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The elevator’s broken.
Not the best circumstance when you need to make a quick escape, but luckily, it’s that point in the night where everyone is either drunk or headed home - so when Juliana tugs on his tie to yank him up the stairwell to her hotel room, he makes no effort to sway her the opposite way.
“How many more stairs could there be?” he asks her, almost out of breath already. If not for the flutter of her dress creeping up her thighs, he might not bother chasing her.
“It’s only on the fourth floor, Larry, come on,” she giggles. The curls of her hair bounce on her shoulders as she jumps ahead of him.
“You’re in so much trouble when I catch up to you,” he drones, half-smirking, and she takes a pause. Leaning over him a couple of steps ahead, bending down to give him a teasing, open-mouthed kiss.
“Oh, I hope so.”
The air is quickly emptied from his lungs, a dizziness washing over him as he feels a terrifying jump in his chest. She smiles at him with those wide, expectant bedroom-eyes, and it’s like his heart trips over itself. Ba-thump.
One more flight of stairs, and she’s the first door on the left. It’s a dark hallway, faulty lighting and carpet from the sixties drowning out the sound of their shuffling footsteps as Juliana fumbles with the old-fashioned key to get inside. She’s breathing so fast, louder than the metal clicks of the lock, and when she finally pushes the door open, she moans his name like he’s already got his hands wrapped around her even though he hasn’t quite made it there yet.
Larry shoves her against the door, flipping it locked, breathing sharply through his nostrils as she grabs his neck. Always going straight for his necktie. She crushes her lips against his and he tastes the Mesagoza wine, the sour bite of her lipstick - and a note of something else, something that’s just her, and feels his head reeling.
Juliana groans his name, practically singing it, and the desperate pitch of her voice makes his temperature climb. She looks fever-flushed already, her pretty face dusted with crimson, burning red to the tips of her ears. “You have no idea - how badly I’ve wanted to do this - all evening - ”
Oh, god and creator, she was thinking about him - well, of course she was, but hearing her say so…the words of affirmation feel entirely different, somehow. She claws at him, fumbling with the knot of his tie, the buttons of his shirt. She mutters “I want you so bad,” and the way his heart is thrashing against his ribs is actually becoming something of a concern.
“Juliana…” He croaks, barely even breathing. He’s not sure what else he was going to say; he’s too dizzy to think straight, all of a sudden. He thinks he should probably ask her to stop, but stopping this is absolute the last thing he wants to do.
She pulls back anyway, though, eyes alight with worry. "Larry? You alright?"
He nods pathetically, struggling to breathe, let alone speak. "Y-Yes, fine, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Mhm."
She smiles, briefly before kissing him again, moaning against his mouth. She works his tie loose, tugging it off, and after she’s worked open the offending buttons of his shirt, her teeth sink into the tender flesh of his neck. Kissing him like she makes to devour him, and he’d allow it - beg for it, even, if it meant he could stay wrapped up in her just like this. She sucks at his throbbing pulse, and he makes some strangled noise of pleasure or anguish that must sound more alarming than he’d thought, because she almost jumps backward.
"That was a scary-sounding noise, Larry, are you sure you're okay?"
Larry stares back at her. At the way her chest heaves, at the straps of her dress slipping off her shoulders. The way her neck is completely flushed, a sheen of sweat glimmering across her collarbone - the glimmer of hunger in her dark eyes. God, she’s so - she's so.
Thumpthumpthump, his heart pounds. He touches his hand to his chest, as if that could help keep it within the confines of his ribcage.
"Actually, no, I…is Miriam here?"
She furrows her brow. "Oh, yes, I think everyone is. Why?"
"Good, we may need to call her up to the room,” he says plainly, fighting to keep his voice even. “I think I'm having a heart attack."
"Deep breath for me, okay?"
Larry does as he’s told, squeezing his eyes shut as the icy-cold press of Nurse Miriam’s stethoscope sends a chill up his spine. He reaches for the water on the nightstand and gulps half of it.
Poor Juliana’s pacing around the opposite end of the room, fiddling with her jewelry. "Is he alright?"
"It's just as I thought,” Miriam mutters, pursing her lips. She lifts the device away from Larry, smiling pleasantly. “Will you give us a minute, Juliana?"
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"I just need to talk some logistics with Mr. Larry, that's all,” she says, waving her off. “I promise he's okay!"
"Okay,” she nods reluctantly, but still manages to smile. “I’ll just be outside, okay?”
“No problem, it won’t be long!” Miriam tells her cheerfully, and when the door clicks shut, she whips her head around to look curiously down at him in a manner he most certainly does not appreciate. "SO. How long has that been going on?"
"Has what been going on?" He says, clipped. Miriam is not having it.
"Honestly, Larry, I don't know how you'd think I would buy that excuse,” she says, twirling a lock of hair lazily around her finger. “If a man your age is having this kind of reaction going up a flight of stairs, he's got a serious condition, and you're perfectly fine."
"That's bullshit. I never work out, and there were a lot of stairs."
"I'm referring to what you were doing after the stairs, Larry."
It’s absolutely futile to make any effort to cover it up, but he tries it anyway, knowing she’s only going to pry even further. "Nothing."
"Larry, as your medical advisor for the moment, I need you to be frank with me,” she says, as expected. “You don't need to go into detail, of course, but please be honest."
"You sound like you already have a guess,” he drawls, making to stand up again. “And I've got to say, what you're suggesting is absolutely ridiculous."
But Miriam grips his shoulder and shoves him back on the edge of Juliana’s hotel bed. "Sit your ass back down, Mr. Businessman."
He rolls his eyes, exhaling dramatically. "Ugh."
"I want you to think about Juliana for a moment,” she instructs him, readying her stethoscope again. “How you feel when you touch her."
Arceus Almighty, this is fucking humiliating. He hasn’t exactly stopped thinking about it, necessarily, but now that she’s said it, he’s imagining what had just transpired much more vividly. Reliving the moment in his head. Reliving other such moments in his head, like that very first night, in his office. The first time he’d taken her to his place. Her place. And how no matter when or where, every time somehow feels like the first time. He takes a deep breath, trying and failing to will his heart to calm, but it won’t.
"Miriam, I don't think this is…"
The nurse peers at her wristwatch and sighs. "Larry, I couldn't even hear what you said. Your heart is jackhammering."
Absolutely fucking humiliating. "Oh, God."
"Here, have some more water,” she says kindly, passing him the glass. “Still feeling dizzy?"
"A bit,” he tells her, feeling his face burning scarlet. “God, Miriam, what's wrong with me?"
"Well, medically, nothing at all. You're a healthy man of forty-five - "
"Forty-six - "
" - and while your accelerated heart rate is a little jarring, it's completely and totally normal."
He snorts. "Normal?"
"Mhm! I clocked you just now at about one fifty-five BPM, which is pretty average for say, someone doing a pretty intense workout. A little scary, since you're just sitting down, but see? A couple deep breaths, and you're down to one-thirty already."
Miriam smiles kindly, carrying herself with the sort of grace only a woman of her profession could as she lifts her stethoscope away once again, hanging it around her neck. She sits in the chair opposite him, folding her hands in her lap, making sure he finishes the water.
"I don't mean to pry, and while we're not in my office, same rules still apply - whatever is said in my examination space stays between us, so…"
Oh, the hell with it - listening to his heartbeat is likely the most damning thing in the world, anyway. It can’t hurt to talk to someone about it, at this point, so Larry just shrugs, groaning. "Miriam, all I did was kiss her. And I've kissed her before. Why on earth would I be having such a reaction now, of all times?"
She melts into giggles, shaking her head and giving him that Look. That Look that women give you when they know something you don’t particularly want them knowing. "Oh, Larry…"
"I hate when you do that thing with your eyes, Miriam."
"You're so oblivious it's funny. Has it really been so long since your last relationship, Larry?"
Relationship. Larry snorts. Yeah, his marriage and eventual divorce, but she wouldn’t know anything about that. Not many people do. It really was that long ago, now. He frowns.
"I…I guess it has."
"Long enough for you to forget what an excited heartbeat feels like."
"It was pounding out of my chest, Miriam, I thought I was going to die."
"You're so dramatic, Larry," she sighs, giggling softly. "Really, though, if I have to call it anything, I'm just diagnosing you with lovesick and horny."
God. Larry rakes a hand over his face. He is so tired. "Ugh. This is mortifying. So, what, is it gonna feel like this every time?"
"Possibly, depending on how emotional you get,” she explains, matter-of-factly. “Maybe think about going a little slower for a while?"
"It was just a kiss,” he says. “A very…enthusiastic kiss, granted, but you can't get much slower than a kiss."
"I meant up here,” she says, tapping at her temple. “Start talking a little more about your feelings, and they'll scare you a little less. I guarantee that's another big part of it."
"I'm not afraid of my emotions."
Miriam narrows her eyes. "One seventy-two BPM when I first took your pulse, Larry; you might wanna rethink that statement."
He snorts through a chortle. "You're just loving this, aren't you?"
"Can you blame me? The most interesting thing I've seen all week is a broken arm."
The both of them share a little bit of a laugh, until Larry nods toward the door.
"She's still out there?"
Miriam peers through the peep-hole. "Yep!"
The thought should relieve him, but it doesn’t. "God, I have a headache."
"You don't have to rush back out there, you know,” she tells him. “Drink some more water and lie down. You want me to let her back in?"
Larry considers it, figuring it’s probably not the best thing for his nervous system to see her right away, but, he’s really only thinking about how worried she must be. And how he doesn’t want to make her wait in agony. "Sure. Just be discreet if she asks any questions, okay?"
"Of course. But just between us, this is like, the cutest thing ever,” the nurse squeals. “I'm almost jealous! Nobody's ever been so in love with me they thought they were having a heart attack!"
"I'm sure someone will have a crisis like this over you one day, Miriam,” he drones, flopping back against the mattress.
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Larry,” she says spritely. He just sighs again.
"Don't mention it."
"Well, I'll buzz her in, if you're ready."
"Thanks."
Juliana stumbles back into the room, wide-eyed and disheveled. "Is everything alright?"
"Good to go! Just a spell, nothing crazy!” Miriam assures her, and the way her words seem to bring her instant relief is a wonder in itself. “I was just telling Larry a little more exercise should help regulate his blood pressure. Nothing to worry about!"
"Oh, thank goodness,” she says, pulling Miriam into a hug. The two women kiss each other’s cheeks, and with one last wink, the nurse is out the door, leaving him alone with the object of his affections once again.
And once again, Larry feels his heart begin to race.