Disclaimers for a change you say? James Patterson's, I'm innocent, and Hang those ABC's execs!!
Introspection.
There was nothing sexual about it, seriously; just the almost obsessive fixation of stripping Jill Bernhard bare.
The idea assaulted Cindy Thomas at the most odd and inappropriate times of the day, and it had for months now.
She could almost see it, hear it, feel it: the expensive material her suits were made of under her fingertips as she slowly unbuttoned and pushed the jacket off her shoulders to pool at her feet, the rustling whisper it'd make first as it slid against her silk-soft blouse, a new texture joining the sensorial melody in a crossfade of sorts, and then as it'd softly reached the ground. The warmth of the well fitted shirt, heated by her skin, as one by one all its buttons were pulled free, maybe even untucking it from the tight waistband of her slacks- it had to be a pantsuit, it just had to.- loosening the afore mentioned slacks and letting them to freefall and join the jacket already on the floor, preceding the shirt still hanging open on her shoulders; the electric tingle of static charging the fabric and running down her arms, and her spine, the fine, golden pores standing on end as she bared shoulders and arms… Hell, she'd even be close enough to smell the sweet, subtle, ethereal essence of her outrageously expensive perfume!
O.k. perhaps she was exaggerating by using the word bare; which was probably the oddest part of it all.
She could see every step of the process with cinematographic clarity, the gentle line of her shoulders, the curve of her throat, the relaxed rise and fall of her cloth-covered chest, the slim wais, flaring hips and long, strong and slender legs accentuated by the elegant cut of the slacks encasing them; close-ups to every item as it's being removed. The life-like sound quality, from her own, confusion fueled, slightly agitated breathing, to Jill's calmed own and their dissonant heartbeats…
And though the only logical follow up to these actions, only imaginary or not, would be to raise her eyes and bear witness to her handy-work's product, the skin underneath and what else might be; the moment she'd freed Jill of every main article of clothing her mind went inevitably and irremediably blank, arbitrarily changing the subject. And that eased her mind somewhat; yet, she couldn't help but ponder the whys, even as she couldn't seem to get any closer to the answers.
All in all, Cindy could do nothing but sigh and hope for all that was good and holy Jill never caught even a whiff of the highly unusual drift her idle musings were taking nowadays; she had no idea of how the ADA would take it; after all and even when it really was just an aesthetical analysis of her persona based in the general way she carried herself, Cindy herself couldn't say how she felt about it, much less fathom anyone else's responses. But seriously, if she'd never seen her, as in really seen her, during the Donovan case: hands in pockets, casual, confident posture, blue eyes hidden behind unruly blonde tresses. She wouldn't even be having these thoughts; in any case and by no stretch of the imagination though, she was fairly certain she'd never live it down if any 'club-member' ever did find out, be this Lindsay or Claire or, worst case scenario, Jill herself.
God first and with a little luck they never would, making it unlikely things could get worst; she sure didn't think she had the brain power to deal with any escalation.
One can only hope…right?
Authoress Notes:
Hi, I didn't think I'd be dabbling into this again, I'm kind of slow in the uptake and this was supposed to be only a necessary evil, but then this one image of Jill just sort of struck me and it kind of fitted well with this, after the edits, and it became the starting point for chapter two.
Let me know what you think:
Nofret.