Extreme Sensitivity… as an issue of legality. – A Women’s Murder Club Series, part 29

TITLE: Extreme Sensitivity… as an issue of legality. (29/?)
PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never were. Never will be. No profit. Just love.

(Lindsay’s POV)

“Did you have any fun at all?”

If Cindy didn’t sound so completely convinced that she couldn’t have possibly been anything but miserable the entire time they were gone, Lindsay would have considered playing the role of severely thwarted girlfriend in the hopes of garnering some guilt-induced pampering. But the distinctly pouty tone of Cindy’s voice made her play nice.

“Are you kidding?” she responded, raising her eyes from the highly inappropriate text she’d just received from Jill to Cindy in the driver’s seat. “I loved every second. I always wondered what life was like in 1800s. Sneaking around behind the chaperone’s back? Who knew the Victorian era was so hot?”

Cindy’s thoughtful expression broke with laughter, which tapered off after only a few seconds and ended in a deep, sincere sigh.

“It really was too bad though,” she stated quietly, eyes never leaving the road as she shook her head. “That first night we were absolutely headed toward the best night of sex two people have ever had.”

“Ever?” Lindsay husked, mouth twitching into a smirk. “That’s a bold statement.”

“I was planning to live up to it,” Cindy replied with such conviction that it spanned the space between them and slapped the smirk right down Lindsay’s throat. “You know how I like to be prepared. Do you really think I haven’t given this some serious consideration? I have ideas.”

“Cindy,” Lindsay said warningly.

“What? I’m just saying,” Cindy shrugged as if she were talking about the weather. “I’ve had many months of thinking just what I should do with my hands… my mouth… my tongue… your body. I’m pretty sure my playbook is flawless. At the very least, I intend to give it my all.”

Gulping the smirk the rest of the way down, Lindsay managed a shallow breath. “Pull the car over.”

“Why?” Cindy innocently returned. “Do you need to stretch already, Legs?”

“Pull. The car. Over.”

Cindy’s satisfaction presenting itself in the wicked grin that eased over her lips, she did as directed, coming to a leisurely stop on the side of the road and shifting into park.

Left hand tangling in Cindy’s hair and right hand not-so-gently pulling Cindy’s face her way, Lindsay crushed their lips together as if it was the only opportunity she’d ever have. Which, given their track record, wasn’t all that hard to imagine.

Unable to clear the distance herself, Lindsay slid her hand down Cindy’s side, tugging on the first belt loop she found until Cindy crawled across the console and landed in her lap. Feeling brazen and not entirely in her rational mind, Lindsay lowered her seat back and they scrambled into the back in a messy fashion that was less a romantic rendezvous that should be put to poetry than a drunken adolescent encounter.

“I don’t want to do this here,” Cindy uttered hastily before diving back in and attempting to suck Lindsay’s lips from her face.

“No,” Lindsay agreed between kisses. “But we can do some of it here.”

In apparent concurrence, Cindy’s questing mouth traveled to Lindsay’s neck, closing around the pulsing vein there. At any other time, Lindsay’s resultant moan might have been embarrassingly disproportionate, but, all things considered, she was simply surprised she was able to hold back the Morse code of whimpers and gibberish running through her mind as Cindy moved lower, tongue dancing over the exposed skin of her chest.

Cindy’s hands trailed down her torso and found the bottom of Lindsay’s shirt, ninja phalanges sneaking inside without warning. Warmth spreading outward in all directions from the points of contact, Lindsay felt her body temperature rising steadily to boiling.

Unrelentingly, Cindy’s lips and fingertips continued their cruel tease, and, mouth parting on a forceful pant, Lindsay mumbled contradictory prayers to make it stop and never let it end.

Cindy’s fingers skimmed her overheated skin, moving upward, tracing the lines of Lindsay’s ribcage, then higher. Head back against the seat, Lindsay arched forward pleadingly. Whether the words “touch me” were actually said aloud or just part of the barrage of racing, related thoughts, she wasn’t quite sure and didn’t quite care.

Then, suddenly, Cindy was sliding back up and Cindy’s lips were on hers again, hot and demanding, and they were moving forward toward something that might actually be within their reach this time.

Lindsay cursed herself for having such an optimistic and jinxing thought when a sharp tapping sound, far too close by, immediately intruded. Cindy startled backward, the crown of her head thumping into the ceiling.

Lindsay grimaced in sympathy. “Are you okay?”

Hand going to her head in an absent-minded rub, Cindy looked toward the window as if what she found there would determine her answer. Watching her ultra-white girlfriend turn practically translucent, Lindsay glanced to the window too, not all that surprised to meet a uniform of familiar blue. The cop tapped again, and, wearing an expression of half-shock, half-mortification, Cindy leaned over and lowered the window.

“How’s it going?” the officer asked, leaning down to peer in at them.

Lindsay pulled her gaping shirt together, but since “amazing” seemed the wrong answer didn’t respond.

“You do know you’re making out on the side of the road in the middle of the day, right?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” Cindy answered. “We wouldn’t normally, but we were supposed to be alone and The Register sent Ryan and there were no rooms left and we have been waiting sooooo long…”

Realizing too late that if Cindy started talking she wouldn’t be able to stop, Lindsay was ever so grateful when the flow of words slowed.

“Why? It’s not illegal, is it?”

Cindy looked to her for assurance and Lindsay shook her head in response.

“Are you a lawyer or something?” the officer asked, leaning on the car door.

“I’m a cop,” Lindsay returned.

Staring in at them, the officer took in the whole scene. “Let me guess. San Francisco?”

“Yeah,” Lindsay muttered.

The officer nodded as if the admittance explained everything and turned his attention back to Cindy.

“It’s not illegal. But it’s not exactly safe to just pull over on the side of the road and have a quickie in the backseat. Especially with the car still running.”

“That’s good advice. Thanks,” Cindy replied. If she didn’t know her so well, Lindsay might have actually believed it was sincere.

“You’re going to go,” the officer said.

“Um, you know…” Cindy started.

“That wasn’t a question,” the officer cut her off and Cindy fell into an instantaneous sulk.

“We’re going,” Cindy assured him and carefully crawled back into the front seat.

Lindsay waved at the officer as he backed away from the window.

“Drive safe now,” he said and headed back to his patrol car, where he would certainly sit and wait to make sure they followed his directives.

“Comin’ back up, Linds?” Cindy angled the rearview mirror to ask.

“No, I’ll just stay back here,” Lindsay sighed. “I think it’s safer.”

With a sigh of her own, Cindy readjusted the mirror and pulled back onto the road. As quietly as she could, Lindsay picked up her bag from where it had been pushed off of the seat onto the floor and located the bottle of pain killers inside. Dry-swallowing them, she raised her throbbing leg up onto the seat, wondering what kind of demon-curse Ryan had sent her way.