February 27th, 2008 Riley
TITLE: Inamorata (7/?)
PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Women’s Murder Club does not belong to me. The characters do not belong to me. They are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. I have no problems with that as long as I can borrow them for short bursts and use them in pursuit of my own enjoyment. I am not trying to infringe. Though, I don’t know why anyone has a problem with fan fic. After all, it really is a compliment. If anyone wants to write fan fiction about my book, feel free.
It wasn’t merely an excuse. Cindy played a large part in helping their current case find some traction. She had good reason to be around.
Claire’s office had served as the setting for several short meetings, and there had been a brief gathering in Jill’s office that Lindsay had no idea Cindy would be present for until she walked in and saw the redhead scrawling what Jill was telling her as if she were a steno for the D.A.’s office.
They’d seen each other fourteen times. Fourteen times in three days, which was certainly a nice change of pace from hardly at all. But at no time in the past three days had they been alone. And it was Really. Fucking. Frustrating. While the late night phone calls were compensating to some extent, they could hardly make up for the level of agitation Lindsay felt every time she was in a room with Cindy and had to pretend that everything was business as usual and keep her hands to herself.
And now they’d been summoned to a meeting in Tom’s office. At least she, Jacobi, Claire and Jill had. Cindy had just come in with the rest of the club and seemed unmoved by the fact that Tom kept giving her looks that clearly questioned whether or not she should be there. Lindsay could hardly blame Cindy for helping herself to a spot at the table. After all, she’d gathered more necessary information than anyone in the department. When they solved this case, Cindy was owed one very expensive dinner. Lindsay just wished she could be the one to do the rewarding. But that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. That would be way too satisfying. There was, apparently, no place for satisfaction in her life at the time being. Clearly, her lot was to endure excruciating sexual tension.
Of course, at the moment, some of the torture she was experiencing was self-inflicted. She could have let Cindy stand across the room, but, instead, she had repositioned the moment Cindy walked through the door, making room for her against Tom’s filing cabinet. She didn’t, however, provide enough space that Cindy didn’t have to sit right up against her, or so that leaning her weight back onto her hand didn’t mean having her arm around Cindy’s back.
It was that very position that kept bringing the recurring hypothetical to Lindsay’s mind of whether it would be too obvious to ask everyone else to leave and close the blinds for like fifteen minutes. It was really in all of their best interest. Her level of distraction was so extreme that she was of absolutely no use in this meeting as she was.
“Maybe it was someone who knows the photographer,” Cindy said, apparently not quite as sidetracked by their proximity. “Maybe it’s a set up.”
“We’ve considered that,” Jacobi responded to her.
“How exactly did you happen upon this in the first place?” Tom asked.
Everyone in the room could tell that it was more challenge than it should have been. Including Lindsay. When she looked over at him, he had his arms crossed in the “Look, I’m formidable” pose she’d come to hate since he’d been made lieutenant.
“Shouldn’t we just be glad we have it, Tom?” she jumped to Cindy’s defense. “Who cares how she got it?”
“The D.A.’s office is going to care if it was obtained illegally and they can’t use it in court,” Tom argued.
“I’m cool,” Jill responded, much to Tom’s chagrin.
Since he couldn’t fight all three of them, Tom huffed and changed course.
“Fine. How many people on the list do we have left to talk to?”
Lindsay allowed Jacobi to answer the question. The conversation continued without her, and she suspected without Cindy, who couldn’t seem to ignore her presence any longer. And it was a reckless moment when she realized that no one besides Cindy could possibly hear a whisper from her. So, she turned her head, softly breathing in Cindy’s direction -
“I am dying to touch you.”
Cindy tensed instantly. She raised her hand and ran her fingers through her hair. Her hard swallow led Lindsay’s eyes down to the ‘V’ in her shirt, which, from her angle, exposed an incredible amount of skin. The combination of scents coming from Cindy’s body proved dangerously intoxicating. Lindsay was never going to get through this meeting without attacking. There wasn’t enough willpower in the world. A Buddhist monk would give into the temptation that was Cindy at the moment.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Cindy announced suddenly, standing up, and sparing Lindsay the embarrassment of falling face first into her cleavage. “Sorry. I really can’t hold it.”
A host of bewildered expressions met Cindy’s unexpected proclamation, and followed her to the door. Lindsay thought she deserved a medal for her discretion as she glanced back. It was unlikely that anyone else in the room, save for maybe Jacobi, even noticed the fleeting look.
“Okay,” Tom said, trying to get back on track, as soon as the door closed again. “So, where were -”
“I’ve gotta go too,” Lindsay interrupted, jumping to her feet. There was only an instant of hesitation, before she removed her gun from her waistband and laid it on Tom’s desk. “Keep an eye on that for me, would you?”
She didn’t even bother to look back to see what kind of looks she had drawn from her friends.
When they scurried to meet her as she reached the bottom of the stairs, Lindsay gave her detail the usual “I’m just going to the bathroom” that always bought her a few unaccompanied moments. Then, she rushed down the hall as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself and pushed through the bathroom door.
Cindy turned from the sinks and Lindsay didn’t even break her stride to make sure they were alone. She wrapped her arms instantly around Cindy’s neck and kissed her. Cindy’s arms slipped around her back, her hands moving up beneath the fabric of her shirt to set Lindsay’s skin on fire. God, it felt like it had been forever since they’d done anything but talked about this.
Lindsay trailed her hands to the silky skin of Cindy’s throat, repeatedly kissing soft, welcoming lips. She felt Cindy’s fingernails scratch across either side of her back and pulled away with a moan, waiting for Cindy’s eyes to open. When they did, and Lindsay saw the need in them, she knew that a little make out session wasn’t going to cut it for either of them.
She latched onto Cindy’s lips again, backing her further into the room, reaching her hand out past Cindy to feel her way along the doors to the handicapped stall at the end. She led Cindy inside and slammed the door closed, and Cindy’s hand automatically reached out, somehow finding the lock and securing it.
Lindsay turned and pushed Cindy against the stall wall, not realizing how forcefully until she heard Cindy’s muted “oomph”.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly.
Cindy laughed, the light sound pulsing against Lindsay’s mouth.
“I think I saw a dirty movie like this once.”
“The girls in those movies never look like you,” Lindsay countered, fighting with Cindy’s determined, wandering hands. “God, just let me touch you. Please.”
She chose to take Cindy putting her palms against the stall to brace herself as unspoken permission to have her way with her.
Since it’s all that they had been able to do for weeks, foreplay seemed kind of redundant, so Lindsay skipped any prelude, grabbed the back of Cindy’s knee and hoisted her foot onto the back of the toilet. It wasn’t exactly idyllic, but it was functional, and it was the best that they could hope for at the moment. Then, she unbuttoned and unzipped Cindy’s light gray chinos, and slid her left hand inside. Her right hand latched onto the top of the stall and her thigh moved between Cindy’s legs to hold her in place.
Her eyes closed at the feel of thick hot moisture coating her fingers, and when she opened them, Cindy’s head was leaned back against the stall, watching her intently. Open, palpable desire swam in light brown eyes until she pressed inside and Cindy’s eyes closed instantaneously, her breath coming out in a short pant.
It all seemed sort of familiar, their positions, the urgency. It was very much like that night in her room at the safe house, only gentler, and this time was going to end a whole lot differently, that Lindsay could vow. She stepped in, eliminating any space, pushing deeper. She couldn’t get close enough.
Cindy’s hand grasped tightly to her shoulder, the other coming up to clutch a handful of dark hair, her nails pleasantly grazing the back of Lindsay’s head as she grabbed on.
“God Baby,” Cindy exhaled against the side of her face.
Her lips parted slightly, rapid breaths spilling from them as they hovered right below Lindsay’s own. Lindsay couldn’t stand not kissing them, so she gave in. Cindy whimpered, the hand in her hair pulled Lindsay closer, and Lindsay pressed her palm in harder, picking up the tempo, because they, sadly, didn’t have all day. The next few minutes were lost much too quickly to a cadence of forceful, needy kisses, relentless touching, and restrained sounds of pleasure.
When Cindy’s legs started shaking, Lindsay pushed up tighter against her to keep her from falling. When Cindy wrenched her lips away, gasping for breath, Lindsay’s mouth automatically fastened to Cindy’s throat just beneath her jaw. And when she could hear Cindy’s struggle to keep quiet, Lindsay did everything she could to make sure that she couldn’t, starting with trailing her tongue across sweet-tasting skin to suck an earlobe into her mouth and continuing with adding another finger and pressing her thigh insistently against the back of her hand. It was impetuous and immature, and when Cindy’s arms tightened around her neck, pulling her in closer, and Cindy let out a brief, but loud, shout before it turned into a lengthier, quieter moan, it was worth it. It was how they could be without all the restrictions, without the constant supervision.
But it wasn’t the brightest thing Lindsay had ever done.
The sound of the knock was barely audible over Cindy’s ragged breaths in her ear. A moment later, a male voice called in at them.
“Miss Thomas… are you okay?”
Careful to support the weakened body before her, Lindsay slowly extracted her hand, watching Cindy’s eyes temporarily flutter closed as it trailed against her. When her hand came free, Lindsay lifted it to her lips, sucking the tips of her fingers. Cindy watched the purposeful action, her chest rising and falling heavily.
“Yes,” Cindy finally managed, semi-coolly, but totally breathless. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Her eyes were still locked on Lindsay’s, her hand moving down through Lindsay’s hair, tugging lightly. Lindsay fought back a groan.
“And, uh, Inspector Boxer? You?” the man asked nervously.
Cindy sighed and let up her firm hold on Lindsay’s hair.
“Alive and kicking,” Lindsay answered. “Feel free to wait outside.”
“Yeah. Sorry,” she heard the guy mumble quietly and then the door closed behind him.
Cindy’s head fell against her shoulder, her muffled laughter warming Lindsay’s chest.
“You think he drew the short straw?” Lindsay asked, pulling Cindy’s leg down, and turning the now very pliable body around in her arms.
She stepped backward and sunk down to the floor against the wall, Cindy collapsing gently in her lap. Cindy didn’t seem to have any problem with being cradled. She laid her head on Lindsay’s chest over her heart, before raising her head to look at Lindsay.
“That wasn’t particularly romantic,” she whispered.
It wasn’t a complaint.
“I know. Our options are a little bit limited here. It’s better than nothing, right?
“Uh, yeah,” Cindy nodded. “But what about you?”
“All I’ve wanted to do for the last two weeks is touch you,” Lindsay responded honestly. “You have no idea how good I am.”
“Oh, I think I have some idea,” Cindy teased, her hands once again starting to roam. “Okay. Then what about me?”
Lindsay felt her body respond instantly as Cindy’s hands moved over her breasts to clasp onto her shoulders. Cindy pulled her forward into a kiss, and Lindsay wanted nothing more than to give into it. Instead, she acted against every craving she had and broke the kiss.
“You’re going to have to wait,” she said, drawing Cindy’s sexiest pout. “Unless you consider continuous interruptions by the cavalry a turn on.”
Cindy’s expression turned resigned, with a very real hint of underlying anger.
“When we are done with this case, we are refocusing our efforts. This bastard has no right to have this much influence over our lives.”
She moved as if to get up, and Lindsay wrapped her arms tighter around Cindy’s waist, holding her down.
“Not yet.”
She didn’t care if it sounded like she was begging, because, right now, for two extra minutes with Cindy, begging was on the moderate end of things she would do.
Cindy looked crestfallen as she turned back toward her. And equally as gorgeous.
Lindsay smiled softly and tucked a thick lock of red hair behind Cindy’s ear.
“I love you,” she said simply. Honestly.
She needed for Cindy to know. She’d just been waiting for the chance to tell her in person.
The clouds seemed to lift a little. Cindy smiled, leaning in to give Lindsay the sweetest kiss she had ever experienced.
“And I absolutely, unequivocally, undeniably love…,” Cindy murmured, “…that you just nailed me in a public restroom.”
She got it out completely straight-faced, but as soon as she said it, Cindy couldn’t hold out. Lindsay burst into laughter too. Which felt almost as good as the activities of the moment prior. It was one of the other things it felt like they never got to do anymore.
Cindy’s arms wrapped around her neck and Lindsay tightened her arms around Cindy’s waist, hugging her close, trying to memorize the gentle vibrations of her laughter, because she couldn’t be sure when she might hear them again.
“I love you,” she said again.
“I love you,” Cindy softly whispered back.
They stayed like that, without any kind of movement, for several satisfying minutes.
“Should we give our hall monitor a break?” Lindsay finally asked, picturing the poor guy standing outside the door, checking his watch regularly, not knowing whether he should wait it out or check in.
“Screw it,” Cindy said, without letting go. “Let’s wait until he comes in after us.”
They did, providing them a few additional moments. When he finally did knock again, calling out “Everything still okay?,” Lindsay and Cindy got to their feet. Lindsay tugged Cindy to her by the front of her pants, refastening them for her. She gave Cindy an extended, silent kiss, and moved away from the door so that Cindy could walk out.
“Oh,” Lindsay heard Cindy’s appointed guardian utter, clearly surprised by her sudden appearance. “All finished?”
“Let’s hope,” Cindy quipped.
Lindsay leaned against the wall, listening to the water turn on and off in the sink.
“Do you think Inspector Boxer will be okay?”
“I have faith she can navigate her way back from the restroom,” Cindy responded.
Lindsay smirked. If Cindy was trying to hide her sarcasm, she did a very poor job of it.
Then, Cindy left with her aggravating bodyguard, and Lindsay was by herself.
She sighed heavily.
So much for alone time together.
Posted in fan fiction | 5 Comments »
February 26th, 2008 Riley
When I arrived at work today, my badge to get in the door wasn’t working. I called my boss and someone was sent down to let me in. I questioned whether or not this was a fluke, because when I recently moved, I didn’t get a home phone, so my staffing agency had no way of reaching me if they so chose to call and fire my ass. Later in the day, I decided it really was just a fluke, because my boss came by to tell me that my badge should be working again.
At the end of the day, though, the boss stopped by my desk again to tell me to call my staffing agency. Oh ho… I don’t believe in two massive, and highly connected, coincidences happening in one day without reason. I was sure that I was going to be relieved of my duties. So, I called before I left work.
They didn’t fire me!
I was told that my boss is concerned about my attendance, because I’ve been leaving early a lot to meet presidents and such. According to the staffing agency chic, they are quite happy with my work though. They don’t want to lose me. I do a terrific job when I’m there.
Are these people on crack?!?
Because they are right. I do a good job when I am at the office. But I don’t do THE job. As in, the one they are paying me for.
Somehow, I managed to keep it together, because in my mind our conversation went a little something like this:
STAFFING CHIC: They said you do a great job when you’re there. They really don’t want to lose you.
ME: Heh.
STAFFING CHIC: I’m sorry?
ME: Nothing. Please continue.
STAFFING CHIC: So, if you could just commit to working the forty-hour week for the next few weeks.
Thinking about how I am being begged to allow them to pay me for even more hours that I don’t actually work, I try to suppress my mirth. Unable to contain my glee at my rebel greatness, a snicker pops out.
STAFFING CHIC: Did you just laugh?
ME: No?
STAFFING CHIC: Okay. You’ll work forty hours?
ME: I’ll be here.
STAFFING CHIC: Great.
Judging by the fact that she allows me to get away with not actually answering the question, I determine she is an Obama-supporter and promptly end the conversation.
After I hang up the phone, I gather my belongings and head out of the office, only to return once again tomorrow…
Because, clearly, I, Riley LaShea, am fire resistant.
Posted in I Am A Rebel Because... | 2 Comments »
