Inamorata (5/36) – WMC fic

PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Characters, not mine. Story, mine.

If it had been the middle of the night, the sound of her cell phone would have worried Lindsay. But it wasn’t the middle of the night. It wasn’t just night either. It was late night, that ephemeral time when only a handful of people felt comfortable enough, or had any right, to disturb you. So Lindsay knew who it was without looking at her caller ID, finding it rather meaningful that she had just been getting ready to pick up the phone to call Cindy.


“Hey,” Cindy’s voice came softly through the earpiece. “Are you at your interim home?”

“I am.” Lindsay ran her fingers back through her hair, latching on to the top of her pillow. “And I love that you use the word interim as if it’s common.”

“It is common.”

She could sense Cindy’s pout, and the image of the grumpy expression her mind generated brought an instant smile to Lindsay’s face.

“If you say so, Lois Lane.”

“Are you in bed?” Cindy asked her.

“Mm hm,” Lindsay breathed.

Just the sound of Cindy’s voice was making her feel relaxed.

“Were you sleeping?”

“No. I was just thinking about you,” Lindsay admitted.

“Me too,” Cindy replied, and though Lindsay felt there was a joke in there somewhere regarding Cindy thinking about herself, she let it slide for fear of unsettling the peaceful haze around her. “Is your door closed?”

“Yeah,” Lindsay responded.

“What are you wearing?”

“Are you serious?”

“I am more than serious,” Cindy was suddenly considerably livelier. “Listen, I am willing to take care of what absolutely must be taken care of at this point by myself, but I would really rather do it with you.”

Lindsay felt her breath stolen as if someone had sucked it out of her. That unexpected rant was so… fucking sexy.

“There are a lot of other people here,” she reminded Cindy.

“And there is a guard right outside my door. They’ll get over it.”

Lindsay shook her head at the ceiling. This felt so unbelievably inappropriate. The house was crawling with people she barely knew. But, then, how many options were really available to them? She only hoped the nearest person on-site wasn’t near enough to be listening in.

“I’m wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt.”

“Wow, Linds. That’s hot.”

Lindsay struggled not to laugh at the thwarted tone to Cindy’s voice.

“No chance I can get those off you with a house full of people, I’m guessing,” Cindy tried.

“That’s correct,” Lindsay answered.

Cindy sighed, but it was a testament to how well Lindsay knew her that she was well aware that wasn’t going to quash the proposition, so she wasn’t the least bit surprised when Cindy continued on, though the bluntness of her delivery was somewhat shocking.

“But you have an elastic waistband, right? Nothing to stop you from, say, slipping your hand down the front of them.”

So, it seemed her innocent young companion possessed a bit of a veiled naughty streak. Lindsay supposed she should have guessed that considering what Cindy had called her for in the first place.

“And why would I do that?” Lindsay asked, wanting to make Cindy say it.

“Because, you have either already done this today, or you remain in a state of acute arousal,” Cindy responded, then sounded slightly less assured. “Or maybe you are just a helluva lot stronger than I am.”

“I never said that,” Lindsay murmured. And it was true. She wasn’t feeling very strong at all at the moment. “What are you wearing?”


She didn’t know that a single word could have such a profound effect on her. Perhaps there were still a few things she had left to learn about herself.

“Is that the truth, or are you just saying that?”

“Does it matter?”

Not really. Her imagination was having no problem drumming up the image whether it was factual or not, Lindsay realized. She moved her hand down to Cindy’s medal around her neck, sliding it back and forth along the chain, trying to distract herself.

She didn’t want to do this here… alone… but the smooth and needy tone of Cindy’s voice was making it difficult. The longing to have Cindy lying in her bed beside her, whispering directly into her ear, instead of across the phone line, was so severe, it was painful. Not almost. It was actually physically painful.

“I wish that you were here,” she said.

“So do I.”

The breathless attribute of Cindy’s voice left very little doubt as to what she was doing. So, the least Lindsay could do was pretend. If she couldn’t be there to give Cindy what she needed, she could at least give her something.

“What would you do if you were here?” Lindsay asked.

“I can’t wait to show you.”

“Well, that has to wait, so you can’t tell me?” Lindsay encouraged.

She wanted nothing more than to hear the sweet, rich tone of Cindy’s voice, making promises to her now that she was certain to keep later. Lindsay really couldn’t wait until this was all over.

“The evidence room today… that was a good start,” Cindy husked. “I love kissing you. You have no idea how much.”

“Tell me,” Lindsay pleaded, finding her own lack of participation increasingly agonizing.

She glanced toward the door. It wasn’t locked, but no one should barge in unless she started screaming. Her hand abandoned the necklace and moved down her body. It felt more automatic than deliberate. It was just Cindy’s voice, and the image of her in her bed, there was no resisting it. Not that she was putting forth much of a resolute effort.

“So much, Linds,” Cindy continued. “I’ve wanted to for so long and I didn’t know if I would ever get to. I love the feel of you, the taste of you, everything about you. I want you so much.”

Lindsay exhaled loudly as her hand reached its destination. How in the hell was Cindy doing this to her without even being there?

“Change your mind?” Cindy asked.

“You’re not giving me much choice,” Lindsay confessed, letting her eyes close.

She listened intently to Cindy’s labored breathing and light laugh that seemed to abruptly end part way through. She could easily summon the vision of Cindy in the evidence room earlier when the lights had come on and she looked all tousled and gorgeous. This was a special kind of torment.

“Linds?” Cindy whispered roughly.


“I need you to talk now.”

The stark need in the request, combined with the perceptible catch in Cindy’s voice, was almost too flawless. And it was completely impossible to deny. Lindsay didn’t know if she could say anything poetic enough, it wasn’t exactly her forte, but she had to say something, and she had the benefit of the truth.

“You know, I have trusted you from the very beginning. Even though I needed the help, if you think I would have given just anyone those notebooks you’re crazy. And I’ve been a little more grateful each day since, because I don’t know what I would do without you now.”

Lindsay was barely aware of what she was saying, or of how her voice was becoming increasingly softer and more and more Texan with every syllable she relaxed into. What she was powerfully aware of, however, were Cindy’s whimpering exhalations, growing more and more persistent.

“I don’t just want you, darlin’,” Lindsay drawled. “I need you.”

And then she was silent again, focused on the succession of hitches and gasps in her ear that led her like a disciple to the same place where Cindy was, where there was some level of appeasement from their earlier meeting that day. Her only two concerns in the world were keeping herself quiet, which she accomplished by biting her lip, and holding onto the phone. After, as she lay catching her breath, she realized Cindy was right. It was better, though not nearly as satisfying as the real thing would have been.

Two sudden, piercing, beeps intruded on the lull that followed, making Lindsay jump.

“What was that?” Cindy asked.

Barely finding the energy to lift it and check, Lindsay glowered at her phone and returned it to her ear.

“My battery is about to die,” she told Cindy.

“That’s no good,” Cindy replied softly.

“Maybe we’ll both fall asleep before it does.”

“Maybe,” Cindy whispered back.

Lindsay laid the phone beside her on the pillow, turning to rest her head next to it.

“Thomas?” she murmured.


“You’re gonna call me again tomorrow night, right?”

Cindy’s throaty laugh almost felt like part of her dreams.

“Absolutely,” Cindy promised.

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  1. 🙂 umm wow.. ok so I.. it’s been awhile since.. I’ve been single for awhile and.. crap never mind. Your an amazing awe-inspiring wordsmith and you know what I’ll just say it, the way that you write about Lindsay and Cindy in either of your story’s(and also that other ones you wrote) it it’s genius and it moves me.. so much that it kinda makes me want to date again.. dare I say it gives me hope(even if it’s based on fiction).

  2. ok, don’t get freaked out, but i had to read this one to my husband. i never thought you would dip to phone sex, but it works!

  3. Hrm. A part-timer, huh?

    I’m not freaked out. I am slightly confused.

    Anyway, this post may win the award for the most interesting comments thus far.

    Does anyone have anything else surprising to say?

  4. ha! i just love fan fiction. it’s the stories. that’s why i like yours so much. you put some effort into it. there’s not just silly stories, they’re good stories. unfortunately, i read straight fic too. i know, i know. i stink at life!

  5. This chapter is so sweet and lovingggggg! i loved it. i LOVE this whole story!
    And phone sex will have to do for the two of them right now, since they really can’t be with each other. better than nothing…

  6. uh, with better than nothing i meant that from Lindsay and Cindy’s point of view, of course, not from mine. i love your stories even if no phone sex is in them!

  7. Ok…so in the last 24 hours I have read All of House Arresst, and now this story. I can now say that I am as hooked on your rendering of the Lindsay/Cindy ship as I am on Women’s Murder Club in general.

    Wow…wow Love it!

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