Sorry for not updating! Life got in the way...I had to split up some chapters and so this one might be a bit filler

Olivia made a show of giving me the advice I would need to handle the situation, but it was shit.

Olivia wipes the blood off of her face, seemingly surprised at the amount of the blood soaking through the thin tissue. "Fuck me, Naomi, you have a strong right hook!"

I shrug, resisting the urge to feel flattered, "You have a very puncheable face."

She snorts at this, saying, "I've never been punched before. By anyone. I wasn't sure if you would actually..y'know, punch me. I thought maybe you'd give me a weak-ass slap or something. Seems more like you.. But it worked out okay, didn't it? You are so predictable, Naomi." She pats my knee.

"You purposely provoked me?" I ask, finally putting together all of her comments. Honestly I had been so overwhelmed with red-hot anger at what Olivia had said about Emily that I hadn't given much thought to the post-punch grin or self-satisfied air that had settled around bitchface.

"God, you are so dense! I have no fucking idea how you became a detective, you couldn't investigate yourself out of a paper bag!"

"That doesn't even make sense, Liv."

"Umm, it's a phrase, Naomi? Durrr." Olivia continues to smirk, her pretty features only slightly marred by the smeared blood around her mouth, and her slightly swollen nose. I notice with some satisfaction that a bruise is already forming—and Olivia hates bruises and scars and other physical imperfections. Needless to say, with my collection of scars and injuries, Olivia probably thinks I'm about as attractive as the Elephant Man.

"You're starting to bruise," I sneer, "You're going to look fucking terrible, like you went ten rounds with a kangaroo on steroids. Nobody will want to have sex with you." She looks faintly horrified.

"Ha ha ha," she retorts, face composed again, "Don't be a bitch. I don't have to help you."

"Help me? I think I'm perfectly qualified to help myself." I know this isn't true...I've fucked everything up, and though it seems unfair (it's not like I can fix anything), I clearly don't know how to function right.

"Then why are you still sitting here?" she says, giving me a piercing look, "Trying to perv on me or something?"

"Gross, Olivia. We aren't all sex-obsessed whores. So what should I do?"
Olivia grins, tapping a finger on her chin. "Hmm, this is a difficult one. How about we discuss it over drinks? We can catch up."
I'm not sure what her angle is here, but I'm not buying the nice-girl act.

"Umm, no. No. God no. I rode here with Emily, and unlike you, I go home with the same person I came with."
"That's so boring."

Before I can tell her to fuck off, I feel my phone buzz.

I have to go. Got to be somewhere soon. Effy will give you a ride. ~Em
Fuck. Fuck. I text back my response as quickly as possible. Since this is apparently my fault, (though the situation between us was almost unavoidable, I must carry the blame for some reason) I play nice.

Of course, no problem...we're okay, right? ~ Naomi
Yeah... i guess i misinterpreted the signals ~Emily
it's ok..sorry, i just don't wanna mix business and pleasure ~ Naomi

"What did you write?" Olivia demands, trying to snatch my phone away and lunging at me.

"Back, you hell-demon!"

A short struggle ensues. Luckily for me, I'm a police officer who takes down thugs all day while Olivia earns her living looking at people's junk (and I suppose that's all she does in her spare time as well), so I come out on top.

I bite my lip as Olivia settles back into her chair, smoothing down her suddenly mussed-up hair. I don't intend to tell her anything, but then I blurt it out."She won't give me a ride. Said she has to do something, clearly a lie. Says she 'misinterpreted the signals'. This is fucking shit. So unfair."

"But what did you say?" she asks again, sounding concerned. (Another lie, I'm sure)

"I told her I didn't want to mix business and pleasure, which is true." The aghast look on her face is somehow surprising, even though I didn't expect her to approve of anything I do.

"No! You idiot! You'll never sleep with her now..or do any of that other soppy shit that you like. Ugh, if you had just listened to me, I would have told you how to fake the whole thing!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know I'm an idiot. Don't need anyone else to tell me that today. I better go, see if I can find Effy. I wouldn't want her to leave me stranded here." ...With you, my brain completes.

"No. Look, I can still help you. I took an oath to help people, and I'm not going to give up, even for the most desperate cases." Hmm, she's seems to be referring to something other than hippocratic oath..perhaps the hypocritical oath? "Wait just a sec, there's someone at the door. Come in!"

I turn around to see Effy walking in, looking like she's been sucking on a lemon, and scowling at me.

"You ready Naomi?" she asks, but it's not so much a question as a command. "Dunno if you got Emily's text, but I have to drive you back." She sighs, tapping her foot, as if I've been making her wait for hours.

"That's okay," Olivia interjects, patting Effy's arm patronizingly, "I think I've got this. Naomi is coming home with me. Run along now." She tries to shoo Effy away, clearly unaware that Effy never bends to anyone's will.

Effy's eyes narrow dangerously, darting between Olivia and me. "No. Naomi, come on. We're leaving."

I stand up and grab my coat. "Much as I loved our visit, Olivia, I think I must run."

"No," Olivia says quietly, grabbing my arm and pulling me back to her with a vise-like grip on my bicep. "We're going out for drinks."
If the situation were different, I would be laughing at Effy's reaction to Olivia. I don't think either of them are used to not getting their way, but it seems that we have reached an impasse. A meeting of two powerful forces. I can see Effy clenching her jaw, grinding her teeth as she decides what to do. There's so much tension in the room, I'm expecting them to either get into a death fight or start fucking right on the floor..knowing the two of them, my money is on the latter. But I don't want to see that, so I shake Olivia off.

"Liv, lemme go. Look, you have my number, you can call me and we'll get together some time." Lie. "I think I should go though, I've got some um work to do."

"Fine."

We never did get together, thankfully. Our friendship (in lieu of a better word) is best in short, intense bursts. I'm hoping that I can drive that time down to, well, none at all.
The drive home with Effy was almost unbearable, a far cry from the pleasant car ride I'd shared with Emily earlier. Effy didn't say much, ignored me almost completely. Apparently I had just fucked up so much that she didn't know how to fix it...or perhaps she was just pissed at me or she was busy thinking. I was quite hungry, having not partaken in the potluck, but I didn't think it would endear me to Effy any more by asking if we could stop and get a that she would eat one, I seriously reckon that she might be a vampire.

I would like to say that the time flew by, but it didn't. I felt like a fucking hummingbird surrounded by turtles or some shit. Nobody was ignoring me or anything. No, I built up some good connections with a lot of the staff. I went out with Cook a few times, and it wasn't that terrible. He knows how to have a good time, though the endless parade of slutty women that were falling over him got to be a little much. My 'friendship' with one of the accountants and one of the tech guys led to me steal the master password for the computer system. And I checked everything, all the financial records, all of the appointments, all of the scripts. Everything. Pleasure Productions seemed clean, crystal clean. No money laundering, no huge mysterious checks, no secret warehouses...

Unfortunately the commissioner, on advice of a pimply-faced 'forensic computer analyst', decided that there was still the possibility of some sort of prostitution ring.
That was not the torturous part of month. In fact, few of the things that irked me immediately bothered me anymore. No, I soon got used to the long hours and low payout. I learned how to pound out a full-length script or a few short-features every day or two. I was able to work with the porn stars with ease, directing them as they debased themselves in every imaginable way.

It was Emily.

She was everywhere it seemed. I had finally figured things out...I realized that I had a more than friendly interest in her, and tasted the forbidden fruit, but now she was out of my reach. I had pushed her away one too many times. And also explicitly said that I didn't want to date her, so I suppose that probably didn't help.
Emily was nice to me still, exceedingly nice.

She didn't treat me badly or hold my actions against me. No, she was a complete saint. But there were no more secret glances, no more lingering touches, no flirting, no anything. We had become coworkers and nothing else. It was what I said I always wanted, and she is respecting my wishes. I hate it. I hate it so fucking much. She no longer cares about me, it seems, not in the way I care about her. This unrequited 'like-like' is killing me..I wouldn't call it love, not yet.

But even though Emily isn't doing anything, my feelings for her intensify with every minute I spend with. Though I feel like the farthest thing from her mind, she's all I can think of. During work I'm surrounded by her whatever I do. She's always popping her head in the office, asking us if we need anything or checking on our scripts; when we do the filming and I'm required to attend, my eyes never leave her. My body is trained to notice her, I think.

Last Tuesday, the shit really hit the fan...at least for me.

I was called in to our main studio so I could help out with the filming and truly translate my 'incredibly artistic script'. I think Effy, who runs these sorts of things, purposely made me close to Emily. There was no reason for me to be in the room, but I went along with it because I was allowed to spend plenty of time with Emily.

"We start filming 'Fuck Tha Police VII' now," Emily says, an adorable smile plastered over her face, "As many of you know, this is one of our huge moneymakers. So we need to do this right and I'm not going to permit mediocrity. We all want this to succeed."

The production crew and actors clap enthusiastically as they go to their spots. There is so much movement and people bustling about that I allow myself to watch Emily, something I've become particularly interested in as of late. My heart is beating fast and hard, and my breathing is becoming shallow. She looks so beautiful today. She looks more and more beautiful everyday, in fact.

She's not wearing much, just a loose low-cut shirt and a pair of skinny jeans, but she's looks perfect.

"Naomi?" Emily asks me, sounding a bit concerned. "Are you okay? Ready to go?"

I shake my head to remove all of the exceedingly unprofessional thoughts and fantasies that have controlled my mind this morning. "Yeah, I'm fine...thanks."

"Good," she says, nodding and turning away.

I can't pull my gaze away from her, no matter how hard I try. She's positioning the two actresses on a huge bed. One, whose name might be Brandi, is dressed as a naughty nurse. My pervy, sexually-frustrated mind immediately gives birth to a fantasy where Emily is the naught nurse. Mmm, her red hair would look so sexy with the red cross over her tits. The other actress, who is named Trish, is dressed as a cop. I suppose that it's good that my body is only focused on Emily, because otherwise I would explode about the state of the cop outfit. Entirely too little fabric, no protection from the weather, terrible placement of the utility belt, and some perversion of a nightstick..On one end of the baton is a riding crop and on the other, a whip. Clearly not standard issue.

"Okay, Trish, we're going to start right when you arrest Brandi for lewd and lascivious behavior."

I resist the urge to correct Trish's movements as she awkwardly takes the other girl down. It's a movie for fuck's sake, it doesn't have to be 100% accurate.

"You're under arrest for seductive behavior, Ms. Nurse." Trish cracks the whip on her hand, straddling Brandi.

"Mmm yeah. You can arrest me anytime you want." She lets out a loud moan that sounds a cow giving birth.

Trish hits Brandi again, with the baton this time, and wielding it incorrectly. It doesn't even look sexy. "You have the right to remain loud while I enforce my punishment."

"CUT! No, no, no!" Emily yells, furious at this egregious misuse of police equipment almost as much as I am. Or perhaps it's the acting.. "Trish, you're not making this hot. That just now? You hit her with the baton with all the intensity and sexiness of an infant. It really reminded me of someone smacking their dog with a rolled-up newspaper. This is an sadomasochistic movie, so I'm gonna need to see some actual pain and actual pleasure. Okay, we're going to do this again.

Don't let me down guys."

I shiver slightly. Authoritative Emily is very sexy.

The next take is even worse than the first; Trish and Brandi both forget lines (they had about 20 words between the two of them) and the moaning sounded so fake, I was surprised it wasn't coming from a computer. I'm not a porno connoisseur, but I know that guys aren't going to get off watching two women stumble over terrible lines and moans that sound and look like they're straining to take a shit.

Emily sighs and closes her eyes, arms folded and lips pursed. "This is simply unacceptable. We don't have a lot of time, and I am not settling for anything less than perfect. Look, allow me to demonstrate. If I, a mere director, can pull it off, you two certainly can. Brandi, you were amazing in 'Army Slut-hos III'. Just try to channel that. And Trish, you nailed that dominatrix role in that private film."

Private film? I must investigate.

"Hit me with the baton, Trish," Emily says, sliding on to the bed. Her shirt rides up a bit, exposing a toned stomach that has me drooling.

"Um, okay," Trish says, sounding unsure. "I'll say my line right?"

"Yes," Emily says, voice already going a bit breathy, as she slithers out of her shirt and jeans.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Sensory overload.
Emily is sprawled on a bed, barely clothed with a matching bra and panties. For the first time I see a tattoo on her ribcage, and her navel piercing.
I don't think I'll be able to handle this. My brain is going into overdrive, body flooding with desire.

"C'mon," Emily prods, "Hit me, Trish."

Trish moves to the bed and straddles Emily. I feel a lurch in my stomach as Emily gasps as their skin first meets. Jealousy. Emily is on her stomach now, and Trish's hair tickles the back of her neck as she leans in to whisper into Emily's ear. I can almost see the goosebumps forming on Emily's skin and another unpleasant surge of jealousy goes through my body.

"You have the right to remain loud while I enforce my punishment," Trish says, voice a lot huskier this time around. She moves off of Emily and readies her whip-baton. Using an extremely poor technique, she hits Emily weakly in the leg.

I can't help but scoff a bit. Even I could better than that.

Emily turns and looks at me. "You could do better?"

"Shit. I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"Yup. But go ahead, make it better."
I struggle to swallow the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat. I manage to stutter out, "N-n-noo. I'm good."

"No," Trish retorts bitchily, "You said you could, so follow through." She shoves the baton to me and I reluctantly grab it.

Emily motions me closer, still posed seductively on the bed. "Run it just like we've been doing, Naomi."
I nod, not speaking because I think everything would come out as gibberish. I'm feeling an unpleasant combination of extreme arousal, anxiety, and glee. I'm going to get to feel my skin against Emily's.

I don't remove my clothes, because I need all the fabric between us as possible. If not, I might just explode and start making out with Emily.

My heart is pounding so, so hard as I climb onto the bed and straddle Emily. The fire in my lower belly intensifies, and I'm trying not to moan.
Her skin is softer than I could have imagined, and I think I hear a small moan when I put my full wait on her.

"You have the right to remain loud while I enforce my punishment," I say, my lips almost touching her ear. She shivers, almost imperceptibly. I press wet kisses down her neck as I raise the baton up high.

I have to stop myself before I strike a blow with the force needed to take down a perp. I soften it up a bit, but smack Emily right on the ass.

Then then moaning starts. She rolls over halfway, pretending to touch herself. Fuck. Fuck. I feel like I'm having seizure, arousal flooding my body. Her voice is so sexy when she moans, the perfect mix of huskiness and something so inherently-Emily.

But just as quickly as it started, she sits up.

"So do you get it guys?" she asks, slipping her clothes back on. "Hope I don't have to do that again right?" I had to sneak out. I couldn't take it.

You can imagine why it's been a struggle to keep Emily off my mind. I'm desperately hoping for this assignment to end soon. Then I will never have to see her again, and no matter how painful that sounds, it will be better than falling in love with someone who is no longer interested in me.

I've got a date tonight. With my boss. Yes, you have that right. I'm going to dinner with Gordan fucking McPherson. If there is anything illegal going on, he would know. And I think he would tell me anything if I flash some cleavage.
So tell me what you think! Your reviews for last chapter were amazing! Next chapter: humorous misadventures, naomily interaction, secrets will be revealed