DISCLAIMER: Criminal Minds and its characters are the property of CBS. Law & Order belongs to NBC and Dick Wolf. No infringement intended.
SERIES: First part of Ann & Fewthistle's 'Dirty Little Secret' series.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

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By Fewthistle


The pounding thump of the bass assaulted her ears long before she made it inside the club. Standing in the line outside, she wondered if she would get in. The line was long, beautiful young things all around her, girls and boys fifteen years younger than she was, bodies barely past the thin, gawkiness of adolescence, still awkward, uncertain, despite the casual drape of clothes and the innate arrogance of youth.

Still, she didn't look too bad for thirty-five and as she came even with the bouncer, an immense leather clad specimen as wide as he was tall, the gilded clasp of the rope across the entrance was pulled open and she slipped into the throbbing dark warmth of the club.

The music surrounded her, seeping into her body through her ears, her eyes, her skin, the nebulous rhythm entering her bloodstream, rounded notes and uneven staccato beats mingling with red and white blood cells, racing without mercy towards her heart, altering her own rhythm to thud in time with the bass. Her eyes adjusted to a darkness shattered by the hypnotic pulse of strobe lights, synchronized to the surging tempos.

All around her, bodies milled, seeking, searching in the half-light of that flickering sun; groping for comfort, for sustenance, for just one moment of living to make up for all the endless years of life.

She moved slowly toward the bar, negotiating around a bevy of tall, gorgeous drag queens, their evening gowns sparkling like Liberace's fingers in the incandescent pulses of colored light. One of them smiled at her and winked as she moved past, and she couldn't help but grin back, a murmured, "great dress" met with the booming baritone of laughter from its wearer.

She finally made it to the bar, a shiny length of black tile and vinyl that stretched the length of one wall, smoke stained mirrors reflecting back vague, clouded images.

"Bombay and tonic." She had to yell her order to the bartender, a tall , slender young man who had clearly changed in a hurry, the remnants of foundation and eyeliner still evident on his face, the huge, dangling shimmer of rhinestone earrings incongruous against the dull formality of white tuxedo shirt and black vest.

He turned without acknowledging her, and pulled a square blue bottle from the overstacked shelf behind him, the clear liquid rushing out in a thin stream into a low plastic tumbler, filled to the brim with ice and then the bubbles of tonic.

"Seven," He said shortly, already listening to the next order as he slid the glass towards her, the ten she gave him vanishing like magic into a drawer to be replaced with three crumpled ones.

Leaving one of them on the bar, she turned to cross over to the far side of the room, away from the chaos of the bar and the tangled turmoil of the dance floor. Finding an empty spot along the wall, she stood, taking a long sip of her drink, cringing just a bit at the feel of the thin plastic of the cup against her teeth.

She needed this. After another mind-numbing day going over discrimination cases, she needed to turn her mind off, to let the swell of sound and energy rush over her. She had only been living in DC for three months now, and this was the first time she had allowed herself the luxury of seeing what the city had to offer. God knows, it wasn't Manhattan, but then, nothing was. Unless she decided to revisit some memories best forgotten, she had better get used to that fact. Right now, all she wanted was to forget.

She saw her as she entered the club. So did half the women in there, eyes swiveling, heads turning to stare unabashedly. She took in a deep breath, her own eyes watching as she drew nearer, sweeping up from long legs to the perfect fall of dark hair, stopping at several intervals along the way, lingering on the full lushness of red lips and the intelligence clear in dark brown eyes.

She was older, not one of the young things flitting around the club like drunken fireflies; elegant, graceful, an unconscious sexiness in the sway of her hips. She seemed completely oblivious to the stares that followed her across the room.

It wasn't until they were a few feet apart that their eyes met, a brief, shocked instant of recognition flitting across those dark eyes before she realized her mistake, the smile touching those full lips holding a trace of disappointment. The woman paused, her steps slowing for half a minute before she seemed to make some decision and resumed her course, straight for her blonde quarry. She stopped just in front of her, close enough to be able to speak in a relatively normal tone of voice, the spicy scent of her perfume caressing the blonde's senses.

"I have a feeling that you've probably heard all of my best pickup lines," the brunette said, eyes crinkling as a smile revealed perfect white teeth.

"Do you have a lot of them?" She asked back, her own smile teasing.

"Not so many. I don't usually try to pick up strange women in bars, so my repertoire is fairly limited." Her brown eyes were so dark that iris and pupil merged into one.

"Well, clearly you just need more practice, then. I'd be happy to listen to them and let you know which ones might work." She said seriously, only the twinkle in clear blue eyes giving her away.

"That's really sweet of you, but I think I'd be ashamed to have you hear them. Some of them I haven't trotted out since the early nineties." The brunette tilted her head to the right, a cascade of dark silk slipping across her shoulders as her hair fell, leaving exposed a slender column of creamy skin along her throat.

She laughed, "So, what made you decide to drag them out and dust them off?"

The woman paused, her expression changing, a shifting of muscles in her face, a softening around her eyes.

"I don't know," she admitted finally, "I guess it's that you look a lot like someone I know."

"Someone you can't have?" She asked gently, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah, someone I can't have."

The blonde was still for a moment, bottom lip caught between her front teeth, brows drawn down in contemplation before she reached out and tentatively ran her hand along the satiny skin of the other woman's arm, feeling the flex of muscle, hearing the sharp intake of breath.

"So, would it make it any better if, just for tonight, even though I'm not her, you could have me?"

She raised her eyes and met dark ones, watching as a battle waged, uncertain of the outcome, but oddly invested in what it might be. The answer wasn't long in coming, as a slow, hungry smile slipped across that lovely face.

"I'm Emily. Government employee."

"Serena. Anti-discrimination attorney."

They both laughed.

"What agency?" Serena asked, seeing the indecision flit across Emily's face. She simply met the intense gaze candidly, waiting again for the other woman to decide.

Apparently what she saw satisfied her, or perhaps she was just beyond caring, because she said in a voice pitched only for Serena's ears.

"I'm an FBI agent." Serena could still see the hint of doubt in Emily's face as she revealed her occupation.

"Does that mean that you have your very own gun and handcuffs?" Blue eyes peered out from under long lashes teasingly.

Emily chuckled appreciatively, stepping a little closer to Serena.

"If I had used that as one of my pickup lines, would it have worked?" She leaned forward and whispered in Serena's ear, breath warm against her cheek.

"Actually, to tell the truth, all you needed to say was, 'hi, my name is Emily. Come home with me'," Serena murmured back, a flush of heat suffusing her neck and chest at the tickle of Emily's breath against her ear and the warmth radiating off her body.

Emily pulled back and stared into Serena's blue eyes, her own eyes unreadable, lids dropping down to half cover them.

Suddenly she leaned forward again, although this time, her arm slipped around Serena's waist, pulling her close, the feel of that slender body against her own forcing a rush of air from Serena's lungs.

"Hi, my name is Emily. Come home with me."

The skin under her hands was flawless, her fingers tracing along the slope of collarbone, down the slightly raised line of sternum, between the rounded swells of flesh. They skirted the curving edge of each breast, their touch so light that it raised goose bumps, the resulting shiver just visible in the slender body under her. Her lips explored as well, nipping gently down the sensitive skin of Emily's throat, pressing open mouthed kisses along the same line her fingers had traced, her tongue circling quickly hardening nipples.

Drawing one, then the other into the moist, slick warmth of her mouth, Serena indulged herself, opening her lips to surround the whole areola, her tongue flicking the pebbled nub, teeth scraping gently. From the noises coming from Emily, she suspected strongly that the brunette had no real objections to her ongoing ministrations.

Emily gasped loudly as that warm mouth closed around her nipple, encircling it, sucking gently, coaxing it, teasing it with tongue and teeth. Serena's hand rose to Emily's other breast, slender fingers massaging and rubbing firmly against that nipple, careful to not leave it neglected.

Emily brought her hands up to tangle in the thickness of golden hair, urging Serena closer, her back arching up at the same moment to press her breast nearer to that seeking mouth. Serena appeared to see no necessity to rush, those amazing lips now moving at a leisurely pace back and forth between her breasts, sucking less than gently on her hardened nipples, scraping across them with her front teeth, eliciting soft groans.

Of their own accord, Emily felt her thighs part wider, allowing Serena's leg to slip between, the warm satin of her skin now just brushing against her. Serena could feel the wetness as Emily moved her hips, pushing up and then back in a slow rhythm, the smooth skin of her thigh quickly becoming slick with moisture.

Lowering her other hand between their bodies, Serena raised her thigh to allow her better access, her fingers sliding against warm, wet flesh, moving unerringly down, as three slim fingers slipped inside Emily, the heel of her hand pressed firmly against her clit, the weight of her thigh coming back to rest, increasing the pressure. Emily's hips surged up against her hand, her back arching, her head tilted back into the softness of the pillow.

Serena again focused her attention on now swollen, bruised looking nipples, her touch no longer gentle, rolling them between the sharpness of her front teeth, each bite drawing a hiss from Emily, her hands still tangled in Serena's hair. Emily's movements were becoming faster and more erratic, and Serena raised herself up on her other hand to give added leverage, as her own hips took up the same staggered rhythm, Emily's thigh now pressing up against her own wet center.

Serena felt Emily's fingers digging into the flesh of her hips as she urged Serena closer, faster, harder. Serena knew that she would probably have slender appendage shaped bruises tomorrow, but she didn't care.

She could feel her own orgasm building, the slide of her clit against the smooth skin of Emily's leg torturously pleasant, each surge forward of her hips sliding her fingers in and out of Emily in a slow, steady motion. She could feel as each thrust in became tighter around her fingers, and the convulsive grasp of Emily's hands on her hips told her that the brunette was just as close.

"Fuck," Emily groaned, along with a name that Serena just barely heard. Her dark head was thrown back at an uncomfortable angle, her eyes closed, breath now coming in punctuated gasps. Serena felt Emily tighten convulsively around her fingers, that slender body shuddering under hers. Serena's breathing wasn't any better, her skin, along with Emily's, ruddy with exertion, coated with a sheen of moisture.

Serena lowered her head, trying unsuccessfully to catch her breath, her hand still trapped between Emily's thighs. Finally, her heart slowed enough that the wave of lightheadedness passed, Serena slid back, gently pulling her fingers free, slowly flexing them to get her circulation going again.

She rolled over to the side, seeing the steady rise and fall of Emily's chest as her breathing returned to normal. Placing a hand lightly on Emily's breastbone, Serena propped herself up on her other hand, reasonably pleased to see the relaxed state of the woman beside her.

"I don't want this to be awkward, so I'm just going to ask. Would you like me to leave?" Serena asked, her tone as casual as she could manage.

Emily turned her head to face her, dark eyes surprised, one thin eyebrow raised questioningly.

"No. Unless you want to leave, that is," she answered, her own tone a little less than confident.

"No. I just didn't want you to feel like you couldn't kick me out. It is your apartment," Serena confessed, gratified at the clear sincerity of Emily's response.

Emily chuckled.

"If I had wanted something quick and simple, I would have insisted we go to your place. Besides, you did mention something about my handcuffs, didn't you?"

Much later, lying quietly as the first streaks of light grazed the gray sky outside the balcony doors, Serena watched Emily sleeping, quite overwhelmed at the gorgeous creature whose bed she was sharing. Reaching out, she gently brushed a strand of dark hair from Emily's cheek, careful not to wake her.

"Whoever Jennifer is, I certainly hope that she knows what she's missing," Serena murmured, too softly for Emily to hear.

The End

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