Title: Some Kinda
Fandom: Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow
Pairing: Polly Perkins/Capt. Franky Cook
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned in this story, I'm just borrowing them so that they can have their way with each other.
Polly sighed as she walked into the floating air force bases mess hall. Joe had taken off early that morning with Dex in his newly repaired plane to head back to Sky Island and get it operational once more. Her safe return to New York however, had been left to the care of Captain Franky and her amphibious warriors. Not that Polly minded, really. After all it wasn't as if she was in a huge hurry to ride in Joe's flying death machine again anytime soon. So, she had taken the time that her now Joe-Free existence granted her, and commandeered a free supply closet turning it into a makeshift black-room to develop her film. This hadn't exactly gone over well with the maintenance staff of the air ship once they'd found her out, but luckily, and perhaps a bit surprisingly, Captain Franky had come to her rescue and allowed her to stay in the closet. It had seemed a fortunate break at the time, however she was beginning to wish she had just taken a nap.
Flinging herself down into one of the mess halls metal chairs rather unceremoniously, Polly dramatically flung the folder full of photos she had been holding onto the table and tipped her fedora over her face, before resting her head against the wall behind her. She couldn't believe she had left the lens cap on. Groaning softly, she told herself that that's what she got for giving into the more sentimental part of her personality.
"Miss Perkins? Is that you under there?"
Polly straightened up in her chair slightly at the question. She recognized the teasing voice immediately. It was Captain Franky: Dashing and Dangerous Amphibious Warrior Woman Extraordinaire. And she had left the lens cap on. Struggling not to sigh in frustration, Polly casually reached for her fedora plucking it off of her face before placing it on the table before her.
"The one and only, Captain Franky," Polly responded plastering a smile across her painted red lips. Settling more respectably in her seat – which was quite a challenging task in a tailored suit – Polly looked up and over at Franky just in time to catch the other woman raise an eyebrow and smirk. Polly just barely resisted the urge to slap herself on the forehead. Captain Franky was her own little, previously private, nickname for the other woman. "I'm working on my undercover techniques," she continued before embarrassment could get the better of her.
"Already preparing for your next big adventure?" Franky asked smiling down at Polly. Or, Polly thought to herself, her journalistic flare for the dramatic kicking in, 'towering over me like some ancient goddess of the hunt, dark, predatory, dangerous and alluring, silently calling for an offering, for me to kneel at her alter'. "May I?" Franky continued gesturing to the seat beside Polly, her smooth, crisp, polished tones drawing Polly out of her thoughts.
Polly thought about responding, 'It's your aerial destroyer', however deciding that her smart mouth had gotten her into enough trouble of the past couple of days, she went with the more polite reply of, "Please do."
"Is this what you annexed my equipment locker for?" Franky asked, her eye drifting down to the brown manila envelope sitting on top of the table.
"Borrowed," Polly responded slightly indignant. "And I stacked everything neatly outside." Franky simply lifted that lovely blue-green eye up to look at her however, and Polly felt compelled to add. "But, yes it is."
"May I?" Franky asked her voice tinged with curiosity. It was the first time Polly had heard the woman anything but cool as a cucumber.
"Can you keep a secret?" Polly asked. She knew that she probably shouldn't show the other woman the pictures, that it could compromise her story, but she was also a natural exhibitionist and she desperately wanted to show off.
Franky looked around the room silently for a moment, and then turned back to Polly. "Yes, I think so."
"Right," Polly said feeling a little foolish. "Then be my guest," she continued pushing the envelope over towards Franky.
Polly watched the other woman as she carefully removed the photos from their folder and began to look through them. Though she hated to admit it, she could see what Joe saw in the other woman. She was extraordinary beautiful. Her raven coloured tresses highlighted her strong, but still delicate bone structure, and pale skin framed by that dark hair brought out the amazing, almost oceanic shade of her eyes. And those lips, they were absolute perfect for her. Pillow-like and welcoming, they softened her features, allowing Franky to look both powerfully striking and commanding, as well as soft and womanly. It was the perfect mix.
A movement of Franky's fingers drew Polly's attention away from her face, and towards her hands. As Franky moved through the photographs she was placing them face down beside her in a neat stack, keeping them in the same order Polly had given them to her in. Polly watched as Franky gently ran her finger up and down the length of the edge of photograph in her hand while her good eye studied it carefully. She was slightly surprised by the lightness and delicacy of the movement. It was so feminine and such a contrast to the dark, coarse leather outfit she had run her eyes over on the way to Franky's hands. But looking at the hands in question, at the long, tapered, almost elegant fingers, Polly supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Polly had expected something rougher, and thicker, maybe with calluses from the other woman, but the only difference between Franky's hands and her own was the red nail polish she had applied to her fingertips that morning.
Polly frowned; minutely annoyed that someone should be allowed to be that powerful, and fearless and beautiful without any flaws. Sure, there was the eye-patch, but even that didn't take away from the Captain's beauty. In fact, in a way, Polly thought that it enhanced it. It made her seem mysterious and dangerous without her having to do a thing.
"These are amazing."
The words drew Polly out of her contemplation of the other woman. Feeling a blush start to come to her cheeks, Polly wondered what excuse she could use to explain her staring, however as she finally screwed up the courage to look at the Captain, she found that Franky was still looking at the pictures. The first one in the pile she realized as she saw that the stack Franky had started had disappeared.
"You were right underneath them," Franky continued this time looking up, her eye locking on Polly for a moment as she fished out one of the pictures she was referring to and placed it on the table top. To Polly, it sounded as if Franky was impressed, and for some reason that made her proud.
"It was dangerous," Polly began looking down at the picture as she spoke. "But if you kept a cool head, not as dangerous as one might think," she went on looking over at Franky confidentially as she spoke. "People were running around like chickens who'd just got their heads cut off, panicking, reacting not thinking. But big as these things were, they were slow … once they were on the ground. And if you were within a certain range of them their guns and lasers couldn't reach you. Debris was the biggest problem. Huge chunks of concrete were falling everywhere, and cars and buses were being overturned and hurled around. But I realized, the closer you were to them, the safer you were since the debris would bounce off of them and the cars were being blown away from them. But, I'd be lying if I said I didn't realize that's were the best photo opportunities were as well," Polly went on smirking slightly.
Franky listened intently as Polly went on, telling her about how she snapped the first pictures of the package, the ones from downtown New York. However, as she listened she also took up a study of the other woman, perhaps she thought to herself, seeing Polly Perkins for the first time. The truth was she hadn't thought much of reporter the first time she saw her practically falling off of the wing of Joe's plane in her fedora and pumps. And the name Polly Perkins hadn't really done anything to dissuade her of her first impression of Polly as a dumb Dora. Frankly, finally meeting Polly had made her wonder why she had ever fancied Joe, if that was what he chose over her. She had grudgingly admitted later that day, as Polly had insisted on accompanying Joe into the underwater base, that perhaps she had been a bit unfair to Polly in her first assessment of her. After all, the reporter had remained remarkably cool under circumstances most people would have found overwhelming. However, it wasn't until a few minutes ago that Franky understood just what it was Joe saw in Miss Polly Perkins.
She was feisty, Franky had to admit that. And in her own way quite fearless. Despite her apparel, Polly Perkins was no damsel in distress and Franky liked that. And if Joe's interest in her was any indication, he too liked a woman that could take care of herself. Polly was also tenacious. As Polly went on to talk about the rest of the photographs in the package, detailing how she had bullied Joe into making a deal with her, Franky realized she was not someone to be taken lightly. In one on one fisticuffs Polly wouldn't have been very intimidating, but she was surely a formidable foe. And, Franky had to admit, beautiful.
She might have found a tailored suit, pumps and a fedora impractical … for pretty much everything, but Polly certainly wore them well. And with her long, flowing blonde hair and blood red painted lips, she looked like a siren from the silver screen. She was, Franky realized, the ballsy, busty female lead in every movie, that all of her men creamed themselves over. And she had lovely, beautiful, milky skin. Franky resisted the urge to sigh. She was beginning to see what Joe saw in Polly Perkins a bit too well. She had sought Polly out to size up her competition only find herself checking out her competition. The latter was certainly more enjoyable, and idly thought that she would like it better if Polly Perkins weren't competition at all. After all, as career girls in a man's world, it would serve them well to stick together.
"What happened to the last two?" Franky asked as Polly finished up her story, her question genuinely curious despite where her thoughts had been taking her moments before.
Polly looked over at Franky searchingly for a long moment. There was an openness to the other woman that hadn't been there when she first came in the room. The smirking, eyebrow wagging, Captain Franky that she had come to know and tolerate seemed to have been replaced by something much more real. She wondered if she were finally seeing Francesca.
"I fell when we were being chased across a fallen tree by some sort of Mastodon like creature," Polly responded, the frustration she felt at the time she had discovered she had shot the ground showing through in her voice.
"And the other one," Franky asked, realizing that the one Polly had just described was the second last picture, a close-up of mossy bark.
"Lens cap," Polly murmured feeling some heat come to her face. She still left like a complete jackass about that one. At least with the brown bark picture she had been being chased by a Mastodon like creature. That was a rather convincing excuse, but there was just nothing that could make that lens cap one hurt less.
"Happens to the best of us," Franky stated seeing the faint blush come to Polly's cheek and hearing the recrimination in her tone. The other woman had far too much to be proud of to be beating herself up over two ruined pictures. "Tell you what, I'll buy you a drink."
"A bar too? Is there anything you can't get on this floating wonder?" Polly asked raising an eyebrow. A stiff drink actually sounded damn good to her at the moment.
"A decent manicure," Franky drawled holding Polly's gaze for a moment before her features dissolved into a slow smile. She then pushed back her chair and stood gracefully before holding out her hand to Polly.
Polly looked up at Franky, then down at her hand, a charmingly befuddled expression coming to her face. A woman had never offered their hand to her before, since it was at the very least if not courting behavior then gentlemanly. Looking back up at Franky though, Polly decided that the other woman did cut a dashing figure.
Polly reached out and placed her hand in Franky's, inhaling unexpectedly when she felt Franky's fingers wrap around her own, holding onto them tightly as the Captain helped her stand, but also gently. "This way, Miss Perkins," Franky continued turning her head in Polly's direction once the blonde was on her feet. Polly noticed that Franky still cradled her hand in her own and turned to look, slightly down she realized with a bit of shock – though she realized they probably would've been the same height if it wasn't for her heels – at the other woman, but Franky's eye-patch was facing her so she couldn't read the expression in her eyes.
A moment later Franky dropped her hand and headed for the door of the mess hall. Polly watched her walk for a few steps. She had hung back at first to try and calm her heart, which for some reason seemed to have speed up to an alarming rate in the previous few minutes, but soon found herself simply watching the sway of Franky's hips as she swaggered towards the door. She was a chose bit of calico, Polly had to admit.
"Is everything alright Miss Perkins?" Franky asked from inside the doorway, turning her head over her shoulder to call back to the other woman. She had noticed Polly's small gasp as she taken the other woman's hand in hers, and was certain that she had felt Polly watching her as she walked away, the slightly dazed expression on the blonde's face as she spoke only confirming this in her mind. Franky fought back the urge to smile. These events were very promising.
"Polly," Polly responded immediately.
"Polly," Franky amended. Yes, it was very promising indeed.
"Sorry," Polly said, finally spurring herself into motion and heading for the door. "I don't know where my minds at," she continued brushing past Franky, uncomfortably aware of the other woman's proximity to her.
Franky simply smiled as the door to the mess closed behind them. Placing her hand on the small of Polly's back a moment later, presumably to help guide her through the maze of corridors that made up her ship, Franky murmured lightly, "There's no need for apologies … Polly."
There was definitely a shiver.
There was, as it turned, not actually a bar on board the airbase, only a very well stocked cabinet in Captain Cook's quarters. Not that Polly was complaining, as it was a VERY well stocked cabinet. The room was larger than Polly expected based on the rest of the base, but it was rather spartan with few chairs. Franky had seen her look at the rather large bed rather dubiously, and with a wave of her hand had told to Polly to fix herself a drink while she busied herself gathering the few pillows she had around her quarters to create a make-shift lounging area for them on the floor. Somewhat predictably Polly had taken over the majority of the pillows, not that Franky was complaining since the reporter was turning out to be even better company than she was expecting.
"And you didn't lose your job?" Franky asked sounding a little incredulous as Polly finished up a story about a flapper, a senator and one of her first major pieces.
"Not only did I not lose my job," Polly replied smiling rakishly as she looked at Franky. "I got a promotion."
Franky held up a small tumbler full of amber liquid and motioned for Polly to do the same. "Jolly good! Here's to brains, beauty and ingenuity!" Franky declared before bringing the tumbler to her lips and downing it, trying not to laugh as Polly took a polite sip then brought the tumbler down to rest in her lap, though she was smiling at Franky.
"What?" Franky asked pouring herself another, realizing that she was going to be far drunker than Polly by the end of the night. That she probably already was.
"Everything's 'jolly good' with you Brit's, isn't it?" Polly asked having always found the expression to be rather amusing.
"It's a very useful phrase, lots of applications," Franky related seriously. "I suppose you would've preferred, 'Attagirl' or 'Way to go champ'," she continued in an exaggerated Yankee accent while scooping her fist.
"Captain Franky," Polly began in a serious voice, using the nickname she had accidentally spilled early that evening on purpose now since Franky seemed to get a kick out of it. "I do believe you are slightly zozzled."
"You're right. I'm ashamed to admit. I'm more than a little bent," Franky replied enthusiastically knowing that Polly was right and she was slightly drunk. "We must alert the media," she continued turning around as if she was looking for a phone. "Oh, wait," she went on turning back around and eyeing Polly.
Polly leaned back against the pillows behind her back laughing softly. She was surprised and delighted to find out what good company Franky was. The truth was she hadn't been sure what to expect from the other woman, especially when they ended up at her quarters, but she'd discovered that Francesca Cook was a scintillating conversationalist, charming and funny to boot. Franky had an uncanny ability to make fun without making fun of.
She watched as the raven-haired woman placed her tumbler down on the ground carefully, her movements slower than they had been at the beginning of the evening, but still precise. She continued watching Franky as the woman then twisted her body to the side and reached over to the small walnut coloured record player machine that was seated beside her to change the record.
"How'd you lose it?" Polly asked instinctively once Franky twisted back around to face her, the sad, melodic sounds of Louis Armstrong and his Orchestra filling the room around them. "All of Me" Polly idly realized as she watched Franky. At first there was no response, physical or verbal from the other woman, then her back straightened slightly and she diverted her eyes from Polly.
"What goodbye left me with only one eye that cries?" Franky asked finally returning her gaze to Polly as the instrumental break kicked in, a small, pained smirk on her face as she bastardized the lyrics of the song to make them applicable to their situation. "I'd prefer not to, actually," Franky continued her right hand drifting up by her eye-patch before falling limply back down into her lap.
"Of course," Polly said immediately, her tone slightly hushed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have … sometimes my mouth gets the best of me and I don't … think before I badger," she went on, feeling badly for one of the first times she could remember in her young life for asking a question.
"Everyone asks … eventually," Franky stated softly, finally looking back over at Polly. "I guess I'm just a bit sensitive about it," she went on wincing a little bit her head falling to the side again. She still had more than a few unpleasant dreams about it, and a couple of nightmares about nearly being grounded because of it.
Polly watched Franky for a moment and then carefully crawled towards the other woman closing the small distance between them. Hesitating for a moment, she then reached out her hand and placed it on Franky's cheek, urging the other woman to turn her face towards her once again. Franky seemed somewhat startled by her touch and proximity, and under other circumstances Polly probably would've found the reaction amusing, but as it was it simply alarmed her somewhat, and made her want to comfort the other woman in some way even more.
"It seems to me that there's a very good case for that," Polly responded, her finger unconsciously tracing the string that lead from the patch to around Franky's ear, stroking it absently as she spoke.
Polly gasped in surprise as Franky's fingers closed around the wrist of the hand that was caressing her eye-patch. Polly's blue eyes immediately drifted down to find Franky's good eye staring up at her intensely. Polly's hand stilled as she stared down at Franky, her eyes drifting around the Captain's face. Polly blinked and inhaled deeply; it was getting very hot in the room, hot and stuffy. She wished she could've suggested that they open a window. But she knew that wasn't an option, so instead her brain decided to focus on the situation at hand, and her brain discovered that her bare legs were resting against Franky's leather clad ones so that she was almost resting in between the other woman's legs. Her brain discovered that her wrist was practically on fire where Franky's fingers still covered her skin, and as her eyes once again returned to Franky's lips and thoughts of tasting those lips ran through her head, her brain became aware of the fact that her face wasn't the only part of her body getting hot.
"It's getting late," Polly said, her voice cracking and betraying the nervousness and excitement that had taken over her body in the last few minutes. "I should go."
"Or you could stay," Franky replied, her voice barely a whisper as she ran her eyes over Polly's body which was very, very close to her own.
"I think we've both had enough to drink," Polly responded pulling back slightly, her voice still shaky. She was intensely relieved when Franky released her wrist without any prompting.
"I've retired my tumbler for the night," Franky stated watching Polly as she leaned back on her legs, her hand resting on her thighs smoothing on invisible wrinkles from her skirt. Franky watched Polly silently for a moment, waiting for her to fully extract herself, to move away from her body back to where she had been sitting before, or towards the door, but instead Polly stayed crouched between her legs fiddling with her skirt. The actions of woman who thought she should leave but didn't want to.
"So we're agreed," Polly said feeling like she should do something. She knew that she should move, that she should pull back to where she had been seated before, but for some reason she couldn't get her body to move. She couldn't seem to do anything but play with her skirt and talk. "I'll just shove off then."
"Or you could stay," Franky replied debating with herself whether she should reach for Polly's hand, or if that would break the trance that seemed to have descended over them. Polly was feeling at the moment, acting instinctually instead of intellectually, and this meant that Polly was feeling her. But if she started to think about the situation too much before Franky could get her to understand what she was feeling, then it could all be over before it even began.
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Polly said softly, her eyes drifting over to the side to take up a detailed study of the record player. Instinctively she knew that looking at anything but Franky would better help her cause.
"Why?" Franky asked, her tone curious rather than demanding. She had a pretty good idea what the real answer to the question was but she wanted to see how Polly would react. "I thought we were having a good time."
"We were. We are," Polly responded her eyes drifting back over to Franky in an attempt to assure the other woman that it wasn't her company – in the strictest sense – that was making her want to flee. However, she soon realized that was the worst thing she could've done, as she got caught up in Franky's gaze again and continued talking when she should've done anything but. "Too good a time."
Franky smiled at that, a big toothy grin, perhaps the most open and genuine smile Polly had seen from the woman since she met her. Not that that was entirely all that long ago Polly reminded herself. However, with Franky grinning up at her happily like that her reminder packed less of a punch than she would have liked. "How exactly is that a bad thing?" Franky asked, drawing Polly's full attention to her once more.
She's caught, Franky thought as Polly pursed her lips slightly, her brows furrowing in thought.
I'm caught, Polly thought to herself as she pursed her lips and furrowed her brows in thought. But caught doing what? She asked herself. But she knew, she knew exactly what she'd been caught at she just didn't want to admit it. She was attracted to Captain Franky, and she was sorely tempted to try and do something about that attraction and that's why she was trying to leave. And Franky was questioning her about it because she … knew exactly what Polly was doing.
"What are you playing at?" Polly suddenly demanded, her tone indignant as she swatted Franky on the arm.
"What am I playing at!" Franky repeated, lifting up her hand to catch Polly's wrist as she went for another blow. "What are you playing at?"
"You can't ask me that," Polly stated struggling with Franky, trying to get her to release her hand so that she could hit her again. She suspected Franky knew that's what she was planning on doing, which is why she was holding on so tightly. "I already asked you that, and I asked you that first!"
"Well, I asked you that second, which means that mine was most immediate question asked and should be the first to be answered," Franky replied still struggling to hold on to Polly's arm which was really more challenging than it should have been. She suspected that she really had gone past zozzled and was fairly close to blotto when she had stopped drinking, which is why she wasn't sure what she had just said made any sense and why Polly Perkins was very nearly overpowering her. She found however, that fighting with Polly was sobering her up quickly, which was somewhat comforting.
"Let go of me," Polly demanded. "That didn't even make any sense, and I demand that you let go of me!" Franky however did not let go of her and Polly lifted her other hand to beat Franky's other arm.
"Oh, good grief," Franky grumbled transferring Polly's wrist into one hand so that she could try and get the other.
"I said unhand me, limey," Polly exclaimed once Franky had captured her other hand leaving her flailing about rather ineffectively.
"My, my, you are a live wire, aren't you?" Franky asked, jerking Polly by her hands lightly to get her attention. "Now you listen to me Polly. I'm not playing at anything here. I'm on the up and up and if you have a question to ask me then all you've got to do is just ask me, you understand. So I'm going to let go of your hands now, and you positively better not try to smack me again, you hear?" Franky waited for Polly's nod then released her hands, truly expecting the blonde to give her at least one for the road. However, Polly kept her word and simply drew her hands into her lap, rubbing at her wrists lightly.
'Ah, hell,' Frankly thought to herself seeing Polly's movements. "I didn't hurt you did, I?" she asked her eye trained on Polly's wrists. Her grip had been firm but not overly tight, not enough to bruise normally, but the way Polly was making hell it might just have made her a bit sore.
"I'm fine," Polly responded releasing her wrists. Franky looked over at her a little regretfully and doubtfully. "Really," Polly said trying to reassure Franky. "I shouldn't have smacked you."
"I'm not going to argue with that," Franky replied, smiling softly as Polly shot her an irritated look. "See here," Franky began again sounding a bit more serious. "Maybe you should go," she continued sounding a little disappointed but nothing more. "I'll show you to your quarters since this boat can get confusing if you don't know your way around. Or if you prefer I can send for one of my men," she went on sitting up straighter, putting a little more distance between Polly and herself.
Polly regarded Franky silently for a moment. The officer was giving her a way out, with no recriminations and no demands. She could leave and still maintain a friendly relationship with the other woman should they meet again, or need favors from each other which in both of their lines of work was highly likely. The smart thing to do would've been to accept Franky's offer, allow her to walk to her quarters, and when they arrived in New York casually invite her for coffee sometime before waving and disappearing into the crowd. That would've been the smart thing to do.
"I don't really want to go," was what she said however. "And I think you know that."
"I know … what your body is saying," Franky started carefully. "But I'm not certain that this is what you want," she continued trying very hard not to let her eye wander over the body in question.
"What's my body saying?" Polly asked now openly meeting Franky's gaze. She couldn't really disagree with the other woman's interpretation of events. She knew that she wanted the other woman, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to want her, or that she wanted what wanting her would entail. And yet, there she was.
"You're body's saying that I'm tasty," Franky replied frankly. "And you want a taste," she continued laying it all out, straight up. The time for teasing was over. If she was going to find out if she had a chance with Polly then they were going to have to play it straight – so to speak.
"My body seems to have a way with words," Polly responded swallowing against the wet heat that suffused her body upon hearing Franky's words.
"All it takes is a word from you, and your body can have its way with me as well," Franky stated. She'd felt Polly shift slightly at her previous words, had seen her swallow and could detect a flush colouring her cheeks. However, what Polly did next did surprise her somewhat.
Polly moaned, loudly, as Franky's words washed over her, images of what having her way with the other woman would entail flashing through her brain, lighting it up like a stadium. She bit down, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth and felt her hips rock slightly. She was dampening her panties and Franky hadn't even touched her. If she wasn't so turned on, she would have been embarrassed.
"I don't do this," she felt compelled to say however. She had never been with another woman before, never even kissed one. She wasn't going to lie and say the thought had never crossed her mind, she'd looked, in some cases she'd looked hard. She'd dreamed, and in a lot of cases had dreamed wet. She'd even read a pulp novel or two telling herself it was research. But she never thought, never really that she'd want it to come true … only here she was, and she couldn't think of anything that she wanted more.
"But I'm positive you could do it well," Franky commented finally giving into the urge to touch Polly by placing her hand on her waist and shifting forward, bringing the lower part of their bodies in contact again. She had to fight the urge to moan herself when she felt Polly's hips give a tiny jerk when she touched her.
"But," Polly began as she felt Franky's hand begin to caress her thigh, the words that were about to come out of her mouth dying on her lips at the electric touch. She bit her lip again and pushed herself against Franky even more, brining their upper bodies into contact for the first time. At the feel of Franky's breasts brushing against her own, Polly sucked in a deep breath and let her eyes flutter clothes. Ruined, she was now positive that her panties were absolutely ruined. "No one can know," she finally breathed out leaning into Franky, the words coming out a whisper beside the darker woman's ear. "If it got out it'd ruin me. No more pictures, no more headlines."
"They'd ground me," Franky confided. "Or worse," she went on knowing that they could have her commission if knowledge of what she and Polly were about to do made it to her higher ups. "And I still want you."
Polly's hand came to Franky's cheek, her thumb stroking the smooth skin underneath it as she stared at the other woman. This was it, the moment of truth. She was a woman of her word and if she started something she'd finish it. Whether that meant walking all the way back to her room without a second thought, and pushing Franky down on the floor and raining her face with kisses, when she decided what she was going to do, she was going to do and there'd be no stopping her.