Before we go any further into this, let me remind you kind folks that these characters belong to Fox and Hart Hanson and other more important people than myself.

Having said that, I am also not taking credit for the idea behind this story. I was reading Goldpiece's "Alphabet Soup" chapter 7 titled "Gyrating" when I was struck with inspiration. With her permission (and a wonderful beta job also), I've picked up from the end of her story for this one. If you haven't read that particular story, I strongly recommend you go do that before you start this one or you might be a little lost. After you've read her story, be sure to leave her a nice review and tell her thank you for allowing me the privilege of running with the idea.

Okay, enough of my rambling...on with the story.

Brennan sighed as she glanced at her bedside clock. It was after three a.m. and she was still restless. Angela had dropped her off at her apartment shortly after midnight after their night out, but in spite of the alcohol she had consumed, sleep still eluded her.

She rolled to her back and closed her eyes, allowing her mind to replay the events of the evening once again. Angela had insisted that she go out with her tonight, not bothering to tell her where they were going. By the time Brennan had realized they were at a male strip club, it was too late to back out. Besides, Angela had been right when she'd accused her of moping around while Booth was on an undisclosed undercover assignment. It was time to loosen up and enjoy herself. If for no other reason than to prove to herself that she remembered how to have a social life that didn't involve Seeley Booth.

Once she'd made the decision to relax, she found herself intrigued by her surroundings. She made a comment to Angela about the anthropological observations to be made, but her attention had quickly been diverted to the men on stage. As if drawn by a magnet, her gaze had settled on one of the dancers in the back row. She was acutely aware that he was very well structured, but there was something else that kept her gaze trained on him, a familiarity that she couldn't quite pinpoint. Angela had distracted her for a moment, pointing out one of the other dancers, but her eyes quickly returned to the dark-haired man with the amazing chest. And then she'd gotten a good look at that amazing chest and things had taken a rather surreal turn from there.

As she replayed the scene in her mind, her lips still tingled from where he had kissed her. Her fingers itched to touch him take the same erotic trail along his hard body, to slip inside the somewhat ridiculous, yet incredibly sexy, black thong he'd been wearing, to feel his muscles clench as her hands glided back up his chest. With her eyes closed, she imagined that she could still feel him pressed against her ass, his hands blazing fire as they trailed along her sides, just barely caressing the sides of her breasts through her blouse.

When a soft groan escaped her lips, she forced her thoughts away from her sexy partner and sat up in the bed. She knew why she was so restless...she was still incredibly aroused. Those few stolen moments on that stage had opened a floodgate that she had no idea how to close. Before his undercover assignment, they had been steadily moving towards something more in their relationship. Not that either one of them had tried to define what that "more" was, they had just both seemed to be on the same page.

Now it had been almost three months without any contact from him and she was honest enough, at least with herself, to admit that she truly missed him. Yes, she missed the field work, and the opportunity to get out of the lab on a regular basis, but it was more than just the work that she missed. It was the friendship.

With another sigh, she reached for her laptop and pulled it onto the bed. If she wasn't going to sleep, she might as well be productive and work on her latest novel. It was almost finished anyway, and she was easily six months ahead of her deadline. As she powered up her computer, she briefly wondered if her publisher had arranged for Booth's undercover assignment for the express purpose of motivating her to spend more time writing. The thought was ridiculous she knew, but so was the thought of buying the night club she'd been at earlier for the express purpose of getting Booth back in her life, and she had spent a good thirty minutes contemplating the pros and cons of that one.

She opened the word processor and began typing, briefly considering having Andy seduce Kathy wearing a black thong and doing a striptease. She discarded the idea quickly, knowing that writing that scene would do nothing to appease her own frustration at the moment. Instead she delved back into the plot of the story, fleshing out the final twist that would bring the killer to justice and hoping that Booth would have as much luck on his case as Kathy and Andy were in her book.


Booth leaned his head against the shower wall and let the hot water soothe the tension in his shoulders. Of all of the nightclubs in D.C., Angela would have to pick the one he was working in to drag Bones to. He closed his eyes as he replayed the scene in his head. They had been standing backstage preparing for their performance when one of the guys had pointed out the two "really hot chicks" sitting at a front table. It was a nightly ritual they went through, deciding which woman to pull up on the stage and which dancer would go solo with her. He usually paid minimal attention, letting the rest of them make the decisions and earn the extra tips that came along with a solo performance. However, when his gaze had landed on his partner, he knew it called for drastic measures. The thought of one of the other guys touching her was enough to make his blood boil.

"She's mine," he stated firmly. The rest of them turned to look at him and he merely raised an eyebrow, daring any of them to challenge him.

"It's about time you decided to fly solo, Baker," one of the guys teased him.

His gaze had drifted back to Bones and he'd merely shrugged. "Just takes a special woman to inspire me."

"She is definitely a looker," one of them added. "So is her friend."

Booth had barely spared a glance in Angela's direction, his eyes were glued to Bones.

"Let's go, guys," their manager called out. "You're on in two minutes."

Booth allowed his gaze to trail down her body once more before he turned away and took his place with the other dancers. She looked thinner than usual, but she also looked better than he remembered. God, he missed her.

Their dance number had started as usual, and he knew that the lighting would keep his face in shadow which allowed him to watch Bones as she watched them perform. He felt her gaze on him almost immediately and as soon as he removed his shirt, he saw the flicker of recognition dawn on her face. One of the other dancers led her onto the stage then and he moved into position, straddling her lap, grinding against her, forcing his body to not react to her nearness. He had used the position to talk to her, but he had to keep up pretenses so he had stripped off his pants and stood in front of her wearing nothing but a thong. He could feel her pulse racing under his hands as he stood in front of her, guiding her hands down his body. He felt her sharp intake of breath when he slid her small hands into the front of his thong and it had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to not get aroused as he slowly guided her hands back up his chest.

When he had moved behind her and pressed his hips into her, he knew he was in trouble. She was so soft and warm against him, her silky hair tickling his chest where it rested, her heartbeat matching his at the intensity of the moment. Unable to resist, he'd trailed his hands up her sides, caressing the sides of her breasts, feeling her reaction in the shift of her hips that brought them even closer. As much as he wanted to slide his hands over to cup her soft mounds, to feel her nipples harden under his hands, he forced his hands back down her arms. Instead, he'd lowered his mouth to her neck, his lips gliding along the smooth skin until he finally reached her lips. It had nearly been his undoing.

With strength he hadn't known he'd possessed, he'd managed to step away from her. Another dancer had led her back to her seat, but her eyes had remained glued to his. Even when Angela wrapped an arm around her shoulder and whispered something in her ear, Bones had held his gaze. As their number came to a close, he saw a smile playing on her lips and he knew that he had to end this case...and soon.

He lifted his head from the wall and reached for the shampoo. Eleven weeks he had been on this case. Eleven weeks with no contact from anyone in his life other than his handler at the FBI. Eleven weeks of wondering what she was doing, if she missed him, if she still smelled as wonderful as he remembered. It was slowly driving him insane. He leaned his head under the spray to rinse the shampoo from his hair and once again allowed his thoughts to drift to Bones. He could still feel the heat from where her hands had been on his body. He could still hear her gasp of breath when he had dipped her hands under the waistband of his thong. It had felt so good to be pressed up against her ass, to feel her pressing back into him, to taste the flavor of her skin. Just thinking about it now was making him hard. He briefly considered taking care of the problem himself, but he didn't just want the physical release. He wanted the intimacy of being with her.

He reached for the bar of soap and made quick work of lathering himself up as he forced his mind away from thoughts of his partner naked underneath him, screaming out his name as he drove her over the edge. If he'd known that this case was going to last this long when he'd agreed to it, he would've made sure that things were more settled between them before he'd left. As it was, he was giving serious consideration to chucking all of the rules and seeing her again anyway. Heck, it wouldn't surprise him if she became a regular at their performances. He knew that if their positions were reversed, he would be.

An idea began to form in his mind and he quickly rinsed the soap from his body. There just might be a way to make contact with her that would keep his cover intact and nobody at the FBI would be the wiser. With lightness to his step that he hadn't felt in weeks, he stepped out of the shower and quickly dried off. He reached for an old pair of jeans and a plain, gray t-shirt and then pulled a Yankees baseball cap on his head, making sure to pull it far enough down to put his face in shadows.


The ringing of her cell phone roused Brennan from a very erotic dream about her partner. She was somewhat disoriented as she sat up in bed in search of the offending item. Her laptop still sat open in the middle of her bed and her sheets were tangled about her legs, making moving somewhat difficult. Finally locating her phone behind her laptop, she snatched it up and checked the caller i.d. The number wasn't familiar and she considered ignoring it when she noticed that it wasn't yet five a.m., but the hope that it might be news about her partner had her pressing the answer button and lifting the phone to her ear.


"Meet me in one hour at Rock Creek Park," Booth stated firmly. "Where we picnicked with Parker. Bring a jacket and leave your phone in your car."

"I'll be there."

As quickly as it had started, the call was finished and Brennan sat there numbly for a full thirty seconds while she processed what had just happened. Booth had called her. After eleven weeks, he had finally made contact with her. Not only that, but he wanted to meet with her.

A smile spread across her face and she sat her phone aside as she reached for her laptop. After making sure that she had saved her work before dozing off, she turned the computer off and moved it to her bedside table. Once that was finished, she hurried to her closet to grab some clothes before heading to the shower.


Brennan stood just off the trail near one of the picnic areas in Rock Creek Park. She was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt and had a light jacket draped over her arm. It wasn't yet six a.m. but the air was already fairly warm for mid-summer. She leaned against a tree, keeping her eyes opened for any sign of Booth. As she waited for him to make his appearance, she allowed her mind to drift back to the last time they had been to the park together. It was a couple of weeks before his undercover assignment had started and he and Parker had invited her to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon with them. Unable to resist either one of the Booth men, she had agreed and they had finally decided on a picnic in the park. It had been a beautiful spring day and she had enjoyed spending time with both of them, especially hearing their laughter as Booth had pushed Parker on the swing.

The sound of an engine brought her from her musings and she looked down the trail to see a motorcycle approaching her position. She tensed for a moment before she recognized her partner's familiar build and as he drew closer, she could see his easy grin under the helmet he had on his head. She slid her jacket on and zipped it up and by the time he reached her side, she was ready to climb on behind him.

As soon as she had donned the helmet he gave her, he turned the bike around and headed back down the trail and she wrapped her arms around his waist. As he maneuvered them through the quiet streets of the city, she turned her head slightly and rested her head between his shoulder blades. It felt so good to hold him like that, to feel his hard body against hers, that she couldn't help but squeeze her arms around him in a brief hug. He responded by reaching up to squeeze her hands where they rested against his stomach before returning his attention to the road.

As they left D.C. and headed south, she realized that she honestly didn't care where they were going. She was content just to be with him. Surprised by the revelation, she didn't even notice that her hands were tracing idle patterns on his stomach until he once again reached up and covered her hands with one of his. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder and smiled at her and she couldn't help but return it. She was mildly embarrassed at the fact she had been absent-mindedly caressing her partner's stomach, but even more so that she hadn't noticed the twitch in his muscles as her hands had moved over him.

As their speed slowly decreased, she noticed that they were moving from the main roads onto smaller, country roads and she got the distinct impression that they were nearing their destination. After a few more minutes, Booth turned the motorcycle onto a well-worn path and easily maneuvered them deeper into the densely wooded area. When they came to a clearing, he brought the bike to a stop and turned off the ignition.

She dismounted the bike and removed her helmet while he engaged the kickstand. He pulled off his own helmet and secured them both to the bike before he climbed off of it. As soon as he was clear of the bike, she found herself wrapped in his embrace, his arms pulling her body tight against his as he buried his head in her shoulder.

"I've missed you," he whispered as his hands trailed up and down her back.

"I've missed you, too," she admitted as she breathed in his scent.

They stood like that for several long minutes before Booth finally leaned back to look at her. "Should I apologize for last night?"

"Only if you have no intentions of following up on it," she replied as she met his gaze.

He smiled then and slowly leaned down to brush his lips against hers. He intended for it to be a soft kiss, but she had other ideas. As soon as his lips touched hers, her hands were on the back of his head, pulling him closer, opening her lips to him to deepen the kiss. It felt like a match to dry tinder and before either one of them realized what was happening, their jackets had been haphazardly discarded on the ground and their hands had found their way under t-shirts, coming in contact with smooth skin.

"You feel so good, Booth," she whispered as she trailed kisses down his jaw to his neck.

The sound of his name on her lips brought him crashing back to reality and he slowly smoothed his hands down her back, letting his lips find hers once again and gently easing back the intensity of their kisses. He brought his hands up to cup her face as he kissed her one last time before gently easing out of her embrace. "We have to talk, Bones."

"I know," she agreed as she reached up to cover his hands where they rested against her face. "It just feels so good to touch you."

"I know what you mean," he agreed as he trailed a finger across her face. "I thought I might be hallucinating last night when I first saw you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation of his caress on her heated skin. The passion was there, just below the surface. It would be so easy to just give in to it. Instead, she took a deep breath and stepped away from him. She couldn't think clearly when he was touching her.

"What can you tell me?" she asked.

"Perhaps I should introduce myself," he offered as he led her to a downed tree and motioned for her to sit down. "My name is Steven Baker. I'm one of the newest dancers at the 'Garden of Eden' nightclub."

"I already knew that part," she replied with a sexy smile. "I checked you out last night before I left. What I don't know is why you're undercover as a male stripper and how much longer I have to wait to get you back as my partner."

"This assignment was only supposed to last for a month," he told her as he sat down next to her. "There is a rather large male prostitution and drug ring being run out of the club. At least, that's the information we've gotten. So far, I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary. My handler seems to think that the last agent they had undercover got made and so things have quieted down while the dust settles."

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I think I'm tired of horny women stuffing money down my g-string while they try to cop a feel," he replied with a snort.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before she replied. "If memory serves me correctly, you were the one who initiated the copping a feel last night."

His eyes shot up to hers and he could see the glimmer of amusement in her blue depths. "That was different."

"How so?"

He started to say something, then stopped and averted his eyes from hers. She reached out a hand and cupped his chin, gently guiding his face back to hers. "How so?" she repeated.

"Because I wanted you to touch me," he admitted. "I didn't care if the whole damn world was watching. I wanted to feel your hands on my body. And I needed to touch you, to feel your pulse racing beneath your skin. I needed to feel alive again."

She smiled at his admission and then leaned forward and brushed her lips against his briefly. When they pulled apart, she told him of her plan in the early hours of the morning. "Once I left the club last night, I thought about going back and offering to buy the place."

His jaw dropped at that. "Are you serious?"

"I debated the pros and cons of it for over thirty minutes," she assured him. "Unfortunately, the only pros that I actually came up with were getting you away from this assignment and back where you belong. Heck, I even gave serious consideration to Angela's idea of asking the manager if I could buy your time for a private show."

When he just stared at her, she shrugged her shoulders and added, "You're not the only one who felt more alive in those five minutes last night than they have in the last eleven weeks."

He rewarded her confession with another kiss, his lips lingering on hers as his tongue darted out to tease hers. He was smiling when they finally pulled apart. "So other than buying the nightclub and forcing my assignment to an end, do you have any other brilliant ideas?"

"I was hoping you did," she replied. "After all, you're the one who called me. Remember?"

He nodded as he got to his feet and walked over to the motorcycle. He opened one of bags on the side and pulled out two cell phones before walking back to sit beside her. "I want you to take this phone with you."

"I already have a cell phone," she said as she took the phone from him.

"I know. But I bought these early this morning for the express purpose of being able to stay in contact with you. They're disposable phones, no contracts, no names, practically untraceable. And I paid cash for them, so we should be okay to call each other on them. The FBI is keeping pretty close tabs on me while I'm undercover, and I'm not supposed to have any contact with people I know to keep the risk of my cover being blown to a minimum. It wouldn't surprise me if they were keeping tabs on you, too. I borrowed the bike from one of the other dancers because they've got a homing device on my car."

"That's why you told me to leave my phone in my car this morning? The GPS signal?"

He nodded as he looked at her. "I know I'm breaking all the rules here, but I just couldn't stay away any longer. Especially after last night. God, Bones, you have no idea how hard it was to walk away from you last night."

"Actually, I think I do," she replied. "Angela had to practically drag me out of the club to get me to leave."

"You shouldn't come back," he said. "If there is something going on, it could be dangerous for you to be there."

"I think you're more concerned that I might hurt one of your women when they try to cop a feel," she teased.

"I don't have 'women', Bones. I have a 'woman.' Singular. As in only one." At her surprised look, he quickly added, "At least, I hope I do."

"You do," she assured him. "We just need to figure out how to catch a break so we can get back to our lives."

He glanced down at the time on the cell phone and gave a frustrated sigh. "We should head back. I've got another show tonight and should probably get some sleep beforehand."

She reached for his hand and laced their fingers together before resting her head on his shoulder. "Thank you, Booth. I know you took a big risk to see me today."

He brushed a kiss against her hair and then rested his cheek atop her head. "It was bigger risk for me to stay away."

"I'll help you however I can. You know that."

"I know. I already feel better for just having talked to you."

They sat there in silence for several minutes before Booth finally stood up, pulling her to her feet beside him. "I don't know when I'll be able to see you again."

"At least I know where you are now," she offered. "And I know you're okay."

His eyes traveled the length of her body as his hands settled on her waist. When his eyes met hers, he shook his head. "You haven't been taking care of yourself."

She started to deny it, but at the tenderness in his gaze, she shrugged. "I've been moping."

"Stop doing that," he told her. "Take care of yourself and quit spending all of your time at work. Go out with Angela and spend your weekends enjoying the outdoors. Go watch one of Parker's games for me and tell him that I'm proud of him and I can't wait to see him again."

She blinked back sudden tears as she reached for him, pulling him into a hug. "I miss you, Booth."

"I know, Bones. I know."

He held her tightly against him for a long minute before tilting her face up to his for another kiss. He trailed his lips along her cheeks, tasting the salt of her tears before dipping back to her lips. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, his tongue trailing along it, memorizing the feel of her in his arms and the taste of her lips against his. They were both breathless when they finally broke apart and he led her silently back to the motorcycle for their trip back.

She spent the ride home trailing her hands along his stomach and sides, learning the feel of his muscles beneath his shirt, feeling his heartbeat strong beneath her cheek where it rested on his back. When they reached the trail where they'd met earlier that day, he brought the motorcycle to a stop. She slowly dismounted from behind him and started to walk away from him. His hand on her arm stopped her and she turned to face him. He gave a gentle tug and she went willingly into his arms for another hard kiss that was over way too soon for her liking. She had barely regained her balance when she watched him ride away from her.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to turn around and walk back to her car. They would find a way to break this case open. She was sure of it. They had to.


Now if you would be so kind as to drop me a note and let me know what you think, I would appreciate it. And I was serious about leaving Goldpiece a thank-you note. :-)