Firing Range
You slip the letter into your purse, check yourself one last time in the mirror, and begin the dreaded drive. You feel like such a schmuck, so much so you didn't even tell Oliver where you were going today. Your scores at the range have been consistently low since the injury you sustained to your wrist at the costume ball. Your employers have informed you that if you do not attend and complete this remedial session, you will no longer be assigned to missions with firefight potential. That means desk job, which means you are no longer Oliver's partner, which means here you are schlepping out on an ungodly hour on a Monday morning.
You park your car and get out. There are no other cars in the lot. You enter the building. "Hello?" The echoed clicking of your heels is the only sound you can hear. It is almost purposely quiet. You begin to feel very uneasy. You reach into your purse, take the safety off your sig sauer and grip the handle, still keeping it hidden. "Hellooo?" Faster than you can see, a hand clamps over your mouth from behind.
As you are about to pull the gun out, you hear a familiar English voice speak, "If I could just sneak up on you this easily, you really do need the remedial course." Assured now of your assailant's identity, you elbow him firmly in the stomach. A loud "OOF" accompanies your release and you pivot to find Oliver holding his arms over his injury. "What'd you do that for?"
"I only wish it had been lower. What the hell are you doing here?!"
Oliver gathers to his full height and smirks. "I'm your instructor."
"Oh great. Maybe I should use this damn thing on myself and save us the afternoon?"
"Oh come on, we'll get you back up to speed. Then you can appease the allmighties. Course, in order to pass the class you'll have to sleep with the teacher."
"I hate you," you say smiling as he slips his arm around your shoulders and walks you out of the room.
You put on your ear protection and empty a clip into the target. You sit your gun on the counter and try not to fall over laughing when you see where all your shots have hit. You slip off the headset.
"Um...nice grouping...although," Oliver points to the target, "I hate to think who you were thinking about at the time. I, uh...I did put the seat down on the toilet and the cap back on the toothpaste this morning, yes?"
You blow on the barrel of your gun, "Guess you'll find out when we get home...won't ya?" He clears his throat and adjusts his collar dramatically. You giggle and turn back to the counter. You remove the expended clip and slap in a new cartridge. Oliver moves behind you, his arms coming around and sliding up your own. You turn to look at him and arch your eyebrow.
"What? I'm supposed to be teaching you."
"Yes, but teaching me what?"
"Oh come on, concentrate." He directs his attention to the range again.
When you face the target once more, Oliver grinds himself suggestively against your backside. You jump and accidentally squeeze off a shot that hits the target in its would-be eye. "Oliver!" He is laughing.
"Okay Love here," He slides his hands up your arms again and helps you to line up the shot. You fire and hit it square in the heart. "Good girl. Now, support the weak wrist and don't think about it." He takes his hand off yours but remains pressed tightly against you. You fire and make the shot. You finish the rest of the clip in a similar manor.
As you place your gun on the counter, Oliver smiles at you. He takes your hand in his. "Well my dear, I think you're cured." He bends your hand so that he can kiss it. Unfortunately, it is the injured one which is still a little sensitive and you yelp in pain. This startles Oliver, who winces, realizing what he just did. "Oh Love, I'm sorry." He straightens your wrist, rubbing it soothingly, planting kisses on your hand and working his way up your arm.
"Oliver, we should stop." That probably would have sounded more convincing if it didn't come out breathy from your excitement and if you could wipe the smile off your face.
"So stop me," he lifts you to sit on the counter, sliding your gun away to give you more room. "Come on, I'm the bad guy," he nibbles on your lip then licks the indentation left by his teeth, "take me down." Your heart is drumming wildly and your capture his lips with your own. Moments later you pull back and look into his eyes. "I hope you haven't been doing this with everyone we've gone after." He smiles. "You haven't have you?"
"Oliver?"
"Yes Love?"
"Shut-up." You use the counter to push off and drop him to the ground with you landing on top. He grins brightly as you kiss him again......
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| The character of Oliver Sampson and the show VR.5 were created by John Sacret Young and are © Samoset Productions and Rysher Entertainment. No infringement is intended and no profits are being made. |