North of Normal

Chapter Twenty One

"Is this really necessary?" Chase asked plaintively.

Polly had to admit, she was having a tough time keeping it together.

The sight of Chase kneeling in front of her, with the sash from her fuzzy pink bathrobe tied around his eyes, was just such an exquisite Kodak Moment.

With the sash tied rakishly to the side, he looked like a sassy ninja warrior preparing for combat. Give him some nun chucks, and he was ready for battle...

"Yes," Polly said for the twelfth time. "It's necessary."

"I said I wouldn't peek," Chase argued as Polly surreptitiously removed her shirt and struggled to unclasp her bra.

"You did. But being, you know, a boy, I don't trust you where nudity is involved. It's part of the genetic make up of the Y chromosome, I think, to be unable to withstand the threat of nudity." Polly succeeded in shucking off her bra and tossed it aside. "Can you hand me my tee shirt?"

Chase felt around on the ground beside him, then proffered the shirt, accidentally bumping Polly's left breast with his right hand.

"Hey!" Polly squeaked, and Chase's hands dropped in alarm. "This isn't a Braille lesson!"

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I misjudged where your..."

"Hold that thought, mister," Polly instructed, pulling the shirt over her head and tugging it down. Her hands went to the waistband of her jeans, and at the sound of her rasping zipper, Chase's head snapped up.

"Need help?" He asked, his voice even but ever so slightly strangled.

"I got this part, thanks," Polly said dryly. She succeeded in unzipping, but now came the wriggling...

"Can you...grab these and tug them down?" She asked, almost giggling as Chase tried to find her legs like some absurdly blind version of Twister.

"Sure, let me just..." His hands skimmed up her covered calves, up to her thighs, his hands resting against her, a delicious weight separated only by denim...

"Lift up, kitten," Chase said in a cocky voice, making Polly laugh. "Show me whatcha got!"

Putting her hands on Chase's shoulders for balance, she managed to put her weight on her good leg and began to wriggle out of her jeans. Pitching forward slightly, she accidentally tugged the ninja wrap off of Chase's eyes.

Her eyes widened at her mistake, and she gave Chase immense credit for looking her in the eye first, rather than several feet lower.

"Sorry..." She whispered and he smiled.

"I'm not," He grinned, making her slap his shoulder playfully. "Mm... pink panties. Very nice. Okay, I'm going to try not to hurt you here..."

Chase's gentleman-like eyes dropped to the task at hand, giving her pink panties only a cursory glance. He carefully shucked the jeans off, quick to stabilize her injured ankle. "Okay?" he asked softly, finally freeing her from the jeans. Polly could finally understand what made him a good SEAL – when he had a mission, he was focused.

"That's time number two thousand and thirty-two you've asked," Polly joked, dying a thousand deaths as Chase grabbed her sleeping shorts and resumed his position.

"I'll try and mix it up next time. 'Y'alright, bitch?' may be more to your liking," Chase smiled, meeting her eyes and gesturing to his shoulders. "Lean on me again."

Polly rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned her weight forward as he threaded her feet through the holes of the shorts and slowly slid them against the skin of her legs, waiting until she rocked forward to tug them over her bottom, the warmth of his hands burning a trail from ankle to backside. Before she could sit back down completely, he gave her a small swat on the bottom.

"Hey!" She protested, biting back a smile.

"C'mon, I'm good, but I'm not a saint. I can't resist a cute pink pantied ass, can I?" Chase joked, rocking back on his heels and looking up at her, his expression changing from raffish to nervous. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you?"

"No, you didn't hurt me," Polly said softly, her words rife with meaning. He didn't hurt her ankle, he didn't hurt her emotions, and he didn't hurt her ego.

This was an important accomplishment.

"Thanks," she whispered, shivering slightly in the sudden change from jeans and sweatshirt to tee shirt and shorts.

Chase noticed and stood up. "I'll stoke the fire, and then head upstairs so you can get some sleep down here in the guest room."

She nodded, but said nothing, watching as he threw several more logs on the fire. He carefully helped her limp to the guest room bed, tenderly helping her lay down and tucking the covers around her. She was so,so, so tempted to ask him to sleep downstairs, near her, but it just didn't seem quite... right.

Needy, tacky, weak.

Ick.

Moments later, he straightened, ensuring that she was properly tucked in and comfortable. He dawdled over going upstairs – offering her a glass of water, stoking the fire again, tugging up the quilts – before finally retreating with a whispered "Good night, Polly."

She could hear him undressing upstairs, running water in the bathroom, and then the squeak of the bed as he lay down just one floor above her.

And that's when the whining began.

Polly lifted her head and saw Jack staring forlornly up the stairs Chase had just gone up, a whimper coming from his throat. A small whimper, and then louder, and louder, and louder and...

"Jack! Shut up!"

Polly giggled at Chase's tired-sounding voice, but Jack did not let up. His master was upstairs, and he wasn't. This was a crisis, and so the whining began again...

"Jack!"

She could hear Chase's feet hit the floorboards, hear him cross the room and peer down the stairs at Jack. "Shh, Jack. It's okay. Lay down."

Jack scrambled to his feet, stared at his master hopefully, and then tentatively lay down.

Chase re-crossed the room, got into bed, and the whining began again. Loudly.

Twice more Chase tried to reassure his dog that all was well in the world until Polly couldn't hold in the laughter anymore.

Moments later, Chase appeared from around the corner, looking agitated and dead sexy in his boxer shorts and a slight case bed head.

"I have a problem with the Wooddog..."