Melinda Warner was absolutely humiliated. In fact, the word humiliated would have been a understatement. She only had one question on her mind, and that was how the hell did she let herself do that?

It was just like any other night. She got home from work, and didn't eat the dinner her husband so lovingly prepared. Having a job where your day consists of cutting up dead people meant that you really didn't have much of an appetite.

She helped her daughter with her homework, cleaned the house a little bit, and talked about her day at work with her husband in as little detail as possible. Having a job where your day consists of cutting up dead people didn't give give you a very good before-bed conversation. Especially when your husband works at an elementary school teacher, and you had to compete with such topics as "The kindergartners are having a hunger strike, because we only give them chocolate milk one day of the week". She could have said "Today, I did an autopsy on three kindergartners who were raped and murdered", but being a smart person with a good amount of common sense, she didn't.

Then when they were sure that their daughter was asleep, she did that thing with her husband that married people do. Having a job where your day consists of cutting up dead people meant that you needed as much stress relief as possible. It was certainly her husband's favorite part of the job.

Normally, that moment with her husband would be the highlight of her day. However, that night things had gone terribly wrong.

It was a new day, yet that moment was the only thing on her mind.

She could only stare at the body in front of her. A woman in her mid-thirties, raped and murdered. It was the Special Victim's Unit's newest case, and unfortunately for her, the cases head detective was none other than one Odafin Tutuola. Normally, she liked it when he came down to visit her. He was made good conversation, and she just felt a connection with him she didn't feel with the other detectives. He was smart, witty, and a treat for the eyes. However, after last night…

"Hey Mel. What do we have?"

Melinda felt her face heat up at the embarrassment. There was absolutely no way she could face him. He would know what had happen. She didn't know how he would know, but he would. He would walk up to her and say "So I heard you called out my name." He would have a smug look on his face, and she would never be able to look at him again.

It wasn't as if her husband would tell him. That wasn't the kind of thing husbands tell their wives friends. Unless her husband had confronted him about it, thinking she was having an affair that didn't exist. Of course, she could see where he would get those ideas. They hung out a lot, as friends. She probably talked about him more than anyone else at work, and he was good looking. Plus, add the incident from last night, and she looked pretty guilty. Besides, it wasn't like she hadn't thought about it before. It was natural.

She had explained to her husband that she had spent all day with the detective on a case, which was true, and the man was just on her mind. He laughed and said he understood. He was so calm and charming about it. Nobody was that calm and charming when their wife called out another man's name in bed. Her husband was too trusting of her. Not that he didn't need to be, but still. He knew Fin, and knew he was a very good looking man, and Melinda couldn't guarantee that if she was drunk enough and he was there, she wouldn't do something stupid.

"Find anything?" Fin asked. Melinda snapped herself from her thoughts. She needed to get this silliness from her head. She was a professional, after all.

"Um, yeah," she said, getting to the victim, "Your victim was killed by asphyxiation, as I originally suspected. However, there were a few hairs left on the body, as well as some fibers from whatever it was that strangled her."

She sighed in relief. That wasn't as awkward as she thought it was going to be. She was afraid she was going to just blurt out that she called Fin's name in bed.

"Everything okay?"

She scowled. She wasn't out of the woods yet. Although, looking at the detective, it looked like he was unaware of the incident that had occurred last night. It would stay that way.

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "I had a rough night."

He gave her a comforting grin, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He looked into her eyes, concern still showing.

"Alright," he said, "If there's anything you need, though, let me know."

She bet he wouldn't be saying that if he knew what had happened.

"Right."

All she needed to do now was put the incident in the back of her mind. It never happened.

The thing that sucked about the whole thing, was now her mind was picturing the detective in that way. Not that she hadn't before. Again, he was a good looking guy. She didn't feel guilty about it. She knew for a fact there was a second-grade teacher at his school he would imagine. She had met her and seen her. If he wasn't picturing her in that way, then it would prove to her she had married a man who wasn't into women. Picturing people who aren't your significant other sexually was normal.

However, this was different. It's one thing letting your mind wonder to those places, but it's another thing entirely to actually say their name. She knew that if her husband had actually yelled "Hot blonde second grade teacher who's name might be Kelly", he would have been sleeping on the sidewalk that night. However, he was perfectly fine with the fact she yelled Fin's name. In fact, he laughed. He fucking laughed.

If her husband was so cool about the situation, why was she the only one flustered?

She looked at Fin one last time, as he walked out the room.

"Are you absolutely sure you're okay?"

She grinned.

"Go do your job, detective."

There you all have it. Felinda goodness. And congratulations. This is my seventeenth story, my lucky number. It's one of the favorite ones I wrote, too. I had more fun writing it then Swedish rat-fairies have pulling teeth out of dog corpses (it may sound disgusting, but it is a rat-fairies favorite game). Oh, Felinda, how I love the writing possibilities you give me.

Thank you all for reading this lovely little story.

Fayth