to say that, haven’t you?”
“Oh, you betcha. Come on, come on, we haven’t got all day.”
“I can do this by myself you know.”
“No, you can’t. That’s why I’m here.”
Morgan snorted her displeasure. Was she so incapable of getting her own clothes off? Yes, damnit, she was. Grrrrrr. Not happy. Not happy at all.
As they moved into her bedroom Morgan felt as though they had crossed that invisible line, the one that separated her from the rest of the world. This was her inner sanctum, a place that had been hers and hers alone. No one else had stepped in here since... well, for several years. It felt strange to have Andrea in a place so personal as this private space. She stood back against the wall as the blonde wandered around, touching small trinkets as she studied the things that so identified Morgan as a person.
Eyes dark as a deep, deep well looked at her, expressing in a glance all that needed to be said. In Andrea’s eyes she had passed the test. “Let’s get you ready for work,” she whispered, and moved in, reaching for the button on her pants. Morgan shifted nervously. “Don’t be a baby, Morgan. You don’t have time to be modest. Let me just get on with this.”
She closed her eyes. Morgan just couldn’t watch this. She was so embarrassed at being undressed like a two year-old, her mind resisting the urge to wrestle the counselor’s hands off her.
Andrea made short work of the tall woman’s clothes, surprised to see her standing there, with her pants around her ankles, in a very practical white bra and a pair of those new girly boxer shorts....boy shorts, she thought they were called. She wasn’t sure what she was going to find under the pants and shirt but somehow boxer shorts wasn’t it. Her eyes drifted to the pale abdomen on display, not obviously muscled that she could see, but had a sleekness about it that told her that Morgan was an active woman. The porcelain skin had a veil of the palest orange which, on closer inspection, were freckles. Awww, damn! She was desperate to find out if those freckles were everywhere.
The blonde felt herself flush with excitement at the thought, confirming in her mind that what she had felt last night was no fluke. Morgan was doing something to her that no one else, man or woman, had done. She had made her feel. Was it lust? Oh God. Love? Oh God. She wasn’t sure of anything, but the gentle fluttering in her stomach sure as hell made her feel something.
Andrea’s nose twitched. <Sniff, sniff*> "I hate to tell you this pal, but you’ve got to have a shower. How do you want to do this?” Grinning, Andrea whipped off her coat in one swift motion before reaching for the buttons on her blouse.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Someone’s got to scrub your back.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” Morgan sat on the bed, muttering under her breath when the boots refused to give way. Andrea slapped her hand away, pulling off the offending footwear before reaching for her pants. Morgan pointed to the mess of clothes in the corner and the counselor threw the dirty clothes on the slowly growing pile. A blonde eyebrow rose and Morgan just shrugged. “So, sue me.”
“I can do that. I’m a lawyer you know.”
“Very funny. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I assume laundry day must be about due then.”
“Tonight, in fact.”
“I’ll give you a hand, you know, since you're short one.” She was rewarded with a wry look from the seated woman.
“You are not coming back again.”
“Oh, yes the hell I will. Damnit, Morgan! What is the matter with you?”
“Look, I really appreciate your help in getting me ready for work but this morning is it.”
“And how are you going to wash your hair? Put on your bra? Tie up your shoelaces? Good God, get over yourself will ya! You can’t live without me.”
“Yes I can, damn you!” she yelled. “I have done very well by myself up till now. I don't need anyone's help! I don’t need your help! ” By the look on Andrea’s face she could not have been more shocked than if she had slapped her. “Look… ah… I… I’m sorry. I can manage by myself.”
Andrea said nothing, disappearing into the kitchen to return with a plastic bag. Without a word, she slipped the bag over the cast, fixing it in place with a rubber band. Finally, she pushed Morgan through the door to the bathroom, closing the door quietly.
Crap… crap… crap. She had done worse than almost making love to her last night. She had pushed her away and now she had to pay the price. This was what you wanted, right? So why the hell did she feel egg-sucking lousy?
Without thought, Morgan removed her underwear and struggled into the shower. The hot stream of water washed away the sweat, the grime and the smell, but it left behind her pain, both in her wrist and her heart.
Despite all her protests to the contrary, some small piece of her so desperately wanted someone to look after her, to love her… to commit to her. She had been alone for so long she didn’t know how to love any more. And yet Andrea had found a way in, wriggling around inside her and burrowing deeper and deeper until trying to dislodge her would kill the tall detective.
She knew only too well how trusting someone that much can go wrong in a heartbeat. Someone she and her father had trusted implicitly had betrayed them, had taken their love and friendship and used it against them. It’s not so easy to allow that to happen again, but somehow Morgan suspected any influence she had on that decision was long past. She was committed to a course of action that was rapidly spiraling out of control.
Dressed in only a towel, Morgan added the underwear to the laundry pile on the floor. After manhandling the drawer open she found new ones. Andrea was right. She looked at the bra and knew there was no way she was going to be able to get it on by herself. But letting this woman help her dress day and night was seriously begging for trouble. Things were changing whether she liked it or not, and they were coming together in spite of her best efforts to stay away. She only hoped her heart survived the fall…
Morgan took a deep breath as she reached for the doorknob, bracing herself for the hurt she would see in those eyes. She was not ready to face the counselor just yet, especially after the verbal assault she had given the woman, but she knew she had no choice. She found Andrea sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee, studying the contents of the mug she was holding. She cleared her throat, waiting for those eyes to find her. “All done,” she whispered.
Andrea stood, washing the mug and placing it in the sink. She brushed by the taller woman, heading towards the bedroom, expecting Morgan to follow. “What do you want to wear?” Her voice was flat and emotionless, and tore right through the detective’s heart. Once the work clothes were laid out, Andrea reached for the shorts, kneeling down and allowing Morgan to step into them. She turned her back as the towel gave way and the redhead shimmied the underpants into place.
A large hand rested lightly on Andrea’s shoulder, touching her through the silk blouse. “All done.” Morgan’s voice was low and sad. “I think I need help.”
“No shit,” Andrea mumbled, snatching away the offered bra and turning to face the one who had gutted her with those harsh words. Holy Mother of God… There Morgan stood in nothing but her boxer shorts, her body exuding a fiery glow as her freckles danced across pale skin. Andrea tried to keep eye contact, she really did, but her mind followed the track her eyes were traveling. She had to look. Those breasts were, without doubt, the most beautiful pair she had ever seen, sending a spike of envy through her. That fluttering in her stomach burst to life, growling in response to the sight. Her hands clenched with effort at her sides, her body begging for permission to touch. No, she rejected you… her mind screamed, but her body was not listening, instead it was tuning into the signals being emitted by the body opposite her.
Morgan had nowhere to go. She was boxed in and being prowled by this woman intent on having her. Standing there half-naked was not helping her situation, so she turned around, facing away. Apparently that was worse because a low moan escaped the counselor, sending an answering smile across Morgan’s lips. She placed her hand behind her back, asking for the bra. “Here, gimme that.” Wrestling it in place, Morgan waited for small fingers to find the clasp and attach it. She sighed, hoping that things would be fine now, not expecting a set of lips to attach themselves to her skin, sliding across her back, licking up the dampness left over from the shower. “Oh God,” she whispered. “Please, don’t start this.”
“I’m sorry. You’re standing there half naked and you expect me to behave? I don’t think so.” Andrea breathed in deeply, the freshly washed skin tickling her memory of the scent she had barely experienced the night before. As she had expected it was intoxicating, and drew her in despite her anger. Andrea shook her head, trying to clear it. Standing so close to Morgan was proving to be very hard to resist indeed.
“We’ve got to get to work.” Morgan sat on the bed, extending out her legs for Andrea to slide up her pants. While the smaller woman was on the floor, she put on the detective’s socks and shoes, tying the laces with a flourish. The redhead stood, yanking at the pants but had her hands smacked away as smaller, stronger hands grabbed hold of the waistband and tugged, fingers gently brushing Morgan’s boxers as the pants were hitched over her hips. She closed her eyes and swallowed loudly. There was that mixture of pain and pleasure again, making her heart thump erratically as Andrea finished dressing her.
Andrea grabbed a brush and attacked Morgan’s hair, gently undoing the braid before giving it a thorough brushing. “So beautiful…” she whispered. “This is going to be a problem. Why don’t you just get it cut? It’ll make life a lot easier.”
“No.”
“But Morgan…”
“I saidno.” Why was she vainly trying to hold onto this last vestige of her old life? She had always had this mass of vibrant russet hair, even as a small child, and to lose it now was just too much to handle.
“Fine.” Andrea harrumphed at the taller woman’s stubbornness. “But no complaints, you got me?” Not that she was complaining as she braided the gorgeous red hair, watching the red strands slip through her pale fingers. This was such an intimate act to touch her hair this way, and she was unable to stop herself from continuing to touch her long after the hair had been secured.
Morgan slumped to the mattress, dragging the counselor with her. “This is not going to work.”
“I know. I can’t keep my hands to myself, but there is no way I am going to abandon you like this.”
Morgan reached across and took Andrea’s hand in her own. “I’ve got to learn to take care of myself one way or the other.”
“Not while I’m around, you don’t.” Andrea thought for a moment. “Give me a couple of days to sort something out for you. In the meantime, I’m moving in here to take care of you.”
“Oh no…”
“Don’t argue, alright, or I’ll just move in here with you permanently.” Had she realized what she had just said? Of course she didn’t mean it, did she? Frantic thoughts flew around in her head at the possibilities. “We’ll start with your hair. Come back to the hotel and we’ll wash it after work. I’ll grab some clothes for tomorrow and we’ll come back here and get you settled in.”
“This is ridiculous, Andy. This is a crap apartment, even by my standards. I can’t let you stay in this dump.”
“Well, pack up then honey. You’re staying with me at the hotel. At least until we can establish an acceptable routine for you to manage on your own.”
“And, pray tell, where am I going to sleep?”
“My bed?” The disapproving stare answered her question. “I’ll see if I can get you another room.”
“No, I can’t let you do that, Counselor. I will manage.”
“Damnit woman, you are the most stubborn piece of work…” Andrea shoved Morgan back so that she collapsed on the bed, the smaller woman rolling over on top of her and pinning her to the mattress. “Look at you! You are helpless. Stop all this independent macho shit and just admit it! You need my help.”
“I don’t need anyone’s help. I’ve done fine so far…” Morgan struggled, really struggled, but without that second hand Andrea had her rolling around like a turtle on its back. Both of them knew it was more than just a matter of a physical handicap, it was an emotional one as well. Morgan had not let anyone come close to her for a long, long time, and the bottom line here was a matter of trust.
“Why on earth do you want to stay here?” Morgan could hear the defeat in her own voice.
“Because it’s where you live.”
“But…”
“Morgan, it’s neat and clean… well, except for that…” She pointed to the pile of dirty laundry. “… but that will be fixed tonight. I have no problem staying here, Detective. I might be rich but I’m not some snob bitch. This is where you live and where you are most comfortable. So just put all those thoughts out of your pretty head. Got it?”
“But…”
“Stop it! The decision is made, now just live with it. Okay, Detective, I believe we are now officially late for work. Come on.” Andrea stood, reaching down to help the tall woman to her feet. “Let’s get moving. I know those work,” she pointed to Morgan’s impossibly long legs.
Morgan lay for a moment before grabbing Andrea’s hand. For better or worse, she was bound to this woman and whatever help she offered.
Feedback is always appreciated. You can contact me at aurelia_fan@yahoo.com.au