Your reviews are truly awesome, my muse and I enjoy every single one. To answer some of the questions posed: (1) the double entendre about Dupont Circle was entirely untended although it did make me laugh when I found out and (2) don't worry there will be more details about Kate Mahoney down the road.

Disclaimer: Absolutely anything you recognize is most likely not mine; I just like playing with other people's toys.


Ch. 4 – Hands Off

Booth frowned at the forensic anthropologist on the other side of the desk who was giving him a Cheshire cat grin.

"What does 'not exactly' mean?"

Brennan opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by a loud rapping on the glass door of her office and both agents turned when they heard the door slide open.

"Dr. Brennan?" Zach called hesitantly, regarding the two frowning men in his boss' office with trepidation.

"Yes, Zach?"

"We've found a few things that you should come look at. I suppose Agent Booth and Agent Clark should join you," Zach answered.

"Thanks for extending the invitation, Zach," Clark shot back and turned back to face Brennan, finding himself the subject of a death glare.

"Please treat my assistant with respect in the future, Agent Clark," Brennan said coldly and then got up from behind her desk and walked out into the hall.

Booth joined her, practically glued to her side.

"Bones, you didn't answer my question," he prodded.

"Imagine that," she shot back sarcastically.

"C'mon, you're killing me here. What does 'not exactly' mean?"

"You can ease your mind, Booth. I was never a professional stripper. I just lived with one."

"You what?"

"My roommate in college had a problem making ends meet for a few years so she earned some good money working as a stripper."

"How good is good money?"

"She's a neurosurgeon now and has no student loans to repay if that helps answer your question."

"I definitely have the wrong career," Booth muttered, causing Brennan to grin.

Booth frowned again, "You said professional."

"Sorry?"

"You said you were never a professional stripper. Does that mean you were like an amateur, or what?"

"Not exactly," Bones replied coyly as she turned a corner and entered the larger lab area, making a beeline for the raised platform in the center.

"There's my favorite phrase again," Booth said with a sigh.

"Well, Nicole, my roommate, taught me many of her techniques. It's quite an effective method of seduction and foreplay," Brennan stated in manner-of-fact tone, completely oblivious to the sudden flush creeping across her partner's face.

Coughing, Booth cast about for a new topic of conversation that could put a stop to the torrent of inappropriate thoughts and images of his partner slowly removing her clothes.

"You're seduction techniques aside, Bones, why is it that you have a problem with my ordering a prostitute from your cell phone but you've lived with a prostitute?"

Brennan shook her head, swiped her ID card at the base of the stairs to the forensics platform and stood two steps above Booth, waiting for him to do the same. After he did so, she continued their conversation as she stood at the edge of the platform waiting for her team to coordinate their presentation.

"The stigma against nudity is only present in homo sapiens. We are educated to believe that walking around naked is not socially acceptable and find nudity, except in certain situations, highly shameful. A woman, or a man for that matter, removing their clothing for the entertainment of the opposite species, in most cases, while potentially degrading is in no way a reason for ostracizing an individual."

"Based on that lecture I'm surprised that you don't wander around naked more often," Booth said with a teasing grin.

"You have no idea what I do in the privacy of my own home," Brennan retorted with a mischievous smile that widened when Booth, Clark, Hodgins, and Zach all turned to stare at her in surprise.

"Seriously, Bones?" Booth queried, his mind going millions of places that it definitely should not have been.

"No, Booth, I'm not an exhibitionist. Although there were the three weeks I spent naked in the Amazon jungle," she said, almost as an afterthought. Booth turned a questioning gaze at Angela who was seated on a stool in the opposite corner. She shrugged to indicate she knew nothing about it but he noted out of the corner of his eye that Hodgins was wearing a wide grin.

"Why were you naked for three weeks?" Booth asked, unsure if he actually wanted an answer.

Brennan provided one anyway, "It was just after I'd finished my undergraduate work. A pharmaceutical company paid me to spend three weeks with an isolated tribe in the Amazon who, although they lived in an area that had a large population of malarial mosquitoes, were apparently immune to malaria. The company had sent down three medical researchers previous to my departure who had all contracted the parasite and were forced to leave. So, I spent three weeks with the tribe, eating what they did, living as they did, and wearing what they did. Which in that case was nothing. Actually that's not quite true. I was coated in mud from head to toe. It turned out the mud they bathed in had a unique repellent ability. The company is still analyzing the mud and its compounds in an effort to produce a repellent for general consumption."

Booth quirked an eyebrow, still stuck on the all-important fact, "You spent three weeks naked in the Amazon jungle wearing only mud? No grass skirt, no coconut bra?"

"I don't know what that means," Brennan replied with her patented confused look.

"Are there pictures from this study?" Booth asked.

Hodgins emitted an enthusiastic, "Oh yeah!"

Brennan frowned at her colleague and then turned to glare at Booth who was giving her an impertinent grin. Her next speech was averted when Clark suddenly chimed in.

"As intriguing as the idea of the photographic evidence documenting Dr. Brennan's being nude for three weeks, need I remind everyone that we are investigating a serial murder. And one of you squints said you had new, important evidence."

Zach cleared his throat, "That was me. We found something interesting in the effects the M.E.'s office sent over."

"What?" Clark demanded.

"This," Zach replied, holding up what was possibly a piece of paper coated in vulture feces with a pair of tweezers.

"A piece of paper covered in shit? That looks immensely helpful," Clark snarled.

"Shut up, Clark," Booth shot back, "They haven't done their magic just yet." He turned back to Zach who was now standing next to Hodgins who had a large basin of clear liquid lying before them. "Tell me you're going to work some magic," he pleaded.

"Magic is my middle name," Hodgins replied as he took the scrap of paper from Zach. Everyone crowded around him as he submerged it in the liquid and the feces began to wash away. Brennan pulled over a magnifying lamp as the white paper was slowly cleaned, revealing the small font, typical of a business card.

"Peek-A-Boo, In-Home Entertainment Services," she read aloud.


Booth surveyed the comfortable lounge area of the Peek-A-Boo office. It was definitely not what he would have expected for a company that hired out strippers. The floor was covered in a fawn-colored carpet with a dark green, overstuffed couch and two chairs situated in one corner next to a large window. Close to the entrance was a large, mahogany desk where a friendly, modestly dressed receptionist sat, her nails clacking in a rhythmic pattern on the keyboard in front of her. He eyed Brennan, seated beside him, who was casually flipping through an anthropology journal she had brought along in her bag. Clark was seated in a chair opposite them, cracking each of his finger joints individually in a manner clearly meant to irritate. Booth swallowed his urge to duct-tape oven mitts to Clark's hands and was prevented from a violent outburst of annoyance when the door to his left opened, revealing a tall, professionally dressed woman, her dark hair swept up in a sophisticated coif.

Turning to address them with a brilliant smile, she said in a mild Southern accent, "You must be the investigators from the FBI. I'm Madeleine Brightman. Why don't you come into my office?"

Booth, Brennan, and Clark filed into the adjacent room. After brief introductions, Clark initiated the interview.

"Ms. Brightman, unfortunately, we believe that one of your employees has fallen prey to a serial killer who preys on strippers," he stated, far blunter than Brennan ever could have been.

"Smooth," Booth muttered under his breath and then turning a polite smile on Brightman and began to speak, "I apologize for my associate. His manners are a little rusty. What he should have said was thank you for meeting with us today. I'd like to ask you a few questions about your business before we discuss our case."

Brennan noted Clark's sour face as Booth earned a smile from the attractive woman behind the desk and turned her attention back to the questions her partner was asking.

"You obviously have the proper business licenses. How long have you been providing," Booth coughed in mild embarrassment, "your in-home entertainment services?"

"Peek-A-Boo has been in operation for almost two years. We have a good reputation. At several different levels," Brightman replied with an ironic smile.

"And how many employees do you currently have working for you, Ms. Brightman?" Booth asked politely.

"It varies a bit, but typically I have about thirty women and fifteen men in my employ," the executive answered.

"Have any of your female employees gone off your radar…" Booth trailed off, shooting Brennan a questioning glance.

"In the past week," Bones supplied.

"I don't know," Brightman answered regretfully.

"How can you not know?" Clark demanded incredulously.

Brightman frowned at the harshness of the agent's question but gave her answer to the more sympathetic face of Brennan, "Most of the women that work for me aren't exactly thrilled about this job. It's not exactly something you list on your resume, you know?"

Brennan nodded her agreement as Brightman continued.

"Well, typically my employees will work for me up until they've earned the money they need. Then they leave, frequently without notice, so it's not unusual for someone to just disappear off my radar, as you put it. Sometimes they'll come back if money gets tight. I don't hold it against any of them, it's what I did for five years when I was going to business school."

Booth shot a glare at Clark before he could stick his foot even further into his mouth, and turned back to the honest and friendly businesswoman who apparently had no qualms about her operation or her past history. He opened his mouth to ask another question but was interrupted by a ringing cell phone. Brennan pulled the shrilling item from her bag and turning an apologetic look to Booth and Brightman, exited the room. Booth heard her voice faintly as she closed the door answering, "Brennan."

"Sorry," Booth apologized to Brightman, "her assistant gets anxious when she leaves the lab for huge chunks of time."

Brightman smiled.

"I hate to generalize," Booth began, "but I find that women taking their clothes off tends to cause men to want more than just watch them."

"We provide against that, Agent Booth," Brightman answered, "with our strict no touching policy. My employees are authorized to end any performance without penalties if they have been touched inappropriately or feel that the client or clients are threatening to them in any way. Not to mention almost all of my employees are well-trained in self-defense."

Booth exchanged a look with Clark. Bones had been right.

"I wanted to ask," he continued, "where do you typically send your employees to perform?"

"Oh, you know, birthday parties, bachelor parties, bachelorette parties, occasionally we get requests from foreign dignitaries. Lately though, it's mostly been frat houses. With the school year coming to an end the fraternities throw end-of-classes parties, end-of-exams parties, going away parties, and parties with no real purpose other than as an excuse to get a stripper."

"So you've been busy lately then?"

"I had twenty-five girls working last night alone," Brightman provided by way of an answer.

"Was one of the women working for you Carrie Matthews?" Brennan asked from where she had just re-entered the office, her voice causing Clark to jump while Booth merely arched an eyebrow in her direction, his highly trained senses having recognized her presence as soon as she had entered the room. After spending so much time with her, he was positive he could pick her out at three hundred feet based on her scent alone. Never mind the fact that he seemed to be magnetically drawn to her presence whenever she was near. Meanwhile, Brightman's eyes widened with sadness at the familiar name.

"Carrie? The body you found was Carrie?" she asked tremulously.

Booth watched with mild surprise as compassion crossed Brennan's face. Apparently, she'd discovered that utter detachment when working with the living was not effective as the display of some emotion.

"I'm afraid that it was Carrie Matthews' body that we found. My assistant just called to inform me that the dental records matched," Brennan said gently.

Brightman's body went slack with shock and then she attempted to gather her composure.

"I'm sorry. It's just so awful. Carrie was only twenty and she was so wonderful, so full of life. She'd only been working here a month. She wanted to earn some extra money so that she could fly to her brother's wedding in the Philippines three months from now. I can't believe she's gone," Brightman spilled out in a faint voice.

"Where was her last job?" Booth asked softly.

Brightman opened a drawer in her desk, pulling out a black folder. Flipping through it she arrived at the correct page and ran her finger down it, stabbing it with emphasis when she found the required information.

"The Delta Phi Epsilon house near the Georgetown campus," Brightman answered, looking weary.

"One more question and then we'll leave you in peace," Booth pushed on gently. "Do you have a photograph of Ms. Matthews?"

Brightman nodded, pulling out another folder from the same drawer. She removed a single photograph and handed it to Booth. Carrie smiled up at him widely, her green eyes sparkling, her straight, red hair cut short to frame her young face. He avoided the thought that she vaguely resembled a younger Brennan.

"Thank you," Booth said, getting up while Clark quickly charged out of the room. Booth lingered in the entranceway as Brennan stood up and picked up her bag. He heard her murmur softly to Madeleine Brightman and the woman behind the desk gave the forensic anthropologist an appreciative glance. With that, Brennan turned and walked out. Something in her eyes told Booth that questions would not be appreciated so he merely rested a hand on the small of her back, an unspoken sign of support. Surprisingly, she didn't shrug it away as he lead her out of the building.


You lucked out. No cliffhanger this time around. I know this chapter wasn't so thrilling but I needed to get this information out of the way so that I can get to more interesting stuff. I promise the next chapter will be more exciting. But what did you think of this chapter? Think my muse needs to brush up on her inspiration skills? Loved it? Hated it? Suggestions? Push that little button and let me know.