Laid Up Author: Limonize Email: spiral@spinfinder.com Rating: R Summary: Will Nick give in to temptation? Author's Note: First Nicfic. Hope you enjoy it. *ADULT MATERIAL; SEXUAL SITUATIONS; MUST BE OVER 18* --+-- Nick was in a bad mood. That was probably putting it mildly. Everyone had been giving him problems from early morning onward. Then about 3:30 in the afternoon, his phone rang again for the umpteenth time. Brent, a friend from his third-year law class was in town, and had heard he was running a law firm with his father. "Hey, Nick! Brent here! How's it going in the big city, practicing law in a big city law firm?" Brent was a sharp lawyer, but not an overly compensated one. Nick had heard that he was doing mostly divorces and criminal cases. Without Nick's advantages and connections, Brent had only been able to work his way into the law "ghetto" – the same ghetto that Nick was now working his way out of slowly in probation hours at LSP, because of a past cocaine habit. But Brent was a high-spirited sort who Nick always privately envied, for his more open and socially engaging ways. Especially with women. "God, Brent – it's been awhile - hasn't it?" Nick responded. "What have you got going? A harem of divorced housewives in a small town?" Nick's attempts at humor tended to have a razor edge – one of the less polished things about himself, that he admired his classmate-buddy Brent for having better instincts for. "Actually, I got a prosecutor gig going in Hartford. But I'm bored. Drugs, drugs, drugs – grow ops this, and grams that – like - who cares, right?" Nick's radar went up. He would not tell Brent now about his LSP work on hearing that Brent was a criminal prosecutor. Oh, what the hell, Nick thought to himself. It's not like he'd embarrass me with it. He trusted Brent more than many. He broke down and shared his secret with Brent. "I got busted, you know." "No way. I do not believe it. Not the pristine Nick Fallin. You couldn't have got time, or.." "--I only got community-service working in kid custody stuff, as a probation condition. I was super-lucky!" interjected Nick. "But this community service stuff is a lot more involved than I would have guessed." he shared with a chagrined tone. Yeah, thought Brent. You really wouldn't guess – what with always walking on the carpeted floors and through the glass partitions of upscale law offices. He liked Nick, but Brent accepted that they really lived in two different worlds most of the time. He was surprised that Nick had even told him about the bust. Nick was usually too reserved for that type of self-disclosure, as Brent remembered him. "So, Nick, whaddya say we get together over get wasted on some good beer, talk old times, find some nooky.." Nick's afternoon hearing had been rescheduled anyway: "Sure, sure. I'm ready to punch out here. It's been a gruesome day. I'll meet you at the Radisson lobby, say, 4:15?" "You betcha." Brent hung up. "Workaholic Nick" is throwing in the towel and leaving early, he thought to himself, as he shut his file drawer. He scooped up his cell-phone, grabbed his jacket, and left. · * * Nick and Brent were chatting their way through their fourth beer in the Radisson lounge, exchanging anecdotes about old professors and eccentric classmates, when two women, one tall brunette and one shorter light-brown haired, entered the lounge together and slowly approached them. The taller brunette sidled up to Brent, and asked him in a sultry voice, "Want some company?" Her directness was appealing to Brent. Brent smiled at her, and opened a space for the women to seat themselves between he and Nick, on the barstools. Nick surprised himself, speaking up first: "What are you two ladies doing here on this warm afternoon?" The second, light brown-haired one leaned over toward him conspiratorially. "We're here to get laid." she said softly. Both Brent and Nick were at a loss for words. This was a little too direct for either of them. "Uh, anyone in particular?' quipped Brent. "Oh, definitely - we're very particular." answered the tall one. We prefer generous gentlemen." Brent understood immediately. They were "working girls". "How `generous' did you have in mind?" he asked the tall one. "It really depends on how you want to get laid." There was that word again. Nick felt himself getting uncomfortably hot under the collar, realising that the women meant business – at a half-hourly rate. He could have seen himself drunk enough to be persuaded into the room of some female executive passing through, but this was so --- He tapped on Brent's sleeve, and motioned him aside for a private exchange: "Have you…used prostitutes before?' Nick whispered. Brent replied, "Yeah, a few times – not for a long time though." Nick was still trying to quiet something in his mind. "Are they any good – is it worth it?" Nick was trying to control his anguish over having to make a decision. "It's..let's put it this way – they usually know how to scratch your itch. Definitely, I'd say it's worth it. " Nick reconsidered one last time, whether he wanted to continue. His four-odd beer state wasn't making his decision any easier. The smaller one seemed to read his mind. "I give good head -- if you're not really sure if you want anything else." Her words relieved Nick considerably. This was something less intimidating for him to respond to. He appreciated that she seemed to understand his hesitation "How much?" he asked. "Sixty" she replied. "Where?" "Room 108 - and 109" – five minutes. The women disappeared. Brent was all smiles. "All right! Let's go get L-L-A-I-D!" Nick smiled at his enthusiasm, and felt himself caught up in it. But there was also a persistent twinge in him, that he was somehow betraying someone. A someone who hadn't committed themselves to continuing to live in the same city with him. They headed into two rooms which were sequentially numbered. Nick's was the first. The light-browned, rather pert brunette motioned for him to sit down in an old style parlor-type chair. She stooped into a frog-like position and asked him for her sixty dollars. Nick peeled out three twenties and handed them to her. She extracted a condom from the small shoulder purse she had been carrying. Without looking down, he heard her rip the end plastic off it. He could smell it's familiar smell, which unfortunately did not make him think of sex, but rather, of something distasteful and clinical. He had to decide. He stood up. "I'm sorry. It's...another time, maybe - you can keep the money." He tried to avoid looking at her, as he began to leave. "'s okay..everyone has their days." she called after him He walked out feeling numb, quickly let Brent know he was leaving, and drove himself carefully within the speed limit. He went to the fridge and popped open his fifth beer of the evening. He flopped into his couch, and stared at the ceiling. Where exactly was Lulu tonight? What was she doing? What was she thinking? How she could act as if nothing important had happened between them? How could he have been so wrong about something that felt so right? At two am, the phone rang, piercing the stillness of the room. It rang for a long time. But Nick had passed out on the couch. He did not awaken to its sound. ~fin~