“So how was your day?”
“Average. Took Vala to Victoria Secrets, almost blew up a planet and met her father.” He paused and she waited.
“I don’t where to start.”
“How was your day?”
“Not nearly as interesting.” She leant back into her sofa cushions, wishing she could see the smile on his face, imagining him doing similar in his apartment, jacket and tie hanging over the back of his sofa. “So you took Vala to Victoria’s Secret.” She smirked, a little huff of air blowing down the white receiver.
“Yep.”
“Did she buy anything nice?”
“Yep.” He was so predictable, he would get a report on the naquadah filled ships, and find out about Vala’s father in time. She knew he was only really interested in her underwear. And getting in it.
“Got any pictures.”
“Jack!”
Okay, maybe not so predictable.
“I’m kidding Sam.” He grinned, wishing he could see her face, imagining her curled up on her sofa, her favourite pink socks on her feet and Victoria’s Secret hidden under her jeans. “Did you buy anything nice?” He asked, knowing what she was waiting for.
“Maybe.”
“Gonna show me.”
“Maybe.” She was teasing, as much as she could over a phone line, and while she wasn’t going to deny him anything he wanted (not tonight at least) she knew she could always hang up on him. She did it often, for fun (and because she was evil, Jack told her) leave him listening to the dial tone while she went to bed, or to sleep, satisfied. Once he’d turned up on her doorstep at 3am after she’d hung up on him as they coming to the end of one good conversation.
“Come on Sam, I’ve got to use this laptop for something.”
“Other than NHL highlights.”
“And email.” She didn’t reply but he heard another huff air, a light sigh and some rustling. “What are you doing?”
“Stripping.” Her voice was distant.
“Oh.” He pictured her standing in her lounge, phone in the cradle and speaker phone on, pulling her t-shirt over her head and dropping onto the sofa and pulling her jeans down and off. In his mind her socks became two balls of pink fluff on the floor and he couldn’t hear a thing.
“Carter?”
“Hmm?” Still distant.
“Now what are you doing?”
“Taking a picture.” She said it like it was obvious but Jack’s imagination had turned his brain to goo and he knew Sam was anything but obvious. He got up as quick as he could, readjusting his trousers, as he headed for the kitchen to find his laptop.
“Jack?” She sounded so sweet and innocent for someone taking pictures of themselves in their underwear.
“Yeah.” He went back into his lounge, powering up his lap top and throwing himself back onto the sofa with little grace. No one was around to see.
“Got it yet?”
“You’ve sent it already?”
“I have a web cam remember.”
“Aw come on Sam, you have a perfectly good digital camera.”
“You don’t deserve the picture quality,” she answered, her voice close again, clearer. He imagined her sitting back on her sofa, in just her underwear.
He couldn’t log into his email fast enough.
His imagination was never as good as the real thing, even though it now had memories to take pictures from. He had envisioned all sorts of colours and patterns in lace and silk, and he was still miles from guessing the real picture. He should’ve known really, he did sleep with the woman on a semi-regular basis.
The lace was red but almost see-through all the same, a simple pattern that was more about Sam’s pale skin than the underwear itself. He could tell from the front shot that she was wearing a thong, the shape of the underwear gave it away and he could see her nipples through the lace of the bra. At least he thought he could, Sam’s web cam wasn’t the best. He tried to hide his groan but he must’ve failed because he heard a snort of laughter down the phone.
“Red is my favourite.”
“I thought black was?”
“That too.”
“I did buy something black actually. I’m saving it for when I see you next.”
“I can be there in three hours.”
“I’ll see you later.” She hung up the phone, ginning to herself and pulling her t-shirt back on. He’d be on her doorstep in two hours, she could guarantee that, even though they weren’t supposed to be getting together for another month, she could manipulate him in the just the right way to get him to come to her. Or was it stimulate. She didn’t care if that made her evil, she got to see him far more often playing with his mind like this.
She reached for a the little piles of take-away menus on her coffee table. Two hours, just enough time to order, eat and shower before changing into the black chocker she’d bought for him to wear.
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