Out with the Old

By Anna Neelis, Patricia Wilson and Kristine Zensky

December 1976

Cinnamon had discovered more on her summer travels than just the state of the spy network Jim maintained.  She realized that if she were going back in ‘the game’ she had to determine how deeply she was willing to go. While her trips with Ian Blaine relied on her ability to adopt various cover identities, a deceit punishable in every country she toured, she had never felt she was in mortal danger. 

But the reality of the IMF was that agents’ lives were very often in danger.  As a mother, she needed to acknowledge her responsibility to Jennifer. Barney had recently upgraded all her home security systems.  She knew the house was as safe as could be with its completely state of the art Collier Fortress System. 

But a real return to active status meant a return to the field.  Would that be fair to Jennifer? Agent recruitment, training, and development remained important work.  She knew the coaching she shared saved lives.  But it was also administratively intensive.  She kept on top of the detail, but through a sense of pride rather than true desire.  Testing herself again in the exciting arena of fieldwork still appealed.  There wasn’t an easy solution.

There was one aspect of working at HQ that she did like: access to high level information and the clearance to request it.   Cinnamon had seen a series of IMF reports that worried her.  If the developing patterns proved true, there was an extremely effective enemy agent up for hire as a cold-hearted assassin.  That alone was distressing but sadly not unexpected. What made Cinnamon shudder was his methodology: the assassin seemed to be modeling himself on one of her former adversaries.  Specific intelligence was thin on the ground, but Cinnamon eagerly digested any morsel.  It had been playing on her mind all autumn, but she tried to keep it in perspective until she knew more specific facts.

Cinnamon drew the curtain to diffuse the hot sunlight streaming into the kitchen.  She mulled the incongruity of sunshine, eighty-degree temperatures and Christmas decorations adorning the house.  Jennifer’s artwork on the cabinets and refrigerator showcased a nearly seven year-old’s fascination with snow.  Jennifer despaired of not having a white Christmas, not understanding how unlikely that would be in Los Angeles.  Rollin, however, had more snow than he needed on location in Prague.  Cinnamon felt badly for him.  

The production was behind schedule and, as a result, over budget.  Rollin was rarely one to appear nervous, but she could tell he felt the weight of his directing debut dragging his shoulders down.  Initially, he had been so enthused about everything.  It was a great opportunity to direct the film version of a play he had staged last year.  He was buoyant on his departure in late September.

Once filming began and the production moved to various European locations, contact gradually tapered off to weekly calls and postcards.  Cinnamon felt like her relationship with him had similarly degenerated.  It was very hard to feel connected to him when he was so many miles away.  It was also hard to be mad at him when she had encouraged him to go.  She missed him, desperately, as she always did when they were apart.  She didn’t want to think about him being on location, as the director the most influential man on the set, with its share of aspiring starlets and beautiful accountants like Sheila Franklin.  She didn’t ask.  He didn’t tell.  She knew that if she did, he would tell the truth and she still wasn’t sure she would like the answer.

When she decided not to take Jennifer out of school in late October to go visit him after his first month away, she feared she was pushing him into the arms of another woman.  Memories of Thanksgiving the prior year flooded her consciousness, but she pushed them aside.  She had to hold strong to her principles, especially where Jennifer was concerned.  The school year had just begun.  Jennifer should not miss a week of classes.  Rollin was very disappointed, probably even angry with her about that decision.

She knew they would always see things differently when it came to structure and routine.  She felt it was very important for Jennifer to have a regular schedule in first year of elementary school.  She didn’t want her to miss days and fall behind.  Rollin was angry.  He thought she was giving school more importance than time together for him and Jennifer. 

Early November was filled with frustrating phone calls when he argued hard about all the things Jennifer could learn from a trip to Europe.  He insisted he had always learned more outside the classroom than in.  He didn’t seem to understand her view that taking Jennifer out of school meant more than missing a few classes.  It meant jet lag, make-up work, and losing out on extra-curricular activities as she caught up on her assignments.

Rollin had finally convinced Cinnamon to bring Jennifer to Paris for her Thanksgiving break, a time when she would not miss any schoolwork.  Then a week before their planned departure he told her he would need to work everyday they would be there.  She reluctantly decided to cancel that trip too rather than take Jennifer so far only to have to explain why she couldn’t see her father.

Canceling the Thanksgiving trip to Paris had been very, very hard to do.  Rollin was furious at first.  He accused Cinnamon of not wanting to see him, not missing him they way he was missing her.  He even asked her if she had seen Ted.  She tried to explain.  She would have happily flown to Paris for a night – even a few hours – in his arms, so strong was her ache for his touch, his embrace.  But she told him that it would have been too hard on Jennifer to have gone that far and not been able to spend time with her father.

There was anther reason she wanted to see him: her conviction that he wouldn’t stay lonely.  No, after so much missing her, he would be replacing her, even if only temporarily.  She did not doubt his attraction to her, but recognized proximity and immediacy played a more looming role in his life than hers.  It had happened before.  She didn’t want to think about it.

Now, finally, they would all be together.  The last day of production was scheduled for December 17^th.  At last their phone calls became positive, looking forward rather than back.  There was no further discussion of the aborted visits, no more recriminations.  With Cinnamon’s penchant for lists, Maria’s mastery of the kitchen, and Jennifer’s enthusiasm, everything was ready for Christmas.  The only item remaining on the list was trimming the tree and Jennifer was insistent that they wait for Rollin.  Post-production would take place in LA in January.  Rollin was due in on December 20^th, the day after Jennifer’s last day at school.  She had been counting “Days until Daddy comes back” since the aborted Thanksgiving trip. 

Rollin called on the 19^th to say the shoot had run over and he expected to arrive on the 21^st instead.  Cinnamon had to break the news to Jennifer when she arrived home from school.  The next day he called again, while they were out doing some last minute shopping, and asked Maria to tell them he was sorry but the 22^nd was now looking more realistic.  On the 21st a production assistant named Emma called to confirm that Mr. Hand was booked to leave Prague early the next morning, changing planes in London and arriving Los Angeles on the British Airways flight at 4pm LA time on the 22^nd.

Jennifer was now literally dragging her beautiful “Welcome Home Daddy” sign up and down the stairs.  Her shoulders slumped and her lip curled.  Cinnamon was amazed at how closely she resembled Rollin when he was low.

Cinnamon hated to see her young daughter being put through “wait by the phone” at such an early age.  Cinnamon was torn between her sympathy for Rollin’s plight in the unusually snowy locations and her fervent wish that he would be more thoughtful about what he was doing to Jen, to both of them.  But she feared that maybe she was expecting too much. 

She chided herself for thinking he was not thoughtful.  Her study was filled with a stream of packages from European capitals addressed to her or to Jennifer and even Maria and labeled “Do Not Open ‘til Xmas” and  “No peeking” in Rollin’s bold block letters.  Cinnamon knew Rollin would never do anything to consciously hurt their daughter or to consciously hurt her for that matter.  It seemed to her that despite his devotion to both of them, he simply wasn’t cut out for conventional family arrangements.

Cinnamon arranged to clear her schedule for the 22nd so she and Jen could meet him at the airport.  She debated decorating the tree that morning, but even the suggestion of doing it without Daddy brought Jennifer to uncharacteristic tears.  At ten o’clock the phone rang.  Maria moved toward it, but a sixth sense told Cinnamon to pick it up in her study, “I’ll get it, Maria.”

She closed her study door behind her as she entered.  “Hello?”

“Hi.”  The connection wasn’t great and he didn’t sound like himself.

“Aren’t you at 36,000 feet?”

“Believe me, I would be if I could.”

Cinnamon braced herself.  Christmas without him would be a terrible blow for Jen and not much fun for her either.  “What happened?”

“My flight out of Prague was canceled.”

“Oh Rollin.”  All her disappointment ended up in her voice, and she knew it came out tinged with blame.

“Cinnamon … this isn’t what I wanted either.”  He had been wounded.

“I didn’t … I’m sorry – that sounded different to how I meant it.  I know you want to be here.”

“Desperately.”

“That’s how we feel too.   We miss you.”

“Me too.”

She could hear his depression and weariness and felt badly for upsetting him further.  “When’s the next flight?”

 “Well it wasn’t ‘til tomorrow, so I took a flight to Vienna.  That’s where I am now.  I’m trying to get on a flight to Frankfurt that leaves in about an hour.  I’m not sure when I’ll get to LA, but I wanted to let you know what’s going on.”

“Shall I tell Jen?”

“Yeah.  Would you? Tell her I’m sorry.”

“She knows.  How was the last day of production?”

“About 48 hours long.  I’m glad it’s over.”

“How was the wrap party?”

“It’s tonight.”

“Rollin?”  She couldn’t believe the consummate bon vivant would miss the wrap party of the first feature film he directed.

“I want to be with you. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll get there by Christmas.”

“Sweetheart, you sound tired.”

Hearing her call him sweetheart perked him up.  “To the core.  I’ll sleep on the plane.  A trick I learned in a prior life.”

“Darling, there’s a tap on the door.  I’m sure it’s a little person desperate to talk to her dad.”

“I’m just gonna upset her – “

“Don’t under-estimate her, she comes from hardy stock.”  Cinnamon opened the door with the phone tucked under her ear and a finger to her lips.  She took Jennifer’s hand and led her to the couch.

“Cinnamon, I’m doing my best, but I’m not sure when I can get there.  I’m just gonna tell her the truth.”

“Always.”  She turned to her daughter, “Jen, there’s a caller here who would like to speak with you.”  She handed her the phone.

Jennifer used her best phone manners, “Hello, this is Jennifer speaking.” 

Cinnamon watched her blue eyes light up as she exclaimed, “Daddy!”  She heard her daughter’s side of the conversation – an update on school holiday festivities and the inevitable plea when will you be home.  Cinnamon was impressed with her partner because whatever answer he gave seemed to reassure Jennifer without over-promising. 

She heard Jennifer say, “Okay, but try your best to get here fast because we need your help decorating the tree.  And you know Santa comes in just a few days.  Maybe he can wait if you’re not back yet.  I’ll talk to Mom about that…Okay.  Yep, I caught it.”  She blew him a kiss.  “Did you get mine?  …I love you, Daddy... Okay, here’s Mom.”  She beamed at her mother as she passed her the phone, and happily skipped out the door, headed for the kitchen to update Maria.

Cinnamon smiled as she took the phone and told him, “I love you too.”

“Will you blow me a kiss?”

Cinnamon sent three down the phone line, happy that Rollin’s voice sounded brighter.  “Did you get mine?”

“Mmmm…yes.  Here’s one.  The others I want to deliver in person.  They’re signaling me.  I think I got on the flight.”

“Terrific.  I love you.  We love you.”

“I love you.  See you as soon as I can.  Bye.”

On the morning of the 23^rd, the phone woke Cinnamon.  It was Rollin saying he was in New York on standby for all the flights to LA.  He wasn’t sure which flight he’d make and might not have a chance to call, so he would get a cab from the airport and not to wait up.  Cinnamon had a hard time getting Jennifer away from the front door.  Jen saw off Maria when her nephew stopped by to pick her up to drive to her sister Consuelo’s in San Diego. Jennifer perched on the front step, chin in her hands, waiting for Rollin. 

There was still no word from Rollin at nine pm.  Jennifer wanted to stay up.  Cinnamon finally convinced her to go to sleep with the promise that Daddy would be home when she woke up and they could spend Christmas Eve trimming the tree together. 

As she watched the clock tick later and later she regretted her bold pronouncement to her daughter.  Finally she heard a cab pull into the drive.  She met Rollin at the door.  He looked haggard and unshaven.  His overcoat was fully buttoned up despite the California heat.  His only luggage was the leather satchel he used as a script bag.

Cinnamon pulled him into her arms.  As she hugged him he pressed his forehead against hers. ”Rollin, you’re burning up!” 

“Mmmm, I’m just so glad to be home.”  He leaned down to kiss her and moved with her through the doorway.

“Where are your bags?”

He shook his head.  “God knows.”  His voice was as scratchy as his cheek.

Cinnamon reached for his forehead with her palm.  “Are you okay? How do you feel?”

“Terrible.  Where’s Jen?” 

“Asleep – very reluctantly.  It’s after midnight.”

Rollin moved toward the couch, his arms still wrapped around Cinnamon.  “Told you I’d make it for Christmas.” 

“Sweetheart, I’ve missed you so much.”  She kissed him deeply. 

Rollin returned her kisses and pulled her across his chest.  “Me too.  It feels so good to hold you.”

“It’s nice to be held.”

Rollin sighed and leaned against her.  Cinnamon held his head to her shoulder.  “Head hurt?”

“Throbbing.  I feel like I swallowed a plate glass window.”

“What can I get you? Maybe some soup?”

He kissed her fingers and shook his head.  “Mmm, no I’m okay.”

“Lemon tea?  How about a hot bath?” 

“Nah.  You know what would be good? Come with me to check on Jen.”

“Sure.”  Cinnamon smiled as she sat up and pulled him off the couch.  They moved arm in arm up the stairs.  “She missed you so much, Rollin.”

“Me, too.  It was too long to be away from both of you.”

At the top of the stairs she reached for his cheek and pulled his face closer to kiss him softly, “I missed you so much.”

Rollin met her kiss with his, holding her tightly.  Cinnamon gently disengaged to open the door to Jennifer’s bedroom.  Rollin eagerly peeked in and saw his sleeping daughter curled up near the top of her bed.  Her blonde hair was longer than when he had last seen her three months ago.  He gently brushed a strand away from her face.  “She’s beautiful.”  Rollin rose and pulled Cinnamon closer to kiss her forehead.  Cinnamon pointed toward the foot of the bed.  Rollin followed her direction and grinned as he read Jennifer’s welcome home sign.

Cinnamon pulled him back through the doorway and toward their bedroom.  “You should be in bed.”

“I don’t want to give it to you.  I should sleep in the guest room.”

Cinnamon shook her head.  “Not an option.  I can’t sleep another night without you beside me.  If Jen and I are going to get it, we’re going to get it”

Rollin squeezed her shoulder.  “I’m so glad to hear you say that.”  They kissed softly.  “I’m going to jump in the bath.  I’ve been in these clothes for three days.”

“Why don’t you soak in the steam.  I’ll get you some pj’s.”

When Cinnamon came in with his robe and pajamas, he was asleep in the bathtub, his head tucked against his shoulder.  It was nice to have him there, to see his long lean body before her.  She thought he looked skinny.  She reached for a washcloth and wrung it out before placing it across his forehead.  He woke.  “Mmmm, sorry, I’m exhausted.”

“You need sleep, Sweetheart.  Just get dressed and get in bed.”

He dutifully complied.  When she joined him, he pulled her against him so he could spoon her as he fell asleep.  Cinnamon realized she felt completely relaxed feeling his arms surround her.  She drifted into contented sleep.

Cinnamon awoke to tapping at the bedroom door.  She disengaged Rollin’s arm from around her waist and hurried for the door.  She opened carefully, signaling to Jennifer to stay quiet.  She reached for Jennifer’s hand and whispered as she led her over to see Rollin.  “Sweetie, we have to whisper.  Dad has a bad cold and needs more rest today.”

“When is he going to wake up?” Jen asked softly but disappointedly.

“Soon.  Let’s go make Dad his favorite breakfast.  We can bring him a tray when he wakes up.”

Jennifer found it hard to believe that Dad’s favorite breakfast wasn’t Mickey Mouse ear pancakes.  She went along with her mother’s suggestion of a pot of coffee, fresh orange juice, a mango, and a toasted bagel with lox Maria had specially picked up.  Cinnamon sent Jennifer out to the patio to choose a flower for the bud vase.  Jennifer quickly came running back to ask her to bring the clippers and cut one of the pink roses from the bush.

A few minutes later they carried the tray upstairs.  Jennifer brought the sign from her bedroom and they quietly opened the bedroom door together.  Rollin was tossing in the bed.  When his eyes opened Jennifer flew into his arms.  Kisses, hugs, and various tumbles in the sheets threatened the stability of the breakfast tray on more than one occasion.  Cinnamon delighted in their reunion.  They were both so happy to be together again.

After breakfast Jennifer snuggled in Rollin’s arms and regaled him with stories of the school Christmas pageant as well as a list of presents she had sent to Santa.  Rollin eventually mustered the strength to shave and dress and waved away Cinnamon’s protests that he should stay in bed and she should call Dr Green for a house call. 

Rollin sat on the patio basking in the sun while Jennifer showed him she had mastered diving while he was away.  After marveling at his daughter’s technique, restored by the warmth of the sun, he decided he was ready for the challenge of moving the potted evergreen from the yard into the family room.  Cinnamon intended to plant it along the driveway after it served as a Christmas tree.

They spent Christmas Eve hanging ornaments, listening to carols, hanging stockings, watching The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.   Rollin’s cold improved quickly.  Jennifer was too excited to sleep, but agreed to go to bed and try if mom and dad both tucked her in and kissed her goodnight.  Her parents were happy to comply.  Once she was tucked away, Cinnamon sent Rollin for a box in the trunk of her car. 

Rollin opened the box cautiously.  He was stymied by the plan for assembling the bike.  “Cinnamon? We need to call Barney.  This doesn’t make any sense.”

Cinnamon poured medicinal brandy into Maria’s eggnog and passed him a glass.  “We’re on our own.  He’s probably got three of his own to build.  Come on, we can figure it out.”

Rollin’s brow knitted together.  “We’re going to be up all night.”

“One partially assembled bicycle.  Two extremely competent parents who get to go to bed – together for the first time in months - as soon as they finish.  I feel highly motivated to figure this out.”

Rollin smiled as he leaned over to kiss her.  “Well, when you give me an incentive like that.” 

Within the hour the blue bicycle was under the tree and Rollin and Cinnamon were under the covers delighting in each other’s body.    Rollin peeled Cinnamon’s nightgown over her head. He hadn’t even bothered with pajamas. “I’ve been dreaming about being with you,” he caressed her breasts softly.  “And you’re even more dazzling than the image I conjure.”

Cinnamon laughed as she felt his forehead.  “Still delirious?”

“Only deliriously in love with you.”  He kissed her as he rolled her onto her back.  Without breaking contact with her lips his fingers traced circles around her breast, narrowing to her erect nipple. His lips moved to her neck. “God I’ve missed you.”  He murmured, still kissing her. 

Cinnamon luxuriated in his touch.  “I’ve imagined you doing this to me, aching for you.”

“Mmm, talk about ache,” He guided her hand and moaned as she grasped his stiffness.  He slid down her body. “Cinnamon, I want to make the ache go away.  I want to be better for you than you could ever imagine.”  She lost contact and reached instead for his head as he parted her legs.

Cinnamon gasped as his tongue caressed her.  She knew he could make the ache go away.  She knew years ago that he was the only man who could; it had just taken awhile to admit it to herself.  Her pelvis tipped as she reacted to his probing.  He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her closer, parting her legs even further, burrowing more deeply into her essence.  Already she felt the moist reaction from deep within and knew, even subconsciously, she was preparing for him.  He heightened all her senses.  It wasn’t just her orgasm that took her to new highs; it was every part of the act of being loved by him.

His tongue slid along her opening, slick and warm and somehow soothing her.  Her pelvis tipped further, an involuntary reaction of her nerve endings craving deeper penetration.  He knew this immediately and his thumb joined his tongue.  Her hips began rocking, clenching and unclenching against his motion.  He stiffened his tongue and drew it up to her top, stroking against the bead she knew he had found.  She let her head flop back.  Her fingers raked through his hair then fell by her side.  She didn’t want any of her body sense to be anywhere but where he was.  The sensation was too precious to diffuse.  Her body mind traveled to the site. 

When her hips began to rise more powerfully, he slipped his hands beneath her, holding her haunches, squeezing the firm muscles, adding to her pleasure with his rhythmic massage.  She needed air. She hadn’t realized she was that close. Her pelvis bucked again as she cried out.  Her knees drew up to her waist, exposing every cell of herself to him.  Spurred on, his hands released her bottom and both his thumbs joined his tongue to massage her in deep smooth strokes.  “Rollin!  Rollin.”  She gave his name to the joy she was feeling. 

He stayed with her until her pitching quieted.  She reached for his hair and massaged his head.  He rose to lie across her, leaving his hand to finger her and spread her moisture.  “I missed how you taste.”  He kissed her softly.

“I’ve missed feeling this way.” 

He smiled and rolled onto his hip so they were side by side.  Cinnamon traced her fingertips down his chest and once again encircled him.  With one hand she cradled his balls.  The other hand traced the frenulum and rubbed his slit with the pad of her fingertip.  “God, I want you Cinnamon.”

It was her turn to smile.  His hand moved more energetically against her.  She guided his shaft toward her passage, which was already alive with feeling.  He sighed as he made contact with the warm dew they had created.  He wanted to stroke her with his dick, to rub it along her lips, but the pull to glide into her was too intense to resist.  He pressed into her with a gasp of pleasure. “You’re so tight.”

“It’s been a long time since September.” She sighed deeply.

He could not hold back and his hips pressed against her.  “Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head.  “I want you inside me, Rollin.”

His hips begin to pulsate and with each push forward he moved more deeply inside of her.  By the time his whole length was enshrouded, his breath was quick and his motion vibrant.  Cinnamon rolled onto her back, taking Rollin with her as he pumped against her.  His hips flicked against hers.  He was completely inside her and the root of his shaft pressed against her sensitive zone.  He moaned as he tried to slow down.

“Keep going,” she urged.

“You’re not with me.”  He needed to buy time and bring her back to the precipice.  He partially withdrew so the turtlehead of his rod could press against her g-spot.

“Oh God.  I am Rollin, I am.”  Cinnamon’s knees gripped his hips.  “I’m with you.”

They rocked together mercilessly as he stabbed just inside the roof of her entry.  The slick moisture made him crave a return to the heat of her passage.  He waited as long as could, stroking her, holding himself back.  Her muffled scream came just as he was at the limit of his endurance.  He plunged himself back in fully and pulled her hips against his thrusts until he felt the unmatchable surge of coming inside her.

They slept soundly, waking only when Jennifer pounded on their door calling “Merry Christmas.”   Christmas week was magical family time. When Jennifer slept, they made up for lost time.   On New Year’s Eve they shared a toast of 7up with Jennifer then put her to bed.  But they could not escape until both had read her a bedtime story. When her eyelids finally fell, they hurried to the bedroom.

Rollin sat in the armchair near the French doors to the balcony.  A bottle of champagne was propped in the ice bucket next to two crystal flutes.  He was wearing the paisley silk robe she had given him for Christmas, not bothering to tie the sash.  A rectangular box wrapped in extravagant red ribbon lay across his lap.  His arms were resting calmly on the cushioned sides of the chair.

Cinnamon left the bathroom and looked at the box.  “Another present?”

Rollin nodded.  “Not an under the tree present.”

Cinnamon knew he was up to something, she just hadn’t figured out what.  “Really?  From Santa?”

Rollin nodded again, his eyes not leaving her.  Cinnamon moved closer to stand directly before him.  She smiled coyly, “Is it for me?”

“It’s for both of us.  But you need to open it … in the bathroom.”

Cinnamon doubted it was new bath towels, but decided to meet his challenge.  She lifted the package off his lap and revealed his erection tenting the silk robe.  “Hmmm.  Will you be waiting for me?”

Rollin’s smirk gave way to a sigh, nodding again.  She took her time sauntering toward the bathroom.  If he was already hard with anticipation there was nothing to do but milk it.  She gave him a glance over her shoulder as she slowly closed the door.  She laid the box on the vanity, pulled the ribbon, and opened the top.  Beneath layers of tissue she found a black leather merry widow. She lifted it out of the box and saw the cut outs at the crotch and breasts.  A pair of thigh high black boots was underneath. She smiled as she looked at the sole just in front of the spiky heel – her size.  She checked the size of the merry widow.  Right again. 

Rollin had bought her many pieces of lingerie over the years, but this was her first leather merry widow.  It reminded her of something Mona Berne might wear, for a very private cabaret.  She quickly pulled her angora sweater over her head, unhooked her bra, slid off her flats, and slipped off her slacks and panties.  She looked in the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair to loosen it and give it a bit more body.  She reached for her perfume and sprayed a fine mist over all the places she knew Rollin would notice. 

She stepped into the merry widow and adjusted it.  Climbing into the outfit and cupping her breasts through the cut outs peaked her nipples.  The leather was soft and pliable.  She struggled to tighten the honeycomb of laces up the back by reaching over her head and looking in the mirror.  Mona would have had a dresser.  She nearly laughed at her own image, but if it made him happy. 

Then she slipped on the boots.  Wow!  She felt suddenly charged.  The boots made her feel incredibly sexy.  Now her look into the mirror was nothing like a laugh.  She drew her lips into an almost pout, pulled back her shoulders, maximizing her chest and did a half turn to scrutinize her thighs.  Not bad. The boots were fantastic!

She opened the top drawer of the vanity.  She pulled out two tubes of lipstick, opened each to check the color, and selected the deepest red she had.  She slowly stroked the color on, accenting the peak of her upper lip.  Then she pursed her lips and rubbed them sensually together.  She dabbed a shiny gloss on top. Lastly she lined her lips heavily in black kohl, extending just beyond the corners of her eyes with a slight upturn.

She met her own eyes in the mirror.  How could she make the most of this?  Was this a dominatrix fantasy of his?  She double-checked the box.  No whip.  Was she his sex slave?  She’d have to let him lead on the story element and improvise once she got the gist.  She was tingling inside.  It reminded her of being on a mission, the thrill and the excitement of knowing she was reliant on her wits and with her favorite partner for improvisation.

She knew her legs were his favorite of her features.  She partially opened the door and stood with one leg on view, but her face hidden behind the door.  She turned off the bathroom light to be sure she had his attention.  She waited a moment, letting his excitement build.

She swallowed, searching for a throaty, husky voice.  “Did Santa have these made in his workshop?’

Apparently he was playing the waiting game too.  Eventually he broke the silence, “Yeah.  His workshop in Berlin.”

Slowly she folded her way around the door and slunk into the room.  “The attention to detail is astonishing.”

Rollin was still sitting calmly in the chair.  His eyes must have drifted across every inch of her body before he replied.  “Astonishing.”

Cinnamon turned her back to him and placed her hands on her hips in a bold stance.  “My favorite is the boots.”

An eternity passed before he added, “Mine too.”

Cinnamon held her pose silently, still turned away from him.  It was a battle of wills now.

Finally, Rollin made the next move.  “I want you to turn around.”

Cinnamon took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before even beginning to move.  She shifted her weight to her left foot and made a gentle slow pivot to face him.  He had opened his robe and was stroking his hard shaft with one hand.  Their eyes met and held each other.  “All the way,” he clarified.

Again, she considered it before complying.  Inhaling deeply, she tossed her head slightly and turned.  When her back was once again to him, she sighed loudly.

“What?” he asked. 

It worked.  She was in charge now.  “I was wondering if you wanted me to bend over like this?”  She smoothly leaned forward and pressed her palms into the carpet, grateful for all her morning stretch sessions while he had been away.  “Or –“ She rose gracefully “if you would rather I just stay here,” she spread her legs slightly, “like this.”

“What would you like to do?”

Cinnamon slowly turned again so she could meet his blue eyes.  “Well, when you were away, I’d have given anything to have you sitting in that chair, much the way you are now.”

He met her smirk and pointedly moved his other hand to join the first.  “And?”

She took a step toward him and his magnificent erection.  “And if you were, I wouldn’t be all the way over here.”  She continued her slow walk, making sure to sway her hips and take advantage of the boots.

“You wouldn’t be?” His balls were tightening and rising as he tugged on his rod, lengthening it before her. 

Cinnamon stopped a foot in front of him.  “No.”

Rollin had to look up to meet her eyes.  “Where would you be?”

“I think more like here.”  Cinnamon smoothly kneeled.  She realized the boots were almost like built-in knee pads.  She shuffled closer to the chair.  “And your hands wouldn’t be there?”

She knew Rollin wouldn’t want to let go now.  Without any change in his rhythm he asked, “Where would they be?”

“Your hands would be here.”  Cinnamon’s hands moved to cup her breasts. She twirled her nipples between her fingers. 

“Yeah,” was Rollin’s lusty reply.

“My hands would be here.” She reached for his cock and he eagerly swapped places, moving his hands to her breasts, tweaking her nipples and rolling them against his palms.

“Like this?’ he asked as his butt clenched, fighting to maintain control as she stroked him.

“Just for a short time.”

“What happens next?”  Rollin asked, taking in a deep breath.

“This.”  Cinnamon lowered her lips onto his shaft.  His hips rose partially out of the chair as he adjusted to the feeling of her tongue tormenting his head.  Then she took his length inside her mouth.  He released her nipples and moved his hands to her head, weaving his fingers through her soft hair. 

She pulled back slightly to take a breather but his hands pressed her back down not wanting her to reduce the amount of him she had inside.  His breathing was fast and furious.  She knew he was close.

He held the sides of her head, setting the pace as she rose and fell along his shaft.  “I don’t want you to stop.”  She did not let up her pace.  He moaned, thrilled that she had not released him.  He stood, holding her head against his crotch and gently pumped.  She reached around him, under the robe, to grasp his haunches.  His strokes lengthened, his buttocks clenched, then he jettisoned his load.  He stood shaking as his legs quivered.  Slowly, she released him and turned her head to wipe her lips against his robe.

His fingers combed through her hair and softly caressed her neck.  He reached for her shoulders and pulled her to stand in front of him.  He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her fully, tasting the jism she had accepted. She held his broad shoulders.  His hands trailed down her arms.  One hand moved to between her legs and he fingered her through the opening in the leather.  “You’re wet.”

“You made me that way.”

“Did I?’  He lowered his lips to suckle her breast.

“You always do.”

“Always?”  His fingers probed deeper.

“Always.”

He rose and shrugged his robe off then sat back into the chair pulling her toward him so she was kneeling on the chair on either side of his hips.  From this position he could explore her face, her ears, her neck, her breasts with his lips and tongue.  His fingers continued to oscillate inside her.  He soon had her moaning.  His hands moved to her thighs, the thin strip of skin not covered by her boots.  He lifted her slightly bringing her forward so he could slip his revived rod inside her.  She gratefully sat down astride him.

She rode him as his hips undulated against her.  He was busy fiddling with her laces, trying to untie them.  She liked this position, one of the few times in their sex life when she felt she was in control, at least of pace and penetration.  But it didn’t last long.  Once he had the laces undone, he pressed against the armrests to rise out of the chair with Cinnamon straddling him, still delightfully impaled on his shaft.  He walked the few steps toward the bed, lowered her onto her back, withdrawing to slide the merry widow off her.  He hadn’t considered her boots and she laughed when she saw the realization that his plan wouldn’t work cross his face.

“If you’d like, I’ll put them back on.”  She told him with a sly smile.

“How fast?” He asked as he pulled first one than the other off. 

Cinnamon slid the merry widow down.  She was hot.  The leather was sticky.  She was glad he had turned the task over to her and smiled to disguise her discomfort.  She tried to remain sexy and alluring but felt like a self-peeling banana.  At last she could step out of the corset and lean back onto the bed to raise one long leg at a time straight up toward the ceiling as she replaced the boots.

Rollin stood before her, erection haHHHHHHhhhhh

 proud and stiff, clearly relishing her legs in those boots.  She lay back on the bedspread and slowly, slyly spread her legs.  He crawled between them, kneeling, lifting her thighs in the black leather, laying her legs over his thighs so he could pull her back onto his rod.  She arched her back to raise her hips and assist.  He pushed into her and the lovely syncopation began again. 

She was feeling the waves churn through her in no time. When he moved his thumb along her ridge she thought she’d convulse.  Her orgasm was deep and reverberating.  She felt her insides pulsate against him.  Rollin gasped too. ”God!”  He strained against her and exploded.  He had to lower his head to catch his breath. 

He kissed her forehead.  “Cinnamon, you’re so incredible.  Nobody makes me feel the way you do.  You are the best.”

She heard him but didn’t want to hear.  She closed her eyes as her body returned to earth with a thud.  She tried to block it out, but there was no escaping the fact that he was comparing and using the present tense.  She clenched her eyes more tightly, but it was her ears she wanted to block and she knew it was already too late for that.

He kissed her forehead, softly brushing her hair back, gently caressing her neck.  Could she have misunderstood?

His hand traced down to her nipple, cupping her breast.  He withdrew slowly, sighing again.  His lips traced her body, stopping to kiss each breast, her abdomen, her essence.  She knew she had gone rigid.  The thought of him with someone else – again - stopped her cold.  She felt foolish, betrayed and used, but mostly foolish for convincing herself he could be faithful.   She rolled away from him and pulled the boots off, letting them slip off the bed onto the carpet.  She pulled her robe from the foot of the bed and slipped it on.

He sighed and traced her back lovingly.   Cinnamon felt the heat rising inside her chest.  She turned to face him.  “What did you mean when you said no one else makes you feel the way I do?  Have you slept with someone else after you left me in September?”

She saw his eyes roll and brow knit, searching as he considered his reply.  She sighed involuntarily.  In that moment she decided she wouldn’t like his answer and wished she hadn’t asked the question.

Cinnamon focused on the weave of the bedspread.   “Did you buy her thigh high boots and leather lingerie? Does she prance around for you like I did?”

Rollin swallowed his response, still stunned.

“Oh, maybe she gets a different costume for a different fantasy.  Which is the part I’m best at? The prancing or the sex?  Or are they just the same thing for you?”  Cinnamon couldn’t hold back her tears and turned away.

Finally Rollin found his voice.  “No.  No is the answer to your question. I haven’t slept with anyone else since I left you in September.”

Cinnamon turned to face him.  She wanted to believe him.

“Cinnamon, I gave you my word.  Why can’t you trust me?”

“There was no one else?”

“Not in Europe.”

Cinnamon was overcome by his qualifier.  She could not hold back her sob.  “Where?”

Rollin reached for her shoulder, but she pulled back.  “I promised you in September, right here in this bed. And since then there hasn’t been anyone else.”

“Where Rollin and when?”

Rollin sighed.  “Cinnamon I haven’t been with anyone but you since September.  I did … sleep with an actress on the picture before that. But we were separated – and you were with Ted.”

“You mean in Canada, when you had Jennifer with you.”

Rollin hung his head shamefully. He had no response.

Cinnamon dried her eyes with her palm.  “The actress, was it Laura?”

“Who?”

“The redhead, from New York.”

“No, of course not.”  He wanted to hold her, to make it right, to erase the pain he had caused her.  But he knew he could not.  “Cinnamon, I thought we fixed this. Why are you so afraid?”

Cinnamon’s mascara was running.  She rubbed her eye.  “All I can think about right now is you going on location and me thinking where are you, who are you with, will you come back?”

Rollin turned away with a sigh.  “You really give me no credit.”

Cinnamon’s voice grew cold. “You haven’t earned my trust Rollin. Or Jennifer’s!”

“How can you say that!  Yes, in the past, I … betrayed you – I’m sorry.  It didn’t feel like that to me or I never would have been able to do it, but I accept that from your perspective I betrayed you.  I have never done anything to betray Jennifer.”

“You bolted the minute I told you I was pregnant.”

Rollin was livid.  “Damn it!  Will you let that go!  I made a mistake.  I was scared.  It was almost eight years ago.  I’ve done everything I can to get you to forgive me.  Why do you have to hold that over my head?  Why can’t you let that go?”

Rollin was shouting, but Cinnamon’s response was only a whisper.  “Because you hurt me more than I have ever been hurt in my life.”

“For a minute can you think about how I feel every time you brush me off when I ask you to marry me?”  Rollin was exasperated.  “Cinnamon, you won’t let me have a family.  You don’t want to share her.   This way you hold all the cards.  That’s it, isn’t it?”

Cinnamon shook her head adamantly.  “Rollin, you disappoint her every time you disappear. She wants to know when you’ll be back and I’m never sure what to say.”

Rollin was distraught.  “Except for getting in late at Christmas I’ve been where I’ve said I’ll be.”

Cinnamon was racked with tears.  She knew she was being unfair, but she couldn’t change the way she felt.  “All right.  You disappoint me every time you disappear.  I know I’m not twenty-five anymore.  I know what you want.”

“What has gotten into you?”  Rollin reached for her arms.  “I WANT YOU!” 

Cinnamon shook him off and moved away. Rollin felt his heart in his throat.  He slid closer, not touching her.  “Cin, I was wrong.  They meant nothing to me and everything to you.  I didn’t know!  Cinnamon, I’ve promised you it will never happen again.  I just didn’t see.”

He was more scared than he had ever been in his life.  “Cinnamon, you’re the one for me, the only one.  You’re all I want.  That’s all I was trying to say to you.  In the past, maybe I’ve been … opportunistic … and disloyal.  I was wrong.  I never saw how much I was hurting you. But it’s the past.”

Cinnamon wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.  “You’ve told me this before.  I know you think you want just me, but then we’re apart and someone comes along.”

Rollin was desperate for her to understand.  “Not if you would marry me! What is so wrong with me that I’m not worthy of being your husband? Don’t you see? I need you to choose me!”

“Rollin, we’ve been here before.  I don’t believe you could do it.”

“Marry me and find out.” 

Cinnamon shook her head. “I’m not sure you really want to marry me.”

Rollin fumed. “Well I know you don’t want to marry me.  You’ve said no enough times.”

“Is that it? It’s a challenge now? Not used to getting turned down?”

“Good try, but you’re the goddamn control freak, not me!”  He left the bed and grabbed his robe from the chair.

Cinnamon was speechless.  He had struck a nerve. His accusation about control stung.

He continued “She’s six years old.  She’s brilliant.  She can miss a couple of days of school!  But can you miss a couple of days at the IMF? Could Jim possibly survive without you?  But no, that means you’d have to come to my turf!”

“Rollin what would I have seen if I came?  Who would I have found you with?  What would Jennifer have seen?”

“Her father – she would have seen her father!”

“Rollin, I won’t marry you because I’m not sure I can trust you and somehow that makes it okay for you to sleep around?  Who wants to control who?” Cinnamon was furious.  “And if I can’t marry you, you punish me for having doubt.  You can’t just be faithful to me because I deserve your fidelity?  Why do I have to be married to you to get that kind of respect – the respect I deserve?”

“For the same reason it was okay for you to sleep with your blonde beach boy doctor.  Make a commitment to me!”

Why was he dragging Ted into this?  The last thing she wanted to do now was re-visit the last painful year.   She let him blow off steam as he paced their bedroom.  She tried to gather her thoughts and to explain how she felt with less emotion.

“Rollin, we’re just back where we started.”  Cinnamon leaned back against the headboard.  She pulled the bedspread around her.  “It’s wonderful to have you back, here, with us.  But we both know you won’t stay.  There’ll be another project somewhere.  And when you’re away, you’re totally focused on the picture.  It’s like time stops for you and all that matters is whatever you’re doing at the moment.  Who you’re with.”  As she heard herself speak, Cinnamon realized that was the exact same reason why sex with him was so magical.  She continued, “But time doesn’t stop for me.”

“You know if I could choose I would be with you all the time.  I need to work and I need to go where the work is.  You told me you wanted me to do the film.  I wanted you to be with me on location. I tried to be with you and Jennifer.  You wouldn’t come.  What am I supposed to do then?” 

Cinnamon shook her head softly.  “Let’s not re-hash the fight about taking Jen out of school.”

Rollin was angry. He strode toward the French doors to the balcony, turning to face her.   “Why not?  Do you want to re-hash the one about canceling the Thanksgiving trip?  Cinnamon, I’m sorry my career doesn’t conform to your schedule!”

“Rollin, it’s more complicated than that and you very well know it.”

He was damned if he was going to be rejected again without understanding why.  “Just tell me what you want from me!”

“Just what do we have?  Besides sex?”

Rollin was incredulous. “How can you say that?” 

“No, really?”

He was exasperated.  “Well for one, we have Jennifer!” Rollin thundered.

Cinnamon rose to his fury.  “And she’s here because we had sex!”

Rollin was speechless.  She was being irrational and unreasonable, but he realized much of what she said was about the past year and the catalyst for that had been his dalliance in New York.  He probably wasn’t getting any worse than he deserved.  He kicked himself for not turning Laura down.

Cinnamon was crying now.  She was surprised at the raw emotion she felt.  Listening to herself, she knew she was striking out, trying to inflict on him the same pain she had endured.  But there was another part of her that hated to hurt him. 

Rollin sat close beside her.  Cinnamon felt his energy and his warmth, even though he hadn’t touched her.  She didn’t know where to go next. She was spent.  She looked at her hands, willing her breathing to calm.

Rollin’s arm reached behind her on the bed, supporting his weight as he leaned closer, still not touching her. His warm breath caressed her ear.  “No one but you, Cinnamon.  It’s you that I love. You and Jennifer.”

His voice, low and throaty, stirred the part of her that always reacted to him. She turned her head slightly.  He leaned closer to nuzzle her neck.  She couldn’t quite give in though and turned her head away. 

Rollin’s fingers went to her arm and gingerly caressed her wrist and hand, waiting to see if she would pull away.  When she didn’t he brought her fingers to his lips.  “Please let me show you how much I love you.”

Cinnamon met his eyes. “Rollin, one reason I didn’t visit you is because I thought Jennifer shouldn’t miss school.  And I still believe that.  But there’s another reason too.”

He held her hand, waiting for her to continue.

Rollin dropped her hand. “Fetyukov!”

“But now it seems he’s not a copy, but the original.”

“I thought the old-liners got rid of Fetyukov after you discredited him?”

Cinnamon nodded.  “That’s what we thought. But in October Jim learned – “

“You’ve known about this since October and you didn’t tell me!” Rollin erupted.

“Rollin, we know very little-“

“We? You and Jim? He knows and I don’t?”

“You don’t have any clearance any more. How could-“

“Cinnamon!” Rollin stood and paced.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t tell you. And the truth is there is very little to say.  Our intelligence is very limited on this.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Why won’t you trust me!” Rollin stormed out of the bedroom.  Minutes later she heard the guest room door slam. 

The End

<return to retire>