Extreme Sensitivity… as neurosis. – A Women’s Murder Club Series, part 6

TITLE: Extreme Sensitivity… as neurosis. (6/?)
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.

(Cindy’s POV) 

There was no one else to blame. This was absolutely, unequivocally her own doing. All her fault. She’d brought it on herself.

So now, what should have been a fun, relaxing Friday night with her three closest friends was going to be a manageable night with two of them and an incredibly excruciating night with the other. She’d put herself into a truly awkward position, her nerves were already working crazy overtime, and she was perfectly prepared to spend the whole of the evening extremely sensitive to anything that Lindsay said or did, dissecting every word, nitpicking every action, and searching for deeper meaning, any indication that Lindsay felt even an iota of a flicker to her carnal fuse.

Of course, the possibility certainly existed that, if Lindsay was burning hot, it wasn’t in a good way. Inspector Boxer’s extreme emotional reactions tended more toward the negative than the positive.

Even if Lindsay was entirely freaked out though, or irate, Cindy couldn’t exactly regret what she’d done either. It had personally provided her hours of entertainment the night before, as the brief moment repeated like a skipping record in her mind and she found herself a little more turned on with every instant replay. As short-lived and quasi-innocent as the actual event had been, it seemed to have already reached legendary status in her consciousness. Like a Beatles song. She’d never grow tired of it.

The abnormally long time that it took for someone to come to the door, Cindy knew that she had to be first on the scene. If anyone completely able-bodied were inside, she wouldn’t still be standing, waiting to be collected, in the hallway.

It was entirely unfair! She had gone well out of her way to arrive ten minutes late, including scripting and rehearsing her excuse in front of a mirror so that, when she lied, it might actually come close to looking like the truth, all in an effort to avoid this very scenario of being alone with Lindsay.

For a moment, she really considered fleeing while she had the chance, going back to her car and waiting until she witnessed the arrival of either Jill or Claire, but, knowing that Lindsay would somehow know that she had done just that and never assume that it was merely kids playing a prank, Cindy restlessly remained where she was, feelings of excitement and anxiety alternating in the pit of her stomach.

The majority of her was more than eager to see Lindsay just like she had always been, every time, since the very beginning. There was a very tiny, terrified, part, though, that would be only be appeased by the knowledge that she’d never have to face Lindsay again.

The door swung open, and Lindsay appeared before her, propped up on her crutches, a partial obstruction to the narrow doorway.

“Hey,” Lindsay greeted in that low drawl that Cindy would pretend, yet again, didn’t instantly weaken her knees.

The tiny, terrified part instantly fell in line and the whole of Cindy was delighted to see Lindsay. She may as well own up to the fact now that Lindsay was her drug of choice and any attempts to quit would result in extreme withdrawal without actually reducing her taste for it in the least.

Mmm… tasting Lindsay. She wouldn’t be opposed to doing that again.

Subconsciously, Cindy’s tongue traced her lips and she realized that Lindsay was probably expecting some sort of reply to her greeting.

“Sorry I’m late,” Cindy immediately started rambling upon opening her mouth. “I thought I had time to stop for an oil change… and the line was kind of long and then I got blocked in by another car and all my fluids were low and they wanted to air up my tires.”

She’d tried to stop the flow of words, but the second she started talking it was too late, and now she’d said too much. Partway through the fluids portion of her excuse, it became obvious was lying, and the amusement that came to Lindsay’s face during her rapid-fire recitation of bogus events was a sure indicator that she hadn’t even planned to mention the tardiness.

Feeling utterly foolish, and knowing that she had to be reasonably red-faced, Cindy dropped her gaze to the floor with a sigh. And also because, when she was looking up, it was as if Lindsay’s lips had a big “Look at me! I’m great for kissing!” sign attached to them. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything else.

“Okay then,” Lindsay responded in a voice way too humored. “Are you going to come in… or did you need to go have your fan belt looked at?”

“Coming in,” Cindy mumbled.

Lindsay moved out of the way as much as she could, but Cindy was still forced to step over a crutch and press in far too close to Lindsay for her sanity. The familiar smell filled Cindy’s senses. She fought the urge to lean in and boldly inhale.

“So, what are Jill and Claire’s reasons for being late?” Cindy asked in an effort to deflect attention from herself once she had cleared the Lindsay-shaped obstruction to her entry.

“They didn’t need any. They’re not late,” Lindsay responded as she closed the door and followed after her into the living room.

“Are they invisible?” Cindy glanced around the apartment, definitely empty other than the furry-coated creature sleeping just inside Lindsay’s bedroom door.

“They were already here. Then they left. They got their hands on some KT Tunstall tickets for tonight,” Lindsay responded.

“Those tickets sold out in like ten minutes,” Cindy said in disbelief, and with just a touch of envy. “I couldn’t even get any through the Register. Too bad they couldn’t get them for us too, huh?”

“If you feel that strongly about it,” Lindsay offered in a somewhat quieter tone. “I’ve got two more in my jacket pocket if you would rather go meet up with them.”

“Really?” Cindy started excitedly. “That would be awes…”

As her brain caught up with Lindsay’s words, her own trailed off.

There was a rather there. She had just been given a choice between two desirable options. Either they could join Jill and Claire at the concert. Tempting. Or she could stay where she was, alone with Lindsay. Considerably more tempting.
Especially considering the fact that, if it had been Lindsay’s intention for them to go out, when she was running late Lindsay would have just called her and told her to meet them there, but she hadn’t. At the very least, she would have mentioned the tickets first thing, but she hadn’t done that either. In fact, it seemed that she’d had no intention of mentioning the tickets at all until Cindy had shown interest.

Lindsay had invited them all over, then dispatched Jill and Claire. On purpose. But for what purpose exactly?

The possibilities were few.

One – Lindsay was going to ream her, causing severe emotional and auditory pain, and didn’t want witnesses.

Two – Lindsay was going to beat on her, causing severe physical pain, and didn’t want witnesses.

Each of those things sounded particularly unpleasant.

Three – There was going to be calm discussion of the kiss, potentially ending in severe heartache or, dare she even imagine the possibility, renewed hope.

Four – There was going to be a reenactment of the scene from the hospital.

That one, she was really pulling for.

Though she wasn’t sure the odds were in her favor, the jackpot was just too damn high for Cindy not to take the gamble. She looked up to find Lindsay studying her with an unnerving diligence.

“I’m good,” she managed, despite the acute onslaught of dry mouth.

“Are you sure?” Lindsay lips turned up into a grin that Cindy knew was impairing her brain function when the only phrase she could come up with to describe it was hella-sexy.

“Yeah. I imagine those crutches could cause severe chafing if you were forced to lean on them all night. I don’t mind a quiet night in with my favorite cripple.”

That’s what she said, but her tone implied substantially more. It hummed with the distinct timbre of wanting to lay Lindsay down by the fire and tear into her like Christmas morning.

“You’re a real sport,” Lindsay teased, smile growing.

If Cindy had been more sure of her thought processors, she might have been convinced that she heard a similar quality to Lindsay’s voice, but the sudden pervasive vision of Lindsay sprawled beneath a pine tree covered in nothing but tinsel was enough to keep all blood frustratingly far from her brain.

“I do aim to please.”

She did not just say that.

“Take out?”


“I’ll grab the menus,” Lindsay responded, hobbling toward the kitchen. “Then we can talk. I’d love to get the 411 on that whole aiming to please thing.”

As Lindsay disappeared through the doorway, Cindy tried to comprehend what had just taken place. In another situation, at another time, she would have been positive that Lindsay was making fun of her, but in this situation, at this time, it sounded extraordinarily like flirting.

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  1. It never ceases to amaze me how you can write L/C in such funny, smart, lighthearted romantic-comedy-type fic and then turn around and write them in gut-wrenching emotional drama such as Inamorata. In either genre the character’s voices always ring true.

    And I’m starting to feel like a parrot with my comments. Maybe if you wrote a lousy chapter once in awhile I could give my snark muscle a work-out. But I have a feeling you couldn’t write anything bad if you tried.

    Now, about the new lay-out. At first I was surprised. I thought I might have taken a wrong turn at Alberquerque. But I’m liking it, actually. A lot. I like the way the topics are headlined. And the “tête de mort” makes me feel like a badass for frequenting your blog 🙂 Although do badasses use the verb frequent? Anyway, I’ve used up enough of your space for tonight. As always it’s been a pleasure reading

  2. Oh, and badasses probably don’t use smiley faces emoticons. So much for that. Is there such a thing as a dorkass?

  3. Jeez hou’re fucking good with the imagery. cyber-corona for you, not only for this awesome update, but for that brilliant description coming in at the end. Cindy’s tone of voice sounding like she wanted to tear into Lindsay like a christmas present… masterfully descriptive. And her thought processors not working because of the follow-up image, I gave myself a stich I grinned/giggled so hard. This chapter is very deserving of a squee, and so you get one out of me. I also liked Cindy’s excuse for being late, ha, and Lindsay seeing right through it. Again, another giggle. I’m so looking forward to the next update. And lastly, nice new background for the blog. It’s pretty fucking awesome. Just like your stories. Here’s hoping for more soon and Have a good one, yeah. 🙂

  4. Wow, I’m so with Cindy on this one –
    Four – There was going to be a reenactment of the scene from the hospital.

    That one, she was really pulling for.

    So. Am. I!!!! With a little more to it please 🙂

  5. I am so with Cindy on this –

    Four – There was going to be a reenactment of the scene from the hospital.

    That one, she was really pulling for.

    So. Am. I!! With a little more to it, please – for both mine and Cindy’s sakes.

  6. ahh i got caught in ur spam flitter thank god for mulitplie yahoo ids! 😀 i love the new fic and layout, i think its amazing how it seems like lindsey planed the night out with the tickets and all.

  7. yay! that was really adorable! i absolutely love this WIP. i am also loving the new layout. i first thought i’d somehow happened across the wrong site. then i saw extreme sensitivity and was very happy, not only with the new chapter but the gorgeous new layout you have provided! ok enough rambling for one night.

  8. hehehe!! this story is fun. you’re my favorite.

    like the new layout, though i was totally freaked out at first. the skull and cross-bones threw me for just an instant 🙂 (and i’m adding an extra smiley for nikky 🙂

  9. Love the story and the new layout. Now it almost makes sense when I listen to my Speed Metal albums while reading lovey dovey L/C RomCom.

  10. I love the new layout……. I have become quite enamoured with your writing and this layout makes my navigation quite easy to see what was recently updated. You have absolutely captured to tone of the girls…… I’ll be over here lurking whilst waiting for updates.

  11. Thanks Tara. Right backatcha:)

    BTW, Tara Lopez Art, is that you? Cause wow, that’s pretty terrific stuff! I love creative people.

  12. haha, no, not me. i had seen it on riley’s site as well, though. i am a part time photographer, however. i think all of riley’s loyal readers should get space to promo their stuff on here.

    do you have anything to promo, nikky?

  13. Riley, I know I’ve been missing for a while, sorry about that… life has been quite busy lately.

    Anyhow. This story is so much fun to read! A few of my favourite parts:

    ““Sorry I’m late,” Cindy immediately started rambling upon opening her mouth. “I thought I had time to stop for an oil change… and the line was kind of long and then I got blocked in by another car and all my fluids were low and they wanted to air up my tires.””
    eheh, this sounds like me, which is why I prefer to just shut my mouth and not give false excuses for when I’m late. But I can understand the effect Lindsay has on Cindy and her ability to keep quiet!

    ““I do aim to please.”
    She did not just say that.”
    Ah! this is going to be so much fun! I love the “she did not just say that”, I can picture Cindy in my head doing that little face of hers when she seems like she’s thinking just that… soooo cute!

    The new layout is a bomb. At first I thought something happened to your site and that it had been replaced by some weird-badass website. Then I realized it actually WAS some weird-badass website, and it was the one I was looking for. 😛

  14. Thanks everybody! Sorry I didn’t respond to these sooner. Most of them weren’t coming through. Damn spam filter!

    Nikky – you would snark me? Seriously? Harsh! Oh, and badasses may use smileys, but most definitely do NOT use frequent as a verb.

    PJ – you can find the rest of the story on the fan fiction page, link at the top left

    Speed Metal and RomCom… heh. Why not?

    Luce! I’m glad that you’re back. I was starting to worry about you.

  15. Smileys = yes. Frequent as verb = no. Got it.

    And I most definitely would never snark you. Never. ever 🙂

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