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A/n here's a one shot written for my beta... She tempted the muse to write this follow up to "Middle Man."

A Lap Dance, BAU Style

Emily put aside the book she'd been trying to read for the last twenty minutes. When she realized that she'd re-read the same page five times, she decided to try closing her eyes instead.

Trying to sleep didn't work so she gave up after a few minutes. She turned to look at Reid who lay down on the bench seat. The way he slept with his legs pulled up to his chest and his hand folded under his chin, made her smile. He reminded her of a small boy asleep on his mothers couch after a long day at school.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched his chest rise and fall. Was he as innocent as he appeared? She wondered. He'd claimed not to judge the stripper they'd interviewed because he grew up in Las Vegas, but the conversation had him stuttering as he always did when confronted with something overtly sexual.

She returned her eyes forward and closed them. Speculating whether or not the young Dr. Reid had ever been in a strip club wouldn't do anything for her ability to close her eyes and get some sleep. As it was, she couldn't seem to stop thinking about sitting in that chair in the strip club with him standing in front of her discussing the viewpoint of the pack killers.

At the time, she'd maintained her composure and kept her mind on the case, but now her traitorous imagination returned to that spot. It was all too easy to put her in the room on that crowded night with him. How would it feel to be the one giving him the lap dance? Could she straddle his lap and put her hands on his shoulders. Could she look into those guileless eyes the color of warm melted chocolate?

Yes… She thought, as she kept her eyes tight shut. If she tried, she could hear the thump of the music and smell the sweat mingled with alcohol. She could feel the texture of his shirt and the rough material of his pants. She could sway and grind her hips into him, raising his heart rate so that his coffee tinged breath panted against her bare skin.

"Emily…" His breathless voice was barely audible over the sound of the music.

"Shh… Baby, just relax and enjoy."

She stood up and turned around, dancing with her back to him. She didn't react when his long fingers reached out and rested on her hips.

She moved out of his reach turning back to straddle him again. "Do you like what you see Dr. Reid?"

He nodded as heat rose in his neck to his face.

She put her hands on his shoulders and swayed over his trembling body. "Tell me Reid, would I make it in Las Vegas?" She teased as she ground into his hips relishing the feel of her effect on his body.

"Emily!"

Her eyes popped open to see Rossi staring at her. She hadn't realized he'd moved up to sit across from her.

"What?" She squinted against the light he'd turned on.

"You were mumbling." He said with a smirk.

"I must have fallen asleep. It is the middle of the night." She reminded him hoping she wasn't blushing.

"Well, keep it down because I'll like to get some sleep too."

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. She pulled her I Pod out of her bag and put it in her ears. Perhaps if she listened to some music, she wouldn't be thinking about Reid and the stupid idea of giving him a lap dance.

How ridiculous can you get?

She nodded in agreement with the voice in her head and closed her eyes. She'd think about her mother's Thanksgiving Charity Ball instead and how she could get out of it.

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Reid opened his eyes when Rossi spoke to Emily. The light from over Rossi's seat gave him a great view of Emily's dark hair and the curve of her beautiful face. He wished he sat across from her instead of Rossi because he wanted to see her dark eyes. Ever since a bullet had nearly destroyed his knee and then JJ left, he felt this strong need to have someone outside all the madness of his job. The problem lay in not wanting to mess up his friendship, not to mention the frat rules. Still… He couldn't stop thinking about her.

He closed his eyes again and let his mind wander over the case. He just didn't understand rape. Well, okay, he got the psychology behind it, but not the act. Why did some men have to assert so much control over women? Most women didn't even look at him because it wasn't as if he was good looking like Morgan. He didn't go around feeling as if he had to assert his masculinity like that. He didn't feel the need to punish some random woman because he didn't have a real love life or because he hated them. He definitely didn't hate them, especially Emily.

He turned over to face the back of the bench seat. If he opened his eyes again and saw Emily, he might sit up and say something stupid like, "Will you go out with me?" She'd laugh at him, and then it would be awkward for months as it had been with JJ after their infamous and unsuccessful date. God, he didn't want to go through that again.

He tried to think of something other than Emily, by concentrating on the strip club. He'd put his foot in his mouth again with that exotic dancer. He'd been deathly afraid that Emily might see in his face that he had indeed visited a strip club, dragged there by a couple of friends from college on his eighteenth birthday. He hadn't wanted to go, but he hadn't wanted to alienate the only friends he'd made in his life.

The lap dance, paid for him by one of his friends, had been mortifying and arousing at the same time. He remembered every detail perfectly, including the dark haired stripper picked by his friend. She wasn't as beautiful as Emily was though.

He thought back to the exotic dancer and Emily sitting in the lap dance chairs. One thing he'd come to like and appreciate about his brain was the ability to concentrate on one thing and think about something else if he needed. He'd listened to Emily talk about the pack and their lap dance. She speculated about why they would sit where they couldn't see each other. He wondered too, as part of his brain pictured Emily in the same outfit as the stripper. Now he had the perfect opportunity to expand on that thought because everyone assumed he slept.

He sat in one of the chairs in the same little club. Emily stood over him wearing a leather corset and black see through stockings that stopped halfway up her thighs. Her raven hair fell over her shoulders and she wore a silver chain around her neck, made with large, stainless steel links.

She straddled his hips and his breath hitched in his chest. He breathed in the musky scent of her perfume over the smoke and sweat, and alcohol in the air of the club. He couldn't see anything but her dark eyes searching his face as she hovered over him. She reminded him of a predatory bird ready to take her prey from the desert floor.

He should be saying something to her. It wasn't right for her to be in this kind of exploitative position. The problem was that he couldn't make his mouth work because she touched the skin on his neck. The pressure of her body made it impossible to think past the fact that his body was responding to her attention.

"Emily…" He finally squeaked out.

"See something you like Dr. Reid."

Oh God, he loved it when she called him Dr. Reid, even if she usually said it with a sarcastic edge to her tone. He wanted to just close his eyes and enjoy the sensations her proximity caused in his gut. Surely, it was okay to stop thinking for once and just be a man like Hotch, Rossi or Morgan. Emily chose to be there with him. She must like something about him.

He clasped her hips with trembling hands, stroking the leather so that it squeaked under his fingertips. Her exposed cleavage was so close, closer than anything he'd ever experienced in the dreams he'd begun to have about her after his shooting.

"Are you enjoying yourself Reid?" Emily purred in his ear.

She licked the lobe and he almost jumped out of his seat. "I guess so." Emily smirked down at him.

"Emily… I don't think…" He began to protest.

"Stop thinking so much."

She slid her hands down his chest to his belt. "Emily," he squeaked again. "You can't -"

"Reid!"

Someone shook his shoulder. His eyes popped open to see the back of the bench seat on the plane.

"Wake up," Rossi said.

He turned over grateful for the blanket he'd pulled around his body when he'd lay down for the nap. "What? Are we home?" He yawned hoping to distract his teammate.

Rossi stood over him in the low glow of his seat light across the aisle. "You were muttering very loudly in your sleep." The older man smirked down at him.

"I w-was?" Reid squeaked.

"Yes… Lucky for you, the others are asleep."

"Um… Yeah, ah right."

Rossi turned toward his chair, then back to face Reid again. "May I give you a piece of advice?"

Reid nodded slowly.

"Why don't you talk to Emily? You might be surprised."

Reid's heart began to trip hammer in his chest. "I don't know what -"

"Trust me Reid… I don't think you'll be disappointed.

Rossi went back to his seat with a large grin on his face. Sometimes it was just too easy to get a good laugh at the expense of his team.

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Emily followed Reid off the plane an hour later. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked at her. "Emily… Did you know that some of the reasons men go to strip clubs, is that it makes them happy and has a calming effect on them? It's a guaranteed place for them to see a naked woman. It's like Fantasy Island. They think they have a chance at actually dating these women so they don't mind spending their money to try and win them over."

"Is there a point to all of this Reid?" Emily asked. She just wanted to get home.

"I mention it because I work with two beautiful women that I don't have to see naked to wonder if I could go out with one of them."

"Are you asking my permission to take out Garcia?" Emily teased. "You'll have to get past Kevin and Morgan."

Reid didn't laugh at her teasing. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at her with his puppy dog eyes.

"I'm not talking about Garcia." He said very seriously.

Her palms began to sweat. She couldn't look him in the eyes anymore because someone had replaced insecure Reid with a person she didn't recognize.

"I know…" She couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Well, I was just thinking that, in the interest of not contributing to the exploitation of those young women, maybe I could take you to dinner some night."

Emily grinned wickedly at him. She stepped forward and took his arm. "That's got to be the most unusual come on I've ever heard, but I like it."

"You do?" He squeaked, completely surprised.

"Yeah, it made a strange kind of sense, just what I would expect from you." She admitted.

"Thank you, I think."

"Come on," She pulled him away from the plane. "Let's go make sure you don't need to go to a strip club anytime soon."