Sweet Dreams

A/N: I do not own the television show Criminal Minds or the characters or places within it.

The places, people, and crimes within this fan fiction are made up (obviously Vegas is real, but the streets, clubs, etc. I reference within it are from my imagination.) I don't know crap about psychology, so the stuff I have the team spout out sometimes is made up. Hopefully it makes sense. This is a Reid/OFC fanfiction. Feel free to leave notes on how you like it, what you would like to see more of, suggestions, and anything else one your mind. Constructive criticism is fine, pure flames because you want to be rude is not. I will try to take it all into perspective and continue writing with what you have suggested in mind.

Please, note, this is a M Rated fanfic…for a reason! Even in this first chapter they are in a strip club (note: it is for a case, though).

Chapter 1

"Man, I cannot believe you haven't been to a strip club before, kid," Morgan laughed, shaking his head.

"I almost went once, back in college, but then I wasn't old enough to get in past the hostess," Reid defended himself. "And since then, I just haven't really thought about it."

"C'mon…every man thinks of going to a strip club every once in a while."

Prentiss rolled her eyes. "Really, Morgan? Maybe Reid is just more sophisticated than you."

The three got out of a cab and started walking down a fairly empty street; store fronts of novelty tourist shops and liquor stores lighted their path. The main drag of shows, casinos, and glamorous neon lights was only a couple of blocks away, but already they could feel they were in the part of town that mainly locals visited.

Morgan was almost giddy as they walked toward Envie. A couple of blocks away, Hoch, Rossi, and JJ walked into Angel's, one of Envie's biggest competitors.

"Really, the need to see women naked in this type of situation is merely an innate part of our psyche…it shows the need to be dominate, to –" Reid was cut off by a smiling Prentiss.

"Okay, we got it, Reid."

Morgan pretended to look hurt. "Kid, this has nothing to do with wanting to be dominate. It has everything to do with beautiful women walking around in underthings. You'll see –" He trailed off as they walked up to a building front. Fake columns protruded out from the façade while a pink lighted sign spelled out "Envie" in cursive. Old concert flyers littered the ground along the street, scattered from a community bulletin board a few doors down. A large bald headed man leaned next to the front door of the club, arms folded against his chest, looking bored. He straightened as he saw the three agent approach.

Morgan, leading the group, flashed his FBI badge. "I'm Agent Morgan, this is Agent Prentiss and Dr. Reid. Is the owner in tonight?"

The guard relaxed a little and nodded. "Jim's somewhere in there. He's always here on the big-ticket nights. One of the girls can get 'im faster than I can – he don't listen to this radio that I have." The man gestured to a cheap two-way radio clipped to his belt.

Morgan gave his thanks and proceeded through the door, Prentiss following after him. Reid, however, got stopped by the guard.

"Can I see an I.D.?"

"But…I'm part of the FBI," Reid stuttered slightly, surprised and slightly embarrassed.

"I know, man, but it's my job, y'know? And you look young – real young. I don't know how that works in the FBI, but I know I know I was told not to let no one in under 21."

Prentiss and Morgan had stopped in the hallway, watching Reid fumble for his license and show it to the guard.

"No hard feelings, right, man?" The guard asked as he handed Reid back his I.D.

"Yeah, no hard feelings," Reid mumbled as he followed the two other agents into the club.

Prentiss smiled at Reid. "There's nothing wrong with having a baby face, you know."

"I'm 29."

"So? Just means you'll look younger than Morgan when you're 50."

"Hey, watch it!" Morgan jokingly glared at Prentiss.

The hallway was short and it filtered into a large room, the walls painted in dark fuchsia and decorated with abstract silver and white paintings of flowers. It was busy – even for a Friday night – with guests filling the room everywhere. A bar at the back of the room was filled with patrons, some being chatted up by the girls that weren't dancing at that moment. Two female bartenders scrambled between each other to fill orders that came by waitress and by the men who sat at the bar. Some tan, plush couches were placed in a circular fashion around small coffee tables while others were placed around the three stages. Music blared from the speakers as the girls on the stages whipped around their poles and danced to the delight of patrons.

Suddenly a perky blond with pigtails and a waitress uniform appeared out of the crowd. "Hi, welcome to Envie!" She waved enthusiastically. "We're a little busy right now, as you can see, but I think I can find you guys a place to sit. Stage or table?" She pulled her shirt down slightly as it rode up to expose even more of her midriff.

This time, Prentiss showed her badge. "We're with the FBI. Can we talk to – um – Jim?" She glanced at Morgan to see if she got the man's name right.

The girl looked baffled, then lowered her voice so it was almost impossible to hear her over the music. "Oh. Is this a sting operation?"

"Um, no – " Prentiss also lowered her voice in the conspiratorial tone. "We just really need to talk to Jim. Can you get him for us?"

The girl looked visibly relieved. "Of course, I just need to find him. Here, why don't you guys stay over here while I look for him!"

The blond lead them to the bar where several seats had been just emptied. The girl then happily half-skipped away to a back door, passing by the stages and filled tables. If she had customers she needed to take orders from, she had completely forgotten.

Morgan looked amused. "Okay, so that one wasn't the sharpest in the cupboard."

Prentiss laughed out loud. "You could say that again."

"She's probably felt rejection before from a male in her life and now finds any type of attention needed and good. Her lack of focus could be from –"

"Reid – kid – really, relax. Enjoy the sights. See that one," Morgan pointed to the center stage where a curvy redhead was dancing, "Now she's a pretty one, right?"

Reid began to look uncomfortable. "I guess she's good looking." He looked over at Morgan, who was grinning at him. "I don't get it. So you just come to places like this and give money to girls so they can dance almost nude for you?"

"Well, a lot of the clubs aren't as nice as this."

A brunette leaned over an empty space near Reid at the bar, her lacey black boy short underwear riding up a little bit. "Hey, Nance – get me a vodka tonic, will you?" One of the women behind the counter gave a nod to her and the brunette slid back to standing up right. A green corset with black lacey sides covered her torso and she wore four-inch leather and lace thick-soled heels, perfect for dancing. She pushed her wavy hair out of her face, letting it hit the top of her back. As Nance slid her drink to her, the woman turned to the agents.

"We just got remodeled last year."

"What?" Prentiss answered, confused.

"I heard you," She smiled at Morgan, "say that a lot of clubs aren't as nice as this. We just got remodeled last year. So we haven't always been this posh."

"Oh, um, that's good to know," Prentiss stumbled to find something to say.

The woman smiled sweetly. "You guys want something to drink?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned back to the bar and called for three more vodka and tonics.

"Thanks, but we're on duty right now," Prentiss answered.

"And I don't like tonic water, anyways," Reid mumbled, making Morgan and the woman smile.

"Oh?" She gave an appraising glance at them. "Soda, then?" She changed the order with Nance, sipping her own drink as the agents were given their sodas.

"Hey, sweety, you don't know where Jim is, do you?" Morgan asked.

Brushing another stray hair out of her face, she shook her head. "No, sorry, can't help you. If he isn't in his office, he's roaming the club somewhere, making sure the girls are working." She watched Reid as he drank his soda. Since he got it, he had focused his gaze on the black swirling syrup instead of anywhere in the club. "You guys sure you need to be here while we're open? You're friend doesn't seem to like it too much." She gave a nod in Reid's direction as she mentioned him.

Morgan put a friendly hand on Reid's shoulder. "Aw, he's alright, it's just not his gig, y'know? Plus, he never went when he turned 21."

Reid looked up, annoyed at Morgan for telling her that piece of information. "Wha-? No, I mean, we do need to be here now – and I, um, I did try to go, we just had other things to do. But it's really fun and enjoyable, I guess…" He gave an obviously fake smile to anyone who was watching. Prentiss, Morgan, and the woman didn't look convinced, so he continued. "I mean, um, you, Miss…" Reid trailed off as he realized he didn't know her name. "Well, um, you are a nice conversationalist…"

The woman threw her head back, laughing, causing a flush to creep into Reid's face. "Well, I was trying to be –"

"Natalie," the brunette cut him off, recovering from her laughing fit. "My name is Natalie…I mean, dancing I go by Gemma. But you can call me Natalie." She popped a hip and put her hand on it, a mischievous glint coming to her eyes. "You've really never come to a strip club before?"

"Um, well, like I said – other things were more important…." Reid trailed off as a short, round man came towards them with the blond waitress in tow.

"This the agents?" He barked at the girl as he walked up to them.

Natalie took a quick look at the approaching man, and then leaned in to whisper, smiling, "If you're bored in an hour, I'll be on the center stage. Gemma." Then, leaning away and talking in normal tones, "Nice to meet you three! Enjoy your night here." Without waiting for a response, she gave a waggle of her fingers and sauntered off with her vodka.

Reid still looked flustered, but Morgan had a solid poker face as he addressed Jim. "Jim Stouder? We're with the FBI – do you have a few moments to talk to us?"

The stout man looked as though there were a million other things he would rather do, giving a little snort. "This about Emile? Yes, well, okay – come to my office…" He turned, shooing the blond girl away and started off to the door on the far wall.