Business Transaction
By MissFaberrySuarez
Chapter Nine
Never fall in love with a woman who sells herself, it always ends bad
Emma strode through the pathway leading out of the mansion with such fury and intensity she feared she'd set the whole garden on fire.
To hell with her.
To hell with her perfectly composed hair.
To hell with her tight ass dresses and legs for days.
To hell with her lips and the way they twitched with nervousness whenever Emma got closer. To hell with her terrifyingly predatory glare that was not one bit terrifying at all. To hell with her deliciously human insecurities and to hell with how relatable they were.
Just…
Fuck it all.
Emma slammed her car door shut once she entered it and drove off with the ferocity of tires screeching against the dry road. It was only when she reached for her phone on her jean's back pocket that she realized she'd forgotten to change.
She outwardly groaned.
In more ways than one, Regina fucking Mills was bad for business.
Nonetheless, business was business and she was late enough as it is to go back and change into the outfit she'd already chosen.
Damn, she would've looked hot in that dress.
Luckily enough, the client hadn't specified anything clothing wise. A tank top and a red pleather jacket would have to do.
Soon, she arrived at the agreed destination – a country house not too far off Storybrooke – parked the bug and approached a woman standing by the porch.
"Emma, right?"
She pulled her best charming tone. "That's me."
The girl seemed maybe a couple of years younger than her, stood tall on peep-toe shoes and had her long red hair flowing down her shoulders.
Not one slight taste of bitterness touched her smile.
"Come on in."
Graham was as whipped as the next single guy on his sexual prime. All it took were two simple words in text form for him to drop everything and make a dash to the mayoral house.
"Come. Now."
He was greeted by a disheveled woman holding half a cup of whiskey.
"Sheriff." She suppressed a hiccup. "Henry's asleep."
"Good."
That smug like grin pulled at his lips and Regina cringed, gulping the fiery drink before reaching for his jacket's lapel, hauling him inside.
"Emma's not home, right?"
Regina banged the door shut.
"No."
Graham made the wrong call when he tried to take the cup from the mayor and was assaulted by a hand shoving him away.
Regina shook her head, swallowed the remaining liquid and then let the cup fall carelessly, shattering into endless pieces once it hit the ground.
The sheriff flinched and avoided the small glass at his feet. "You're gonna wake Henry up."
"You shoul' know by now that he's a heavy sleeperr." The slur in her voice evidenced the amount of alcohol in her system. "A bomb could go off he'd sleep rrrright through it."
Graham smirked again. God, how she hated when he did that. She had to strangle every impulse of smacking him across the cheek, especially when she felt two hands tugging her waist, heaving her into his body as if he owned the right to it.
As always, he went for her neck, ravishing her in such an animalistic way that drew a whimper from Regina, not due to pleasure – far from it- but rather due to the wrongness that it felt to have a beard virtually scratch through her skin into the nerves that yearned for distance.
Everything just screamed wrong.
His visceral hands. The way his body moved inconsiderately against hers. Not one movement calculated, thought-over nor measured.
It was wrong.
Graham backed her towards the staircase; still persisting on attacking what he thought was her pulse point, and, even though the whiskey pressured for oblivion, Regina couldn't seem to muster enough strength to push herself into enjoying the situation.
Into enjoying what she knew would get a rise out of Swan.
What felt so out of place to the point of being obnoxious.
But she'd be damned if she didn't go through with it. If Emma had her clients, well, then she had her… whatever Graham was.
She willingly stepped up the stairs and let the sheriff work her dress's zipper.
The girl's name fitted her perfectly.
Scarlett.
She embodied fire and sensuality, while the boldness of her touches made clear that she was aware of the importance of body language.
She was forward, daring and much the opposite of Regina when it came to intimacy.
It stung that those were the things coursing through Emma's brain instead of the usual emptiness she always took comfort in.
Though she should've been feeling nothing, she felt wrongness.
And she loathed it.
Scarlett took her immediately after entering the room. She hauled Emma and crashed their lips together as she pressed the blonde towards the bed.
All she wanted to taste were apples and the plumpness of Regina's lips; instead, she got two thin, numbingly tasteless lines that were attached to someone who was the complete opposite of what she longed for.
Then, to add to the already extensive list of The Things She Was Feeling That She Was Most Definitely Not Supposed To Be Feeling, the cold stab of jealously had merciless snuck up on her once Regina's words seeped from the back of her brain to haunt her.
"Not that it's any of your concern, but, yes, I do have plans."
Graham.
Shit.
He was probably at the mansion already and the sudden image of Regina languidly pulling her stocking up her leg had Emma reaching for distance from Scarlett, snapping her head to the side to break the kiss.
The girl only took it as an opportunity to assault her neck.
She would not be jealous. Jealousy was something so out of her book that she'd forgotten how heart wrenching it actually was, how it physically pained.
How it drew her lungs further into her back.
How it caused electric anger to surge from her balled fists right into her chest and she just wanted to claw it open as if it would somehow stop the agony.
Most importantly, she'd forgotten how it shot endless scenarios through her head.
Graham pinning her. Ravishing the same skin Emma had ever so gently earned the privilege to taste.
Touching her.
Feeling her.
Fuck.
She pushed Scarlett and breathed, but it didn't help since the girl dove back in after a second and started fumbling with her jean's zipper.
Regina had successfully made it to the bed without having shoved Graham at least five feet away.
Instead, she let him pin her on the bed – something that had always been out of the question – and laid now limply on the mattress, feeling it dip every time Graham shifted atop her.
Once again, she found herself smothering impulses of distance.
The reason behind her need of control – in this particular case, of being on top – was to avoid the flashbacks, to avoid having to suffer through the agony of past memories that persisted through hell and high water.
But the more she thought of not thinking, the more she thought it.
Rape isn't something one can simply get over.
And Regina Mills had certainly never gotten over it.
The crushing weight on her ribcage depriving her of the basic need to breathe, the impossibly strong hands restraining her, clasping around her frail wrists and making any attempts of escape futile, heavy knees and thighs forcing her legs open, hampering her protests.
It was all too ugly.
And it made her disgustingly weak. So, she pushed for control.
Control she couldn't afford to lose now that she had it.
But she was tired, and figured – as she used to thirty years ago – that the less she fought, the quicker it'd be.
She just wanted to show Emma that she knew how to hurt. That she held the power in their game of unhealthy tension that ate away at her loins.
At both their loins.
She had convinced herself to go through with it, but it was when Graham instinctively dipped his lips towards hers that she pushed him away (just in time to stop him) with such force he fell from the bed.
She straightened and snapped. "What have I told you about kissing?!"
He leaned on the mattress with his elbows, rubbing his forehead. "Damn it, Regina, I know."
She scuttled from bed, picked up his shirt from the ground and threw it violently against his chest. "Leave."
"Are you serious?"
"Don't make me ask again."
He shoved the shirt on and grabbed his jacket. "You and your freakish intimacy issues, we've been doing this for-" He paused. "I can't even remember how long, and you still throw hell over a kiss."
"Need I remind you I hold your job in the palm of my hand?!" She pushed her chest out and clenched her fists. "You ought to show more respect, Sheriff. Leave."
He obliged and Regina heard the front door bang shut.
Then, came a little voice from the hall.
"Mom?"
Her stare immediately snapped to her son rubbing his eyes and trying to see through the light.
"Henry! Is everything alright?" She rushed, kneeling to level with him and run her fingers through his hair.
"I heard you talking I thought you were having nightmares so I came to see if you were okay."
Maybe not such a heavy sleeper as she thought.
"Everything's fine, sweetie, go back to bed, mom's going to do the same."
"Is Emma home yet?"
Regina gulped and slid her hands down his arms. "No, but she won't be long."
He furrowed his eyebrows. "But I heard the door closing. Who were you talking to?"
"I just had the TV too loud." She soothed, trying to sound as convincing as she could whilst holding back a slight quiver of her chin. "I'll make sure to tell Emma to give you a goodnight kiss when she gets home, would you like that?"
Henry happily nodded and she pressed her lips to his forehead just before he got back to his room.
Regina felt the throbbing warning of a migraine and rubbed her temples, deciding to go downstairs and fix herself a decaf. It always helped preventing those.
As she turned on her coffee machine and snatched a mug from the cabinet, she couldn't help but let her mind slip to wonderings of Swan and what's she'd be doing at that hour.
The thoughts didn't sit well.
But Regina Mills would not cave into such shallow feelings as jealousy. No, she was above that.
She would not wonder about the gender of the client. She would not admit to herself that it mattered.
She would most definitely not. Out of the question.
But the sickening feeling that came with the possibility of it being a woman was difficult to ignore. Why? She wasn't so sure of it herself. It's best not to dwell on things that she would not care to explain, she thought.
"Hi."
Regina jolted backwards and spun to the source of the voice.
"Christ!" She pressed a hand to her chest. "If giving me a heart attack is what you're aiming for then congratulations, Miss Swan."
Emma chuckled and leaned against the kitchen's door frame, watching the mayor in amusement. "That's the plan."
"I wasn't expecting you this soon." Regina grabbed her now finished decaf.
"Yeah, well," Emma shrugged. "Here I am."
Questions hung awkwardly between them. Emma was the first to speak.
"How did it go with Graham?"
If Regina hadn't been stirring her coffee she'd caught the nervous glimmer in the blonde's eyes.
"Fine, dear." She cleared her throat. "And the appointment too I assume?"
Emma nodded, dropping her gaze to her shoes. "You assume right."
Regina's lack of eye contact bothered her. She was so used to the piercing glare that she noted when it was gone.
"Considering the short time it took, I also assume it was a man."
Emma crossed her arms, feeling almost… guilty.
"Actually, no." She said. "Not this time."
Oh.
There was that sickening sensation again.
Regina breathed and gulped the burning hot liquid.
"I see."
"I owe you an apology." Emma picked at her nail polish, never having found it as interesting as she did now. Fascinating. Any excuse to avoid the look on Regina's face would do. "I realize I shouldn't have pressured you into something you're obviously not comfortable with."
Regina fell silent for a moment. "What are you on about, dear?"
"Come on don't make me say it."
"I'm afraid I have to."
The blonde sighed, slumped against the wall and shoved her hands in her pockets. "You know. The kissing thing."
Regina clenched her jaw, put her mug down on the counter and scurried to the fridge.
"Are you hungry, Miss Swan? You must be after… your night. I can make pancakes."
She scanned every item and pulled out an egg's carton, displaying it to the blonde who eyed her confused.
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Of course I am. You're sorry." Regina continued to reach for the ingredients and laying them out on the counter. "Apology accepted."
Emma followed her through the kitchen. "I know this is awkward, trust me, I know, but I'm really exposing myself here. Why are you dismissing this with food as your cover?"
Regina turned to her, menacingly holding a whisk. "It's just pancakes, Miss Swan."
"You're shutting me out with pancakes." Emma sneered. "That's so not okay."
"I'm not the greatest cook." The mayor trailed out, returning to the task at hand. "But I can make some mean pancakes. Henry used to make them with me, actually, before he… well, grew up to hate me."
"Regina, you know he doesn't-"
"We made them every Saturday for breakfast." She cut off and lit the stove. Powering through. "Then we'd cuddle in the couch with a blanket while watching his cartoons. Spiderman. Sometimes I'd fall asleep and he'd nudge me announcing that I 'really needed to see that part.'"
She skillfully flipped a pancake midair.
Emma wholeheartedly grinned. "That sounds perfect."
"It was."
Another pancake flew and landed effortlessly.
"Do you miss it?"
Her stomach churned. "Every day."
Emma nodded, deciding to drop the obviously sensitive subject. Then, she charged with the previous topic.
"Like I was saying, I feel bad that I pressured you into kissing me."
Regina groaned and flipped the third pancake. "There's no need to, dear. If I had felt truly menaced I can assure that you'd have felt it right in your cheek."
Emma stared confused, mouthing a silent 'what'.
The other woman noticed and spun to her, snapping a flour coated hand to her waist. "A punch, Miss Swan, must I spell everything out for you?"
A breathy chuckled slipped from Emma. "As if."
Regina turned the stove off and plated the fully finished pancakes.
"I hope you're not suggesting I lack strength."
Emma noticed a small pull on the mayor's lips.
"Oh, I'm just saying that I'm obviously stronger."
She laughed. "Based on what?"
"You've spent your life sitting behind a desk, Madam Mayor, but I've been out there chasing people in my bounty hunter days."
Amusement washed over Regina's features. "Is now the time I'll be learning that story? And before you say it, yes, I'm aware that it is a 'long story', but you could share it over pancakes."
"Not much to tell." Emma slithered onto a tall chair. "A few years ago I became a bail bonds 'person', more commonly known as a bounty hunter. I chased people. I moved around a lot. Broke a few ribs, punched a few guys, the usual."
Regina listened intently, finishing her already cold decaf and grabbing the flour pack.
"So, you punched a couple of idiots. That validates the assumption that you're stronger than me how, exactly?"
"You bugged me to hear the story and that's all you say?"
"I thought it'd be more interesting." She sneered.
Emma cocked an eyebrow, shoved a hand into the flour pack and threw a hand full at the mayor's chest.
Regina gasped then fumed her stare through the blonde. "Miss Swan, I will make you hand wash this dress with a washboard and soap."
She grabbed a fist of flour and tossed it at Emma's lap.
The blonde jumped from the chair, patted her jeans and shot a menacing glare at the pack.
"Don't." Regina stretched a hand to protect her weapon.
"Oh, yes I will." Emma nodded, devilishly grinning as she jolted forward, successfully taking hold of the flour package and at the same time squeezing it, causing the white powder to fly from the container and land on their hands.
Regina shrieked. She'd actually released a childlike shriek that drew a laugh from Emma as she struggled to claim the flour as hers, battling over the pack and at the same time playfully nudging the mayor until she slipped and tumbled backwards, taking Emma with her.
The flour exploded once it hit the ground, flying everywhere.
Regina whined and chuckled at the same time, fluttering her eyes shut. "Look what you done." She shifted under the blonde's weight.
Emma leant on her elbows and knees, squirming midst the mess of limbs to fit between the mayor's legs. "If you had taken an interest in my story this wouldn't have happened." She tittered.
Regina showed a perfect set of pearly whites and adjusted her position, not making the slightest attempt to scamper from under the blonde.
"If you had made it interesting, I would've had."
"It is interesting; actually, I just didn't tell you the whole thing."
"Well, Miss Swan, then the blame's on you, isn't it?"
Their eyes locked and electricity flowed between them. They found themselves in the same position Regina had sworn to herself she'd never allow to happen again.
But those eyes. Those green shimmering eyes that warmed into her. And that skin that rose at her fingertips, and the blonde locks that fell to enclose them in a breathy atmosphere.
And those lips she'd never admit to crave. She couldn't.
But damn those lips.
Her gaze fell to them and she barely noticed the silence that had set in.
Emma's smile faded and she studied the mayor, not daring to move not even a painful inch.
Then, in a slow, tantalizing movement, Regina wrapped her arms around Emma's neck. Hesitantly, but she did.
Her gaze switched from eyes to lips.
The blonde mimicked her.
She tugged her down and Emma lulled her eyes shut, feeling the tip of her nose lightly touching the mayor's.
When she couldn't stand the tension any longer, Regina inched her closer and lightly pressed her lips against the corner of Emma's mouth.
