DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. No infringement intended.
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The door falls shut behind Lindsay as she enters the interrogation room while Jill stays with Tom in the observation area. She watches Lindsay circling the yet oblivious suspect, a smile teasing her own lips.
She enjoys the present just as much as the memory.
It wasn't the same room, but if she laid her palms against the cool glass, it would feel just the same, as it was then, with Lindsay pressing up against her, her hand wandering to slip past the waistband of her skirt. And further. Jill takes a deep breath, willing to focus on the present moment.
The young man sits in the chair comfortably; he doesn't know yet that they already have everything they need to put him away for a long time. Lindsay sits down across from him, deliberately letting the chair scrape over the floor, before she mimicks his arrogant posture. "That's a sad story," she comments.
"I hope you told me the truth about those cameras being turned off," Jill had said. "Though, on the other hand it would be kind of--" The look on Lindsay's face in the reflection of the glass pane had been enough to crack her up. "Just kidding, okay?"
"How would I know?"
It was convenient that they shared the habit of working late, still, it was dangerous, careless.
Jill had turned around and they shared a deep, messy kiss, with the familiarity of longtime lovers, and the frantic passion of a first time. A beautiful contradiction in terms, that's what their relationship was.
Her back to the wall in more than one sense, Jill had watched as Lindsay went to her knees unhurriedly, slowly pushing up Jill's skirt to reveal thigh-high stockings. She smiled at the discovery, placing a soft kiss to the skin. "Your efficiency is what I love about you."
"Hopefully not just that."
"No, not just that," Lindsay said simply, which were the last words spoken for a while. Jill desperately fumbled for something to hold her up as the world was closing in, leaving her single-mindedly focused on the intimate caress of a warm tongue.
Back in the here and now, the suspect asks, "I can go now?"
Lindsay directs her gaze at the mirror for a moment, her expression just about as smug as it had been then.
"You've got to admit, I'm good at this." Even in memory, the words spoken in the familiar low, sexy whisper, sent a pleasant shiver down Jill's spine. "You are," she'd returned. "Because I taught you."
In the interrogation room, Lindsay turns to the man who murdered an elderly lady because she refused to give him the money he wanted. "One more thing, Mr. Kramer. Tell me why you murdered your aunt?"
She doesn't wait for an answer. "We have your DNA at the scene of a crime, and a witness who saw you coming out of the house."
He jumps up. "That old bitch Stevens is lying, her car wasn't in the drive when I-"
"When you what, Mr. Kramer?"
He walked into the trap and all of a sudden, he gets it. Jill turns to Tom to find he's been watching her speculatively. "What?"
He shrugs. "Nothing. Just thinking."
Jill smiles to herself. It had better not be the same as I was thinking.
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