DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. Dollhouse belongs to Joss Whedon and Fox. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
When the doorbell rings, Sandy Masterson nearly runs for the door, opening it to the woman with the infectious smile who's dressed to kill. After a week of hardcore tests and lab hours, she can't wait for the girl's night out with her friend to properly unwind.
"Ready?" Chloe asks, opening her arms and Sandy wraps her in a firm hug. "You bet."
Some have told her before that she's too serious. Others, not so diplomatic, called her boring. When Chloe is around, Sandy just can't stop smiling. It isn't like she always had problems making friends, but she has high expectations of them, and they're hard to fulfill in her current peer group of Physical Science Masters. Having skipped a couple of classes, she's younger than most. While most of the boys respect or envy her for her knowledge, there are few women and she misses the girl talk of her high school days. Another thing that tends to make people wary of her is that Sandy is rich. No wait, that is not a disadvantage.
Money is what got her Chloe.
"How were your tests?"
"You know how it is. Boring."
Chloe laughs at that, understanding. Being gifted, you still have to sometimes sit down on your ass and study. Annoying, really. Chloe knows all about it, too. "So can we go eat something first? I'm starving."
"Of course." Sandy wraps an arm around her shoulders as they walk to her car. Dinner, movies, clubs, it's an all-inclusive. She doesn't mind. They gave her a girl who can talk astronomics, men, formulas and music all the same. Chloe is perfect. She's addictive. That's why Sandy gladly pays for expenses.
They get into the car, and Chloe rolls down the window on her side, her long red hair wafting in the breeze.
At first, Sandy thought it might feel weird, but it never has, no guilty conscience either. Chloe isn't just an escort, she's been chosen to be the perfect match. The only regret Sandy has is that she has to give her back each time. She'd love her as a permanent roommate. Sandy giggles at the thought of what kind of money would be needed to make that happen probably more than she has. No regrets. She'll enjoy her time with her new best friend.
The young woman draws back, on her face the frightened expression of a child expecting to be hit. What she's just done is all but child-like.
"You kissed me!"
"Was that wrong?" Chloe asks fearfully.
"Yes... No... I mean it was unexpected." Sandy tosses her long dark hair over her shoulder impatiently, trying to figure out how exactly she feels about Chloe breaking the mold of their contract. Unexpected is an euphemism. Shocked no, not really. She will have to think about it. "It's fine."
"Absolutely. Just don't do it again without warning."
They laugh, Chloe, hesitantly. It's four in the morning; as always, they saw a movie together, went dancing, eventually found themselves a cozy booth to talk. Now they're back at Sandy's apartment as the night's about to come to an end.
Sandy folds her tall frame into the spot beside Chloe on the small couch. She's never thought about but now she does. She won't mention it tonight, though, she doesn't want to spook Chloe. Sandy does want a lot more summer nights with her friend.
"Come on," she says. "Let's have one more wine." Patting Chloe's cheek, she adds, "Everything's fine."
He reaches out a hand to her, and she all but hops into the van. "Girls are so much more fun!" she claims, breaking into giggles.
"I bet," he says with a smile, wondering just how complete those 'wipes' are, and how much is still there of hanging out with the 'club,' and of Lindsay Boxer. "Would you like a treatment now?"
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