DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SPOILERS: Episodes 1x12 and beyond.
Sometimes, Both are True
By Kerisempai
"I am a grown woman, and can take care of myself just fine," Cindy Thomas said in a calm rational voice. The only responses she received were a raised eyebrow, an outright scoffing laugh, a roll of the eyes, and an enthusiastic tail wag.
Well at least she had Martha's support. "The doctor said I'm fine to return to work," she tried logic this time. "I'll just go down to the Register to pick up a few things, and work from home."
"Do you honestly expect us to believe that?" Lindsay's hands rested on her hips; she was one step away from reaching for her handcuffs. "You are staying out of trouble for one damn time in your life." The tall woman took a step forward into Cindy's personal space. "Christ, Cindy you were shot!"
"Three weeks ago!" Cindy returned, refusing to let Lindsay intimidate her. "I don't need a babysitter!"
"No, you need a keeper!"
"All right ladies, everyone take a step back and calm down," Claire stated. When Lindsay continued to glare at Cindy's smaller form, Claire whacked her on the arm to enforce her directive.
"If I see you at another crime scene, we're done. No more slipping under the tape, no unnamed sources, no quotes, nothing! Try writing the crime desk with no access to crime." Lindsay's teeth were clenched so hard, that the words came out in almost a whisper.
"For how long?" Cindy tried not to let her exasperation show, but her voice wobbled with both fear and anger.
"For as long as I say so!" And with that, Lindsay Boxer grabbed her jacket off the back of the couch and slammed the door behind her. Ironically, it was her apartment, but she either didn't realize that or simply didn't care at that particular moment.
"She's being completely irrational," Cindy almost whined. "I'm not planning to go chasing bad guys all over the city…"
"You rarely do, yet that's what usually happens." Jill said under her breath.
"...I just want to get back to work."
"I know honey," Claire put an arm around Cindy's shoulders. "But, you've got to stay away from Lindsay's crime scenes for a little while. You haven't officially gone back to work yet, have you?" Cindy's sheepish look was enough for Claire. "Give it another week, ok?"
Cindy raised her chin in pure stubbornness. She met Jill's eyes across the room, hoping to find an ally. The intense look she got back surprised her. The ADA looked angrier than Lindsay had a moment ago.
"Just do it, Cindy." Despite the look on her face, Jill's voice was smooth and dismissive as if she really didn't care, and the conversation in general was boring her.
"Fine." Cindy picked up her bag, gave Martha an ear scratch goodbye and let herself out of Lindsay's apartment.
Once the door clicked shut behind the petite reporter, Jill finally moved from her position by the windows. She shook her head as if to comment on the stubbornness of the woman who'd just left, but couldn't hide the trembling of her hands as she ran them through her short locks. She reached Claire and leaned into the smaller woman, resting her head on a willing shoulder. "What are we going to do with her?"
Claire rolled her eyes. "You know Jill, we all love that girl to pieces." She felt the blonde stiffen, but pressed on. "I love her like she was my own child, and it makes me mother her to the point where she stops listening to my advice." Claire turned and took Jill by the shoulders, meeting the lawyer's eyes. "Lindsay, she treats Cindy like she's always tagging along and in the way, like a bratty kid sister, but she'd kill somebody for looking at her funny. And she's taking her shooting like a personal failure."
Jill felt the tears she'd been holding in check since entering the apartment rush to the surface under Claire's uncompromising stare. Jill along with Lindsay, Jacobi, and Claire had all been called to a homicide earlier. Jill had been hanging back until Claire had the body covered when she'd seen Cindy. The redhead had been halfway down an alley, trying to catch up with a junky and possible witness. Trying to get a quote, trying to help Lindsay, trying to contribute to "the club." Without a moment's hesitation, Jill had started after her, calling Lindsay as she walked. When the inspector had dragged Cindy first to a squad car, and later to her apartment, Jill had been content to know that Cindy was at least safe for now.
That drove Jill these days. Was Cindy safe? Jill had no idea when Cindy Thomas had begun to monopolize her thoughts. The innocuous answer was when the reporter had been shot - that this was all some manifestation of worry and guilt for the youngest member of their little group. Unfortunately, Jill didn't really abide by self-delusion, and she knew that she had started tracking Cindy across courtrooms and crime scenes long before that fateful day on the steps of the Hall.
As much as Lindsay felt the sharp bite of failure at Cindy's shooting, Jill felt mired in guilt. Not only had Jill pushed Cindy away with both hands days before the shooting, she'd maintained a cold distance in the weeks since. Her only moment of weakness had come on the first night Cindy had lay in the hospital. Jill had pledged her continued friendship, held Cindy's hand, and felt free to look at the beautiful woman until her eyes drooped.
What she'd wanted to do was pull the smaller woman into her arms, hold her and stroke her hair and never let go. That was what had sent Jill into the real tailspin. Almost losing Cindy had made the lawyer realize just how important the redhead had become in her life. Somehow between asking too many questions, annoyingly showing up everywhere, and continuing to call the four of them a club, Cindy had wormed her way past Jill's defenses and into her heart.
So, like the emotionally stilted commitment-phobe that she'd always been, Jill panicked and pulled back. And almost no one had caught on. Not Lindsay, who was too busy with work and the muffin man, and, thank all that was holy, not Cindy, who'd been so high on pain meds that she'd barely noticed anything for the first few weeks. But Jill was not as good as she'd thought. Or rather, she'd underestimated Claire's intuition and powers of observation.
If the soft brown eyes boring into her own hadn't confirmed that, Claire's next words did.
"And you, you love her too. Don't you Jill?"
Jill shook her head. Needing to deny Claire's question but unable to say the words out loud. Tears began making their way down pale cheeks.
"You love her so much it's ripping you up inside," Claire's voice was as gentle as the hand that reached up to wipe away Jill's tears.
"I can't love her." Jill began to sob in earnest. Claire folded the taller woman into her arms, making soothing sounds. "I can't. She won't want me, and I can't, I can't..."
Claire waited until the blonde had exhausted herself, before pulling back slightly. "You already do Sweet Pea. I hate to break it to you. And as for her not wanting you, I think you might be confusing hero-worship with attraction."
Jill just stared at Claire, blinking red-rimed eyes.
"She's going to notice you're pushing her away soon, and when she does she's going to want to know why. Do you honestly think she's just going to let it go?" Claire pushed blonde hair out of Jill's face. "After that look you gave her earlier, I'd be surprised if she wasn't already putting it together."
Jill looked horrified. "No. She has no idea. She couldn't."
Claire raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "You seem to be pretty found of that word tonight counselor." She pulled Jill across the room and held out her coat and briefcase. "I suggest you go home, have a nice long bath, pour yourself a glass of wine, and think about what might be worse: Cindy figuring out how you feel about her, or Cindy not being around to figure out how you feel about her. So, to answer your question with a question, what are you going to do about her?"
Jill Bernhardt was good at sex. Everything about her, from her walk, to her bedroom eyes, to the way she held her pen shouted proficiency and talent in areas of carnal knowledge. She was practically an urban legend in certain circles, where gossip over salads and coffees swore that she had fucked a friend of a friend until they couldn't walk, lost consciousness, or misplaced the ability to form words. The Hanson Desk episode, as it was so often referred to, merely added fuel to an already blazing firestorm.
Cindy had heard the rumors about the ADA long before she'd actually met the woman. She hadn't lent them much credence. Not that Jill wasn't sexy. If Cindy hadn't found her so attractive the redhead's life would have been decidedly easier; but nesting with Luke had seemed to belie Jill's ho-like reputation. Cindy hadn't been invited into the inner circle yet, and missed the discussion of the get-away box and all it implied. She had witnessed the panic induced downward spiral that had eventually culminated in Luke's exit. By that point the reporter had been entirely sucked in, fascinated by the blonde beauty and her self-sabotage.
Jill was Cindy's very own version of electroshock therapy.
Cindy Thomas had never questioned that she found both men and women attractive, but over the years she had learned a hard lesson – men were infinitely easier. Not so much because of the universal acceptance of a hetero relationship, she did live in San Francisco after all. No, men were easier because when Cindy was in a relationship with a man she felt confident and in control emotionally. Women, on the other hand had a history of breaking Cindy's heart.
And Assistant District Attorney Jill Bernhardt was probably the biggest heartbreaker Cindy had ever seen. She could never hang with Jill. Never be able to enjoy "friends with benefits" status. Cindy was half in love with the blonde already, actually touching Jill, kissing her, God forbid making love to her, would send her so head over heels that she'd never recover. Jill didn't do relationships, especially not after Luke. And Cindy couldn't settle for anything less.
She wasn't a prude. Cindy could have one-night stands with guys without batting an eye. Easy, convenient, satisfying. Making love to a woman, was just that for Cindy; an emotional connection that she just couldn't keep at a distance. It sucked.
So Cindy had sworn off women for the time being. She wasn't looking for anything long-term or for another broken heart. Her career was finally headed somewhere, and she was doing important work. But, every time she studied Jill covertly from beneath her lashes and felt the thrill of desire, she reminded herself of how Jill had been cutting a new swath through the population of San Francisco since Luke. According to Claire, Jill hardly ever stayed in or came home.
When Cindy thought of how easy it would be to lean into the blonde as they shared a booth at Papa Joe's, to brush her thigh against Jill's, the thought of how much the other woman detested the idea of commitment reined in her libido. Cindy was certain that eventually she wouldn't find Jill attractive anymore. She hoped and prayed for it anyway.
Not that Jill would want Cindy. She contemplated throwing herself at the other woman sometimes, positive that the horrified look on Jill's face would be enough to bring her to her senses and snap her out of this futile attraction. She simply wasn't brave enough. And there was the very slight possibility that Jill might just go with it that Jill could see her as a quick emotionless fuck, and such a situation might be too much to for her heart to endure.
The soft vibration of Cindy's cell phone drew her out of her contemplation. This is what too much time alone brought her; dwelling on the exact thing she couldn't have. At least when she was working, suppressed longings faded into the background of her mind. Cindy silently cursed Lindsay Boxer for the hundredth time.
Ironically, the text was from the inspector. Cindy smirked as she read the message, understanding that it was as close to an olive branch as she was likely to get. It had been two days since Lindsay had stormed out of her own apartment after banning Cindy for the effective future. Lindsay had held out longer than usual. "So Lindsay wants a little weekend delight with the muffin man and needs a puppy sitter. I'm amazed she trusts me to drive over without going all Batgirl on someone."
The redhead texted her agreement to spend two days at Lindsay's with Martha, and started to gather her stuff together. An hour later she and Martha were nodding at the brunette as she gave them an endless list of instructions.
"… and if you take her for a walk after dark don't go past the Starbucks on the corner. Actually, you shouldn't really need to go out past eight. Make sure you lock both deadbolts…"
"Lindsay seriously, if you give me any more directives I'm going back home."
Lindsay huffed, but finally grabbed her bag from the kitchen table. "All right. Stay out of trouble." The tall woman stopped on her way to the door bent and kissed the top of Martha's head; on impulse she repeated the move on the reporter.
Cindy snorted. "At least I know where I rank in this pecking order."
Lindsay smiled and closed the door behind her. The sound of the bolts turning from the outside as Lindsay locked her in made Cindy yell at the closed door, "Give it a rest already!"
A few hours later Cindy had exhausted the few cable channels Lindsay subscribed to. She tossed the remote onto the coffee table and looked at her four-legged charge. "You want to go for a walk Martha?"
The force of the Border Collie's exit from the couch sent Cindy back into the cushions. "I'll take that as a yes." They headed through Lindsay's neighborhood, ending up at a park about a mile away. Cindy hated to admit it, even to Martha, but she was dragging a bit. Apparently being a couch potato for the past few weeks had wiped out all the working out she'd done before being shot.
By the time they retuned to the apartment, well before twilight as directed, all Cindy wanted was a shower and more time on the couch, but she generously fed Martha dinner first.
If there was one thing that swayed Cindy into dog sitting for Lindsay, other than the simple fact that she adored Martha, it was Lindsay's shower. It was obscenely large, had amazing water pressure, and never seemed to run out of hot water. It was the kind of shower used in a porn movie.
Was it any wonder that as soon as the water started streaming over Cindy's naked body she developed a case of wondering hands? The redhead dipped her head back under the spray and moaned as she pinched her own nipples. Lindsay would be horrified, Cindy thought to herself, but the idea just made the whole scenario a bit sweeter. A little like having sex in the bedroom next door to your parents.
Cindy closed her eyes and pictured slim hands cupping her breasts, stroking along her thighs, of blue eyes locking with hers from beneath short blonde hair. She imagined Jill pinning her hands above her head against the cool ceramic tile and the taller woman fitting her naked soapy body against her own.
When Cindy's orgasm hit she didn't even bother to hold in the scream. Martha might look at her funny later, but living with Lindsay she'd probably be used to it by now. She had enough energy left to shut off the water and grab a towel. She slipped on her favorite pajamas, a worn and soft men's button down shirt that was just an inch away from being scandalously short. It didn't help that there were only three remaining buttons to do up, leaving very little of Cindy's cleavage to the imagination. It wasn't something that was meant to be sexy, it just was, and Cindy had no idea.
The sight of Jill Bernhardt sitting back on Lindsay's couch with Martha half in her lap caught the reporter completely by surprise. For once in her life Cindy was speechless with shock, so much in fact that she didn't even register the way Jill's eyes devoured her. She was too busy trying to remember whether she'd actually screamed out the ADA's name as she came.
Jill was certain that whatever higher power ruled the universe was having a good laugh at her expense.
She'd spent the last few days replaying her conversation with Claire, thinking about Cindy, and wondering what to do about it. Two sleepless nights later nothing seemed any clearer. Jill knew that her secret was safe with Claire, and yet now that the words had been spoken aloud she found it impossible to shove her feelings back into their nice dark box.
Jill loved Cindy, but Jill couldn't allow herself to love Cindy. A paradox, but both were true, and it was driving the attorney crazy. Jill had always been able to pick and choose her loved ones. Foster parents came and went, friends (all except Lindsay who she couldn't shake with a box of dynamite and lit match), lovers, everyone had a shelf life, and even loosing Luke had left Jill with a renewed faith in her ability to protect her heart. As much as Jill told herself that she was in control, she knew that when it came to a certain red-haired reporter she was utterly lost.
Jill had been so desperate that she'd gone to Lindsay's apartment. Even if she didn't tell Lindsay anything, she could at least drink herself silly and pass out. She might finally get some sleep. She'd even stopped and picked up a pizza.
Martha was lying on the couch and the shower was running when she'd let herself in. Jill had dropped the pizza box on the kitchen counter and plopped down next to the Border Collie. A good ear scratching had ensued, preventing Jill from turning on the TV. If only she'd flipped on the damn idiot box, she probably wouldn't have heard the distinctly not Lindsay sounding moans coming from the bathroom.
The ADA knew two things almost simultaneously; someone was having a good time, and Lindsay was not in the bathroom. Jill had been friends with Lindsay Boxer for most of her adult life, and over the course of many late night conversations they'd discussed life, love, and sex. Lindsay might have looked like a butch in shinning leather, but unfortunately for the women of San Francisco she was straight and didn't really have aspirations to change that.
Another moan reached Jill's ears, and with eerie clarity she knew. The list of people who had access to the apartment was limited, and Jill had just left one of the two other people who had a key, sitting in the kitchen helping Nate with his homework. Sure enough, when Jill actually paid attention to her surroundings she spotted Cindy's ever present moleskin notebook on the table. Could the redhead really be having sex with someone in Lindsay's shower?
Jealousy like she'd never experienced flooded through Jill. Here she'd been agonizing over how to share her feelings with Cindy and all the time the damn reporter had been screwing someone else. Jill got off the couch and reached for her bag. She should leave before she either barged into the bathroom and smacked whatever stupid boy Cindy thought was good enough for her, or dissolved into tears.
Her hand was on the doorknob when she remembered the pizza. She ran back over and picked up the box. Back at the door, she realized her keys were still on the counter. She dropped her bag, trying to pick up the keys. She was such a mess, and it was all Cindy's fault.
Was Cindy even healthy enough to be having sex? She'd looked so small and tired when Jill had seen her a few days ago. Who did this guy think he was? The woman had been shot, she couldn't possibly be up for sex yet. And in the shower of all places. Talk about insensitive and selfish.
"Oh my God… Jill!"
The blonde head turned so fast she swore she'd have a crick in her neck the next morning. The bathroom door was still closed. The water was still running. And Cindy had most definitely just screamed her name. Jill's brain couldn't keep up. There was a chance that Jill's assumptions had been wrong, that Cindy was in fact alone in the shower. There was no boy, and the ADA was fairly confident that she was the only Jill in Cindy's life. If these theories were true, then Cindy Thomas was not twenty feet away, masturbating in Lindsay's shower and apparently fantasizing about her. Things like that just didn't happen. Especially not to people like Jill. It was cheesy and angsty and way too much like something out of an episode of Three's Company.
She closed her eyes against her better judgment, imagining Cindy in the shower; head tilted back, one hand caressing her breasts the other buried between her…
The sudden silence made Jill's eyes pop open. The water wasn't running. Shit. Jill looked at the door in a panic. There was no way she could possibly make it. The creak of the bathroom door announced that her time was up. The usually composed attorney just barely managed to flop back onto the couch like she'd been there all along. Martha added to the illusion by laying her head once again on Jill's thigh.
She was unprepared for the vision that walked down the hallway. Cindy looked like some frat boy's wet dream. Her hair was damp and tousled, making the usually bright red darker and richer. Her glasses perched on the tip of her nose as if to reveal her chocolate brown eyes. Cindy was a beautiful girl, and Jill felt like a letch, but she couldn't stop herself from tracking the cleavage framed by soft blue cotton with her eyes. Sweat beaded on her forehead when she realized Cindy's nipples were hard. Looking away from the younger woman's breasts just brought the shortness of the shirt into sharp relief. How was it physically possible that such a short woman could posses such lusciously long legs? Even the redhead's toes were attractive.
Jill was going to have a heart attack. But damn, what a way to go.
The two women continued to stare at each other. Cindy was the first to form words. "Um, hi." Her hands self-consciously drifted down to the hem of her shirt, trying to cover up the expanse of visible thigh. "I thought babysitting duty was over."
"What?" Jill valiantly tried to will blood back to her brain.
"You know, me being constantly watched by you, Lindsay, or Claire for the past three weeks."
"Oh. No. I needed to talk to Lindsay." Jill wet her very dry lips and took a breath. "I thought you were in my shower… she was in the shower." She stopped and began again. "I heard you in the shower…" Shit, don't say that! "I thought that she was home and in the shower. I decided to wait. Where is Lindsay anyway?"
Cindy frowned. It wasn't like Jill to stumble over words. The woman was a professional litigator. Something was obviously wrong. Without really thinking about it, Cindy moved to the couch and sat on the other side of Martha. "Lindsay went out of town for the weekend. She asked me to watch Martha." Cindy pushed her glasses up, a nervous habit when she didn't know what to do with her hands. "Are you okay Jill?"
Jill's eyes widened when Cindy sat down. Way too close, her body screamed. "No. I mean yes. I'm fine. I just wanted to discuss something with Lindsay." Jill moved the dog's head off her thigh, knowing that she had to get off the couch and out of the suddenly very small apartment with all speed. The warm hand on her shoulder stopped her cold.
"Seriously Jill, you're obviously upset about something. Can't I help? I know I'm not Lindsay, but I'm your friend too." A pause. "Right? Still friends?" A tiny bit of worry made itself known in those three words. Enough that Jill realized that she hadn't been as slick as she though in her attempt to put distance between them.
She couldn't handle this. It was too much. Jill ran both hands through her hair. "I can't." She stood, feeling Cindy's hand drop from her arm.
"Ok. Sorry, I didn't mean to overstep myself." There was physical hurt in Cindy's tone. "She'll be back Sunday night. I'll tell her you stopped by."
If she had just turned and walked to the door she would have been fine, but Jill made the mistake of looking back down at the younger woman still seated on the couch. Jill called herself three kinds of an unfeeling bitch. "No. Cindy it's just that I have to talk to Lindsay. I can't talk to you about it because…"
Cindy waited for the end of the sentence that never came. Jill just waved her hands around. "Because?"
"Because you're, well you're…" Again no ending in sight.
Cindy was confused, and beginning to get a little angry. "Because what? I'm not Lindsay? I'm not old enough? I'm not experienced enough? You just don't trust me? What Jill?" Cindy stood up to face the other woman. "You're clearly upset about something, and instead of trying to talk to me about it you'd rather wait two days until Lindsay gets back?" She stepped into Jill's personal space. "You know, that really sucks."
Jill didn't know what to do. Cindy was completely right. She was treating her like crap, and couldn't think of a way around it. On top of that she was still so turned on she could barely see straight, and had Claire's words ringing in her head. "I can't talk to you about you! I need Lindsay to help me figure out what to do!"
Cindy opened her mouth to argue back. She frowned, and then looked up at the blonde. "You can't talk to me about me?"
"That's not what I said." Jill's hand began to tremble.
"No, you distinctly said I can't talk to you about you."
Jill backed away from the shorter woman. "I misspoke. I meant that I can't talk to you about it. It's about a case."
Cindy's mind was processing things that didn't make sense. "Then you said you need Lindsay to help you figure out what to do. What to do about what?"
"It's just that murder the other night. I need Lindsay to help me figure out whether or not I should put two junkies on the stand." Oh my God, that sounded weak even to Jill's ears.
"You're lying." Cindy followed Jill as she backed toward the door. "You can't talk to me about me, and you don't know what to do." Cindy didn't even seem to be aware that she was speaking out loud. "You've been putting up a wall with me since the fight we had. No. Not since the fight, since I left the hospital." Brown eyes blinked several times, then widened and focused on Jill who was a foot away from the door. "You like me. And when I got shot it scared you."
It wasn't a question, but the incredulous tone in Cindy's voice when she made that announcement didn't seem to support the theory either.
Jill felt the door against her back. She shook her head. "I don't." Claire had been right, Cindy put it together. Jill rested her head against the wooden portal that she'd almost managed to escape out of and released a sigh.
"You do. It's the only explanation." Cindy still didn't sound like she believed it, but she was arguing her point anyway. The other woman looked like she was in agony. Cindy saw tears well in Jill's eyes and moved closer. She was so confused. Jill liked her and Jill was crying. She must be in some sort of Twilight Zone.
"I don't like you Cindy," Jill said as a few tears slipped free. "I love you."
Jill watched as brown eyes got disturbingly wide. "That's not funny."
"No, it's not. Ironic? Yes. Painful? Sure thing. But not funny." There was a hint of something in Jill's voice that made Cindy really look at her. The blonde was scared. Terrified.
"You love me? As in the in love with me want to kiss me all over and have lots of sex and grow old together kind, or the pat me on the head because I'm just such a great reporter you love me kind?"
Jill could stop the small laugh that escaped her. Leave it to Cindy to use fifty words when ten would do. "The first kind." She stepped away from the door, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. Something had just clicked. This woman was amazing and smart and hot as hell. She loved her, and what was so damn scary about that? Especially when Jill reminded herself that she'd been the main feature of Cindy's fantasies but a few moments ago. "So which kind is it for you? Because after the way you called out my name a few minutes ago, I'm betting it's the f…"
The rest of Jill's sentence was cut off by a pair of very soft lips.
Cindy was done with rational. Jill Bernhardt had somehow just confessed that she was in love with her. The reporter wasn't going to take the time or the brain cells to analyze that. She was tired of fighting her attraction, tired of wondering what Jill's skin felt like, what her lips would taste like. There were only inches separating them, and suddenly it just seemed too far away.
The kiss started gentle but didn't stay that way. Neither woman had the patience right now for slow and languorous. Cindy reached up and laced her fingers through Jill's hair, pulling her head down and her body closer.
It took the attorney a moment to absorb the fact that Cindy was kissing her. Kissing the hell out of her actually. She had a moment of pure joy, before all thought went stampeding south once again.
Jill's arms went around the smaller redhead, wrapping around her waist and pulling her even closer. She gasped as Cindy's breasts pressed into her own. Her hands smoothed down the soft cotton covering the petite reporter, and it was only then that Jill realized that Cindy was wearing nothing under the oversized shirt. Nada. Zip.
Her fingers trailed over skin so soft that the phrase baby's behind finally had a point of reference for the blonde. Jill squeezed each globe and was rewarded with a sharp gasp. The taller woman reversed their positions in a heartbeat, unconsciously mirroring Cindy's fantasy by pinning her up against the apartment door. With her arms above her head Cindy's shirt rose to the level of blatant scandal, revealing that she was indeed a natural redhead.
Jill's lips traveled away from tempting lips to follow the curve of Cindy's neck. Goosebumps rose marking the path she'd taken. When her hands slowly slid down Cindy's arms to cup and caress the reporter's breasts both women groaned.
It was Jill pinching Cindy's nipple that finally pushed them into finding a more suitable location. The redhead pushed Jill back far enough to walk past her, grabbing the other woman's hand and dragging her to Lindsay's bedroom. Jill's jacket and skirt were on the floor before the attorney had a chance to even attempt undressing herself. In thirty seconds she was down to her bra and panties, and Cindy showed no signs of stopping there.
Cindy brought their lips back together, working the few buttons holding her shirt together free before wrapping her arms around the blonde's back and unhooking her bra. The bit of black lace was tossed aside, and their naked breasts met for the first time.
Jill literally felt her heart stop beating for a moment. "God Cindy. Oh my God." She couldn't form any other words. The edge of the bed came up to meet the back of Jill's legs and then she was lying flat. Cindy's fingers skimmed over the front of Jill's panties, then her thumbs were easing them down pale legs.
Cindy couldn't believe that Jill Bernhardt was lying naked before her, hers for the taking. On Lindsay Boxer's bed. Life was indeed sweet. She let her shirt slide from her shoulders and relished the perceptible darkening of Jill's eyes.
She slipped one leg between Jill's as she knelt on the bed. She wanted to tease for just a moment, hover above the blonde before bringing their bodies back in contact. Jill was having no part of that. The taller woman reached up and pulled Cindy against her hard. Jill was so wet that Cindy's thigh was immediately covered.
As turned on as Jill was, as much as she wanted to come, she needed to touch Cindy first. Her hands caressed Cindy's ass, drawing another groan from the woman, before positioning her legs so that Cindy straddled her. When Cindy instantaneously began grinding against her, Jill thought she might come right there. She found the where with all to pull her body into a sitting position.
Their lips broke apart as Cindy pulled back enough to give Jill a questioning look. Jill took advantage of the reporter's momentary lapse to scoot closer to the edge of the bed. This put Jill on the edge of the bed, sitting up with Cindy facing her, straddling her lap. Jill's hands drifted down Cindy's ass until she reached the dripping wet curls beneath. She waited until the other woman met her eyes before slowly and firmly sliding one finger into Cindy.
Cindy's hands clenched on Jill's shoulders as the blonde set a steady rhythm. One finger became two, and Cindy knew that she was going to come at any second. "Oh my God… Jill!"
This time when Cindy came screaming Jill's name, the blonde was there to capture Cindy's lips a second later. She was there when they collapsed back on the mattress, her arms refusing to let go of the shuddering reporter.
If Lindsay had been surprised by how clean her apartment had been when she returned, she didn't say anything. The new sheets on her bed did earn a phone call to Cindy, who didn't answer. When Lindsay mentioned it to Claire, the medical examiner burst out laughing. Jill was finally the one who cleared things up for the inspector, kind of.
"It's a house warming present."
"I've lived in that apartment for ten years."
Jill nodded, smiled, and walked away. Later that night, snuggled in Cindy's arms, on Lindsay's former sheets, in their now shared apartment Cindy agreed that Lindsay's home had certainly been warmed up while she was gone.
The End