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.
The Case of the Missing Handcuffs
Jacobi watches with a wry grin as his partner rummages through her desk drawers, tossing items aside in frustration. This is the fourth time she's looked through them in the past fifteen minutes; he's been counting. A pile of papers gets thrown on her desk, followed closely by a stapler, a handful of pens, and a pink thong? That's new. She must be really frustrated if she doesn't even notice what she's displaying for all the bullpen to see. He notices Claire approaching with a folder in her hands and moves to intercept her.
"She's in a bit of a mood," Jacobi says in warning. "I hope you have good news for us."
Claire raises her eyebrows and looks over at Lindsay, who's sitting in a pile of her things, shuffling through them helplessly.
"Lose something?" Claire inquires, approaching the irate inspector.
Lindsay looks up and sighs dejectedly. "I can't find my handcuffs."
Claire smiles in sympathy. "Well, this might cheer you up," she opens the coroner's report. "The blood results match. You've found your guy."
"Really?" Lindsay stands up and takes the file from Claire, glancing through the results. "Perfect," she says, adding somewhat sarcastically, "now if only I can find my handcuffs, so we can go arrest him."
Jacobi chuckles, and dangles his own handcuffs in her face, "It's a good thing you have such a good partner." He reaches for his keys, "You stay here and look for your precious handcuffs. I've got this one covered."
Cindy pushed Jill up against the door, kissing her fervently. Her hands slid up the sides of the district attorney, tugging at the silky material. She slipped her fingers under the blouse and circled them around the slim frame, pausing as they reached the small of Jill's back. Surprised at what she found there, Cindy pulled her lips away, causing a moan of protest from Jill.
"What, exactly," Cindy panted, "are these?" She extracted the metallic intruders from where they were tucked in the back of Jill's skirt.
"Those," Jill drawled, a devilish grin gracing her features, "are handcuffs."
Cindy smirked. "I can see that. Perhaps a more pertinent question would be, where exactly did you get them?"
Jill brought a finger to her lips in a theatrical show of silence. "It's best if you don't know," she whispered, arching an eyebrow sexily. "After all, you are a pretty terrible liar. I'd hate for you to buckle under questioning later."
Cindy opened her mouth in mock offence, and Jill took the offered opportunity. She snuck her finger inside Cindy's mouth and ran it along her wet tongue, and then leaned in and replaced her finger with her own tongue. As she kissed her, she ran her moist finger down Cindy's collarbone, around the upper swell of her breast, and down a path between her cleavage until her progress was hindered by the material of the reporter's low-cut shirt.
Only slightly mollified, Cindy considered how best to retaliate. She ran her hands down the length of Jill's arms, lightly making her way along her forearms to the inside of her wrists. When she reached her destination, she grabbed the handcuffs from her lover.
"You've been naughty," she purred facetiously, managing not to laugh.
Jill batted her eyes sweetly, "If I'm good, will you speak with a Texan accent?"
At that Cindy did laugh. Shaking her head and muttering, "Incorrigible," she took Jill's hand and led her into the bedroom.
"What's going on?" Jill walks business-like into the bullpen, observing the state of chaos of Lindsay's desk.
"She can't find her handcuffs," Claire confides. They both spend a moment examining their disgruntled friend, who is pacing around like a caged animal.
"Did you try the glove compartment in your car?" Jill offers helpfully. She receives a glower in return.
"Of course," Lindsay practically snarls. When Claire frowns in response to her tone, she sighs apologetically. "I'm sorry, Jill. I don't mean to take my frustration out on you. It's not your fault."
Jill shakes her head, "It's okay, you have every right to be upset."
A look of resolve crosses the inspector's features. Her shoulders coil in tension and her frame towers to its full height, her face becomes a mask of ruthless determination. This is a look her friends know well. Even the most hardened criminal has withered at this sight. "Alright, we can do this. We solve murders for a living, for crying out loud. Let's lay this out and try to find some leads."
Her friends glance at each other. Claire is the first to talk. "Lindsay, honey, you know we'll help you in any way we can. But there's no body, there's no crime scene. There are no search warrants to be drawn up. Beyond sitting here and helping you look through your things, what, exactly, do you expect us to do?"
The inspector seems to visibly deflate. Jill wraps her arm around Lindsay's shoulders consolingly. "I'm sure they'll turn up."
Jill's arms were raised above her head, her wrists handcuffed to the bedpost. She arched her back, yearning for Cindy's touch.
"Ah, ah," Cindy chastened, remaining just out of reach. "Not until I say so."
Jill pouted but lowered back down to the bedcovers.
"Now," Cindy began tracing idle shapes over Jill's smooth stomach, causing a low moan to escape the mouth of her captive. "The first thing we're trained to do on the force, when we capture a criminal, is to search them." She began at the top of Jill's outstretched arms, and dragged her hands down along the soft skin. The lightness of her touch sent a shiver through Jill, who tried not to squirm.
"Tell me, miscreant, are you hiding any weapons?" Cindy's hands slid lower, and cupped Jill's breasts.
"No, Inspector," Jill rasped, happily playing along.
"Very good," intoned Cindy. "Of course, I'll still need to confirm." She brushed her thumbs over Jill's nipples, and then moved further down to her stomach to trace light patterns around her navel. After a few tantalizing minutes, she continued over her hips. "Anything down here?" she murmured. She moved her hands over Jill's thighs, then down around her knees and calves. "No knives hidden around your ankles, I see." Cindy smiled, and Jill bit her lip at how adorable she could be.
Cindy began moving back up along the inside of her legs. She could sense Jill's breathing quicken. "I'm afraid I may have to perform a cavity search," she whispered. It was a cheesy line, but by this point they were both so caught up in the movement of Cindy's hands that neither woman seemed particularly to care.
Jill's breath caught in her throat, but she managed to gasp out, "Yes, Inspector."
One thing Jill learned early on was that Cindy was a surprisingly proficient lover. Not that she should have been surprised; after all, the reporter's attentiveness to detail was sure to transfer over to other arenas. True to form, Cindy studied every inch of Jill, took note of every reaction, every held breath, every gasp and moan, and used that knowledge in exciting and creative ways. Until now, Jill had never considered herself to be the submissive type. But under Cindy's careful guidance, she learned that there was a joy in letting go, and being able to trust your partner explicitly.
"I don't want you to cum until I say so," Cindy directed, pausing from her ministrations to make sure Jill understood. Jill nodded and shut her eyes tightly. It was already getting difficult for her to hold back. "And keep breathing," Cindy chided.
Jill let herself succumb to the sensations, feeling the waves of pleasure swell within her but never quite cascade over. She was under orders and she would follow them freely. With every breath the sensations grew within her, and it was only when she heard Cindy murmur, "Now, love," that she allowed herself to crescendo with a mind-shattering release.
Cindy walks into the precinct, and seems surprised to see them all standing around. "Oh, hey guys!" She can feel the tension in the room, so she immediately asks, "What's up?"
"Lindsay can't find her handcuffs," Jill and Claire both offer at the same time.
Cindy's mouth forms an 'oh,' and her eyes widen imperceptibly.
"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" Jill asks impishly.
Cindy flashes her a glare, but recovers quickly enough. "Uh, nope," she shifts from foot to foot, "haven't seen them."
Lindsay watches her reaction with interest, her eyes narrowing to piercing orbs. She seems about to say something, but just then Jacobi returns, signalling to Lindsay and leading their cuffed suspect into an interrogation room. The inspector immediately heads off to join them.
"Well, I'd better get back to work, too," Claire sighs, heading down to the morgue.
Jill winks at Cindy. Before walking back up to her office, she mouths, "So worth it."
Cindy glances around, and then casually moves towards Lindsay's desk. She roots in her purse for a moment, and then pulls out an object that gleams for just a moment in the light, but is then hidden beneath a sheaf of papers. With a final look around, the reporter quickly makes her way out of the station.
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