TITLE: Temporary Girlfriend (18/20)
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.

(Cindy’s POV)

It could have been worse, she guessed. Lindsay could have not kissed her at all. Of course, it could have also been considerably better. That peck was definitely lacking in comparison to the kisses they’d shared prior. Those kisses all felt like they were going somewhere, like they were little arrows pointing to a vastly desirable destination. The kiss in the car, if you could even give it such a distinguished credit, was more like a stop sign. Thanks for the ride. It’s been fun. Now, hit the brakes. Gotta bail.

It was quite contradictory.

Of course, the before kisses had taken place when she and Lindsay were “girlfriends”. Maybe now they were just friends again? Lindsay did put a lot into her work, so it was certainly possible that she’d been in character the whole time, but if she was going for realism, there were definitely times when Cindy had bought into it. Then again, maybe it was real there, and it just wasn’t going to continue here.

Oh, who the hell knew? Trying to figure out Lindsay’s thinking was like trying to walk right up to Area 51. You were strongly warned against it, and if you tried too hard, you were liable to get yourself shot. Lindsay’s non-kiss was nothing that a pint of Haagen-Dazs Rocky Road couldn’t fix. Well, maybe not fix, but at least ease somewhat.

Cindy was a quarter of the way through the container, and halfway through an online article entitled “Complicated Relationships: Are they worth it?”, when the door buzzer sounded. She set her laptop down on the floor beside her and the ice cream on the end table, and went to the call box.

“Yeah?” she said, pressing the button. It was lax in comparison to her usual call box manners, but she wanted to return to her moping.

“Can I come up?” requested the unnaturally timid voice.

“Uh yeah,” Cindy responded in surprise, buzzing her in.

Wondering what in the hell Lindsay was doing back there, she turned to her living room and determined it wasn’t exactly in a state for greeting company. At least company she cared about not looking like a slob in front of. She made a mad dash around the room, picking up clothes and books and tried shoving them all onto the bookshelf, which was useless because it was already more than full. In the end, she just threw the clothes into the corner and stacked the books in front of the heap. She closed her laptop, set it on the desk, and sprinted the ice cream into the kitchen, just in time for Lindsay’s knock. Pausing to run her fingers around her lips in case of chocolate residue, Cindy opened the door to find Lindsay leaning against the doorframe in a manner that could only be described as “deliberately casual”.

“Hey,” Lindsay said, with a small smile.

“Hey,” Cindy returned and waited.

She was expecting something more. After all, Lindsay was the one standing in her doorway, but Lindsay just stared in at her, then laughed lightly and looked away, clearly in no hurry to explain her presence.

“Something wrong?” Cindy asked.

“Yeah,” Lindsay said offhandedly, then quickly looked up. “No. No, no, no, no, no.”

It was a flailing backpedal if ever Cindy saw one.

“Not wrong,” Lindsay clarified, taking a deep breath. “I was down in the car thinking.”

“This whole time?”

“Mm hm,” Lindsay hummed quietly, pausing for another sustained inhalation that Cindy was starting to suspect was actually a stalling technique. “I… um… I… I have a thing for you.”

Then again, if that was the kind of information she was going to get every time Lindsay hesitated, Cindy could very easily learn to live with the habit.

“You have a thing for me?”

“Yes,” Lindsay answered without a moment’s delay, surprising Cindy somewhat. She’d anticipated more hedging on the issue. Maybe an “I think so,” or a “Possibly.” But Lindsay’s affirmative seemed quite affirmative.

“What kind of thing?”

Lindsay’s lips twitched upward, like she expected no less than a cross-examination on the subject.

“A thing thing,” she answered. “I invited you along for a reason.”

“You said I’m good at gathering information,” Cindy reminded her, trying to keep her hopes, and hormones, in check.

“And you are,” Lindsay said, then stopped for another sustained inhale and exhale. “But I also wanted some time alone with you… to get to know you… to figure out if this thing that’s between us is actually a something.”

Even as the warm sensation spread through her, corroborating the strange notion that Lindsay had just spoken fairly candidly about their relationship, Cindy felt the need to fact check.

“There’s a thing between us?”

“Uh,” Lindsay faltered, her confident power stance deteriorating slightly. “I thought… we… you… um…”

“You mean, the long stares, the suggestive banter, and, now, the holding hands for no reason, any excuse we can think of to kiss thing?” Cindy calmly asked.

“Yeah,” Lindsay smiled softly, relieved. “That thing.”

“Oh,” Cindy responded, feeling relieved herself. “So, are you gonna come in, or did you want to have this entire conversation with one foot in the safety zone?”

Cindy eyed Lindsay’s offending appendage, and Lindsay seemed surprised to realize she was still halfway out in the hallway. She stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind her. When she turned back around, there was something altogether beguiling in her expression.

“But we don’t need an excuse to kiss right?” Lindsay asked.

“No,” Cindy whispered, feeling suddenly keyed up and dangerously optimistic.

“Good. Because I meant to do this in the car.”

Then Lindsay’s hands were on her cheeks and Lindsay’s mouth was on hers, attacking with lips and tongue and an overwhelming presence, until Cindy had no choice but to fight back with her own arsenal of oral talents. Her tongue dueled Lindsay’s for dominance and, whether or not it surprised Lindsay when she finally took charge, the moan the maneuver elicited was something Cindy took supreme pride in.

As quickly as she gained control, she lost it again, because Lindsay’s hand slid over her butt to the inside of her thigh, and Lindsay’s leg pushed forward between her own, and she could barely stay upright, let alone dominate. She had no complaints.

When they finally parted for breath, Lindsay leaned her forehead against Cindy’s, panting.

“Chocolaty.”

Cindy broke into an exhilarated giggle that Lindsay’s next words brought to an abrupt end.

“I should go.”

“What?” Cindy asked. “Why?”

Nah… that didn’t sound at all desperate.

“I don’t have to?” Lindsay’s shock was genuine.

‘Are you out of your fucking mind?’ was the first phrase that popped into Cindy’s head, but she managed a rather demure -

“No.” Then, she kissed Lindsay again, eager to find out exactly how far Lindsay’s hand was planning to go. A sudden, unwelcome thought made her pull back again. “Unless you want to leave.”

“I don’t,” Lindsay quickly assured her. “But if I stay, this is definitely…”

She didn’t finish. She just nodded to emphasize how definite it was. Cindy quite adeptly got the point.

“I’m pretty good at following sequence. I know what happens if you stay.”

“And you want that, right?”

It was real concern, and, of course, there were plenty of causes for it. They had the club, their jobs, and, most importantly, their friendship, which Cindy definitely couldn’t handle losing. But she didn’t know if she could trade in one emotion for the other, and she wanted this too. Right now, almost more than she could stand it.

It wasn’t like her to be quite so bold, at least not in this area, but, then, it wasn’t like Lindsay to be so timid. If one of them didn’t do something, they were never going to get anywhere.

Cindy tried to hold Lindsay’s gaze, but Lindsay’s eyes were quickly lost to the lure of what Cindy’s hands were doing as she unbuttoned and unzipped her own khakis. As she drew Lindsay’s hand from where it was resting on her hip, Lindsay finally looked up at her again, and when she led that hand inside the front of her pants, Lindsay’s eyes drifted closed an instant before her own did.

Lindsay’s hand wasn’t idle. It moved further down of its own free will, and Lindsay’s fingertips were gliding rather purposefully. Standing became infinitely more difficult, so Cindy clutched onto Lindsay’s shoulders, listening to the sound of Lindsay’s rapid, forceful breaths.

It was some time later when she opened her eyes to find Lindsay staring at her. The doubt had been replaced by something considerably more assured, but Lindsay was still seeking her permission. As if the fact that she placed Lindsay’s hand in its current position in the first place wasn’t consent enough.

“It would be really cruel for you to leave,” Cindy murmured.

Apparently, that was all that Lindsay needed. Lindsay’s lips found hers again, and Lindsay walked her backward, though Cindy felt more like she was being carried, as little use as her legs currently were to her. The only thing keeping her from ending up on the floor was Lindsay’s arm around her waist.

“We’re really doing this?” Lindsay breathed against her lips.

Which Cindy also found cruel. She was barely in a state to function on the most autonomic level. She was really in no condition to carry on a conversation.

“We’re really doing this.”

“It’s not going to change anything?” Lindsay asked.

“No.”

“And it’s not just a one time thing?”

“Linds,” the name came out a groan. “I never thought I’d have to say this to you, but shut up.”

The backs of Cindy’s knees hit the couch, and she nearly fell down on it. She would have been very grateful to land, but Lindsay held her up, impatiently pushing at her khakis. Cindy helped, stripping away her pants and panties, and Lindsay wasted no time in dropping her down onto the cushions. She kneeled before her, her free hand instantly going to the snaps on Cindy’s retro button-up, her other still intimately occupied between Cindy’s legs. To keep Lindsay focused on the task from which Cindy really didn’t want her distracted, Cindy pulled all the snaps of her shirt open in one swift motion and peeled it off her shoulders.

As soon as there was skin available, Lindsay affixed her mouth to the pale expanse of her chest. Her open lips made a wet trail from Cindy’s collarbone down between her breasts. Then Lindsay’s tongue moved across the fabric of her bra, and she gently flicked the hard nipple beneath at the same time that her fingers possessively slipped inside.

Cindy moaned, her hips instantly bucking against Lindsay’s hand.

Lindsay’s lips traveled downward, kissing and licking across the expanse of Cindy’s abdomen, from one side to the other and back again, her hand never ceasing its unhurried, perfect rhythm.

Cindy blamed her very expeditious orgasm on the effective blend of waiting too long for this and that circular thing Lindsay was doing with her thumb. At any rate, it didn’t take any way near as long as usual. Her right hand clutched the back of the couch. The fingertips of her left dug hard into Lindsay’s shoulder. Her back arched skyward and Lindsay seamlessly followed the movement, her lips never breaking contact with Cindy’s skin.

“Jesus,” Cindy exclaimed, falling back against the cushions, trembling uncontrollably and gloriously satisfied, possibly for the first since she drew Lindsay into that exploratory kiss just over a week before.

“Thought you weren’t particularly religious,” Lindsay quipped, and Cindy laughed throatily, still struggling to catch her breath.

Lindsay’s hand pulled away, only for her tongue to dip teasingly into Cindy’s bellybutton before she started kissing downward slowly.

Part of Cindy was admonishing the fact that she was even considering an interruption. The other part was much too aware of the crick in her neck and the fact that Lindsay was still kneeling on the floor. When she grabbed a handful of Lindsay’s hair, tugging gently to halt her descent, and Lindsay looked up, unconsciously licking her lips, it took everything Cindy had in her to not let go of Lindsay, wave her on, and say “As you were.”

“I do have a bed,” she reminded Lindsay, finding the strength to lean forward, pulling Lindsay up with her as she stood.

It wasn’t the most graceful walk Cindy had ever taken into her bedroom. Her legs were trembling like a newborn foal, and Lindsay started kissing her again the moment she started walking, which challenged both her sense of direction and her ambulatory abilities. As a result, they tripped more than once and she misjudged the location of the doorway, walking backward into the wall hard enough that Lindsay stopped to ask if she was okay. But since she’d managed to get her bra and socks off and completely strip Lindsay by the time they made it to the bed, Cindy considered it a highly successful journey.

Later, after she’d spent hours worshipping a very willing Lindsay, because there was nothing in her life that Cindy did half-assed, and, even if there was, Lindsay was the last thing that would ever be relegated to such a list, and she was lying with Lindsay’s arms around her, wondering how long Lindsay would stay with her before she got up to go home, only to come out of her thoughts and realize that Lindsay was already sound asleep against her back, Cindy decided it was a highly triumphant night on all accounts.