You're written in her book

You're number 37, have a look

She's going to smile to make you frown, what a clown

Little boy, she's from the street

Before you start, you're already beat

She's gonna play you for a fool, yes it's true

~ Femme Fatale, The Velvet Underground

Kalinda's mind wanders, when she gets bored. (Which is fairly often, truth be told. Not many people hold her full attention). Staff meetings are the worst. Her imagination takes over, starts running along its favourite tracks: how she would fuck people, or how she would kill them. Or sometimes - okay, frequently - both.

For Will Gardiner, she'd play sincere. She's excellent at sincere, especially with people who don't know her. Will shouldn't really fall into that category, but he allocates his emotional resources very strictly and the priority goes to those who have immediate, direct impact on his life. That doesn't include her.

Itcould, though. She could have a very immediate, very direct impact if she chose to. It wouldn't be the easiest seduction she's ever undertaken - it'd take some time, effort and creativity to make it look natural - but it wouldn't be the hardest, either. She imagines he'd be reasonably good in bed: diligent is the word that springs to mind. She imagines writing up a performance review afterwards, discussing the finer points of his cunnilingus technique and assigning a grade. Probably a B, she thinks. (The very next morning the whole office get a memo from him about annual reviews, and she has to excuse herself and hide in the restroom until the fit of giggles has passed.)

For his assassination she'd go with a staged home invasion, which would take a lot less effort than the sex. An effective and practical solution. Diligent, you might even say. And profitable, too - he has good taste in his material possessions, she'll give him that, and she knows just where she'd fence the stuff she'd have to steal. Not a bad perk of the job, really.

Sometimes, Kalinda really enjoys her work.

Diane would need a touch of postmodern irony, a knowing wink to acknowledge the ideological overload. (An Employee! A Female Employee! An Asian Female Employee!)

She'd pander to Diane's 'been there, done that' (or at least, thought of being there and doing that) complacency with an appropriately reverent respect, and then she'd draw her gun. Diane has a serious love-hate relationship with firearms, demonstrating some issues with personal power, responsibility and phallic symbols. Kalinda couldn't really care less about Issues - she's always been too busy getting on with whatever it is that needs doing - but it'd be interesting to watch the psychological drama of Diane coping with being on the receiving end of a gun muzzle. (It looks five, ten, twenty times its normal size. Kalinda knows from experience). Diane is all about the fetishization of ideas, but she's rather more shaky on the physical reality.

Kalinda has an excellent poker face, and it'd be interesting to see how Diane would react if she played Homicidal as seriously, and as well, as she can. (She can come up with a plausible motive. You can always find a reason to kill someone if you try hard enough). Would she beg? People do, in extremity - even the ones you think never would.

Kalinda thinks she'd like to see Diane beg.

Beg for her life, or to be thrown down and, for once, thoroughly fucked by someone who really knows what they're doing?

In the purely selfish terms of Kalinda's own pleasure (and aren't you allowed that, in the privacy of your own fantasies?) maybe it wouldn't matter that much either way.

Cary. Oh, Cary. A thousand scenarios spring immediately to mind, all of them embarrassingly easy. Her favourites involve allowing him to think he's out-thought her, to get her where he thinks he wants her, indulging that delicious sense of superiority until he's practically purring with the satisfaction of being oh so smart, and then smiling. Just that - not explaining, not Bond-villaining her evil plans, just smiling. Cary actually reads people quite well - it's one of the reasons for his overconfidence - and she can say a lot with her smile. He'd know. He wouldn't know how, or why, but he'd know that she'd played him. And it would kill him.

Two birds, one stone. She's nothing if not efficient.

Eli Gold would be fun. He's a predator, a ruthless strategist who always has at least three hidden agendas on the go at any given time, and thinks at least five moves ahead without breaking a sweat. She likes that, in a man. She thinks he probably likes it in a woman, too.

All of which means that, counter-intuitively, she'd be able to relax for once. No need to scheme and manipulate - just present a business case as to exactly why and how it would benefit Eli to go along with what she wants. Honesty: a strange but intriguing thought.

He's one of the few she imagines having an actual affair with - an ongoing arrangement, rather than a single conquest. Quickies in locked conference rooms, mid-afternoon 'meetings' held in sleazy motels, maybe even - and oh, this gives her the shivers - snatched moments in Alicia's house, Eli's hand clamped over her mouth and Peter with his nose in paperwork in the next room.

That's the sex. The killing would have to run on very different lines. Back to scheming for that one, and a long game. Long enough to trap him in a deep, complex snare that only has two exits: ruin or suicide.

Long and complex enough to need a lot of mid-afternoon meetings, too.

When she's having a particularly tedious time of it, she works on the hardest of all: Alicia.

She dreads to think how many hours she's put in (if they were billable, she'd be off on a luxury cruise by now) and yet she still hasn't come up with anything she's happy with.

Revenge against Peter won't work. The temptation of forbidden fruit won't work. Your-husband-doesn't-understand-you won't work, no matter how true it is. I-am-the-best-you'll-ever-have won't work, no matter how true that is. Threats and blackmail won't work, begging won't work. Alcohol won't work. Rohypnol might, but that's just cheating.

The really frustrating part is that Alicia does actually want her. So many signs and tells - the wistful, speculative looks when she thinks Kalinda can't see, the snatched glances, the blushes, the shivers when their hands brush, the electricity that snaps between them whenever they get too close. And for each one, there's a partnering sign that says, as clear as day, no: I can't let this happen.

Alicia's good at many things, but taking what she wants isn't one of them.

Would it be cheating to kill Peter? Maybe if Kalinda views them as a couple, a single unit, she can split the sex and death between them. Peter Florrick leaves her pretty cold, so that works for her. Kill Peter, comfort Alicia. Be a friend. Supportive, reliable, affectionate.

It's a possibility. A definite possibility.

Kalinda wonders how many people might want Peter Florrick dead, and how many might be interested in paying to make that happen.

Something to think about, next time there's a particularly boring staff meeting.