Jill was cordially invited to spend the night, having been found guilty of drinking and driving by one court martial jury consisting of the owner of the residence in question.
'I've heard about you and the reputation of your waistcoats' the hostess purred as she stroked the rough green fabric up and down the neckline. Jill knew that her breathing was giving herself away but she didn't feel like playing it cool. Jennifer seemed the sort to thoroughly enjoy undoing a woman and Jill hadn't been undone in a long time.
'Oh yes?'
'They're fabulously famous. I thought I should like to meet one of them one day. Inspect it, admire it, perhaps arrest it.'
'You want to arrest my waistcoat?' Despite the silliness of the situation, Jill was grinning at the inevitable undressing she was going to get. D.I. Rhodes leaned her nose in on the neckline and sniffed up to the shoulder.
'For indecently stirring up the female population.'
'That's not a real charge' she protested weakly.
'Certainly is. That waistcoat smells divine.'
It certainly did. A warm citrus perfume, subtle unless you nestled your face in it. Jennifer found a cosy nook and did just that. The other woman sighed and relaxed, which was just where Jenifer wanted her. Next thing was to get her into bed but Jennifer was patient, knew how long it might take to get the brusque professional to surrender to her yearning. Never having seen the woman, upon enquiry, she was told to look out for the blonde in a waistcoat. There was a dearth of those around the world since Marlene Dietrich had died so D.I. Raymond wasn't hard to spot. Thankfully. It wasn't her intention to take advantage of her kindness but the woman herself had offered to drive her home and who was D.I. Rhodes to refuse a lift from one of the most handsome women she'd ever encountered? It was meant to be. Just like that waistcoat was meant to be unbuttoned slowly enough to detect the tremble of flesh, the rapid heartbeat ticking under the blue shirt, a single drop of perspiration that she really shouldn't…lick away because that was far too full-on and she didn't want to scare the nice lady away. She decided on some slow effective kissing, ensuring that Jill would stay in the bedroom, which worked very well.
All the buttons on Jill's person undid satisfactorily to reveal plain black underwear, as functional as Jennifer's own, a sign of a true member of the police force. Neither of them had patience with frills and faffs, especially as if all was supposed to go as it should in the bedroom, they'd be out of their underwear soon enough. They were too old to have inhibitions they needed to drop along with their clothes.
Jennifer walked her guest backwards towards the bed; pushing her gently back to graduate her kisses a little lower, smiling at the growls the other woman made in response, while Jill in turn snaked her arms around her, rubbing her thumbs down her back in small circles all the way down until skimming them over some dangerous curves. She knew that Jennifer was going to test her will once she saw her, having a weakness for a generous handful, something she had in common with a lot of straight men.
The other woman was doing a very good job of warming her up. She was pleasantly instinctual about Jill's needs (she was rather needy in the nipple area) which was very much appreciated but what D.I. Rhodes was about to find out was that Jill was an expert at that game, being a raging lesbian of the most voracious kind. Jennifer's fingers wandered around on the peripheral of that delicious thatch of mismatched hair (as if she hadn't figured it out), circling and teasing until the point where Jill was ready to take charge and flip her over she did, eliciting a squeal of appreciation. Jill liked that kind of reaction. It did wonders for her ego. As did the way that her nipples were sucked back into the eager mouth. Jennifer was ravening for more; Jill could tell but it was time for her to dominate and give what she liked to do best. Freeing herself from the hungry mouth, she first gave overdue attention to the other pair of breasts, groaning slightly at that familiar taste she'd not had in a long while. She forced herself to be patient and lavish attention on them first before moving further down. Jennifer was arching and gasping at the touch, she had clearly been deprived of competent sexual attention. Jill was willing to bet that the last person in that bed had been a man. There were few men that could match up to her, she reckoned. From the sound of so many female opinions she'd heard over the year, that theory was correct. And Jennifer was about to get the full treatment.
She tasted of moonlight, distilled in a shot glass. Jill had a range of tricks up her sleeve; tongue massaging every inch of invitingly coy skin, now opening to her touch, driven more intensely by the fingers Jennifer was stroking through her hair. She loved enticing an arousal; hearing the moans above her, the tensing and relaxing of a hidden world that only she could pick up on in the moment. It felt so good to be back in between a woman's thighs, she even groaned at the contact throughout. She had missed this. She did not have her reputation for no reason. She had perfected her aptitude over the years and this professional was a perfectionist. Nothing but her best effort would do and her reward would be a very satisfied woman, one of Jill's favourite things. She had got the impression that Jennifer demanded the best and would signify her appreciation in a most vocal way which incidentally, was Jill's favourite kind of feedback. Her ego fed upon it.