DISCLAIMER: Murder in Suburbia and its characters are the property of ITV. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

More than one way to eat a peach
By Angie


Scribbs sighed. She had tidied the kitchen. A bit. She had done the ironing. Well, she'd folded some clothes and put them in the ironing basket. And she'd flicked through every bloody channel in creation and still failed to find anything she even remotely fancied watching. She was well and truly bored. She looked over at the table where Ash was engrossed in her laptop.

"You 'bout done, yet?" Scribbs asked, hope tingeing her voice.

Ash didn't even glance her way.


Scribbs sighed again. Louder this time. She folded her arms behind her head and looked up at the ceiling, her rather pronounced pout going unnoticed. After a few minutes of listening to the clicking of Ash's keys, she lifted her head again.

"So…when will you be finished, d'you reckon?"

It was Ash's turn to sigh deeply. She finally looked up and fixed Scribbs with a weary stare.

"Look, I told you I had to get this report done. It was you who insisted I come here and do it. I told you I was quite happy to go back to my place and finish it but you said no. So if you're going to be bored, please be bored quietly."

With that she turned her attention back to her monitor and read over what she'd written. Her hand came up to rub the back of her neck. In seconds Scribbs was on her feet and was around behind Ash, shoving her hand aside and taking over the massage duties. Ash rolled her neck under Scribbs' fingers, leaning forward to allow her better access, groaning softly at the firm pressure.

However, while Ash seemed perfectly happy to allow manual access, it was a different story when Scribbs replaced her hands with her lips. She elbowed Scribbs in the stomach.

"Ow! What are you doing?" Scribbs exclaimed, stumbling away.

Ash turned around, pointing an accusing finger.

"I won't tell you again. No funny business until I get this report done, understood?"

"Loud and clear, ma'am," Scribbs muttered, limping over to the couch, despite not having sustained any type of injury to her legs.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably more like five minutes, Scribbs couldn't stand it any longer. She hoisted herself off the couch and marched into the kitchen. Ash tried not to seethe at the, obviously deliberate, banging of kitchen cupboard doors.

When Scribbs re-emerged she came and sat at the table with Ash. Ash ignored her. Scribbs brought her hand up to her mouth and bit into a large, ripe peach which she had concealed up her sleeve. She closed her eyes and moaned low in her throat at the succulent flavour and texture. The rich juices spilled over her lips and ran down both cheeks, dripping off her chin. She made no attempt to wipe it up, she merely took another bite, moaning louder, juices positively flowing now.


She opened her eyes to see Ash drumming her fingers on the keyboard, never a good sign.

"Mmmhmm?" she asked, because her mouth was overly full of peach.

"What are my rules about eating fruit in an erotic manner?"

Scribbs choked. Coughing and spluttering, she impressively managed to keep the food in her mouth and swallow most of it. Ash made no attempt to help. Once she had cleared her windpipe of most of the debris, she croaked out a response.

"You don't have any."

"I do now. Very simple. Easy to remember. One word: don't!" Ash said, reaching out and snatching the offending item out of Scribbs' limp fingers. She bit into it far more daintily than Scribbs had and chewed thoughtfully. "Well, not while I'm working, anyway," she amended.

Scribbs used her sleeve to wipe most of the peach juice off her face, wondering if she'd done enough to make Ash forget about the laptop and nip upstairs for a night of energetic shagging. Ash handed the peach back to Scribbs and turned back to the computer. Apparently not, then.

Scribbs was losing hope fast. She'd been positive that Ash wasn't serious about bringing work home with her over the weekend. And even when she did, she assumed that it would be a Sunday afternoon thing, not a whole Friday night. She stood up and headed to the hatch that led to the kitchen. Sticking her head and most of her upper body through, she closed one eye and chucked the remainder of the peach in the direction of the bin. It missed by a considerable margin. Which seemed to be a sad metaphor for her whole evening. She squeezed back out of the hatch and turned around. Ash was still typing away.

"I'm going to the loo," Scribbs said.

"Thanks for keeping me informed," Ash replied, not looking up.

Scribbs rolled her eyes and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Some five minutes later Scribbs returned to the living room. She didn't bother speaking to Ash, heading straight to the sofa and lying down. She picked up a nearby magazine and started leafing through it, listlessly.

Her phone beeped, signalling the arrival of a text message.

"That's me," she informed Ash.

"Mmmhmm," Ash said, not interested in the slightest.

Scribbs sat up and read the text message.

"Oh, it's Christine from Vice. They're all down the pub, she's just asking if I want to meet them there for a drink."


Scribbs stretched and yawned widely.

"Think I might go down for a couple. You're busy here and there's nothing on the telly."


Scribbs stood up and started heading for the stairs. She stopped when Ash spoke.


Scribbs turned around, wearing her best innocent expression.


Ash's brows were lowered and she had actually shoved the laptop away slightly, which was a result in itself.

"Is this Christine as in Christmas Party Christine?"

"Is that a nickname?"

"As in, 'Oh-Emma-look-I've-found-some-mistletoe' Christine? That Christine?"

"Ummm, yeah, that does sound familiar now that you mention it…"

"The one who couldn't keep her bloody hands to herself whenever you ventured anywhere near the dancefloor?"

"I'm sure she was like that with everybody…"

"I'm sure she bloody wasn't!" Ash practically shouted.

Scribbs suppressed a smile.

"Anyway, it's only for a couple of drinks. I'm just distracting you here, it'll let you get on and get finished."

Ash glanced at the laptop and then back at Scribbs. She made up her mind immediately. She clicked the mouse a couple of times before closing the lid of the computer. Scribbs allowed herself a smile as Ash approached.

"I'll do it tomorrow, it is Friday night after all."

Scribbs raised an eyebrow as Ash pulled her into a passionate kiss. Ash drew away and headed into the kitchen. She re-emerged and held up a peach. She smiled seductively before turning in the direction of the stairs. She glanced back over her shoulder.

"You coming?"

Scribbs held up her phone.

"In a sec, I'll just give the Vice lot a buzz to tell them I'm staying in."

"Don't be too long," Ash's voice floated down from upstairs.

Scribbs grinned at the ceiling as she pressed a couple of buttons on her mobile and pressed it to her ear. It was answered after two rings.

"Hi…yeah it worked, thanks for doing that…no, it's all in a good cause I promise…yeah…yeah…OK then, see you Monday…thanks again, Boss."

She flipped the phone shut and practically bounded up the stairs where she planned to investigate exactly how many ways there were to eat a peach.

The End

Return to Murder in Suburbia Fiction

Return to Main Page