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.

By Mabel Syrup


She'd fallen asleep on the couch. Blonde hair mussed with several long strands falling forward curtaining closed eyes, kissing the snub nose and otherwise framing her perfect face. An arm lay across her stomach while a stockinged foot was planted on the carpeted floor; the other leg lay stretched out as the couch perfectly accommodated her length. Lindsay reflected on her exhausted friend's exhausting week and couldn't blame her for the social faux pas she'd committed by dozing off during their after dinner debrief. The three glasses of Shiraz Jill had consumed had also, undoubtedly, helped accelerate the process.

Lindsay, far from being offended, took the opportunity to unabashedly study every inch of the slumbering woman's form. She took in the elegantly proportioned figure and marvelled at her outwardly prim and proper countenance even in repose. As Lindsay poured over Jill's physicality, she also let her mind wander over their colourful history together. There was no denying Jill was a sexual being. Her string of past lovers and, Luke and a lucky few aside, her unwillingness to be tied down attested to that fact. Lindsay often tried to appear ambivalent about her friend's devil-may-care attitude towards serious relationships but harboured guilty pleasure in the thought of replicating Jill's feats or at the very least, living vicariously through her. Jill had a penchant, after the right amount of prodding, for relaying stories of her conquests and various lovers in minute, vivid detail. That the re-telling of her exploits contained no hint of shame or embarrassment and were vocalised in particularly colourful language – referencing male and female body parts as a seasoned porn star might -- initially made Lindsay blush but was oddly comforting in that it attested to the strength and honesty of their friendship. Jill was clear that her lovers and sexual appetites were not limited to the male sex and this peaked Lindsay's curiosity and gave her licence to expand her own repertoire of sexual fantasies from the ever present day dreams of her ex-husband, infrequent as they were now becoming, to the possibility of sex with a woman.

Well, sex with this woman. She'd thought about that a lot lately. She couldn't quite fathom, with all her abundant sexual bravado, why a move on Jill's part had never been forthcoming. Despite Jill's tendency to flirt at every opportunity, particularly when she had the safety net of Claire and Cindy's presence, and despite Lindsay's admittedly not-as-practiced attempts at reciprocation, perhaps the bonds of friendship were too important a line to cross. She didn't know the answer and if pressed, would have admitted a tiny level of frustration at Jill's lack of follow through. Yes, she was attracted to Jill. It had taken some time to come to grips with that fact given her own sexual history but the attraction was what it was. Acting upon it further, above safely admiring undetected as she was now, was probably neither sensible nor conducive to sustaining solid friendship.

Or was it? She had no doubt that to even hint to Jill of an attraction was tantamount to seduction occurring within the blink of an eye but was it that easy? Did she want it to be that easy? She needed to savour this; to let it build to a crescendo in her mind before letting the reality of an affair take its course. Something worked for was infinitely more valuable than something easily come by, wasn't it?

As she watched her friend change positions in her sleep so that a hint of a bra-covered breast was now peeking from a loose fitting shirt, she realised she didn't particularly care as long as Jill was in her life in one permutation or another. Degree of difficulty was for divers, gymnasts and dare-devils and Lindsay, while not one for caution, couldn't think of a plausible excuse for denying herself any longer.

The room was dark save for a table lamp that shed subtle ochre light close to Jill's resting crown creating a halo affect around the bleached blonde locks and Lindsay was mesmerised. She took in the stately high cheek bones and cheeks ruddy from the wine. She was awe struck by an austere jawline, a strong chin and unblemished pale skin, save for a couple of slightly raised endearing freckles but it was Jill's parted, damp lips that drew her. They were swollen, slightly stained from the wine and exquisitely enticing. Lindsay's desire to taste their contours was potent.

Her eyes roamed south, unabashedly canvassing the escaped breast. She took in the cream coloured silk of Jill's bra, the way the elastic and underwired boundaries conformed to her shape and marvelled at the hint of nipple blushing pink against its flimsy cover. She imagined its twin and imagined the texture of the meshed and silky barrier under her fingertips. She anticipated tracing the nipple with an index finger and circling it until it rose and seasoned under her careful attention. She revelled in the wish to knead and coax further until the breath hitched in Jill's throat and a telltale blush of arousal appeared across her chest and neck.

Lindsay felt her own breathe hitch and her heartbeat quicken. She looked away trying to release herself from her deep reverie. She stood and padded toward the kitchen allowing a moment to catch her breathe. She poured a glass of water, drank it in several gulps and busied herself tidying; used plates, glasses and cutlery into dishwasher, condiments into cupboards, take-out menus back into drawers. The mundane helped calm her and lessen the ache that had developed between her thighs.

But it wasn't enough. She found herself drawn back to the source of her pleasure. Jill had again switched positions in her sleep so that her steel grey skirt had ridden high and Lindsay almost audibly gasped as she witnessed Jill's toned and smooth upper thighs tantalisingly on display before her. With virtual subconsciousness, she moved closer to afford herself a better view and was rewarded with an expanse of white cotton briefs modestly covering that which Lindsay most wanted to worship. Wispy curls textured the tightly snug panties and a deep crevice tracing the contours of Jill's sex had formed and rendered Lindsay immobile. She stared unblinkingly and imagined the treasure that lay beneath the cotton barrier; lips warm, puffed and pink, folds buried beneath; damp and quivering and awaiting her touch, and the small bundle of nerves - the centre of all pleasure - tucked away for the moment. A powerful keening at Lindsay's groin induced a shudder and she sucked in breath and squeezed her thighs together trying unsuccessfully to diminish the tide of arousal.

She looked away. It became almost painful to gaze at such beauty.

Moving and pacing the living room floor, she was torn between desire and friendship, lust and affection, action and inaction. Her palms were damp and she felt jittery and caged knowing neither how to relieve the pent up tension nor if she trusted herself not to mess with the status quo. She ceased all movement and gazed back at Jill. She finally understood what magnetism was all about and unreflectively closed the distance until she was silently kneeling by the couch just inches from the slumbering woman. She reached and took Jill's hand in her own stirring the sleeping woman as gently as she could. At the first crack of Jill's eyelid, she smiled.

Jill regained consciousness only slowly but once she did, immediately took in her friend's close proximity and the fact that an adept thumb was rubbing tender circles over the back of her hand. Only slightly embarrassed about having been such stellar company, she groaned heavily, stretched and then covered her eyes with the palm of her free hand. She offered Lindsay a pained, crooked grin.

"Did you slip me a mickey, Boxer and were you planning on taking advantage?"

There it was again; the easy, casual flirtation. So practiced that it had become second nature. Her lips were pursed, her eyes were in turn sleepy and crinkled with merriment but Lindsay could only manage a half-grimace in return. She looked away quickly trying not to betray her ruttish disposition but Jill caught it. Jill always caught the subtleties in Lindsay's body language, although on this occasion, she wasn't aware of the precise feeling that drove the action.

Straightening slightly from her prone position, Jill, a model of concern tucked a fingertip under Lindsay's chin in order to raise the eye level to meet her own.

"If I'd known I was going to cause such offence by falling asleep, I would've asked for some matchsticks straight after dinner. What's up?"

Jill twitched her nose, waggled her eyebrows and Lindsay chuckled despite herself.

"Nothing, it's nothing. Not the first time you've fallen asleep on my couch and not the first time you're going to have dog hair all over that very expensive tailored skirt of yours."

One of Lindsay's strong suits was her ability to deflect. She had become adept in the art necessitated by the discomfort of being the centre of attention and a horror at the thought of having to lay bare her feelings.

Jill glanced down and noticed for the first time that her skirt had bunched high on her thighs. The accompanying tug at the corner of Lindsay's mouth told the blonde that the flash of leg and panties hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Catch an eyeful there, slugger?"

Pleased with herself and showing a toothy, lopsided grin, Jill smoothed her skirt back into place and glanced up in time to note Lindsay's roving watchfulness and whimsical expression. Having been discovered, Lindsay's eyes closed momentarily, fingertips smoothed dark eyebrows and with a heavy sigh, she quirked her neck and stared her friend down.

"And it wouldn't be the first time modesty wasn't your strong suit."

"If I'm going to show some thigh it's better directed at you, who has no thought of taking advantage of a girl at her most vulnerable, than at some of the far-from-subtle ogling beasts roaming the halls at the office."

Lindsay's eyes was immediately downcast and her expression changed from one of false bravado to guilt in record time. She was nothing if not honest and her body language had again betrayed her. Jill had no intention however of letting this blatant display of discomfiture pass a second time.

"Okay Linz, out with it. And don't tell me it's nothing. You're guilt tripping and I want to know why."

Jill sat up and leaned forward, rested elbows on knees, tucked knuckles under chin and gave Lindsay the eyeball. At the advance, Lindsay rocked back and sat cross-legged on the floor, cradling her head in her hands. It was decision time and she was at a loss; advance or retreat, truth or lie, friendship or more? Her libido hadn't subsided in the slightest and the object of her desire was only inches away but the rational part of her brain, the part that longed for clarity and status quo, was also hard at work overriding the emotional and physical response she'd been trying to keep at bay for most of the evening.

Sheepishly, Lindsay looked up at Jill through impossibly long dark lashes and took a deep breath which she exhaled audibly through her mouth.


Concern rung out in Jill's voice. She reached to grip Lindsay's hands between her own. She'd seen the gamut of Boxer emotions over the years and this one was a mixture of guilt, trepidation and frustration. She didn't know what had transpired in the period between falling asleep and waking but she was pretty sure sufficient time hadn't passed for anything work related to intervene and cause such havoc. She waited. Often it was best to wait it out where Lindsay's quest for eloquence was concerned although Jill could tell her friend's mind was playing tug-o'-war.

After a moment, Lindsay shrugged, raised herself to her knees, leaned towards her friend and sweetly and shyly kissed the corner of her mouth before beating a quick retreat. Dark eyes sheepishly met Jill's and then lowered again as if embarrassed by her own lack of conviction.

It was then that Jill saw the arousal mixed with a tinge of fear in those downcast eyes. This was a display she was entirely familiar with and she couldn't help the small grin that crossed her lips.

"Well, it's about time, Ms Nun-in-a-convent."

Lindsay caught the self satisfied smirk she was offered and returned it despite her insecurities. She reached for Jill hesitantly, only slowly beginning to trust her instincts. She leaned into the palm Jill then offered, which cupped her face tenderly, almost too afraid to believe this was actually happening.

"Yeah well, call me slow on the uptake."

Jill's thumb moved to trace Lindsay's bottom lip and she then lowered herself to sit side-saddle on the carpeted floor. She held back slightly allowing the raven-haired woman time to adjust and to call the shots if necessary although Lindsay's surprisingly quick advance told her any inhibitions were about to be overcome.

"God help me, Jill. I don't know what I'm doing but I sure want to be doing it with you."

Lindsay whispered her lust and tucked stray blonde strands behind a blushing ear. Capturing Jill's lips in a searing, heartfelt kiss, she took away breath and balance. Jill tasted sweetness and passion and as a tongue tip laved across her lips, she greedily accepted it onto her own. Swirling and teasing, Jill felt the intimate oral contact way down in the pit of her belly where it burned its way lower to settle as radiant damp heat in her groin. She groaned against the talented mouth before momentarily breaking contact to pull Lindsay up onto the couch.

They settled in side by side and held each other close luxuriating in familiar scents, familiar body curves and familiar physical closeness. There had been demonstrative expressions in the past between the two but nothing like this intense intimacy and Lindsay felt alive and desperate. In a dawning of self awareness brought on by the gloriously sensual embrace, Lindsay realised just how comfortable and natural a fit their bodies were together.

With a feather-light touch, she traced the bridge of Jill's nose before brushing lightly over jaw and cheek and up into the baby soft, fine hairline. A reconnection at the lips brought sighs and smiles and an eventual settling of legs between thighs and urgency was spurred on by the delicious agitation. The loose but compelling mutual rocking caused friction where it was most needed. Mewling moans filled the intimate space as two sets of fingers, moving independently, worked to rid the barriers of belts, zippers and other clothing. Within minutes, cotton underwear was traversed simultaneously amid the pressing need for direct sliding, moist contact. Epicurean stroking, rubbing, grinding and immersion into warm wetness became an unequivocal necessity culminating in breathless, panting, groaning, drenched concurrent orgasm.

Her breathing still ragged in the aftermath, Lindsay leaned into Jill kissing the exposed damp skin of her chest conscious of the tears of sated joy welling in her own eyes. Never had she experienced such consummate pleasure or felt in such harmony with another human being. She held Jill tightly, indulging in flushed and buttery soft skin and smiled at her lover's attempts to get her breathing and her person back under some semblance of control. Lindsay revelled in the fact that she'd caused that; she was responsible for Jill's current lack of propriety and she nuzzled in closer overcome with feelings of tenderness and affection.

Lindsay had her answer.

The End

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