Extreme Sensitivity… as an obstruction to all things good and happy-making. – A Women’s Murder Club Series, part 31

TITLE: Extreme Sensitivity… as an obstruction to all things good and happy-making. (31/?)
PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never were. Never will be. No profit. Just love.

(Lindsay’s POV)

Even with Claire occupying the space between them, every time Lindsay looked toward the end of the couch where Cindy was hovering, overseeing Claire’s work, a warm jolt rocked her entire body.

The small flare-up in her ankle didn’t stand a chance against the raging inferno that was her libido at the moment. And if the look in Cindy’s eyes every time their gazes met was any indication, Cindy was still aflame as well.

If not for the unfortunate circumstances they found themselves in once again, it could have made for one highly explosive evening.

Lindsay closed her eyes and wished for the hundredth time that the entire interruption was just a product of her sex-starved brain. When she opened them, Claire was still sitting at her feet and Cindy still wasn’t on top of her. Sighing at the realization, her lip jutted out in a pout.

“Don’t look at me like that. They told you to take it easy,” Claire chided, shaking her head at the swollen and bruised appendage in her lap. “How did you do this?”

Smirking proudly in memory of the roadside makeout session that did the damage, Lindsay glanced up at Cindy. Cindy’s chest rose and fell as just the corner of her mouth turned up, and she stared back with so much heat that Lindsay wondered how Claire would feel about being a participant in an impromptu ménage through no fault or desire of her own.

After ten seconds with no response from anyone, Claire raised her head, took one look at Lindsay’s face and rolled her eyes.

“Never mind,” she said, glancing back and forth between them. “You,” she motioned to Cindy, “remove yourself from Lindsay’s line of vision. I don’t want her jumping over me to get to you.”

With a smile of concession, Cindy did as she was told, walking along the back of the couch to the opposite end and leaning against the arm near Lindsay’s shoulders. Her hand slid down the back of Lindsay’s head, fingers combing through her hair, and Lindsay sighed her approval.

Claire glanced up at them again, her motherly scowl turning into a soft, indulgent smile.

“Well,” she uttered, “I hope whatever you did was worth it, because you are right back at square one. Good luck explaining this to Tom when he’s ready to put you back on duty.”

Cringing, Lindsay blew out a breath. Claire did, unfortunately, have a point. Reinjuring herself while she was supposed to be recuperating wasn’t going to look good in her personnel file. Especially if they wanted to know how she’d done it. Instantly, her mind began to concoct a heroic story about a little old lady and a purse snatcher with a hockey stick, but Cindy’s unceasing caress chased the fabrication from her mind.

“What if I take Cindy in with me and just explain that resistance is futile? Think he’ll understand?”

Claire glanced up at the temptation in question, perched at Lindsay’s shoulder.

“That would probably do it,” she agreed, gently lifting Lindsay’s foot from the pillow on her lap and resituating it on the couch as she got to her feet. “But I’m serious. No acrobatics. Personal, professional or otherwise. You are never going to heal if you keep aggravating it.”

“What if I call it names? Will that aggravate it?”

Cindy chuckled behind her, a small sound that made Lindsay want to grab her, pull her over her shoulder and hold her prisoner for all eternity. But Claire gave her a look and she felt well-reprimanded.

“Fine,” she agreed.

“I mean it,” Claire emphasized.

“I figured,” Lindsay countered.

The gently stroking fingers scratched lightly at her scalp and Lindsay practically purred as her head fell back against Cindy’s hand.

“Cindy,” Claire cleared her throat to interrupt, “do you need a ride home?”

“No,” Cindy responded, and Lindsay tried to keep her gloating grin in check.

Claire stood her ground, crossing her arms and staring them down.

“I’m going, I promise,” Cindy assured her, and Lindsay knew that it was sincere.

Claire was less convinced. Switching back and forth on her feet, she seemed unsure whether or not the two of them could be trusted alone. Finally deciding that Cindy was telling the truth, or that she wasn’t willing to do whatever might have to be done to keep the two of them off one another, Claire finally grabbed her bag.

“I just want you to heal,” she stated.

“I know,” Lindsay returned, though “heal” was a relative term. Waiting for her body to be physically capable was doing major damage to all of her mental and psychological components. A little ankle pain wasn’t going to kill her. Further waiting might.

“Thanks for coming over, Claire.”

Sadly, Cindy’s gratitude seemed sincere and not just a ploy to get Claire out of the apartment.

“Any time,” Claire smiled at her. “Be good.”

And with that, she left them to their own discretion.

“How are you feeling?” Cindy asked from over her shoulder once Claire was gone.

Turning her body forty-five degrees and snaking her arm out, Lindsay snagged Cindy around the waist and pulled her right off the arm of the couch and into her lap.

“Better now.”

“Did you listen to a single word Claire said?” Cindy’s voice rose in disbelief, but she made no attempt to get up.

“Every word,” Lindsay returned. “And I respectfully disagree.”

Going in for the kiss that would convince Cindy that Claire’s visit and medical advice were both just illusions, and that they should get right back to where they left off, Lindsay moaned pitifully when Cindy’s hands on her shoulders stopped her just inches from her intended target.

“Well, I don’t,” Cindy stated plainly. “I’m not going to injure you again.”

“Cindy,” Lindsay pleaded, “please don’t be crazy. Do you remember what we just went through? Three days of hellish waiting. Let’s not do that again.”

“It’s not like I want to,” Cindy muttered. “But I’m not going to let you hurt yourself.”

Lindsay nodded at the sensible resolve. “Fair enough,” she conceded. “I’ll be on bottom.”

Though Cindy’s laugh was genuine, the hands on Lindsay’s shoulders remained firm.

“How about this?” Cindy coaxed. “Saturday night. You, me, my place.”

“Your place?” Lindsay returned.

“Yeah, that’ll be new and exciting, won’t it?” Cindy smirked. “I’ll make you dinner. And nothing will get in the way.”

Lindsay flinched. “You really shouldn’t tempt fate like that.”

“No, probably not,” Cindy agreed, leaning over to rap her knuckles on the wooden coffee table.

Wood knocked, she sat back up and lifted her hand to Lindsay’s face. Her fingertips fluttered across Lindsay’s cheekbone before she kissed her, deeply but fleetingly, and pushed up off of her lap.

“Where are your crutches?”

“Oof… those again?” Lindsay grumbled, before motioning Cindy in the general direction.

Cindy came back to the edge of the couch with them and held the crutches out to her.

“You’re not going to help me into bed?” Lindsay asked, taking the crutches from Cindy’s hand.

Cindy laughed shortly. “Uh… no.”

Instead, she leaned down and gave Lindsay one last kiss before walking quickly to the door. When she glanced back for just a moment, Lindsay was certain she was going to do the right thing and change her mind. But Cindy just set her shoulders, sighed and walked out. Again. The door closed behind her and Lindsay dropped her head back onto the arm of the couch.

As if sensing their abandonment, a sleepy Martha ambled out of the bedroom a few seconds later, yawning widely.

“Martha,” Lindsay called to her. “Go get Cindy and bring her back. Go, Girl, go!”

Bleary-eyed, Martha sniffed in her direction and went back into the bedroom. Lindsay dropped the crutches on the floor beside her, pulled the worn blanket from the back of the couch down over her and pouted herself to sleep.