"How about her?" Morgan asked, pointing out a tall, slim blonde across the bar. "Would you go for her?"
I watched as Emily studied Morgan's suggestion thoughtfully. The woman in question was sipping a margarita, like Emily, and laughing with some friends. She gave off an air of easy confidence that was incredibly alluring. I knew the question wasn't directed towards me but I wouldn't have minded striking up a conversation with her myself if Emily and Morgan weren't around.
"Obviously attractive," Emily concluded. "Gorgeous legs... But she must be at least 5'9, 5'10 and I can't date women taller than I am."
It'd been a few weeks since Emily had let slip to the two of us that she was a lesbian and now that the initial surprise had faded, Morgan was enjoying comparing their taste in women. He'd already declared Emily his new and official wingwoman. I was an observer in this conversation. I'd never intentionally hidden my bisexuality from the team but I hadn't flaunted it either (I suspected only Garcia knew) and I would've felt weird coming out right after Emily. Therefore, as far as Emily and Morgan were aware, my interest still lay exclusively with the males of the species. Nobody had asked my opinion on blondie anyway.
"Am I getting warmer though?" Morgan asked, chucking back the last of his beer and signalling for another.
"Mmm..." Emily hummed. "Definitely more my type than the last two."
The bartender, an extremely pretty redhead far younger than me, arrived with Morgan's drink but it was Emily she was looking at. I got the impression that she'd heard snippets of our conversation and was more than a little interested. The way she was leaning over with her breasts practically on the bar, she was begging Emily to take notice.
"Anything I can get you, gorgeous?" She asked with a wink.
This woman was no subtle flower.
"I'm all good for now," Emily answered, tapping the stem of her martini glass with one finger. She gave the girl a smile though, before she disappeared back down the bar.
"Surely you'd tap that," Morgan groaned playfully.
Emily shrugged and took a coy sip. "Maybe," she agreed. "But of all the girls in this room, she's not the first I'd pick."
She kept her voice low so as not to be overheard and cause offense but I was gobsmacked. What the hell kind of woman was Emily after, passing judgment on all these beauties!?
"She's got to be near the top of the list!" I cried. Then I blushed as both Morgan and Emily turned to me with twin looks of surprise. For them, it must have come out of nowhere.
"Oh god..." Morgan appeared to have been struck by an idea. "Now that would be hot..."
"Shut up, Morgan," Emily muttered. I watched her posture close up, her body folding ever so slightly inwards, and I wondered what she'd got from Morgan's words that I hadn't.
"What?" I asked, starting to feel put out by Morgan's private grin and Emily's reticence.
"You and the bartender," he clarified. "You'd be hot, Jay. ...Would you do it?"
I could feel my cheeks colouring further and I tried not to notice the way Emily watched me out of the corner of her eye. "I- Well, it was obviously Emily she was into, not me!"
Morgan let out a startled laugh. "That was definitely not a no!" he whooped.
"I don't know anyone who'd turn that down," I replied defensively. "Well, except maybe Em, in her search for Miss Perfect." I smirked, sensing a way to get the attention off me and back onto Emily. "Where were we even at with your list of demands, huh? She has to be shorter than you..."
"Preferably blonde," Morgan added.
"Cute and sexy," I remembered. "Like that's an easy mix!"
I was waiting for Morgan to jump in with another of Emily's criteria but instead he was watching me curiously. I got the feeling that I was being checked out and, since it was Morgan, I clammed up in response. I could barely breathe when he turned his head back toward Emily and asked, "Just how close is JJ to your ideal woman, huh, Em?"
"Shut up," Emily repeated and it made me realise that it had been a while since she'd spoken. She'd started out joking comfortably but now she looked... I don't know. Definitely different.
"What? You have an opinion on every other woman at the bar but not JJ?" Morgan scoffed. "I don't buy it. Go on, Jay. Do a twirl or something. Show off those assets!"
Okay, so maybe Morgan had meant it as a joke but I couldn't help myself. I took a chance. I slid off my barstool, checked Emily was watching, and did a turn. I even poked my ass out toward her a little, capping the display with an industriously 'modest' giggle.
"Whaddaya think?" I asked. "Would ya do me, Em?"
Emily stared at me intensely for a minute and I held my breath. I was joking but, then again, I so wasn't. I knew that the second she showed an interest, I'd give up the giggles and make a pass. I only wished I'd had time to get another couple of drinks in me before the opportunity arose. I was going to need all the daring I could muster.
Finally, Emily lifted a hand and motioned for me to turn around again. I followed her command, more slowly this time, while Morgan drank and laughed. Music pulsed dimly in the background. Then Emily came up behind me and placed her hands on my hips. Her head appeared beside mine and I knew she was making eye contact with Morgan over my shoulder.
"Let's see," she hummed by my ear. Her voice was teasingly contemplative as she rebuilt her earlier confidence. "You're a nice height, Jayj… Shorter than me but not short enough that I'd have to do something crazy to my neck just to kiss you." She tipped her chin forward onto my shoulder and I had to work harder than expected to control my breath as I felt hers puff against my neck.
"Comfy?" I asked, grinning. I tilted my head a little to the side, trying to get a look at her, and stopped short when I realised our faces were only inches apart.
Emily didn't flinch. "Mm yeah," she replied easily. "This height definitely works for me…" One of the hands on my hip moved up to comb gently through my hair next. "You guys already know what a thing I have for blondes, so that's an obvious plus..." she continued, sounding like she was starting to enjoy herself. "And, Morgan, you should feel her hair. It's crazily soft." More quietly, just for me, she added, "I've always wanted to touch it..."
I bit my lip and inclined my head toward Morgan obligingly. I was hoping that involving him would make Emily's actions feel a little less intimate (read: sensual, sexy) but instead I just felt a wave of excitement. All she was doing was standing behind me, leaning her chin on my shoulder, and playing with my hair, and yet I felt absurdly like an exhibitionist. I enjoyed the rapture in Morgan's eyes as he watched Emily evaluate me and then reached out to touch my hair too. We got more than a passing glance from that bartender then. She looked jealous and I didn't blame her. She probably thought the three of us would be going home together, the way we were acting.
"So, height—tick; hair—tick," Morgan checked off my features on his fingers. "What did you say about boobs before, Em?"
"I'm gonna lose out on this one," I decided. "I'm not exactly well-endowed."
"Turn and face me," Emily demanded.
I didn't even hesitate. Maybe that should've said something—the way I automatically offered my chest up for Emily's appraisal. I didn't even consider saying no.
"You like what you see, Em?" Morgan chuckled and, turning my head briefly, I saw him signal for yet another drink. I wished he'd order me one too but then I was afraid to say as much in case Emily decided to stop in the meantime. Either way, I was glad I had my back to him as she took in my breasts.
I should clarify that I wasn't wearing anything insanely revealing: faded blue jeans of an average tightness and a red scoop-neck shirt with half-sleeves. I actually wished I had gone for something lower at this point.
When Emily took a few minutes to respond, I decided to encourage her. With my back safely to Morgan, I tugged at my neckline with one finger, exposing a little more of my cleavage. I was lucky that, although my boobs weren't large, they were pretty perky. And I loved the way they sat in this bra. I made sure to expose just a bit of that too—the teeniest, teasing glimpse of black lace—before letting my shirt slip back into place and my hand fall to my side.
Emily smirked and directed her answer to Morgan without meeting my eyes. "I don't like them too big anyway," she declared. Her fingers tightened on my hips.
"She's got a nice ass," Morgan commented and I made a point of wiggling it for him.
I didn't mind teasing him because I knew he'd never take me up on it. We knew each other well enough to know that we wouldn't be compatible as a couple.
It was Emily's attention that made my heart race.
"I noticed before," she mused in reply to Morgan. "And I've seen her legs in those skirts she wears. Her calves look so damn toned in a pair of heels... I'm never sure whether to be turned on or jealous."
"What else do you look for in a woman?" I prompted and now Emily did meet my eyes. Her hands ran from my hips up to my waist.
"You're the perfect size," she told me in complete earnest. "You feel really good in my hands. So small and tight." She turned me back around to face Morgan, as if to show off my proportions. Her hands remained firmly on my waist. "I can be pretty physically controlling," she said, more to Morgan than to me. "I want someone smaller than me, someone I can dominate a little..."
Her head was back on my shoulder and I leaned my cheek against hers automatically.
"You mean sexually?" I asked, or maybe just breathed. I'd been able to feel heat pooling between my thighs for a while now—since before I'd pulled down my top for her—and I think my mounting desire was clouding my judgment. There's no way I'd have asked her about what she liked in bed if we'd still been sitting at the bar and keeping our hands to ourselves.
"Yeah, sometimes..." Emily murmured into my neck. One of her hands on my waist slipped forward to rub my stomach gently. It felt ridiculously intimate and I had to keep myself from sighing—there was a limit to what I was going to do in front of Morgan, after all. Or so I told myself. In all honesty, she probably could've slipped her hand into my jeans if she wanted to. I'd have been hard pressed to tell her to stop, even with Morgan there.
"Good thing you're not into guys then," I joked weakly. "Morgan's ego wouldn't be able to handle being dominated by a woman."
"I resent that," Morgan laughed back. His voice was thick and slightly slurred and I swallowed hard. He clearly had as few qualms about watching Emily touch me as I had about letting her do it.
God, I'm talking like she's fucking me in front of him. She's not. She wouldn't. We work together. We all work together. I mean, we're FBI agents, for god's sake! She just standing behind me, one hand on my waist, one hand caressing my stomach; we're both fully dressed; we haven't so much as kissed each other (although I want to). I don't know why I feel so keyed up and dirty. It's the good kind of dirty though...
"Tell me, are we compatible that way, Jayj?" Emily asked against my ear. "Would you like me to take control?"
You already have and I'm dripping wet because of it. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to bite back the words forming on the tip of my tongue. It took me a moment to figure out how to respond. Then, slowly, a grin spread across my face. I turned my head so I could meet Emily's eyes and—God—they were so dark. Her pupils were as dilated as an addict's. I was far from the only one getting horny.
I leaned my head in so that my lips were inches from hers but I made no attempt to kiss her. I flicked my eyes toward Morgan and smirked as I found him staring as hard as if his life depended on it. When I spoke, I made sure it was loud enough for both of them to hear.
"My safe word is Tuesday."
I paused for a second to enjoy the shock on Morgan's face and the way Emily tensed up behind me, her hand stilling on my stomach. Then I slipped out of her arms and climbed back onto the stool beside Morgan. I signalled the bartender and asked for vodka and diet coke. Nobody said anything until I was happily sipping it.
"I stand by my earlier statement," Morgan announced. "You two would be damn hot."
I laughed genuinely. "Yeah," I agreed. "Too bad I'm not looking for a casual relationship."
"But you might be the only girl who's ever measured up to Prentiss's crazy standards!"
It took Emily another few moments to regain her grip on reality. She rejoined us sitting at the bar, ordered an orange juice—apparently cutting herself off for the night—and the three of us talked about other things for the next hour or so.
I was the first to beg leave. We didn't have work tomorrow but it was nearing midnight and I didn't like getting a cab too late, especially when I'd been drinking. Emily stood up too but Morgan looked conflicted. He'd been eyeing this hot Hispanic woman for the past half hour and he must have been planning to make a move on her before the end of the night. We said our goodbyes and left him to it, heading out into the cold to hail a cab. We wandered down a couple streets to the main road, where cabs passed by more often, and I rubbed my arms to beat down the chill.
By then, it had been ages since we'd given up our discussion of my appropriateness for Emily's tastes, so I was surprised when, after walking in silence for a little while, she picked up where we'd left off. Her voice was softer now, perhaps because there was no need to perform her confidence and sexuality for Morgan anymore. It was just Emily and I, walking down the street alone. Cab after cab went by and yet neither of us raised a hand to stop them.
"Why do you assume I'm only interested in a casual relationship?" she asked without looking at me.
It was starting to rain. The droplets were slow falling and cool against my skin. I wanted to cuddle into Emily for warmth. Any other night I would have but I wanted to sort this out first. It wasn't something we'd ever talked about before. I'd only known she was gay for a few weeks.
"Aren't you?" I asked, surprised. "Your criteria sounded pretty superficial..."
"Having a physical type doesn't mean there aren't other qualities that attract me," Emily argued.
It was hard for me to read her tone of voice. She almost sounded vulnerable—a far cry from the woman who'd not long ago asked me, in front of our mutual friend and colleague, whether or not I'd let her dominate me.
No... Whether or not I'd like her to. I decided there was a difference.
"Tell me then," I asked. "I know what makes you want to fuck a woman. What would compel you to make love to her?"
"Her kindness," Emily tried but it sounded inadequate to both of us. "...Her compassion. Her loving heart. Her selflessness and sense of humour." These were all stock phrases and Emily was frowning like she wasn't happy with how they were conveying what she wanted to say at all. She collected herself and made a third attempt. "The way that... when I talk to her, I can be myself—whoever I am that day, however I feel—and she won't judge me. The way that I light up whenever she walks into the room and I have to think of something heartbreaking just to wipe the grin off my face. The way my stomach flutters when she brushes past me or rests a hand on my arm or back. The way she has no idea... She has no idea how much I love her, JJ. And I want to show her more than I want to breathe."
We'd stopped walking. Cars streamed by. Their headlights splashed the wet road with colour, white and red, bright and electric, glowing far into the distance. Still neither of us were concerned with hailing a cab. I rubbed my hands over Emily's tight biceps, attempting to banish the goosebumps erupting over her skin. She shivered beneath my hands and I stopped but didn't move away.
"...My safe word is Tuesday," I reminded her and it took a few seconds for her to realise what I was saying. When she did, her response was instantaneous.
Emily's whole body canted toward me and I was caught up in the deepest, most passionate kiss I'd ever been blessed to receive. I tilted my head up towards her and I marvelled at how lucky it was that I'd always been attracted to taller women. To long, dark hair and heavy eyelashes. To smooth skin and slender necks. To delicate noses. Long legs. Slender figures. Big eyes... Yet, more importantly still—to courageous, honest, principled, loving women named Emily Prentiss, who did things like bring me coffee in the mornings and light my life on fire.