Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy, et al.

So ... I can't believe I am posting this here, Sheila … this is for you girl (she wants a complete list of my stuff on this site … so I aim to please, you heard it here first), though this fic still was written for my good friend Jeni, who was brilliant enough to send this song to me once, a long, long time ago!

SO … the song … the song … the song!

These guys are fanatical; you can check them out on HBO (hilarious, bright, ingenious and ballsy are just some of the words that come to mind when I think of this duo), Flight of the Conchords. This song, "Business Time" remains one of my favorites. Try a search on youtube, you'll love them!

This story has six parts in all, one part for each male character … all erotic, all wild and all suss-tastic in their own rite ... think of this story as sort of a vision of the future, given the characters' historical facts through Season 5, which was when this story was constructed. I truly hope you enjoy!

###

Lyrics for Flight of the Conchords' "Business Time":

Ahh yeah, that's right baby

Girl, tonight we're gonna make love

You know how I know baby?

Cuz its Wednesday, and Wednesday night is the night that we make love.

Tuesday night is the night that we go and visit your mother, but

Wednesday night is the night that we make love.

Cuz everything is just right, conditions are perfect.

There's nothing good on TV, conditions are perfect.

You lean in close and say something sexy like, "I might go to bed I've

got work in the morning."

I know what you're trying to say baby.

You're tryin' to say, "Ooh yeah, it's business time, it's business time."

Chorus (Both)

It's business, its business time!

(That's what you're trying to say, you're trying to say let's get down to business.)

Its business time.

Its business, its business time!

That's what you're tryin' to say, you're tryin' to say let's get down to

business it's business time!

Ooh, Next thing you know were in the bathroom brushing our teeth.

That's all part of it. That's foreplay.

Then you go sort out the recycling, that's not part of it but its still

very important.

Then we're in the bedroom. You're wearing that ugly old baggy

t-shirt from that team building exercise you did for your old work,

and it's never looked better on you.

Mmmhh, team building exercise not tonight. Oh you don't know

what you're doing to me. I remove my jeans but trip over them

cuz I've still got my shoes on, but then I turn it into a sexy dance.

Next thing you know I'm down to just my socks and you know

when I'm down to just my socks what time it is. It's time for

business. It's business time.

Chorus (Both)

Its business, its business time!

(You know when I'm down to just my socks it's time for business,

that's why they call them business socks.)

Its business, its business time!

Ooh, makin' love, makin' love for two, makin' love for two minutes.

When it's with me you only need two minutes, cuz I'm so intense

Two minutes in heaven is better than one minute in heaven.

You say something like, "Is that it?"

I know what you're trying to say, you're trying to say, "Ahh yeah that's it."

Then you tell me you want some more

Well I'm not surprised, but I'm quite sleepy.

Chorus (Both)

Its business, its business time!

(Business hours are over, baby)

Its business, its business time.

It`s business, it`s business time!

###

Business Time – Part 1 – Richard Webber

Richard Webber took another sip of his seltzer and looked around the makeshift poker table situated off the dining room of his brand new two-bedroom luxury apartment. As his eyes met each of his opponents – he realized he had no idea what he was doing – and this poker game wasn't exactly what he was referring to because – poker faces were not his to read or to portray (evidenced by his not-so-secret affair with Ellis Grey long ago) – no, Richard Webber was no poker player, for he couldn't bluff worth a damn, not to mention he had wavering eyes and shaky hands … outside the OR anyway.

His eyes fell on Derek Shepherd, 'Shep' – student had certainly become teacher in this relationship – he mused, pressing his lips together in a tight smile now, inwardly sighing at all they had been through together in the many years they had worked together. Looking at this happy man before him – now married to Meredith Grey-Shepherd – he was the best de facto son-in-law a man could ask for; he sighed again, inwardly swelling with pride and relief. Derek had certainly grown up … he was bright, articulate, caring – a wonderful father and an adoring husband – and in many ways he embodied everything Richard ever wanted for himself. And now with the Board's pending approval, Derek was also destined to become the next Chief of Surgery – a position they would share for eighteen months – after Richard returned from what he hoped would be the 'business' trip of his lifetime.

He only prayed to God that she would agree to come with him.

Derek smiled from ear to ear now, having just ousted the ballyhoo of Mark Sloan's 'winning hand', the old friends sparred silently now, each taking sip of their shared poison of choice: scotch. Sloan, true to form, lacked focus to be a true player – well, not that he wasn't a 'player' – in the true sense of the word – he defined the term 'player' – his sexual prowess, legendary to the point where the man was an enigma only to himself while he was hated by a lion's share of the hundred or so nurses on staff at Grace. Except that all that changed when he met his match in Callie Torres – and Richard couldn't have been happier – because if Callie did anything, it was him a favor by keeping Mark out of trouble and in the OR where he belonged – and home with her at night – for the early stages of her pregnancy had not been kind and Mark had become dutiful in his care of his woman, so much so that he almost bailed on this evening's activities. Almost.

The next man in formation was Owen Hunt – after having gotten off to a rough start a few years ago – the man had truly come into his own and in the end there was a substance to Owen Hunt – his substantial character, his innate ability to see clearly in a crisis, to rise above the petty –all of these traits and more that Richard came to appreciate in Owen, admiring him for his inner strength and sanctity and his outward rebellion and weak smiles – yes, he was complex man, he was downtrodden at times – but he persevered over the years and now sat across from him puffing wild circles of cigar smoke into the air above them, all the while trying to steal a peek at the hand of his 'right hand man', George O'Malley who glared at his comrade, silently challenging him to a duel. Owen cackled like the devil with a bright mischievous smile – one that covered his face and even reached his eyes – flanked now by a new band of brothers, yes the man who sat across from him was happy. Richard reflected on Owen's accomplishments for a beat – with his ER running better than ever before and of course the love of his good, strong woman – the rare free love of Cristina Yang, it was true Owen Hunt had a lot to be happy and carefree about. He blew another large plume of smoke over O'Malley again –smoke and daggers – but the two men only laughed like devils at his mediocre diversion tactic.

George O'Malley waved his free hand through the smoke and took a long sip of his beer. Richard was surprised the sergeant even consented to come for this inaugural gentlemen's evening – as he often spent much of his free time at work, now a full time resident down in the pit – saving countless lives and OR hours with his dedication and tenacity to work fast and find solutions where oftentimes others found none. He was bright man – and there were times when Richard didn't think he was going to make it – yes, there were times, trying times for O'Malley, after his father's death and his short-lived marriage to Torres, Richard had almost prepared himself for the man to up and quit. But that's the thing … he never did – for O'Malley's don't quit – they rise above, they're from good stock and then of course there was Owen – he saved the man without even trying – he gave him hope and direction through his tutelage and in the end, that's all he really needed. Now, if he could only tell Lexie Grey how hopelessly in love with her he was … maybe he could find some happiness outside of the ER. Richard watched him thoughtfully now – he was going to win this hand, despite Karev's best efforts to snuff him out – yeah, if he'd put money on any of these jokers, it would be O'Malley.

Alex Karev sat in between he and George – now a beyond brilliant OB surgeon – his calculated risk-taking had proved time and time again that he could save lives before they were even living and breathing free entities. In this game and many others, he'd be the one to give O'Malley a run for his money for sure – the two younger gentlemen had always been at odds – but in the last few years had become accepting of one another, long gone were the days of slap fights in the middle of the wilderness. There's another one who Richard thought wouldn't make it – with his dark and twisty side – he thought for sure Karev would tank somewhere along the line …somehow drown himself in the misery of every life he couldn't save. But he didn't – he saved instead – yes, Karev, with his well-toned muscles and wrestler's physique was the type of man who could pick someone up and carry them out of their worst nightmare. He'd fallen in love, deeply in love with Isobel Stevens perhaps even that first year – that year of the horrific LVAD wire debacle (the year Ellis came back and only died later, the year Meredith came back into his life) – what year and a lifetime ago that was. And throughout it all Karev stayed strong. Back then he was in it for himself, but as he grew Richard noticed subtle little changes in his character, the softening of bedside manner, the way he became an advocate for his patients. All preparing him for an even bigger challenge – Izzie's battle with cancer – for by then he was stronger in so many other ways. For her battle with cancer was one fought by everyone on the team – emotionally, medically, physically, spiritually – and yes, she had survived and in the end but it was Alex who had carried her out of the mess – his love for her never faltered – a fact O'Malley (still Izzie's best friend) had finally accepted when the two lovers had remarried in a simple ceremony, in which O'Malley gave her away … again.

Richard smiled brightly just thinking now about that day a couple of years ago, that second wedding day – yes, there was so much to be happy about – he recalled feeling centered and grounded for the first time in a long while, the bright and happy faces of his young friends and colleagues were enough to know they somehow made it to the other side of all the tragedy. He glanced down at his hand one last time before an uproarious boyish laughter brought him back to the task at hand. O'Malley had won, hands down, pardon the pun. Richard threw his cards down on the table and watched the fellas for a moment longer – red smiling faces, bright cheerful eyes, wild with laughter, drinks in hands, peanut shells everywhere – carrying on now as Owen dealt the next round.

"It's 'business time' fellas," Owen said as he flipped the cards down for the players. "Put your money where your mouth is O'Malley," he sneered with a bit of mischief.

Richard held his hand up. "I'm sitting this one out," he chuckled weakly, suddenly needing a moment alone – 'business time' – yes, the time for business had come, to take charge, to take care of it once and for all … he only hoped she would give him a chance.

"Fire in the hole!" Owen retorted, swiping the cards back up to deal again.

"First man down!" Mark howled; slapping his hand down on the table, his eyes dancing as his crack hung in the recycled air all around them.

"I'll be back," Richard muttered, shaking his head. "I'll be back," he repeated, pushing his chair back from the table, he rose and nodded to Shepherd who eyed him carefully.

"You alright Chief?" George asked circumspectly before he quickly glanced over his cards, planning his next move already.

"Yeah … yeah," he found himself saying, although he barely bought the lame reply himself – see, poker player he was not – he thought as he swiped empty from the card table before he turned absently away to make a swift exit and walked into the kitchen to fill his glass. He stopped when he entered the room – for it was a kitchen that only a chef of a five-star restaurant could be proud of – but like the dining room, he spent no time in this space, there was no one to make a meal for, to share a meal with. How did this happen, he wondered again as the conversation from the poker table filtered into his private space.

"Dude, he's got it bad," came Alex's voice.

"You know, I was thinking … the last time he had one of these gentlemen things was when he was living out on your land," Mark offered pointedly. "So, what gives?" he wondered.

"Look, he finally moved in here, it's a big step, a big admission," Derek defended. "His marriage is over –"

"But he asked Adele to go away with him, he must be anxious about her reply –" George interjected.

"You knew about that?" Derek asked incredulously.

"He told me … wait, was that some big ass secret?" George heaved. "Damn it!" he hissed.

"Apparently not…," Derek mused.

"Well, he didn't tell me!" Mark retorted.

"Dude, what would you have said to the man?" Karev laughed. "Offered your services as his wing man –"

"I already did that, a long time ago … plus – I've moved on – or grown up … or …," his voice trailed off.

"Don't even try it Sloan – you've been aching to get out lately – and since when do you turn down a drunken night of debauchery, don't even go there," O'Malley answered smugly.

"He's got a point, it's not our fault Callie's lost her sex drive – it's yours …," Owen offered pointedly.

"That's true, but she keeps blaming me!" Mark defended himself. "Hello? It takes two to … you know!" he boomed.

"Don't even talk to me about it – I've been there, twice – and I keep saying she'll come around, just give her a few more days, I'm telling you, your lucky thirteen weeks is right around the corner," Derek countered.

"So you've said, and then what – poof – the sex drive just comes back? I don't buy it!" he exclaimed.

"It can – and it might – that's all I'm saying," Derek offered. "And this, I'll say this – the Chief's trying here, really trying to be happy – and I think he asked Adele to go on this trip to solidify something," he elaborated.

"Derek, it's been years!" Mark chastised. "What's there to solidify?" he asked; his voice subdued, serious now.

"Yes, it has – but it doesn't change it for him – all the shit still happened and he still has to deal with the fallout and maybe – maybe he needed this one last chance – without other factors in the way … to ask … to take back something that was lost …," Derek countered, his tone softer now too.

The men were quiet for a moment before Richard heard the cards shuffling – small words and easy voices from the players, the tempo had changed, the subject was dropped – the game had resumed and he was off the hook, for now. Derek's words hung in the cobwebs of Richard's mind now though – yes, he wanted to solidify something – he wanted Adele to know he was serious, that he meant business, that he wasn't ready to give up – despite their divorce, despite their sordid history – he wasn't ready to call it quits. On that note, he also decided he wasn't ready to rejoin the festivities so he turned away from the doorway and slipped into the hallway instead. He made his way down to his bedroom – his feet sinking into the new plush carpet – as he walked through the French doors and closed them after him. He heaved a sigh filled with relief – his eyes sinking into the 'soothing, masculine tones' – used by his interior designer as he pressed his back against the doors in an effort to hold himself upright.

Breathe in, breathe out, he coached himself.

Once he regained his equilibrium, he crossed the room and stood before the expansive view of the city of Seattle – the top of the Space Needle – hidden within the low lying clouds. The windows were crystal clear – clean, not a speck of dust – yet the skyline was hazy, frayed around the edges like an old, tired photograph. Richard pressed his fingertips along the window, bracing himself once again. He had called Adele days ago – damn, it was Wednesday night already – he'd been anxiously awaiting her reply for almost a week! And he only agreed to this evening after Shep thought it would be a good form of distraction, although so far it only proved to remind him how alone he was and what a mess everything in his life was still … even after all these years.

He was alone.

And for the millionth time in his adult life, he silently beat himself up for the decisions he made that led him to this moment – right here, right now – in a luxury high rise apartment, perched high above the city – a beautiful career as a surgeon almost behind him now – with nothing to show for it except for pain and loneliness.

He was alone.

His life was in shambles, a fact he had come to accept, a fact he was well aware of – a station he was more than familiar with – for he'd been here before, his version of ground zero. Countless times. Too many times to count.

He was alone.

He'd been there the first time he exited an on call room after he and Ellis had finally succumb to their animalistic and unavoidable attraction for one another.

He was alone.

He's been there over and over and over again – whenever they met – he felt alone in those moments after they made their connection, shaking like a leaf on the inside over his betrayal to his wife, his life, his vows … his sweet Adele.

He was alone.

He'd been there when he finally allowed himself to fall in love with Ellis – his heart's capacity to love two women was painful – painful to admit and painful to live with as it broke and swelled simultaneously, leaving Richard stuck somewhere in the middle, somewhere between heaven and hell.

He was alone.

He'd been there again when Ellis decided to leave Thatcher for him – her love for him just as real as his love for her – except that he knew he could never leave Adele. He wasn't strong as strong as the women in his life, this he knew.

He was alone.

And there again – in perpetuity – on every turn of the year, every time he wanted a drink, every time he lost a patient, every night (although few and far between) that Adele made him stay away from the hospital – every time the world became bigger or scarier – he was back there at ground zero … alone.

He was alone.

And yet, he was there again when he finally told Ellis as much – alone again and again throughout his lifetime as her cries and pleas of frustration and despair haunted him since that day at the park – with Meredith riding on the carousel in the background, God, he could still hear her cries if he closed his eyes on the moment.

He was alone.

And finally, he was there again when Ellis returned to his life – hopelessly lost – and without her beautiful mind. Only then in that moment – in those early days of her return did he realize – he'd been waiting for her return and upon learning she would never resurface as the force she once was … only then were his inner light and his spirit burned out for good.

He was truly alone.

Richard sighed heavily and pushed back against the window – the skyline shimmering through his thick tears now – as he closed his eyes and held his head back, letting those tears recede until they never existed at all. He turned away from the window – why hadn't she at least called him to let him know she wouldn't be coming with him – or to remind him once again that he was too late. He crossed the room with the intent to put it all behind him for the moment and rejoin the men – the game – and that's when he saw it. One of his most prized possessions. He backpedaled and sat down on the edge of his perfectly made bed.

He reached over and scoffed, it wasn't like he forgot it was there, hell it was the only decorative item in this whole place that he personally added – placing it on 'his side', his bedside table … it was the last thing he saw whenever he fell asleep in his bed here – but tonight it hit home … tonight the memories came flooding back over the levees he'd taken years to secure. He held the frame tightly – laying it across his legs briefly before he allowed himself the luxury of really looking at it – God, she was beautiful in that moment, perhaps even more so than on their wedding day or the first day he set his eyes upon her. This photograph was important to him in many ways and perhaps most poignant reason was because he took the photo himself. Because as much as it was her moment – it was his – and he wanted to capture it – her – for himself and that meant something to him.

The photograph was taken in the afternoon following their arrival at the small boutique bed and breakfast in The Bahamas – where Richard had quickly booked a long, long weekend a few weeks after Ellis' hasty departure, gone from Grace, gone from his life and seemingly overnight – his ex-lover's actions unequivocally propelled him back into his marriage faster than his vows put him there to begin with. And for the first time in years – he and Adele had gone away on a real vacation – leaving his pager behind as he whisked his wife away in an attempt to right his wrongs … to rip the Band-Aid off because he had no other choice. The trip was a struggle, a moral dilemma at best – a more than a monumental occasion for him – of course now he knew it had been the same for Adele.

Tears pricked his eyes, even now, over twenty …five … years … later – just thinking about the events that led up to the taking of this photograph – making love to his wife after so many months of avoidance and obligatory relations, no … there was nothing he would have changed about that weekend so very long ago. For that trip came to be one of the last true vacations they would share – one of the last times they would truly connect as lovers – for it just hurt too much for both of them in their own unique and private ways.

Their light had burned out, Richard's connection with Adele had always been deep and spiritual, but he had trampled all over that spirit with Ellis – marring the beauty of 'them' – but on that weekend all those years ago he was reminded of just how much he loved Adele and just how well they fit together – how they went together in mind, body and spirit – how she felt under the weight of his body, how he felt submersed deep within her, how she called out his name in bliss, his angel's cry of love and passion – it was like a puncture wound that would never heal – and it hurt … the reminder of what was lost and what could have been, hurt like hell for the pair of them.

###

Richard entered the master suite of the five-star bed and breakfast he and his wife would share for the next seventy-two hours. He had stayed on the beach after they took a short walk and a short swim. Adele had retreated to their room to shower and freshen up, while he stayed behind, perhaps to clear his head, or maybe to allow her some privacy … from whom, he had no idea, but all of a sudden he felt like a stranger to her. He stepped into the air conditioned room and spotted Adele on the terrace, barefoot and beautiful, sipping a glass of sweet tea. He smiled – she truly was a gorgeous woman – he turned to make his way to the bathroom to shower away the debris of salt on his skin and oh, so much more.

Once inside the simple bathroom, he turned the shower on and wasted no time before he stepped into the scalding hot spray of the water. While he scrubbed his body, his mind drifted to their time on the beach just an hour ago – wondering if perhaps the magic was not entirely lost or forgotten – could he dare himself to believe that he could make this work? After their short jaunt down the hot sandy beach, they sought relief – a change in scenery as they dipped their hot skin into the cool depths of the blue, organic sea – all the while the white endless beach, so full of history and promise and possibility – stared back at them, taunting them with its untainted beauty.

Once out beyond the larger waves, they stood on their toes and held hands briefly, Adele's familiar fingers laced through his like no time had passed, once again a perfect fit. And in that moment, he looked at her; his dear, strong woman and she smiled – not radiantly like he knew she was capable of – but she smiled nonetheless, and in that moment … the current of the water was not the only current that coursed through Richard's body. With sun shining down all around them – her supple lips, big and plump, her bright eyes dancing beneath her long, beautiful eye lashes, her generous breasts swelling with the water – Richard effectively woke up.

The couple ducked under a set of breaking waves – and there was a moment under the water Richard swore he would never forget – he was cleansed somehow, holding onto the unwavering tether that had become his wife. And maybe it was the intensity of the water's motion, or the bubbles popping all over his dead skin, or perhaps the pummel of the natural salt that cleansed him – well … no matter what is was … he felt renewed and rejuvenated before he even pushed his way through the water's surface again where he found Adele – right where he left her – her hand still in his, her wedding bands still a sparkling symbol … to her … and a reminder to him.

He brought her to him – the warm bright blue water splashing all around them as he did, her long, lean legs instinctually found his waist, her arms found his neck and she held on tight with fierce passion – and it felt … good. Richard ran his hands up and down the beautiful curves of her wet body and let the water rock and lull and lull and rock them for a beat. He felt an overwhelming desire to kiss her as she took his skull in her hands – the familiarity of her touch was truly unmatched – he loved her still, this he knew of course … he betrayed her, but he loved her still.

His chest tightened – with what, he asked himself – love or sorrow?

The spell was broken when Adele laughed breathlessly and so did he as they realized the halter strap of her ecru bikini top came loose and trailed behind them in the water for a split-second before he secured it for her once more, moving his hands along the smooth skin of her round shoulders down to her ribcage to her hips, finally cupping her firm tush with his hands, where he left them – basking in the heat generated between them – and again, he felt good … more than good to hold her in his arms.

Richard stepped from the shower and dried himself off with a fresh, plush white towel. He moved to the sink and splashed some cold water on his face – wake up, wake up, wake up – he demanded silently as he patted his face dry. He stared at his reflection in the mirror for a beat and shook his head with self-loathing – already having decided he was not going to tell Adele about his affair with Ellis – for it was over and she left town, and telling Adele would only prove to needlessly hurt her and she didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve any of this. And nothing he could do would change the history of his indiscretions or erase the pain he harbored in his own heart, he that much.

What was that saying, 'ignorance is bliss'? Well that is likely a true statement – for he would know, he would remember, he would be held hostage by his actions – and he had a feeling that this affair, although most certainly over, would stay with him for a lifetime and beyond …and so it was true, he was far from ignorant.

He slipped on a fresh pair of boxer shorts and scrutinized himself once more. He must move on, he must recommit himself to his wife, to his life … because he was not strong enough to think about losing Ellis, he was not strong enough to follow his heart's desires, remembering that once, in the not too distant past his heart and soul resided with Adele. He wanted to make his way back to her – to make love to her, freely and with a clear conscience – but after everything he had done … was that even possible? Maybe, maybe not. But the truth was … he wanted to try. And with that thought in mind he left the enclave of the bathroom in search of his wife.

He found her standing there still – on the terrace overlooking the water – her mint green wrap dress flying all around her in the salty breeze. She moved her hand along her brow and took another sip of her sweet tea. Her body was just as beautiful as ever, so drastically different from Ellis in shape and form – with her beautiful ebony skin glowing in the natural sunlight, her voluptuous curves, her trademark hourglass shape, she defined zaftig – she turned slightly, her side profile revealing her striking angular, yet round, heart-shaped face …she turned some more and then she saw him. She looked at him quizzically through the glass – she looked different, stronger somehow – and he was curious about that all of a sudden as she raised her hand and curled her pointer finger toward him, silently ordering him to join her.

Richard did as he was told by pushing the French door open and stepping over the threshold, maintaining his hold on her eyes as he did. The air was warm and sticky and sweet – fragrant with freesia and something else he couldn't put his finger on – he came to stand in front of her … his wife. She smiled coyly – a small smile, perhaps one meant just for him – and he sighed heavily, allowing his fears and trepidations to be carried out sea in the wind. She smiled again before she looked him square in the eyes – she definitely had something on her mind – and he couldn't read her – had he really been so absent for so long that he could no longer read his wife's expressions? He cocked his head to the side and smiled weakly, waiting for her to make the first move. It seemed to him she was hedging, sparring … not quite willing to let her guard down in front of him. He moved closer still, suddenly craving proximity.

"Adele my belle," he whispered; his voice low and husky, she giggled at the reverberation of the old moniker he made up whist they were courting. "What's on your mind?" he asked hesitantly, not quite sure if he was ready for her answer.

Her hands found his hipbones and she pulled him closer, her fingers dancing along the waistband of his boxers. She looked up and batted her eyelashes. "Business, Richard," she answered softly – her melodic voice funneling into the small space between them – as she peeked up at him to him now from under her long lashes, she giggled at their old private joke.

"Business, huh," he chuckled, leaning closer, feeling her heat. "It's business time, is it?" he asked thickly.

"Yes," she answered, her hot breath breezed across his bare chest, the sun no match for her natural heat. "It's business time," she answered, finally pressing her supple lips against his chest, over his heart. His muscle reacted; pumped up and pulsing against the gentle force of her lips as his head lolled back for a beat.

"Are you open for business?" Richard asked, ducking his head down again. He took her fleshy earlobe in between his lips and sucked and sucked, breathing in her familiar essence as he did.

"Oh yes, yes," she sighed softly into his skin, trembling in his broad arms, her own arms around his neck – his hands on her hips, grounding himself – already having lost himself in her familiarity … for she was like coming home.

With her blessing hanging in the thick air between them Richard wasted no time before he gathered her in his arms and covered her lips with his, pulsing, massaging, melting into her – and there they kissed each other, passionately – and for the first time in months he held his wife the way a husband, a lover, a life-companion was meant to. He felt Adele acquiesce – further relaxing into his embrace – as her hands found his skull once again. And for the first time in a long time she did her best to wield control over their kisses – and in that moment Richard relented – giving up his traditionally officious role in their lovemaking in favor of letting her guide him.

She turned their bodies and walked them backwards, their lips never parting – tongues dancing a slow waltz now, becoming acclimated once again – temperatures and heartbeats rising in crescendo until suddenly there was no turning back. He pressed Adele up against the cool glass of the French door, struggling to find the latch now. Unable to keep his hands off of her, he abandoned the idea and brought her flush up against him – his raging cock pulsed against her groin only growing harder as she gasped with untamed delight at the evidence of his arousal – damn, he'd forgotten what the taste of her on his tongue did to him. Adele released her arms from his neck and snaked her hands behind her back to pop the latch, the couple stumbled into the air-conditioned suite.

Richard's head was spinning – dizzy and intoxicated with suppressed lust – as he took control once again and swiftly walked her, caressing her, coaxing her toward the lavish bedroom. Once through the doorway, Adele pulled herself from his lips and led him to the overly made up bed. She gently pushed on his chest with a small smile – he sat down – and she stepped in between his legs. And in that moment, he was overcome by her heat; her energy – the power of her – long forgotten, but so easily remembered now. He looked up and found his wife's steady, deep and soulful eyes, thick with unshed tears – she was somewhere different – somewhere between happiness and lust and … something else, something indescribable – what was it – pain, loneliness … regret? She smiled weakly and he reached up and ran his fingertips along her hairline, pausing for a beat before he made another move.

He was awestruck by her innocent beauty then – so soft and gentle and innate – all of which was further accentuated by the late afternoon sun filtering into the room, creating a halo of light behind her … emphasizing the glow of her skin from their kisses, her swollen lips, the raw need he found within her penetrating eyes – she was an idol – something to behold for sure. Still under her spell, lost, so lost within her deep, dark gateways, Richard moved his hand along her neck and down to her shoulders, just under the cap sleeve made from the silky mint green fabric and then followed the line of her exposed flesh, resting his fingertips on her clavicle there as he took in the sight of her, moving his eyes over her body for a beat. He smiled into the moment; he always loved that – the plane of her beautiful dark skin just along the valley of her breasts – she moved closer still. Her breathing labored now as she placed her hands along his shoulders, perhaps in an effort to ground herself.

Richard moved in then, pressing his lips to any and all bare skin he could find, Adele slumped forward, leaning in now as his lips and tongue moved along her heated flesh, nipping, pulsing and massaging as he untied her dress with one fluid movement, allowing the silky fabric to fall open.

"Adele," Richard muttered into the bare flesh of her abdomen.

She reacted by shrugging her shoulders, allowing her dress to fall to the ground, revealing her naked body. His chest tightened as he leaned forward and kissed her flesh over and over and over again. He felt her succumb to his ministrations, grasping at his shoulders as the crown of his head repeated brushed against the underside of her full breasts.

"Adele," he whispered her name again as he pulled his lips away from her skin, peeking up, searching her eyes for further permission.

With relief he was met only with her smiling eyes, although he could still see those small flecks of sadness etched deep within them as he brought his mouth to one of her dark beautiful nipples, maintaining his gaze now as he held her heavy flesh in his hands and feasted upon her engorged pleasure point – sucking the nipple, massaging it along the groove of his tongue only to release and blow across it, watching it tighten and grow in response – he let the flesh fall from his mouth and attacked the opposite breast now, his eyes still glued on hers, watching as she slipped under, leaning forward, gasping in pleasure as he pulled on the taut nub with his lips, before he began flicking it with his tongue, his fire only fueled more powerfully by her stifled cries and the painful pressure of her fingernails pressed deep into his shoulders.

"Richard," she cried out into the air above them.

He watched her head loll back and held her in place, feeling her abdomen tighten, his hands roaming all around her body, a small sheen of dew covered her skin and from the tortured look of pleasure-filled pain that covered her face he knew she was just rocked by an orgasm. He snaked his fingers in between her hips and the fabric of her black lace panties, pulling on the flimsy fabric – now damp with her intoxicating sex – down and away, down and away from her body. Once at her feet, he turned her body into his and laid her on the bed. He came to lie next to her, caressing her delicate heart-shaped face, waiting for the pings of her orgasm to pass before he pressed on and moved on and forward. He let his fingertips roam over her curves, gently kissing and nipping her skin as he went – silently thanking God for this chance, this one chance to be with her – for his regret and his inability to trust himself with her pulled strongly on his heart strings as she opened her eyes and found him watching her.

Richard smiled, pressing his lips together; he leaned in and kissed hers. She sighed into his mouth and raised her leg, pressing her foot flat against the bed. Lips still fused together – she reached down and tugged on the waistband of his boxers – silently offering her further permission …yes, she wanted him too. She leaned up and forward, a small smile covering her face as he knelt on his knees, while helped him. His cock sprang free and she giggled, immediately taking his muscle in her hand, she tugged on him with ownership, bringing him forward and down onto her, nestling his cock between her hip and his abdomen as she kissed him, darting her tongue into his depths over and over and over again.

And while they kissed, Richard moved his hand further south to the apex of her well-trimmed pussy – longing now to feel her natural inclination for him, evidence of her arousal – on both his fingers and his tongue. He ducked his head down and pressed his lips over her skin, moving down, down until he reached her abdomen where he abruptly stopped. He turned his head and rested his ear over her mound, his fingertips nestled in her vee just above her hooded clit, her leg raised, her pussy, the pure essence of her … ready and waiting.

So it was there that he felt the first wave of guilt – their intimacy, the action he was about to take, it felt like a betrayal to 'them' and suddenly he felt disjointed, conflicted – God damn it, he wanted to make love to his wife! He. Wanted. Her. And on all accounts – spiritually, physically, mentally, he wanted her – her sweet elixir was ripe for the taking, and yet … the damage was already done … he could no longer love her how she deserved to be loved. Unexpected tears pricked his eyes and everything disappeared inside the moment for a beat.

Move on, move on, press on … make love, feel, connect … you love her! She's okay, she's okay! You can do this!

The feeling of her hands on his skull brought him out of his tirade. She held him firmly. She brought him back. "Richard," she sighed. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice, quiet … and so small, all of a sudden she sounded so far away.

"You," he whispered, his hot breath moving across her mound – she shifted in response, opening her free thigh wider – he looked down and spotted her small dark clit peeking out from within her folds. His cock lengthened. His balls tightened.

"So, take me … put your mouth on me," she sighed, opening her thigh yet again, gently giving her orders …and so he did.

Without missing a beat, he wordlessly positioned himself in between her thighs – taking a moment to admire the beauty of her essence, her perfect plump pussy – before he gently dipped one finger inside her sticky folds, almost cumming on the spot from the pure need and abundance of her arousal he felt within her. She was wet, more than wet for him. He pulsed his finger in and out of her slippery tight channel – pulse, pulse, pulse – as Adele sighed breathlessly into the air above them. Richard peeked up and found her lips pressed together, her brow knitted in concentration – something she'd always done to suppress her moans of pleasure – something that always bothered him … until now, until he came to appreciate her for her – no, this wasn't just about him and his need to hear her mewls of pleasure – because somehow it was finally about 'them'.

"Hmm," he moaned. "You feel so good … so beautiful," he muttered.

Her hips bucked up and her delicate muscles closed tightly around his finger; her hands flew to his skull – something she rarely did – guiding him, pushing him down, down, down now. Wasting no time, Richard took her signal and leaned forward gently running his fat tongue along the outer perimeter of her folds – damn she tasted so fucking good – just like home, just like home, he muttered to himself now as he pressed his whole mouth over her opening – moaning into her hole, his vibrations echoing now with no place to go – his mouth ready to siphon, his throat ready to drink her down! Adele's hips bucked up again and he took all she had and so much more!

Finding her clit, he swirled his tongue around and around and around the perfect little nub, flicking back and forth as he went – taking the small gem in between his lips – keeping it there, sucking on it for a beat before releasing her to the wild once again. Her gasps filled the air and there they stayed – also having no place to go – her tortured cry of his name fell from her lips and it was as if he heard an angel sing.

He took a moment – giving her pussy and nerves a break, reveling in her beauty now he breathed her sweet essence in, pressing it down through his nostrils savoring it in his lungs– resting his head on her thigh now, he blew on her hot, engorged flesh for a beat longer. Ready for more, he then inserted two of his long surgeon's fingers into her soaked pussy, rotating his hand, palm up before he curled those fingers up and into Adele's flesh. Briskly 'walking' them up and back, deep into her fleshy depths where he found her spot, her G-Spot – the one that made her writhe and wiggle and gasp – the only one she let herself and all of her inhibitions completely go for, the one she came hard and fast for.

And then she did just that, only this time she cried out in pleasurable bliss, Richard popped his head up and watched his wife let it all go …

He watched her eyes roll back into her head …

He watched her cheeks come to life …

He watched her arch her back – feeling his raw desire – as her heavy breasts and engorged nipples called to him … ripe for the taking …

He watched her drown now as he slowly removed his fingers and pressed his mouth over sweet pussy once more, drinking her down as she clenched her ass cheeks up and proceeded to let him fuck her pussy with his tongue.

"I need more … I … I …need," she sighed, unable to finish her thought. Richard smiled, for while Adele was a generous and soulful lover, she was not a vocal lover and he was pleasantly surprised by this change, so much so that he left her pussy in favor of crawling back up her body to seduce her.

"What is it, Adele?" he asked, kissing her dewy flesh along her neckline. "What do you need more of?" he persisted with the leading question with a slight smirk as he dipped his head down and latched on to one of her perfectly dark, round nipples, damn she tasted so good.

She chuckled breathlessly, but kept her eyes closed. "You," she sighed, reaching down, she surprised him again by pumping her fist up and down his hard and ready cock. "I've missed you," she muttered softly, sighing through her warbled confession.

"You want my cock," he teased, making more of a statement than a question, loving the feeling of her tight fingers around his rod.

Her eyes flew open. "I do," she agreed, maintaining her strong hold on him. "You're mine," she said with an air of new confidence, a small amount of righteousness seeping through, but he only smiled.

"I am," he agreed as he moved to hover over her. He kissed her sweet lips and watched her eyes close. "Eyes open Adele," he requested and she obliged. "Make me yours again," he said softly – his heart trembled now – as he felt her familiar grasp around his cock before she gently eased him into her pussy.

Silently welcoming him … inside.

Silently welcoming him … home.

"Hmm, mine," she sighed, opening her thighs to him. Locking her glassy eyes with his, doing her best to maintain their gaze as she swallowed him up – inch by inch by inch – even though he knew her well enough to know that she'd rather look away or close her eyes entirely.

She felt tighter to him – familiar and wonderful – but tighter. And as he raised himself up on his forearms; he felt her shift under him, opening her thighs even wider to accept his width, seemingly unwilling to leave any part of him astray. He pulsed slowly – down, down, down – another moan of appreciation fell from Adele's lips. He reached behind her and raised her thigh up and above his hip bone on one side; Adele pressed her heel into his lower back to keep her thigh in place. On the other side, he took Adele's knee and tucked it under his forearm, he felt her pussy lips stretch just enough now to submerse his entire cock within her core.

"Oh God, Richard," she sighed breathlessly as he began to pulse his cock in and out of her depths – down, down, down – he went again, his pelvic bone pressing on hers as her juice lubricated their machine. "Harder," she ordered, taking him by surprise once again as she rolled her hips up and back to allow for deeper penetration.

Richard pulsed deep and quick now, sensing Adele was close …

He so desperately wanted to get her off, to feel her cum and to be held in place by her muscles as she did …

He wanted it all, with her …

He was finally home …

He wanted to explode within her …

He wanted to be swallowed up by her for now and forever …

Feeling quite certain that he didn't need more than this …

That he didn't need more than her …

"I'm close," he husked into the damp skin of her neck, never wanting to let go.

"Me too," she breathed, her voice catching. "So close," she managed to say, so lost already.

With that, Richard snaked his hand down and flanked his fingers around her fat, wet clit before he moved them together and let the friction from his pulses rub against her pleasure point until he heard her scream his name and her delicate muscles went to work, milking him, clenching down around him as she made him hers again once and for all!

His cock jumped and he released his seed – claiming her, loving her, connecting with her – cherishing the moment, watching her now as he briefly made eye contact with her before her eyes closed with bliss.

All was quiet then as she clasped her feet around his back and kept him there, holding him there until his cock began to soften. He slipped from her tired hole, all the while he pressed kisses to her neck and shoulders, trying desperately now to hold on to how he was feeling right at this moment, because he never wanted to forget – this choice he made – to return to Adele, to realize this moment where they might begin, where he might be able to begin to start over again.

###

And so the reunited husband and the satisfied wife held each for a long time that afternoon – whispering to one another – sleeping and resting, only to wake up wrapped around one another, finally safe … finally together on the other side of his mistakes. Sometime later, Richard slipped from their nest – he went to the small bar and grabbed a bottle of water and poured a glass of sweet tea for his sexy wife – the air smelled of their sex, it was in every particle he breathed and he loved it. He walked back into the bedroom and melted when he found Adele.

Right then and there she became … his Adele. She lay on her side, propped up on two ecru covered pillows – her face still swathed in post-coital bliss, her arm draped low around her abdomen, the ecru sheet rested just along her nipples – the swell of her breasts completely visible along with the tip of her right areola – so beautifully dark and perfect against the bright sheet. Lastly … one perfect knee cap – a triangle of deep ebony – peeked out from beneath another small blanket. She was an idol, an angel … she was his Adele.

And he was quite certain that in all their years together thus far, he was sure he'd never seen her so at peace … so beautiful, so … true to herself. He saw what he believed was the woman she saved just for him and without even thinking – he grabbed the camera – and snapped a photograph of her.

###

Richard held the framed memoir now, never in his life had he cherished something so vehemently. He kept the photo to himself, never even telling Adele he took it. For countless years he kept the photo in his office at the hospital, tucked safely away in his bible – one that his parents had given him when he was a young boy – a gift he knew he would never part with. Every once in a while when things spiraled out of control, he would retrieve the photo and allow himself the luxury of getting lost within the memories of that weekend oh so long ago.

Only when he finally moved in here did he march out and find a frame for the photo – his hopes for reconciling with Adele, long gone now – he had to have something to fall asleep next to, her pillow did not seem to tow the line anymore. Tears … unwanted tears gathered in his eyes as he fell victim once again to all the mistakes he made. He ached for Adele. It was true, for years after Ellis left, he missed her – he missed her vitality, her strength – but he never ached for her like he did for Adele.

He stood now on shaky legs – intent to call Adele – and beg and plead with her to come on this trip, this cruise … to come away with him and try again. He ached for her … he wanted her. Holding the frame in both hands for a beat longer now before he placed it once again in its spot and swiftly exited his room, walking down the hallway – to do what – distract himself …mute himself? He had no idea anymore what to do anymore. He passed through the kitchen, bypassing the mess of empty bottles as he entered the dining room and found his men right where he left them – raucous laughter filling the air, drinks in hand, cards on the table – along with a new scattering of beer bottles and mounds of peanut shells.

"Chief, we were about to send a search party out for you," Owen greeted, happily.

"Yeah, what happened, did you almost fall into that bidet the designer made you install?" Mark chuckled, raising his brow.

"No, he put his foot down on that, right?" Derek teased, his face bright until he looked up from his cards and met Richard's gaze. "Richard?" he asked.

Richard stood there still. He didn't know what to do. It had been a week … a week since he had written an invitation for Adele, inviting her to come over here – to see his place – and to take that trip with him. He was retiring for Christ's sakes … finally, finally, in the true sense of the idea and he wanted a chance to make it right with her – to travel and have fun and take trips – he ached for her …he wanted her, still.

"Chief, you alright?" George asked; his eyes steady and calm.

"I miss my wife," Richard declared in defeat.

"Call her," George replied, his eyes on his cards again.

"I did. And I invited her to come over here too, whenever she was ready," he answered, his mind racing light years into the future – long after his eighteen-month jaunt with Shep – long after he would leave the confines of Seattle Grace once and for all – long after, long after – to a time when he would still be alone and aching for her.

"Call her again," Derek persisted with encouragement.

"We can call her for you!" Mark offered, flecks of booze found deep within in his eyes.

"Oh yeah!" Alex retorted. "What are you gonna say?" Alex laughed.

"Whhhhazzzuuuuuuup!" Mark howled, his face bright red.

"Whhhhazzzuuuuuuup!" Owen howled, following suit, slapping his hand down.

"You fucking morons," Derek laughed.

"Whhhhazzzuuuuuuup!" Mark howled again just for the hell of it.

"Thanks fellas," Richard said, cracking a wide smile at their antics. "But Adele is a bit mature for a drunk dial, don't you think?" he teased.

"Now that Chief – see that depends on your idea of 'mature' – I mean, look at me here, expecting father, brilliant plastic surgeon … and yet –"

"He still wants to sit at the 'cool table' at lunch," George interjected, rolling his eyes.

"So what if I do!" Mark countered, both men laughed like devils.

"Chief, just call her, go and call her … be direct," Derek counseled and all was quiet for a beat.

Richard just wanted to know what was on her mind – as much as she still terrified him – he wanted to know, he wanted to know if she thought he was insane, he wanted her to yell and scream if need be – he just wanted to hear from her on this one thing – on this idea of a trip where maybe they could get down to the 'business of them'. He wanted to know her answer. The sound of Mark's pager vibrating along the table woke him up from this latest round of thoughts. He watched Mark flip the PDA open and smile wide like it was Christmas morning, or something close to it.

"Everything all right?" asked Derek.

"Oh yeah," Mark snickered, typing his reply. "It's Callie," he cackled, looking up. "You're ex-wife is horny!" he called over to George, pressing his palm down on the table.

George laughed. "Are you ever gonna stop with that?" he asked, a smirk covering his face.

"No, I don't think I will," he said gleefully, tossing his cards on the table. "But you might get lucky tonight and win this round too, now that I'm gone," he sparred in fun.

"No – no he won't – he hasn't seen the masterpiece found right here in my hand yet," Alex snickered; poker faces abound all of a sudden as everyone turned to survey the young OB surgeon.

"Sorry to leave fellas, but it's business time and my pregnant girlfriend is finally horny!" he cackled happily as he stood. The men looked up. "Looks like Shep isn't the only one who's gonna get some tonight," he sneered.

"Hey – it's been four years, four years of marriage – we're entitled to a spontaneous staycation," Derek cackled, pointing his finger at his best friend. "There's nothing like some 'business time' over at The Archfield, and I know, you know what I mean," he muttered, eying his cards again.

"I do … I do my friend, have fun," he smiled genuinely. "See you boys later," he said, slipping his leather jacket on. Pointing now at the Richard with two fingers. "Call her … just call," he offered seriously.

"I think I will," Richard smiled at his happy – about-to-get-lucky – friend as he walked him to the door.

He watched Sloan slip down the hallway, secretly hoping he'd be alright to walk home, although he felt comfort in knowing the couple lived too close by for him to have driven over, or even take a cab for that matter. He smiled and closed the door. He collected some of the empty bottles from the table and headed back to the kitchen to put them in the recycling bin. He set the bottles down on the counter and his cell phone rang – jarred – he anxiously looked down to the PDA: Sloan.

"Sloan," Richard said into the line, wondering what he might have forgotten.

"Adele's here, she's on her way up," Mark announced.

"Oh … oh … thanks," Richard replied, his mind whirling like the final spin-cycle … hot water, heavy soil, fabric softener, double rinse, spin, spin, spin!

"She looked happy, if that means anything, I mean … her serious scowl … well, she's on her way up …," he rambled on.

"Okay," Richard chuckled. "Oh … Mark … you're walking home right?" he asked, just to make sure.

"I am … that I am," Mark laughed. "See you in the AM," he added and then he was gone.

Richard snapped the phone shut and wandered back into the dining room. "Adele's here," he announced. "Sloan just called … she's here … on her way up," he muttered, not sure what he should do first … practice his speech, yes – the words, what he wanted to say to her – or what he envisioned he would say to her.

"Shit," Derek shook his head. "Look at this place," he muttered, pushing his chair back from the table.

Preoccupied now, Richard stood by and watched as George, Owen and Alex followed Derek's lead, each man making a hasty attempt to clear away some the mess.

"Leave it fellas," he said after a beat, his voice calm and even despite his raging heart.

"Let me pack up what's left of the contraband," Derek offered with a chuckle, locking his eyes with Richard's for a beat.

"Thanks Shep," he replied with appreciation, for his dear friend knew that even though he had smothered his craving for the poison a long time ago, he still didn't like to have it in the house. He'd sleep better tonight knowing the 'liquor cabinet' was bare.

Derek disappeared into the kitchen while the remaining men tidied up a bit more before tossing their jackets on. The doorbell rang and only then did all of the players freeze. Richard made eye contact with George who raised a brow and smiled with encouragement – one previously married man to another now – as he made his way to the front door. He rested his hand on the ornate doorknob and steadied himself for a beat before he opened the door and sighed at the sight of his wife of twenty-five years – his ex-wife for almost six – and marveled once again at her radiant beauty. She sighed and smiled, cocking her head slightly as she did.

"Did Mark Sloan announce my arrival?" she asked – a playful hint laced in her voice – her strong features softened.

"He did, come in," Richard replied. "Let me take your coat," he murmured, coming to stand behind her, he slipped her black tailor-made lamb's wool coat from her shoulders, holding the garment in his hands. She turned to face him – wearing pretty standard 'Adele' garb – black pinstripe suit with a short jacket, simple ecru blouse, a small lavender silk scarf hung loose around her neck, she was a vision.

"Gentlemen," Adele greeted, smiling curtly.

"Adele," they muttered in unison – smiles plastered to their plastered faces now – having each been scolded at one time or another over the years for addressing her as 'Mrs. Webber'.

The men moved in formation now to the coat closet, George took his coat from the hanger, slipped it on and came to take Adele's coat from Richard. He hung it up with efficiency and turned to find Richard, standing there still … his eyes on Adele. Richard smiled, chuckling now as the men began a makeshift receiving line of sorts, first shaking his hand and then Adele's. Within a minute or two they were gone. All was quiet then for a beat before Derek entered the room – leather bomber jacket already on, bag of 'contraband' clinking softly in hand – smiling now as he spotted Adele, he crossed the room to greet her properly.

"Hi there," he said, his voice even, chipper.

"Derek," she sighed with a smile. "How are the babies? Meredith?" she cooed thoughtfully.

"Healthy, happy," he answered, pressing a warm hand to her shoulder. He leaned in and pecked her round cheek with a small kiss.

"That's nice to hear," she said softly, passing a quick glance at Richard. "Your mother called …s she's come into town?" she inquired with interest.

"She is … she's watching the tots for a couple of days – Meredith and I are staying at The Archfield – we're meeting there tonight actually, just to … get away, just the two of us," Derek offered with a bright smile.

"Ah," she smiled. "Good for you – spend some time together – away from work, away from the hospital," she preached, steeling a glance at Richard for a beat. He could only smile with acknowledgment.

Derek turned his attention back to his friend. "Thanks Richard," he said, holding his free hand out.

The men shook hands, taking a couple of steps toward the door. Adele followed and smiled when Derek pulled her into a hug for a beat. "Go easy on him," he chuckled softly and so did she with a roll to her eyes.

With that, he slipped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. And then there were two.

"Adele," Richard sighed, turning to find her with his eyes. "Thanks for … coming," he said softly, stepping closer.

"This is a lovely space," she offered, her eyes roaming around her ex-husband's well-decorated bachelor pad. "Simple elegance," she muttered.

"It's alright," he replied, watching her take in the soothing earth tones, travertine marble floors, deep brown leather couches, sleek lines, glass top tables, seamless flood lights and built-in high-tech electronics. It suited him.

"Hmm … may I have a glass of tea?" she asked, keeping her eyes trained on the view of the darkened skyline.

"Sure … come this way," he replied, placing his hand at the small of her back, they bypassed the card table and made their way through the dining room to the kitchen.

"Wow Richard," Adele sighed. "What do you plan to do with a kitchen like this … learn to cook?" she teased with a raised brow.

Richard chuckled, grabbing two pilsner style glasses; he filled them with ice cubes, pouring the tea over top. "That depends …," he mused, handing Adele one of the glasses.

"On?" she inquired, holding her glass up to his where they gently clinked.

"On whether I have some company or not …," he smiled, mischief in his eyes now.

Richard watched her eyes gaze around the space for a beat longer – turning slightly to get the full affect – before she halted and whipped her head back to him. "Doesn't this building recycle?" she asked; her alarm evident.

"Yes," he chuckled, turning to move the multitude of glass beer bottles to the recycling bin. Surprisingly, Adele came to stand next to him, bringing with her a handful of empty bottles; the pair finished the mundane task together.

"Thanks," Richard said.

He turned to the sink and washed his hands, leaving the water running for Adele, except she hadn't moved from her spot. She stood still for a beat – an empty bottle of scotch in her hands – she gripped the glass and held it over the bin, suspended in time, or something. Richard turned the faucet off and came to stand next to her. He kept his eyes on the bottle and so did she.

"What is it that you want, Richard," she asked so softly, barely above a whisper, his heart went nuts.

"You," he answered in that same tone, his heart rising, lodged somewhere in his neck for sure.

"Just me?" she asked, releasing one hand from the bottle.

"Just you … just you and this … trip," he answered, his heart beating in his throat now.

"This 'business trip' …," she mused with a small smile.

"Yes," he answered. "It's time," he whispered.

"Yes," she whispered. "I think so too …," she sighed breathlessly. "It's time," she agreed, leaning closer now. "It's business time," she said softly, before she gently lay the bottle inside the recycling bin and turned into his welcome embrace.

Business Time – Part 2 – Mark Sloan to follow.