Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to "The Closer". No copyright infringement intended.
Fandom: The Closer
Summary: Brenda and Sharon are stuck together in a remote village while on an assignment. The only way is to spend the night in a motel room. Sparks fly…and ignite.
Which Side Do You Sleep On, Captain Raydor?
A "The Closer" Brenda/Sharon fan fiction
By Gun Brooke
"This is ridiculous," Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson huffed and hit the steering wheel with her fists. "The road is closed? There's no way we can get back to L.A. this way!" She glared at her companion in the passenger seat.
"That would be my conclusion also," Captain Sharon Raydor said in that infuriatingly superior voice of hers. "I don't see the benefit of yelling and abusing the interior of the car—"
"It keeps me from ripping someone's head off!" Brenda tried to reel her temper in, but sitting next to Raydor, the very reason they were in this mess, was infuriating. "Honestly, Captain, if FID hadn't prolonged this investigation, we wouldn't be in this—this maddening situation."
"FID only follows the law and what the regulation—"
"If you say the word regulation one more time, I swear I'll scream." Brenda unbuckled the seatbelt and rubbed at her aching neck muscles. "Just because Lt. Provenza fired his weapon and the bullet grazed a civilian, who is a known gang member, by the way, you have us all running this gauntlet when we should be closing the case."
"If you did, you'd soon have this gang member out on the streets, causing more havoc and killing people. You know I'm right, Chief. If you don't follow protocol, he'll walk on a technicality." Raydor crossed her arms over her chest, looking annoyingly unruffled after a whole day driving from one address to another until they were at the very edge of their jurisdiction. And now an accident involving not just one, but two overturned tractor-trailer trucks carrying hazardous materials blocked the only road home. "Surely the GPS can figure an alternative route?"
"The only alternative is driving this late along gravel roads." Raydor shrugged. "I'd rather go to a motel and count on the local fire department to clear this mess by tomorrow."
"A motel." Brenda thudded her forehead against the steering wheel, immediately wishing she hadn't as it hurt. "Ow."
"Chief Johnson. Please. Let's go back to the village we just passed. I saw a sign for a motel as we drove through it."
"I have no intention of spending the night at some sleazy motel in the middle of nowhere."
Raydor looked at her out of the corner of her eye. "You would rather drive on a unfamiliar gravel road that is barely recognized by the GPS?"
Ah, there was that. Brenda chewed on the inside of her cheek. "I have to be home tomorrow. Fritz is coming to pick up his… I mean… I have to be home tomorrow." Fritz had moved out four months ago and was finally getting settled in his new condo and was fetching his last belonging. As amicable as their divorce had been, it still hurt. Failure hurt. And Brenda hated failure as much as she loathed pain.
"I'm sure we'll be able to be home in time for you to meet up with Agent Howard."
"It's not like we are actually meeting. He's picking up his stuff."
"I never did get to tell you personally how sorry I was to hear about the divorce."
"Thank you," Brenda said curtly. So Raydor was sorry. Huh. "It's old news by now."
"I found that after half a year or so that the feeling of loneliness abated."
Raydor was divorced. Well, of course, Brenda knew she had children, grown children, and had surmised that she wasn't married—at least not anymore. But to hear Raydor say up front that she was divorced and be all personal like this? Hm.
"All right. I'm turning around." Brenda pulled out of the long line of optimistic drivers who were hoping to pass the site of the accident. Turning into the opposite lane, she drove back toward the village. "Did it look reasonably decent?"
"What did—oh, the motel? Yes. It looked fine."
"I swear, if the man running it looks even remotely like Norman Bates, I'll arrest him on the spot."
"Chief, you do realize that Norman Bates is a character in a movie?" Raydor sounded both exasperated and incredulous.
"Of course I do. Are you really arguing that you've never come across people even sicker than Norman Bates during your career?" Brenda wasn't sure why she had to keep disagreeing with the woman in her passenger seat. Raydor had rubbed her the wrong way since day one when she'd stepped all over Brenda's crime scene, claiming that she, as an FID captain, should and would go first.
There had been very few cases involving FID where she and Raydor hadn't disagreed, fought, or argued. Only lately, after Brenda's divorce, she suddenly realized, had Raydor mellowed a bit. Or maybe Brenda was losing her touch. She usually pissed off at least three people per day. She was pretty sure it wasn't up to that number lately.
"Over there, on the left." Raydor pointed.
Brenda was relieved to find the motel did not appear to be some ghostly place where you could expect vibrating beds, porn channels, and red velvet walls. What didn't look so promising though was the number of cars outside the rooms. She parked and jumped out of the car and so did Raydor, looking annoyingly un-wrinkled. Her black Armani suit fit her perfectly, as did her three inch pumps. Brenda's stomach clenched as she smoothed her pink sweater down over her hips. She always felt even less elegant than usual next to Raydor.
In the office, the man behind the counter actually backed up when faced with Brenda's annoyance.
"We've had at least twenty guests arrive in an hour and several others have booked rooms and are on their way. I can't help that we have only one vacancy!" He held up his hands, palms toward Brenda.
"Surely if you check, you can scare up one measly little room?" Brenda put her palms on the desk and leaned toward the startled man. "Look again."
"It won't do any good. And if you don't take this room, that will be gone soon via hotels dot com."
"We'll take it," Raydor said quickly and slammed her credit card onto the desk before Brenda could protest. "One night, please."
"Yes, ma'am." The man glowered at Brenda as he punched in Raydor's information with unsteady fingers. "Room 123. At the far end of the left wing."
"Thank you," Raydor said politely. "Come on, Chief. Time to call it quits for today." She turned to the motel manager. "Do you have a convenience store?"
"It's closed this late—" The man's eyes grew big at Brenda's scowl and he then changed his mind. "But I can open it for you. What do you need?"
"Just some toothbrushes and some toothpaste."
"Give me a second. I'll get that for you. On the house." He returned in thirty seconds with several useful bathroom items.
Anything to get rid of her, no doubt, Brenda thought with an evil smile. The man returned it nervously. Raydor shook her head and opened the door for Brenda. They parked the car outside door 123 and Brenda waited impatiently for Raydor to unlock it.
As it turned out, the room was nice and clean. A perfect room, really, if it hadn't been to one, big, glaring downside. A bed. A queen-size bed.
"Oh, my." Raydor put her purse and briefcase down on the dresser.
"Is that all you have to say? It's bad enough to have to share a room," Brenda said, furious and flustered at the thought of sharing a bed with Raydor. "This is ridiculous."
"It's a bed and, I don't know about you, but I'm going to rinse off and then sleep in it."
"In what?" Brenda said, stomping her foot.
"In the bed, Chief."
Oh, that woman! So infuriating it was making Brenda's pulse race. "I mean, sleep in what? Or do you have a nightgown in that briefcase of yours?"
"Ah." Raydor smirked. "No, of course not. If you're worried that I'll be sleeping in the nude, I can assure you that I only do that when it's appropriate."
"That's—that's a relief." Brenda knew she was blushing. "If you don't mind, I'll use the bathroom first. I'm hot and cranky, not to mention, starving."
"All right. I'll call and see if some place around here delivers food." Shrugging, Raydor turned toward the phone on the nightstand. "Anything you absolutely don't eat, Chief?"
Brenda would have killed for a pizza, but was ready to eat just about anything. "Just none of that raw fish looking dead on top of rice, Captain."
Raydor's hand flew to her lips. Brenda had a sneaking suspicion this was to avoid openly laughing at a superior officer. Huffing, she grabbed the toiletries and went into the bathroom. She spent the first minute staring at herself in the mirror. What on earth was she going to do now? She hated the idea of putting on unclean underwear after showering. Pulling off her jacket and skirt, she hung them on the hook on the door. She was wearing a thin camisole that reached to her mid-thigh and she removed that as well, sniffing it hesitantly. Actually, it smelled fine. Tapping her lips, she made her decision. Moving fast, Brenda rinsed her lace bra and panties in the sink, using some of the shampoo. She hung them to dry on the edge of the shelf holding the white terrycloth bath-towels.
After a quick shower—she didn't want Raydor to start banging on the door—she pulled the camisole back on and regarded herself from all angles. It covered what it needed to cover. She walked back into the room, where Raydor sat working on something at her laptop. God, did the woman never let up?
"You can use the shower now, Captain," Brenda said and sat down on the bed, tugging self-consciously at the camisole. She felt exposed.
"Thank you." Raydor didn't move, but stared glumly at her computer. "Food's on the way, if you can call it that."
"What? What did you order?" Brenda prayed it wasn't sushi after all.
"The only takeaway food available in this place at this hour is from an all-night pretzel store."
"Oh! Pretzels. Thank goodness." Brenda was quite pleased for the first time since they realized they were better of spending the night in the village. "I like pretzels."
"You like chocolate and candy too. Maybe I should have just emptied the vending machine in the manager's office." Raydor pursed her lips. "The pretzel man was ever so cordial. He is delivering in fifteen minutes. I guess I should shower before he gets here."
"Yes, do that." Brenda sighed. "Let's both be in our underwear when a strange man knocks on the door."
"Don't worry, Chief." Raydor smiled sweetly. "We'll be in our underwear and armed."
Brenda had to smile at that. Something about the vision of Raydor dressed similarly to Brenda with a gun harness on top of the camisole was actually quite…attractive. Sexy, even. She tried forcing the image from her mind, but Raydor chose that moment to close her laptop and get up. She passed Brenda and disappeared into the bathroom.
Brenda started feeling cold. The motel room was well air conditioned, for sure. Her arms and legs erupted in goose bumps and her nipples were already rock hard. She gazed around her; the only thing looking like it might be warm enough was the bedspread. Wrapping it around her, she reached for the remote and switched on the television. She found the local news station, hoping they might cover the HAZMAT situation on the larger road.
It seemed to take Raydor only a few minutes to rejoin Brenda and when she did her presence sucked all the oxygen from the room. Brenda stared at the revelation that was Sharon Raydor as she exited the bathroom dressed in what looked like only her still crisp-looking white button down shirt.
"The pretzels here yet?" Raydor asked and glanced at the table. "Clearly not." She eyed Brenda. "Care to share the blanket in the meantime, Chief Johnson?"
"It's a bedspread," Brenda said, just to have something to say as tried to figure out a way to say no without being rude. She glanced around the room. No more blankets or anything to keep Captain Raydor warm. Damn it! "No, of course not. Come here. Once he's been here, we can hop into bed and have our pretzels."
"Eat in bed?" Raydor sat down next to her.
Brenda awkwardly wrapped the bedspread around Raydor's shoulders, which placed the captain. She hurriedly pulled her hands back and tried to ignore the heat from Raydor's body. Raydor's body. Brenda's mind seemed to be caught in a loop. Raydor's legs, long, lean, and toned, were still partially visible where they peeked out from the bedspread.
"This wasn't very smart, was it, Captain?" Brenda crossed her legs. "I mean, one of us should've waited to shower before the pretzel man showed up." Her words had barely left her lips when there was a knock at the door.
"Allow me." Raydor got up again and walked over to the door. She peered through the peephole and then opened it ten inches. "Thank you very much. Yes. Already paid for, and I added your tip over the phone. Thank you." She pulled her hand back, now holding onto a white bag with red letters spelling out "Pierre's Pretzels" and closed the door.
"Oh, excellent," Brenda said and grinned. "Did you get something to drink as well?"
"I ordered some portion sized cartons of orange juice."
Brenda's face fell. "Orange juice? Not coffee?"
Raydor raised her eyebrows. "Coffee? This late in the evening?"
"I drink coffee any time of day." Folding her arms across her chest, Brenda scowled.
"That explains so much," Raydor said, shaking her head.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Let me get the bed made again so we can get comfortable." Brenda tucked the bedspread back around the bed, mindful not to bend over too far. She was about to climb in when she thought of something. Frowning, she turned to her companion. "Now, which side do you sleep on, Captain Raydor?"
Tilting her head as she studied her superior officer, Raydor pursed her lips. "I have been divorced long enough to have reclaimed the center of the bed. In other words, you pick your favorite side. I'll adapt."
"Very well. Thank you. I sleep on the right." Brenda stopped moving her hands. "I don't think being separated for four months has had any impact on my bedtime routine." She gave a wobbly smile.
"I suppose not."
They both climbed into bed, the bag of Pierre's Pretzels between them and their orange juice cartons on the nightstands. Brenda dove into the bag and pulled out a large, fragrant, salt sprinkled pretzel, which had to be just about the prettiest one she'd ever seen. "Good lord, it even has Pierre embossed on it."
"Look at that." Somehow Raydor didn't sound impressed as she bit into the bread. Then her face transformed and she looked quite astonished. "Not too bad, actually."
"Not too bad?" Brenda smiled broadly and then took a bite of her own. "Mm," she said around the mouthful. "Mm-hm-hm-hm."
Raydor's eyes grew big behind her black rimmed glasses. She seemed focused on Brenda's lips, then her gaze travelled down as Brenda swallowed the piece of pretzel.
"Something wrong, Captain?" Brenda frowned. What could Raydor be thinking when her glance turned positively sultry? This had happened a lot lately, and Brenda had chalked it up to the fact that they weren't exactly friends, or didn't exactly like each other. Exactly.
Raydor wet her lips and that quick appearance of the tip of her tongue took Brenda's breath away. "N-nothing." She looked angry, suddenly, but somehow Brenda didn't think it was directed at her. No doubt Raydor didn't like the fact that she stuttered and lost her cool just a little bit.
"Okay, then." Brenda finished off two large pretzels and reached for her juice carton. She hadn't used one of these since she was a young girl and found it rather difficult with the attached straw that needed to pierce the tiny foil. What the hell was that made of anyway? Titanium. She pushed and pushed, muttering under her breath, until a slender hand took it from her. Raydor smirked, for the millionth time it seemed, and pierced the foil with a decisive pop of the straw. Ah, so the pointy end went into the carton. Ha. Too bad the damn thing didn't come with instructions, Brenda told herself, completely disregarding the fact that she never read instructions anyway.
"Thank you, Captain," Brenda said and accepted the juice carton back. Unfortunately she squeezed it too hard as she bent to drink, spraying her lips with the juice.
"Oh! Damn it!" Brenda grabbed a paper napkin from the bag still on the bed and dabbed her chin and neck. "What a positively idiotic invention."
"Not entirely." Raydor extended her hand and wiped a drop of juice from Brenda's lower lip.
Completely dumbfounded and out of breath, Brenda just stared at Raydor. Raydor returned her gaze calmly and licked the juice from her thumb. Oh, that woman!
"I have to brush my teeth." Brenda got out of bed and tugged at her camisole with her free hand, bringing the juice with her into the bathroom. There she took out the straw, tossed it in the bin and proceeded to suck the juice from the carton, just like when she was a little girl. She never had been able to get the straw into the carton properly.
After brushing her teeth, Brenda returned to the room where Raydor had turned off all the lights except the ones on their respective nightstands. She rose and passed Brenda without a word and entered the bathroom.
Brenda climbed into bed and sighed as the TV was also turned off. She often went to sleep with a talk show host muttering in the background, like white noise keeping every other sound away. Now the room was eerily quiet. Perhaps Raydor was the type that needed dead quiet and a sleep mask to be able to sleep. God.
Raydor returned, smelling of Colgate. She got back into bed and turned off the light on her side of the bed. Brenda sighed; clearly they weren't going to have the TV on. Unless…
"Mind if I catch the last news?"
"What? On TV—now?" Sharon pushed up on her elbow, her eyebrows raised.
"Um. I suppose, it's not necessary." Pouting, Brenda lay down and turned off her light. Curling up, she pulled at the covers to tuck them around her.
"Do you mind? I need some of the covers on my side." Raydor spoke curtly.
"Well, Captain, so do I."
"Are you saying you're cold?"
"A little." Brenda sighed. This was a ridiculous situation. She wished she'd never listened to Raydor. When had that woman ever had a good idea?
"Chief. Brenda? I can turn down the air conditioning a little—"
"No, no, that's fine." Brenda did her best to sound casual and merry. A typical Southern trait. Do not show any weakness. "I've clearly gotten out of the habit of sharing a bed, Captain."
Brenda hesitated. "Sharon." She had never allowed herself to say Raydor's first name like that. It was so personal. As if it brought the other woman too close. And too close seemed… dangerous, somehow.
"Why don't you just lie down and relax, Brenda. It's late." Sharon turned on her side, still facing Brenda.
Slowly lying down, Brenda pulled the covers up over her exposed shoulder. "I'll never be able to sleep," she muttered.
"If you trust me, I can help." Sharon shifted. Was she getting closer?
Brenda's breath hitched. "What do you mean?"
So self-conscious it was ridiculous, Brenda turned her back on Sharon. A sudden arm around her waist made her jump and go rigid. "Just relax. You'll feel warmer in a minute." Sharon's voice purred in her ear.
Brenda wasn't convinced. Then Sharon shocked her by sliding right up, spooning Brenda. "See? Sharing body heat is a known survival technique. Clearly it works on shivering chiefs in the field as well."
Sharon's body was hot. Brenda had to concede that. Then she realized that, as Sharon was touching every part on the back of her body from her neck to her feet, the risk of the camisole riding up was huge. Brenda didn't dare move. If she did, her naked derriere would be pressed up against Sharon's…Sharon's… Oh, that woman! Brenda's heart thundered and she could feel the start of a moan build when Sharon moved subtly behind her. Firm, full breasts pressed into her back, their hard nipples clearly noticeable. This sent a heatwave down Brenda's stomach and in between her legs. What was this? What was going on? Why was she responding this way?
Sharon's hand rested on Brenda's stomach, where it made slow, soothing circular movements. It was probably meant to calm her down, but instead it fueled her arousal and made her sweat. Brenda prayed that Sharon wouldn't notice.
"Does this feel good?" Sharon asked in a low voice.
"Sh…sure." Oh, God, it felt heavenly. Sharon's soft curves, how could the very fit woman feel so supple against her? Brenda was getting warmer, no hotter, and so fast, Sharon had to feel it.
"There. Much better. Isn't it, Brenda Leigh?"
Sharon saying her name like that sent tremors down Brenda's spine. She couldn't help but squirm. Blushing at her own reaction, Brenda pressed her clenched hand against her lips.
Sharon sighed and moved her hand to Brenda's hip. Oh, God, her very naked hip. Trembling, Brenda hoped the camisole had not become bunched up completely. Sharon shifted behind her, sliding one leg forward a bit, which made her hand slip, ending up inside the camisole against Brenda's stomach. It had to be an accident, didn't it? Sharon was being nice, warming her, but then again, there were all those sultry looks. All those times Sharon had sucked in her lower lip and regarded Brenda with half-closed eyes.
"Brenda Leigh." Just that. Just her name.
Brenda moaned. She couldn't help it. Feeling Sharon's warm skin against her legs, and so much heat further up, she was certain that Sharon's shirt had ridden up too. Unable to resist, Brenda pushed back, needing the increased contact so badly. Her heart thundered and the darkness was like velvet around them, amplifying every sensation.
Sharon's hand slid up, slowly, slowly. Brenda was ready to scream in frustration, because surely Sharon knew how much she needed the touch. Her breasts ached and her nipples became diamond-hard peaks that ought to be able to slit the fabric in her camisole.
Then Sharon cupped her breast firmly. Without hesitation, Sharon rolled Brenda's sensitive nipple between her fingers. She applied just enough pressure to make Brenda whimper.
Brenda arched into the touch, wanting it to be firmer yet. Sharon chuckled behind her, her breath getting caught by Brenda's hair.
"So, Brenda, you do want me?" Sharon asked in a murmur.
"N—yes. Yes." How could she deny it? Sharon only had to slide her hand down a bit to find proof how embarrassingly ready Brenda was.
"Yes." Sharon let go of the breast.
Brenda was about to protest when she realized Sharon was only changing position. She rolled Brenda onto her back and hovered above her, just a dark shadow. Occasionally the faint light seeping in from a small crack in the blinds reflected in Sharon's eyes. Like an animal in the dark.
Much like an animal, Sharon was on her. She pressed her lips against Brenda's neck, licking and nipping at her. Startled, but so horny now, she was groaning, Brenda pushed her hands into the mass of Sharon's amazing hair. She pulled gently, needing Sharon to kiss her. And kiss her she did. Without preliminaries, Sharon simply pushed her tongue into Brenda's mouth, ran it inside her lips and over her teeth. She sucked at Brenda's lower lip, much like she did with her own when pensive. There was nothing pensive about Sharon now. Instead, a ferocious woman with greedy hands and a velvet tongue began a journey down Brenda's body. Soon she didn't have to worry about the camisole, as Sharon tugged it off just before she got rid of her shirt.
"I have…dreamed of this." Sharon kissed her way down Brenda's neck to her chest. "Every damn time I have to step into Major Crimes…" Moaning, she closed her lips about a nipple.
Brenda was grateful it wasn't the one Sharon had already worked with her fingers. Sucking and chewing, Sharon soon had the second nipple as raw as the other one. She moved down, kissing along Brenda's trembling stomach.
"Sharon!" Brenda knew she was most likely blushing all over, at the feeling of Sharon settling between her legs while pressing kisses to the inside of her thighs.
"Yes, Brenda?" Sharon said silkily.
"I—oh, God—I'm burning up, Sharon. What are you doing to me?"
"I thought that was obvious," Sharon said, her breath gushing over Brenda's wet folds in small puffs as she chuckled. "I'm making love to you."
"Is…is that what this is? Making love?" So not fucking a colleague because the opportunity was there?
"Yes. That's what this is." Sharon spread Brenda's folds and blew gently. "I think we've moved toward this for quite some time, Brenda Leigh."
They had. Brenda could see it now. All those looks. All that animosity. And then more looks. Glances that turned into long stares. "Yes. I just didn't know…"
"I did." Sharon let her tongue slide across Brenda's folds, in between, and up to flicker over her clitoris.
Brenda pushed her fist against her mouth, biting down to muffle herself as the pleasure went from fiery to blazing. She raised her knees, not even considering how wanton this might make her seem, because all she could think about was Sharon's hands and mouth on her. Sharon, whose mouth was as lethal as her own, who could scatter acidity around her, was now making Brenda believe she could go into orbit.
"Yes, yes," Brenda whimpered. "Right there, yes, yes, yes. Oh, how do you know?"
Luckily, Sharon didn't answer, but kept up the caress. Just as Brenda was going to beg Sharon to go inside, she started circling Brenda's entrance, then entered her with two fingers. Curling them up, Sharon rubbed firmly as she began to thrust in and out slowly.
"Sharon!" Rolling her hips against Sharon's mouth, those greedy, devouring lips, Brenda started to see multicolored dots behind her eyelids. "Now…now…"
Sharon attached her lips around Brenda's clit, flattened her tongue against it and that was it. Brenda convulsed, her spine curved, and then she could not be quiet. She grabbed Sharon's pillow and screamed into it when the most intense orgasm of her life soared through her body.
Sharon kissed her way up and pulled the pillow from Brenda's face. "Hello."
"What…" Brenda hissed huskily. "What was that?"
"I need to explain it to you, Brenda Leigh?" Sharon smiled. Brenda was glad her eyes had gotten used to the dark so she could see some of the beautiful woman.
"I think you do." Brenda was still trying to find enough oxygen.
"Hm. Well, it was me, making love to you, and you coming very hard." Sharon kissed her lightly. "So…"
"I hate to point out the obvious, but I haven't."
"Come." Sharon snorted.
"Oh." Nervous now, Brenda dragged her hand through her hair. "I won't be good at it."
"So you never masturbate?"
Brenda jumped. "What? That's a personal question."
"Well, Brenda Leigh," Sharon said, pushing her hot center against Brenda's hip. "It sure doesn't get much more personal than this. I have tasted your bodily fluids, after all."
It was true. That was as personal as it got. "What if I do something wrong?" Brenda fiddled with the ends of Sharon's hair.
"I don't think you will. Should I be wrong, I promise to tell you."
"I'm not good at taking directions."
Sharon laughed gently. "Oh, trust me, I know."
"So," Brenda said, shifting until she was leaning over Sharon. "Where do I start?"
"I would like a kiss."
Brenda knew she was a good kisser. Enough men had told her so. Now she pressed her lips gently to Sharon's, licking along them before she parted them, entering with the tip of her tongue. She was careful to keep her tongue soft and gentle. Brenda could taste herself in Sharon's mouth, but it wasn't a turnoff. The opposite, actually. Huh. That was a novelty.
When she finally let go of Sharon's lips and continued down her neck, Sharon was gasping for air. "Oh, my…"
Brenda grinned against Sharon's collarbone. Then she came upon one of Sharon's nipples. The fullness of the breast was unfamiliar as well as familiar, which was odd. The way the nipple felt in her mouth was mind-blowingly wondrous. She sucked, licked, massaged, and ended up tugging at it with her teeth. She could tell that Sharon was enjoying it. Her long legs were restless and she tugged not-so-gently at Brenda's hair, which was rather sexy too.
"Can't leave the other poor little nipple out of the fun," Brenda murmured and kissed her way over to the other. Feasting on that was just as lovely, and Brenda felt her own arousal reignite. How that was even possible after the firestorm she had just experienced, she had no idea.
Kissing and licking down along Sharon's slightly rounded stomach, she found a scar indicating a C-section at one point. Brenda licked along it twice and then moved further down.
"Brenda?" Sharon was covered by a fine sheen of sweat, and shaking now. "Just d-do what you're comfortable with, all-all right?"
"Certainly." Brenda smiled to herself. She was so turned on and dead set on doing this the way Sharon had. Brenda was so eager to make Sharon come, preferably screaming loud enough to disturb the neighbors, she was salivating at the thought of going down on her.
Moving in between Sharon's legs, she felt her way first with her fingers. Relieved she always kept her nails blunt, she caressed along the slick, drenched folds with her fingertips. Sharon hummed and arched off the bed. That sensitive? Fantastic. Brenda licked her fingertips and thought Sharon tasted pretty much like Brenda herself did. Decisively, she flicked her tongue over Sharon's clitoris.
"Oh. Brenda Leigh…"
Clearly the right thing to do. Still, she wondered if Sharon was like her, so super sensitive that too much direct contact was too much. Brenda made sure she covered the entire area between Sharon's clitoris and her perineum, not wanting to miss any place that could bring Sharon pleasure. When she licked across Sharon's entrance, the whole bed shook and Sharon pulled her knees up. Ah. A good sign. Brenda experimentally stuck her tongue inside even if that meant almost getting her entire face wet. Sharon's response, whimpers bordering on cries, was glorious. Brenda knew she too was close. She'd had no idea doing this, to this woman, would be the sexiest thing that ever happened to her.
Spreading Sharon's folds with her fingers, she sucked at her clitoris and, thinking how good it had felt, entered her with two fingers, and then three. Sharon was actually sobbing her name now, over and over. When Brenda very carefully grazed the clitoris with her teeth, Sharon cried out and raised her hips. Then she fell down to the bed, shaking and curling up around Brenda. "Oh, oh…Brenda Leigh…" She was gasping and trembling as she tugged Brenda to come up, come closer.
"Touch me." Brenda wasn't shy about it anymore. "Please."
Sharon was still shaking, but she entered Brenda, like she had before, curling her fingers and sending Brenda crashing down against her. Sharon clung to Brenda as she moved her fingers slower and slower.
"God, Sharon. Sharon." Brenda pressed her lips against Sharon's. "You are a menace."
"You don't say? Is that good or bad?"
Brenda smiled broadly. "In this case, it's very, very good."
Sharon settled Brenda on her shoulder and pulled the covers up. "I've wanted you since before your divorce," she confessed. "I tried to keep my distance, but I knew as soon as I saw the bed, realizing we had to share, that this would happen."
"On some strange level, so did I." Brenda snorted. "I was worried that my camisole would ride up. Then I kept looking at your legs beneath that white shirt. Don't you know how sexy a woman in a button-down white shirt is?"
"Why do you think I sacrificed that to sleep in?" Sharon chuckled and kissed the top of Brenda's hair.
Oh, that woman! Brenda smiled softly to herself. "Very clever. Seductive."
"I figured if there ever was a woman worth taking a chance on, it's you, Brenda Leigh."
Melting at Sharon's words, uttered with such tenderness and perhaps a little nervousness, Brenda turned her head and kissed her neck. "You're amazing. Infuriating, maddening, but amazing."
"Does that mean you'll welcome me back to your bed? Your life?" Sharon seemed to hold her breath after her question.
"I will. I will no doubt invite myself into your bed as well. And your life." Not sure why this seemed to self-evident, and how she, who was most often not very good at relationships, dared to assume so much, Brenda cupped Sharon's cheek. "I don't want to let you go."
A faint whimper broke free from Sharon's lips. "Me either."
"Good." Brenda yawned and snuggled closer. "Time to sleep, Captain."
"I know an order when I hear one, Chief," Sharon replied, sounding amused. "Sleep tight."
"You too." Brenda closed her eyes, listened to Sharon's breathing and the steady drum that was her heart. How could she not sleep well to these sounds? They sure beat the news on TV.
Brenda woke up slowly. Opening her eyes one at a time, she saw an expanse of flawless skin before her. She recognized her own hand further down where it rested possessively on the other person's hip. Sharon. Smiling, Brenda rose on her elbow and moved all the brown hair away from Sharon's face and uncovered her ear. She kissed the perfect little earlobe. "Good morning."
"Mm. Morning." Sharon turned around, smiling drowsily. "Oh, my. You look like a forest goddess with all that blond hair."
"And you…look beautiful." Brenda nuzzled Sharon's cheek. "I'm sorry to wake you up, but we need to drive back, one way or the other."
"I know." Moaning, Sharon sat up and stretched.
Brenda stared. Had she really been allowed to make love to this gorgeous, classy woman last night?
"Something wrong, Brenda?" Sharon frowned, now tugging at the bed sheet.
"Not a thing." Brenda pulled the sheet down from Sharon's body again. "You look exceptionally lovely in the morning."
Her eyes warm now, and her smile very soft, Sharon cupped Brenda's neck under her hair. "You, Brenda Leigh, look amazing."
Hugging Sharon close, Brenda allowed herself a few minutes of utter bliss and her heart to hope. Soon enough they would be back in L.A. with all the duties and expectations that came with their lives and their jobs.
"Let's not lose this," Sharon whispered. "I don't think I could bear it."
"Then don't let go of me, Sharon," Brenda whispered back. "I don't think I could take that either."
"It's a deal." Sharon stroked her back where they sat, holding each other.
Brenda nodded solemnly. "It's a deal."