So a little while back this story randomly popped into my head. I've been slowly working on it, writing mostly during my lunch hour at work, and was going to just post the whole thing together, but then I decided it's more fun to get reviews as I go because they actually make me feel better about my writing. So thanks for that. I am completely blown away at how receptive everyone has been to my writing.

From what I can tell, there aren't many Rizzles fics written in 2nd person POV and I'm not quite sure why, but for what it's worth, here's my contribution to that small part of the fics. I don't know how many chapters this is going to end up being because I'm somewhere between half to 2/3 finished with the story, but I can say I'm at least 3000+ more words ahead (and even that could be a crappy underestimate considering most of it's handwritten in a notebook right now). Regardless, it's gonna be a bit of a slow burn...

Anywho, here we go. Please let me know if you truly want more!

Disclaimer: If I owned R&I, I wouldn't be torturing you all so much, and I most certainly would like to think I'd keep up with my continuity a little better...

The bass of the music seems to be flowing through your body. Thumping and pulsing. Seducing you and daring you not to move your hips along with the beat.

It's a beat you vaguely recognize from the radio, but this club mix is so distorted and pounding in your ears that it's hard to tell exactly which Top 40 hit remix it is. It's catchy though and you find yourself shifting your hips in your bar stool to match the song's rhythm.

You usually don't come here very often – maybe twice a month if you're in the mood to escape your apartment. But you've been here every Friday night for the last month and a half or so. You've been feeling lonely, and perhaps slightly caged, ready to let down your hair.

A few ladies have asked you to dance, and though you've accepted willingly, you haven't really felt a physical connection with any of them, so you've spent most of your night perched on this barstool, sipping on rum and Cokes. The hot little number of a bartender seems to be making them slightly stronger for you tonight and every time she catches your eyes, you give her an appreciative smile.

You twist your body around in your seat, facing half the room and your eyes scanning the crowd, straining slightly to see the women around you though the strobe and other various flashing lights.

You feel a light touch on the small of your back, but before you can look to see who'd just grazed you, the culprit is standing directly in front of you. And she's got someone with her. You feel like you've met them both before, or seen them somewhere, but as you quickly rack your brain, you are unable to remember the specifics in your current state of inebriation.

The dark blonde with perhaps a hint of red – it's really difficult to tell in this lighting – leans in close while her friend stands there with her thumbs in her belt loops, looking both a little awkward and nervous. Her breath is hot in your ear. "We've been watching you all night. We were wondering if you would like to join us for a drink or two in our VIP booth?"

As she leans back to gauge your reaction, you look over to her dark-haired friend to find that she's now smirking at you. You look back to the lighter haired woman whose hand is now resting on your knee and raise an eyebrow at her. She leans back in and halfway yells, "I can explain better there, as it's not as loud!"

You simply nod and grab your drink. As they both step back from you slightly, you slide off the bar stool and gesture for them to lead the way.

As you follow the two women through the shifting crowd through the flashing lights, you see the blonde-redhead reach back for the dark featured woman's hand. As they grasp hands, your inkling that they're a couple solidifies. Because of the crowd, it takes longer to make your way behind them back to their private booth. It also, fortunately, gives you time to think about why they look so familiar. As the three of you near the VIP section, it suddenly hits you and you think to yourself, "You've gotta be shitting me," followed by, " Looks like I just won 50 bucks."

The VIP section certainly is quieter, like the shorter woman said, and you suddenly start feeling nervous, but also excited. Whatever reason they have been watching, you know things are about to get interesting.

"Have a seat," the blonde smiles at you, as she and the brunette take their seats in the black booth across the glass coffee table from you. "Perhaps I should introduce myself first," she starts. She reaches her arm across the table. "I'm Maur-"

You reach your hand out at the same time and shake hers, interrupting. "Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner for the state." You let go of her hand and reach over to shake the brunette's. "And you're Jane Rizzoli."

Jane starts to speak, "How do you-"

You smile and let go of her hand, bringing yours back to rest in your lap. "Local media sensations – I pay enough attention. Not everyone is oblivious these days, ya know," you smirk.

Maura and Jane look sideways at each other and share an amused look.

Suddenly you feel a streak of boldness run through you and you feel flirty. "It's also pretty easy to pay attention to very attractive women."

You notice the dark blonde's smile falter slightly, even in the dim light. "Well, I hadn't anticipated you knowing who we are, but that's of little importance now, and I certainly appreciate your honesty."

Shrugging, you reply, "I don't particularly care to lie, myself, if I can help it."

"I break out in hives," Maura confesses.

"What?" you respond, confused.

The brunette speaks instead, "Maura breaks out in hives and sometimes faints if she lies."

"Um, okay. That's certainly...interesting," you tell them, amused.

This conversation has started to become weird, so you decide to get down to business. "So would one of you like to tell me why you've been cree-, um, watching me all night?" you correct yourself.

The detective blinks at you and lounges back on the dark leather booth, throwing her arms out to rest along the top. She smirks again and twists her head around to shoot Maura a look that blatantly screams "your turn!"

You mimic Jane's position on your own booth, the glass tumbler of rum and Coke still in your left hand.

The blonde's tongue peeks out to lick her bottom lip and she then gently bites it. "We're celebrating my birthday tonight," she explains as she looks at you, and she grabs Jane's hand, interlocking their fingers. "I told Jane I'd like a, well, new experience for my birthday."

Love? Hate? Hanging on the edge of your seat? Want to throw tomatoes at me? Let me know, please.