Platypus 13: Oh Boy

“Can I keep him?”

Catherine looked at Gil and replied: “He’s evidence.”

Gil frowned. “Don’t forget to feed him.”

“I know. Wood.”

He smiled, watching her watch her video feed. Her brow furrowed as she concentrated, while she absentmindedly nibbled on her lip.

She didn’t turn from the screen when she spoke: “I can feel you looking at me. What is it?”

“Your hair,” he smiled, reaching out and brushing his fingers through the shorter locks. He liked her hair before, but this was really attractive, too.

“What about it?”

He let his hand run down, onto her shoulder, and down her arm to connect with her hand, pulling it from the keyboard. “It’s very nice.”

She paused the tape, turned, and smiled. “Thank you. I’m surprised you’d even notice.”

“I’m more observant than you think, Cath,” he responded dryly. “I do notice things. Like when Sara straightens her hair, I notice. When Greg wears an ironed shirt, I notice. When you cut your hair...” he trailed off to gulp nervously. “Or look at me like that, I can’t help but notice.”

She squeezed his hand. He couldn’t help but think there was something wrong; she had been distant all day, and when he tried to get her attention, she wasn’t the same. Something had changed. It bothered him. “Good.” she glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh, shoot. I’m late. I have to meet with Paul.”

Gil actually thought his heart stopped. “Paul?”

“You know, Paul Newsome, the District Engineer.”

“No,” he frowned. “I don’t know.”

She shrugged. “Figures. He’s the guy in charge of the inspection of that building. Blame points to him. He swears it wasn’t negligence.” She sighed. “I suppose I’m going to have to save his ass somehow.”

“Where are you two meeting?”

“Here. Why?”

“Just wondering,” he replied, dropping his eyes from hers. It didn’t seem like anything was going on, but he wasn’t sure. “Did you want to go out for coffee later?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Sounds good.” She stood up, but he didn’t let go of her hand; he was almost afraid to let her go, as if she was planning on running away. There was something in the way his name came from her lips that didn’t sit well with him. “Gil, honey, I really need my hand if I’m going to leave the— Ooops!” He had tugged her into his lap. “Gil... we’re in an office.”

“I know,” he nodded. “One kiss.”

“It’s never one kiss.”

“So?” He lifted a hand and directed her head gently towards his so their lips could touch. Her hand curled into his chest, her lips parted, and she sighed. He felt his pulse quicken and he knew they had to stop, or she’d really be late.

She knew, too. “I’ve got to go...”

“I know.”

“When you’re free... come let me know. I’ll take you out to eat.”

“As long as I get to pick the restaurant,” she grinned, killing him with her smile. She kissed him chastely, and got up, letting her fingers linger over his shoulder. He watched her leave, and felt the distinct pangs of jealousy.

To his surprise, she popped her head back in the room. She didn’t say anything, which also surprised him. Catherine’s smile returned, and she blushed a little. They stared at each other for at least a few minutes, but she left again.

Gil stared at the doorway, confused.


Paul Newsome was beginning to grow on her. When he first suggested the idea, she snorted it off, disgusted with his arrogant attitude. But, he was, despite every attempt she made against it.

“Am I off the hook?”

She turned. “Yes. Anything you want to say to me?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble and not made me a suspect in the first place.”

She wanted to kick him in the shins. Hard. “You’re welcome.”

Breezing past him, she exited the room. She wanted to find Gil. He’d be able to counteract these feelings of lust and loathing; in him, she sought lust and love. Paul grabbed her arm on the stairs. “I wasn’t going to say thank you.”

“You should’ve,” she responded, trying to keep her smile off her lips.

He smirked. “Have coffee with me tonight.”

“No, thank you.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I have a daughter, a night shift, and actually,” she smiled. “I don’t like coffee that much.”

He reached into his coat and produced a tiny business card. “My home number’s on the back, Catherine. I’d really love it if sometime you’d call. Even just to talk.”

She nodded. “Maybe.”

“Good.” He leaned in close; briefly, she thought he was going to kiss her lips, and for that, he’d earn a loud slap to his cheek. Instead, he kissed her cheek, and she found herself enjoying it. “It was a pleasure to work with you.”

“Uh huh.” Catherine stayed where she was, her body humming. She knew she couldn’t go and see Gil; guilt wasn’t an aphrodisiac. She waited on the stairs, letting her body level off. She took several deep breaths, shook her body out, and started reminding herself of all the great things Gil had done for her lately, and why he was perfect for her.

“But it’s not love,” she groaned, running a hand through her hair. “Oh boy,” she shook her head. “Am I ever in trouble.”

Eventually, she worked up the courage to return to the break room, where she would have to complete the paperwork for the building. She wanted to get that out of the way, so she could put Paul Newsome out of mind.


She looked up; he had gotten to her, before she even touched her paperwork. “Hey, Gil.”

“How’d the experiment go?”

“It worked,” she pasted a smile on her face. “It proved the airplanes and sound waves were the cause.”

“I’m proud of you,” he smiled at her. “Good work. Time for coffee?”

She nodded. “Can I just go wash my hands first?”

“Sure,” he said, and together they walked to the bathroom.


He watched her bend over the sink, in the tiny room, from the open door. She looked like she was under some sort of stress. Her shoulders were tense, and her breathing was irregular—not the long, calm breaths she usually took.

He walked into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. He briefly considered locking the door, but wanted to go out with her; sometimes being out in the open with her was worth more to him than anything they did behind closed doors. His hands sought her shoulders, and from his position, he could massage her weary back.

“That feels so good,” she sighed. He noticed that immediately, she relaxed. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he responded, bending to place a kiss on her neck. She shivered and leaned into him. When she eventually turned to face him, he knew they weren’t going out for coffee. “Cath?”

“Wanna lock the door?” She asked hopefully. “I’ve never done it in here before.” She wriggled her eyebrows, mischief glowing in her eyes. “The locker room bathroom. Oooooh.”

Gil chuckled, reaching with his hand to push the doorknob in. It clicked, the door now unopenable from the outside. He turned back to face her, and found himself attached to her lips.

The kiss didn’t start off sweet and slow, heading immediately into fast-paced and passionate. He had to hold onto her to keep her from racing off without him. She pulled her sweater over her head, and tossed it onto the floor. Luckily, the room had just been cleaned, and it wasn’t so much a public bathroom.

When she reached for his pants, he stopped her. “Are you sure you want to do this in here?”

“Very sure,” she said, before flicking his earlobe with her tongue. “I’ll even treat you to coffee... just let me...”

He knew something was wrong, but by this time, she had him so wrapped up in their actions, that he didn’t know how to stop her and find out what had happened. Her words were like those of the beginning of their relationship: “just let me... lose myself”

“Stop thinking,” she smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And help me out of these pants.”

He smiled. “Lift, then.” When she lifted her weight off the sink’s counter, he tugged the pants down. Then, she jumped up so she was sitting on the sink, and together they removed her pants and shoes.

He pushed her underwear aside, and entered her. She gasped and moaned at first, but when they found a rhythm they could keep up, she fell silent. He tried to not be so vocal, out of fear that someone would come into the locker room and hear them.

Reaching their climax took very little time; they helped each other, and when each release came, they cried out into each other’s shoulder. Catherine was first, then Gil.

She looked up at him, her eyes glazed over. Her body trembled, still, so he held onto her to give her support. “That was just what I needed.”

He nodded, kissing her forehead. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Want to tell me what had you so tense?”

She shook her head. “It’s over now. I’m fine, you’re fine... actually you’re mouthwatering drop dead handsome,” she winked, kissing him before talking again. “Let’s go get coffee. My treat.”

He helped her down off the counter, and she started finding her clothes. Gil was straightening himself out, too. He splashed cold water on his face, and dried off, hoping that would cool him down somewhat.

She turned and looked at him, fully dressed. “All set?”

“Yes,” he nodded, putting his hand on the door knob. She listened for any noise outside the door, but heard nothing. She nodded, and they opened the door. No one was there, so they stepped out together and left the locker room.

Neither Gil or Catherine noticed Paul Newsome’s business card lying on the ground where her pants had been.

And, neither Gil or Catherine noticed Warrick, who had been digging something out of one of the boxes on the shelf, but stopped when he had seen them exit the bathroom together.

The End!

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