A/N: Having finished with the romeritos, the bacalao and the dried-fruit stuffed turkey, I'm trying my best to put the next tidbits in order. This part of the story was detailed mentally whilst wrapping up a gazillion presents. Let's just hope I didn't leave anything stuck on a self-adhesive ribbon!

A/N2: So far, we've been wading in a comfy low-T rating. I could keep it there, or push it an itsy-bitsy more into M territory, but I'm willing to go with the audience here. (Anyone for some hot D/L interaction?)

Xxx XXX xxX

Lindsay has been struck dumb ever since she had seen Stella's dress. The amount of flesh the older woman was going to show wearing it was surely illegal in at least 4 states. But if anyone coud pull it off, it was Stella. And Lindsay felt happy for her friend and mentor-of-sorts. She even felt a bit sorry for this young suitor of hers. He'd never, ever know what hit him once he saw Stella.

But now Stefan was looking at her in a predatory way and Lindsay just stood there, like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. And it suddendly hit her. Stella had requested a "fuck me" dress for her. And if Stella's dress was the "demure" one, Lindsy didn't even want to think what the designer had in mind for her.

"Ready, my adorably scared country pumpkin bebe?"

"I, ah, hmm... guess?"

"Oh Bebe, don't worry! Stella, bless her heart, is a show-off. But you're not going to show THAT much skin... just enough to get your beau to wonder what the heck has he been waiting for to get you into his bed..."

"But, but, but... there isn't... I mean.. I don't have... I mean, he doesn't..."

"Bebe... as endearing as you look sputtering nonsense, it ain't going to get you anywhere. So tell me, pumpkin, how do you feel about wine?"

But before Lindsay could even consider how to answer that, Stefan had already grabbed her by the wrist and was dragging her to the back of the room. The young CSI was too busy avoiding stacks of this and that to ask where, exactly, where they headed. She barely had the chance to acknowledge a child-like Stella whom, judging by the elated look on her face, was having a near orgasmic experience courtesy of Manolo anf Jimmy and two dozen different types of high-heeled shoes.

All of sudden, Stefan stopped in front of a mannequin that was half hidden from view behind a japanese partition. The huge man made a grand, yet delicate gesture with his hands towards the dress placed upon it, as if saying "voilá!". Lindsay took one look at the dress... and lost her ability to speak.

The wine hued dress was a mix of diferent fabrics. It was empire waisted, and the bodice, what little there was of it, was made of crushed velvet. The skirt, in a tight yet flowy mermaid style, was made of shantung silk.

The mannequin was strategically placed to give the full impact of the sleeveless creation, which was a combination of demure and revealing. The front had a square neckline that barely hinted at the top of the breasts, and two wide straps completed the demure appearance.

And then there was the back.

Or, more accurately, there wasn't the back. The wide straps re-attached themselves right below the armpit, thus creating a loop for each arm, and achieving the illusion that there was nothing holding that dress up, except, perhaps, sheer willpower.

The back decolletage was a slanted, velvet trimmed line that began at the right side of the waist and ended just above the left hip.

All in all, the dress was a force to be reckoned with. Country pumpkin Lindsay was already making up a list of the 6 thousand reasons why she couldn't wear a dress like that. New York Lindsay was already thanking the powers above for her absence of tan lines.

When she was finally able to talk, all she could muster was a half whispered "Oh... my... God..."

"Yes, my child?"

Stefan's well-timed, irreverent one-liner seemed to get Lindsay back on the land of the talking... for good.

"I love it... but... red? And can you alter the lenght if it's too long? What kind of shoes am I going to wear with it? Should I wear my hair up or down? And wait a second... how am I supposed to hide the underwear lines???"

The designer let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, bebe! You've been converted! Hallelujah, praise the Lord! It's not red, it's wine, and yes, it's the perfect colour for you... it'll bring out your rosy skin colour and the copper highlights in your hair. Lenght is fine as it is, you're wearing stilettos for crying out loud! Hair up, definitively, with soft curls loose here and there, to play up the romantic front. Underwear? What underwear? It's not like you need tit support, bebe. And I absolutely forbid you to wear any sort of panties!!! Tigh high stockings if you choose to wear pumps, nothing if you go the strappy sandal route. Any other question?"

"No underwear... no underwear?"

"There's always a first time to go commando, bebe. Now scoot over to the shoe section and knock yourself out finding the right pair for you."

And with those parting words, Stefan grabbed a still dazed Lindsay by the shoulders and spun her in the right direction, giving her a playful swat in the arse to get her going, which she obediently did.

"Will she live?" asked Stella, approaching the designer with a metallic pair of stilettos in her hands.

"Most definitively. She'll be back for more before the end of the year. She'll soon find out for herself that listening to Stefan pays off big time. I just hope that hot detective of hers doesn't get her too worked up on the dance floor... there's no way in hell to hide a wet spot in this dress!"

"Stefan!" chided an amused Stella, "Be nice!"

"If I were nice, Bebe, you wouldn't be here to get a "fuck me" dress now, would you?"

Designer and detective exchanged knowing smiles and settled to watch how the younger woman went about her one-of-a-kind shopping experience.

Xxx XXX xxX

A/N: Next stop: NYPD Fundraiser.

A/N2: Best wishes to you and your families in this holiday season!