TITLE: Extreme Sensitivity… as foreplay. (14/?)
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. (Well, not anymore. Jackasses.) 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.

Despite the fact that the table was plenty small enough to make it easy to do so without relocating, sharing dessert offered a perfect excuse for Cindy to scoot her chair around next to Lindsay’s. It had seemed an excellent idea when it first occurred to her. Now, knee bumping lightly against Lindsay’s and the heat of the body beside her a serious distraction, just getting the spoon to her lips without losing its contents to her lap felt like an Olympic-worthy challenge.

Then there was the fact that Lindsay was left-handed, freeing up her right hand to casually rest on the back of her chair, where explorative fingers couldn’t seem to stop moving against her back.

Hand shaking ever so slightly, Cindy managed a bite, hissing as she felt the scald of a too hot apple against her lip. A quickly gathered scoop of ice cream helped ease the pain, but tears still pricked her eyes in reaction.

“Are you okay?” Lindsay’s voice husked from beside her.

Knowing better than to turn her head and look into those close, concerned eyes, Cindy nodded.

“Yeah. It’s just hot.”

“Are you sensitive to temperatures or something?”

“Kind of,” Cindy responded, “but that really is hot.”

“It’s not that hot,” Lindsay grinned, closing her mouth around a big spoonful of warm fruit and pastry to prove the point.

After watching that mouth move minutely as Lindsay chewed and swallowed, and Lindsay’s tongue slide out to lick her bottom lip, sending a very warm surge up through her, Cindy raised her eyes to find herself the focus of an amused, somewhat pompous, gaze.

“We don’t all have mouths of steel, you know?” she teased, casting her eyes back toward the dessert as she once again dug her spoon in with a vengeance, experiencing a sudden ravenous hunger for something sweet and mouth-watering. “Some of us have extremely sensitive pallets.”

Lindsay’s hand covered hers, preventing Cindy from bringing the freed bite up to her lips, and she turned a pout on her oppressor. When she saw the scheming expression Lindsay was wearing, Cindy didn’t know if she should swoon or be terrified. Lindsay’s next husked words didn’t help any with the decision.

“Close your eyes.”

“What? Why?” she asked, heart racing in earnest, each subsequent breath a little harder to come by.

She could only watch the spoon float away as it was stolen from her hand and Lindsay transferred it to the furthest reaches of the plate, where any attempts at retrieving it would easily be blocked by a lanky arm.

“You don’t trust me?” she asked, body rotating in Cindy’s direction and sliding closer.

Of course Lindsay would pose such a question, leaving her no choice but to comply. Cindy dithered for as long as she dared, and then closed her eyes, abandoning herself to Lindsay’s whims.

Hot breath against her ear forced her mouth open involuntarily, a soft gust of air audibly expelling from it.

“Still hurting?”

Cindy tried to think.

“No,” she whispered, sensing Lindsay’s proximity as surely as if they were touching.

The clink of utensil to plate paired with Lindsay’s gently spoken request sent a shudder through her she was sure had to be visible. But it wasn’t of fear. It was excitement. With a little side dish of something very closely related to desire.

“Open your mouth.”

Helpless but to comply, Cindy felt the chill of cinnamon ice cream being laid carefully on her tongue.

“Cold?”

The searing exhalation against her skin made it seem anything but.

“It is ice cream,” she responded, proud of how well she reigned in any noticeable quiver of her voice.

Apparently smart mouthing would be no deterrent to the rather unexpected behavior of her date, because Lindsay just chuckled in response.

“You’re so smart.”

They were hardly the only ones in the restaurant doing disgustingly romantic things at their table. Cindy had witnessed several PDAs during dinner that made her wonder if her friend at work had neglected to tell her that this place was half restaurant, half sex club.

Another telling sound of the spoon digging into the dessert and Cindy felt the warmth of the spoon against her bottom lip before opening to the combination of apple and crumbling topping. It was cooler than before but strikingly warm in comparison to the last bite.

“It’s not too hot is it?”

Lindsay’s breath had moved from her ear to her lips and something about the sensation in the moment nearly caused a reflexive groan. Hand gripping the table hard, Cindy could feel Lindsay’s eyes on her, and could manage only a shake of her head. When exactly did food consumption become an erotic experience? It’s not like she had never eaten before. She’d even been fed before, but she couldn’t recall it ever having been quite so… stimulating.

The unmistakable clatter of Lindsay putting the spoon down filled the air and then it was almost too silent. Cindy was almost desperate to sneak a peek, but knew she’d get caught at it. That… and she was finding the element of surprise rather seductive.

“Open,” Lindsay’s low voice commanded.

Jaw dropping at the word as if bewitched to do so, Cindy’s eyes snapped open as well when her tongue met with something so cold that she had to bite back a yelp of surprise. Lindsay grinned wickedly at her, but Cindy was focused on the chunk of ice between her fingers that she’d somehow managed to silently extract from her drink.

As peeved as she attempted to appear, Lindsay either wasn’t buying it, or aghast looks were also not going to discourage her fun.

“Close your eyes,” Lindsay ordered her again, and like the lovesick, madly fixated woman she was, Cindy gave in.

She tried to twist the rest of her face into a scowl as the ice returned and lingered to run across her lips and dipped into her mouth to torture the tip of her tongue. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel good either.

Then, the ice suddenly pulled away, she heard the sound of it dropping onto the plate, and her lips were covered by Lindsay’s with startling vigor. Surprised by the fact that Lindsay was doing all of this in public, that the tongue that penetrated her mouth was so fantastically scorching, and by the sheer possession of Lindsay so vehemently claiming her, Cindy whimpered.

Faint and wobbly when the kiss came to an end, she could hear Lindsay’s labored breathing, making her feel slightly less self-conscious in regards to her own heaving chest.

“How was that?” Lindsay asked, still close enough that her breath singed Cindy’s lips.

A feeble smile coming to her face, Cindy opened her eyes only to find Lindsay looking at her as if the kiss was still in progress.

“Hot,” Cindy murmured.

She could still feel it. And she wanted to feel more of it. She wanted to know exactly how Lindsay’s hands would translate that look onto her body.

“Everything okay over here?” the waiter asked brightly, interrupting the very intimate moment. As a server in one of the most romantic restaurants in town, he’d probably developed a sixth sense for when a couple could potentially go wild and end up shagging on the tabletop.

“Fine. Thanks,” Lindsay responded.

The authoritative cop voice sent him off again in a hurry, but his appearance was enough to remind them that they were in public. Lindsay turned away, taking a prolonged drink from her glass, before looking sidelong at Cindy again.

“So what do you want to do now?”

Oh, she had thoughts.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” Lindsay asked.

“If I learned one thing from the children’s stories I was brought up on, it’s that good girls shouldn’t say such filthy things.”

Lindsay choked on her laughter and the water she’d picked a very bad moment to attempt to drink.

“Let’s go dancing,” Cindy suggested.

Laughter dying, Lindsay’s head whirled around, a look of absolute alarm on her face, and Cindy grinned.

“Well, in my fantasy, that’s what came next. That way I could show you my unbelievably smooth moves and touch you inappropriately in a public venue.”

“We’re in a public venue,” Lindsay tempted. “So you’re telling me I ruined your fantasy?”

“Since you’ve embellished with several pleasurable activities I hadn’t thought up on my own, I’d say you improved it,” she responded honestly. “Besides there will be other dates, ones where you aren’t debilitated. Won’t there?”

Lindsay’s slowly emerging smile and warm gaze answered the question before her words confirmed.

“Yeah. There’ll be other dates,” she husked, eyes dropping to follow the movement of the glass she had taken to twirling between her hands. “There’s this, uh… piano bar not far from here. It’s pretty nice.”

“A piano bar?” Cindy questioned.

Lindsay glanced over with a confused nod.

“You’ve been to a piano bar?”

“Yes,” Lindsay replied, offended.

Cindy just kept watching her, eyes narrowed, certain there had to be a real story in there somewhere. The unwavering stare finally forced a conquered sigh from Lindsay.

“Someone was murdered there,” she admitted.

“Aha! I knew it. Ever the romantic,” Cindy teased.

Lindsay laughed, but it sounded strangely forced and hollow and trailed quickly away.

“I’m tryin’,” she whispered faintly.

Cindy’s amusement yielded to an overwhelming understanding. Her hand reached out, finding Lindsay’s chin and drew the surprisingly easy-to-read face back toward her. Real insecurity leaked through the usually invulnerable façade.

“It sounds nice,” she said.

And not to tease or to entice, but for the singular purpose of reassurance, she leaned over and pressed her lips to Lindsay’s quickly, seeing that spectacular smile reemerge as she pulled away.

She nearly made Will & Grace bearable for me. As it was, she at least made it prettier to look at.

Intelligent AND funny… and she sings. Honestly, what’s not to love? And does anyone do both adorable and stunning so remarkably well?

As for whether or not she has improved with age, I’ll let you decide that for yourself after experiencing this clip from China Beach circa ’89.

Her voice was in top form at any rate.

If you are a Ewan McGregor fan or a fan of movies about travel and adventure and road trips then there is a new movie that you will want to know about. It is a new little movie called Ewan McGregor’s Long Way Down. The movie is about Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman’s epic travel from the top of Scotland to Capetown, South Africa while riding on BMW motorcycles. The film will be released in theaters on July 31st and only on that one date. So if you want to see this in the movie theater be sure to put it on your calendar. Otherwise you just might miss it. But if you do maybe you will be out on your own little adventure road trip. I have been on a few of those. Road trips are fun. But I like to travel in an automobile so that I have things like air conditioning, heat and shelter from the rain and elements. What I am saying is that I could never take a road trip on a motorcycle. Nevermind the fact that I do not have a motorcycle license or anything like that. I just like my comforts of riding along in an air conditioned vehicle and such.

I would like to say “On this, the last day of my corporate employment” period, but I can’t make that proclamation right now. I’ve made it before and then I failed to follow through on that promise to myself. So on this, my last day of my current employment, I would just like to say, “Hallelujah!”

Actually, I just wanted to prove that I could spell that.

But seriously, it’s good to say goodbye. There are a few people that I will miss, but I must make the concerted effort to do something besides settling for a paycheck and a half-life. Hopefully this time the change will be a real change and not just a change in venue.

But now, an homage to the deserving –

To the park across the street, for the good times and the lovely duck pond

To the men on the streets near the office, who had some interesting ideas about what a girl like me really needed

To the ghost who haunts the ladies restroom, because I hate to urinate alone

To Dorene, who provided me with the internet so that I could spend part of my day not working, which is really a basic human right

To Bill, who always had an encouraging word and possibly a slight Cheez-It addiction

To Duane, who shared my love of the Fresh Prince episode where Will was shot and would actually participate in a conversation about it

To Squire B & Lady Trista, who got me out of working on claims for several hours a week and then rewarded me with a gift card for it

To boss man Dennis, who always wanted to discuss politics and, for some strange reason, really didn’t want to fire me

To my Stinky, Bitter Cubicle Neighbor, for giving me the best reason to quit a week earlier than was actually necessary

And to me, for sticking it out and paying off a substantial amount of debt instead of giving into my serious desire to screw this work thing and spend all my time writing, and for getting rid of most of my material possessions to prepare for an even more nomadic lifestyle than the one that I have lived thus far.

It’s called preparing for battle.

This war has raged inside long enough. Time to take it to the streets.

Check this out. You can get high speed Charter internet right now for only $14.99 a month. And if you order online you get a 30 Day Risk free trial and a $25 Shell Gift Card for online orders. Yowza! I have never seen high speed internet that low priced. If I lived in a Charter serviced area I would be all over this deal. Seriously. Saving money and a $25 gas card is too sweet of a deal to pass up. Check it out if you are in their area.

(a completely biased essay on femslashy goodness by Sensei Riley LaShea)

Once upon a time, the cheese stood alone. And the cheese was Xena.

In the time before Xena, there existed in the universe relatively dull substances that occasionally joined together in a union somewhat resembling femslash, but the emergence of girl/girl pairings like fire ants across the barren landscape of fan fiction was due in large part to the simultaneous popularity of Xena and the growth of the internet.

Right time.

Right technology.

Right warrior princess.

The cheese proved that there could, in fact, be strong lesbian underpinnings in a major character on prime time television in puritan America, so long as it wasn’t on a major network.

Since Xena was the beginning, the figurative starting pistol to the femslash dash, Xena and her slashtastic co-goddess Gabrielle shall reign supreme as the undisputed iconic femslash pairing. This I consider an honorary award for longevity and mold-breaking. Not due in any part to them being the best. To be quite honest, I’m no fan of Xena.

Ow. Damn it! Stop throwing sticks!

With that in mind, one could say that any other favorite femslash pairing is simply a matter of personal preference, but what is fan fic if not subjective? If we were objective about it, we would choke down what popular culture force feeds us. Nonsense! I would choke on the grainy blandness of it.

So now, in the way of the ninja, I shall attempt to prove why Lindsay and Cindy of the short-lived and lesbalicious Women’s Murder Club are THE femslash yardstick.

Virtues extolled in order of increasing importance.

~ The First Foot – The Shaggability Scale

It shouldn’t matter, but it does. Let’s acknowledge and move on.

I don’t have to find both halves of a femslash coupling mucho hot to enjoy them together, but it does help. And those pairings are few and far between. In my favorite couples (the only ones I have or do go out of my way to read) I find both halves of the whole exceptionally hot. Besides Lindsay and Cindy, those couples are -

Barbara/Helena (Birds of Prey)
Brooke/Sam (Popular)

- and to a lesser extent –

Jordan/Lu (Crossing Jordan) – with a little more time together, they could have reached the peak, as it was, they are kind of relegated to the femslash sidelines

Then, there was Women’s Murder Club and that first meeting between Lindsay and Cindy, and it sorta felt like this –

“In this corner, we have ‘Sex on Legs,’ thee of the husky voice and the wink.

And in this corner, we have ‘Innocent Until Proven Seductive,’ thee of the shy smile and the oft-appearing tongue.

To whom do we give the advantage?

Possessing diverse charms and bedroom eyes that they both know how to use very well… mostly on each other… it seems a pretty even contest.

So mix up the pudding and let the match begin.

Ding ding.”

Both Angie Harmon and Aubrey Dollar – AND – Lindsay Boxer and Cindy Thomas score exceedingly high on the shaggability scale. If participating in a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven with them seems like a rather blissful way to spend an evening, why wouldn’t we want to watch them experience Seven Minutes in Heaven together?

~ The Second Foot – The Super Sexy Paradox

Logically, they shouldn’t work. But in that paradoxical way of ultimate romance, they just do.

Lindsay and Cindy have the rare dynamic where they are drawn to each other by completely contrasting forces. Somehow they manage to be both ‘like attracts like’ & ‘opposites attract’ at the same time. Considering my favorite pairings, it’s clear that this particular combination really works for me. Lindsay and Cindy trump the others quite spectacularly though.

Cindy is the light to Lindsay’s darkness, the hopeful optimism to Lindsay’s cynicism. She has an eagerness to learn where Lindsay may very well think that she possesses too much wisdom, at least when it comes to human nature. Then, in one area, they converge hard. They share a dedication to case-solving and truth-seeking that goes beyond that of all others. They get each other.

As Paris Hilton so unsuccessfully attempted to trademark – ‘that’s hot’.

~ The Third Foot – Chemistry

I’m going to tell you a story that is highly likely to get me in trouble, but it illustrates this point so well, I must risk it.

I have a dear, sweet, beautiful friend who has in the past, occasionally, been a bit blind to subtext when I have tried to point it out. This is hardly her fault. She was born with hetero-vision and like others with the condition, she must just suffer it. There is no cure.

Or is there?

When my Pammykins came to visit recently (God, she’s going to murder me), I put her through a rigorous crash course in WMC, which, of course, consists of fast-forwarding to all Lindsay/Cindy scenes, aka “the important stuff”.

The following were her reactions… (I am paraphrasing and she can feel free to correct me if I have gotten any facts wrong. My information comes from snippets of conversation and studying the reactions on her heavenly, flawless face. If you do decide to kill me, please make it painless.)

Episode One, Welcome to the Club… in which Cindy experiences love at first sight and immediately offers herself body, mind and soul for Lindsay’s wanton consumption.

The straight girl reaction: “What’s up with those two?”

Episode Two, Train in Vain… in which Cindy’s obsession turns to stalking, it works, and Lindsay realizes that whatever it is Cindy is offering, it’s probably pretty damn tasty.

The straight girl reaction: “Are they doing this on purpose?”

Episode Three, Blind Dates and Bleeding Hearts… in which Cindy demands affection and Lindsay wants to arrest Cindy for charming her pants off in only three episodes.

The straight girl reaction: I felt a veritable shift in the atmosphere, sensing that my friend was suddenly ready to join me in chucking ninja stars at any man who might come between these two destined souls. And we are talking about a hopeless devotee of hetero love here… an open-minded friend of the gays, but a devotee of hetero love none-the-less. (Yes you are! Don’t try to deny it. You would bathe in boy-girl romance if you could. And I love that about you.)

I like to think that I know my darling friend well enough to be fairly certain that in regards to my favorite pairings, she would have been pulling for a het couple instead (Helena/Reese on BoP, Jordan/Woody on CJ, and, if I were the bettin’ kind, I’d put my money on the fact that she would have been all about Sam/Harrison on Popular). I kind of think that, given the chance to fully integrate into the WMC realm though, she would have a hard time seeing past Lindsay and Cindy. I could be wrong. It’s happened before. This could also be skewed by the fact that this is one of those super-intense rivalries where she would never root for the other team in front of me for fear of getting one of those big foam fingers to the head. Oh yeah, for my femslash power couple, I’d do it.

So what makes all the difference? The undeniable, barefaced chemistry. It doesn’t simply simmer. It doesn’t merely marinate. It positively pops. And that very potent connection presents itself in two major ways. The first is the ease and delight with which they interact. They wear their mutual admiration like sexy lingerie. It’s impossible to pull your eyes away and it always draws a smile.

Then, there is the way that they look at each other. That I won’t even try to express. Words would fall miserably short. Let’s just say that it’s utterly scrumptious, it’s more affecting than most screen kisses, and if I tried to explain it, I would get all mushy and poetic to the point that I would totally embarrass myself. Yeah, it’s THAT good. Whatever it was that made them look at each other that way, I approve. Highly.

And now, if you have made it with me this far, we have reached the end of my summation.

In conclusion, I hate arguments that end ‘in conclusion’.

All counterarguments will be thoroughly read and whole-heartedly opposed.

Do you need a new iPod touch or iPod nano? If so you will want to listen on up. You see, I heard from uBid.com that they have over 1,00 iPod Touch and nanos in auctions starting at $1 right now! That means that you have a most excellent chance of winning one of these at a great price. So you should check that out for sure. Remember - All the auctions for iPods will start at $1.00 which is totally sweet. Why so many and so cheap? Well this iPod Auction is being done at uBid because one of their partners had some excess inventory that uBid is helping them unload. The end result is that peeps like you and me get a sweet deal. If you are not familiar with uBid know that they have been around a while and they are different from eBay. You see, uBid is a Business 2 Consumer site so you are getting goods from businesses, not some skank in a nasty house. And best of all, uBid has a 100% fraud-free guarantee and can back that up cause they only deal with businesses. booyah. So be sure to check it out if you are in the market for an iPod touch or nano.

Oh Sally Field, how you did give us one of the most ridiculously needy quotes in the history of awards shows. Bless you.

Anyway –

For those of you who are writers, and I know that at least a few of you are, you know that it’s all about being liked. Maybe not you personally, but your painstakingly put together creations need some recognition for sure. No matter how we may claim “I write for myself. I don’t need nobody’s approval!”, if we weren’t hoping for our writing to connect with someone, to stir some emotion in someone other than ourselves, then we would just think our compositions up in our heads and save a few trees.

We writers are green like that.

Even when writing is only a hobby, it can be an intense, full-time, stressful pastime that causes burnout and brain pain. For wannabe pros, like me, and those on the more obsessive end of the hobby spectrum, it can alter your world until your life becomes less about you than your characters (henceforth known as why Riley is so much fun to know in real life – or – why Riley sometimes wonders if she should seek a proper diagnosis). Then again, it is possible that my characters are just that much more interesting than I am.

Okay, back on point…

I experienced a small moment of Zen earlier this week.

I entered a screenplay of mine into Slamdance a couple of months ago and, because I’ve been needing some industry insider feedback on this particular script, I ponied up for the coverage (this basically gives me an idea as to what the reader thought of my screenplay as they were reading it). And –

Apparently they think it’s quite good. (“This is a very well-written historical drama.”)

Thank all the gods in all the holy heavens in every language on earth, including the ones that I don’t even know exist.

I really, really needed this screenplay to be well-received. Oddly enough, it is both my best screenplay AND the one I think stands the most chance of actually selling. Normally, I wouldn’t expect those two things to go together.

Not only was the coverage helpful in making me think, “Okay, yes. I really do have something here,” it let me know where things went a little bit wrong. Only three suggestions though and they weren’t even hard to swallow. Two of them, I already suspected were possible issues, a little confusing, a little out of place, which is exactly what I was told. The third thing nearly caused a Linda Blair-style head whirl, it was so out of the blue. It was a fairly big plot point that I really thought I left no room to misunderstand. I’m still not sure that I did, and I have theories as to how something that I thought was perfectly clear came across as streaked at best, but those theories matter not. One line of dialogue can clear up that snafu in comprehension, lickety-split. Big problem. Small fix.

All told, it was a damn positive evaluation. We’ll see if that translates into a ranked finish and a prize (some cash would be, you know, helpful), but regardless…They liked the screenplay. This quote tells me so. “The story is very original and will really make a great film when produced.” But I could also actually sense that they liked it. It was apparent. And it matters.

And is it just me, or does anyone else find that ‘when’ kind of encouraging?

You know, with pick up lines like the one in the subject above it is a wonder that some people can ever get a date at all. Fortunately I have been spared from hearing too many pick up lines like this since I have been in a relationship for a long time and do not go to places like clubs. I think I would lose it though if I heard someone say something like that. It makes me think of that Dat Phan joke where he talks about Vietnamese guys’ pickup likes like ” I wonder does your father steal things, cause I wonder who stole the sky from your eyeball, and put it in your belly”. Ah, good stuff. Speaking of, have you played Extreme Style by VO5’s Ultimate Flirting Championship game? You can check it out via the widget below. You can even grab that widget for your own blog. Why not head on over and check it out. It is a fun time to you know, kill a little time at work when you are supposed to be working. Cause who wants to actually work at work?

TITLE: Extreme Sensitivity… as a merciless source of agitation. (13/?)
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. (Well, not anymore. Jackasses.) 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.

(Lindsay’s POV)

She couldn’t read the menu.

All of the words were just floating letters that didn’t really go together and made absolutely no sense.

The lighting was dim, but not too dim to see. The lettering was small, but not too small to be legible. And the restaurant was Japanese, but the menu was in English… she was pretty sure. At least, it had been when she first opened it.

But about three seconds after the waiter handed them those leather-bound tomes and left to fill their drink order, Cindy determined touching necessary and Lindsay jumped as her calf was stroked by a shoeless, contact-seeking foot. Surprised, she’d glanced across the table at the rather satisfied smirk on Cindy’s face, and Cindy just continued to peruse her menu without acknowledgement as if her toes weren’t trekking unhurriedly up and down the length of Lindsay’s lower leg.

So now Lindsay was sidetracked and seemingly illiterate, and not only did she have no idea what she wanted to eat, she wasn’t even sure what her options were. She was desperately aware of only two things:

Cindy’s ruthlessly tantalizing appendage –
           …and her body’s absurdly powerful reaction to it.

Everything else seemed drastically unimportant.

When the waiter returned some minutes later and stood at the edge of the table, she thought then that Cindy would stop.

But Cindy didn’t.

Instead, the foot moved higher, sliding past Lindsay’s knee to the inside of her thigh where it rested in a completely naughty, completely engrossing way, and Lindsay could only close her menu and avoid looking at the waiter as he engaged in small talk with Cindy, small talk of which she personally had not a moment’s comprehension.

As if sexual torment was her latest hobby, Cindy’s foot began to move along Lindsay’s thigh again, and by the time the waiter’s attention finally turned to her, Lindsay knew very well that any attempts on her part to string together more than a few words would result in infantile babbling.

“For you, ma’am?”

Reminding herself that she was a homicide inspector who had faced far worse, Lindsay turned her eyes up and cleared her throat, flushing with the unlikely notion that the waiter could sense just how far up on her thigh Cindy’s foot had progressed.

“I’ll having what she be have.”

She cringed. Well, at least now she just sounded like English was a second language for her.

A burst of laughter from the other side of the table accompanied the stilling of Cindy’s foot against her thigh. When Lindsay’s eyes swung her way, Cindy was valiantly attempting to keep body-shaking giggles in check. Warm brown eyes that regarded her with a slightly guilty glint didn’t help Lindsay’s sense of control any. Instead, ridiculously dreamy notions involving the redhead seemed to infiltrate her brain out of nowhere.

“Linds, I haven’t ordered yet.”

Face going instantly hotter, Lindsay dropped her gaze to her menu, wanting very much to crawl beneath the table and take up residence. Mortification giving her a sudden burst of brain power, and gaze averted, she handed the menu off to the waiter.

“I trust her judgment.”

Cindy took the cue and ordered for them, but Lindsay’s mind followed the retreat of Cindy’s toes back down her extremely sensitive leg, and she still had no idea what she would be eating.

Both profoundly relieved and intensely disappointed, there was at least easier breathing and some mental clarity when the waiter left them alone and Cindy’s foot finally fell away from her ankle.

“I’m sorry,” Cindy offered, and it might have been believable if she didn’t say it with a chuckle.

Lindsay tried to muster up some of that old annoyance from back when they were inspector and meddling reporter, before they were Lindsay and Cindy, before they were friends, before they were this, but could drum up only fond regard and the knowledge that she was way more turned on than was appropriate in their current setting.

Why had they left the apartment again?

Oh yeah. She was determined to prove to Cindy that this wasn’t just some highly combustible chemical thing. Though it was clearly that too. There was something else going on though, something beyond the physical that was considerably more significant, infinitely more frightening, and that took a lot longer. If she’d just wanted to make it with Cindy, she could have ripped her clothes off, laid her on the floor, and been in and out, quite literally, in less than thirty minutes.

The fact that she had made the decision not to jump that gun earlier, when she was in roughly the same state she was in right now, felt like cause for serious self-congratulation. Because right now all she wanted was Cindy, a bed, candlelight, Sarah McLachlan’s Surfacing, and a never-ending supply of energy.

“I guess I kind of had it coming after the stairs.”

“So you were doing that on purpose!”

Face cracking into a broad smile, Lindsay caught Cindy’s eye across the table. With a small shake of her head, Cindy smiled back at her. A nervous kind of energy moved between them. As thoroughly as they knew each other, it was rather unexpected and kind of intriguing.

“This place is nice. I’ve never been here,” Lindsay forced her eyes to roam the room.

“Really?” Cindy seemed surprised. “I’ve brought my last five dates here.”

Oddly affected in a not so good way by the statement, Lindsay’s smile faded, her eyes dropping to the table, where she picked at a warp in the tablecloth that she found suddenly fascinating.

“Linds?”

Trying to look more blasé than she felt, Lindsay glanced up at Cindy. The uncommonly sweet smile she got in return was all the reminder she needed as to why she felt it necessary to date Cindy before they moved onto a more physical type of bonding.

“I’m kidding,” Cindy disclosed softly. “But the food critic at The Register highly recommends it.”

A hushed sigh of relief accompanied Lindsay’s countering grin.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this, Lois Lane.”

“More than you know,” Cindy murmured.

A warm tingle infused Lindsay at the admission. How was it that ten minutes after getting to the restaurant, she could say with some certainty that, barring any kind of unlikely happening, a crime or the apocalypse for instance, this was the best date she had ever been on?

The restaurant was great, but it wasn’t that phenomenal.

It had to be the person.

Letting the shoe drop from her healthy foot and that foot float across the distance between them, Lindsay smiled at Cindy’s startled jump as it landed.