Once a Hooker
a sequel to the fic To a Hooker,
both by TarnishedArmour
Timeline: Season 7. By necessity, this is A/U.
Summary: Adrianna had left hooking behind, moved to a new life in Virginia, and renewed her friendship with Spencer Reid. So why is she giving hooker lessons again? *To a Hooker's sequel.
A/N: POV shifts marked with CM=-+CM=-+CM break.
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The room erupted with vehement denials of insanity - or that's what Adrianna thought they were. Even Spencer looked like he objected to the question. Finally, Hotch held up a hand.
"People," he said, firmly, a little too loud. "I'm certain Adrianna will explain that question, if she is given a moment."
Nice try, Hotch, Adrianna thought, but I was in sales, too.
"Only if you have a week to spare," she replied sweetly. "A demonstration is more…effective in this case."
Morgan laughed. "What, showing off mad skills?" He leaned back in his chair with a 'bring it on' look.
Adrianna gave him a slow smile, dropped her eyes. Not for the first time did she experience the nearly overwhelming desire to punch someone. She hid it well.
"Well, no." She walked over to him, stood just out of arms reach. "But you could help with the demonstration." She paused. "If you think you can handle it," she added, shrugging the words off, like the demonstration was nothing. She didn't look at Spencer. She saw Morgan's eyes flash over to the younger agent, then back. Yes, he was the type to accept a challenge. Morgan stood. Men were so easy sometimes. And Morgan wasn't exactly complex.
"Rossi?" she asked, turning and tipping her head to the side. "Would you mind?"
Rossi gave her a long look, then walked over to stand with Morgan. He hadn't said anything, so whatever she was doing - and Adrianna knew what she was doing - he was willing to go along, if only for a little while.
"Spencer? Hotch?" she added, then turned to Garcia. "Garcia?"
Spencer seemed to know something, but she'd spoken with him before about various aspects of the life, in general terms. Hotch seemed wary, but that was good. He should be. Garcia just looked confused.
"Me?" she asked, blinking several times. "Why do you need me?"
"What? You think only men use the services of a hooker?" Adrianna asked, raising her eyebrows in mock surprise. She didn't add that was a pitifully naive view of the world. With this group, she didn't have to.
Garcia blinked and walked over to join the men, now standing more or less in a row.
"Now," Adrianna asked, turning to Seaver, "which one do you approach? Don't worry about how for a moment, just which one."
Seaver looked at the line-up for a minute, then shrugged. "Morgan," she answered. She sounded very certain.
"Not even close. Morgan doesn't need to purchase a hot cunt." The word got a definite response from everyone there. Even Spencer. "He has to fend them off with a stick." She paused. "And because of that, he's not nearly as good as he thinks he is." She frowned. "Unless…Morgan, are you gay?"
Spencer started to snicker, turned it into a cough quickly.
"What? No!" he said, eyes widening, then narrowing.
"Oh. Just wondering. I'm usually pretty good at knowing who plays for what team, but I was getting mixed vibes." She turned back to Seaver. "If he were gay, he'd be better in bed, but it wouldn't matter to you. You don't bother with the Morgans in the room, not even when they're drunk. They get plenty of drunk pity sex, so," she shrugged. "Now, which one?"
"I don't know," Seaver said, now a less certain. "Reid?"
Adrianna snorted. "No. You couldn't handle the approach. Hell, I couldn't handle the approach," she admitted. Seaver couldn't handle what came after that either - Adrianna could, barely - but it was better to leave certain things out of the office. For now. "You have three left. Which one?"
"Why not Reid?" Morgan asked, curious.
Adrianna looked at the man. Then at Spencer. Then back. She smiled. Maybe it would do Morgan some good to begin to doubt his prowess with the opposite sex.
"Consider the following: IQ of 187, eidetic memory, scientific leanings in observation and personality - you are a Ph.D. in three sciences, Spence, so hush." Spencer closed his mouth and waited patiently. "Add to that an extensive knowledge of anatomy and physiology, a specific understanding of how to study both written materials and experimental data, a wealth of applicable illustrated materials produced over centuries and across cultures, incredible amounts of patience, and the hands of a magician." She paused. "Do you need a demonstration, or is that enough to start you heading in the right direction?"
Hotch continued watching Adrianna and Seaver, eyes narrowed. The other three looked at Spencer. He looked back, smirked a bit, and quirked an eyebrow at them. Only Rossi managed not to look shocked. He looked more entertained than anything, but that seemed to be his default expression.
"So…doesn't that mean he's the better choice?" Seaver asked, confused.
"It means stay with what you can handle," Adrianna said. "The geeky ones - no offense, Spence - "
"None taken," he said easily. He was still smirking. Well, he had a right to.
" - let's just say they're not as easy to deal with as you'd think, if you manage to get the approach correct. Sure, some are pretty straightforward, desperate guys who want a suck or a fuck, but it's better not to count on it." She moved along. "Now, which one? You have three left."
"I…don't know," Seaver said. She was starting to look a little dazed. Adrianna wasn't certain if it was the language she was using or the idea that Reid was incredibly good in bed - and Adrianna was one to know.
"Fine, I'll help you," Adrianna sighed. "Garcia isn't interested in women, not as lovers, not even as a curiosity. Maybe she's entertained the thought of sticky fingers and loving tongues, but she's much more interested in cock. Don't waste time trying to pick her up. Unless it's to go shoe shopping, in which case, kiss last night's wages goodbye. The woman knows shoes." A look at Garcia's current choice prompted Adrianna to add, "And we definitely have to go shopping, Garcia. Great heels."
"Thanks...s-sure," Garcia managed to squeak, a little dazed. Adrianna wasn't sure about what, but she doubted it was shoes. Surely it wasn't what she'd said about Spencer? If it was, well, some people really needed to get out more. Or date geeks.
"Hotch…is either a complete Puritan, or he's into seriously freaky stuff - the kind that is not necessarily healthy. Avoid him. He's…" Adrianna took a minute, continued her assessment. She didn't want to say as much about him, not when he was close enough to reach her. She was still getting that warning vibe from him. It wouldn't be easy, but if what she suspected were true, he could be pushed too far, and she didn't want to be there when it happened. "He's completely distant, won't bite. Figuratively speaking. Literally, who knows?"
"That leaves…Rossi?" Seaver looked over at Adrianna like she was nuts. Rossi merely raised his eyebrows, a challenge of sorts.
"Exactly. From this group, which is about what you'd find at a bar or in a casino, less a few more unusual characters, Rossi is the one you'd approach. They silver in his hair? He's older, so he knows what he's doing - or he should. He has learned patience. Take a look at his clothes. Expensive, understated, and slightly hedonistic," she looked up, "Italian leather?"
"What else?" he asked, a slight smirk on his face. Adrianna walked over to him, lifted one of his hands, turned it palm up.
"Mm. More than slightly hedonistic, but kept under wraps. Add to that the hands, a little rough, so he's not too vain, but not so rough they're not sensitive." She drew her nails lightly over the palm. His fingers twitched in response. "Plenty sensitive. The fact that he's got money, fame, and probably at least two ex-wives, means he knows women. The exes, well, they're probably more to do with personality clashes or ego, but the sex wasn't what ran them off. If anything, the fact he knew what to do kept the marriages going longer than they would have without it. He's also a horny bastard who appreciates women in many, many ways - some of them probably still banned in Boston. There's something keeps him from commitment, though, and he's not looking for forever. He doesn't have to purchase, but he'd prefer not to have a woman clinging to him." Adrianna shrugged, looking Rossi in the eye. "Of the available group, he's definitely the one who'd say yes to your sweet little body, but the morning wouldn't be much fun if you wanted more than one hell of a ride." The slight smile he gave her, the lift of one eyebrow - damn, he still found her entertaining. If she were in the game...they'd be heading to her hotel room right now. She returned the little smile. He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss along the back.
"Ah, bella," he murmured. "You know me so well."
She laughed, dropped Rossi's hand, turned back to Seaver and smiled sweetly.
"Now, strip."
"That's enough," Hotch said, stepping forward. He was not happy. "Sexual profiles are not part of the BAU, except as they pertain to victimology. I allowed leeway for that much, but asking Agent Seaver to-to remove her clothing," the man just couldn't say it, "is too much."
Adrianna laughed. Even she heard the cynicism in it. The man was even trying to use his height and alpha status to intimidate her. Maybe she could get him to snap, but it wouldn't be now, tonight. Her lip curled, she couldn't keep the contempt from her voice.
"Too much?" Adrianna stepped forward, meeting Hotch halfway. "Too much? You want to set her up as a hooker who doesn't put out? Do you know what that's called, Hotch? A con. Do you know what happens to the girls that get a rep as a con? The lucky ones end up hurt. The unlucky ones, well, no one really misses them. Another burial, another dead whore, so what? And if she's stupid enough to say she's FBI, to carry a badge and a gun?" Adrianna stepped forward, now looking almost straight up at Hotch, not giving an inch. "Is she so bad at her job that you want her dead?"
Hotch's eyes grew darker, more dangerous.
"Go ahead. Hit me," she whispered. "You wouldn't be the first. You might even like it. What then? Throw me down, hurt me? Maybe even get your own back?" she reached out and gripped his testicles. "I can make it good that way, too. No? Don't want the bitch to enjoy it?" She took a step forward, forcing him to step back or invite a full-body press. She could see the pulse in his neck speeding up. Felt his hands grip her upper arms. They were touching, chest to knee now. "Been there, too. It's not easy, knowing rape can't be reported...if you're paid."
At that, Hotch stepped back, releasing her. She let him go. He turned and walked around the table, leaving her to face the group. No one spoke. She didn't dare look at Spencer. She knew he would be calm, but his eyes - too compassionate. It was the worst thing about him. He knew, and he could project that he knew. The others, they did the same work, they were kind...but those sweet, wounded eyes... No. She couldn't look at him, so she scanned everyone else.
A minute later she walked over to Seaver. "If she can't strip down here, in the company of friends, how will she handle it when a john does this?"
Adrianna stepped in behind the young woman and groped her, one arm wrapped around her waist with her hand not gently holding her between the legs, the other massaging her breast. Seaver didn't move, didn't breathe. Morgan, Rossi, even Garcia took a step forward. There was an ugly feel to the room now, one that she knew, oh, too well. And she knew the origin. Adrianna snorted. The girl was terrified. She shoved the younger woman forward, turned back to Hotch. She didn't watch Seaver stumble, catch herself on the table. She didn't see Garcia wrap her arm around the young blonde, but it was inevitable.
"You have no idea what it's like. You can empathize, you can profile, but you can't make the jump to what it is to be, not with this." The group was watching her now, very carefully. She could feel it. "Not when you're this protective, here, where she's safe. When she's alone, in a room, with a john more interested in making her hurt than fucking? She'll panic, Morgan will charge for the door, Hotch a step behind. And none of you will keep cover for more than a few hours."
"We've been in dangerous positions before," Morgan objected. "People have gotten hurt," he glanced at Spencer and Hotch, then Garcia. He was close to Seaver, to keep Adrianna away, maybe. Or maybe just to reassure the baby Fed.
"Really? You've been hurt while selling the one thing Momma told you not to let any one get without a ring? After sizing up the rooms, looking for a good mark? Figuring out who's the least likely to beat the hell out of you when you're done? Yes, that includes the high-end girls, like me. Like what you wanted Seaver to be." She picked up her bag and walked to the door.
"When you have a fucking clue, call me. Until then, go to hell." She didn't look at them as she walked out, feet carrying her quickly to her car.
Where had that come from? She knew she hated her past, but that much rage? To want to hurt them, even Spencer? That just wasn't her. Was it?
The question kept her mind occupied, kept her from thinking about what hadn't happened when she left.
Even after she got home, she didn't know if she was glad that Spencer didn't follow her or not.
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Morgan fumed. Hotch stewed. Rossi considered. Garcia scampered back to her lair. Seaver tried not to show how upset she was.
Spencer, though, wasn't sure what he thought. Or felt.
The woman that had walked around the room just now, the one who had left so quickly, wasn't the woman who'd laughed about Star Trek Voyager aliens with him, or the one who'd shared his bed with more and more frequency over the past six months.
That woman must have been Juliette. It was strange to give another name to the face and body he had come to know so well, but he'd never really known Juliette. As sweet as Adrianna was, the working persona was harsh. No, hardened.
The theory that the memories had been talking was potentially valid, but there was something else to that little display.
For lack of a better word, he called it fear.
Spencer stared at the door for a long minute. He didn't follow her.
Better to let her cool off. Tomorrow was Friday. He'd take a few days leave, go see her and maybe get her to explain what she was thinking. He'd take a few days because it would take time to get her to open up, to explain why she'd been so hostile, so aggressive.
If she was thinking at all.
"So, Pretty Boy," Morgan said, breaking into Reid's thoughts, "you just gonna let her walk out like that?"
"Morgan," Hotch began. Spencer could see the residual temper in the other men's eyes. Hotch would supress it, but Morgan was confrontational by nature, and Reid was used to it. He held up a hand to let Hotch know he wasn't upset.
"Yes." Spencer replied, perfectly calm.
"What, you got a compliment, so it's okay to tear into us like that?" Now that was just a little mean.
Reid clenched his jaw once, then turned and faced his friend and coworker head-on. Voice calm, he explained reality the group, focusing his attention on Morgan.
"I warned you that asking her to get involved with the investigation any further than what she'd done was a mistake. You were given several good reasons to leave her out of the rest of the potential operation - we don't even know if the sting Hotch and Rossi came up with will work, given the new information about some of the victims leaving the sex trades. Since you chose to ignore the information I gave you -" Reid was stopped there.
"By her boyfriend?" Rossi added coolly. He hadn't flinched when Adrianna had started in on him, and Reid found that at least a little intriguing. Then again, if anyone on the team knew who and what he was by now, it was Rossi.
"By someone who has known her longer and had a great deal more time to profile her," Reid countered. He couldn't help the wry smile. "I-I didn't even notice I was doing it. She probably did the same thing, profiling you as marks, breaking down individual proclivities based upon what she'd seen of you, without even thinking about it."
"So you profile your girlfriend?" Morgan asked, trying to make Reid admit there was more to his consistent refusal to ask Adrianna to give Seaver hooker lessons.
"She's not my girlfriend, Morgan," Reid sighed. "We're friends, sometimes lovers. No promises, no commitments, nothing like it. But we talk."
"About the team?" Hotch asked, voice sharp. The last time Reid had given out details, people had been hurt.
"No. About her life, mine, some vague bits here and there about you, but nothing more than what she could see last Saturday. In a lot of ways, you gave her more information yourselves. We don't talk about the BAU, victims, patients, or nursing." Reid ran a hand through his hair. "Look, she isn't going to go back to the life. She's not going to make the case harder. Maybe, if-if the approach can be made without putting Seaver into the field as a hooker, she'll help."
"We have interviews, statistics, information out the ears about these kinds of women," Rossi offered. "It may be that Adrianna is not needed, at least in the way we initially proposed." Trust Rossi to try and play peacemaker. He wasn't as good at it as Gideon, and that was probably a good thing. Reid knew he had given in a bit too much to Gideon, but who else had there been to turn to? Hotch? The thought alone almost got him to roll his eyes.
"But she is bringing in more information about the victims, things that Garcia couldn't dig up," Reid added. Garcia nodded.
"It's true. These women, they were off the grid for a long time. There was no indication that any of them were hookers, not in Nevada, or anywhere else. The tax returns I have could be explained by a good night at the tables and a really good investment portfolio." Someone had called Garcia on the phone, and he hadn't tracked who. Damn. "And the one she called Phoenix? All we have is the last ten years as Mrs. Dominic Frazer, a wealthy man's housewife. Before that, we got nada."
"Six others," Reid pressed the point. "She got news about six others, and more maybe. Just keeping her near to help with victimology will be huge." He paused. "Hotch, asking her to go back…it's like asking Morgan to go back to the youth center." Reid was looking down but he knew that would get a sharp look from Morgan. He wasn't after that. He wanted Hotch's undivided attention. Reid looked up then. "Or asking me to go back to Marshall." His voice had gotten even softer at that.
Hotch looked him in the eyes at that. They didn't have to explain to each other what that admission alone had cost Reid.
"Or asking you and Jack to move back into the house where Haley was shot."
For the first time, Reid saw Hotch blink. So much had happened. Too much, in that house. At Marshall. At the youth center. The silence was deafening. Finally, Hotch spoke.
"All right. We'll shelve the idea of Seaver going undercover. For now," he added. Seaver nodded, gratefully. Reid didn't smile. She was too green. Prentiss, now she could have done it - and that thought didn't hurt as much as he'd expected. Even JJ probably could have managed not to flinch at turning tricks for a while - he didn't like that phrase any more in his head than he had when Adrianna had written it in a letter. But then, Prentiss and JJ were the exceptions. Seaver, well, she was Seaver. Pretty, but young. Had he ever been that young?
Probably.
Definitely.
Actually, he'd been younger and even more green, more prone to disaster. He slipped his hand into his pocket. The heavy coin was the one-year coin, but it was more like five now.
"Reid," Hotch hadn't paused, "make sure that Ms. O'Shaughnessy," not a good sign, that formal reference, "is willing to help us, even if it's not with…undercover work. We still need that information from her contact in Vegas." Reid nodded, zoning out as he doled out work for Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, and Seaver.
No, it was best that he hadn't gone after Adrianna. The group seemed done with the idea that Adrianna had somehow profiled them, but he knew that it wasn't over. This was the first skirmish of many. Thankfully, it was late enough that they could leave for home without much conversation.
Now all he had to do was talk with her, get her to admit what was bothering her, and try to convince her to give hooker lessons, if they were needed.
He couldn't ask her to go back.
And he really needed to call his sponsor when he got home.
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Adrianna startled awake at three a.m. to the sound of her doorbell.
She shuddered, not certain if it was Carl outside, or if the sick bastard killing off former whores was there, waiting for her.
There was only one way to find out.
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A/N: Please review. Is this worth continuing, or should I shelve it?
