Title: Her Man of Action
Author: TRE
Rating: NC17
Classification: LGM, Smut, Post Ep Memento Mori
Spoilers: Memento Mori
Archive: Gossamer or ask
Feedback: frohicke@swbell.net
Website: http://www.geocities.com/trethephile/
Disclaimer: Not mine. 
Summary:  Frohike gets some action. 
                  Like I said.  Smut.
"I'm on my way over."

Karen Purcell flipped her wrist over to look at her watch.  It was
10:30, too late for a social call.  "Now?"

"Now."

The call disconnected and she got up from her bed where she'd been
reading.  She raced through her shower and makeup job, finally
pulling on a navy skirt and top.  She made a quick check on her daughter, telling her she had to run an errand.  Her daughter waved a hand at her, engrossed in the internet.

Karen Purcell was the divorced mother of two teenage children.  She was the average American single mom.

One night, four years ago, her car had refused to start.  At the time she was managing the second shift, and everyone had left ahead of her.  She waited in her car.  Someone from the day shift would be along in an hour or so, and she'd just have to hit them for a ride home.  She was angry but counting her blessings that her children, David and Katy, were on summer vacation and staying with their father in St. Louis.  It wasn't as though she had to get home to relieve the baby-sitter.

She'd started at the sight of blinding headlights in her rearview mirror.  Reaching into her purse she wrapped her fingers around a small container of mace.  It had been unnecessary.  The short stocky man who tapped on her window looked seedy, but he was smiling and he offered to take a look at her car.  "You stay inside and keep the doors locked."  He yelled through the window.  She popped the hood and waited nervously. 

After poking about under the hood, the man came around and asked her
to try to start the car.  When the ignition only made a clicking noise rather than turning the engine over, he shook his head.  "It's the alternator.  You'll have to get a new one."

She'd been sure that having him give her a ride home would be the biggest mistake of her life.   But he'd been so nice and funny that her wariness subsided. 

He introduced himself as Melvin Frohike, a newspaper writer. He'd chatted all the way to her house, telling her more than she wanted to know about alternators and bad battery cells.  She had him drop her off two doors from her house.  She wasn't stupid enough to give him her exact address.

The next morning, she'd been shocked to find her car sitting in her driveway.  Melvin was leaning against it, smiling.  "Hey, I picked up a new alternator and battery for you and replaced them."  He tossed her the keys.

She wanted to pay him for his labor, or at least the parts, but he wouldn't hear of it.  Finally, he'd agreed to let her take him out to dinner.

It felt funny, at first, having dinner with an intelligent adult, scanning the wine list instead of the children's menu.  Melvin wasn't a handsome man in any ordinary sense, but he was interesting and sincere. When the meal was consumed and the bill was paid, Karen found herself wishing that the evening would continue.  She had to bend her knees a bit when Melvin held her coat for her.  She hoped she managed the maneuver without making him feel awkward.

He drove her home.  She asked him in.  He accepted. She wanted it, he
wanted it, and their progress to the bedroom was swift.  Thank goodness
for the wine.

They'd practically stayed in bed the remainder of that week, leaving
only to go to work.  Karen hadn't had sex since her divorce, and she
felt giddy with freedom.  No kids, no schedule.  On Monday she bought a
box of condoms on her way home, ribbed, like the ones Melvin had used.
That Sunday, before driving to the airport to pick up her kids, she hid
what was left under the bathroom sink, way behind the bottle of sunscreen she never remembered to apply.

Melvin was a wonderful man.  He was older than her by a good ten years,
but it wasn't a problem.  Karen wasn't looking for another husband.
She'd had twelve years of that and wasn't in a hurry to go back.  When her children returned from St.. Louis, Melvin said his good-byes.  Then he would suddenly appear about once a month, take her to dinner or a movie. They didn't always end up in bed. Sometimes he'd hang around the
house, watching football and having a beer.  Other times she wouldn't
see him at all, but the grass would be cut and the fence would be fixed and she knew David wasn't responsible.

Over time, her son learned to like him. When David had turned sixteen,
Karen had taken him to buy his first car.  The greasy salesman had
called her "Mom" and winked conspiratorially as he tried to sell them an
overpriced headache.

"Another guy's interested, coming back this afternoon to close the deal," the salesman said.  "I'll give you two a minute to talk it over."

"Mom, don't blow this for me!" David had said accusingly.

Karen called Melvin and he showed up, slapped David on the back, and
hustled them out of the dealership.  They'd ended up at a used car lot
on the other side of the town.  David happily got a newer car at a lower
price.

Her daughter, Katy, had taken to Melvin instantly.  She'd been nine
when Karen first started seeing him, and the little girl's approval
became obvious when she cut the fingers off her red knitted gloves and
insisted on wearing them in the house.

Last year, when Katy had her appendix removed.  Melvin had come to the hospital with a huge bouquet of flowers. Katy had smiled and let him tease her about her new scar.  No matter how Karen explained it, Katy didn't understand why Karen didn't marry Melvin.

Sometimes he would call late at night and she'd meet him outside on the porch.  They'd neck like teenagers, both of them knowing they couldn't go in the house, not with her kids home.  And in the summer or on holidays when the kids were gone, he'd hang around the house, upgrading her home security and nagging her about regular oil changes.

Recently his visits had been less frequent.  She knew his job took up
most of his time, so she tried not to worry when he didn't call.

Tonight was different. After his abrupt phone call and her hurry to dress, Karen cooled her heels on the porch.  She could tell something was up as soon as she got into his car, an older model Oldsmobile. He was dressed from head to foot in black clothing. His hair was sticking up and his eyes
were flashing.  He didn't say a word as she got in the car, only backed
it out of the driveway.

Melvin drove fast.  His jaw was clenched and she got the feeling something terrible had happened.  She said nothing; she knew Melvin would talk when he was ready.

It began to rain hard, coming down in torrents and sheeting against the
windows of the car.  Melvin drove through the deserted streets of the business district, past shuttered storefronts. He finally parked in an alley
off a side street, between a TV repair shop and a produce market.  As soon as he cut the engine, he looked across the interior of the car at Karen.  "I know you think I'm crazy."

"Never," she insisted, smiling.

Melvin sighed deeply.  "It's been a long night.  It seems like it should be a lot later than it is."  Mindlessly, he traced the stitching around the leather steering wheel with his fingertips.  He was wearing his gloves, the leather ones with the fingertips cut out.

Karen waited, wondering what he'd been up to.  As always she gave him
her undivided attention, knowing that he needed a sounding board that
didn't talk back.  He hadn't had to tell her that he was tired.  Lines of weariness and worry were etched at the sides of his mouth and around his eyes.

"We have a friend, one of our friends from the FBI.  Today we found out
that she has cancer, and though we tried, we can't find a way to save
her."  He looked out the windshield at the water sluicing down the glass.

"I'm sorry."  She didn't know what to say.  He and the men he worked with thought they could do something about cancer, but it didn't make any sense to her, even though she understood his work went way beyond writing for a newspaper.  She'd met his partners, and together they were an unlikely team.  She knew less about them, than Melvin, but she knew he trusted them and it was enough for her.

It became very close and still within the car while the rain continued to beat against the roof and lash at the windows.  He pulled off his gloves with savage impatience and reached across the car to lay his hand flat on her chest, his thumb and little finger stretching from collarbone to collarbone.
Karen's eyes closed.  She swayed slightly towards him and when she
opened her eyes again, he was much nearer.  He had moved to the center of the bench seat and his eyes were busy scanning her face.

His hand slid up her throat and curled around the back of her neck.
When his lips touched hers, sensation consumed her.  They kissed madly
while their hands battled to gain ground. His moved down her chest, over the cotton material, then up again to knead her breasts through the fabric.

Karen caressed his hair, his cheeks, the back of his neck.  She removed
his glasses and set them on the dashboard, then pulled him against her
as she fell back into the corner of the seat.

He unbuttoned her blouse with deft fingers and pushed aside the edges.
The water rushing down the window combined with the streetlights created
strange shadows across her breasts, which were swelling out of her bra.

He bent his head and kissed the full curve, then the dark center. Through the lace, his tongue flicked roughly, hungrily.

"Melvin," she moaned, as the sensation moved from her breast throughout
the rest of her body.  "Melvin, now, I want you.  I need you."  She understood the depth of his need tonight.  There was no mistaking the hunger in his kisses and caresses, no way to misread his urgent plea for comfort.

Now, clumsy, he freed himself from his black cargo pants and carried her
hand down.  Her fingers encircled the hard length of his penis.  As she
caressed the tip with the pad of her thumb, he buried his face between her breasts and gasped snatches of erotic words.  He explained in detail her that he wanted to fuck her and how he wanted to go about it.

His hands slipped beneath her narrow skirt.  She helped him get her panties off.  Their lips met in a frantic, passion-driven kiss while they sought a workable position within the cramped front seat.

"Damn!" he cursed.  His voice sounded dry and raw.

Suddenly he sat up and pulled her over his lap.  Holding her bottom
between his large hands beneath her skirt, he positioned her above his
erection.  She moved down, impaling herself.  Melvin groaned into her neck as she moved again and again sliding him further, deeper within her.

Their lips sought and found each other and their tongues rubbed together wetly.  Melvin squeezed her ass and stroked her thighs, feeling her muscles clench and quiver at the unaccustomed position.  She held onto the back of the seat and used her knees for elevation that teasingly threatened to release his cock before sinking down onto it again.  She rode
him, milked him.

"Oh God, oh Karen," he groaned. He nuzzled his head against her
breast until he had worked it free of her bra cup.  He laved the taut
nipple with his tongue, then took it into his mouth. His other hand was between her thighs stroking her clit with his thumb.

Karen's breathing became choppy and loud.  She bent her head over his
shoulder and bit his earlobe. 

Her vaginal muscles tensed around the hardness within her and her
clitoris grinded against Melvin's thumb.  With a shudder she found her
release, a very long, very wet climax that grew wetter as Melvin's
fluids mingled with hers.  Karen's knees shook, and she gripped the seat
back tighter.

They didn't move for minutes.  Finally with rubbery limbs she eased
herself off his lap and retrieved her panties from the floorboard.
Wordlessly, Melvin passed her a handkerchief.

"Thank you," she said, accepting it gratefully.

He nodded and looked down as he wrestled his way back into his black
pants.

Once she had straightened her own clothing, Karen flipped down the sun
visor and looked with dismay at her reflection in the mirror.  Her
shoulder length hair had been ravaged.  She clicked her tongue against her teeth and did her best to tame it.

Melvin reached out and grasped her shoulder, pulling her back against
him.  He lips caressed the outer edge of her ear.  "I really just wanted
to talk."

Karen barked out a laugh and turned toward him, kissing him lightly.
"True or not, I'm glad you did call.  I've missed you."

He kissed her back, running his fingers over her hair, "I've missed you
too."

The rain had eased up, leaving the streets wet and glaring.  Melvin
suddenly spied a patrol car in the rearview mirror, as it crept by on the street.  Melvin scooted over and turned the ignition.

When they arrived back at her house, Karen asked if he still wanted to
talk over coffee.

Melvin shook his head, "I've kept you up late enough.  There's nothing
we can do about Scully"

Karen nodded. "I'll keep your friends in my prayers."

He kissed her roughly before she got out of the car.  She would have lingered on the porch a minute, to savor the rain-washed air, but she knew he would wait until she was safely inside.  As she closed the door behind her, she heard him drive away. 

Until next time.



END