DISCLAIMER : This story refers to characters and concepts from the television show "The Sentinel," which do no belong to me. /sigh/ No profit has been made from the writing of this story. It was created expressly for fans of "The Sentinel" who can't get enough romantic fanfic about Jim and Blair.

A vagrant breeze slipped between the light curtains at the open bedroom window and danced across the redhead's sweating brow. It lifted the damp tendrils of hair at her temples and gently stirred her fine curls.

"God! I love your hair!" Jim Ellison's voice was husky with desire. "It's like silk." /gasp/ "Warm. Soft. Living silk." Little panting breaths punctuated each word. "I want to bury myself in it."

She closed her eyes and arched upward. She wondered fleetingly if Ellison was truly aware of the sexual power of his voice. It was heavy and sensual, potent with barely articulate ardor, and it sent her senses reeling with the eroticism of its cadence.

Brenda felt her wildly beating heart speed up as he continued musing aloud. "And your skin is so hot and satiny... when I touch you here..." She spread her legs wide. "...and here... and here, inside."

She gasped as a ball of untamed fire exploded in the pit of her stomach. Quickly she shoved the back of her hand into her mouth and bit down on it to stifle the moan threatening to escape her lips as she felt warm liquid begin to ooze from between her legs.

"Yeah, baby," Jim groaned. "Hot! So very hot! You're ready for me, aren't you? Ready and raring to go... Tell me..." His breathing was becoming increasingly ragged. "Tell me you want me too. Tell me you want me inside you. Invite me in, Baby."

Her ears were filled with the booming of her tumultuous heartbeat. It was so loud that it blocked out all other sound. The nerve endings in her skin began to tingle, her whole body becoming a single overly sensitive erogenous zone. Psychedelic bursts of color paraded across the insides of her tightly closed eyelids.

"Yes, oh yes!" Brenda thought. She was so taut and aroused that the bands of muscle across her chest locked and she couldn't expel the air from her lungs. "Take me! Oh, take me, Jimmy," she mouthed silently.

Wildly she delved inside herself for the energy to break the bond, to respond as the roaring of the blood in her veins overwhelmed her. Then something snapped inside, and suddenly she was free to move again -- to respond to that extraordinary, intoxicating masculine voice as her hearing faded back in.

"Love you! Love you! Love you!" he repeated over and over, the head of the bed thumping against the wall in time with his words. "Mine," he groaned. "Mine, mine, mine!"

She threw her head back, baring her throat to the steamy summer air, and her body spasmed into a strained arc, like a bow drawn to full capacity. Rhythmically she thrust her pelvis upwards, seeking to impale herself to the fullest on a hard, hot rod of flesh.

"Jimmmmmmmmm..." It was a primal wail, drawn from deep in the gut and wrenched outward with a wild, unfettered abandon.

"Jimmmmmmmmm..." Brenda echoed silently, her inner muscles clenching around -- nothing. Still the orgasm tore through her, bringing her body to frustrated completion.

Shuddering, the woman fell back on her rumpled mattress. Still without opening her eyes, she crumpled into a fetal ball, drawing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around her thighs as she rested a tear-stained cheek against her knees. Quietly she began to rock herself and hum in a tuneless monotone to block out the sound of the soft, satiated voices from the loft next door.

That was the hardest part of it -- listening to their quiet, loving voices as the two men whispered endearments before drifting off to sleep in each other's arms... while she lay in her lonely bed on the other side of the wall and took turns envying first one and then the other.

Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg were so in love that the outside world barely existed for them. Oh, they smiled and nodded and spoke pleasantly to the other tenants at 852 Prospect Street. But they were so wrapped up in each other that they were totally unaware of the overtones in their neighbours' reactions to them. It never seemed to dawn on them that the noises old Mrs. Middleton was always complaining about coming from their apartment were the wails and cries of their loud, uninhibited love-making. They were equally oblivious to the indulgent smiles of the newly-weds from across the hall, who were almost as 'noisy' as the two men were. And neither one of them seemed to notice that their next-door neighbour, one Brenda Gellar, looked upon them with barely concealed lust in her eyes.

Finally she uncurled herself and staggered to the bathroom for a quick shower. As she stood in the tub with the cool water cascading over her head, Brenda vowed once again that she was going to get over this blind infatuation for the two beautiful men. And just as every time before when she'd made the same vow, she realized she was lying to herself.

She reached out and adjusted the water temperature just a bit colder.

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