DISCLAIMER: Charlie's Angels and its characters are the property of Spelling-Goldberg Productions. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Just Another Stake-Out
By Ann
I pour another cup of coffee to try to ward off the chill of the car. Damn Bosley and his bright ideas. I wonder if he paid any attention to the weather report when he assigned Kelly and me to this stake-out. Glancing to the passenger seat, I watch my new lover wrapped up in a blanket sound asleep. If I have to spend the entire night in this freezing weather as least I have Kelly with me. Of course, I wouldn't mind crawling into the back seat with her and heating me up in a more pleasurable way.
Sighing, I change my focus back to the upper level apartment. There hasn't been any movement since ten o'clock, and I seriously doubt the suspect is crazy enough to venture out in these conditions. I begin to question my own sanity as I blow out another puff of 'breath steam.'
Kelly begins to fidget a bit so I turn my attention back to her. The blanket slides off her onto the floor, and I am tempted to let it lie there so that I can admire her gorgeous figure. Even covered in flannel, she is the sexiest woman I've ever seen. Feeling guilty, I reach down and place the cover back on her shoulders. There's no way I'm going to let her catch cold just so I can indulge in a little fantasy.
A knock on my window causes me to jump spilling coffee on my right leg. Shit, that stuff is hot. I vacillate between trying to pull the sweat suit material away from my leg and pummeling the idiot who caused me to spill the damn coffee in the first place. The idiot wins as I look over to find Bosley peering in. I roll my eyes and quickly turn the car on so the automatic windows will function.
As the window slides down, Bosley sticks his head in and says "Hey, I thought you two might be a bit hungry so I brought you some more coffee and some food." Great, I don't suppose he by chance brought another pair of warm up pants.
I grab the items from his hand, thank him, and push the button to raise the window. Bosley opens his mouth to respond but instead wisely decides to move his head out of the way to avoid decapitation. I watch as he walks off in a huff to his car. The minute he drives away, Kelly says "That wasn't very nice. What did he ever do to you?"
Moving the coffee to the console, I open the bag and pull out the food as I answer "You mean coming up with the brilliant idea of a stake-out in sub-zero temperature or scaring the crap out of me and making me scald my leg with hot coffee or bringing us hotdogs to eat? I hate hotdogs!"
Kelly seems to have only heard one of my three very good reasons for trying to kill Bosley with the car window. She immediately turns her attention to my leg and says "Bree, take those pants off and let me see your leg. Coffee can cause second degree burns."
I raise an eyebrow at my lover and smugly smile. She slaps my arms and says "Get your mind out of the gutter. I just want to see how badly you're hurt. Now, c'mon and take those damn pants off." Chastised, I hand her the hotdogs and begin to remove my pants.
The very bright red area on my upper thigh seems to glow under the dim streetlights. Kelly reaches over and gently touches the skin. Goosebumps instantly appear on my arms and legs, and I can assure you it's not because of the cold.
She leans over my lap to get a closer look, and I have to close my eyes at the image portrayed. I just hope a patrolman doesn't decide to pass by because there is no doubt as to what he or she would think they were seeing. As Kelly kisses the injured area, I too begin to wonder what she has in mind.
The bubble is burst when Kelly lifts up and says "It's just a little red. There isn't any sign of blistering. The coffee probably had cooled off a bit and that saved you from further injury." Smiling, she adds "And my kiss probably made it better." Oh how I wish the injury was a tad bit higher, then I would most definitely have felt better.
Kelly unwraps a hotdog and hands it to me before taking a bite of her own. Grimacing, she spits her bite back into the wrapper and says "Yuck. These hotdogs must be at least two days old. The bread is stale, and the wieners are actually stiff."
I reach into my bun and pull out one of the wieners in question. It stands tall and proud and appears to be jumbo sized. Tilting my head, I give Kelly a salacious smile.
She shakes her head and says "Oh no, you put that thing back in your bun. We're on a stakeout, remember?"
I grudgingly place the wiener back in the bun and turn my attention back to the quiet apartment. Glancing at my watch, I note we still have two more hours before we are relieved.
Then and only then can we return to our heated apartment and various wiener-like toys.
The End