"Oh wow," Grace stretches, luxuriating in the blissful feel of tired muscles as they extend and relax. "That was incredible." With a grin, she turns to John who is lying next to her, staring at the ceiling. "Did you enjoy yourself honey?"
"Uh...yeah," John doesn't sound very sure as he nods.
"John?" Grace props herself up on her elbow and looks at him. "What's wrong?"
John's heart thumps as he looks at her. He doesn't want to upset her but he can't lie to her. "I don't know baby. I just...." he shakes his head, his eyes dark and uncertain. "I can't help this feeling that there's something missing. I don't even know what it is, it's just...." he trails off as he realizes exactly what it is.
There is no tenderness between them.
Part of what has made their relationship and their marriage so special is the love and tenderness that exists between them. Or *had* existed. Somehow, almost as if it was overnight, the tenderness and the affection has dissipated and he lies here, as if next to a stranger, with only the twin familiarities of her body and her scent to guide him.
"Maybe you're expecting too much," Grace says harshly as she lets her head fall back to the pillow with a soft whoomp. She's angry again now as she feels him, unmoving beside her. She's just had some of the best sex in living memory and yet somehow, she's not good enough for him?
Stefano's words come back to haunt her ....mind my warning about John Black. Be careful where he is concerned. He could cause us trouble... and her muscles tense. Maybe John's problem is that he is expecting a docile compliant Marlena. Grace is probably a little more than he bargained for.
"I just want *you* Doc," he says softly, confirming her suppositions. "I want it to be how it was between us. I miss you."
"Things have changed John," she says with as little malice as she can manage. She doesn’t want to tip her hand, not now. "*I've* changed. I'm doing the best that I can."
"I know you are, sweetheart." John rolls onto his side and reaches out to draw his index finger down the side of her face. "And I can't tell you how sorry I am that I hurt you so badly that you felt you *had* to change."
Grace closes her eyes as his gentle touch moves down over her shoulder. The feeling of his hands on her skin is like nothing she has ever felt before. She can’t explain it. She doesn’t *want* to explain it. She doesn’t even want to think about it.
All she knows is that when she is around him, she starts to feel out of control and that’s not something she wants to get used to. But a small voice inside her is beginning to question if that’s all it is. Because lying in his arms feels so damn good. Or it would do if it didn’t make her so freaked out.
"I love you Marlena. Maybe I don't tell you enough; maybe what I did makes you disbelieve it. But it's the truth." The anguish and the emotion in his voice are obvious, even to Grace and her fists curl into balls beneath the covers. The inner conflict is growing even as he speaks and she has to fight to not listen to his words. To tell herself that they are just that, words. And that he doesn’t really mean them. "I *love* you. I'll never stop loving you.
It’s too much for her and shrugging off his touch, Grace sits upright. Without looking at him, she drags the sheet from the bed and goes to the window. John watches her with hurt eyes as she twists the sheet around her body.
"I'm sorry," he says hesitantly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
She says nothing in reply and John feels his stomach churning again. "Doc?" He sits up. "Come back to bed honey." When she doesn't move, he sighs, the tiny indication of frustration and regret swelling in the space between them. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Everything I say seems to get me into trouble lately."
Grace turns back to him, but he can't see the expression on her face. All he can see is her body, outlined by the gleam of old streetlamps and draped in a hotel sheet, she looks like some kind of living Venus. She pauses for a long moment, drawing out the tension until it is almost unbearable and then she walks past the foot of the bed, towards the door.
"Where are you going?" John asks desperately. "Doc, you can't go, not now!"
She says nothing, but she crouches to pick up the purse, which lays abandoned and forgotten by the door. Staring at it, she has only one motive in mind. Revenge. She’s going to make him pay for deserting her…. For deserting Marlena and hurting her. God, she hates him just for the way he makes her feel when he looks at her and she wants to hurt him and make him suffer just for that alone….
"I'm not going," she tells him as she walks back towards the bed. Placing the purse on the bed stand, she climbs onto the rumpled sheets. "Not yet anyway. But you have to understand, John, things aren't how they used to be. They're *never* going to *be* how they used to be. When you slept with Hope," she shrugs, "it changed everything and we all have to live with that. *All* of us."
"You don't know *how* much I wish I could undo it, honey," his voice is choked as he leans back against the uncomfortable wrought iron bedstead.
"It's done," Grace shrugs again. "We need to get on with our lives."
"That's all I want Doc," John reaches out and takes her hand in his. "Just for you and I to get past this and move forward. Together."
"Well," Grace shakes her head so that her hair rustles gently. "You need to realize that the playing field has changed. *You* don't make the rules any more." She slowly unwinds the sheet as she edges closer to him. "Now we're making them up, as we go…"
John starts with surprise as she moves astride his hips and leans over to kiss him. He responds immediately to the feel of her mouth on his and the caresses of her hands over his chest. She begins to move her hips again and he groans immediately as the stimulation brings him to immediate arousal.
He is so consumed with the way she feels that he fails to notice that she has pulled her purse off the nightstand.
"That's right," she whispers against his ear as her warm hair falls around his face. "You see John, *this* time, I'm going to get what I want."
"What is it you want, Doc?" he grunts as she sucks deliberately on his earlobe and he misses the sound of a small click to the left of him.
"I want…." She drags her tongue down over his throat and he tips his head backwards. "I want to play a game."
John's head jerks around as he feels the snap of cool metal around his wrist. "What the -?" By the time he realizes that he is handcuffed to the bedstead, Grace has his other wrist similarly confined.
"Marlena!" He yanks on the cuffs but they only bite into his skin as the bedstead shakes slightly. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Playing." Grace grins wickedly and John's blood runs suddenly icy. He feels like he's trapped in some sort of nightmare where a stranger wears Marlena's face and he can't wake up.
"This game is called 'see how it feels when you think you have something, only to find out you never really had it at all'." Grace stares down at him, her hands still trailing over the soft hair that covers his chest. She feels much better now, back in control and the look on his face just makes everything perfect. "You know, it's too bad…." she says, almost as though to herself. "The sex really was great."
"What are you talking about Doc?" John demands desperately. "What's going on?"
Grace sighs as she climbs off him and checks her purse to make sure her keys are still there. "You *really* don't get it, do you?"
"Get *what*?" John strains to look at her as she swings her legs off the bed and retrieves her dress from the floor. But his jaw goes slack with realization as he sees the gown in her hands.
"You *really* thought I'd come *back* to you?" she laughs cruelly. "After what you did to me? You *really* thought I was going to come back and be your door-mat so you could walk all over me again?" She shakes her head as she slips the dress over her hips.
John can only stare at her as she fastens the halter neck of her dress at the nape of her neck and pulls out the few stray locks of hair that have gotten caught underneath it. Doing up the zip at the side of the dress, she smooths the golden fabric over her thighs and then looks at him.
"Make the most of it, John," she says coldly. “It’s the last time you’ll be seeing my body.”
"So this was what?" he asks hoarsely. "Some kind of twisted *revenge*?"
"You could certainly call it that," she shrugs as she goes to the mirror and pins her hair up. "It was enjoyable revenge though." She grins. “At least for me, anyway.”
"All this…" he looks around the room and then up at the handcuffs that chain him to the bed. "Dinner, everything was part of a plan to make me *suffer*?"
"That about covers it babe," Grace turns back to him with a smirk on her face. "You have to admit that it was rather inspired."
"*Inspired*?" John stares at her in shock. "Are you crazy?"
"No," Grace shakes her head with a delighted grin. "I *was* bitter, but I rather think I'm over that now."
She picks up the phone and waits till the receptionist answers. "HI there, this is Dr. Evans in 412. I'd like to order a taxi please." She pauses as the receptionist confirms her request and then she drops the receiver on the table next to the phone. John can hear the beep as it disconnects and he stares up at her, comprehension and disbelief written all over his face.
"Doc, you can't-"
"Who says?" she goes to the door and picks up her shoes. "I rather think I *can*, and what's more, I *am*.
"Doc, you can't *leave* me here," he says frantically. "You can't *do* this."
"Well… bye honey!" She opens the door and then turns around. "It was fun." Just to rub it in even further, she blows him a kiss and then she exits the room.
"Marlena!!" his voice is muffled as she pulls the door to and she is careful to hang a request for maid service on the handle.
"MARLENA!!!" His voice follows her down the corridor, only fading when she reaches the elevator.
As the doors slide closed, she allows herself the luxury of a throaty chuckle.
She hopes he's not found too soon. That wouldn't do at all. She wants him to have a nice long period of confinement, one in which he can reflect on all the wrongs he has done her.
As it happens, it is unfortunate for John that this is a very quiet month in Salem. The only other guests on the third and forth flours of the Salem Inn are either too far away to hear him, or else they are fast asleep with the aid of some fairly potent pharmaceuticals.
“Ahhh John,” she leans back against the wall her shoes dangling from her hand as she closes her eyes. “Stefano was right, you certainly presented more of a challenge than I though you would.” She takes a deeply satisfied breath and opens her eyes. “But you should know that no-one ever beats me.” She draws her hand sensually over her shoulder, her skin still warm from the lovemaking and smiles. “No-one.”