Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea for the story. Snippets of "Voodoo" by Godsmack were quoted for the strip.
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"I know I'm asking a lot," Grissom said to Catherine, "but we need someone on the inside, someone we can catch this guy with, a
"I know I'm asking a lot," Grissom said to Catherine, "but we need someone on the inside, someone we can catch this guy with, and you're the only one anywhere in the whole department with any relevant experience." Grissom has got to be kidding. He's got to. This woman already drives me mad. I can smell her perfume from here, something light and floral and completely intoxicating. I can feel my heart flutter rapidly merely at the thoughts of what I would do to her if given the chance. I can see her cleavage if I tilt my head in just the right direction. And I can hear her mouth form words I'm barely registering at the moment.
"I get it Griss. And you're right; this case can't go on unsolved any longer. I mean four dancers within the course of a month, no real trace, three of them from the same club."
If only I could taste her too.
"That's another thing," Grissom turns his eyes to Warrick and me, his look almost apologetic when his eyes meet mine, "this guy's a little tricky. He must have been observing the force for a long time, because he recognized the undercover agents. It's why he changed clubs. But we need more eyes in there besides Catherine. And, as luck of the draw would have it-"
"Everyone else is still out on assignment," I conclude. I can't tell if he feels bad because he's sending me to a strip bar or if he knows how I feel about Catherine.
"Right. I want be sure this guy is caught. Before another murder. Before he can move on to another scene. I'm counting on you guys. Ecklie already thinks the idea is crazy. We need to prove him wrong."
"Alright," Catherine said as she stood up. "Guess I need to go shopping before 'work.'" I watched, mesmerized as she moved her body in a snaky twist at the word "work." My stomach turned somersaults. Why did I have to be so damn good at my job? If I were simply average, I wouldn't be forced to spend the next few nights watching Catherine dance practically naked. With any luck, this case will be closed before the week is up. I really don't need to go through any more batteries than I'm already using.
After a crash course in undercover work, Warrick and I head out to the bar, Lucy's, before it opens to meet with the manager on shift that night and get a real feel for the layout. This particular place is huge and on the outskirts of town. It's only been open a few months, but it's easily one of the most popular strip joints in the Vegas area. With the easily accessible parking, themed sections, and twenty private rooms, it was no surprise. Of course, with a place that big, there were plenty of dark corners. Add the crowd factor, and you've got yourself some excellent cover, even with the walls between the sections being made of soundproof glass as opposed to something opaque… Alright, I admit it, I'd been here before. It's not like it's something I do often… Wait, why is Warrick giving me that odd grin?
"Sara," he says, his grin becoming a deep and appreciative smile, "I had no idea that you were a regular here." I register that Lucy herself is the manager on shift tonight and that she's been trying to greet me personally for the past minute. Damn, busted.
OK, so I do come here often. I can't help it. I secretly love strip bars. The smell of desire. The sight of well toned women moving in ways I don't have the grace for. The sound of a killer song as I watch the dancers work their magic. The feel of their fingertips grazing my skin with perfect accuracy and perfect pressure. The taste of the alcohol cascading down my throat allowing the entire experience to become almost ethereal. Besides, I like being teased. I like letting my mind fall into an abyss of sensuality, allowing it to wonder about the next spot where fingertips and sometimes lips may tread. But, what I like best, is knowing that I provide a sense of relief for many of these girls, giving them a break from the aggressive creeps that they all inevitably encounter. It all makes me come that much harder when I finally get home to my rabbit.
"I guess I'm full of surprises," I say as I nudge Warrick with my elbow. "Sorry Luce, zoned there for a second."
"I'll bet."
"Shut up."
"Alright guys," Lucy continues with a shake of her head, "give me and idea of what we're up against." I want to make sure my girls are taken care of."
"Of course," Warrick takes on the details. "Sorry to say, we don't have a whole lot to go on. Most of the trace is useless considering the targets have all been exotic dancers. What we can tell you is that all of the victims have been blonde, all of them have been strangled by hand, gloved of course, and all of them were found outside, close to the bar."
"Great. So all I have to do is tell half my staff to stay home until this is all over."
"Well," I chime in, "that's why you've got us."
"Whatever you say, Sara."
"Lucy, shut up. The point is we're here to protect your girls and catch this asshole. And, it just so happens that our other undercover is blonde." As if on cue, the front door opens and Catherine strides in, her arms laden with shopping bags.
"Sorry I'm late. Traffic was grotesque."
"Gee Cath," my mouth moves on its own, "I didn't realize that you planned on taking up a permanent second job."
"Shut it Sidle," ooh, I love it when she gets snippy with me. It convinces me she's a definite tease. Hot. "I simply wanted some options." I involuntarily emit a low moan as my mind pictures Catherine's possible "options." Fortunately, she doesn't notice. Her gaze is too busy following Lucy who is currently walking a slow circle around her with an appraising look. When she makes it back around to Catherine's front side, she stops and holds out her hand. "Let me see what you've got."
"Excuse me," Catherine's tone still holding a hint of reprimand (God I love this woman!), "but who the hell are you?"
"Sorry," Lucy says with a grin, "my bad. I'm Lucy Lockhart. Owner and manager." Catherine gives her an impressed nod and relinquishes her shopping. Lucy swings them onto the bar and proceeds to sift through them until finally she lets out a resounding "Aha! This is definitely the most you." She pulls out a long piece of fabric and my heart sinks a little. I was hoping for something that would be a little more form-fitting as opposed to flowy. Catherine simply gives Lucy a wry smile.
"I was thinking that myself."
"Why don't you go put this on and give us a little pre-show."
"It would be my pleasure."
"Do you need me to pick out a thong too, or are you already covered?"
"I'm good."
"What about music choice?"
"Play whatever you want. I'm flexible."
"We'll see about that." Lucy points in the direction of the dressing room before hopping into the DJ booth to start flipping through CDs. Warrick and I just look at each other and shrug before picking a table to sit at.
By the time Lucy had found a CD she wanted, Catherine had emerged and placed herself in the shadowy entrance of the main stage. Lucy gave her a nod of acknowledgement before switching on the sound system and inserting her selection, a moment passing as she skipped a few tracks. Eventually, the silence is broken as Godsmack's "Voodoo" blares through the room. Shit, this is going to be good. Catherine allowed the acapella intro to go by before making her entrance, snaking her way across the stage… on her stomach. By the time the vocals started up again, she had made it to the center of the stage, where the pole was.
Candles raise my desire
As if on cue, she pulls herself up using only her arms. I notice the dress is much naughtier than I first assumed. The torso is form-fitting, and the slits in the sides of the skirt run all the way up to the tops of her thighs. It's racy and elegant all at once.
Why I'm so far away
She leans back, a certain fire in her eyes.
No more meaning to my life
She snaps back, holding the pole intimately, as if it were her lover, her tongue licking her lips.
No more reason to stay
She brings one leg up high over her head and wraps it around the pole, bringing a hand up to grasp the front of her ankle.
Freezing feeling
She spins around the pole, falling to the floor in a heap.
Breathe in, breathe in
She rises as if being reborn.
I'm coming back again
She rips off her dress, and I can no longer hear the music. She wasn't wearing a bra. Now, the only thing that stands in the way of my eyes and a completely naked Catherine is the front of her thong. I don't even count her shoes. Why would I? They're stiletto sandals. The sight leaves me breathless. My brain refuses to let me focus on anything but the vision of the woman dancing before me. Fuck the sound of the music. Fuck the feeling of my nails digging deeply into the flesh of my palms. Fuck the smell of my own arousal that is so strong, even Warrick is giving me a look. Fuck the taste of blood invading my mouth as I bite down too hard on my lip. All I can focus on is allowing my hungry eyes to dine on the feast that they have only dreamed about until this moment. The only other thing that even remotely registers is that Lucy has come out of the DJ booth. And the only reason that even crosses my radar is because she's standing by the stage, waving a folded dollar bill. Catherine crawls over to the manager, the look of a lioness stalking her prey upon her face. I watch as Cat rises to her knees and places firm hands upon Lucy's shoulders, pulling the manager in to whisper God knows what into her ear. And then, in an instant, Catherine has spun around, her left leg propped upon Lucy's left shoulder. I envy Lucy's view. The flutter that had started in my stomach, attributed to either jealousy or arousal or both, increased and turned into a wave (definitely arousal) as Catherine leaned far enough back for Lucy to smell her (God, I envied that woman right now), but maintained enough distance to keep the manager on edge. Catherine's right hand then hooked a finger into the side of her thong, raising it so Lucy could slip in her dollar. My jaw hit the floor. The music came to a stop and was replaced by the sound of Lucy clapping. Warrick stood and joined her. I just sat there slack-jawed as Catherine laughed and said, "Good to know I've still got it."
"Got it?" Lucy shrieked. "You're made of it! I don't suppose I could keep you after this case?"
"Sorry," Catherine hopped down off the stage, dress in hand, headed for the changing room. Unfortunately, she had to pass by where I was still sitting. And, unfortunately, she decides to stop. All I can do is sit there like an idiot with my eyes popping and my jaw still hanging down by my belly button. I manage to look up at her, but I don't manage to look her in the eye. I pray that she doesn't notice.
"For Christ's sake, Sidle, they're just breasts!"
She noticed.
"You have quite a nice pair yourself. There's no reason to be such a prude about all this."
Wait a minute. Did she just compliment my boobs? Ah, well, at least she thinks I'm disgusted by all of this, which means she has no clue how wet my pants are right now. I relax a little, enough to close my mouth and regain control of my brain. I manage to look her in the face. Man she looks hot when she's pissed.
"You better not blow this case, Sidle. I'm not going along with this plan simply so I can get back on the stage." She stands there, her arms now crossed over her chest. She expects a patented Sara Sidle response. Well, she's in for a big surprise.
"How did you do that thing with your dress?"
"What?" Heh, heh, heh. Got her.
"That thing, with your dress, how did you do it?"
"Sidle, are you a CSI or not?" She dumps the dress on my head. "Velcro."
"This was where I found her." Catherine was now dressed and we were all outside by the dumpster. "She wasn't in the dumpster," Lucy continued, "just sprawled out beside it. I noticed her when I came to take out some trash for one of the bartenders."
"Have we figured out a common link besides the blonde thing?" Catherine asks.
"No," I reply. "Their ages range from early twenties to mid thirties. Their personal lives were just as dissimilar. One was a party girl; one was a complete shut in. One was, get this, a gamer geek, and our latest vic was married with three kids."
"Oh, Tifa," Lucy sighed. "I love the ones that enjoy their jobs."
"Did you know Tifa well?" Catherine asks.
"Very."
"Is there anything you can think of that might have made her a target?"
Lucy shakes her head. "She was one of our most popular dancers. Everybody loved Tifa." The manager gives me a sly look and I blush. It was true. She was certainly my favorite. Lucy called me the moment she had found her, begging me to come process the scene. She said Tifa wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I had been her favorite customer.
"Wait a minute," a thought had hit my head. My mouth rambles on, ignoring the fact that my brain is trying to send it signals that Catherine has no idea how much time I actually spend here. "Wasn't Tifa selective with her private dances?" Catherine raises and eyebrow. Oops.
Lucy nods as she speaks, "She was. She knew how to read people really well. She only did private dances for people she felt she could trust."
"If the other girls were the same way, that may be our link."
"Good thinking, Sidle." I smile at Catherine's praise as I turn to look at her. Any traces of surprise are long gone. Maybe she convinced herself that Lucy gave us some info before we got here. Maybe I can make it through this case without going completely insane… Except I keep visualizing that scene where Catherine does that thing with her dress.
"Alright," Cat's voice snaps me out of my musings, "take a break you guys. Be back when the bar opens."
Thank God. I could use a good hour with my rabbit right about now.