Strangers; Exclusively (PG-13)

[Selah]

Title: Strangers; Exclusively (Jack, Elle, James Ford)
Rating: Pg-13
Summary: This is strictly AU. My OC Elizabeth Grecco is married to Jack Shepard. She has it all; but wants more. She meets, Det. James Ford and has an instant attraction. The story unfolds as does her relationship with both men.
Status of Fic: WIP
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: The characters, Elle Grecco and Lily belong solely to me. Jack Shepard, James Ford, Miles Straume, belong to Abrams and Lindelof. This contains sexual content and is intended for mature readers. I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Lost.” JJ Abrams and Damon Lindelof created them and they belong to them, Touchstone, and ABC.

I'll Be Your Doctor, I'll Be Your Cure

She used a handful of wooden clothespins to hang up her final black and white photos, sealed the caps on the developing liquids, laid all her instruments, into the soapy disinfecting solution, and wiped her hands on a worn, faded, terry cloth towel.

She had spent hours processing film; while the world went digital, Elle remained content getting up close and personal with her Erickson. She had to feel the control in her trigger finger, snapping photos at superhuman speed, capturing each and every iota of movement in her subjects. Her latest favorite was one she had captured of her husband. His five o’clock shadow overpowered his delicate features, making him appear his age, something only facial hair could do. He was in is late thirties, but his lean, muscular body, his strong, taut arms, chiseled chest, all were indicative of hard work, a lot of pleasure, and courtesy of their joint subscription to the local gym. His eyes, however, regardless of the black and white film, were a constant black; poignant, caring, and unsuspecting.

She took one last look at his picture as it hung on the wire to dry, in her dark room, a room he had worked hours to make just for her, so she wouldn’t have to rent out a shady, hole in the wall, closet downtown. She traced his features with her forefinger, lingering on his lips, and turned to walk out of the room. She flipped off the switch to the dark room, exited, and locked the door. He was working, late, as usual. His hours were confounded, but necessary. They weren’t something she desired for herself when she married him, but she knew what he was, and that was enough for her.

That was also eight years ago. Her nights now, she spent mostly alone. She missed his touch; his slender fingers, tracing her nude body, caressing her breasts, lingering on her throat, where he could feel her heartbeat, pulsing in staccato beats, never slowing down, until he entered her, loved her, erased the mindless hours spent separated.

Lost in the memories, she took a shower, donned a pair of silk panties, a shade of blue like the ocean, and a camisole. She pulled down the duvet, crawled into the silk sheets, he had bought her for her birthday, and fell asleep.

He had come home, after a double shift, running on caffeine, his libido in overdrive. He showered, slipped into the silk sheets, his forever tanned and nude body moist from the shower, spooned into her, letting her know that he was home. She instantly felt him enlarge against her hip, her pulse quickened, and she reached for his strong hand. She guided it up and over her body, leading his fingers to her panties, parting her legs slightly, there, she awaited his touch. He worked her slowly, tapping and rubbing her, while his free hand would massage her neck, then circle her breasts, playfully, until she arched away from him, aroused, awakened, and rolled towards him, her nipples alert, piercing through her sheer camisole; like twin peaks, calling him home. He was always careful with her, undressing her slowly, memorizing her from the dip in her hips, to the beauty mark that nestled itself beneath her right breast. Their bodies, both moist and hot, folded into one another, her legs, entwined themselves with his, her nails scratched slightly down his bare back, where she would take hold of his muscular buttocks, pulling him towards her, their lower halves, melding into one. His hand grabbed her thigh, lifting her slender, yet well-toned, leg around his waist, so he could fill her with his love. They rocked in tandem, her nails digging into his shoulders, their mouths searching for one another’s. They met, with ferocity, his tongue teasing her, her teeth playfully tugging at his lower lip while she moaned in ecstasy, his name leaving her mouth in raspy breaths; a sound that would get him off every time, a sound he knew, and cherished, as she climaxed. It was his name and she was his. He could feel her coming close, her body flowing over him with desire, as his warmth erupted in her, releasing them both into submission; she cried out his name.

“Jack.”

“Hey,” he breathed into her mouth, a smile curling on his lips, he kissed her mouth twice, her breathing slowed, and she leaned her head back on the pillow, and smiled at him.

“Hey, yourself,” she still had her hands on his shoulders, but now she was rubbing them up and down his back, landing on his sides. She playfully pinched him in what she called his no flub, love handles, and felt him stir against her, again.

“You know what that does to me,” his eyebrows arched and she bit her lower lip, nodding,

“Oh, I know,” she pinched his flesh again, and watched as he arched his head back, closing his eyes, stifling a moan.

“Calling Dr. Sheppard,” she teased, her leg, bent at a forty-five degree angle, resting against his hip.

“Doctor…Jack…Sheppard,” she said his name slowly, raising the other leg up, straddling it across his back, “it appears we have an emergency.”

Jack opened his eyes, their dominance returned, and he buried his face in her ample breasts, taking them into his mouth, suckling on her flesh. He began to trail his tongue between her bronze medallions, slowly flitting his tongue across her bare stomach, where he stopped at her belly button, his hands on her hips, slowly parting her legs, where she graciously opened into him, her fingers wound tightly in his hair, pushing his head lower, until she could feel his lips on her. She moaned in response and murmured,

“Emergency rerouted,” she twisted her legs around his lean, back, and flipped him onto his back, inverting their positions. Her long, wavy, chocolate hair, with natural amber reflections, fell about her face. He ran his hands up from her form fitted bare bottom, to her waist, rocking her atop him, where he fit like a well-worn suede glove. He warmed her from the inside out, chill bumps formed on her arms, where he rubbed them away. She laid atop of him, her breasts nestling amidst his dark chest of hair, she placed one hand on his chest, playing with his nipple, while the other one, raked its fingers through his cropped, but wavy, hair.

“I’ve missed you,” she kissed his chest, while Jack stroked her bare back, traipsing his fingers up and down, slowly, raising the bumps on her skin, again.

“If you couldn’t tell,” Jack kissed her atop her head, “I’ve missed you as well.”

“Oh, is that what that was,” she laughed into his stomach as he inched her into his arms, so he could spoon her from behind. Jack rested a hand over her breasts, which she took into her own, and traced his fingers.

“Long day?” she asked. She could feel him nod into her, a silent yes.

“Did you lose anyone?” she asked and felt his grip tense.

“She was only sixteen,” Jack sighed, “cheerleading accident.”

Elle kissed his hands and turned over, facing him. She touched the tip of her nose to his, and tenderly kissed his slender lips.

“You did everything you could,” she reminded him and he kissed her back, his tongue recognizing the taste of strawberries.

“I did,” he pulled her close, where she rested her head into the crook of his arm, which he held over his head, while he stared at the ceiling.

“I love you,” he whispered, he could feel her breath on his skin, labored. He looked down at her, asleep in his arms, and thought to himself, I don’t know what I’d do without you here.

Reviews/Comments always welcomed. This is a first for me; not the fan fics, but the content.

[islandpalm]

Hey Selah,

I haven't been here in a bit and look what I found, much to my surprise!

You know I feel nothing for Jack, but I could pretend that you wrote this about Sayid. LOL Just saw your avatar- why aren't you writing this about Sayid, girl?????

No, seriously, this is well done. It's not always easy to get the intimate scenes right and you got it.

And I love the photography details- the black and white images- the fact that Jack's facial hair made him appear his age. neat.

[Selah]

Originally Posted by islandpalm

Hey Selah,

I haven't been here in a bit and look what I found, much to my surprise!

You know I feel nothing for Jack, but I could pretend that you wrote this about Sayid. LOL Just saw your avatar- why aren't you writing this about Sayid, girl?????

No, seriously, this is well done. It's not always easy to get the intimate scenes right and you got it.

And I love the photography details- the black and white images- the fact that Jack's facial hair made him appear his age. neat.

hmm...maybe i'll go back and edit out jack stuff and make it sayid...i'm not a jack fan either, but since my OC had a one nighter with jack on-island...and b/c my numero uno fan Kat loves anything elle/jack related...but you're right...i could so write it about sayid...maybe i will tackle that one day but you my dear, write sayid so well...wink wink

so happy you enjoyed all the detail and photography elements! i have chapter 2 ready. hope you stop by again!

[Selah]

“He’s like a cowboy Casanova, leaning up against the record machine.”

James had had a long day. After a pulse-ridden speed chase through downtown L.A., he had apprehended the thief, after ramming his patrol car into the back of the coupe. The barely legal, man, exited, holding his head in a stupor, and cursed,

“What gives, man,” he held his head in his hands and Detective James Ford brandished his weapon,

“Hands up, Jughead,” the southern drawl escaped his lips and the perpetrator did as he was told.

“My mom’s going to kill me,” he looked downtrodden at the back-end of the car; it looked as if it was a tuna can, inside out.

“With every deserved right,” Ford cuffed the boy, nodded to his partner, Straume, and winked,

“Book ‘em Danno.”

“Yeah, that never gets old, Ford.” Miles snickered as he placed their perp into the backseat of the patrol car. James scribbled into his notepad the details of the chase, the incident, and then called in a tow truck to have the car impounded. It appears that the man, had stolen the car from his parents, knocked over a few convenient stores, and fled the scene, driving down a one way through Los Angeles. Ford and his partner, Detective Miles Straume just happened to be nearby, following up on a few tips from their recent case.

It was nearing five o’clock and all James wanted was to grab a beer, or two, head back to his spacious, yet, minimalistically furnished bachelor pad, and relax. Miles, however had other plans, and that included a night out on the town, throwing a few back, at a local pub. Barely having to twist his arm, Ford caved in and got into his car, followed Miles to the bar, and exited. He was wearing dark denim, leather boots, and a pale blue button down, with his faded leather jacket. James removed his shades, the setting of the California sun, was nearing effect, and whistled,

“Ladies’ Night,” he pointed to the banner that swayed in the warm, breeze.

“They say you should stick to your gut,” James turned on his heel and headed towards his car, “I knew this was a set up,” he pointed a figurative gun towards his partner, who was feigning shock, and pulled the trigger, “you’re a damn fool, Straume.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Miles shrugged, “but when was the last time you got any, Ford?”

James’ eyes narrowed; Miles had hit a sore spot. Ford growled,

“Last week with your sister,” he winked and clicked the unlock button on his keychain, the car beeping in response.

“Really, Ford, that’s all you got?” Miles laughed and pulled the keys from his partner’s hand, locked his car back up, and pocketed them.

“Maybe after you down a few, your comebacks will have some bite to them.” He patted James’ back and Ford grumbled,

“I’ll give you somethin’ that bites, Enos,” he chuckled but stopped as a woman caught his eye. She was wearing an emerald green silk top, with a v split that supported and revealed her tawny cleavage. Her form fitting jeans were met with a pair of black leather pumps, her slender fingers wrapped casually around a clutch. He followed the curve of her hips to the dip in her neck, and stopped short, as the woman laughed. Her dark eyes lit up like black diamonds, her wavy hair, was caught in the breeze. She was laughing at something the woman to her left with blonde hair was saying. As she continued to laugh, Ford smiled to himself.

She was the most beautiful woman he had laid eyes on; and he had laid eyes, hands, and lips, on quite a few. He knew he had to have her, hold her, move inside her, and his pulse quickened as he watched the duo enter the bar. He hadn’t felt like this ever; women were just that to him; a species to have fun with, get his hands on, but this one, she had left him speechless. A feat no other woman had accomplished. It was then he knew she was the one for him. As if some cosmic pull had turned her eyes from her friend, her eyes met his. Her eyes smiled, but her lips seemed to pull tightly together, as if they knew they would give her instant attraction to a stranger away. She casually let her head tilt to the side, almost a silent hello, and subconsciously bit her lower lip. They glance took only seconds but it felt like a James spent a lifetime in her eyes.

Miles hit him in the shoulder and snapped his fingers,

“Earth to Ford,” he snapped again, “Earth to Ford.”

“Miles,” James’ lips curled into a sly smile, “tonight just may be the night.”

“The night, huh,” Miles raised an eyebrow in question, “what night exactly?”

“The night I meet the woman I’ma marry.”

Miles let out such a guffaw that when he looked at the smile on James’ face, he had to stifle. His partner was serious. He turned his gaze towards the bar and noticed a glimpse of two women passing into the bar, the wooden doors, closing behind them. James patted Miles’ shoulder and pushed him towards the door,

“You up for being my wing man,” he winked.

“Dude if it gets you laid and less cantankerous, I’ll be whatever you want.”

“So now I’m cantankerous,” James shook his head, he couldn’t believe his ears. Then again, Miles never led him astray; so if the guy was saying he was less than sociable, than perhaps he was.

He slid his glasses into the opening in his shirt, removed his jacket, and walked towards the bar to order their drinks. Being a detective provided him with the ability to scour a room within seconds, noting the exits, the patrons, the ratio of men to women, and so on. He spotted her sitting at a high top table, with the other woman; her long legs were crossed under the wooden table, one heel hooked to the barstool’s rungs. She was talking animatedly; her hands were moving as fast as she was speaking. She round a loose curl around her finger, absentmindedly, and hooked it behind her ear. It fell free the moment she let it unfurl from her slender finger. A finger he noticed, that was free of jewelry. He took that as a positive sign, ordered two beers, and seconds for the women. The bartender, fell to his southern charm, and inadvertently told him that the brunette was drinking a vodka on the rocks, and the blonde was nursing a Midori sour. She also slipped his her number on one of the napkins. He smiled, thanked her, and casually slipped the napkin into his back pocket.

If he couldn’t pick up the brunette, the skinny bartender, with the tongue ring would be fine for a night. Just because he imagined spending his future life with a woman he only laid eyes on for a brief moment, he knew things never went as smoothly for him with the ladies as he led Miles and others to believe. The bartender had a body that screamed bend me and James had a love for a woman with long, pliable, legs.

He handed Miles the electric green Midori sour and instantly Miles knew Ford has his eyes and nether region set for the brunette. He had to admit, she was extremely attractive, but the blonde, her eyes screamed a vibrant blue and Miles was okay with being the wing man. With these odds, neither would be going home alone. Each man sauntered up to the ladies’ table and placed the drinks atop the small, round, table. The women instantly stopped mid chatter and looked at the men; they each eyed them respectively, trying hard not to do the typical eye scan, from shoes to eyes, but Elle couldn’t help herself. The man with the sandy, straw like hair was gorgeous. His eyes screamed from behind their glass green irises, yet his smile cooled her to the core.

“Ladies,” he pulled two barstools from surrounding tables, maneuvered them with ease, swung his jacket on a hook, just above Elle, and let his arm linger a moment, casually brushing his fingers down her bare arm. He felt her respond, instantaneously, small, bumps, rose on her skin, a light blush flowed to her cheeks.

“Smooth,” Elle regained her composure, and slid her stool away from James. He felt a knot in his stomach, but it unraveled as she motioned for him to pull his stool in closer.

“Elle,” she introduced herself and her manicured nails, taking his hand into her own. He smiled, revealing a perfect set of white pearly teeth, which shone brighter thanks to his bronzed skin.

“Ford,” he let his name linger, before adding, “James Ford.”

Elle couldn’t help but laugh. He was charming, she’d give him that, and he was insanely attractive, like a cowboy straight out of a harlequin novel, his jaw length hair, swung carefree, as he cocked his head to the side, and smiled, his hand outstretched, gripping her gently yet intensely. She immediately felt sorry, she didn’t mean to offend him, but he literally said his name as if he was auditioning to be Daniel Craig’s stand in; the latest Bond.

“Tell me you like your drinks shaken not stirred,” she winked and he chuckled. Miles too laughed and swatted his partner’s back for emphasis.

“He likes to think he is, but we’re just your average Joes, who just happen to carry a badge.”

The blonde spoke, intrigued, and turned towards Miles,

“You’re a cop?”

“Detectives,” Miles grinned and flashed his badge. James shooed him with his hand,

“What Miles is saying is that yes, we’re police officials, but not tonight.”

“Tonight we’re just civilians, like you, Elle, and Blondie here.”

“The name’s Lily,” the blonde rolled her eyes, “if you must call me anything, call me that.”

“My apologies, Lily,” James offered his hand, which she shook.

Miles and Lily began to chat amongst themselves, leaving Elle and James secluded to do the same. She was pleasant enough to talk to, he found, which made things easier for him. The last thing he wanted was a fine looking woman who only talked about her teacup poodle and the latest Hollywood couple. He found out she was a freelance photographer, who spent countless hours, taking pictures for the local newspaper. They talked and flirted for hours. He felt the need to be closer to her and when she didn’t move her stool away, he took that as a sign. He let his hand land casually on her thigh, as he spoke, and she found herself welcoming the strong fingers, that exuded such a fire, upon her skin. He didn’t reveal much about himself, she would later mull over, but at that moment, he was the illustrious stranger, girls were warned of when they were toddlers. Would she say no to this man’s candy? She let her fingers drape across his arm, tapping his muscular forearm, and when he slowly traced his hand upward on her leg, she closed her eyes for a second, her lips parted, and a slow sigh exhaled.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, “but I have to go,” she looked towards Lily and tried to get her attention. However, her sister was engaged in a bit of mouth to mouth, leaving Elle stranded in the moment.

“Was it something I said,” he held up his hands, offering his forgiveness. She bit her lower lip and shook her head. She avoided his eyes; it pained her to look into them. She fought internally with herself. She was here for Lily. She was supposed to be her sister’s wing woman, but instead she found herself shamefully flirting with this man. This man whose eyes searched her soul, whose hands, strong, yet callused, seemed to be reaching deeper into her soul, trying to unfold the curtains of her mind. She fidgeted with her clutch and rummaged around in it, until she pulled out something circular and shiny. She slipped it onto the left ring finger and found it hard to look him in the eyes.

Why did she feel so guilty, telling this stranger, that she was married? Why didn’t she feel guilty flirting with a man that was not Jack? Regardless of the answers, neither she felt comfortable with, she pushed her stool backward, knocking into the table behind her. She apologized to the young couple, stopped to look at James, who had stood up, as any gentleman would, and placed her right hand on his shoulder. She let her jeweled hand hang like deadweight at her side.

“I’m sorry,” she bit on her lip, “I never should have let things go this far.” She pleaded with her eyes, for him to just let her go, but he captivated her. His coke bottle green eyes rounded with desire, dilating as he made a move towards her. His unexpected touch was all he needed to cause her knees to slightly buckle.

“Elle,” he reached for her hand, and held onto it, squeezed her fingers, until both his and her hand were melded into one. She gasped at the electrical buzz that zapped through her skin and into her chest. Only Jack, she reminded herself, only he made her feel so alive in just one touch. Who was this man, this stranger, with the disarming smile, to make her feel this way; Jack’s way?

“James, I have to get home.”

“To your husband,” he gritted his teeth and when she nodded, he sighed, and pulled her closer to him. He reached up for her face and cupped her cheek in his hand, strumming his thumb in a semi circle, resting her head onto his shoulder. There was this solid connection, not only in the sensational touch of her hand, the glint in her eyes when she laughed, but the emotional connection; it was too much for him. It was as if he had the first taste, in this sense, a touch of pure unadulterated drugs, like acid, she left his heart fluttering and his body aching.

“Come home with me,” his warm, sweet, breath laced over her ear and he let his lips gently connect to her neck. To anyone on the outside, it would have appeared he had told her a secret. To Elle, it was as if he had offered her the world. She retracted from both his physical hold over her and the emotional one that appeared out of nowhere and hesitated.

“Goodbye James.” Her lips spoke the words but her body language, her eyes, voiced the opposite.

Then she turned from him, walked towards the exit, pushed open the door, breathed in the balmy air, and felt for the wall of the building to support herself. She couldn’t catch her breath as she walked towards the alley, slid her back against the cool stone wall, and slid to the ground.

James stood alone in the bar and despite the fact she had walked away, he knew one thing was certain; she had hesitated. A slow grin began to curl upon his lips.

She hesitated.