The sun was filtering down low along the wall when Sharon groaned, frowned, stretched, smiling softly as she brushed against Brenda's warm body, still pliant and loose with sleep.
"Morning," Fritz whispered drowsily across his wife's form, giving Sharon a lopsided grin.
"Good morning," she murmured, hiding her yawn behind her hand. "What time is it?"
Fritz rubbed his eyes, fumbled at his bedside table. "Eleven-thirty," he said softly.
"Oh my," Sharon blinked. "I haven't slept this late since . . . well, since the last time I got home from a crime scene at four am. Oh," she breathed, sitting up, "I have to call Rusty, where's my phone—"
"Right next to you, Shar," he teased gently. "You want some coffee?"
Yes please, she mouthed, phone already pressed to her ear as she fished around for her nightgown. And then, love you.
He was about to say it back when she bounced a little on the bed, saying a bright "hi, honey, I'm sorry I didn't call, things went even later than expected and I slept longer than I—mm-hmm—yes—oh, great!" She grinned, both at Rusty's voice and at Fritz, still hovering in the doorway. Brenda groaned a little, curling up into a tight ball, dragging the duvet over her head.
"Well, I won't keep you," Sharon said. "Be careful, have fun, be careful, call me when you get there." She frowned a little. "I say be careful because I want you to be careful, Rusty," she said in that stern voice Fritz would never be able to hear quite the same way again, at least when it was directed at him. Grinned as she sighed, rolled her eyes. "I promise I won't have local PD follow you. As long as you call. Love you, honey. And have fun!" She shook her head slightly as she set the phone down.
"What's the story?"
"He's going up to Napa with Gus for a few days," she said softly, glancing at Brenda's resistant little form. "They'd been talking about it, we'd already talked about it, but he wasn't sure he'd go until sometime last night. I'm sure I don't need the specifics of his persuasion," she added, wincing. "But I'm so pleased he decided to go."
"Love can make you take big chances," Fritz said fondly. "Like, for instance, do I risk her wrath by starting waffles without waking her up?"
"You do not," the blanket-covered lump grumbled. "Coffee, yes, but I gotta be prepared for waffles."
"Glad there's still some things that can pry you out of bed."
"I've got jet lag!" she whined, pulling the duvet down far enough to expose a wounded little pout.
"Brenda," Fritz sighed, patting her on the rump, "if anything, your brain thinks it's two-thirty in the afternoon."
She huffed, pulled the blanket back up again before poking her head out one more time. "You wanna come cuddle, Sharon? Since you got the weekend free now? Fritzi's making waffles for us, we don't even have to get up."
"I refuse to eat waffles in bed, Chief," Sharon gasped, truly horrified.
"Fine," Brenda huffed again. "Don't come cuddle." She flopped the cover back over her face with a petulant little sigh.
Fritz and Sharon grinned at each other. "Not right now," Sharon murmured, dropping a kiss to the blanket where she assumed Brenda's head was. "I'm going to run home, if that's all right. I have a few errands to take care of and I need to make sure my son didn't leave the condo looking like a hurricane passed through."
She smiled at Brenda's disappointed little harrumph. "But I was wondering if you two would like to come over for dinner tonight."
Brenda's head popped back out from under the blanket. "What time?"
"Around seven? And I insist on cooking this time."
"What do you think, Fritzi?" Brenda asked sweetly. "Can we?"
"That sounds great, Sharon," he said, crossing over to press a kiss to Sharon's shoulder blade as she pulled her clothes out of her little overnight bag.
"Great," she repeated, smiling widely. "It's a date."
She collected her things and disappeared into the bathroom.
"Come on, Brenda Leigh," Fritz said, lightly smacking her rump again. "You want waffles or not?"
"'Course I want waffles," she grumbled.
By the time Sharon emerged from the bathroom, face scrubbed, hair smoothed back, Fritz and Brenda were in the kitchen, Fritz bustling around as Brenda sat at the table, bleary-eyed, staring into a cup of coffee.
"I'll see you both tonight," Sharon said, pressing a soft kiss to each of their mouths. "Don't be late."
"Do you want us to bring anything?" Fritz asked.
"Just yourselves," she replied. "And an overnight bag, if you'd like."
"We'd like," Brenda said, perking up.
"Good," Sharon murmured, the corner of her mouth lifting. "Love you," she added as she slipped out the door.
"Love you too," Brenda called after her, a faint blush spreading on her cheeks.
"That went well," Fritz said after Sharon had left.
"It sure did," Brenda said dreamily. "Better than I could ever have imagined."
"We'll still have to talk," Fritz said, but his voice was gentle.
"I know," Brenda said softly. "I want to. I'm ready. In fact, Fritzi, I was thinkin' that there was something I wanted to talk to you about first."
"Mm-hmm," he said evenly, pouring batter onto the hot waffle iron.
"I was thinkin'—uh," she stammered.
"It's all right, Bren," he said. "Whatever it is."
"I was thinkin,'" she said again, taking a deep breath, "that it might be good if I got my own place here in LA. At least for a while."
He didn't respond, just poked at the batter oozing out from the edges of the machine.
"Fritzi?" Her voice was hushed, nervous.
"What makes you think that?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral.
"It's just . . . it's just that I was thinkin' that maybe part of what made me decide to run away is that I was feelin' kinda . . . trapped. Not by you, Fritzi, I love you, you know I do, but . . . we weren't ever so good at sharin' a space. I'm a slob, and you hate that. You're a neat freak, and I hate that. Plus our jobs meant we weren't hardly ever home together anyway, and when we were, at least one of us was usually tired and cranky from work. And I think—I think—"
"What do you think, honey?"
"I just think it might be good," she mumbled. "For me. For us. For all of us. I could get a place between here and Sharon's, or closer to work—"
"You know what, Bren?" Fritz said, flipping the waffle onto a plate, setting it in front of her. "I think that could be a good idea too."
"You do?" she breathed, hopeful.
"I do. I agree, we aren't great at cohabitating. We've got good jobs, and we already know we can afford two places. And, well, I have to admit it's been kind of nice being by myself here. I miss you, of course, but . . . "
"I know," she sighed. "And this way we can all be our own people, instead of tryin' and failin' to be different for each other and just startin' to resent each other all over again," she added, leaving out the part where she was nervous that Sharon might start to feel left out, to withdraw, if she and Fritz were living together as husband and wife again, but she hoped he could pick up on that, too.
"Exactly," he said, reaching out, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "I think this is a good idea, honey. I want us—all of us—to feel good about being together. And it seems like the best way to do that is to not be together all the time."
"That's exactly it," she nodded, spearing a piece of waffle, dragging it through a puddle of syrup. "I love you, Fritzi," she sighed happily, licking the sticky sweetness from her lips.
"Love you too, Bren," he smiled. "I'll get this cleaned up, why don't you go take a shower?"
"Why don't," Brenda drawled, giving him a sly, flirtatious look, "I help you get this cleaned up, and then you can wash my back?"
"Look at us," Fritz said, feeling his thighs clench a little bit. "Already working together better."
"I feel nervous," Brenda said as they stood in the elevator, drifting slowly up to the eleventh floor. "Why do I feel nervous?"
"Because this is a big deal, honey," Fritz whispered, kissing the side of her head. "We're all finally talking about what it is we want, and that's a difficult thing to do."
"I know," Brenda sighed. "I wish it wasn't."
"Me too," Fritz chuckled. "Come on," he said as the doors slid open. "Hard stuff first."
"And second," Brenda snickered as he rolled his eyes.
"Were you always such a child?" he teased.
"I grew up with three brothers, Fritzi, gigglin' at sex jokes is practically Sunday School."
"I guess I'm not used to you being so . . ."
"Happy?" she murmured, leaning up to kiss him as they arrived at Sharon's door.
"Yeah," he said, brow darkening just a little.
"I didn't mean it like that, honey," Brenda said, frowning at his expression.
"You did, baby, and it's okay. I promise. I like you this way, Brenda Leigh. You seem more like . . . you."
Brenda smiled, relieved, and leaned up to kiss him again.
"Are you two going to stand out there all night?" Sharon called through the door. "After I cooked for you?"
"Busted," Fritz murmured. He knocked on the door officiously, Sharon swinging it open before his knuckles left the wood.
"Hello," Sharon said, her voice low and warm. "Come in." She squeezed each of them as they entered, giving them each a soft peck on the lips.
"Smells amazin'," Brenda said, kicking off her shoes next to the door.
"Just a roast chicken," Sharon said, waving her hand. "Can I get either of you something to drink?"
Fritz smiled as he realized Sharon seemed a little nervous too. "Club soda would be great, Shar. Brenda, wine?"
"I'll get it," Brenda said quickly, already moving into the kitchen.
"You still know your way around?"
"Unless you secretly rearranged everything since I was here last," Brenda called. "You want me to refill yours, Sharon?"
"Yes, that would be nice, thank you. Dinner's ready now, or we can wait a bit."
"Why don't we sit on the couch for a second," Fritz suggested. "Talk a little first."
"All right," Sharon said, her voice betraying nothing, but they all noticed her hand shaking a little as she accepted her wine glass from Brenda.
"All good things, sugar," Brenda said sweetly, kissing Sharon's cheek. "I promise."
They settled on the sofa, Brenda curling her feet under herself and leaning against Sharon, Fritz on the other side, his arm slung casually around Sharon's shoulders, fingers toying with his wife's hair.
"Brenda, why don't you tell Sharon what you were thinking about."
"I'm . . . well," she took a sip of her wine. Sharon sat stock-still between them. "I'm gonna take that job at the DA's office when they offer it to me and I'm gonna move into my own place here in LA for a while."
Sharon's hand trembled, wine sloshing in her glass. She quickly took a sip of her own.
"Fritzi and I talked about it earlier, and we agreed that we're not the best at bein' roommates. And we've both been likin' havin' our own spaces, and it might be easier for all of us to get along better if we could all have our own lives, a little. Like you two do now."
"We both like this idea, Sharon," Fritz said gently, squeezing her shoulder. "We both want it."
"And I could get a place between here and the apartment," Brenda said excitedly, warming up. "Or closer to work, so it could be easier for us to, you know, see each other when we want to. However we want to."
"Hmmm," Sharon murmured.
"What—what do you think, Sharon?" Brenda asked, voice suddenly small, unsure.
"I think," she said slowly, taking another sip of her wine, "that this seems like a very thoughtful decision, Brenda, and I support it."
"Oh good," she breathed, snuggling closer to Sharon. "You know I'm not any good at bein' someone else, no matter how bad I want to be. And this way, we can all be ourselves without worryin' about all that."
Sharon hummed again.
"I just love you both so much," Brenda whispered. "I don't want to sabotage that again. And I don't want to sabotage it for you two, either. I meant it when I said you're good together."
"We're good together," Fritz added. "All of us."
"Yeah," Brenda smiled. "I don't really know how to say it right, but it feels like we all balance each other out better than just two of us could manage. But I'm serious, now, I don't want you to feel like you have to include me just because I'm comin' back, not all the time, at least." She blushed. "In fact, uh . . ."
"What is it?" Sharon asked, settling back into the sofa, her body relaxing against the two of them.
"There's still one more thing I want this weekend," she stammered. "One thing I didn't get yet."
"Which is?" Sharon smirked, feeling Brenda's breathing get a little flustered. Fritz shifted his hips, swallowed audibly.
"I want to watch you two," Brenda breathed. "I want to watch you two together, just me watchin', not touchin'."
"Ah," Sharon said, a flush creeping up her chest.
"Sharon?" Fritz murmured, his thumb working light circles around her bicep. "Can she?"
"I think that can be arranged," Sharon said, low, dark, sensual. Brenda shivered next to her.
"Just like you do when I'm not here," she rasped.
Sharon smiled, turned to her, caught her mouth in a warm, slow kiss. "Do you want it hard or soft?" she asked.
Brenda gaped for a moment. "I, uh—"
"How do you want it, Sharon?" Fritz leaned over, kissed her neck. "Tell me how you want it."
"Tell him, Sharon," Brenda breathed, already beginning to squirm a little.
"I want," Sharon said, setting her wine glass down, "to eat dinner."
"Aw, you're no fun," Brenda pouted.
"Do you really think that's true, Chief?" Sharon murmured in her ear.
"No ma'am," Brenda gulped. "No ma'am I do not."
"Come on," Sharon said brightly, pushing herself off the couch, patting Brenda's thigh. "Dinner first. Then a show."
"Oh god," Brenda mumbled, shivering.
Sharon smirked as Brenda ate her dinner in record time, even carrying the dishes to the sink and tidying the kitchen. She and Fritz sat at the table, gazing at each other, letting the tension start to build between them. Sharon was a little nervous about it, which she knew was silly, given how much sex she'd had with both of these people in just the last eighteen hours, but she knew Brenda wanted more than to watch two people fucking. She wanted to see the connection, the intimacy.
Brenda had surprised Sharon with her tenderness, her delicacy. After their first rough, frantic encounter things had gotten softer, sweeter. They'd still fucked hard and feverishly as often as they could, but there was a gentleness between them, something Sharon hadn't expected, but found herself craving more than Brenda's physical touch. They hadn't been together like that, just the two of them, in a long time, and she was a bit anxious that Brenda might feel slighted by how close she and Fritz could be.
She shook her head a little. This is what Brenda wanted, what she said she wanted. This was Brenda being honest with her, asking for what she needed, and Sharon was going to trust her. They were going to trust each other. The realization sent a sharp little thrill down her spine.
"You all right, Shar?" Fritz asked softly, so Brenda couldn't hear him. She nodded.
"Feels different this time," she murmured, not really able to articulate beyond that.
"I know," he replied, soothing at the back of her hand. "I think it's good, though."
"Hmm."
"Do you want to go . . . " he drifted off, indicating the bedroom.
Sharon shook her head, took a deep breath. "No," she said. "I want you to sit right there."
She pushed herself up away from the table, tugging lightly on the back of Fritz's chair to indicate he should scoot back, then elegantly slipped onto his lap, straddling his legs, her skirt sliding up her thighs as she faced him.
"Sharon," he murmured, running his hands up her back, groaning a little as she arched against him, driving her hips down against his.
"Y'all want any more—oh," Brenda said, finally looking over at them. "Goodness."
Sharon leaned down, took Fritz's face between her hands, kissed him hot and sweet, her tongue sweeping into his mouth. He clutched at her, breaking the kiss to press his lips to her throat, her chest, as she surged against him.
"Oh," Brenda gasped again, bracing herself on the countertop, her jaw dropping open. "Oh goodness."
Sharon felt her arousal starting to grow, and Fritz's too. She groaned a little as she ground down on him, hips working in slow circles on his lap. Fritz's mouth open against her throat, his hands running hard up her sides, circling around to cup her breasts through her thin blouse, grunting when he felt her hard nipples rasp against his palms.
"God, Sharon," he rumbled. "You always feel so incredible. Always so—" he shuddered as he pulled her shirt up, sucked a nipple into his mouth, Sharon gasping and keening and scratching her nails across Fritz's scalp as her hips began to move on their own, Fritz's cock already hard under her.
"So what, Fritz?" she gasped.
"So . . . good. So hot, so soft. God you feel so good against me."
He slid his hand up under her soft skirt, one she'd worn specifically for that very reason, and groaned again when all he found was skin and heat and wetness. She knew she was probably leaving a stain on his trousers as she rocked against him, but the thought made her hum a little. She always liked to mark her partners in some way, it made her feel powerful. Glanced over at Brenda, saw the little pattern of faint bruises on her throat from her mouth, her teeth. Didn't look long, just enough to take in Brenda's glassy stare, her mouth open, wet, glistening as she licked her lips.
Fritz smiled dreamily as he pushed his fingers into Sharon's heat, letting her arousal soak his hand. Snarled a little as he thrust into her, Sharon's head tipping back as she moaned. She could hear Brenda's little gasps from the kitchen, wondered briefly if she'd ever move away from the counter, but also felt a little thrill from making her stop in her tracks to watch this.
"I want—" she gasped. "Fuck, Fritz, I want—"
"What do you want, baby," he groaned in her ear, the wet sounds of his fingers pushing into her driving her higher already.
"Fuck me," she breathed. "Right here."
"Oh," Brenda gasped again, her soft, hitching little breaths making Sharon quiver.
"God," Fritz moaned as he twisted one hand through Sharon's hair, the other slipping out of her, fumbling with his fly, the soft snick of the zipper and the faint rustle of cloth making her clench in anticipation. She lifted her hips up as he freed his cock, already shiny and throbbing, bit her lip as she sank back down on it in one smooth motion.
"Fuck, Sharon," Fritz choked out, his breath coming in strangled little gasps. "So hot . . . so tight . . . god I love fucking you."
"Harder, Fritz," she panted, leaning down to capture his lower lip in her teeth, rocking wet against him, wanting to feel him thrusting into her, wanting it to hurt a little. Not paying attention to Brenda but feeling her gaze on them, her dark, liquid stare making Sharon want more, want Fritz to slam into her so hard it made her eyes water.
"Can't . . . like this," he panted. "Let me."
She nodded, even though she wasn't sure what he meant. She'd let him do anything. Either of them.
He reached down and cupped around her ass, pulling her closer to him as he scooted toward the edge of the chair. Sharon understood what he wanted, pulled her legs up and around his waist, letting him push harder into her as he swept her up, still clinging to him, still riding his cock. Moaned and writhed on him as he carried her over to the couch, whimpering a little as he slipped out of her to arrange her like he wanted, head propped on the pillow against the armrest, legs spread wide.
"Fuck her, Fritzi," Brenda breathed, finally moving from the kitchen to perch on the armchair adjacent to the sofa, though it was clear she wasn't actually speaking to either of them. "Oh god."
Fritz didn't waste any time in pulling his pants and boxers down, kicking them off, tugging his polo shirt over his head. Sharon leaned back, pulling her own shirt off, skirt rucked around her waist, and gasped hotly as Fritz sank back into her, at the feeling of skin on skin as they pressed together, his hand gripping the thigh that rested against the back of the couch, using it as leverage to push into her as deeply as he could, Sharon's other leg tight around his hips, helping him drive into her.
"Harder, Sharon?" he grunted, pulling his hips back.
"Harder," she breathed, letting out a little cry as he thrust back into her, pistoning his hips forward.
"Fuck," she moaned. "Just like that, Fritz, oh god, just like that."
He didn't say anything else as he worked his hips, jerking Sharon's body down the cushions to give himself a better angle.
She loved it when they could be soft, tender, gentle with each other. But god, did she love it when he took what he wanted from her, knowing he'd make it good for her too.
She moaned, leaned her head up, licked at the sweat that was beginning to drip down his neck. Shivered as Brenda made a soft little sound low in her throat.
"Sharon," he breathed. "Fuck, Sharon, I want—"
"What do you want, Fritz?"
"I want to—uh, uh, I want—"
"Do you want to come, Fritz? Do you want to come inside me?"
"Yes," he growled, thrusting into her again, his hand slipping between them to rub at her clit, making her gasp and keen, making her rock her hips harder against his cock.
"Do you want to come inside me, Fritz," she asked again, her words light and fluttering, "or do you want to come on me?"
"Oh goodness," Brenda breathed again. "Oh my."
Fritz didn't reply, just shuddered and grunted again, his hips moving even faster, Sharon letting out little whimpers every time he thrust hard into her, every time his thumb circled her hard clit. She felt the little gathering within herself, a little surprised; usually it took more, took longer, but Brenda was staring at her hard, breath coming out in little puffs, hands gripping so tightly at the arms of her chair that her knuckles were white, lips red and glistening as she panted.
"Come for me, Fritz," she moaned. "I want to feel it, baby. I want to hear it. I want to taste it."
Fritz groaned, shuddered as he thrust into her hard, without rhythm. She felt his breathing get thin and scratchy, nipped at the tendon standing out against his throat, smirked and moaned as he jerked against her.
"I'm gonna come, Sharon," he grunted. "Gonna . . . uh . . . gonna come."
"Come for me, baby," she crooned, stroking her hands along his back. "I want you to feel good."
"Feels so good," he mumbled. "So good."
"So good," Brenda whispered, still clutching at the chair, eyes huge, shining, pupils blown so wide her irises looked nearly black.
"Come for me," Sharon moaned again, squeezing at him with her inner muscles as he jerked against her again. "I'm so close."
He whimpered hot against her neck, his thumb circling frantically.
"Yes," she gasped. "God, Fritz, yes," and her thighs were trembling, her mouth slack, her breath so shallow she thought she might faint. She shivered as he pulled out of her fully, his thumb still flicking at her clit, making her whine and writhe under him, felt herself starting to fade, to shimmer, to throb and swell as his hot come spurted onto her chest, shuddered hard as her orgasm overwhelmed her, turning at the last second to lock eyes with Brenda as she came.
"Fuck," Fritz groaned, careful not to press himself against the sticky puddles on Sharon's chest even though she could tell he wanted nothing more than to collapse, hot and sweaty, against her.
"Take care of this, Fritz," she murmured, still shivering pleasantly with faint aftershocks.
Brenda swallowed so loud she could hear it.
"I love you, Sharon," Fritz mumbled against her ear, soft and low and just for her. "Love you so much." He leaned down, his tongue hot and wet and trembling as he lapped at her skin, sucking his come off her.
"I love you too, Fritz," she murmured back, just for him. "Kiss me."
She thought for a second Brenda would fall off her chair as Fritz leaned up, slid his sticky tongue between her lips, let her roll his come around between their mouths.
After a few seconds she pushed the thick wetness back into Fritz's mouth, murmuring appreciatively as he swallowed, letting him finally sink down onto her body, stroking his back gently with her fingertips as he panted, hot and damp, against her skin.
There was silence in the condo for a few minutes, save for all three of their shallow breathing.
"That was," Brenda said finally, drifting off. "That was amazin'."
"Glad to be of service, Chief," Sharon smirked.
"No, Sharon," Brenda breathed. "That was . . . the two of you . . . that was the most incredible thing I've ever seen."
"So you liked it, then?"
"I'm so wet, Sharon," Brenda whimpered. "I got so wet for both of you."
"What do you think, Fritz?" Sharon murmured playfully. "Should we let her feel good too? She was so patient."
"Mmm," he rumbled, not lifting his head from her chest.
"Go ahead, sweetheart," Sharon breathed, still stroking at Fritz's back. "You come for me, too."
"Oh god, Sharon," Brenda gasped, not wasting any time in thrusting her own fingers up under her skirt, rocking back and forth against her own hand. "Sharon," she moaned, and Sharon could see the moment Brenda slipped her fingers into herself, the way her breath caught, the way she rocked her hips forward while her head flew back.
"That's it, baby," she murmured. "Just like that."
"Sharon," Brenda whimpered. "Oh, Fritzi." The sloppy wet sounds of her hand working against herself made Sharon smirk, shiver a little under Fritz.
"Come on, baby," she groaned. "Come for me, that's it, just like that."
"Oh Sharon," Brenda whined, fucking herself harder, biting her lip and groaning as she gasped and flexed backward, her body straining and trembling with sensation.
She let them all lay there for another moment, panting, soft little moans escaping from Brenda's mouth, from Fritz's, before patting Fritz softly on the back. "Get up, honey," she murmured. "Let's get ready for bed."
"But it's not even nine-thirty," Fritz mumbled, still dazed.
"Nobody said anything about sleep," Sharon pointed out, making him smile against her skin.
"You mind if I take a shower?" he asked, stretching as he pulled himself into a sitting position. "I thought I might go out and get us a little something for dessert."
"Oh Fritzi," Brenda sighed.
"Maybe a chocolate mousse pie?" he grinned, winking at Brenda.
"Not even I can manage again that quick," Brenda said, fluttering her eyelashes. "But that would be just lovely, honey, thank you."
"And you can spend a little time together, just the two of you," he added, his tone soft, loving as he stood up, stroked his wife's hair.
"Use my bathroom," Sharon said. "I shudder to think what's going on in Rusty's right now."
Fritz gave her a loose little salute, leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Got it," he said, kissing his wife too before ambling down the hallway.
Brenda didn't waste any time in moving from the armchair to the couch, cuddling next to Sharon. "I mean it," she breathed. "I wasn't quite sure how I'd feel watchin' you two, but I knew I wanted to, and it ended up bein' . . . bein' . . ." she sighed happily, nuzzling against Sharon's warm skin. "So good," she finished, shrugging at not being able to find the words.
"You want to come to the bedroom with me?" Sharon murmured drowsily, pressing her lips to Brenda's skin, not kissing, just leaving soft little presses along her arm, her neck. "We can hold each other for a while."
"I want that," Brenda said immediately. "Maybe that's all I ever wanted, Sharon, I don't even know any more."
"Well, honey," Sharon breathed. "We've got lots of time to find out now, don't we?"
"Lots of time, Brenda sighed as she pressed her lips to Sharon's throat, soft, sweet. "All the time in the world."
"That's right, Brenda Leigh," Sharon murmured, running her fingers through Brenda's hair. "All the time in the world.